#he was going for sinister but his voice is pure seduction

[fluffylord]

He could read a grocery list and I’d still be lost in his voice.

[doliacuddles]

WHISPERS OF OBSCURITY.

𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❝𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 ��𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖾𝖻 𝗈𝖿 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌.❞

You weren't going through a good time. Life seemed to have become a dark labyrinth with no way out, where each step was more uncertain than the last. Days faded into a haze of worry and anxiety, and the feeling of being trapped in your own thoughts had become overwhelming.

It was in that state of vulnerability that you encountered him. Alastor, the charismatic radio broadcaster who enchanted crowds with his seductive voice and sharp wit. From the moment you locked eyes with him, something changed within you. There was a magnetism to his presence, a force that drew you towards him as if you were under a spell.

You were intrigued by the mysterious aura that surrounded Alastor, but you couldn't help but be captivated by his charm. He seemed so different from the others, so sure of himself in a world full of uncertainty. You knew nothing about his true personality, but you felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

And so, without realizing it, you found yourself increasingly immersed in his world of apparent glamour and glitter. Alastor enveloped you in an atmosphere of charm and promises, carefully hiding the dark secrets that lay beneath the surface.

With each passing day by his side, the outside world seemed to fade away, melting into the periphery of your consciousness. You were aware of the danger signals accumulating around you, but Alastor's comforting presence was like a balm to your wounded soul.

Soon, you realized that you had fallen deeply under his influence. No matter how many times your instincts warned you of danger, you couldn't resist him. You were trapped in his web, prey to a love as dark and twisted as Alastor himself.

As the days passed, you found yourself increasingly enveloped in Alastor's world. His words resonated in your mind like a reassuring mantra, dispelling any doubt or fear that might arise. You clung to him as if he were your only lifeline in the midst of a tumultuous ocean.

Although you didn't know much about his past or his motivations, you trusted that Alastor had good intentions towards you. After all, how could someone so charming and charismatic be anything other than a benevolent protector?

You convinced yourself that you were safe by his side, that he would take care of you and protect you from any danger that might lurk in the shadows. You ignored the warning voices within you, the faint alarms flickering in the back of your mind. Instead, you delved deeper into the illusion of security that Alastor offered you.

However, as time passed, you began to notice cracks in the perfect facade he presented to the world. Small details that didn't quite fit, fleeting moments of darkness peeking through the cracks of his charming smile.

Still, you clung to the hope that everything would be as he said. You immersed yourself in his world, willing to sacrifice everything for the love and security he offered you. You ignored the warnings of those who loved you, who saw through the mask that Alastor had woven around you.

As time passed, the shadows surrounding Alastor became increasingly evident. Small glimpses of his true nature peeked through the facade of charm and charisma he had meticulously constructed.

You found yourself witnessing scenes that sent shivers down your spine, gestures and words that revealed the truth behind the mask he had used to conceal his true self. But even in the face of evidence of his macabre nature, you continued to cling to the illusion he had created for you.

In his eyes, you saw a glimmer of pure evil, a sinister gleam that left you breathless. Yet still, you refused to see the truth, preferring to live in a fantasy world created by Alastor.

And then, one day, it all came to a head. You found yourself face to face with the darkness he had been hiding, unable to ignore the danger signals that surrounded you any longer. But even in that moment of desperation, a part of you still longed for the security that only Alastor seemed to offer.

It was then that you heard his words, whispered with a soft voice but laden with dark promises. "Darling, I will always protect you, no matter what," he said, his eyes shining with a mixture of twisted affection and pure malice.

And in that moment, you realized the truth you had been avoiding for so long. Alastor was not your savior, he was your jailer. He had ensnared you in his web of deceit and manipulation, turning you into his prey in a twisted game of power and control.

But even as you faced the darkness surrounding you, a small part of you still wished to believe the lies he had told you. Because the truth was too terrifying to contemplate. And so, in a final act of desperation, you clung to the illusion he had created for you, ignoring the reality that loomed over you like a threatening shadow.

And as the world continued to spin out of your reach, you plunged deeper and deeper into the darkness he offered you, convinced that in his arms, you would find the safety and protection you so desperately craved.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy what I do, please consider donating to my Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

CW: skin picking/dermatillomania.

[Please read while listening to this.]

Swan Lake wouldn't exist without its complexities. The intense pressure put on a prima ballerina to perform two entirely distinct roles with perfection. Odette, the graceful beauty, as pure as her white wing. Her softness, her vulnerability. The cursed, sorrow as her undercurrent. Odile, the Black Swan—everything Odette is not: sensual, cunning, sharp, and determined in her selfish way. The sinister doppelganger.

A tale of duality. It is this very aspect that makes it one of the most celebrated classics of all time.

The final chords of the coda sounded as you paused in your final pose, chest heaving in labored breaths. Beads of sweat dripped from your jawline to your neck before dyeing your gray leotard dark.

Henri's sharp clap echoes through the studio, snapping you to straighten your posture. You turn to him once more, hoping this time to see approval on his face. However, his forehead is still furrowed, lips are pressed thinly, remaining silent. His dissatisfaction is palpable as he gently shakes his head. You feel your chest tighten.

“Non, it is not Black Swan enough,” he said, waving his hands in the air to emphasize his point. “Where is the bite, the seduction? You dance her as you would Odette – too soft, too pure. We are talking about the evil twin here!”

Under his tone was impatience, a hint that his reins were starting to come loose. The pressure in the room had been building steadily over the past few weeks; everyone was nearing their breaking point. Only two weeks and a month until production week, and production week meant one week before the big day. The entire company was walking on eggshells. Your new problem of not being able to unlock the Black Swan had become a cherry bursting atop the weight of it all.

“Should we run through it again?” Jacob asked.

Henri’s scowl deepens. “Do you see the time? No use staying if you’ll only repeat the same error.”

Your stomach twists as Henri dismisses everyone with a sharp gesture. With heavy feet, you follow the others as they disperse to their belongings, preparing to leave the studio. But instead of closing your duffel bag, you follow your hesitation and move your feet in Henri's direction.

“Henri?” you interrupt his conversation with the coaches. He whirls to face you, and you continue: “Please, let me try again. I’ll try to do better—”

Henri stops you with a firm index finger. “No, I do not want to hear it again. There is nothing more to be done tonight, so just go.”

 The dismissal he gives you stings like a slap, and you bite your tongue to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Henri turns back to the conversation he abandoned, his back to you, indicating he doesn’t want to be interrupted again. You hang your head low, heading for your duffel bag and vacating the studio like the other dancers did.

Pushing the heavy door, the cold night wind penetrates your bones despite the coat. Just as you were about to follow your usual route to the subway, your gaze is drawn to the unusual sight of a silhouette in front. A lone figure stands by a dark car parked at the curb, back turned as he exhales smoke into the air. His tall, broad shoulders stir recognition in your head. Before you can think further, the name spills from your mouth slickly.

“Simon?”

At the sound, he turns, cigarette dangling between thick fingers. He locks his burning gaze on you. You watch as he takes another drag of the cigarette before tossing it to the ground and grinding it beneath his boot.

“Sent you a text, didn’t I?” His hoarse voice replies.

Hearing that, you quickly reach into your coat pocket, your fingers closing around the cool metal. You pull it out with trembling hands. The screen lights up, and sure enough, a notification appears: “Back in town.” One hour ago.

“God, I’m—I’m really sorry,” you wince. “I must’ve missed it during practice.”

Simon remained silent, his expression hidden behind his black medical mask, studying you intently for a moment. You said nothing, used to the prolonged stares by now. 

Nodding to his waiting car, he said gruffly, "C'mon then, I'll give you a lift home."

At his invitation, your chest warmed as a smile spread across your tired face. You nodded, stepping into his car as Simon held the door open for you. He waited patiently as you slipped into the passenger seat.

The scent of leather mixed with the strong scent of tobacco surrounds you, so quintessentially Simon. Your eyes take in the crumpled receipts of groceries discarded carelessly in the empty cupholder and the faint scratches on the dashboard. In his rear view mirror, a skull charm dangling, and for some reason, you smile at it. It’s so Simon, but you wouldn’t guess he cared about such small details.

Simon enters on the driver’s side, filling the seat completely. As the engine rumbles to life, you try to lean back in the seat, dissolving that tension that’s been building since the practice started.

The car pulls away from the curb, along with the crackle of the radio.

The rain falls heavily outside as predicted, providing a soothing backdrop to the sound of the television hosting a rugby match. Both your coats are hung up, their presence creating a cozy and domestic atmosphere within the room.

Simon sits in the living room, basking in the glow of the television that occupies his attention, while you are busy taking care of your little business. Swapping your dark-stained jeans for looser pants, you approach him reluctantly, suddenly self-conscious. Your monthly flow has arrived, on the very day you would've least wanted it to. No doubt it's the stress that has thrown off your usually predictable schedule.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur an apology, feeling like you’ve let him down. Now that sex is off the table, you expect him to stand up to take his leave—unless he’s the type to indulge in such things.

“’S alright,” he said, turning his gaze to you. He put his hands on your hips, pulling you gently towards him.

Your anxiety slowly dissolved as you surrendered to his touch, your arms loosely curling around his neck. The soft glow of the television cast a gentle light on his face, dancing in his warm brown irises like a miniature reflection. He gazed at you, a mixture of intense focus and a newfound tenderness evident in his expression. However, the sudden roar of the crowd quickly captured his attention again, and his gaze shifted back to the ongoing match. You followed his gestures as he restlessly tapped his fingers against the ashtray. Three old cigarettes, one more ready to be added to the collection.

You slip from his grasp, and he trails your movements curiously as you kneel before him on the floor. He raises a blond eyebrow.

“What’re you doing, love?”

You spread your knees slowly and settles between his thighs, meeting his stare shyly. “I want to help you relax.”

“You don't have to,” he rasp.

However, the half-heartedness of his refusal is quickly exposed when your fingers graze against his thigh, causing his body to tense involuntarily. Simon silently watched your every move, his breath hitched in his throat as you slowly unzipped his pants, uncovering the sight of his gray boxers. From beneath, a prominent bulge was visible, straining against the fabric, thick cock begging to be released. So you did.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts. The sound sends a jolt straight to your cunt.

You’d always known he was big—the unfailing fullness he’d always pushed into you whenever he was buried inside you was telling enough, but sitting here now, it seemed almost overwhelming. The heat radiating off him, his muscular thighs spreading wider, and the way his cock jutted out and up like it was seeking your attention. Pink, with the delicate blue of prominent veins running around it. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. He was… different from this perspective, and a thrill of excitement mixed with nervousness coursed through your stomach.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you couldn't miss how awkward it looked. But when you started to stroke it, Simon stiffened with a hiss.

Meeting your panicked gaze, he said, “Spit first, darling. Make it wet.”

Nodding in understanding, you feel your cheeks growing hotter at his instruction. Your saliva gathers beneath your tongue before you spit awkwardly on his pink tip. Simon watches as your pretty lips glisten in moisture—the sight makes his cock twitch impatiently. You run your fingers down his entire length, covering him in wetness. He follows your movements with heavy-lidded eyes; his body leans back relaxed—a sign that you’re doing a good job so far.

You look up, seeking another approval. “Like this?”

Simon acknowledged with a hum. “You can grip a bit harder, darling. And,”—he envelops your hand in his larger one to lead a demonstration—“move your fingers up and down.”

You wrap your fingers around him with slightly more pressure, following the motion he’s demonstrated. The feeling of his soft, silken skin stretched taut around your palm sends heat to your lower stomach. He lets out a groan when you sweep a thumb over his tip.

“That’s it, darling, you’re doing good.” His praise comes easily, encouraging you to do more.

Simon inhales sharply as your warm lips brush his sensitive head, pressing a small kiss and opening and closing experimentally around it. Fueled by your confidence, you lean in closer, then lick and dip the crown of his cock into your warm mouth. He groans, and you grow bolder—your tongue curling around his shape. His jittery hands aim for your hair to push himself further in, but he settles for your jaw instead, thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

Sliding your lips further down, you taste the bead of salt gathered heavy on his skin. The feeling of fullness in your mouth is foreign, yet in the unfamiliarity, you find the desire for more and more. You try to reach deeper, but when his tip hits the back of your throat, you start to cough, your eyes watering from his size triggering your gag reflex.

“Easy now.” He reminds you, gently gripping your chin.

You must be such a try-hard girl. His eyes soften, filling with a warm, chocolaty hue as he observes you, almost as if he feels a bit sorry for you. Your cheeks heat up, and you consider just stopping and leaving it to him to finish.

But you are desperate—guilty and desperate. Guilty for having him come over when you can't fully satisfy him. Desperate to give him something new, something that he has never experienced before, something that will set you apart from his past flings, lovers, and the exes he keeps close. Something that will make you irreplaceable, even if he tries to fill that role with ten future women. You are very guilty and desperate.

(Ways to make the unlovable, lovable.)

You relax your jaw and throat, taking him deeper but slower now. One hand strokes what your lips can’t accommodate, while the other grips his thigh for balance. He releases a low, guttural grunt as his hand grips your jaw more firmly, his fingers tracing a path up the back of your neck. Goosebumps spread across your body. Your cheeks hollowing as you suck on him, and the hand behind your neck is gripping tighter.

Simon’s chest rose and fell as gasps and moans escaped him. “That’s it, darling, fuck. You’ve got the right of it,” he mumbled, voice breathy and heavy.

You hum contentedly as his fingers card through your hair. Sliding your lips further, you try again to get more of him in, saliva leaking and dripping down your chin. As you take him deeper, your teeth graze along his sensitive flesh. He hisses, and you draw back immediately.

“Watch the teeth.” He says.

You nod, heart racing with embarrassment. “Right, sorry.”

Restarting, you take him into your mouth once more. Gently. You lean in even closer, your hair falling and veiling the sides of your face.

A gasp escaped you when you felt his fingers gather your strands and hold them away from your face. You looked up, meeting those dark brown eyes. A faint rosy color on his cheeks, and you were sure you weren’t much different. His lips fell open to release little pants and moans—evidence of the pleasure you were giving him, and fuck, if that didn’t send a tingling sensation to your aching core.

Lengthening your reach, you try again, carefully. He lets out a groan as his cock slides in further, feeling the head touch the tip of your throat. Saliva glistens on your chin as your eyes water.

“Fuck, love. Feels so good..”

You set a steady rhythm of slow, long bobs. Your tongue swirls around the shape of his tip, making Simon tighten his grip on your hair. He shuts his eyes, moans and grunts escaping his lips, blending with the sounds of the rugby match playing on television—fuck, you want to turn off the television, need to smash it with a baseball bat just to hear his beautiful voice, but your rational head says no.

Simon’s voice came out in a staccato as he got closer. He pushed your head up to accommodate his length, and your eyes widened. Tears streamed down your cheeks as your throat contracted. His calloused fingers clenched tightly around the back of your head, guiding you hastily to his pace. Your moans were muffled—his size filling the entire space in your mouth—and they ended up coming out as a faint hum.

The physical signs of the effects of your ministrations on him are becoming more pronounced. His breathing grew shallower, coming out in short pants. You feel the pressure building in his muscles, the trembling in his thighs. His cock begins to twitch inside your warm wetness.

“Darling…” His voice is hoarse, cracking with the last bit of control. Lifting his heavy lids, he meets your eyes, placing one hand on your cheek. “Love, fuck, I’m—I’m close.”

The series of pulses grows stronger, and before you can register, hot, thick ropes of seed sprayed into your mouth. You cough, your eyes burning. Though, his satisfied expression is clear even through the blurriness of your vision. The salty tang against your tongue is unfamiliar, but you willingly swallow it all, leaving no trace behind. You release him slowly, gazing up through wet lashes at his flushed face.

Simon leaned back on the couch, feeling the pleasure slowly drain from his system as the world came back into focus. He fixed his gaze on you, taking in the details of you: your clumped lashes, the slight mess of hair, and your dewy, swollen lips. Lowering his gaze, he noticed the mess staining his pants and chuckled.

“What a mess we’ve made, darling.” He joked as he fixed his pants.

A giggle escaped your sweet lips. Rising on shaky legs, you took your place on his thigh. He wrapped one strong arm around you to keep you balanced.

The rain has softened to a gentle patter on the window, the rugby match has ended, and the show has switched to a soap opera that you both end up ignoring. You watch him withdraw a cigarette pack from the side table, pulling and lighting one with practiced ease. The smoke curls up lazily, short-lived as it disappears again, leaving the scent of tobacco in the air.

Nestling closer, you stare into his heavy-lidded eyes. “Did I do alright?” you ask softly, almost in a whisper.

“More than alright. Think you’re a pro.” He says, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

When you shift in his lap, he hisses softly. “Steady now.”

You frown, but the confusion is quickly replaced with a teasing smile when you realize what he means. Giggling, you shift again just to tease him, eliciting another hiss through his teeth. You feel his grip tighten around your back.

A hummingbird trapped in a cage—your heart throbbing in long-lived excitement, butterflies fluttering restlessly in your stomach. The desire to touch more, to have more. Lifting your arms, you hesitate for a moment before wrapping them around his neck, his nape warm and firm beneath yours.

Simon took another long drag, holding the smoke in his mouth for a moment before releasing it. The cigarette dangling lazily between his digits, you plucked it gently from his hold.

Turning the slim white cylinder between your fingers, you examine it curiously. The ash at the tip ignites with a stroke of a small flame that spreads slowly. You glance at him, finding that he has already been staring at you questioningly.

You brought the cigarette to your own lips, clumsily holding it between your upper and lower lips, mimicking the way you had seen Simon do it. The weight and texture of the cigarette were foreign. You take your first drag, then cough at the unfamiliar burn. Hurriedly, Simon snatched it away from you, as if that single drag held more peril than years of his own addiction.

“These ain’t good for ya.” He scolded, face unimpressed.

“And it’s good for you?”

“S’not good for yer pretty little mouth.” He replied, taking another long pull. Exhaling slowly, he leaned his head back against the couch, spreading his thighs apart. “Ain’t nothing to reserve from this ugly mug.”

Your lips curved into a slight frown. "Don't say that."

“Just takin’ the piss, darling,” he says gently, then extinguishes his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on the table. You watch him struggle to find a spot for the newest addition among the sea of his past stubs. “S’full.”

You glance at the overflowing contents, looking back at him while ignoring the burning sensation that crept up your neck. In truth, it had been full for weeks—four cigarette butts including the remnants of his last visit, which you had left untouched.

“I’ll, um, throw it out later,” you manage to say, voice faltering slightly as nerves take hold of you.

Simon says nothing; he just wraps both strong arms around you, enveloping your smaller form completely against the warmth of his body. Outside, the rain has come to a complete stop, leaving dew and droplets of water that settle on the window like transparent beads. You look at him, and he looks at you. Those smooth, warm swirls of deep coffee brown hold their gaze on you, acting as gravity and pulling you closer to him.

Your lungs feel like they are tied in knots, afraid to release the oxygen within, as if the air itself must be held captive to avoid tipping Simon off to the tingling nerves coursing through your body in this proximity. Your fingers itch with the desperate urge to touch him, to trace the lines and contours of his face—the slope of his nose, the planes of his cheeks, the firmness of his jaw, the alluring curve of his lips.

The nervousness drips with sulfuric acid—burning, creating a pit in your stomach. It slips easier than your morning coffee, than your worn pointe shoes on your feet. You want to kiss him, and against logic, you hope he thinks the same.

In a moment of impulse, you bridged the gap between you and Simon, pressing your lips upon his. He froze for a split second before returning your kiss. You felt his fingers beneath your ribs, securing you firmly in his lap. He swiped his tongue over yours. Rolling. Hooking.

The taste of tobacco and the lingering essence of his release mix together in a heady blend. It is messy, raw, yet you savor it just as if it were the sweetest honey. He places a hand under your jaw, leading to a deeper kiss as he tilts his head to access more of your space. Each touch of his seems to weave itself into your very soul, the drums of your heart forming an orchestra that taunts your greed for more—a recompense for the gnawing hunger that only Simon can alleviate.

Before you grow old and bitter, you yearn to be cradled like this. To betray your loneliness with a kiss, to have your being deciphered through his touch like an unspoken language. Often times, you hold the things you love in your mouth; now you find his name and the gentle curl of his tongue pressed within the sanctuary of your lips.

As you broke the kiss to catch your breath, your legs found their way between his waist, pressing your hips against his once again-hardened bulge. Simon's lips released a faint moan, and his hands slipped down to squeeze your ass through the fabric of your sweatpants. Your head was thrown back as you sighed, baring the long column of your neck to his kisses.

Simon's name escaped in a breathy cry, it felt like prayer and sin woven into one—heresy spoken with the silver tongue of an open heart.

Simon's embrace of you strengthens, his arms encircling your form closely, drawing you against the solid mass of his chest. The soft lighting casts a warm, dreamlike veil over your senses. A major-key melody courses through your ears, resonating in your eardrums and creating a pleasant hum. You hear the echoes of your own distant dream—that notion you once dared not even think of: love. Mother had condemned it as mere folly, something repulsive; but, held in his arms, your soul was made so full.

And you surrendered completely.

Pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, you lift a trembling hand to cup his cheek. The scruff of his stubble prickles your palm. You can't help but be caught off-guard by the striking contrast between his pale blonde lashes and his warm brown irises despite the familiarity you've shared over time.

“Stay,” you mutter. He furrows his brows, and before he can make excuses, you add, “please?”

Simon shift in his seat, trying to relax his posture. “Sure, if that’s what ya want.”

At his answer, you held back your smile. “In my bed this time. Not the couch.”

“Why?”

When the question comes out, he tries to keep his tone gruff and flat as usual. But, you detect the slight tilt that lifts the words that follow. You chuckle, shifting on his thigh. He squeezes your hips in response and sighs.

“Because the couch is uncomfortable.” You spoke in a singsong.

He huffed out a laugh. “Last time, this couch seemed good enough, if I remember right.”

You avert your eyes, fighting off a smile while looking for another excuse to convince him. Tracing idle patterns on his chest, you begin, “Well, after your... disappearance, I think you deserve finer things.”

Despite aiming for lightness, an oppressive weight settles upon your chest, as if attached to an anchor, pulling it down. The fact that he was absent from your world means he was in his world—a world that is crueler, bloodier than sprains and torn ligaments.

Lifting your gaze again, you ask in a hushed tone, “Another deployment?”

The absentminded patterns you etched upon his shirt come to a halt as Simon captures your finger, holding it still for a moment. He falls silent, his tongue seemingly paralyzed, and his vocal cords reluctant to make a sound.

“Yeah,” he answers even quieter.

After he confirms your fear, you feel your smile slip away, though you try to hide it. His secret military life is one you’ll never fully grow accustomed to, no matter how many times he comes back safe and sound.

Retracting your finger, the absence of warmth from his bigger ones feels foreign. You cross your arms in a subtle, self-soothing gesture. Preparing your question, the words come out even more fragile than intended: “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Simon’s hands fall to his sides, as if not daring to touch you for reasons unknown. It feels hollow, but it’s probably better this way. Being under his touch before his answer feels too much like bribery—him telling you to stop worrying, to stop questioning.

“Not even bumps or bruises.” He replies curtly, but with the conviction in them that you’re sure it’s not a lie.

"Okay." You said. Getting up from his lap, you then add, “I'll grab us some drinks.”

You walk into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet before filling them with ice. This is enough for now, you tell yourself. Another breath. This is enough for now. Glancing back towards the living room where Simon has resumed watching television, its flickering glow showcasing a late-night program. You look down at the two glasses, their rims now covered with condensation.

This is enough for now.

It was 8 a.m. or something when you stirred in your sleep and opened your eyes to the recognizable confines of your bedroom. Everything is meticulously tidy and unchanged—nothing out of place, nothing different. Yet, a nagging voice silently whispers that there should be. The other side of your bed remains empty—an expected sight. As you turn over, however, your gaze fixates on the second pillow and you notice a subtle identification where it was never there—evidence of a head resting there.

As wakefulness sets in, memories swim like restless aquatic organisms into your brain. Your eyes widen as you realize what’s missing. Simon was here the whole night.

Throwing off the covers, your feet meet the cold hardwood as you pad through silent rooms looking for him. But, the dim living space is as empty as your bed. There’s no sign of him moving to the couch or his tall, imposing figure in the kitchen. The bathroom is devoid of the scent of your shampoo that he possibly used because he “didn’t have much choice” like last time.

Simon is gone again.

Sinking onto the couch, disappointment washes over you in waves so thick you can hardly breathe. It was expected—it was always expected because it was Simon—yet the blow never softened, and your insistent heart didn’t know when to stop waiting. You press your shaking fingers to your lips, clinging to the fading ghost of his kiss. Last night felt so far away, like it was some kind of illusion you let yourself believe in for a brief moment.

Your mind spins chaotically as you peel away the dry skin on your lips. Last night, I thought… you think. Faintly, the scent of iron is caught by your nose, and you taste blood as nails find softer blesh beneath.

A click startsles you, pulling you back to reality, and you whip around to see the door swinging open slowly. Your body froze as Simon entered, completely unaware of the state you were in. He drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as if he'd run for miles. Or maybe he did.

He turns to you with a simple stare. "Thought you'd still be asleep."

Before you can stop yourself, your muttering slips out: "You’re still here."

Simon’s eyebrows creased in confusion. “I am,” was all he said.

Now, you realize how your words might have landed in his ears. He might have interpreted your disbelief as you thinking it was presumptuous of him to spend the night until morning, when in reality, you were relieved he hadn’t really left you again. Perhaps last night wasn’t that far away; it was real.

Risking looking up, you stammer out: “It's good, uh… where have you been then?”

“Just a quick jog around the block,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

Remembering something, he reaches into his pocket, fishing out a battered envelope before handing it to you. “Found this outside your door, looks like it's been there a while.”

“Oh,” you murmur, taking it hesitantly from his outstretched hand.

Only a few people know your address, and most of them communicate with you through phone or email. You've become somewhat lax about checking your mail and the doorway. Every time you return home from work, your mind habitually takes the quickest route straight inside. Thus, unexpected deliveries have a high chance of going unnoticed.

Tearing it open with care, another envelope peeks out from inside—this one thicker, made of finger parchment decorated with swirling ink. You pull it free, curiosity overtaking confusion. Breaking the wax seal, the heavy cardstock inside is exposed, with the edges embossed with gold-leaf lettering. You search for the sender's information and settle on a familiar name.

Your eyes lift to meet Simon’s waiting gaze. “It’s... it’s from my cousin.” You pause for a moment before continuing, “She’s getting married.”

Simon stands there, looking perplexed as he studies the wedding invitation clutched in your hand. His eyes return to you, unsure of how he should respond. “Well, congratulations, I s’pose.” He says.

Yet his voice failed to reach you, as if spoken from a distance, muffled beneath the strange ringing that filled your head. It was no sweet wedding bells chiming, just blaring alarm bells warning of danger close at hand. A wedding. Your cousin is getting married—she has found her happy ending and wants you to come celebrate at this friends and family reunion.

And that means one thing: she will be there.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23

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[yesihaveaobsession]

Champagne My Dear?

Alastor x female reader

Summary: Alastor pays someone a little visit. You didn’t give him your soul yet, but he tries to win it over by using your crush on him against you. Would you do it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You stepped into your  living room, a strange and intoxicating scene greeted you. There, at the center of the room, stood Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon from the depths of Hell. He was bent gracefully at the waist, his tall, slender figure pouring rich champagne into delicate crystal flutes with an elegance that seemed almost out of place in the mundane surroundings.

But it wasn't just the champagne that caught your  attention. It was the atmosphere, the ambiance carefully crafted to ensnare the senses. Soft candlelight flickered, casting shadows that danced across the walls, and the air was heavy with the heady scent of roses and something more sinister, something distinctly Alastor.

You watched in a mix of fascination and apprehension, Alastor straightened up, a wicked glint in his eyes as he caught sight of you. His smile was sharp, predatory, yet strangely captivating, like a predator luring its prey with promises of something deliciously dangerous.

"Ah, my dear," Alastor purred, his voice smooth as silk and tinged with a hint of mischief. "I do hope you don't mind the intrusion. I simply couldn't resist the opportunity to pay you a visit." He knew you wouldn't fall for any of his tricks, but one revolving your crush on him. It would work, it had to.

“Would you like a drink my dear?”

“Oh um..” You were quite taken back from this whole interaction.

“Yes or no sweetheart?”

“Um.. sure,, but how did you-”

“Why magic my darling! Pure magic!”

Your heart raced as you  struggled to find your  voice. You had always harbored a secret crush on the demon before them, but to have him standing in your  living room, acknowledging your  existence with such unnerving charm, was almost too much to handle. You didn’t know if he knew about it or not, Oh he definitely did. You kept this crush of yours to yourself but apparently you didn’t hide it very well.

Before you could gather your wits, Alastor reached for the nearby record player of yours that lay on a table in the corner of the room, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a flick of his wrist, the haunting melody of "Tennessee Whiskey" (Or your favorite romantic/ love song)  filled the room, wrapping around you  like a seductive embrace. It was getting really warm. You had no idea how long you were gonna last for Alastor, out of the entire time you knew him he was a gentleman but nothing like this.

"It seems only fitting to set the mood, don't you think?" Alastor remarked, his gaze never leaving your  face. "After all, a little music, a little champagne... What could be more delightful?"

All though both of you knew this wasn’t going to last, your heart was going a mile a minute, you found it hard to breathe. If you had told anyone at the hotel about your crush on the deer demon, they would think you were out of your mind. He was like a drug, a cigarette no matter what something drugs you to him. He was your own personal addiction.

He then walked back over to you; the music still played. He picked up both of the champagne glasses and handed one to you. Your eyes locked and he sat on the couch next to you. As Alastor raised his glass in a silent toast, his crimson eyes glittering with promise, you couldn't help but feel a shiver of apprehension run down your spine. For you knew that in the presence of the Radio Demon, nothing was as it seemed, and to dance with him was to risk losing far more than just your soul.

“This is great Alastor, but you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.” You said sipping your champagne.

“Nonsense! This was no trouble at all!” His permanent smile turned into a wider grin. He knew you were a lightweight, all though you had things much stronger than champagne he just kept refilling your glass. You tried to tell him you had enough but he didn’t listen. Why would he? He’s one step closer to getting what he wants the most… You’re soul. It's almost like he spiked your drink or did something to it.

“If it’s not any trouble, which I don’t think it will be. I have to ask.” Alastor said, putting his glass down on the coffee table in front of them.

“Yes Al?” You replied. Kinda getting giddy about what the possible questions could be. He suddenly took your glass out of your hand and placed it next to his on the table, then he leant in close to you. 

"My dear," Alastor's voice was a low, velvety purr, sending shivers down your  spine. "I can sense your curiosity, your longing... Tell me, what is it that you desire most?"

 Your heart pounded in your  chest as you  struggled to find your  voice in the face of such overwhelming charisma. You  knew you should be wary, that making deals with demons was never wise, but there was something irresistible about Alastor's offer, something that called to the deepest recesses of your being. Also your crush on him made this harder than it should be.

"I... I don't know," You  stammered, your  breath catching in their throat. "What could I possibly offer you?" There it was. That’s what the radio demon wanted to hear all along.

Alastor chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your  spine. "Oh, my dear, you underestimate yourself. Your soul, my dear, is a precious commodity indeed. Imagine the possibilities, the power that could be yours if you were to strike a deal with me."

Were are you really going to give your soul away for a tiny crush? You knew if you did. Your life would either be all sunshine and rainbows, or it could be a living hell.

[freemilkshakesposts]

Beyond the Dark Clouds: The Ever-Present Sun

⚠️Warning ⚠️: Sexual content (18+) MDNI

Levi x Reader (Smut + Fluff + Angst)

Summary: When an expedition goes completely awry, Captain Levi is furious over your defiance of his orders. But in arguments, there's always a breaking point. So why did this breaking point feel so strangely comforting?

The candlelight flickered in the dimly lit room, casting erratic, almost sinister shadows on the cold stone walls. You perched on the edge of the bed, frustration simmering within, a visceral heat rising, as you awaited Levi's return. The mission had been a catastrouphic failure, and you knew he would have plenty to say.

The door creaked open, a jarring sound that sliced through the heavy silence, and there he stood. His face was as stern as granite, a mask of emotionless precision, devoid of anything recognisable as human.

"Care to explain what happened out there?" Levi's voice was a low, controlled murmur, but the barely contained fury beneath it was palpable, a searing intensity that threatened to consume everything in its path.

"I did what I thought was right," you snapped, standing up to face him. "We were outnumbered, and I made a call."

"A call that nearly got us all killed," he lashed, stepping closer. His eyes, dark and unyielding, bore into yours with an intensity that felt like a blade, slicing through flesh and bone, leaving nothing but raw nerves exposed.

"I saved us!" you argued, not backing down. "If we had stuck to the original plan, we wouldn't have made it out alive."

Levi's jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. "Your recklessness is going to get you killed one day."

"At least I take action," you retorted, a cold, disdainful edge sharpening your voice. "Unlike you, who hides behind his plans and strategies! "

Without warning, Levi lunged, closing the gap in an instant, slamming you against the wall with brutal force. The impact sent shockwaves through your bones, a jarring jolt of pure surprise. His grip tightened around your wrists, yanking them above your head with a savage strength that threatened to break them.

Then, silence descended, heavy and suffocating, blanketing the room with oppressive weight. The air thickened, each breath a laborious struggle as the walls seemed to narrow, closing in on you.

"You think I hide?" he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Every move I make, every step I take, is calculated, deliberate—each action executed to protect this squad."

"Well, maybe I don't need your protection," you retorted, your voice trembling yet straining to maintain a semblance of authority. Stay firm, stay firm, you reminded yourself. "Maybe I'm tired of always being treated like a liability."

Levi’s grip loosened on your wrists, his gaze boring into yours, dissecting your sudden admission. Tired of being a liability? Do you always feel this way when you're around him? A mere husk, devoid of purpose, stripped of dignity, left to decay in the shadow of his superiority? Had he gone too far?

"You're not a liability," he murmurs, his voice softening. He draws his face closer to yours, noses practically touching, his scent dominating the air. "But you must learn to trust me," he breathes, the words slipping out with an almost desperate intensity. "Please."

You stared at him, your anger dissolving, transforming into something darkly exhilarating—something forbidden, yet seductively right. The closeness, the firm grip of his hands on your wrists, the sense of desperation burning in his eyes, and his words, a soft, insidious melody, enveloped you like velvet.

It was all too much. He sought only your safety, his true intentions to protect. He had already suffered too greatly. You understood the tangled complexities of his heart. Without a moment's hesitation, you seized his lips with yours.

Levi's eyes snapped open, shattering the stoic facade of his Captain Levi persona like a porcelain mask cracking under pressure, briefly exposing a vulnerability you had never seen before he swiftly regained control with almost violent determination. His grip on your wrists loosened, his hands sliding down to your waist, drawing you closer, as if anchoring himself in the tangible reality of your presence.

The kiss was intense and primal, a fierce clash of tongues and teeth, leaving you both gasping for air, consumed by an intoxicating heat.

"Is this how you want to settle our arguments now?" Levi murmurs against your lips, a low, husky chuckle escaping him.

"Shut up," you hissed, pulling him back down for another kiss. This time, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. His hands gripped your ass tightly, the possessive strength palpable as he carried you to his bed. He threw both of you onto the mattress, his body landing squarely on top of yours.

His hands were merciless, unbuckling your gear with frantic precision, shoving aside the fabric as if it were merely an obstacle in his path. His touch was raw, desperate, driven by an almost primal need to claim you entirely.

You mirrored his desperation, stripping away his uniform with equal fervour until nothing remained between you but the friction of bare skin.

How fucking divine, you mused. Then he paused, his eyes dark and swimming with voracious lust. Yet within that abyss, a flicker of hesitation lingered, a subtle, almost imperceptible pause. His breath hitched, betraying a moment of weakness in the midst of this frenzied chaos.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," you breathed, fingers curling around his chin to draw him closer. "I need this. I need you."

With a guttural murmur, Levi seized your lips once more, his frame melding against yours, as if becoming one. One hand tenderly grazed your cheek, a stark contrast to the forcefulness of his other hand, gripping your breast.

What is this sensation? It's so warm... it's so irresistible, akin to the sun piercing through storm clouds. You yielded to the engulfing blaze, the world beyond your intertwined forms fading into insignificance. It became an orchestrated ballet of raw longing, an intoxicating waltz, a visceral eruption of passion and desire.

He pulled back from your lips, provoking a desperate whimper from deep within you. Adorable. With precise movements, he hardened his already firm length, positioning your legs over his shoulders with calculated ease, before plunging into your eager warmth, eliciting a guttural moan that reverberated within you. His hips moved with an exacting rhythm, creating an almost mechanical symphony of flesh against flesh, echoing off the pristine white walls of his room. It was intoxicating, a sensation so consuming you craved it more and more. Levi was your addiction.

"You're mine, you understand? I'm never letting you go." His voice was a low, intense growl, resonating against your ear. Each syllable punctuated by a forceful thrust, tearing a cry from your lips, painting the room in deep, vivid hues of crimson passion. The harmony of his words and movements was a twisted masterpiece you wouldn't dare to alter. You were his-completely and irrevocably.

L-Levi..." The words fell from your lips, fragmented and barely audible, as you were overwhelmed by the relentless precision of his thrusts. Each movement was a calculated assault, inundating your senses with a flood of pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. You were teetering on the brink.

"Cum with me, sweetheart. Cum with me," he commanded, his voice a perfect blend of hoarseness and allure. He pulled back slightly, his smirk widening as he savoured the sight of your glazed eyes, tears streaming down your face in a picturesque display of surrender.

That was the moment he snapped.

His movements grew erratic, fingers digging into your hips with a desperation that defied the controlled demeanour he'd exhibited earlier. Your body reacted instinctively, clenching around him, intensifying his primal urges. His head fell back, mouth open in raw, uninhibited moans, as your thighs quivered uncontrollably, the tension in your abdomen reaching its breaking point. In that moment, everything shattered. Your pleasure, his pleasure, fused into a singular, exquisite blend.

A combination, a reconciliation, a union.

You collapsed onto the pillow, heart pounding violently, each laboured breath echoing through the sterile expanse of the room. Your chest heaved beneath the oppressive weight of Levi's motionless form, his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. This is what you wanted, isn't it? You longed for his undivided attention, his words, the corruption of his role as Captain Levi. There was a twisted beauty in this, a dark perfection you yearned to preserve, unspoiled by reality. Yet, the specter of duty loomed, an unspoken force tugging at the fabric of your union: your role as his cadet, his as your captain. A wave of realisation swept over you. What had you done?

Levi made the first move with a slight wince, extracting himself from you and shifting to lie beside you. He took a moment to compose himself, his breathing gradually steadying, the rhythmic movement of his chest contrasting sharply with the erratic pounding of your heart.

An immediate chill settled over you as his absence created a void, a gaping abyss that seemed to drain warmth from every corner, intensifying the bite of the night air against your exposed skin. It made you acutely aware of the slickness between your legs, more sensitive to the cold than the rest of your body-a constant reminder etching the memory of what had transpired deep into your core.

"Levi, I'm sorry—"

Your breath hitched as Levi's finger traced intricate patterns on the bare skin of your arm. "You need to trust me," he murmured, his earlier fury now submerged beneath an unexpected, disarming tenderness that left you feeling disoriented. That warmth... it's back, slithering in like an uncontrolled substance, enveloping your senses.

You smirked inwardly, swiftly turning to face him. "I will," you whispered, your lips brushing against his chest. "But you need to trust me too."

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Deal."

*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙

You lay on your bed, utterly entranced by the white ceiling, the dark room hushed save for the gentle breathing of your comrades. Sleep beckoned, but your mind remained consumed by the events of last night.

"Shit, why did that happen..." you murmured bitterly, careful not to disturb anyone else in the room. But deep down, you couldn't deny that perhaps that argument had been necessary—a spark in the cold, vacuous expanse of life dominated by fear and grief.

Yet with Levi, that night, you couldn't deny the sensation of being cocooned in warmth, as if basking in the living embodiment of the sun's embrace. With him, the numbness began to thaw, the ice encasing your soul melting away. He became a fire, searing through every fiber of your being. And just maybe, Levi found that same warmth within you—a heat he'd been starved of for far too long.

[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary - Chapter 11

Rating: Mature Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader Summary: A mysterious device throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Pentagram City’s residents are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Explicit Language, Seduction Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

What a night.

The throbbing in your head was unyielding as you woke. Blinking your eyes in a daze, you rubbed the last remnants of sleep away with your fists before rolling onto your back with a groan.

Pained and disoriented, you eventually forced your eyes open, squinting into the red-tinted glare from the window. Sunlight had been a thing of the past. Instead, Hell was lit with fire and brimstone, which cast a permanent crimson glow throughout the Seven Rings.

Relieving a sigh, you murmured to yourself, "It was just a dream," before pressing your face into your pillow, noting how strangely familiar it smelled. It didn't smell like you. Where had you smelled that before? The scent was masculine, similar to woodlands mixed with rain and spices. 

You knew that smell. 

Flinging yourself upward, you choked on your breath in horror as you took in your surroundings, now wide awake. 

This wasn't your room.

Last night's events came crashing down on you like a ton of bricks, the effects similar to that of a cold shower, sobering you instantly.

Panic was coursing through your veins as your mind raced, trying to make sense of how you had gotten from the library to his bed, your memories seemingly lost. A sob wretched from your throat as you began to recall the assault, confusion and terror prevalent in the mix of emotions you were feeling.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart!" The Radio Demon emerged from the shadows in the far corner of the room, approaching you with an amused expression. "How are you feeling?" 

Instantaneous rage boiled to the surface, fracturing any hopes you had in appearing calm or indifferent to obtain the upper hand. "How the fuck do you think I'm feeling?!"

Alastor cocked a brow. "I would presume that you are experiencing a... oh, what's the word they use these days? 'Hangover'?"

If looks could kill, he would have been slain on the spot. Alastor appeared to be almost taken aback by your hostility as he examined your livid expression. Unshed tears threatened to spill over as your breath quickened. It was clear now what exactly you were feeling. Used, disgusted, and angry.

Had you not been so distracted by your own suffering, you might have noticed the apprehensive tilt of his head or the subtle concern in his gaze. Granted, it was difficult to truly determine anything that he was feeling behind that damned smile that never seemed to leave his face. It wasn't in his nature to be nurturing or caring in any way, so why would he even bother at this point? At least, that's what you told yourself.

The demon approached you, extending a helping hand. Wrenching yourself from beneath the blankets, you scrambled from the bed and took a defensive stance in front of him, cradling yourself with one arm while the other was outstretched, warding him off. "Don't. Touch. Me." It was a struggle to keep your tone steady as you swallowed back the tears in fear of appearing weak. Instead, you were forceful, your eyes blazing as you wished for nothing more than to watch him burn in the deepest, darkest pit of Hell. 

Confusion was etched in his features along with a hint of admiration. As he had openly admitted during your prior conversations, he enjoyed your brazen and stern disposition. You weren't a pushover by any means, and it was one of the reasons he took a liking to you.

"My apologies if I startled you. I was simply trying to aid you out of bed." His voice was infuriatingly calm. It enraged you that he could so easily appear unaffected. It was just another nail in his coffin lid that you intended to shut him in for the rest of eternity.

"After what you did to me?! You think that you can just assault me and then be all helpful ?! Like nothing happened?!" 

"...'Assault'?" he dragged the word out like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. "I'm afraid I'm not following." 

It was a knee-jerk reaction. Drawing your arm back, you swung it towards him forcefully, fully intent on punching him square in the jaw before he caught your first effortlessly in a gloved hand. "Hmm. It appears that we’re getting nowhere. You'll have to forgive me for what I'm about to do, my dear."

Before you could retaliate, he used your current position to drag you forward, catching you off-guard so that you unintentionally fell into him. "Now, let's see what's troubling you," he murmured, securing you tightly against him. He then placed his other hand on the top of your head while his eyes glowed with power as he sifted through your memories, just as he had done before when you had first arrived.

Unlike the last time, and much to your horror, you were fully conscious as he sought what he was after in your mind. Last night's occurrence was something that you wanted to repress and keep locked away deep in your subconscious, and yet there you were, watching it unfold before your eyes like it had happened all over again. 

For the first time since you had met him, his smile faltered. The edges of his ever-present grin turned down into a downright scowl. Gone was the amiable optimism and amused goading. The displeasure that crept into the Radio Demon's face was vivid and fierce. His hold around you tightened, numbing your skin under the pressure.

When he finally released you, he said nothing, his expression implacable as you stumbled back, hating that you had to relive last night's experience for his own amusement.

Except he looked far from amused. He looked downright murderous. The air around him crackled threateningly with static as his eyes flickered in and out of their horrifying dial-shaped irises, giving you goosebumps. 

Catching himself, as quick as his smile faded, it had returned to its natural upward state as he digested what he had just seen, contemplating his response.

Finally, he spoke, his eyes dark and piercing. "What happened to you," he spoke slowly and dangerously softly, the underlying rage palpable, "Will not go unpunished." 

Releasing a disbelieving huff, you barked back, "Are you delusional? What makes you think that-" 

"Stop. Talking." His voice had taken on a vicious edge as he took a step towards you, his hands folded tightly behind his back in restraint. "Listen to me carefully, precious. It wasn't real. It was a farce. It appears you've fallen victim to quite a potent Mickey Finn. Your ignorance as a living and breathing human has been taken advantage of, and the salacious activities that you believe occurred were no more than an outlandish hallucination."

Your eyes widened, searching his face for any indication of deceit. It couldn't have been your mind playing tricks on you... could it? It had felt so real...

Distracted by the revelation, you hadn't noticed that he had closed the gap between the two of you and was now within arms reach. "As I have mentioned countless times before, I have no intention of harming you. Take comfort in the fact that I do have morals, limited as they may be, and I would never force myself on anyone. Any part of myself," he emphasized, probably referring to the tentacles. Awkward. 

"You can't honestly expect me to believe that." Your voice came out barely above a whisper, the intensity of your stare expressing your feelings more than words ever could.

After a moment of reflection, he answered, "No, I suppose not." He looked almost disappointed behind his sinister smile. "Perhaps I can prove it to you."

Terror urged you to run, but curiosity kept you in place as he loomed above you, somehow rendering you paralyzed as he reached out to you yet again. This time, you allowed him to make contact as he trailed a finger along your shoulder, testing the waters. "Summon my shadow." 

Eyeing him skeptically, you scoffed, "And why would I do that?"

You wanted to defy him, purely out of spite, but the look on his face convinced you otherwise. Without further protest and finally putting your practice to use, you concentrated on making his staff appear. With a wave of your hand, it manifested in your arms. It was thrumming with magic, making your skin tingle beneath its touch. You didn't think you would ever get used to that.

"Okay?" you sneered, still not understanding what that would prove. "What does your shadow have to do with anything?"

He glared back at you, as if insulted by your implied cynicism. You stiffened, even though you knew his tactics were always meant to unsettle and you didn't want to give him the satisfaction, you couldn't help your small reaction.

"He sees what I see," he finally divulged. How vague.

Rather than push him for more answers, you knew that he would decline until his shadow was present. Closing your eyes, you beckoned for the creature to come forth and reveal itself before the both of you. 

The microphone perched at the top of the staff shook for a moment as a layer had peeled off from the stem, curling around your fingers before expanding and forming into an eerily-shaped mass of transparent sable, eagerly glancing back and forth between its masters.

The Radio Demon stepped forward, his formal posture never wavering as he nodded to the shadow, communicating with him telepathically. The creature's grin grew sickeningly more sinister as it registered the unspoken commands.

Without warning, it leapt at you, surrounding you in darkness. Before you could even scream, your vision blurred and you were suddenly transported elsewhere.

"Hey, Al. You gotta minute?"

That voice... It sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite place it yet. 

"Why, for you, Husker, I have an eternity." 

Wait a minute. This happened already. You remember this. 

As your vision cleared, you released a breath when you saw yourself standing with Charlie and Vaggie talking together in the hotel lobby. It was then you realized that you were viewing the memory from another perspective that wasn't your own. It was Alastor's.

His line of vision switched focus from you over to Husk who had beckoned him away from the scene. The two of them walked into an adjacent room, which appeared to be the kitchen.

Casually leaning up against the wall, Alastor gazed at Husk expectantly.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Husk's voice was harsh and accusatory. 

"Why, I haven't the faintest-"

"Cut the bullshit." 

Tension filled the air as Alastor's eyes narrowed at Husk's equally threatening glare.

Not waiting for a response, Husk continued, "You've never shown interest in anyone. Ever. Not unless they were a means to an end. So what's the deal, Al? Why are you infatuated with the girl? What are you planning? It can't be anything good." 

"I'm just being hospitable," the Radio Demon explained with thinly veiled facetiousness. "As you can well imagine, this has been quite the adjustment for our young friend. Come now, Husker. Is it a crime to provide comfort and aid?"

"You've never cared about anyone before, let alone their comfort levels." 

"That's not entirely true," Alastor countered, raising a finger to emphasize his point. "I often find delight in causing incredible discomfort ." 

The cat demon rolled his eyes before taking a deep and calming breath. "You know what I meant, you arrogant bastard. I'm not gonna stand here and argue semantics with you. Tell me the truth, or I'm outta here."

Alastor flexed his fingers in warning, which Husk had immediately noticed, but refused to back down. You noted that he was either incredibly brave, or had no regard for his own life as he challenged one of the most feared demons in Hell. 

"I have never lied to you, Husker." Just as the cat demon opened his mouth to argue, Alastor held up his hand to silence him. "I will admit that I am not always an open book, but I've never been untruthful. Not to you, old friend." His tone was wry but you weren't sure if he was joking, and by Husk's expression, neither could he.

Alastor outright laughed at his friend's scowl, angering the feline further. "I shit you not, Al. If I find out that you pulled me outta nowhere just to watch you sabotage the chance of returning a breather to where she belongs, I'll hurl you straight into the Seventh Ring myself."

The Radio Demon inclined his head, eyes crueler than you had ever seen them. "I hardly think that’s necessary," he replied coldly. "I'm surprised at you, losing your head over a girl. Here you scold me for supposedly showing uncharacteristic interest when you yourself are expressing abnormal compassion. I believe that's the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't you say?"

A growl erupted from the cat. "I haven't lost my head! I'm just tired of inadvertently helping you fuck people over! I'm old and was happily retired until you 'volunteered my services' here. I don't really care about what happens to the girl. I care about what happens to me when the other overlords, or worse, Lucifer finds out what you're up to. Because I know it's something. I've known you too long to buy into your bullshit."

Alastor was picking at his sleeve now, showing no interest whatsoever in their conversation any longer. "Curiosity killed the cat, Husker," he chided, a warning masked with malevolent pleasantness.

Husk's eyes flashed. "I'm already dead, you sanctimonious prick."

"Calm yourself and have a drink, my friend," Alastor insisted. With a twirl of his finger, a bottle of booze appeared on the counter next to the cat. Husk eyed it with interest before ignoring it, which must have taken a lot of willpower from what you knew about him. "You cannot fool me. I know that somewhere behind all of that fur and loathing is a heart, bitter as it may be." 

"I lost the ability to love years ago," he spat.

"And yet, here we are, having this discussion."

"Al, be straight with me," Husk practically pleaded. "Whatever insane plan you are concocting up in that certifiable brain of yours, don't get in over your head. I know you think you're indestructible, but you're not. Don't be an idiot." 

"I've indulged this conversation long enough. Trust me, my feline cohort. When the time is right, all will be revealed. Until then, be mindful of my privacy." His expression was downright feral, actually making you concerned for Husk's well-being.

Rather than be intimidated, Husk sighed deeply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat. "Fine, Al. Have it your way." 

Alastor was quiet for a moment, eyeing what was probably one of the very few friends that he had with consideration before he spoke again. "Must we argue? Come, you must show me how you managed to achieve a Full House with a joker in your hand. I'm sure it's a delightful tale."

Time somehow sped up during his retelling of his evening. You witnessed as he and Husk engaged in friendly banter while Husk showed off his poker and drinking skills. Though there was still a touch of hostility in the air, they were able to enjoy each other's company regardless. It was almost endearing to see Alastor enjoying himself with someone he considered a friend. 

The other thing you had noticed was that it had been hours that they spent together, which would have been while you were supposedly being assaulted in the library. 

After a few hands of poker, the two decided to pack it in for the night and were headed to their rooms. That's when they heard groaning coming from the library as they passed. 

"The fuck was that?" Husk asked aloud, his words slightly slurred from his excessive intake of alcohol. 

"Hmm..." Alastor hummed aloud. "Let's investigate, shall we?" 

Opening up the door to the library, they found you sprawled on the floor, unconscious and smelling very strongly of liquor. 

Husk chuckled at your inebriated state, having been in that situation many times himself. "Musta had a tough day. This wasn't your doing, was it?"

Alastor seemed offended by the accusation. "I assure you, I had no part in this." He tsked in disapproval, shaking his head in pity at you. "I suppose we should assist the poor thing." 

Husk narrowed his eyes at him. "Be careful, Al." His words had a double meaning. 

With a knowing smirk, the Radio Demon bent down and gathered your limp body in his arms as he lifted you with ease. "Sleep well, my friend," he called over his shoulder as he carried you effortlessly up the stairs, completely surpassing your room and continuing down the hall to what you had assumed was his own. 

He then used his powers to pull back the sheets on his bed before laying you down with uncharacteristic tenderness. You released a hiccup as you settled in, making him grin. 

Tucking you under the covers, he paused for a moment to stare at you as he stood tall next to the bed. His eyes took in every part of you before he hesitantly brushed back a piece of hair covering your face. He then grabbed a book from his nightstand and retreated to the far corner of the room, where he sat in a lounge chair, and silently began to read his book, seemingly perfectly content.

None of it made sense. If Alastor wasn't with you in the library, who were you with? Why would they trick you and make you think you were assaulted by Alastor? Also, why was Husk so worried about you? Better yet, why would Alastor just reveal to you his private conversation with Husk? Could you even trust that any of it was real? Wait... where did Alastor sleep last night? Did he even sleep? What was going on?!

The room suddenly went dark, pulling you out of the vision and throwing you back into the present. 

Alastor's shadow retreated from you, hovering beside you with a proud and equally wicked grin. You released a breath that you didn't realize you were holding as you forced yourself to meet Alastor's expectant gaze as he waited for validation. 

Underlying his suspicious demeanor and behind his obvious machinations was the undeniable fact that he was telling the truth. You couldn't explain how you knew. Something in the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know.

"T-that was... I mean, I can't... " The words were caught in your throat as you came to terms with what was right in front of you. "I could have sworn it was you..." You had to look away then, shame and embarrassment making your face flush.

"Hardly a complimentary comparison," he jeered spitefully. "So you assumed I was a sexual deviant intent on having my way with you after rendering you incapacitated?"

You looked up then and immediately wished you hadn't. Judging from the thinly-veiled darkness in his expression, he was genuinely insulted, and it made you sweat under his heated gaze.

"It was the work of a coward," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I hold myself in a higher regard. Should that be something I wanted to engage in, I would do so without the need to hinder your mind."

The surge of excitement that went through your body at his words made you sick. Even after what you had experienced, regardless of the fact that it wasn't even him that did it, something inside of you craved that part of him. You were demented. You were gross. You were-

"Don't think I haven't considered it." 

Your head shot up, your feelings of self-loathing interrupted by his admission. 

"C-considered what?" 

"Making you mine." 

Sucking in a breath, you tried to quickly collect yourself, desperately trying not to let him show the affects his words had on you. "You... you've already tried."

"Hmm, not quite," he cooed, taking a predatory step toward you. 

"Why would you even say that?" you stammered, trying to make sense of him. "I know that you don't have romantic partners. Intimacy doesn't interest you. We've already been through this." 

"Indeed. However, it interests you." 

"I mean... yeah. But first of all, you’re a cartoon. I don’t even understand the mechanics of our anatomy here. To be honest I’m not really sure if I want to go down that road. Even if we could… uh… do stuff, I can’t imagine that you would get any satisfaction out of it. No one wants to be used like that-"

"You presume to know what I want or what I will obtain from an amorous endeavor with you," he cut you off, still approaching you. Whether you were too stubborn or too terrified to move, your legs had refused to operate. It was probably the latter. "You see, I enjoy pleasure in many different forms. Engaging in physical intercourse for my own gratification? No. I do not fancy that in the slightest. Making you squirm and watching you beg, completely at my mercy when I make you come undone by my own hands? Undoubtedly."

The words didn't even get a chance to sink in before he descended upon you. Without warning or waiting for permission, his head dipped and he kissed you.

His lips were firm and soft against your own as he devoured you - as if he had something to prove. The kiss had been quite different from the awkward turned hungry one you'd had before. It took you by surprise in a way it shouldn't have. Then again, everything Alastor did took you by surprise, and you weren't sure if you were ever going to understand him or his actions. 

Acting on instinct, you clutched his jacket, drawing him closer to you as he responded in kind, wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you closer while the other cupped your cheek. You felt him smirk against your lips, like it was the kiss of a victor.

Reality slowly came crashing down, causing you to break the kiss, pulling back with a sigh. Alastor rested his forehead against your own for a brief moment, though you suspected it wasn't to catch his breath. Your body was still quivering, much to your chargin, so you stepped back to distance yourself. He released you without complaint, his crimson eyes locked onto your own as you collected yourself.

You had hoped that a change of subject would alleviate some of the intensity of the situation. "So, um... who would want to make me think it was you in the library last night? What was the point? Who has that kind of power?"

His posture stiffened so suddenly, it caught you off-guard, his face losing all traces of its earlier effervescence. The malignant veil was back in place and as terrifying as ever.

"I cannot yet say for certain," he began, the hostility in his voice evident as he smiled saccharinely, his eyes black voids in his pale face. "But I have an idea of where to start." -------------------------------------------

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88 @utterly-disappointing @opheliuva @trinswhimsys @skylarhedges @whogavebrynjolfpermissiontobehot @sailor-earth-1 @letmefallalone @libellule2001 @aceisbase

[serpentinesarang]

Playing Dress Up

pairing: changbin (seo changbin) x fem reader [because he’s my ult, OKAY?]

genre: idol!au, verrrrry little smut if you look under a microscope, the gentlest of fem-dom tones, suggestive, self-insert first-person POV (no y/n), reader has an overly sensitive spine that turns her on (integral to the plot), reader speaks konglish (key below)

word count: 1538

content warnings: one swear but that’s about it

summary: it’s post-covid era, and your newish boyfriend changbin, who doesn’t live with you yet, comes over under the guise of catching up after skz’s long-awaited world tour. he surprises you at first, but he doesn’t know you too have a surprise up your sleeve.

a/n: yet another super old piece i wrote in early 2018

korean key:

⦿ annyeong (안녕) = hi (in the context of the plot); pronounced “on-yawng”

⦿ jalsaenggin (잘생긴) = handsome; pronounced “jahl-seng-geen”

⦿ areumdaoon (아름다운) = beautiful; pronounced “ah-room-dah-oon”

⦿ ne (네) = most common form of yes; pronounced “neh”

⦿ gamsahamnida (감사합니다) = most common form of thank you; pronounced “kahm-sah-hahm-nee-dah”

⦿ cheonmaneyo (천만에요) = formal version of you’re welcome; pronounced “chun-mahn-eh-yo”

⦿ yangbok (양복) = suit; pronounced “yahng-bohk”

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Perched on the couch, I glanced at the clock again: 7:27 PM. I buried my face in my sweater-paws in a burst of adrenaline. 

This is it; this is it; this is IT, my inner voice screamed. He’s gonna be here any motherfluffing second now! In my building! In my apartment! With ME!

A sharp knock at the door snapped me out of my anxious thoughts. At long last, the moment I'd played out in my head so many different ways was finally transpiring before my wide eyes and thumping heart. After months of texting, selfie sharing, and videochatting, my boyfriend would finally be on the same side of the world as I.

I shot off the couch in pure, unfettered excitement but forced myself not to skip to the door, employing a calculated casualness as I took a deep breath before gripping the knob and twisting it open.

My poor little heart slammed harder against its cage as I gazed at Changbin, absolutely decked in an all-black suit and holding a bouquet of unusually dark red roses. Leave it to Binnie to go all out with his fondess for all things dark. 

I let out a much-restrained giggle as he grinned ear to ear, giving me an expression so much more happier than any of the ones I’d seen when I answered his video calls. His eyes crinkled as he took me in and let the attraction bloom across his glowing face.

He emitted a contented hmm before I finally broke the smile-off and said softly, “Annyeong, jalsaenggin.”

“A-annyeong, areumdaoon,” Changbin replied, adorably nervous.

I beckoned him inside the apartment, closed the door, and turned to face him. Eyeing the flowers in his hand, I said, “You've been planning to give me flowers even though I told you they’re not necessary, haven’t you?”

He glanced down at the floor with a sinister chuckle. “Ne.”

I shook my head with a smirk. “You didn't have to, but gamsahamnida.” I bowed my head at him, genuinely thankful for this sweet surprise.

“Cheonmaneyo,” he replied after bowing at me as well, still smiling with those tantalizing, full lips.

Segueing from the bouquet, I eyed his sleek outfit and touched a hand to his shoulder. “And you put on a suit for me?”

Changbin bit his lower lip—something I’d stupidly admitted turns me on when I was tipsy one night—and took a small step closer. “When we were in New York, when you and I talked about award shows, you said I look good in yangbok.”

This boy and his memory...

Dramatically planting my hands on my hips, I raised my voice a little: “Well I lied, Binnie. You look sexy in yangbok.”

His eyes had instinctually widened when I said “lied,” but then he scrunched his face into a disgustingly cute (≧◡≦) expression of childlike joy.

After we shared some shy chuckles, I sighed, still alive with energy. “Well,” I began, reaching for the bouquet, “let me put these in water.” I started toward the kitchen before he grabbed my wrist, gently yanking me back.

Unmoved, he stood in the entryway with raised arms and expectant eyes, and I realized he had been patiently waiting the whole time to embrace me.

I cackled in my mind for a second before saying, “Two minutes; I promise. Put your shoes there.” I pointed to a small, makeshift closet area wedged between my bedroom and bathroom, then I slipped into the kitchen, our eyes glued to each other the entire time.

Once I'd dropped the roses into a long-forgotten vase I dug out of a seldom opened cabinet, I pivoted on the smooth tile and boosted myself up onto the counter, near the sink, in one fluid motion. Changbin had been patiently leaning, hands in pockets, against a pillar directly across the kitchen with seductive, hooded eyes.

Time to make that a shit-eating grin.

I locked eyes with him and opened my bent legs outward, heels against the cabinets. I raised my arms and fought the urge to espouse a flirtatious expression while he wasted no time marching across the kitchen and wrapping his firm arms around me as I wrapped my legs around his torso. He nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck, and I rested my head atop his.

I tenderly stroked his abundant black hair with one hand and gripped a toned shoulder blade with the other. My heart had slowed down a bit, but it was still abnormal enough for him to feel my jugular throbbing against his cheek. He held me so tightly—not uncomfortably... but passionately. Making up for all the lost time and lost touch.

I felt Changbin starting to trail a finger up my spine, and just as he was hoping, I involuntarily lurched against him. So he’s gonna play that game with me... I thought. I exhaled loudly and whispered into his ear, “You can either save that for later or much sooner than later. Your choice.”

He laughed against my neck, finally pulling away just enough to see my face. He paused, taking his sweet time mining my bright eyes for clues. In this moment, I realized despite my nervous fervor that he’d done his whole skincare routine before coming here, and the scent of his favorite cologne was emanating from his visibly pulsing jugular.

“Sooner, please,” Changbin answered quietly, gazing at me with begging eyes.

“Sooner,” I nodded, leaning in to delicately kiss him, not pressing my lips too hard against his. I wanted to savor the feeling of his unfairly beautiful lips on mine. But, mashing his lips deeper, he slid his hands beneath my ass to whisk me off the counter, still tightly wrapped around his back like the precious cargo I am.

He carried me to my bedroom as I placed random kisses on his smooth skin. At the foot of the bed, he let my body, almost unwillingly, cascade to the floor, keeping his hands on my waist.

“‘Just hang out and talk,’ huh,” I remarked sarcastically with a chuckle. I weaved my arms underneath his and hugged him closer, holding my face just a few inches from his.

Biting his lip again, Changbin paused to compose the perfect reply as he tucked my hair behind an ear. “We didn’t mention what we would do while we talked...” he trailed off, his eyelids drooping suggestively. 

I smirked and maneuvered my hands to undo his jacket button. Pausing, I looked up at him and said in a solemn voice, “I think I'll undress you, unlike that one night I chickened out before you left.”

“I knew you had it in you,” he murmured in a playfully patronizing tone.

“Oh, it's gonna be in me,” I lobbied back, narrowing my eyes and smirking again. I snaked my hands up his chest and over his shoulders to slide off his jacket. “I'll hang it all up so nothing wrinkles.”

Changbin followed me to the closet as I hung the jacket.

“Tell me, baby: what are you thinking about?” I asked, working on his shirt buttons.

While he paused to think up a good answer, I unbelted him and tugged out the edges of his shirt.

“Just you,” he said, confidently.

We worked his pants off together, and I hung them too. “Great minds think alike.” 

Then I removed his dress shirt as he stood there, just smiling like an idiot in love. After what seemed like forever, he was down to his last undergarments, which I left for the fun to come.

“They’re gone,” I noted in a soft voice while caressing his stomach, devoid of the abs he’d talked about so often during their tour.

Changbin groaned quietly, putting on a comical frown. “Don’t talk about it...”

I laughed, bent down to plant a kiss on the curve of his supple stomach, and led him back to the foot of the bed. I sat him down and backed up a few steps, preparing for something I rarely had the courage to do for boyfriends. He watched me intently, and I realized that his lips had seldom turned downward since he'd arrived.

“So,” I began, hands in my sweatshirt pocket and my excitement painfully, embarrassingly obvious, “you must feel like the best dressed person here.”

He nodded innocently as I weaseled out of the baggy sweatshirt and tossed it aside to reveal a scarlet open-cup bra with strategically placed, intricately lacy flowers adorning the cups. I watched his eyebrows rise as he assessed me feverishly.

“Well, I dressed up too,” I continued in my best velvety tone of flirtation.

Slowly and purposefully, I shimmied out of my equally baggy sweats and kicked those aside too. Now my full outfit was on display, and I felt a chill come over me. This time, I revealed a scarlet, gartered thong that featured more strategically placed lace and several strappy pieces holding the lace bits together—a barely-there kind of piece that emphasized the curves of my figure.

Finishing off the look was a pair of scarlet thigh-high stockings with matching lace at the top... his only clue if Changbin had noticed my toes enrobed in sheer red hosiery.

I stood straighter, sucked in my stomach, shifted my weight on either foot to demonstrate a few cheesy poses before giving him the full turnaround. He was dumbstruck, speechless, and empty-eyed, his face alight with intrigue as I inched forward and straddled him. Cupping his jaws below the ears and leaning in, I whispered, "Now undress me and touch my back again."

[margridarnauds]

Hey there loving your blog! If I'm not imposing too much, can you talk about tohobeth? Any version and anything at all!

I ALWAYS have time to talk Tohobeth. Since I feel like it would be unfair to talk about productions I haven’t personally seen, I’m going to keep my discussion mainly to the 2015-2016 production, since I have the DVD on it. My views on it aren’t as solid as they are on, say, 1789 or MA, mainly because, somewhat embarrassingly, I only got my DVD AFTER I left the States, with my mom scanning the files in and sending them on to me via GDrives. And, with my Master’s program....well. I’ve not been able to watch it anywhere near to where I usually do before forming hard opinions. (Generally speaking, it takes about....six months or so for me to REALLY settle into my opinions, though, as you can see re: Lady Bess, there are a few times where my opinions are still variable after years.) 

It’s a fact well known at this point that I’m not the biggest Hanafusa Mari fan in the world, and it’s also a fact that she was recorded as Elisabeth twice, as opposed to Hana Ranno, who was double-cast in the role with her, getting a DVD of her own. Was I happy about this? No. Whenever I see Hana Ranno footage on Youtube, I feel this sort of ache in my chest because I REALLY would have loved to see her Toho Elisabeth. Maybe she wouldn’t have been a personal fave, maybe I would have actively hated her performance, but as it is, she’s acquired a semi-mythical significance to me now as The One That Fell Into Oblivion. 

Such a pity she couldn’t show up on the DVD. Such a pity. 

Part of why I’m so scathing, of course, is that I tend to REALLY like getting both casts so that I can see the differences between performers, and, with a musical called “Elisabeth” that obviously has Elisabeth as a protagonist...it can almost feel like getting half of what I normally get. It’s still good, I still do recommend the DVD, obviously, but also if I could go back in time to talk to some Toho execs and be like “Look, guys.....record both Sisis.” 

Now, I come not to bury Hanafusa Mari, but to praise Tohobeth, so I won’t be too far on the attack here especially since, to be perfectly fair, I feel like Elisabeth is the single best Toho performance of hers I’ve seen (between Mozart, Lady Bess, Marie Antoinette, and Elisabeth). She’s been playing the role since 1996, so she has very much fine-tuned her interpretation at this point, and there are MANY people who feel like she’s the definitive Japanese Elisabeth. This is the role, more than any other single role, that made her a legend in the industry. I personally feel like she REALLY starts hitting her stride about midway through the first act and, by the start of the second act, she’s at her peak performance. The role of Elisabeth is very challenging for any actress; most Elisabeths are drawn to one of the three stages of Elisabeth’s life that we see - Some of them are very good at playing 15 year old Elisabeth, some the Young Wife/Empress, and some the older, bitter Elisabeth, and, personally, I feel like Hanafusa is best in the latter role. As an actress, she very clearly feels a draw to sadness and mourning (in both Lady Bess and Marie Antoinette, she took the sadder interpretation of both characters she played, as opposed to her costars, who separated between the low points and the high points of their lives) and Older Elisabeth gives her the chance to stay in her comfort zone. Unfortunately, when it comes to Younger Elisabeth, especially in the very beginning, I find that she can age revert herself a little TOO much, so that she plays Elisabeth-at-15 as Elisabeth-at-8, which makes her interactions with both Der Tod and Franz Josef a little bit on the uncomfortable side. 

A personal highlight for Yoshio!Tod for me is his Die Schatten Länger in the first act, where he goes from sympathetic to seductive to sinister and then back to seductive. It’s an impressive performance of one of my favorite moments, if not my ULTIMATE favorite moment of the entire musical, and he does it so effortlessly. Watching him....he reminds me a little of Uwe Kröger? He isn’t quite as aloof and ageless as 1992!Der Tod, but looking at him in the role, I do get this vision of this otherworldly entity. He has this kind of floating, ethereal voice that we tend to associate with the classical Phantom of the Operas, with a very nice, smooth lower range in particular. I do also like his dynamic with Hanafusa Mari during “Wenn Ich Tanzen Will” -- She isn’t as reactive as some Elisabeths that I’ve seen, but I do still get the feeling of the two of them acting and reacting to one another, and this production is thankfully less....aggressive than certain productions. (2005, I’M LOOKING AT YOU.) I always prefer this scene as a verbal battle of wills, not necessarily Der Tod manhandling Elisabeth, and Toho delivers that. 

His performance almost makes me forgive him for 2006 Marie Antoinette. Almost. 

Shirota Yu on the other hand...he’s STILL otherworldly, but in a totally different way. He isn’t immature (I’ve SEEN immature Deaths, and he’s not), he isn’t the Bastard Boyfriend Der Tod, but there’s...something almost NAIVE about him at times? Not in a way that makes him less deadly, but in a way that makes him MORE so. He’s never interacted with a human before, not on this level, it’s very obvious he has no idea how humans really function or work, and Elisabeth confuses him just as much as she intrigues him. I also think that, at various times, you can REALLY see him having the time of his life in the role, playing a very, very expressive Tod in comparison to his more refined, aloof counterpart. Take their respective approaches to the death of little Sophie. 

“Oh, Elisabeth! This is so ~sad~ Here, let me console you! (This should work, right?)” 

“Hm, interesting, it seems like she’s upset. This isn’t what I anticipated.” 

And, at the beginning of Der Letze Tanz, which I’m including here purely because Shirotan is looking particularly memeable here. 

“Hello, it’s me, and yes, I’m majestic, I know, look at me.” 

“You hate death, but live as a mortal. Curious! I am very intelligent.” 

He’s a little rougher than Yoshio, a little less refined (I’ve heard Yoshio Inoue’s Der Tod compared, both positively and negatively, to a European aristocrat, which is actually a little ironic since, of the two of them, Yu Shirota Fernández is technically the more “European”, but. Well. In approach...) He has a wonderful voice (honestly, if you ever want to send your eardrums to heaven, listen to his cover of Die Schatten Werden Länger with Ramin Karimloo. Thank me later), though it’s different than Yoshio Inoue’s more classical voice. I think he has a little bit of a pop influence in there. Which might SEEM like the kiss of death for a performer, but in my opinion, he does work it. (Look, I can’t say anything negative about the guy: My mom has a massive crush on him, I own his album, and also I wasn’t able to finish the one video of him immediately following Miura Haruma’s death where he tried to sing through tears because it GOT me and now I can’t see Shirotan’s face without wanting to give him a massive hug. Which I can’t. Both for geographical reasons and also social distance.) It’s actually a little hard to compare the two Tods because, while they wear the same costumes, sing the same music, act against the same actress, they take such radically different approaches that it’s hard to say “Oh, yes, this one!” or “Oh, yes! That one!” Especially since I’m not sure that Shirota Yu’s voice would have worked with Yoshio Inoue’s approach or vice versa. I ended up loving both Der Tods for various reasons. I THINK that if my copies of Elisabeth were dangling off a cliff and my archnemesis told me to pick one, I would have to end up rescuing Yoshio Inoue’s version because I tend to prefer my sleek, elegant Tods (”Tode?”) but like. I’d be in mourning. Not the least because I’d have to tell my mom about the loss of Yu Shirota’s Tod. 

Speaking of crushes...look. Takanori Sato’s Franz. We know that I have a minor, unfortunate crush on his Louis XVI in Marie Antoinette, and as Franz...He did SUCH a good job with a character who is hard to make sympathetic in the limited time he has. Most audiences are rooting either for Elisabeth/Death or Elisabeth/Independence, and Franz quickly loses sympathy as the musical goes on, so an actor who can make him likeable is working against the tide there, but Takanori gives him SUCH a huge degree of warmth that I found myself rooting for Elisabeth/Franz to make things work out even though we know that it can’t.

 I repeat my assessment from my Marie Antoinette write-up: #FersenDerTodWho?

Mario Tashiro...we know that I do love this man’s work. In my opinion, he has one of the single best voices in the industry. But also, in my opinion....as an actor....he just.....doesn’t have it. He tends to act like the single most one-dimensional version of a role he can get away with. In the beginning, when Franz is young and in love with Sisi during “Nichts ist Schwer” there were a few moments where I felt like I might go into a sugar coma. 

They’re so cute together. Kill me now. 

And, unfortunately, Franz doesn’t have enough time to REALLY show off his range, with the exception of a few low notes and the act one finale (which to be fair, he is BRILLIANT in), to the point where I did, however slightly, end up preferring Takanori Sato both vocally and acting wise. I wouldn’t say that he’s wasted in the role, because he DOES do a good job with what he’s given, but I do think that it’s hard to appreciate just what he can do from this alone. 

It’s only fitting, after talking about Franz, that his mother should come right after him always lurking in the background, as always. And, overall....there isn’t THAT much difference, namely because Sophie, as a role, just doesn’t have that much variance in the role. And most of the fanbase is kind of. Actively rooting for her to die at any given point. There’s not that much that a given actress can really do with it. It’s nothing against them, it’s just a matter of how the role is written. I do find it interesting how both approached the death scene: Tatsuki Kohju’s Sophie is crying at the end, frightened of the afterlife as she clutches, frantically at the death angels before she slumps over, her cane falling out of her hand. As powerful as she was in life, she’s terrified of what comes beyond, as powerless as any other mortal. Suzuke Mayo tries to say something, mouthing some words, but then jerks sharply at a pain in her chest, trying to stay conscious for as long as she can but staggering backwards anyway, falling into the arms of the death angels with a look of pure relief on her face. You get the feeling that she’s been fighting for Austria for so long, made so many personal sacrifices of her own, that the chance for rest is coming as a relief to her. I THINK I prefer the latter interpretation, but honestly, both of them are solid in their own right, though I’m not sure that the role REALLY gets enough to justify a double-casting. (Also....I have to say that, while I wouldn’t necessarily get a musical just for Susuke Mayo, I’ve seen her in enough to have suitably warm feelings for her performances, so I’m already coming in with some amount of bias.) 

Lucheni...I don’t REALLY pay as much attention to, compared to, say, the main trio, but he is our narrator, and both Luchenis did take very different approaches to the character. Songha’s Lucheni was...well, if he isn’t in love with Der Tod himself, he’s obsessed with him. We see him reaching out to Der Tod both at the beginning (when he appears on stage for the first time) and at the end, when Der Tod drops the knife to him. There’s a fervor to him in those scenes in particular that I tend to associate with worshippers in a Baptist Revival. Yamazaki is a little bit more subdued, in the beginning I get the feeling that he’s almost under Der Tod’s trance himself, and, in general, I think he’s a little bit more cynical, though, by the ending, he’s dropped a lot of that pretense. He looks at the knife after he’s stabbed her (Songha’s Lucheni almost lets her walk into the knife, but Yamazaki’s STABS), before a smile comes to his face as he falls down while running, finally laughing. It’s like he’s been playing things more or less subdued this entire time and this is his real BREAK, now that he finally has the opportunity to kill. With Songha’s...

He’s actually shocked. I’m not generous enough to Lucheni, as a character, to say that he really feels bad about killing ELISABETH per se, but that...he’s borderline-fetishized Death for so long, waited so long, and then, when he finally has the chance...it doesn’t live up to his expectations. A woman walked into his knife. (She walked into his knife ten times.) There’s nothing dramatic or exciting about it. One small action, and it can’t be taken back, there’s no getting away from it. He actively stumbles around stage afterwards, confused as he tries to run away, like he doesn’t know what to do now. 

Of the two of them, Songha has a rougher, kind of growelly voice, to the point where I didn’t REALLY like his Lucheni all that much until I started to analyze his acting. Voice is a MASSIVE factor in whether I enjoy a performance, simply because...it’s my eardrums. I very much want to keep them intact. (For what it’s worth, Songha is NEVER rough to the degree it hurts my eardrums, but there have been a few...) It’s arguably fitting for someone who, as a character, is as rough as Lucheni, but it wasn’t to my personal taste, while Yamazaki...I mean, he’s playing Der Tod in the 20th anniversary. Whenever we get the 20th anniversary. He’s played some of the most celebrated roles in Japanese theatre. The man has RANGE and a fantastic control of the role. (Also...look. As a bisexual woman, I’m just going to say it: He’s more personally attractive to me, though the Toho Lucheni isn’t....really....designed to be attractive. If you go in expecting Takarazuka Lucheni or Serkan Kaya’s extremely pretty Lucheni...well. He isn’t. Either version of him. He looks like someone just pulled him out of a garbage can.) I did notice that both of them have quite a bit of growl in their voice during “Milch”, though, so some of this could be directorial intervention. While BOTH of them absolutely nail the high note in the Prologue, in my opinion, Yamazaki’s riffs are an absolute HIGH point for me (...okay, yeah. Literally and figuratively. I didn’t mean to make a pun. But here we are.) I do think, at the end of the day, I prefer his voice, though I think that both of them did interesting things with the role, taking what is essentially opposite approaches. I don’t think I have a really clear favorite there. One of these days, I’ll have to check out Songha’s other work to see what his voice is like in its “Natural State” so to speak since if, for example, I’d only ever heard Oka Kojiro’s voice in 1789, I’d have just assumed he only knew how to bark out his roles. 

One role that wasn’t double-cast but that I WOULD like to draw attention to anyway is Furukawa Yuta as Rudolf. My friend @chibimyumi‘s already written some wonderful meta on Furudolf that I highly recommend, and there’s very little that I can really add except to say that he’s probably my personal take on the role, mainly because, while he IS sympathetic, that isn’t the entirety of his character. He isn’t just a pawn in Der Tod’s game,though Der Tod is unquestionably manipulating him, but a character in his own right. I’ve noticed in the Elisabeth fandom...it can be quite common to go “POOR WOOBIE RUDOLF” and....yes, he did have a very tragic life, but there was more to his life than just the tragedy. He had a life and a personality outside of that (that and....the general erasure of the 17 year old girl who died by his side, but it’s hard to be too harsh on the fandom for that when the musical itself kind of skips over that.) 

Now, on those notes, there’s one thing that...I don’t want to talk about, but I feel like it’s an elephant in the room if I don’t. 

Namely, Hass. 

I don’t like talking about this scene, mainly because it’s deeply uncomfortable subject matter, and it’s deeply controversial subject matter that, as a goyische white person, I really am out of my depth in talking about. There’s a reason why “Hass” was censored from the Zuka, and I know that some fans have gotten hooked on the Zuka, only to go to the German or the Toho, and have subsequently found themselves shocked and/or traumatized. I understand that it’s meant to be deeply uncomfortable, and the Toho DOES show Rudolf actively getting them to stop, which further solidifies the idea in Die Schatten Werden Länger of Rudolf WANTING to stop things from getting out of control, but he can’t. The Toho is also a little bit more brutal than I’m used to, showing an explicit attack on a Jewish man. It’s the kind of thing that, especially in the German and Austrian productions, was meant to give the audience a wake-up call and remind them of their own past, as a country, but can be traumatizing for any Jewish fans or fans of color who might be watching. Especially given that Lucheni, who we tend to associate as a jerk, yes, but as our more-or-less likeable narrator, is actively taking part. I know what they were going for, but also there’s a reason why I never stream this production without a warning ahead of time, and I also tend to end up skipping this scene. 

The staging is very nice, probably one of the more intricate Toho stagings I’ve seen, with a lot of props and backgrounds moving around, often mid-song, as well as projections in scenes such as Die Ersten Vier Jahre in order to show the passage of time.

 The costuming is, predictably for Toho, fantastic, lavish without being quite as sparkly as their Takarazuka counterparts, having quite a few nice velvet numbers in there. The costuming of Elisabeth is so iconic it seems pointless to discuss outfits like the Sternenkleid or the coronation outfit, but I think this production does well on even some of the non-iconic ensembles. See: 

And...you know, I said no iconic numbers, because they tend to be all people talk about, but like. One Sternenkleid pic. Because it’s what she deserves. 

Is it Too Soon to say that I’d stab her for that wardrobe alone? Because damn. And that’s not even touching the jewellery. 

I want. 

Overall, I believe this is probably my favorite production of Elisabeth. Toho really knocked it out of the park, and it’s a good compromise between the Takarazuka and the original Austrian in many, many ways (I do love them, for example, keeping Der Tod’s presence in Alle Fragen Sing Gestellt from the Takarazuka) while also making a production that’s distinct and stands on its own two feet. I really would like to have another proshot of the 2019-2020 cast, whenever the Japanese theatre community is in a more stable place, because I really, really would like to see Manaki Reika, Yamazaki, and Furukawa Yuta’s takes on their new roles, because I feel like they could be really, really solid and I’ve heard fantastic things about at least Chapi and Furukawa Yuta (nothing against Yamazaki, just that I don’t know anything about his take on Der Tod.) 

[carnalpleasure]

this one turned out way longer than i expected and it’s too long to post under a cut??? idk how tumblr works ok. but you finally get a lil taste of warlock!richard🔥😏 or would it be hawthorne!richard ?

anyways i think this ones pretty cute and im even more excited to go write the next part <3 thank u to everyone thats read this far 🥺 ILY

Light My Fire

The Warlock Council had been eagerly anticipating the arrival of their newest student. They’d planned to meet Richard bright and early that morning, but Michael insisted on letting him sleep in and rest up. So Ariel reluctantly postponed the meeting until all the classes were done for the day. And yet, they still were late to arrive. The master warlocks were quickly losing patience as they sat in their usual conference hall, once again debating on whether or not Richard even belonged there.

“Baldwin, you’re being naive,” John Henry said, his frustration evident in his voice. “The boy doesn’t possess any powers, he is being possessed,” he urged.

“How can you be so sure, John Henry?” Ariel interjected. “You said the same thing about Michael and look at what an asset he’s turned out to be.”

“I’m still not convinced on that one yet either,” John Henry muttered.

They had been debating this ever since Ariel received the tape from a frightened nurse at the clinic. She didn’t want anything to do with Richard anymore after seeing that footage, but she didn’t have the heart to turn him into the authorities since they couldn’t prove he was responsible either. Ariel and Baldwin only wanted to believe that the young boy was a powerful, promising warlock. While John Henry and Behold were less optimistic, believing it to be just a typical case of demonic possession.

Just as John Henry was taking out his pocket watch again to check the time, the tall arched door creaked open, echoing through the halls of the hallow room. Michael walked in first while Richard stood hesitantly in the doorway, his messy bangs partially hiding his face. Michael turned back to him, nodding for him to follow. “Come on,” he said softly, coaxing him in. The quiet brunette rushed to his side, like a shy little kid clinging to his mom’s leg in the grocery store.

“Richard! We’re so glad you made it! How was the trip?” Ariel perked up as soon as he saw the boys, quickly forgetting all about the argument. He walked right up to Richard, putting his hands on the boys shoulders and giving him the biggest, fakest smile the pissed off boy had ever seen. He quickly took a step back, pulling away from Ariel’s grip and giving him a look of pure hate and disgust. He hated this guy already. He was so arrogant, the way he talked, treating him like an old friend when he’d never met this man. But putting his hands on him? That irritated him more than anything.

Ariel was either oblivious to his anger, or he was ignoring it. But he moved right on without skipping a beat. “Well then, gentlemen. Shall we proceed with the first test?” He looked back at the other three warlocks, as if waiting for applause. His voice was rich with excitement as he returned to his seat at the table. He seemed overeager and it made Richard uncomfortable. He scooted closer to Michael, shooting him a nervous look. The anxiety was nearly radiating off him at this point.

Michael put his hands behind his back, like how he always stood when he was observing something of importance. But he had a different reason for it this time. He snapped his fingers to discreetly get Richard’s attention, signaling him to take his hand. The brunette reached for his hand right away and the boys locked fingers behind Michael’s back without the other warlocks ever noticing. It helped a bit, Richard’s heart rate started to slow and some of the tension melted away.

The four master warlocks were sat at the table like a panel of judges. They all remained straight faced and silent as Ariel took over, proceeding with the test. “Now Richard, since it is your first time using magic, we’ll start small. Today’s test will be a simple one. Any level one warlock can eventually master this.” As if on cue, Baldwin produced a single candle and set it on the center of the table. Michael let go of his hand then. He moved his hand to the small of Richard’s back and lightly nudged him forward.

“Pyrokinesis,” Ariel announced, “The ability to-“

“I know what it means,” Richard interrupted.

Ariel paused, his enthusiastic smile turning cold. This boy was testing his patience, although he’d never show it. Ariel was a master of masking his emotions. “Such a smart boy,” he said dryly. “Well then, let’s see if you can figure out how it’s done. Light the candle.”

Richard froze. That’s it? No directions? No magic spell? How the hell do you start a fire with nothing? He wanted to find out how just so he could burn this ridiculous place down.

Michael’s hand returned to Richard’s lower back, the small touch assuring him he was still right by his side. “Concentrate,” Michael’s tone was soft and soothing. “Think of the wick as someone that’s hurting you, think about how you would focus your rage towards that person, then direct it there.” Richard tried to listen to his words but he couldn’t focus on the candle, or on Michael. All he could feel was the pressure building. These four powerful men had all eyes on him, waiting for him to practically perform a miracle. His heart started to pound again, his hands shaking, feeling like his skin was crawling.

Without thinking, he turned around and ran for the door, stumbling into the hallway and trying to remember which direction they came from. Michael immediately went after him, “Hey, wait. Come here,” he pleaded, reaching out to grab him gently by the arm. Richard tried to shake him off and pull away but Michael grabbed him with both hands and pulled him into his chest where the brunette collapsed in his arms instantly. He buried his face in Michael’s chest trying to hide his shame. His burning red cheeks and watery eyes gave it away. Richard never cried unless it was tears of rage.

“I’m not like you, I can’t..” he grumbled into Michael’s chest. The blonde had his arms wrapped around him, running a hand through his soft brown hair soothing him almost instantly. “You’re just nervous,” Michael replied, his tone soft and forgiving. “Let me help you,” he whispered pleading, his lips brushing against Richard’s ear lightly as he spoke. Richard’s whole body started trembling at the sensation. Feeling the boy’s sudden reaction gave Michael an idea.

He ran his hand carefully up Richard’s chest to his neck, slowly letting his fingers wrap around the boy’s throat. Richard’s eyes went wide, completely taken by surprise as he felt Michael’s grip tighten, forcing him to look up at the blonde. The look on Michael’s face was seductive yet sinister as he leaned in, painfully slow, pressing their lips together and kissing Richard for the first time. Ever. Richard had never been kissed before by anyone and the brand new sensation sent sparks flying. Literally.

Every candle in the entire corridor burst into flames and the whole room was suddenly illuminated in a bright orange glow. The chandeliers started to swing violently and the hallway was filled with warmth. They pulled away from the kiss just in time to see that last of the light show. The candles flickered wildly and the last sounds of crackling fire echoed through the halls.

“Did you do that?” Richard asked, looking up at Michael in shock. He started to get angry, feeling like he’d just fallen for a trick. But the blonde shook his head, beaming with pride as he looked back at the boy. “No, baby. That was all you.”

A look of confusion crossed the brunettes face, his brows furrowing together as he took a moment to process what just happened. After a minute his eyes shot up to meet Michael’s gaze again. “How did you know it would work?” he asked.

Michael smiled, “Magic is a feeling. I just needed to make you feel something.”

Richard thought about that answer for a moment before reaching up to steal another kiss, surprising Michael yet again. Then he grabbed the boy by the hand and dragged him back into the meeting room where the Wizard Council had begun packing up their things for the day.

“You came back,” John Henry said dryly. “We were beginning to think you checked back into the clinic.” Michael wanted to burn the guy’s face off for even saying such a thing. He shot John Henry a look that was just short of demonic, it was a warning more than an intimidation.

“I can do it now,” Richard professed. His body was still buzzing from the kiss and he felt more sure of himself than ever. The only thing that could possibly feel as good as this, would be wiping the smug looks of their faces now.

“You’re late, we don’t have time-“ Baldwin started to shut him down but Ariel waved a hand, signaling him to be silent. “Let’s be fair now, Baldwin. Give the boy another shot. Why not.” Ariel sounded sarcastic and uninterested, as if he didn’t believe Richard.

“Really, Ariel? What’s the point?” John Henry asked, taking out the pack of cigarettes he always carried in his breast pocket. He put one to his lips, but before he could even reach for his lighter, the tip of the cigarette sparked, lighting up and glowing cherry red. It took John Henry by surprise and he inhaled too quickly, sucking in a harsh cloud of smoke and coughing.

The other warlocks all turned immediately to look at Richard, looks of shock and disbelief on their faces. It wasn’t as big as the display Michael had just witnessed in the hall, that’s for sure. But it definitely got the point across and got their attention. Ariel’s face lit up and a smile formed from ear to ear.

“That was excellent, Richard! You passed your first test!” he said with a laugh, his ego skyrocketing as his suspicions about the boy were affirmed. It was a small display of power, yes. But it was a sure indicator that the power was there. And that was all Ariel needed to know to officially induct him into the prestigious school.

“It’s settled then! Tomorrow morning. You’ll start attending classes with Michael right away. The two of you have a lot of studying to do.” He put a hand on each of the boy’s shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze and looking at both of them like a proud dad would stare into the eyes of his sons. It made Richard feel unsettled, and Michael feel adored.

He dismissed the meeting then, sending the boys back to their room to get plenty of rest for tomorrow’s next test. As soon as they were out in the hall, Michael snaked his arms around Richard’s waist, pulling the brunette in close for another kiss. Richard put his hands on the blonde’s face, running them up into his hair and grabbing a fistful of his blonde curls roughly. “Come on,” he mumbled between kisses, “let’s go make some magic.”

💕taglist: @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger @angelicmichael @langdons-butterfly @thewarriorprincessxo

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

disney’s ‘the hunchback of notre dame’, early 2000s kid nostalgia, and other midnight musings

“What the fuck, Stina? I thought this was a blog for book reviews!” you say.

“Books, amongst other things. Hence the -ish suffix,” I say. “And all my mediocre ‘reviews’ are hit-or-miss in terms of engagement, so I’m pretty much free to post whatever the fuck I want.”

I toss my head. My hair whacks me in the face.

The first time I watched Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame was been circa 2006, in the ‘movie room’ of my preschool, huddled around a CRT TV with the rest of my five-year-old classmates. Not much about the film particularly stood out to me at the age.

Fast-forward fifteen years later; I’m cooped up in quarantine, hundreds of thousands of miles away from that first viewing. I’m living my best life, rejoicing in my introverted tendencies and having a laugh at the expense of all the suffering extroverts. I haven’t moved from my bed all day, except for the bare necessities, and I’m bingeing YouTube videos. All is well.

I discovered Lindsay Ellis’s channel quite recently- embarrassingly enough, through her videos on Omegaverse and the whole Addison Cain fiasco. I stumbled down the rabbit-hole of her channel, and here I am, a few dozen videos later, and I find her one on this film.

Which, of course, led me to want to re-watch the film, with the eyes and mind (supposedly) of an adult. And it went far beyond and above my expectations.

The film is dark, much darker than the average Disney film of today- not just thematically, but the graphics too. Except for the first parts with the Festival of Fools and the last scene, the rest seems to have a dark filter put over it all. Obviously, given its themes (I’m pulling these out of my arse; I’m a STEM major and I have zero to no knowledge about film) of freedom and equality, acceptance of those different from us, corruption and lust- all that good shit, in other words- you can’t exactly have sunshine and rainbows. But it’s such a stark contrast from what I’ve been accustomed to from Disney; Frozen has Hans about to decapitate Elsa, but the background remains bright and light; Simba sobbing next to Mufasa’s body in The Lion King is heart-wrenching, but a few scenes later, we have an anthropomorphic meerkat-boar duo singing about eating bugs and farting and all that classy stuff, so it’s not as traumatizing.

The themes are a lot more on-the-nose than a lot of other kids’ movies (forgive me if I err, I am aged and forgetful)- cue la Esmeralda saying, “What do they have against people who are different, anyway?”- you get what’s essentially the same ‘accept others regardless of their differences’, ‘prejudice is bad’ morals from, say, Zootopia, but having given the main characters fursuits makes it less obvious than in this movie.

(Or maybe I’m just a dumbass. I have no elaborate notes for this; I’m high on sugar and deprived of sleep so I might be spewing bullshit.)

Admittedly, the resolution is a bit… unrealistic. The citizens of Paris = sheep, essentially; they go from throwing fruit in Quasimodo’s face because the guards started it, to helping defeat them. Maybe there’s something about mob mentality in there, but I find it hard to believe that people who showed up to watch Esmeralda burn to death were suddenly totally cool with not getting what they didn’t pay for. But then again, this is a Disney movie, and you can’t make kids too cynical too early on. Let them have their innocence and ‘people will be with the heroes in times of peril because humanity is inherently good!’ before they realize that humanity kinda fuckin’ sucks.

The characters are some of the most human from those I’ve seen in Disney (other honorable mentions: the main characters of The Emperor’s New Groove, Moana, Tangled, Anna from Frozen). Quasimodo’s the main character (lol DUH, will I ever say anything not obvious?), and he’s so lovable, but not without flaws- he’s biased against gypsies in the beginning because Frollo’s the literal scum of the earth. To borrow from the K-pop fans’ dictionary: UwU he’s so pure!

Esmeralda sparks a bit of controversy because she’s another POC leading lady from a Disney film of the 90’s (a list including Jasmine, and, sigh- Pocahontas) who’s markedly more sexualized than the white Disney princesses. It’s not something I particularly noticed nor cared about until I saw it being brought up- I mean, the woman shows a bit of cleavage and then dances for a couple of seconds- but. I’m just putting that out there.

She’s an empowering heroine without having to belt in in your face (not me making a dig at Naomi Scott’s Jasmine from the Aladdin live action film), and I also love how her role in taking down the Big Bad doesn’t have to do with her ‘power of seduction’ (the scene in the animated Aladdin film where Jasmine kissed Jafar truly traumatized me as a kid).

Phoebus is… well, he exists. Kind of a Regulus Black archetype, but not exactly. The guy on the bad side who turns good and all is forgiven. Well, at least it’s not the ‘her love made him a better man’ trope. And he is a good guy. Even if he did spend a considerable amount of his adult years on the side of the bad guys.

Systemic oppression? Nah, it’s one or two corrupt baddies. But again, it’s a Disney film, we need everything to work out for the good guys in the end.

Let’s get the gargoyles out of the way. To reference Lindsay Ellis’s video (she’s a lot smarter than I am and breaks this down better than I ever could): yes, the comedy’s oft ill-timed and inappropriate… for an adult audience. And the primary demographic of Disney films, especially princess ones (obviously Esmeralda isn’t a princess, nor does she marry into royalty, nor is she included in the group of princesses in the dumpster fire that is Ralph Breaks the Internet, but I had a book imaginatively titled ‘Disney Princess Stories’ as a kid that included Esmeralda’s story alongside Belle’s and Ariel’s, so I’m calling her a princess), are kids. And kids love fart jokes.

Additionally, I have a theory-that-is-not-really-a-theory-but-a-pretty-obvious-thing-that-happens that the gargoyles are figments of Quasimodo’s imagination, and the, at times crass and ridiculous things they say are just the voices in Quasimodo’s head (THIS IS OBVIOUS, STINA, YOU HAVEN’T STUMBLED ACROSS A STARTLING NEW REVELATION); maybe what he imagines normal townspeople to act like.

And then we have Judge Judy Chrissy Teigen Frollo. This dude is the embodiment of pure evil. He’s bigoted and rapey and abusive and one of Disney’s most successful villains- even better than Mother Gothel, who previously held the crown. It’s rare that a villain genuinely terrifies me, especially a cartoon one. Frollo, unlike your typical fairytale antagonist who wants power/fame/fortune/to overthrow Olympus, is far more sinister; driven from deep-rooted hatred instead of plain greed. He’s so much closer to people in positions of power and authority even in the modern world, and that element of reality makes him so much better as an antagonist instead of a literal sheep who hates carnivores (seriously, Disney, enough with the twist villains- they’re not working out).

Also, Hellfire slaps. In fact, the entire soundtrack does.

Speaking about Hellfire, I love the contrast between that and Heaven’s Light; how Esmeralda is viewed by Frollo (an object to possess, “Destroy Esmeralda, and let her taste the fires of hell; or else, let her be mine and mine alone”) as opposed to Quasimodo (someone with free will, “I dare to dream that she might even care for me”).

Another argument brought up, and admittedly one I had as a child was, ‘but if the whole point of the movie is acceptance and love as opposed to lust, why didn’t Quasimodo get the girl?’ Which, years later, I realize is an extremely misogynistic way to look at it. As Princess Jasmine said four years before The Hunchback was released, she is not a prize to be won. Quasimodo is Frollo’s antithesis; he lets Esmeralda choose, and she chose Phoebus. And Quasimodo accepted that, because he is good and kind and sweet and loving. Severus Snape, take note.

On a sidenote, I’m always kind of caught out of left field when the plot in films moves really fast- I’m really not a movie-watching type; I prefer to read, and books usually indicate how much time passes from one main plot point to another, and there are little slice-of-life, filler parts that tie in to character development and moving the plot forward, but at a snail’s pace. So, whenever I’m watching a movie and it’s one important event after another, I usually haven’t had enough of a refractory period to process it.

Let’s pretend that I segued smoothly into the next part of this (already tedious and long drawn out) review.

The Hunchback is the darkest film I’ve ever seen come out from Disney. Re-watching it as an adult made me pause every so often and wonder why the hell I wasn’t traumatized by it as a kid. I mean, the whole movie kicks off with Frollo about to throw an infant down a well. And then there’s that horrifying shot of the stone renditions of the Israelite kings on the church walls. Frollo falls to his death into fire. I mean, good riddance, but still. I guess it’s because the kids’ shows of today are awfully censored and polished so kids don’t have nightmares forevermore.

Update: tried to watch The Hunchback of Notre Dame 2. Exited just as fast as I clicked on it. Disney sequels really ain’t shit (yes, I’m looking at you, Frozen 2).

[sloppy-butcher]

Angel of Music

The Wraith (Philip Ojomo) x Survivor!Reader 

ok so

I’m probably very late to this, like 3 years late, but whatever just hear me out

My smooth brain has been going crazy lately for Phantom of the Opera and i just realized how similar Wraith’s “Angel of Music” cosmetic is to the drama (i mean, i known it is inspired by it but like). 

so now with this glorious revelation, me and the monkeys in my head have come up with the brilliant idea to write a Phantom of the Opera inspired Wraith fic. gods speed you funky lil dudes. 

note;; this is going to be very OOC for him. I’m am going to model wraith to be more like the phantom he is dressed as, thus expect a more devilish, seductive creature rather than the tree-man we already know. also, he can talk now. maybe sing

literally no one asked for this

word count: 4110

TW: Death and blood. Stalking and obsession. Musicals 

This place is an undeniable and indisputable nightmare. An eternal night that twists and corrupts all with shadows and despair. From the repetitive game of cat and mouse that almost always ended in death to the ever-present feeling of eternal damnation, there is absolutely nothing inherently good about the Fog. There wasn’t even light. As if stuck in the haze of an ecstasy-trip, time bleeds into itself seeming to stretch on forever yet also never move an inch. A true paradox.

And to make matters somehow even worse, you had started to hear voices in your head.

It first spoke to you on one of your regular trips into the woods. Scavenging for tools and items that could be used in trials, you hummed to yourself. Oblivious to the world around you, lost to the music playing in your head. It was easier to forget the horrors of the night and give in to the melody of some old song than to ponder on dangers yet to come. You found personal peace in singing, drowning out all your earthly worries by the power of your own imagination. The fog swirled and swelled with the rise and fall of your song and out in the darkness the voice made its presence known. ‘Sing louder.’ You obliged willingly.

Initially, you had chalked it up to your heightened sense of purpose and inner monologue being superimposed so as to form its own being. You would command yourself in third person, detaching and driving your body as your thoughts spoke. Intuition personified. This theory made sense; endless panic often causes those to develop the most peculiar of coping mechanisms. In passing conversations with the other trapped souls you realized that they too had their quirks; one had a rubber band that he snapped on his wrist whenever scared, another rubbed dirty into her palms to stop them from sweating and so on. Unfortunately, you had developed the most bizarre habit out of everyone else. You only started to question the voice’s true intention when its orders became more sinister.

‘Leave him.’ It spoke over your shoulder referring to your teammate dying on hook, an open exit gate before you. ‘Run away.’ It commanded to your half-way through healing another when you spotted the killer fast approaching. All these new and selfish instructions, although ensuring your survival, left you feeling hollow inside. You escaped but at what cost? The lives of your friends. If it really was your true self talking to you then, by default, did that mean you were as evil as the voice was? No! You plead. You were a good person. By God you were human, and the weight of all the death and suffering inflicted by your obedience to the voice began to crush your conscience. You couldn’t even look the others in the eyes anymore.

You couldn’t just ignore the voice either. When it spoke there seemed to be an almost physical force behind it, driving it and giving it momentum. Sometimes it even felt as if someone was standing right behind you reaching out and instructing you with their hand as they whispered in your ear. There was also the fact that you drew strange comfort from the voice. In this desert place, so drained of softness and angry with hate, you depended on what little gentleness the voice offered you.  

It even occurred to you that maybe, the voice wasn’t even yours - as in it belonged to someone else entirely. An unknown watcher, a ghost or phantom, who somehow had a deep connection to you, a one-way mode of communication. A large part of you wanted desperately to believe that who were just overreacting and that it was all just in your head. Regardless, you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

For what felt like days now the voice had been uncharacteristically silent. You noticed it in your first ever trial with the killer that could go invisible with the toll of his bell. There was no guidance, no consoling vector to take your hand and help you through your problems. You had been left alone like a new-born chick, blindly searching for the love and warmth of a guardian. Feeling completely lost, the panic that sat on your chest was overwhelming in that trial. But oddly enough, no matter what you did wrong, how many times you blew up a generator or accidentally revealed your position, the killer never disturbed you. You didn’t even see him until the end where, standing in the exit gate looking in on the realm, you spotted the figure. Bright eyes gleamed back, a bloody weapon in his hands. He allowed you a moment longer to gawk at him before ringing his bell and disappearing into the night.

Even after escaping the voice didn’t return. Your ears yearned for the sound of it, hungry for its filling noise. You sat alone at the campfire, eyes staring unblinking into the mesmerizing flames. It was so lonely, the panic and unrest mixing into a dangerous concoction in your head. There was nothing good anymore. Why do you keep on trying? Perhaps it would be better if you just gave in already. You almost jumped out of your skin when, as if manifested by your desperate cry, the voice called.

‘Come.’ It sounded from the treeline, darkness bending and beckoning you into it. It didn’t feel real. Perhaps you were imagining it. ‘Come,’ It said again sensing your hesitation. You looked around at the other survivors none of which appeared to notice the disturbance. You faced the forest again, it opened to you like the mouth of a great fish. Your feet itched to run to it. There was a powerful pull and before long you followed it.

The woods were freezing, broken branches grabbing out as you passed them. Through all these adversaries, pushing past doubts and warranted skepticism, you kept your eyes focused ahead. Even with all the warning flags the voice had given you, the pure desperation you had to find anything even remotely kind lit the fire of will under your feet. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? You were dead either way. The trees swayed and whined as a tired wind blew through their crumbling leaves, oddly not even making a noise. As the voice continued to call, luring you away from the safety of other people and fire, you spotted something ahead of you. There just through the fog, like a lighthouse over a raging sea, was a light. It bobbed and sway and wondered away from you through the trees. It was hypnotizing to watch the light flicker deeper into the trees, your feet not needing motivation to follow.

The light and voice mingled in your head, overwhelming every sense until it felt like you were walking through a dream. Your pace was sluggish and sloppy, you couldn’t feel the ground anymore. Just as it seemed you’d never catch up to the light, it suddenly stopped, blinked a few times then popped out of existence. You went to its last location, looking around for any possible signs of anything to help you but instead found yourself completely surrounded by an all impressive mist. It danced through the trees creating unbreakable walls of wood and water. It felt wrong to be here, your head spin around for an exit which came to you in the form of an out-of-place stone archway.

The bright yellow of the stone contrasted brilliantly against the somber atmosphere it lived in. Your mind wasn’t your own as you unknowingly went to it. Beyond the mouth of madness lay a beast in wait, purring as he felt your impending arrival. Eagerness overtook him and slowly the wooden door creaked open to welcome you inside. The tunnel that lay behind was one lit by old candles tinting the world with a much-appreciated golden light. It stretched on for miles, leading down into the earth where, at the bottom drifting up to you like a breeze in a cave, the voice beckoned.

‘Come.’ You stepped inside. ‘Come to me.’ If, by some strange miracle, you could have stopped yourself for a brief moment from descending the tunnel, you might have noticed the voice’s odd word choice. You might have even noticed the person on the other end licking his lips and smiling. Walking as if through honey, you unhurriedly made your way to the yearning voice. Before long the warm light that had bathed you drew back its loving embrace and faded back to absolute darkness.

At the edge of the last candles reach was a room - so large and empty of light that it appeared to have no roof, no walls, no end. You couldn’t help but feel like you had walked into the lair, the most secret and quiet place, of a monster. You couldn't shake the feeling that you had passed the point of no return. The artificial night swallowed you whole; your eyes strained in the pitch black, your ears burning from the total silence save for your own beating heart. The shadows inspected you, looking you up and down while you were none the wiser. His eyes also ate you up, so pleased to have you alone that he let the moment slip into an uncomfortable length.

You wanted to speak, make your claim against whatever had brought you here. You could sense something out there just outside of your already limited view. But the silence held you tight in its suffocating grasp. You dared not even breath. You had to wait for him to make the first move.

“Bravo.” The voice called from somewhere behind you, startling you to the point of drawing a gasp. “Bravo! Bravissimo!” Someone started to clap. You could hear him stepping around you, his voice echoing endlessly around the room, impossibly loud and booming. Although there was something deeply unsettling about the voice, the only thing you could take from it was odd comfort. It was real. A person. A guardian Angel! You spun around on your heels desperate to see the source of your guidance however he managed to remain hidden in shadow. You swear you could hear him grin at your confusion.

“You listen well, my dear.” There was no denying it, it was the voice. Although only now, when it spoke so openly, did you notice that it was inherently male. So relieved with the news that you weren’t going completely mad with disembodied voices, you glazed over the other implications this reveal came with. If it wasn’t yourself than just who have you been talking to all this time? And, the more pressing matter, just who were you stuck with in the room.

The stranger claps again and moves around in the black, shuffling from one side of the room to the other and at times seeming to even be above you, looking down. “I am beyond impressed my dear.” The stranger smiled, unbeknownst to you getting closer with very advance. “Do you know where you are?” No reply. Honestly you had no clue. You had never been in this place before - it felt so detached, so different when compared to all the other realms you had grown accustomed to in the Fog.

“Hell.” The voice answered, purring like a cat with a trapped mouse, teasing it - relishing off its fear. “The deepest pit. And, what’s more, you came here all on your own free-will.” He moved again not content to stay in one spot for too long, trying to view you from every possible angle before he made his last move.

“Won’t you sing for me. My Angel of music. You know the one I mean.” His words hit you like a ton of bricks. A song? As you wracked your brain for whatever he could be referring to, a faint idea began to materialize right in the tip of your tongue. Words of a melody that you swear you had never heard before but still feel familiar with in your heart. The voice, it sang to you. How could you forget!  

“Every night I was there. Whispering my song to you in hopes that one day, you could join in with me.” That was true. Each time you dared to drift off to sleep, the voice would appear. He sang to you, gently and softly, talking into your ear to lull you safely away - only to wake hours later with no memory of the night before. Perhaps that is why you were always so attached to the voice, why its absence impacted you so deeply. There was a build of pressure behind you and suddenly he was there. The stranger towered over you without even looking, his chest pressed tight to your back. Exploring hands went down your arms and slowly brought them up like the two of you were about to start a dance. His head hung low to your ear, his breathing touching your exposed neck. He sucked in and exhaled meaningfully, taking in your smell and touch and your reaction to his closeness.

“Sing.” God, his voice was so smooth, demanding and rich. A sonorous tone that had never been shown to you before this. It shocked you to your core. He sighed again, one hand moving to caress your neck with the other holding your own hand. “Sing my Angel.” Up till now you were passive, sitting ideally in a dream-state as you let the stranger do as he wished. But now you wanted answers.

“Let me see you.” No answer came from the man be it verbal or physical. He remained completely unphased and unchanging.

“Sing.” He commanded again, no anger or annoyance in his tone only patience and hunger. He yearned for you to sing with him, to join in with his symphony. For too long has he gone silent, his soul dying along with his music. The bells no longer tolling and his music fading out like a lit match in the rain. When he found you, fallen like an angel right out of Heaven, humming alone to yourself, he felt the fire of passion ignite within him. You were perfect to him and now, you couldn’t resist him. You were defenseless, night having accustomed you to its unfurling beauty to the point that you were addicted to it – needed it, just as he did. There was no way either of you could go back now. You breathed into him, your nose filling with the smell of pine and smoke, and hesitantly after closing your eyes, you began to sing the words now burning hot in your head.

“Say you’ll share with me,” It wasn’t really singing, rather just breathless talking – a whisper that only the keenest of ears could hear. Regardless of what you sounded like; the stranger cherished every word that left your mouth. He started to shake, his hands holding on to you for support.

“One love, one lifetime.” He joined you now, singing as you did in a volume that only you could truly appreciate. His raspy, low-pitched voice mingling wonderfully with yours, sounding almost desperate to get the words out. Lips grazed your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“Say the word,” His hands tightened their grip as if to empathize his lyrics. “And I will follow you.”

“Say you love me.” Your combined voices bounced around the darkness stirring whatever creatures lay in hiding, your harmony compelling and immensely sorrowful. While a part of you faded into the song’s words, swaying and melting with the stranger content for once, something crawled into your head. The song was ending, and while you wished to stay forever in this blissful embrace, you demanded to know the face behind the voice. Your moment was coming.

“That’s all I ask of -” Slipping out his grasp at the moments climax, you spin around to finally lay your eyes on the stranger. He froze under your gaze, surprised by your sudden action. Looking up at an incredibly tall man, you felt your knees threaten to give out. Staring back were the glowing eyes of a killer, the very one that had, not long ago, tormented your friends. You couldn’t help but gasp and step away from him, breaking his hold on you. You inspected him as best you could in your lack of light, squinting your eyes as hard as you could but nothing in the darkness made itself known to you save for his unmistakable eyes. The stranger noticed your efforts and, fuming at your defiance to play along with him, raised a hand.

“You wish to disobey me? Fine!” The ground shook under foot, his shouting voice ricocheting off the rooms stone walls and sending the world into disarray. “Look at me Angel! In all my glory!” He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly your senses were overwhelmed by blinding white light. You flinched, shutting your eyes to the dramatic change in the room. When next you opened then you found the room to be hazed in familiar yellow candlelight. As if by magic, all candles had all be simultaneously lit. Your attention darted around like a trapped bird before resting on the man standing in front of you, his arms open and expression unreadable. Bathed in new light you could see him in immaculate detail.

Yes, it was the invisible killer, no doubt about it. But something was off about him. He looked different somehow; maybe it was his prim suit, navy fabric decorated with golden lace that fit his slender body snugly giving him a sense of proper and divinity. Behind him hung an extraordinary cape that fluttered in a non-existent breeze. On his face sat a white mask, crooked and dirtied from years of neglect which, in all honesty, covered little to none of his truly disfigured and burnt flesh.

Unparalleled fear began to rise in your chest. He was so tall, powerful and strange that it terrified you to be standing next to him. You stepped backwards, edging closer to the exit. The stranger’s eyes flickered. How could you fear him? He had never hurt you, Angel. All he has ever wanted was to be by your side, to never be lonely in the dark again. He has given you no reason to distrust him, he has never shown you his monstrous side. Yet still you shrunk away from his touch, choosing rather silent suffering than a lifetime of music with him. He felt something break inside him.

You saw his hand twitch, his off-center head bobbing as his labored breathing intensified. He took a small step forward and you replied by taking a large one back. He halted and so did you. Next to the broken thing that rattled around in his bones, he heard something else. A beating heart, weak and faint but somehow still alive. It moved and leaped, reaching out for you to take it and hold. Just standing in your company he heard music start to swell in his ears. You had listened to him once before, maybe he could get you to again.

The stranger's head dropped; through the lumpy cape you saw his shoulders deflate. What was he doing? Playing possum so as to catch you off guard? Whatever it was, you didn’t let the tension ease out your legs. You waited for his next move, ready to run if he tried anything suspicious. You didn't expect the sound of his voice to suddenly start singing again.

“Say you’ll share with me,” He sang his solo, his voice that of an airy murmur as if afraid to sing alone. Every word he sang clung to your ears, kissing your heart and mind with a complex sorrow. Your guard started to halter.

“One love. One lifetime.” He paused, swallowing the lump building in his throat warning to overflow and render him speechless.

“Lead me,” He raised a cautious eye to find you still waiting, offering him the chance to try coax you closer. A fist clutched his chest in an attempt to sooth his aching heart. “Save me from my solitude.” He was certain he was crying but he couldn’t feel the tears; you had his undivided attention.

“Say you want me here...” He faltered here, hand itching to reach out and grab you. “Beside you.”  The stranger could barely form audible words anymore, so slurred and choked up that you unknowingly leaned forward to try hear him better. 

“Anywhere you go,” He tried again, begging you to close the distance and join him. It was heartbreaking, this phantom, this person and the way he sang to you, each syllable dripping with an ocean of unimaginable pain and beastly hopelessness. It was infectious really; you could feel his sadness take over your heart shaking it in an iron grasp. Miserable eyes glared you down as you took the smallest step forward. “Let me go too.”

He didn’t continue - he couldn’t. The horrors of the whispering darkness and this god-awful place left him near-drained. Everything pushed down on him, suffocating him until he thought he was going to pass out. He could only keep his eyes on you. Blurry from tears he held onto your figure like your were a buoy in a raging sea, his only safety, his air. The stranger heaved from trying to maintain his composure. Finally the curtain fell and you gave in. 

Your foot falls were the only sounds that broke the silence in the room. You approached him with little to no conflict in your mind. Yes - he was scary. Yes - he was a monster. But the way he looked at you now, the way he sang and spoke; no killer would beg to be loved the way he did. It was like he was afraid of the dark, of being alone, of being condemned to an existence of pitiful silence. You craned your neck to look up at him, sucking back the wreckage still wavering just outside his control. 

“Pitiful creature of darkness,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, through teeth unfazed by their possible repercussion. You were speaking from your heart. A small hand connects with his unmasked cheek taking in the feeling of old, burnt skin and years of mud. He leans into your warm embracing having forgotten what it was like. “You are not alone.” 

Even on tip-toes you still were short of his lips. It was only when he gave in and leaned down that you were able to kiss him. Eyes closed, shoulders tensing, you melted into the kiss. His lips were rough, chapped, but gentle. He didn’t give anymore pressure until you asked for him, dragging you tongue along his bottom lip asking for entrance. He opened to you gratefully. Inside his mouth housed monstrous sharp teeth and an excited tongue and moved inside your mouth, tasting ever inch of you. He was greedy, demanding everything of yours. When you had nothing more to give, he relented and let you go.

You sank back on your heels gasping for breath. You noticed he was smiling, an odd sight of such a distorted and sad face. 

“My Angel. My Muse.” You felt him move on top of you, a hand sneaking behind your back making to bend over so as not be pressed uncomfortably against his chest. “I have many names of which to call you. I am eager to use them all.” He laughed, the sound rattling your whole body with its bass leaving you quivering. “But you, can call me Philip.” He tilted his head in a mock bow, his free hand grabbing the edge of his cape and fanning it out in respect. You offered you own  meek nod. His smile only widened at your compliance. 

“Come now,” Philip said standing up to his full height, his hand still securing your back. “Let me take you away. Away from all this numb light and into the darkness where no one will find us.” He raised his arm and cape and quickly brought it down around you, sweeping it around the both of your until he had you cocooned. 

The world fell into black again and all you could sense was him; his breathing, his reinforced arms cradling you. You could also hear a faint thumping when you put your ear to his chest - his heart. Once diseased and weak now pumped with vigor and delight. He had you in his grasp and he was never letting you go. You were his everything; his Angel of music.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

The Flour Follies (one shot)

Characters: Loki x Reader

Genre: Pure, unadulterated fluff

Rating: PG-13, some kissing and a bit of innuendo

Summary: When you are left behind from the latest Avengers mission, you turn to cooking to ease your anxieties, but the God of Mischief can’t help but get in the way.

A/N: This is for @babylevines​ 4k writing challenge! Congrats on so many followers! My prompt was: “You can’t be mean, because I cook the food… and I could technically poison you.”

“Ow! God that hurt!”

It was oddly quiet in the Compound, despite your cursing. The majority of the team had left on a mission, leaving you and Loki behind. Untested and untrusted, both of you. You weren’t ‘ready’ for it yet, and Loki hadn’t fully proven himself to be trustworthy in perilous situations. He probably never would, even though he had been living here for almost a year without incident. Well, serious incident. 

One can’t fault the God of Mischief for pulling a few harmless pranks - although his definition of harmless and that of everyone else may differ slightly. The time that he switched out the dummy training weapons for real ones hadn’t caused any harm, but that was only because Nat had seen the glint of sharpened steel just before she embedded it in Sam’s side.

You absolutely hated it when they left you behind. You’d only been part of the team for a few months, but you were still itching to go out and help your coworkers - and let’s be honest, friends - take on the big bad guys. Staying behind just made you anxious. It wasn’t productive to just sit around and wait for them to return, turning over more and more gruesome scenarios in your mind for the myriad of ways that they could get injured.

One thing that always worked to keep your mind and body busy was cooking. It was hard to consider gruesome ends to the lives of your friends when you had to keep the exact steps or measurements of a recipe at the forefront of your thoughts. Plus, everybody liked to come home from a long day of work to delicious food waiting for them, and it was a small thrill to have actual Superheroes compliment your cooking. So, while they sped away to fight crime or save the world or something else equally heroic, you toiled in the kitchen, intent on vanquishing their hunger as effectively as they did their enemies.

Well, judging by your cursing, it was a little less effective.

You pulled your fingertip into your mouth, giving the slow cooker a glare for having the gall to burn you. With your free hand, you, carefully, layered in the roast you had purchased, along with plenty of potatoes and carrots around and on top of it.

“You summoned me?” A velvety voice that you knew all too well called from behind you.

Pulling your finger from your mouth, you rolled your eyes and poured the broth that had been waiting beside the slow cooker inside of it. “You are not the only god, Loki.”

“But I’m the only one that matters.” You could practically hear the arrogant smirk that accompanied the words.

“What are you doing?” he asked, silently coming up beside you, peering at your work. He wouldn’t see much, as you’d already put on the lid and that had fogged up considerably, but he could still pretend that he was looking at something.

“Making food, smart one,” you explained bluntly, rolling your eyes.

Suddenly two arms clasped the counter on either side of you, boxing you in. You turned around and crossed your arms over your chest, an impressive feat considering how close he was to you.

“You know better than to insult me, mortal,” he rumbled, voice deep as he glared down at you.

“Oh shove off, Loki. I gotta make cookies.” You uncrossed your arms to push on his chest lightly, knowing that putting any force behind the gesture was useless. Super strength was not one of your abilities, so the only way to get him to back off was of his own volition.

He did his best to look menacing, but the predatory gleam in his eyes was lessened by the uptick of the corners of his lips. “We are all alone on this floor. I could do whatever I wished with you and no one would be any wiser. Your powers are no match for mine.”

“Whatever you wished with me?” You winked, shimmying your shoulders in an overdramatic seductive manner. 

With the quirk of your brow, you accepted his unspoken challenge and ducked underneath his arms faster than he could move them to compensate. You darted to the fridge before turning to stick your tongue at him. He was fast, but you were faster. “You were saying?”

He stalked toward you, head tilted forward and emerald eyes watching you from beneath sooty lashes, but you slipped behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. Were you being threatening? I’ll stand still.”

Loki’s hand reached out to snag your wrist as he whipped around, firm enough to hold you to the spot but not enough to bruise. “You are playing with fire, Y/N.”

You just smiled innocently up at him. In all the time you’ve spent here and interacted with Loki, he had made countless threats against you. It wasn’t a new vocation for him. But he had never acted upon any of them, and you firmly believed that he never would. No matter how much you pushed his buttons. And, oh, his buttons were fun to push. 

“Oh, I thought I was playing with a god. My mistake.” Not your best line, but it earned you the tightening of the skin around his eyes nonetheless.

“Do not disrespect me. You will regret it,” he threatened, towering over you, his nose inches away from yours as he tried to use your significant height difference to his advantage.

You didn’t cower, instead choosing to puff out your chest and return his sinister expression. “You can’t be mean, because I cook the food… and I could technically poison you.”

He tilted his head to the side, an arrogant smirk spreading across his pale, elegant features as he released you. “Your Midgardian poisons would do nothing to me.”

You went to the fridge and pulled out butter and eggs, setting them carefully on the nearest counter. You felt his eyes on you as you went to grab the flour from the pantry, and with your back to him, you quickly dipped your hand into the bag to grab a small handful of the fine powder. “Wanna find out?”

He hissed your name in warning and you just knew that he was coming up behind you. So predictable. When his long fingers clasped over your hip and flipped you around to face him, you didn’t resist the movement and used the momentum to take your handful of flour and slap it onto the smooth, soft material of his black button-down shirt.

His face contorted in shock, his jaw dropping and eyes wide. You burst out into laughter. It was too rich to see the pretentious god covered in flour, his typical black wardrobe highlighting the mess too perfectly.

“Oops!”

An impish smile tugged on his lips, and his eyes flicked behind you. Before you could consider the possible reasons for the mischief glinting in his gaze, the entire bag of flour was dumped onto your head, thanks to his magic. You sputtered in his satisfied face. After a stunned moment, the absurdity of the two of you standing there covered in flour bubbled up from within you and you gave in to it, laughing boisterously. Head thrown back, mouth wide open, eyes closed, and absolutely covered in flour you were sure that you looked like some wild thing, but you didn’t care. 

“Serves you right, wicked woman,” he teased, circling his arms around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.

You ruffled your hands through your hair, sending flour flying over the both of you. Flour dusted both of you more thoroughly for your efforts. It clung to his sharp jawline and lightened his dark eyebrows and hair. The effect was almost ghostly when partnered with the lightness of his skin. But the warmth in his eyes still sent your heart skittering as he gazed down at you as your laughter died down. That look, of pure happiness and adoration, was for you alone.

It was difficult to manage when he was so adorably disheveled - he’d have a fit if he knew you thought that about him - but you looked up to him with a false look of frustration on your face. You knew he didn’t buy it, you couldn’t stop the smile that parted your white-powdered lips as you rested your hands on his chest, but it was still fun to pretend. “Now how am I supposed to make cookies?”

He dipped his head to capture your lips in his, tasting of flour and coffee, his soft lips working against yours with practiced motions that you had perfected over the last few weeks. His fingers rubbed against your back pleasantly, making sure to send warm tingles through you and steal your breath away.

Having enthusiastically silenced you, he pulled away and smiled at your dazed expression as his nose nudged yours. “Forget about the cookies, pet.”

His insistence reminded you of your own mission, and you actually pouted. Somehow still able to focus on your task despite the handsome man gazing down at you, you thumped your hands against his chest lightly. Small white puffs of flour scattered into the air with each light hit. “But I promised Sam I’d make him my famous chocolate chip cookies. They’re irresistible.”

His hands tugged on your hips until they met his, and he brushed his lips along the soft skin of your neck. “I can think of another thing that’s irresistible.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you murmured, pushing against his chest lightly. “But I really need to get these made, so if you could unhand me…”

He relented with a heavy sigh, dropping his head to your shoulder. “Love.”

“Order more flour for delivery, and then we’ll talk,” you haggled, running your floured hands through his black hair, making an absolute mess of it.

A pleased hum vibrated out from his chest, and he lifted his head to press a kiss to your forehead, pulling away with a frown from the bitter taste of the raw flour on your skin. “You bargain with me?”

“Yup,” you replied, your lips popping the last syllable loudly between the two of you. You slipped out of his hold to gather the rest of the ingredients that you could find, leaving a cloud of flour in your wake.

When you finally stopped moving about, stationed in front of the stand mixer with the ingredients laid out before you, you turned your head to watch Loki over your shoulder with a quirked brow and a small smile on your lips.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., order more flour for the accursed cookies,” he commanded, staring at you as if you were a glass of water and he was stranded in the desert.

Your laughter echoed throughout the empty room as he lifted you over his shoulder and carried you away from the disaster of a kitchen.

“I believe that a shower is in order. Wouldn’t want to have errant flour falling into the recipe and ruin the whole batch of irresistible cookies.”

[talpup]

Chaos: Kitten Day

This is a pure smut piece that’s connected to my fic Chaos.  While not the sum total of smut in Chaos this happens to be written in such at way that it can be enjoyed as a one shot.

Don’t know if it’s the way my brain is wired, me being dyslexic, or what; but I just can’t write straight up reader inserts. That said, my work is meant to be self insert. It’s just that you’ll be putting your name in place of a name instead of in place of y/n.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155333/chapters/52984345

Chaos Summary: The day Aizawa Shouta betrayed his Love was the day the Daimon lost everything that mattered in his life. Now, with her awake from her slumber and memory wiped, he has another chance at having her and being happy. There’s only the small problem of heaven wanting his Love dead, and hell wanting control of her. And her promise to protect and help another. Oh! And her remembering what he did.But Shouta has waited so long to have her back. Has planned and taken measures to see his Love protected. He won’t loose her this time. He’ll do anything to keep her safe, and stop her from remembering his betrayal. Cost and consequences be damned.Though it really is a shame that the cost just might bring about Chaos. (PLEASE mind the tags!)

Flinting inside the cabin, Shouta choked on his sigh of relief.  He stared at the sight before him, mind blanking out for a few seconds.

“Kitten. Wha--” Shouta cleared his throat.  “What’s this?”

He could hear an unaccustomed strain to his voice; but fucking hell, with an image like that greeting him, who would blame him.  He growled at the idea of someone else seeing his Love like this.

Reyanna let out a needy purr.  “Master.”

That single, drawn out word sent blood rushing straight to his cock.  Legs unable to hold him, he fell back a couple inches to lean against the closed cabin door.

Reyanna felt nervous. Silly. But Shouta wasn’t laughing.  Nor was he rebuking her.  In fact, if the hungry look in his dark eyes was any measure, this was doing all the right sort of things for him.

She crawled as seductively as she could to him, the fluffy tail attached to her garter belt tickling her thighs.

Shouta watched her in lustful appreciation.  It wasn’t just the cat ears and long tail that swished against her ass.  It was the subtle cat themed lingerie that, like the ears and tail, matched her hair color.  It was her nails, carefully painted to look like claws.  It was the collar, and the tags that hung from it.

Fucking hell.  It was the tags.  That sound...  He never would have imagined that a sound other than Reyanna’s voice could do such things to him.  But the tinkling of those tags.  Tags that he hoped had Kitten inscribed on them…

She stopped in front of him and sat on her haunches.

Eyes on those wonderful tags, Shouta reached out needing to know what, if anything, was on them.

As he had hoped, one of the tags did have Kitten etched in it.  But the other…  What he read on the other tag was far, far better.  Pet of Aizawa Shouta.

Who would had thought that four little words could make Shouta’s cock leak so much pre-cum it wet through to his pants.

He didn’t try to hide the darkened spot, instead breathing out his appreciation in a drawn out rasp.  “Fuck.”

Reyanna licked her lips, struggling to hide her smile of glee. It was working.  Her plan was working.

“It’s Kitten Day, Master.”  Her hands climbed up his leg, nails digging in just enough.

“Oh?” Still somewhat dazed, it was all he could muster.

She nuzzled against his thigh giving him a look that made him feel both predatory and protective.

Her hand traced teasingly close to his trapped erection.  “It is.  And because of it, I was hoping you would let your Kitten celebrate.”

He gave her a small smile, thinking that he would gladly give his Love whatever she asked. At least he hoped he’d be able to. He doubted he’d be capable of a long, slow lovemaking; not for the first couple of rounds at least. But with the way she was licking at the damp spot in his tented pants, it was safe to say that she wasn’t in the mood of soft and sweet.

He pushed off the door, standing over her on his own power.  His hand reached out again, this time tracing over the cat ears.

“Such a good girl.  Surprising me like this.  Is this why you took it upon yourself to plan this time away for us?  Cause you wanted to play?”

She nodded against him.

He leaned back and tilted her chin up.  “Answer me properly, Kitten.”

“Yes, Master.”  Reyanna mewled, hips swaying side to side.

Damn. He needed to be in her, pounding away, now.

“I want to play.  Please, Master.  It’s Kitten Day.  Please, let your Kitty play.”

“Shush.” Shouta hushed.

He swiped the pad of his thumb over her lips.

Reyanna nipped at the digit.

Shouta smirked at her feistiness.  He pressed the tip of his thumb between her lips, encouraging her to take it in.

She did.  Eagerly swirling her tongue around it as she sucked.  Her eyes lifted, locking on his.  If her plan was to work, she had to keep him distracted.  The easiest way to do that was to keep him unbalanced by being both good and bad.

“Such a sweet, obedient Kitten.”  He murmured.

He pressed down on her tongue, relishing her moan.  His other hand pet between her cat ears.

“So pretty and good for--”  Shouta hissed.

He quickly pulled his thumb out of her mouth and inspected it; but the bite wound had already healed.  His eyes meet hers.

“Not so sweet and good after all.”  He remarked in stern amusement.

Reyanna crawled backwards, stopping in the middle of an area rug. “Please, Master. I want to play.  Please. Let your Kitty play.”

Shouta slowly stalked after her, eyes and mind focused solely on his prey. “Naughty Kitten’s don’t get to play.  They get punished.”

And boy, was he going to punish his little Minx.  He felt a thrill at just the thought of it, his cock twitching in the confinement of his pants.  He was too busy imagining all of the things he was going to do to her that he failed to sense the trap even as his foot stepped onto the rug.

Reyanna nervously licked her lips.  She was so close to catching her prize, she could taste it.  She just needed him to take one more little step.

“Master’s mean and cruel.”  She pouted.

Shouta chuckled darkly.  “Hardly.  But if you like--”

His sinister smile fell.  He had taken another step.

Reyanna now wore the sinister grin.  She had her prize.

Shouta scowled.  What the--  He was trapped.  How the hell had he stepped into a daimon trap?  Why was there a daimon trap?  Had someone found their secret hideaway?  But how did they manage to get through all the barriers he had painstakingly put in place to keep his Love secure?

He looked about, instantly on alert for danger.  That was until he glimpsed Reyanna’s proud expression out of the corner of his eye.

“Anna. What did you do?”

“I told you, Master.  It’s Kitten Day, and I want to celebrate.”

“By trapping me?”  He accused.

She shivered, desire growing at the heated irritation in her Lover’s deep voice.  And he said she was hot when angry...

She slowly crawled backwards.  “Well, I--”

Shouta rushed toward her.

Reyanna yelped and scurried away.

He slammed into the traps invisible barrier.

She glimpsed his cuts and bruises before they disappeared, healing with only a small bit of blood left behind. “Shouta!  Are you okay?”

“No.” He snapped, ignoring the dull, fading ache in his cheek.  “I’m stuck in a fucking daimon trap.  Let me out, Anna. This isn’t funny.”  When she didn’t move, he growled out.  “Now.”

Damn it!  Didn’t she realize how dangerous this was?  What if someone did happen to find this place and get through the layers of wardings?  With him stuck in here…

“I will.”  Reyanna promised.  “Just as soon as you hear me out and agree.”

Shouta’s lip curled.  “Now is not the time to be making demands, Anna.”

“Now’s the prefect time.  Why do you think I went through all of this?”

Shouta blinked.  His unclear mind finally piecing it all together.  She had planned this.  That was why she had been kneeling on the floor, dressed like that. Because without the distracting surprise of such a tempting treat, he would have instantly sensed the trap hidden beneath the rug.

He had censured and demanded release to no avail before finally hearing her out.  Her request had made him all the more aggravated and horny.  Yes. Even trapped and furious, he was still rock hard. How could he not be when she looked like that?  When practically every move she made made the tags hanging from her collar tinkle.  Damn. He wanted to hear those tags jingle to the tune and tempo of his rocking hips as he pounded into her.

Reyanna wanted to be in control.  To dominate Shouta in bed for once.

Of course he had said no, even though his cock had traitorously twitched at the thought.

And now they were here, with Reyanna sitting on her haunches just out of reach on the other side of the trap, fingering herself.

“Come here, Kitten.”  Shouta commanded, though his voice had long since lost its stern authority.

Reyanna responded by moaning.  Her fingers curled finding that special spot inside her.  Teasing herself, she pulled them out, rubbing her digits between her sopping folds.

It was a delightful torture to watch.  One that both weakened Shouta's resolve and made him all the more demanding.

“Do it again.  Let me touch you.”

But she did neither of those things.  Instead, she pulled her fingers away completely.

Shouta eyed her slick coated digits, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.  “Bring them here, Kitten.  Let me taste you.”

“You get nothing till you agree.”

Shouta felt himself waiver.

“Do you agree?”

“Suck your fingers clean.”  He ordered.

A sinister smirk pulled at her lips.  She lifted her hand, tongue leaking out.

Shouta stared, his own mouth pooling with saliva, hungry for the taste he knew and loved.

Right before her fingers touched her outstretched tongue, she pulled her hand away.

He opened his mouth to reprimand, but was struck silent when she traced her glistening fingers down one of her breasts and around a pebbled nipple.

He watched in panting desire as she cupped her breast and lifted it, dipping her head to lick herself clean.

The lewd slurping sound was torture enough; but when she trembled and moaned around her nipple, it ripped a strangled whine from Shouta’s throat.

Her eyes locked on his, shining with wicked delight.  She pulled off her nipple, giving the tiny dark peak one last flicking lick.

Shouta swallowed, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

“You’re missing out, Master.  We could be having so much fun if only you agreed.”

His eyes raked over her as if considering, but in the end he remained silent and immobile.

“Come on, Shouta.  Pick up that cord and tie your wrists together.  I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

He huffed, and turned away, strengthening his resolve.

He could make her feel infinitely better than she could alone.  It was only a matter of time before she gave up this nonsense of having control and freed him, begging him to fuck her.  It was a strength of wills.  All he had to do was hold out longer than she did.

“Fine.” Reyanna sighed.

Her hand slid slowly down her body, fingers once again pulling aside her underwear.

Shouta’s eyes immediately focused back on her.  Damn it!  She wasn’t playing fair.  He growled in frustration when two of her fingers disappeared from sight.  Eyes locked on her pumping fingers, he lowered further into his squat, trying to get a better view.

Reyanna smiled, tempted to tease and suggest he might have a better view if he laid on the floor.

She had purposefully planned it this way.  Stopping her striptease after taking off her bra and stockings.  Pretending to get the idea to play with herself.

“Damn it, Anna!  At least take off your underwear so I can see you.”

Reyanna rolled her head back with an exaggerated moan, her hips bucking into her hand.

Fuck! Shouta silently cursed.  He was weak as hell.  She made him weak.

“Come on, Kitten.  I want to see see you.  Let me see your pretty pussy. Please.”

Her fingers stopped pumping.  She pulled them free and once again lifted her hand.

Captivated, he watched her lick a long stripe up her fingers then push them into her mouth, sucking them clean.  His tongue rolled against the roof of his mouth feeling neglected and starved.

Slowly, she rose to her feet, making a show of pulling off her sodden underwear.

Unable to resist, Shouta reached out to her perfectly presented ass.  His hand hit the traps invisible barrier, the sizzling burn making him hiss and yank his hand back.

Looking over her shoulder at him, Reyanna righted herself and tisked. “Naughty, Master.”

“I just wanted to touch your tail.”

“Which one?”

“Let me out, Anna.”

“Tie yourself up.”

He pursed his lips, sulking.

Reyanna took up the fluffy cat tail that still hung from her garter belt and brushed it against a pert nipple, shivering.

Shouta growled, a wave of jealously washing over him.  He was the only one who should make her shiver like that.  If he couldn’t use the tail to tease her, than it shouldn’t be used on her at all.

His eyes darted to the panties she still held.  “Give me those.”

“What?” She asked, twirling the underwear around on a finger.  “These?  Tie yourself up first and then maybe--”

The underwear went flying.

Reyanna moved to catch them, but they flew just inside the area of the trap and she quickly pulled back before she crossed the line.

Shouta moved so fast that he was almost a blur.  First he made for Reyanna, readying to grab any part of her that crossed the line of the trap. But when she stopped, he went for the panties, snatching them out of the air before they could continue their arching trajectory that would’ve seen them out of his grasp.

He buried his face in them, breathing deeply.  It was one thing to have seen how damp the crotch of the fabric was, but to feel their wetness…  His mouth pooled with saliva.  His tongue darted out, licking wide, flat stripes up the slick soaked crotch, uncaring of the drool that dripped down his chin.

“Really, Shouta?”  Reyanna watched with a wry smirk of amusement.  “You’d rather do that than submit.”

Shouta pushed the crotch of the panties into his mouth, shamelessly sucking her essence from them.

She shook her head at his antics.  “And what are you going to do when you suck them dry? I doubt you’ll be able to hold out for long now that you’ve had a taste.”

He paused, having not considered that. Thankfully, his small whimper was muffled by the underwear stuffed in his mouth.

“If you take up that cord and bind your wrists together I’ll give you a taste from the source.”  She tempted.

Shouta watched her warily, tongue lapping at the fabric in his mouth.  Damn.  She was an evil little Minx.

“What’s the matter, Master?  Don’t think you can take what your Kitty has to give?”

He pulled the panties from his mouth.  “You’re a brat.  And I’ll see you pay for weeks, if not months on end.”

Reyanna smothered her concern.  He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.  Even before she had come up with this plan, she had known he would retaliate and punish her in the most delectable fashion.

“Come on, Shouta.  If you’re secretly worried, I already told you all you have to do is say the word Pup and the cord will disintegrate.”

“I don’t need a safeword.”

“Everyone needs a safeword, Love.  Even before the humans came up with such a thing, you always paused to ask how I was and if I needed break.”

That was different, Shouta thought.  That was him not wanting to truly hurt the woman he loved.

Reyanna smiled slyly and went on.  “Unless you’re worried for a completely different reason.  That you’ll like it so much you’ll want to do it again.”

Shouta scoffed.  “Unlikely.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible.”

The erection in his pants had become painful.  And while he wasn’t above sucking her juices from her panties, he was above jerking himself off; especially when his Kitten was standing right there naked and eager to have her way with him.

“Fine. But you have to promise never to do anything like this again.”

“Trap you or take control?”

Shouta growled.

“Fine! I promise.

“And no more striptease or playing with yourself.”  He added quickly.

Too happy over having won, she smiled. “Agreed.”

Shouta squatted back down, picking up the rune inscribed cord.

“Also, I’m--” He cleared his throat.  “I’m going to need to tend to me first.”

Her eyes lowered to his tented pants.  “I can most definitely do that.”

He sighed, looping the cord around his wrists.  “One more thing.”

“Shouta! This is about me having control.  Stop trying to bargain piece by piece to steal it back.”

His wrist were tied and lifted against his chest. All he had to do was bite the tail end of the cord and pull to tighten the wrapped loops and secure the knot.

But instead of doing that, he eyed her pointedly. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“The collar stays.”

At her smirking nod, Shouta took the end of the cord between his teeth and pulled before he lost his never and backed out.

Reyanna undid the trap and led him to the bedroom.

“How do you want me, Kitten?”

She paused, eyes skimming over the bed.  It was suddenly all so real. Shouta was actually going to let her do this.  Take control and dominate him in bed.  She was making Aizawa Shouta, feared daimon and ex-General of hell submit.  No.  She wasn’t making him submit yet. Even now he was still controlling things.

Shouta smirked, eyeing her smugly.  “You have thought this far ahead, haven’t you?”

She scowled at him.  “Of course I have.  Get in the bed and lay on your back, head on the pillow.”

Shouta's cock thrummed at the command.  Damn, he had been hard for so long it hurt.

He climbed into bed and paused.

“Are you sure you don’t want to undress me first?”  He asked, eyes looking up and down her naked frame.

“Yes. I’m sure.”  Her eyes darted to his ass.  Did she dare?  Her hand slapped across his ass.  “Don’t question your Kitten again.”

Shouta jerked at the spank.

He felt at war with himself.  On the one hand it made his dominant self growl; but the stinging jolt also made his aching cock throb all the more.

Her hand connected with his ass again.  “Hurry up and lay down.”

More pre-cum to leaked out of his angry cock.  The wet spot on his boxer briefs and pants spread.  He told himself it was because he had been hard and ignored for so long.

He laid down and rolled onto his back.

She got into bed and knelt beside him.  “Comfortable?”

He relaxed his head into the pillow and nodded.

Reyanna smacked the outside of his thigh.  “Use your words, Master.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now lift your hands for me.”

Shouta swallowed thickly, his uncertainty welling up again.

Reyanna picked up on this and lowered down. “Do you trust me?”

Shouta stared up at her beautiful face.  He felt the urge to roll them over and rub out his release against her nakedness.  He felt the shameful temptation to say that stupid safeword.  Not just to free his hands so he could push her down and pound into her till she was a drooling mess; but because he was nervous.

Her hand brushed his hair out of his face, the other tracing down his chest and dipping under the waistband of his pants.  “It’s a simple question, Shou.  Do you trust me?”

He nodded, lost in the feeling of her loving touch.

“Words, Shouta.”

“Ye--yes. I trust you implicitly.”

“Good.” She whispered placing a gentle kiss to his cheek before tenderly kissing his lips.

He lifted his head, pressing into the kiss, looking to deepen it but she lifted back up.

“Hands.” She commanded.

Shouta lifted his bound hands, allowing her to tie them to the headboard.

She smiled down at him, fingers lightly running over the line of his stubbled jaw.  “There’s a good, Master.”

He shivered at the praise.  Fuck! Curse his weakness for her. And why was she still calling him Master?  She hadn’t said it in a taunting way that sought to humiliate. Maybe it was because she was inexperienced?  But none of that mattered, not when his need had become markedly more painful.

“Anna. You promised to tend to me first.”  He said, hating the slight whine he heard in his low, gruff voice.

“I did.”  She soothed.

Her hands nimbly undid his belt.  Pulling it free, she looped and jerked it taut.

The snap that cracked through the air made Shouta tense.  More pre-cum dampened his clothes.

She smirked down at him in such a way that made him worry she was going to delay and use his own belt on him till he begged for it.  But she didn’t.  She didn’t even place the belt aside for later use.  Instead she blindly tossed the strip of leather away and undid his pants, pulling them and his boxer briefs off in one go.

“Fuck!” Shouta cursed when his aching cock sprung free.

“Poor, Master.”  Reyanna cooed, palms running up his thighs. “Such a big, angry cock.”  Her hand wrapped loosely around his length.  “Does it hurt?”

Shouta growled at her too light hold.

She pressed a knee between his, thrilled at how quickly he widened them, making room for her between his legs.  Lowering down, she licked a flat tongue over the head of his cock, moaning at the rich, heady taste of him.

“You taste so good, Master.”  She kissed the base of his cock, her loosely fisted hand slowly pumping his length, her other hand cupping and massaging his balls.  “So good.”

His body trembled at the stimulation, his hips bucking involuntarily.  He bit the inside of his cheek bloody, trying to summon his usual control.

“Take it in, Kitten.”  He ordered, sounding far more composed than he felt.

Her hand closed around his balls, squeezing just shy too tight.

“Fuck!” Shouta’s body went rigid.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Master.” She eased her grip on his sack, pressing a soft kiss to his trembling thigh. “Be good for me, least I show you what happens to bad Master’s who test their Kittens.” She felt his cock throb in her hand at that and smiled up at him deviously.  “Oh?  Did Master like that?  Being disciplined and chastised by his Kitty Cat.”

Shouta gritted his teeth, feeling his cheeks warm.  He turned his face into his arm trying to hide his blush before she saw it.

It was then that he realized why she was still calling him Master.  It had nothing to do with her inexperience, or mocking him.  She was doing it because it still did all the right things to him, creating something similar to the Pavlov's dog experiment. It was probably why she had kept the cat ears and tail on, and had easily agreed to the collar staying.

He was too shocked by the realization to be upset.  Instead wondering how the hell she was so good at this. Sure she knew all his buttons.  Sure, she had fought for and earned the occasional bit of control in bed, him letting her ride or blow him as she pleased.  But this… This was different. This was mind and sex play near or at his level.

Reyanna’s hot, wet mouth swallowed his cock and all coherent thought left Shouta's mind.  He groaned feeling her esophagus spasm around him.

She hummed, ignoring her gag reflex and the tickle of his pubic hair against her nose.  She pulled off him, her hand pumping till she caught her breath.  Then she began in earnest.  The sound of her tags hanging from her collar, jingling a rhythm that matched the bobbing of her head.

One hand worked what she could comfortably fit in her mouth, the other stroking his hip and thigh.  Her tongue dragged along the underside of his cock stimulating her salivary glands.  His cock came alive in her mouth, telling her he was close.

“Fuck.” Shouta cursed, feeling his balls tightened. “Be—good—and swallow—it all.”  He panted.

Though she didn’t stop, her eyes snapped open, locking on his.

The dark hard look she pinned him with made Shouta shiver in wanting and worry.  He bit his lip fighting back moan, and grunted, cumming in her mouth.

Reyanna did swallow it all, but she didn’t stop there.  She kept on swallowing and sucking till he came two more times.

Damn. It hurt so good, Shouta thought after he had cum for a third time.

When she continued, his cock stiffening again despite the ache, he pushed his hips down into the bed, trying to free himself from her hungry mouth.

“Anna. It’s too much.”

She lifted off him, licking a wide circle around her mouth cleaning the drool and cum off her lips.  “Forget the safeword already, Shou?”

“I’m not saying that thing.”  Shouta spat.  “I don’t need it.”

“Then it’s not too much.”  She countered.

A momentary look of unease crossed his face before he was able to pull himself back together.  He scowled at her fiendish grinned.

“What’s the matter, Master?  Didn’t you ask me to swallow it all.  I’m sure you’ve got more to give.  And I’m so very thirsty.”

His half hard cock bobbed in the air.

“Looks like there’s a part of you still eager for more.”

He opened his mouth to tell her that wanting and eagerness wasn’t the issue; but instead hissed, hips caught between bucking upward and pulling back when she licked his overstimulated dick.

Her hand bunched up his shirt, the other following in its wake, nails leaving red lines that quickly disappeared.  She bit and sucked up his torso, littering him with claiming marks that where gone by the time her face was level with his.

“But you’re always so insatiable.”

“I’ll never get enough of you.”  He confessed, lifting and tilting his head to kiss her.

She pressed two fingers to his lips.

Shouta growled in frustration. “Let me kiss you, Ann—fuck!”

She eased the pinched of his nipple, rolling it lightly between her fingers.  “Such a bad Master.  Still thinking he can tell his Kitty what to do.”

Damn it!  He was going to make his little Minx pay for this.  He pulled against the cord around his wrists, cursing himself for not making it loose enough to slip out of.  He thought of the things he was going do to her when he was free, causing his cock twitch against her thigh.

Reyanna sat up and straddled his chest.  “Lucky for you, I promised you a taste from the source.”

Shouta eyes lit up.

She tapped her fingers against his lips, and smiled down at him.  “You can’t get in trouble for giving orders if your mouth’s to busy to talk, now can you?”

He shook his head, a ready, willing reply falling from his lips.  “No, I can’t.”

“Hmm. Seems someone likes this idea.”

Her fingers left his lips, tracing down his neck and chest.

He watched her fingers travel the short distance down his chest to where she was sitting on him.

“Do you, Shouta?  Do you like that idea?”

He licked his lips, wishing it was his fingers dipping between her folds.

Focused on the sight in front of him, he didn’t notice her reaching back till the stinging slap hit his thigh.

“Yes!” Though he wasn’t sure if he was answering her query, or responding to the pleasurable pain of the spank.

“Say it, Master.  Tell me you would like me to sit on your face and let you eat me out.”

Oh. She wanted dirty talk, did she?  That he could easily do.  But then he realized that it wouldn’t be as easy as he had first thought.  That he would have to phrase his words carefully.

Reyanna smiled at his hesitation.  Good.  He was learning.  She knew he wasn’t ready to beg; but if he could state what he wanted without demanding it…

“I--” Shit! He had almost said want.  Was want too commanding a word in this instance?  Best not to use it just to be safe.  “I would like it if you sat on my face and let me eat out your sweet pussy.”

“There’s a good Master.”

Her moves became tentative as she moved to straddle his head. Without him guiding her, she was unsure of her placement and how far down to lower onto him.

“Um. Is this good?”

His small grin of excitement grew.  Silly Kitten, he thought in amusement. After all this, she became uncertain now.

“Lower, Love.  I can’t reach you way up there.”  As if to prove his point he lifted his head, stretching out his tongue.

She lowered a bit, breath hitching when his tongue connected with her.

Shouta moan, feverishly licking at her glistening wet folds.  Damn, it felt as if he had waited years to taste her.

“Lower, Kitten.” He gave her another lick, adding as an after thought. “Please.”

She sunk down some more, but he still had to strain his neck.  His let his head fall back, groaning at the loss of her soft, sweet cunt.

Remembering to be mindful of his words, he said.  “If you’ll allow, watch my hands.  I’ll fist them when you’re good.”

Her eyes left his to look up at his open hands.

“Do you approve of that, Kitten?” He asked, eager to begin.

“Alright.” She mumbled.

Damn it!  Why had she thought that sitting on his face was a good idea?  Sure the position was one of dominance; but she could only drown out her embarrassed uncertainty and muster so much boldness.

His hands fisted and she stopped.

Whether it was her display of lacking confidence that emboldened him or his near manic need to feast on her after being denied for so long, Shouta began without her say.  It wasn’t as if he needed her direction on how to best please her.

Once she started grinding against his face, moaning his name over and over, he knew she was close.  But he was too lost in the act it think about trying to get away with edging her.  Instead he slowed and lightened his ministrations after she came, letting her ride out her orgasm.  Anything to lengthen his time between her legs.

Holding onto the headboard, she rose off of him.

Shouta growled.  He lifted his head, tongue stretched out, licking after her.

Reyanna grabbed his hair by the roots and pulled his head back.  “That’s enough.  You’ve had your fill.”

She moved back, till she was straddling his hips.

Shouta’s head fell back into the pillow.  He licked a wide ring around his mouth, wearing a wild, toothy grin.

She would have felt self-conscious about the amount of slick covering his face if he hadn’t appeared so frightfully happy.

Reyanna wiped at his shining face.  “You’re a mess.”

Shouta turned his head and licked her hand.

Her eyebrow lifted, but he didn’t care.  It wasn’t as if he could use his own hand to wipe away what his tongue couldn't reach and lick it clean.

Letting his behavior slide, she smoothed back his plastered hair.  “You did so good, Shouta.”

Shouta sighed, nuzzling into her caressing touch.  He felt a momentary contentment that came with knowing he had pleased his Love.  But, it quickly vanished under his own throbbing need.

He pulled at his restraints, wanting, needing to touch her.  The wood creaked under the strain, bringing to mind the time they had broken the bed.  He hadn’t found it nearly as amusing as she had, and had taken to inscribing strengthening runes in all of their furniture. Something he now regretted.

He bared his teeth, pulling harder.

“My sweet, handsome Master.”  Reyanna cooed, kneading his straining muscles till they eased.  “I think it’s time for your reward.”

Shouta's ears perked at that.

She smiled down at him.  “You’ve been so good, I think you deserve a treat.  What do you say to me riding that big, fat cock of yours?”

His body thrummed with excitement.

It struck him then that she was using his methods on him.  That he had unwittingly taught her how to dominate him by dominating her all this time.  But he couldn’t find it in himself to care.  Not when she said he would be getting his treat.

Reyanna bit hard at the tender spot of his neck.  Her nails raking down his side drawing droplets of blood before the scratches healed.

“Ah! Fuuuck!”  Shouta’s body tensed, quivering in pain.

It hurt so good.  It felt so damned good.  And knowing what was coming next.  And still being high from feasting on her, her taste still on his tongue...

“Tell me what you want, Master.”

“I want you to ride me.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please.” He said, without hesitance or shame.

Shouta groaned, head rolling back when she slid down onto him.

There was only one thing he loved more than eating Reyanna out and it was this.  His dick inside her.  It didn’t matter if it was a fast, rough fuck or a soft, sensual lovemaking.  He lived for being buried in her.  But it wasn’t just the feeling of his cock stretching her out, making her insides fit him perfectly.  It was the closeness.  He rarely felt more connected to her than he did when he was literally connected to her.

As soon as she rose up, he bucked his hips, burying himself in her again.

Reyanna pulled off him completely.

Shouta moaned at the loss of that connection.

“You do that again and you’ll be stuck watching me finger myself.” She warned.

He snarled at her, but she was unimpressed.

Needing her tight wet warmth enveloping him, he apologized.  “Sorry.”

Needing him as much as he needed her, she sunk back onto him.

“Fuuuck.” Shouta exhaled.  How was it that she felt even tighter?

The pace she set was slow and steady, but quickly built.

Shouta threw back his head.  It was difficult enough to keep his hips still, but the noises.  They were impossible to silence.  No matter how hard he gritted his teeth the sounds bubbled out.

She was bouncing on him now.  Impaling herself on his cock.  The sweet jingling of her collars tags a new and welcomed addition to the harmonizing sound slapping flesh and wet squelching that usually accompanied Reyanna’s singing moans.

He began thrusting up; and not wanting to stop, Reyanna pressed down on his stomach.

Shouta's hips bucked up, grinding into her core.  “More, Kitten. Give me more.”  The stern flash of her eyes reminded him of her warning and he broke knowing he couldn’t have stopped from thrusting if he tried.  “Please.  Please, Anna. Fuck me.  Fuck me harder.  I need you, Love.  Please. Fuck me.”

It was hearing him beg that sent her over the edge.  The walls of her pussy clamping down around him, making his hips stagger.

She fell onto his chest panting.

“Such a good boy.”  Her lips brushed his jaw.  “Such a good Master for your Kitten.”

Shouta's body seized.  His teeth gnashed together, lips curled.  A strangled long, deep moan reverberated through him as he shot his load into her still spasming cunt.

After a moment, she reached up and pulled at the cord, undoing the knot.

As soon as the cord loosened, Shouta pulled his hands free, burying them in her hair.  The cat ears sliding off, forgotten.

“Did you enjoy--”

Shouta silenced her with a kiss, wrapping his arms around her.

She tired to push off him; but he growled, tightening his hold.  His arms were sore as hell, that wasn’t letting his Kitten go.

“I’m just going--”

“No.”

They were a mess.  All she wanted was to get them a damp washcloth. “Shou, I--”

“Stay.”

“At least let me off of you so you’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’m good.”  He said, thinking that this was perfect.

He felt her relax into him and eased his hold, stroking her plastered hair.  “So, is there really such a thing a Kitten Day?”

“Don’t know.”  She mumbled into his chest.  “But there should be.”

He hummed in agreement, eyes drifting close.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

His fingers halted in her hair.

“Maybe a bit.”  He conceded.

“Does that mean we can make it an annual thing?”

Shouta’s eyes snapped open.  He looked down at her.

She gave him a devilish smile and bit him hard.

“Fu—You little Minx!”  He rolled them, pinning her to the bed.

“Please, Master.  Let your Kitten play again next year.  I promise I’ll be good if you do.”

It was his turn to give her a grin, one that had far to many teeth.  And she absolutely loved it.

“I’ll consider letting it be an every other year thing. But first, you have to show me just how good you can be.”

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours.  If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know.  It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special thank you to those who have left comments or re-blogged.  They really mean a lot.

An extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 not only for this updates idea but their encouragement and friendship.

[ghouls-dream]

Ait so that’s the promised smut, sinners. Enjoy!

Dewdrop x Reader 

(WARNING!!! SMUT, +18, NSFW for days and please don’t read if you’re too sensitive) I hope you like it guys, I was really nervous before posting it bc I’ve never been this descriptive sooo uhh :”) love u.

“Intoxication“

 What was the time again? I didn’t even bother to look once again at the old, stupid clock, hanging over the stone wall. However my eyes unintentionally glimpsed at it. ‘Fuck dammit’ my mind swore. Was it because I did what I really didn’t need to do, or because of the hour. Exactly three thirty in the fucking morning and my head was spinning… Maybe the alcohol was finally kicking in? Or maybe it was the combination of my exhausted self and… Well the damned alcohol. Being a witch in the Church of Ghost, having Imperator as your class teacher and constantly being torn between the need to leave because of pressure, or burn yourself voluntarily was all leading to this state of… Mind?! Or insanity. I was drained - emotionally and physically. Striving to fulfill Imperator’s expectations wasn’t an easy thing and honestly - I was close to giving up on that “fantasy”. I wouldn’t sacrifice my own liver because someone has ambitions bigger than their ass. Alcohol had never been my friend. We weren’t even acquaintances to be fairly honest! Maybe perfect strangers described our “relationship” the best. That night - I didn’t care and that was probably my biggest mistake. Or at least that’s what the sober part of my mind (what was left from it) was trying to tell me. Did I listen? Obviously not, since my legs were already leading me out of my chambers. 

I felt myself swinging from side to side, with each step becoming lighter than before, with only one thing on my mind. Only one person to be exact… And to be even more precise, it wasn’t even a person. It was something between a human and a demon, but Hell knows how much I had a taste for trouble and horrible men… Human or not. And Dewdrop was a perfect choice - or at least he seemed like one right now.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking for - sex, fucking, talk, another drink, a shoulder to cry my exhaustion on? It was either all of the things or none, but I was about to find out. One thing I knew for sure - he wouldn’t have hesitated to have me, since his dirty hands, mind, tongue and whatever the hell other part of his body you can think of, was at some point in contact with my own. We’ve always been like magnets me and him… Attracting one another then one of us turns around and… Boom! We don’t speak for weeks until the one of us gives up and… And creates some gossip for the curious Sisters of Sin. 

Enough of that… Now more than ever I just wanted to get straight to his room, which seemed like a mission impossible, but then.. A miracle happened! Or at least I hoped it did - I was finally standing before a door. The third door to be exact. I looked around myself, feeling a slight episode of giggle coming out, but luckily - my reflexes were still strong. I put a hand to cover my idiotic chuckles as the other one knocked on the ghoul’s door. 'Shit I hope it’s you’ I thought to myself, realizing what I was doing few moments after. I waited and waited… And waited, until I was almost ready to make an attempt and leave, but the door suddenly opened. My eyes immediately locked on his icy-blue ones, which didn’t make my knees weak, strangely enough… But just fed my need to laugh even harder! And so.. I did!

“Well someone is knocked out…” his raspy, sleepy voice fonded my ears. I blinked a few times before taking a hold of the wall and answered.. Maybe a little too louder than neccessery “Wanna finish me off?” There’s no need to say that the attempt of me trying to sound as seductive as possible was more than miserable. I was making a fool of myself… And strangely enough - I loved it because I couldn’t care less. I let out another chuckle, shaking my head. Dewdrop raised his eyebrows, before putting a playful smirk dance on his lips and spoke quietly “Yeah, there are two things I’m not really into - necrophilia and rape, so I’d pass.”

“But I’m not dead?” I laughed loudly, before feeling his hand dragging me inside his room. He seemed pissed for some reason? Was it me? I gasped slightly at his sudden move, before feeling my back hitting the door that locked behind me. Only now I could see Dew fully. He was still having his black pants on, while his shirt was gone, leaving him only with his not-so-well-defined abs and tattoed, bruised body. I instantly bit my lip as his hands went on both sides of my arms. His eyes were piercing me like spears and it felt… Absolutely insane. “You reek of alcohol, Y/N. Which means you’re drunk. Therefore you’re not thinking straight and that by itself means rape. So my answer is no. Try again in the mornig. I promise you, you’d like it better” Dewdrop whispered against me - his hot minty breathe hitting my lips… And there it was. The weakness in the knees. It showed! Finally - all joined the “game” - my weakness for him, the alcohol and my hormones. All were thriving! 

“But I want you…” I whispered, getting closer to his lips as my hands wrapped around his neck. My body immidiately relaxed as I almost dragged him down, before he caught me up and scoffed “The alcohol wants me, not you” “No I do!” I chuckled. Dew rolled his eyes, letting out a deep sigh as I continued my teasing “Come on… I’ve heard "stories” about your… Er… Tastes? The ropes and shit. You like BDSM? I’ve never tried. Come on, give me a ride, Dew. Should I go down on my knees and wait fo…“

"Woah, woah, woah. Who the fuck told you all this?” finally he laughed as well, still holding onto my arms tightly. His blue eyes locked onto mine. He seemed entertained. Finally! I was starting to figure out what I actually came here for… “The sisters? Some of the girls you’ve fucked before? Come on i’m starting to feel less special… I’ll tell Imperator Dewy doesn’t wanna have fun with mee” my voice instantly became a lot more high pitched and childish. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, judging by his strict expression and the frown. His face became darker, even his lips formed a thin red line… And the weakness in my knees grew bigger in proportion of my heart race.

I swallowed slowly, feeling his grip over my arms becoming a little tighter. The atmospheric change could be sensed as well. It was getting harder to breathe… And also hotter. But maybe that was the Jack Daniels reminding me of himself and my bad decisions. “As much as I want to tuck you in bed, I also want to get you down on your knees and shut that pretty little mouth with something big enough to silence it.” his voice spoke. The way he didn’t even sound angry was making it unbelievably creepy… Because I could feel the rage radiating through his pores. The knot in my throat grew bigger as I opened my mouth slightly and managed to whisper “Please… I want you.” “How? With or without the ropes?” Dewdrop whispered, still not breaking the contact between our eyes. I could sense how he was trying his best not to rip my clothes off.. Because I was feeling exactly the same. My heart was pounding like crazy as his fingers started dancing over my bare arms all the way to my cleavage, pulling it gently just so he could tease me… And he was succeeding! I swallowed hardly finally, before hearing the warm summer wind through the cracks of the stones. One of the near candles was put out as my eyes quickly fixated on the thin smoke. And then my mind was striked… With probably another bad idea.

“Wax” I simply whispered out, stepping a little more confident on my feet. My eyes finally met his confused ones. Dew questioned me “Wax?” “Yes. Use it.” I responded. “It will hurt. You can’t just do it with any wax..” the ghoul tried to speak reason into my already aroused self. I pressed my hips to each other, feeling the wetness growing between them as I whispered next to his lips “Then let it hurt.”

And that was all needed. All needed for Dewdrop to put the most sinister of smiles over his face. He pressed his thin lips onto mine, creating the blissful sensation of euphoria in my body that I craved for so long. His long fingers tangled in my hair, getting a hold of it, his tongue fighting with mine… Pure primitive instincts for domination.

I felt my legs walking again. This time they were led by the ghoul, walking backwards to his bed. While his left hand was pressing me towards his chest, the other one was desperately trying to find something else rather than my hair. This moment he separated from me, leaving me absolutely breathless with… Probably arrhythmia and spoke, while panting “Get on your knees.” Done. I immidiately did what I was told as I watched him taking out on of the candles from its candlesticks. Dewdrop then turned to me, smirking down at my aroused persona “Take off the dress”

Done. Once again without hesitation from my side. My shaky and excited hands quickly removed the black lacy piece of clothing, before throwing it to the side. That was obviously amusing to watch since Dewdrop let out a deep chuckle as he blew out the candle “So impatient… I bet you’ll regret it” “I bet I… Oh!” I tried to speak out, before I felt the hot wax dripping over my exposed skin. It was burning. It felt like hot blades piercing my skin… But just for few seconds. After that it wasn’t this bad at all… Until it hit my left nipple. Dew knew exactly what he was doing. It was entertaining to him for sure!

I squeezed my eyes, letting out a small whimper the moment the wax made a contact with my right one. “You sure you still want that? You can always give up, girly..” the ghoul reminded me, still watching from above. I opened my eyes just to see the blue shades in his gaze becoming… Darker. Filled with lust. Arousal! “Yes…” I moaned out the moment he bent the candle once again and the wax hit the skin over my collarbone. “Oh, I love that sound…” Dew remarked. My gaze immidiately shifted to the growing buldge in his black pants. And suddenly… I couldn’t feel the pain of the burn. Only the need to have whatever it was in there inside me. One way or another!

My hands instinctivly traveled to his zipper, pulling it down slowly, still not breaking the visual contact between us. Dew clenched his jaw which made me smirk. Now I was the one in power! My fingers quickly unbuckled his belt as I pulled his black pants down, along with his boxers… But before that - I made sure to give his still covered memeber the “attention” it deserved. My lips roamed the tip of his head, while my eyes enjoyed th faces Dewdrop pulled off - lip bitting, brows coming together.. He was fighting the urge to shove it in my mouth. Even his hand was giving him out - that poor candle was at the point of breaking thanks to his grip.

“Suck it. Suck it now!” he finally hissed at me, before pulling down his boxers and forcing my mouth into it. I squeezed my eyes immdiately. My reflexes were telling me to pull back, but his hand went behind my head, pushing me to take him all in. His member was hitting that certain spot deep down in my throat that was making me slightly regret my decision… But I did my best not to make much more noises than needed.

Seconds after I started choking, while holding onto Dew’s hips. He grabbed a fistfull of my hair, pulling me away just so he could bend over to my level and “reward me” with the most content, terribly… Insanely aroused face he could pull and a sinnister smirk. He whispered against my face as tears started falling down my eyes. Not because I hated what I was doing, but because it was unexpected… And rough. And I loved it!  “I’ll fuck the drunk out of you and leave you sore and sober for days, Y/N.” And this was the moment I lost my words. My mouth formed a small o-shape due the shock of his sentence, but then… Then again I met his member up close. This time not so roughly - Dew felt merciful (on himself of course) for once and only pushed my head towards it. My tongue knew what to do - it licked every inch of his lenght all the way to the tip of the head, where it stopped. Circles and small sucks were all that this specific spot received from my side. “Look at me!” he commanded, reminding me of that action. I immidiately locked eyes with him. 

Dew was a frowning, grunting, sweating mess. I smirked to myself before making an attempt to take as much as possible of his erection in my mouth, despite the pain from the sudden deep-throat. My eyes never leaving his as I bopped my head back and forth. And then again… I felt his hand roughly pushing my head towards his member. I squeezed my eyes, gripping his thighs once again, before sensing how my limit was close. I gagged lowdly, as I felt Dewdrop’s hand pulling and pushing my head towards himself… Moans and swears in latin, leaving his mouth. Music for my ears! It was all worth it - mutually! The wetness between my legs was starting to almost drip like the hot wax from few minutes ago….

“Oh, fuck, Y/N!” he growled one last time before tilting his head back. I thought that this was the end of him… But i was wrong and naive. And he - experienced a lot more than me. My tongue was desperately trying to give his member the needed attention - swirling around the lenght of his erection, even my fingers joined the game. I finally opened my eyes just to see him starin at me. Dew whispered “You little harlot… Lay down on the bed and spread your fucking legs for me”. Third time - done! The softness under my back devoured me as I felt the world spinning slightly… Luckily the slight breeze brought me back to my senses, just to find myself beneath Dewdrop’s body. His lips immidiately crashed onto mine - hungrily kissing and abusing them as I traced my nails over his back, leaving red marks. My hips instinctivly buckled up towards his erected member.. All I needed was some sort of friction! Even a touch would have been enough at this point!

Dewdrop chuckled above me, before bitting my lip as I gasped. Everything was so unexpected with him and it was driving me insane! And closer to the edge, which was actually pathetic having in mind he didn’t even touch me the way I needed him to! “Nice nipples you have there…” he whispered towards my lips as I felt his skillfull fingers moving dangerouly close to my right nipple. 'Oh, no..! The wax!’ I thought to myself as I felt the slight pain of his actions - Dew “ripped” the sitffened wax of my sensitive spot and I gasped, arching my back. He smirked before doing the same to the other one… Sweet pain was shooting through my body as I whimpered.

“Should I take it further and drip some hot, melted wax over….” his seductive voice whispered in my ear as I felt his fingers traveling down my body towards my wet, throbbing core. Once they touched it, I instantly moaned, feeling how they sunk deep into me.“Here?” he finished his sentence. “No! No please not there!” I begged throwing my head back to the his pillow. Dew pumped his fingers a few seconds just enough to drive me insane and almost make me come… The knot in my stomach was getting tighter with each movement, before he pulled his two fingers out of me and gave my mouth a hard, passionate kiss.

Immidiately after that I felt his member entering me, making me widen my eyes in surprise as I moaned loudly into his mouth. Dewdrop moved in agonizing speed… It wasn’t too fast, but far from being enough to make me each of us come. The moment he separated his lips from mine, his hand got a hold of my neck and squeezed it slightly. I gasped. “That’s right, Y/N… Tell me now how much you love to get railed by half-demons! I bet you’re so proud of yourself, girly…” Dew remarked as his hair gotten into his face the more and more he thrusted into me. My limbs were way too numb to try and move it away and even if they were capable of doing it, I’d probably get denied by him. Dew’s suddenly pinned my wrists down to the bed, still keeping his speed as my moans became louder and a lot more desperate.

“P-Please…” I managed to speak out. “Please what? Say it and you’ll have it” the ghoul whispered. Looks like the words were true after all - the devil is not an little red man with horns and a tail… Instead he’s a fully grown man with tail, horns and a dirty mind that would make even Satan blush in shame. “Come! Make me come!” I shouted out arching my back as I felt what was left from the wax on my chest breaking. This shot another small sensation of pain through my body as I opened my eyes. Dew smirked at me, before tightening the grip around my wrists… they were starting to hurt.

Suddenly he flipped me over to my stomach. I gasped in surprised as he once again separated my legs as he moved between them. And again - that well known feeling of his member entering my throbbing core. I moaned as he started to thrust harder in me, his hand pulling my hair to his chest as the other one started playing with my sensitive clit. I squeezed my eyes, feeling the bubble in my stomach ready to burst before he growled… Almost inhumanly “Veni!” And for the last (hopefully) forth time this night… I did what i was told. The sweet release of my orgasm hit my body like a lightning, paralyzing every part of my limbs. I got a hold of the wooden bedframe, panting wildly as I felt Dew’s release inside. Still gripping my hair, but this time kissing my left shoulder, he breathed out “A-Are… Are you sober already? Or should we go for round two?”

“No, no… No!” I chuckled, feeling how Dewdrop was pulling me into his soft, warm embrace. He spun me around swiftly, being careful not to make me completely lose control of myself, as he stared into my eyes. “You seem tired” I remarked, gently brushing his cheek with my knuckles as I gave him a sweet smile. My body relaxed into his arms as he made us both lay down on the bed, me putting his head on his chest as Dew whispered “Tired of your bullshit, yeah.” “You dickhead! I’ll never fuck you again!” I squeeled out jokingly, hitting him with his pillow as he laughed, before pulling me back into his arms “We both know that’s a lie… Now rest. You’ll need it.”

[gaiyofanfiction]

SD: War Zone - Chapter 4

Stray Kids vs NCT Gang!AU (Sequel to The Stray District)

Gang Leader!Lee Know x Gang Leader!Reader

Angst/Drama/Action

A/N: Thank you to everyone who supported my first book, The Stray District! I’m so happy everyone liked it. In response to the overwhelming support, I decided to write a Sequel! I would highly recommend reading the first book before this one, things would make a lot more sense.

Warnings: PG13. Violence, Torture and Seductive Themes (Nothing sexual that crosses a line for underage idols.) Yandere type themes.

Disclaimer: This is pure fiction. All artists named in this fic are given a fake personality by me. This does not in any means reflect on the individual idol or groups. To my knowledge, they are all sweet, amazing people that wouldn’t hurt a fly.

~~~

Please read the first book The Stray District before reading this one. For the Masterlist, please msg me!

~~~

You never knew how much you could possibly hate a single individual until Lee Taeyong had let his existence be known to you. Like now, when you felt nothing but pure hatred for the cocky man standing in front of you, with that shit eating grin you so desperately wanted to wipe off his face.

“Lee Taeyong,” you grind your teeth together.

Taeyong smirks. “Surprised to see me alive, doll?”

You tilt your head. “Eh, not really. I figured after finding out those police officers were fake, that you would probably be alive.” You giggle. “Nice try, though. Valiant effort. I'd clap my hands if I wasn't currently shackled to your basement wall.”

Taeyong's smirk fades into a look of annoyance. “Is that so?”

You nod your head. “Yeah, it was pretty obvious. Even someone with a low IQ could have figured that out.” You shift your eyes towards Jaemin. “Right, Jae? I'm sure even you would have been able to come to the same conclusion.”

Jaemin growls and takes a step towards you in anger. “Baby needs to be punished.”

He is stopped by Haechan. “Don't let her get to you. She's just trying to rile you up.”

“Oh, I almost forgot about Haechan. I'm sure you could have figured it out as well.” You squint your eyes. “Eh, maybe. Not quite sure about your intelligence level.”

Haechan's jaw drops at your shameless insult. He mutters to Jaemin, “we can punish her when we get our alone time with her.”

You turn your attention back to Taeyong, squinting. “Is that a scar on your eyebrow?” You feigned innocent. “Who did you get that from?” You laugh, enjoying the teasing of your captors

“ENOUGH!” Taeyong snatches your throat in his hand, squeezing until you stop talking. “Stop talking before I blow up your little friends.”

You squeak at the pressure his hand has on your throat. He squeezes until your face turns blue and there are tears in your eyes. Once he's satisfied, he releases his grip on your throat, causing you to wheeze and cough aggressively. You turn your icy glare onto his face.

“Once I get out of here, I'm going to kill every fucking one of you, even if I die in the process.” You spit at Taeyong's feet.

“You will never get out of here. We own you and your life. We are the ones who get to say whether you live or die,” Taeyong growls. “We will make you suffer just as you made us.”

“You keep saying that! What the hell do you mean ‘just as you made us’? I have never done anything to you!”

“Oh yeah?!” Taeyong cuts you off. “You think so?! Let me give you a little reminder.” He drags a chair over to you and sits down facing you. “Do you remember right at the beginning of the rebellion in 2015, there was an explosion that happened at the SM company building, right here in Seongnam? I KNOW you know what I'm talking about Y/N. Everyone knew.” He sees you nod slowly before continuing. “Well, that explosion was caused by citizens of District 9. And the employees that worked in that building?” His eyes turn dark. “Those employees happened to be members of our families.” He growls. “It's your fault that our families are dead!”

Your jaw drops, eyes wide. You shake your head. “What?! How is that my fault?! I wasn't even running the District at the time-” Taeyong cuts you off with a harsh kick to the stomach. All the air painfully leaves your body with that kick.

“Shut up! Doesn't matter if you were in charge at the time or not. You're in charge NOW, so you and your precious city will receive the consequences of your past citizen's actions.”

“T-The h-hell we will.” Your breath is heavy, trying to breathe through the pain from the blow to your stomach. “I will not let you destroy my city or my citizens. They trust me to take care and protect them and I will do just that.”

Taeyong slaps you hard across the face, a stinging sensation spreading across your cheek. “You will give me the District and you will take responsibility for the deaths of our families. And then once that's done, the Dreamies can do what they wish with you.” He grabs you harshly by the hair, pulling your head towards him, his voice an octave lower. “You will never make it out of here alive.” He releases you with a push.

You watch as Taeyong steps back to the members also present in the basement, all watching you with either smirks or glares. Your legs wobble as you stand up, pulling at the shackles holding you to the wall. “You can torture me or do anything you wish, just don't hurt my members or my citizens. Please.”

“I can't promise anything, darling,” Taeyong chuckles. “But, torture does sound like a nice idea.” He snaps his fingers, nodding towards Haechan and Jaemin. “You have free reign, boys. Get me any info you can. And don't forget to have fun.”

Haechan and Jaemin send sinister smiles in your direction as the rest of the members file out of the basement. Soon it was just the three of you. You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes shifting between the two boys.

“W-What do you two plan on doing?”

Haechan chuckles, “well, you humiliated us in front of the boss. So, you need to be punished.” He takes out a switchblade blade, flipping it open.

Jaemin follows suit. “We will make sure you know who fucking owns you. And that's us.”

The two boys approach you with their blades out. Your eyes shift between the two of them in worry. Haechan comes up on your right side and pushes you against the wall by the throat, his lips lightly brushing yours. “Now be a good little girl and stay put. We can't have you moving around too much or we'll mess up.”

“M-mess up?”

You feel the cold metal of the blade and then a sharp shooting pain traveling across your shoulder. You scream in agony as Jaemin takes his blade and starts to carve something on your left shoulder. Your eyes shift to your shoulder, watching the blood start to bead and drip down your arm.

“W...w-what are y-you doing?!”

Jaemin continues dragging the blade into your skin, as of he was painting a picture, a small smile on his face. “Since you belong to us now, we are imprinting our names on you.”

You continue to scream as he continues to carve into you. Haechan crashes his lips onto yours, hungrily swallowing your agonizing screams. As soon as Jaemin is done, they switch. Jaemin holds you against the wall by the throat as Haechan paints across your right shoulder with his blade.

“After these heal, you will forever be scarred by us.” Haechan pauses and stares at you. “No one will ever want you with these ugly scars adorning your skin. You'll always come crawling back to us, just to feel even a little bit wanted.” He continues carving until he's done. He steps back and admires his work with a grin. “You'll eventually learn to love us, my dear. Since you'll be unwanted and unloved by everyone else. But we'll love you.” He caresses your cheek, almost lovingly.

Jaemin releases your throat and you completely collapse, hanging by your wrists. Tears flow down your cheeks and the blood flows down your body. You breathe heavily, sweat beading across your forehead. Your body starts to shake from the intense pain.

“P-please stop. P-please.” Your voice comes out in weak whispers.

Jaemin squats down next to you and pulls you into his lap as best he could with you shackled. He brushes the sweat soaked hair out of your face and looks at you almost as if he feels guilty about what he just did.

He speaks to you gently. “Oh babygirl. It'll be okay, I promise. We don't want to hurt you.” He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, moving to your cheeks and then your lips, almost trying to comfort you. You want to protest, but you're too weak to stop him. “But you do need to be taught a lesson on behavior. You need to learn to submit to us, my love. Don't worry, it'll all be over soon. And then you can rest, okay?”

“Y...you..y-you two are fucking psychotic.” You stutter out in pain.

“Ah ah, sticks and stones, my love.” Jaemin pushes you off him gently and stands back up. Haechan goes over to the locked cabinet that you noticed earlier, unlocking the lock. You watch with wide eyes as you see what's inside the mysterious cabinet.

‘I'm so fucked.’

~~~

Chan, Changbin and Han have been waiting for hours, watching NCT's hideout and waiting for their backup. The longer they have to wait, the more restless they become. It was almost dark by the time their backup arrived.

Changbin was the first to notice E-3 show up, giving Kevin a high five. “Hey man, long time no see.”

Eric and Han greet each other as do Jacob and Chan. They catch up for a minute before getting down to business. Eric speaks up over the group. “So what are we looking at?”

“We've figured this is NCT's hideout, considering we saw Y/N get taken inside. Problem is, we don't know how many of the 21 members are currently inside.”

Jacob nods, understanding the situation. “Alright, so what's the plan?”

Han takes out his pistol, checking the amount of ammo he has and clicks it into place. “We're going to walk right through the front door.” He smirks.

E-3's eyebrows shoot up, half in shock and half in amusement. They shrug and ready themselves to walk straight into NCT's hideout. Han is the first to enter the storefront, immediately followed by the 5 boys. There was a man behind the counter, his back to them. He hears the door open but doesn't turn around.

“Hello, can I help you?”

The man hears the click of a gun, his body freezing. He tilts his head slowly to look behind him, immediately noticing the group of boys.

“Hello Han.”

Han has no emotion in his face. “Mark, long time no see.” Han places the barrel of the gun against Mark's back. “How many of you are currently here?”

“Right now, 14.”

“Who isn't here?” Changbin speaks up.

“WayV. Currently in China.”

“Where is she?”

Mark feigns innocence. “Who's she?”

Han shoves Mark with his gun. “Don't play dumb, we know you have her. Where is she?”

“She's in the basement.”

“Take us to her. Make sure we avoid anyone else. And don't think about yelling for help or I'll shoot you where you stand.” Han sneers.

Mark nods, his hands raised. He makes his way towards the back door of the shop, taking them into a hallway. Mark stops at a locked door. “She's down there.”

“Unlock it.” Han gestures to the lock. Mark unlocks the door and follows the stairs down. Once they make it to the bottom, the boys gasp.

“Holy shit.” Eric breathes out.

The six boys see you chained up to the wall, hanging by your wrists, your head down. Dried blood plastered your arms and your thighs. You looked like you've been through hell and back.

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Chan approaches you.

You jolt awake hearing footsteps. Your body starts to tremble, thinking Haechan and Jaemin have come back to continue their torture. You shake your head and put your hands up.

“N-No, please don't come closer! I-I'll be good, I promise! Just please don't hurt me anymore!” You speak with a hoarse voice, tears in your eyes, as you shrink away from him.

3racha's hearts break, hearing you sound so broken. Chan approaches you slowly, speaking quietly as not to startle you. “Y/N, hey, it's Chan. Look at me.”

Your head raises slowly. Chan gasps when he sees your face. Your cheek was cut, your lip busted and your eye bruised from what looks like a punch to the face. Your eyes widen slowly.

“C-Chan?” You look behind him to see the rest of the party of boys. “H-Han? C-Changbin?” Relief floods over your body, causing tears to flow down your cheeks. “Y-You came for me.”

“Of course we did.” Changbin's expression softens. “Mark, give me the fucking keys to the cuffs.” Changbin holds out his hand.

“I don't have them.”

Kevin kicks Mark in the side, Mark groaning in pain. “You're full of shit. I know you have a copy. Give him the fucking keys.”

Mark growls and reaches slowly into his pocket to produce the keys. He hands them to Changbin who rushes over to you, unlocking the cuffs. Your legs immediately give out and your body collapses into Chan's arms, who slowly lowers you to the ground. He holds you close as you cling to him, sobs escaping your lips. Chan strokes your hair in a calming manner.

“W-Where's Minho?” You squeak out quietly.

Han makes sure E-3 watches Mark and comes over to you, kneeling down next to you. “He's coming, boss. He's really worried about you.” He grabs your hand, his thumb rubbing the back to sooth you.

Changbin's phone beings to ring and he immediately answers it, hearing Lee Know on the other end.

“Did you find her?” Changbin can hear the wind from the other end as Lee Know drives his bike.

“Yeah, she's in bad shape. But she's still alive and safe now.”

Lee Know curses under his breath. “Give her the phone.”

Changbin squats next to you, a gentle tap on your shoulder. “Hey, Y/N. Lee Know wants to talk to you.”

You nod earnestly, reaching for the phone with trembling hands. Your voice comes out in a squeak. “M-Minnie?”

“Baby,” Lee Know lets out a shaky breath, relieved he knows you're still alive. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Chan, Changbin and Han are here.” You bite your lip, trying to spare your eyes more tears. “When will you be here?”

“5 minutes, baby. Just try to stay strong for me, okay?”

“O-Okay.” You breathe out. “And Minnie? I-I'm sorry for not believing you.”

“Hey, it's okay. Let's leave that for another time. I will be there soon, okay? I love you.”

You repeat the words back, hanging up and handing the phone back to Changbin. You do your best to rest in Chan's arms until Lee Know arrives, but something clicks inside you. You suddenly try to sit up, startling Chan and Han.

“Hey, Y/N, you need to relax. Your body went through something traumatic-”

“Felix,” you cut Han off, confusing him. You continue. “Y-You need to call Felix. Chenle planted a bomb near the hideout. Once they find you here, they'll set it off. You need to call Felix and tell him to evacuate anyone within a two mile radius of the hideout.”

All six boys perk up at this information. Mark growls, a scowl pointed in your direction. “Why you little bit-”

Kevin kicks Mark again. “Shut up! You have no right to open your mouth again.”

“Fuck, we need all the help we can get.” Changbin dials Felix while Jacob dials Younghoon. Once connected, Changbin turns away to tell Felix the news.

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

You hear a loud voice and some banging going on at the top of the stairs to the basement. It startles you, your body trembling. You hear another loud bang and then crash and then the door to the basement opening.

A figure tumbles down the stairs and hits the basement floor, groaning in pain. On closer inspection, it turns out to be Doyoung, knocked unconscious. Footsteps proceed down the steps, Chan shielding you for whomever it is. You peek over Chan's shoulder to see who it is and instantly a wave of emotions floods your mind.

Lee Know looks around the basement, desperately looking for you. Once he sees you, he sighs with relief. You scramble out of Chan's hold and throw yourself at Lee Know. Instantly, his arms enclose you, bringing you to his body. He falls to the floor with you in his arms, his nose buried in your hair and your face buried into his chest. He feels your body shaking violently and sobs escaping your lips once again.

“Shh, baby. It's okay. I'm here now.” He notices your arms are covered in blood, fresh wounds on both of your shoulders. He curses under his breath, his anger growing more and more at the state you were currently in. “I'm not going to let them touch you again. Not on my life.”

“I-I'm so s-sorry. I...I-I didn't b-believe you-”

“Shh, it's okay. I'm not mad. I promise.” He strokes your hair and turns his attention to the boys. “What's the current situation?”

“Well we found Y/N chained to the wall with multiple injuries. We know there are 14 of the 21 members still around here somewhere, according to Mark. We are unaware of the precise whereabouts of those members minus Mark,” Changbin gestures to the unconscious form on the floor. “And now Doyoung. Also-” Changbin hesitates.

“Also what? Spit it out.” Lee Know's impatiently urges.

“According to Y/N, Chenle has planted a bomb somewhere in our hideout. I called Felix and currently have him, Seungmin and I.N evacuating the residents within a 2 mile radius.”

“I called Younghoon as well. Him, Juhaknyeon, and Sunwoo are on their way to help as well.”

“Shit,” Lee Know runs a hand through his hair.

“Where's Hyunjin?”

“I sent him to run a little errand for me, along with Hwall and Q.”

“Where are the rest of The Boyz?” Jacob asks, pulling an unconscious Doyoung next to Mark, who scowls.

“They're outside, a few blocks away in case we need them,” Lee Know places a kiss on your forehead. “For now, we need to get out of here before the rest of these idiots figure out we're down here. I'm sure they heard me yelling.” Lee Know pushes himself up, bringing you with him. “Come on, baby. I know it hurts but we need to get you out of here.”

You groan in pain but manage to stand up. Changbin rushes over to help, grabbing your other arm to steady you. Lee Know nods to Eric. “Eric, could you and Kevin go up before us to make sure no one is waiting up there? I won't be able to fight with Y/N like this. Chan, Han and Jacob, you three tie up these two idiots. I don't need them interfering anymore.”

Everyone nods in understanding and jump into action. Eric and Kevin pull their weapons and slowly make their way to the top of the stairs. Once they give the all clear, Lee Know and Changbin carry you up the stairs as quick but gentle as they can. You all rush down the hall, to the storefront that camouflaged the hideout. You whimper in pain, your shoulders burning from the strain.

Lee Know tries to calm you. “We're almost there, baby. Just a few more steps.”

That's the moment you hear the click of a gun, making the three of you freeze.

“You aren't going anywhere.”

[pocminiseries]

At Midnight

➵❤︎ Pairing: Jackson Wang x OC ➵❤︎ Warnings: Mature, Adult Content, Explicit Language, Gang Relations, etc ➵❤︎Genre: Romance, Fanfiction, Smut, Interracial, Urban, Non-Kpop Related. ➵❤︎Synopsis: We always seek the forbidden things we know aren't good for us but to deny what your heart truly deserves is the real tragedy. And for Imani, her savior came in the form of someone who was tainted, a man with a past who did violent acts simply for the joy of it. To be unfaithful was a sin but how could one stay away from what they truly desired, regardless of the consequences?

"11:11-Listen"

____

"...Imani? Did you hear me?"

Tearing her gaze from the passing buildings, Imani turned her focus to the man beside her, a cloud of sadness shadowing her eyes. "Yes, Jayden, I heard you." She answered, giving him a small smile.

"Is everything ok baby? You've been quiet since this morning," The concern in his voice almost made her believe he truly cared. She began to question if he ever did.

"Yeah, I'm good, just a little tired," Imani lied smoothly. Trying her best to put on the fakest performance she could. This was the last place she wanted to be - anywhere near him. She could barely look him in the eyes anymore.

She had to fight the urge to not snatch her hand away when he reached for it, placing a kiss on the back of it. "You look beautiful tonight," He softly cooed, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles as his eyes admired her frame in the sexy but classy number she chose to wear for tonight's event.

"Thank you," She whispered back just when their limo pulled in front of the venue. Both a sense of relief and dread washed over her at once simply because she didn't know how she was going to get through this night, especially with how she's been feeling.

Once Jayden had stepped out, Imani took a deep breath in an attempt to get her emotions in check. She rathered be somewhere in her bed, crying out her frustrations, not here plastering a fake smile across her face as she displayed false happiness in front of people she could really give a fuck less about. Not to mention on the arm of a man she could no longer stand to be around.

They were barely inside of the ballroom for ten minutes when that familiar warm floral scent filled her nose. "Mr. Reyes." A soft voice greeted in that same seductive tone she always used whenever she was around him. Imani glanced up at Jayden seeing him smile brightly as anger began to run through her veins.

She was just a good friend he told her, that they've been close since their middle school days - and since trust was key in any relationship, Imani blindly believed him, no questions asked.

However, Imani always caught the way he looked at her. The sparkle in his eyes whenever she was around and the neverending smile that graced his face when she spoke, which he was proudly showcasing now.

"Faithe, it's good to see you," He beamed, letting go of Imani to pull Faithe in for a hug, leaving Imani standing there awkwardly to look at an embrace she knew was more than just a friendly greeting.

As if she had just noticed Imani standing there, Faithe finally acknowledged her once she pulled away from Jayden. "Oh, Imani...that dress on you is everything," Faithe complimented her, showing off that perfect smile of hers.

It was the fact that she could stand there and smile in front of Imani's face after what she's done was crazy. Imani wanted nothing more than to knock this bitches teeth crooked. "You look great too, Faithe,"

Sporting a red bodycon dress that showed a little cleavage, Faithe looked good, it was something Imani couldn't deny her and neither could the man she called her fiancé either. His eyes have been looking her up and down like she was a piece of steak.

"Thank you," Faithe nodded before turning her attention back to Jayden. "There are some people here who want to meet you to discuss the Bellmore project. You mind meeting them?"

With no hesitation, Jayden wrapped an arm around her small waist as if Imani wasn't standing right there. "Lead the way," He replies, his eyes had been fixated on her the moment she showed up and Imani wondered if he had forgotten she even existed.

"Imani, you don't mind if I steal him away do you?" Faithe questioned, causing Jayden to finally snap from his daze and look towards Imani.

Shifting her eyes between them, the level of hurt and betrayal she felt as they stood there in front of her...was too much. The images of them lying naked while wrapped up the sheets, sound asleep in a bed that she has shared with Jayden for three years hit her hard. "Go ahead, I'll be fine," Imani nodded, forcing that fake smile back on to her face.

Watching them walk away, Imani wanted to break down and just fall to her knees. Instead, she grabbed a glass filled with champagne and headed straight outside. She needed fresh air and a place to cool herself down before she truly lost it.

Stepping out into the cool night, Imani walked towards the balcony that was only occupied by a few others. Taking a sip from her glass, she looked over the massive backyard, taking in the lush green grass and angel water fountain that sat directly in the middle. She tried to force her thoughts elsewhere but she couldn't.

All the signs were there from the beginning.

The receipts she would find in the pockets of his pants when she washed his clothes. Hotel and restaurant visit that she was never invited to or knew about because maybe...just maybe he forgot to mention it.

But Imani wasn't naive, her gut has never failed her.

When she had become suspicious of his ways, she started to dig. He always handled the bills, paying everything because in his words, 'A man is supposed to take care of the woman he loves'. So she called the bank, requesting them to email her a copy of their statements, and what she found clarified her worries.

The five-day business trip he had informed her about wasn't to New York like he had said but Greece instead, Imani has never been to Greece. And the gorgeous diamond necklace he had purchased that she had come across in the bottom of his draw wasn't a gift he for her but instead for the beautiful woman on his arm who was currently wearing it around her neck.

A part of Imani had given him the benefit of doubt and thought that maybe it was a gift he had given to her out of friendship but once more, Imani knew better.

It was all for Faithe.

Being the good woman Imani was, she chose to stay in hopes that he would see what he already had in front of him but she realized that she didn't even hold a candle to her. Especially when she was everything he has always wanted.

Even if she wanted to leave, she knew that Jayden would simply call her parents and anyone else he could, make up some bullshit lie that they'd believe and drag her ass back to him once they gave her a good talking to.

They were so brainwashed when it came to him...everyone was.

Imani wanted to scream at the top of her lungs from her frustrations. She deserved so much better.

She wondered why she was even feeling hurt, their relationship wasn't something based off of love to begin with. An engagement that was somewhat forced upon them by their meddling parents. And while he was out being unfaithful, she was left to suffer in silence.

Although Imani was a strong woman who had endured a lot, there was only so much she could take.

Too many emotions hit her at once as she stood there staring at them from the balcony. She wanted so badly to run across the room and beat both their asses at that moment but she refrained. They would get theirs, she would make sure of it.

"You're too pretty to be crying,"

Imani tore her gaze away from the happy couple inside, to the person standing not too far from her. His sweet, benevolence tone catching her attention immediately. It was the type of voice that soothed her aching heart just a bit from those few words alone.

And as she stood there openly staring at him, her fingers had never itched so badly to touch a face quite like his before.

Her mind felt as though she was imagining things. She was witnessing an angel that had to be sent from up above and no one could tell her any differently.

"Am I?" She sniffled, seeing no reason in hiding her pain.

The handsome stranger gave her a sad look, reaching his hand to wipe away the fallen tears from her face. "He's a fool," He commented, observing her confused face until he softly grabbed her hand where a shiny engagement ring adorned her finger.

Imani glanced at the ring that was supposed to bring pure happiness whenever she looked at it, now though, she wanted to toss it into the depths of the nearest ocean because of the anger it now ignited inside of her.

Blinking back her tears, she tried to hide behind her hair only to have him softly grip her chin and turn her to face him once more. Those dark brown eyes seemed to look through her, searching deeply into her own. Imani wondered if he could hear how rapidly her heart was beating inside of her chest. His touch causing goosebumps to break out on her warm skin.

"I can fix it..." He states as his thumb lightly brushes across her plump bottom lip. His words holding a double meaning, one much more of a sinister than she realized.

"Fix what?" She asked confused. This isn't where she should be, much less allowing a man she didn't know to touch her like this. But there was just something so alluring about this man that pulled her in.

"What he has broken inside of you," Whoever hurt her had messed up...badly. Allowing Imani to freely walk into the madness of Leo Rén was a mistake.

Imani looked over him curiously, not knowing how to take in his offer. She wanted to slap herself for even considering it. She didn't even know his name for fucking sake. If he was any other man speaking to her like this she would've been walked away. Maybe it was the way he looked at her or the way his words caused her to fall deeper into his trap.

Infidelity wasn't something Imani wanted to participate in, unlike her fiancé. No matter how physically pleasing this man was, she refused to allow herself to become a cheater. It wasn't in her character to do so, even if she had the right to.

"I can't..." She denied, taking a step back. "I don't even know you,"

He smirked at that, understanding her hesitance. "Leo," He introduced himself, holding out his hand for her to shake.

"Imani." She whispered, sliding her hand into his, ignoring the tingles she felt when they touched. Fearing that if she acknowledged it, she'd have to admit she didn't want their mild contact to end. His face, to the sound of his voice and the way those dark eyes stared back into her own almost had her weak in the knees.

For the first time in forever, Imani was entranced by someone. A stranger that she truly felt was not entirely real. Maybe her imagination was playing a cruel trick on her. Could no one else see this perfect specimen but her?

"Stop..." She suddenly mumbles, slipping her hand from his to rub down her shoulders as the wind blew around them.

Tilting his head to the side, he gave her a knowing grin. "Stop what?" Imani seemed to lick her lips at the husky tone of his voice. It affected her more than she would like to admit.

"Looking at me like that," She answered, shivering from the dropping temperatures or maybe something else...she wasn't quite sure herself.

Leo looked away briefly, laughing softly through his nose before focusing on her once more. "If you knew what I see when I look at you, you'd understand my reasoning,"

His words tugged at something deep within her chest, sparking a new wave of emotions she didn't know how to handle. This wasn't what she needed right now, not in her vulnerable state. Her mind wasn't thinking clearly. To even think of him in the manner that she was shouldn't be considered but lord knows how badly she just wanted to know what his arms would feel like wrapped around her body. To lose herself in his warm embrace and bask in that masculine scent of his.

Imani even wondered what his lips would feel like against her skin...and in other places as well.

Quickly shaking her head, she turned her attention towards the backyard. "Tell me something Leo, do you know what it's like to be betrayed by someone you love?" She asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"More than anyone," He replied, placing his hands inside of his pockets.

Imani nodded, holding up her hand to look at the diamond ring that adorned her finger. "She's pregnant with his child, you know?" She began to laugh bitterly as she squeezed her hand into a fist. "They think I don't know about them but I have for a while now." Biting into her bottom lip, she tried to blink away her watery eyes, hating that she was still crying over them.

Leo remained silent as his eyes looked at the beauty in front of him, wanting to reach out and pull her close and cross a line he knew he shouldn't. Someone like him didn't deserve to touch someone so precious, not with the things he has done, or because of who he was.

Turning to face him completely, Imani took a step towards him under his curious gaze. "I don't believe in being unfaithful...it's bad karma but..." She paused and looked towards the marble floor for a few seconds. "What's a sin to the brokenhearted?" If Jayden could do his dirt, then why couldn't she do the same in return.

"Tell me what you want Imani," He gently says, placing the ball in her court. Whatever happens between them will solely be up to her.

Biting her lip, she went to reach out for him only to pause, hearing someone call her name. "Imani? Have you seen Jayden? A few people are asking for him," Looking towards the voice, Imani spotted one of Jayden's business partners and good friend, Marcus, walking towards her direction.

Dropping her hand, Imani lightly smiled, pretending as if she wasn't about to commit the ultimate sin. "No, I haven't. Wasn't he with Faithe?" She asked him, catching the look Marcus had sent in Leo's direction.

"I believe so but I can't seem to find either one," He answered, his eyes going back and forth between her and Leo.

"I see. I'll go find him for you then," She informed him, taking a step to leave only to feel a warm hand grab hers. Those familiar tingles shot up her arm from his touch as she turned to face Leo. Imani could feel her heart thump wildly once their eyes met before he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against her ear.

"When you need me, come find me," He whispered, pulling away to give her a final look.

Imani swallowed, forcing herself to step away and hastily walk Marcus who she had temporarily forgotten was there, barely sparing him a glance. It wasn't until she made it inside that she felt something in her hand. Lifting the card, she read his Leo's name written in cursive gold across the matte black design, his contact info at the bottom.

The small smile that formed on her face was quickly removed when she realized the mistake she had made. What the hell was she thinking? In a moment of weakness, she was willing to do something she knew better of and with a man she barely knew at that. Gripping the card tightly in her hand, Imani headed towards the first floor, searching for Jayden.

There was a funny feeling in her gut that something was up. Faithe was missing and so was he. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what that meant. Still, she continued to search until she wandered down a hall when she had heard it. A soft giggle coming from somewhere in the seemingly vacant area. Slowly, Imani moved forward until she reached a corner, pausing to peak around it just as Faithe leaned up to kiss her fiancé in a manner that was nothing short of passionate.

Imani wanted so badly to do something, to say something but instead, she turned on her heels and headed straight for the entrance. She didn't want to be there any longer, not when she ready to tear shit up out of frustration.

Finding the limo that they had arrived in, Imani informed the driver that it would only be her and to take her home. Clearly, Jayden could find another way home.

Sitting in the backseat, Imani eyed the ring on her finger through blurry vision. It wasn't fair. She had done everything right or as best she could. Catering to him. Loving him. Taking care of him and still, he does her like this.

Angrily wiping away her tears, she began to think of a way out. Away from Jayden, Away from her strict parents and the only life she has ever known.