#the WAIST deco??

[ghostshipglamour]

Not immune to propaganda as in « yeah i’m against the military but if this was the uniform i’d go to sea tomorrow »

Royal Naval uniform: pattern 1843-56, lieutenant rank

From the Royal Museums Greenwich site here

[fauvester]

OK I GOT MYSELF EXCITED.... ANDORIAN LATE 1860S

[mejaemin]

timeless - lee donghyuck

wc: 1.6k

summary: visiting a photobooth, yours and caramel!hyuck’s love is evident, and with your pair of photo strips it’s now timeless <3

warnings: not proofread, sexual jokes, so much fluff, don’t read this if you’re single !!! it’s so cute and so romantic it will make you feel lonely !!! (i say while being single)

an: umm i may or may not have written this in one hour… i was completely stuck and decided to write a sentence, see what happens, and then all of a sudden i finished it 😨 i hope you all enjoy !!! i actually love this sm (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) tysm to my love @cigsaftersuh for requesting !!! enjoy ♡

(caramel masterlist here!! ʕ ᵔⰙᵔ⠕ʔ)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

you’re making your way to the end of the amusement park, everyone in your group feeling very out of it. since at least two rides ago, your child, technically your boyfriend, had been dragging his feet. all of hyuck’s friends were getting tired too, you could see it in the way their eyes drooped and they lazily chewed at the cotton candy and other snacks in their hands.

it truly was a fun day, heading out at around noon to go to an amusement park all day with hyuck and his friends. it was something that you were truthfully dreading, being that you never really liked them that much, but the way his face lit up at the idea of attending was something you could never say no to. and truthfully, after a while they weren’t so bad. maybe their frontal lobes have all developed and are finally becoming men with humor that isn’t backed by jokes about farts and genitalia.

anyway, you’re getting closer to the entrance when donghyuck finally stops using you as a human crutch, grabbing your attention before pointing toward something in the distance. following the direction of his finger, you spot a photobooth in the distance and you’re immediately making your way towards it. he takes a large sip of whatever heavily sugared drink he bought earlier in the day, using it to wake up before telling the group where you’re running off to.

“we’re going to the photobooth, so don’t leave us while we’re in there.” he says, stretching and shaking away his fatigue.

immediately, jaemin’s looking at the metal box and its red curtain, smirking. “yeah, we’ll be waiting. don’t do anything other than take photos though..”

hyuck was fully ready to start fighting back, already forming an explanation as to why exhibitionism is perfectly fine but jaemin’s obnoxious cackles overpowered any and all of his rebuttals. accepting the slap on his shoulder, he huffs, making his way over to you.

you’re waiting patiently outside the booth, some other group already in there. he stands beside you, snaking an arm around your waist as you lean against the wall of it. truthfully, hyuck didn’t even have any sort of affinity towards them, but knowing you do he was more than happy to help you take any opportunity to visit them. he’s even bought you one of those cute binders for all your photo strips, pairing the gift with deco stickers for you to cover it in. of course, he got two to keep him and your friends separate as well.

“did you have fun?” you ask, pulling him out of his still sleepy daze.

he turns to you, smiling softly. “of course. best day ever.” he leans in, giving you a kiss to your cheek. “you didn’t have to say yes though, ‘cause i could tell you were hesitating when i asked.”

you flush, despite knowing he always sees through you. “yeah.. but now that we actually did it, i’m really enjoying myself. your friends aren’t that annoying anymore, too.”

he chuckles, sucking air in through his teeth. “of course. you showed me the way, so i enlightened them too.”

you hum, taking his arm in yours, resting your head on his shoulder. the sun is a perfect orange-purple, and the lights adorning all the attractions have flickered on a while ago. it’s truly picture worthy, but you’re more tired than you’d like to admit and choose to stay in the moment. you can see the group sitting at a picnic table, jisung’s flash accidentally turning on as he and the others try snapping photos of you two, and they giggle softly. you turn to point it out to hyuck but the other group is leaving.

he’s already dragging you in, sliding into the cramped booth before pulling you into his lap. before you can even make an attempt at paying for the photo strips he’s pulling his wallet from your bag (yes yours, why get something to carry his stuff when he buys you enough for the both of you?) and making the payment.

“how many?” he asks, gesturing to the screen in front of you. his arms slide around your waist, his hands resting over your stomach. the way his thumbs glide against your stomach make you feel a little dazed as you try reading the options, but eventually you pick the option with two strips.

“two copies. one for me, one for you.” you say simply, reaching out to click your option.

the countdown immediately starts, and you’re both full of giggles as you hurriedly try to decide your first pose. he’s throwing plenty out like spitfire, and through your fit of laughter you’re denying every one. ‘no, i’m not doing a nerd pose!’ or ‘nooo, something cuter!’ coming from you as he tickles you in attempt to stop your protests. eventually, the ten second countdown comes to an end, and the first photo snaps to capture a photo of you both giggling.

“aw, hyuckie, come on! i wasn’t even ready!” you complain, playfully swatting at his shoulder.

“oops. sorry mama, but come on. you’ll look hot regardless of how ready you were.” he dramatically looks you up and down, and you roll your eyes at his over the top flirting.

glancing at the screen, there’s eight seconds left, and you take his face in your palms. “let’s do an actually good one now.” there’s a speaker beeping signalling the last three seconds, and that’s when you lean in, giving hyuck a sweet, slow kiss.

even after the shutter sounds, he’s bringing you closer, pulling away to give you two, three more before he finally pulls away.

you sigh, recollecting yourself. “last one.. let’s be tame this time, okay?”

he nods obediently, ready to listen to you now that his need for your kisses has been fulfilled. you lean in, smushing your cheek against his with the cutest pout, and he mimics it immediately. with your hand brought up to his, you make a heart together, of course not without bending your pointer finger to make it a cat. the camera flashes one last time, and once the large pink bubble letters say you’re done, you excitedly get out of the booth to receive the printed strips.

waiting for them to fall out of the opening, you’re nearly bouncing on your feet. hyuck’s got your bag and he pulls his phone out, sneakily taking a few photos of you in your excitement before pocketing it for later. you’re just too beautiful for him to not capture it forever, your eyes glimmering with the multicolored lights all around you. once the photo strips are printed you pull them out, and you squeal, your smile growing impossibly bigger.

the first photo, of you giggling, is so perfect. you were apprehensive at first, afraid it was gonna catch your worst angle being that it was unexpected but it couldn’t have been better. your eyes are shut, smile big with pure joy. hyuck is looking up at you, his eyes glimmering with so much love. you didn’t notice it in there, but now that you’re looking at the photo your entire body heats at the way he’s looking at you like you’re the entire world.

the second one, you kissing, is adorable. you can’t wait to post it, knowing all your friends will be swooning over your relationship and you’ll be getting so many compliments about it. your hair is covering your face, the majority of it capturing the back of your head, but donghyuck is in almost full view. his eyes are shut, and his hand is making its way to the back of your head. the picture is radiating with love, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ll be showing it to your kids one day, and maybe even theirs.

the final one of you in your heart pose is the cherry on top, not outwardly romantic, balancing the other two out perfectly. you two look adorable in your little world together. your hand is on his cheek, pulling him into you, and both your lips are puffing up into a pout with how your faces smush together. it’s so you, and you know everyone will be able to tell you picked the pose out with the kitty heart.

there’s a pink, heart patterned frame around the photos, and at the bottom there’s the name of the park and a date. it blends the three photos together perfectly, and you’re thankful there’s no face warping photo. there’s a little bit of an orangey, hazy coloring over them, but it makes it all the better, giving it an old-timey romance vibe. hyuck’s skin is the right shade in all of them too, his tan being safe from any whitewashing technology.

“damn, can i see them yet?” he complains, coming forward and taking one of the two from you.

you look up at him expectantly, watching his reaction as his eyes trail down the strip. his cheeks flush, and he’s smiling lovingly at them. saying nothing, he looks to you and pulls you in for the sweetest hug, leaving a kiss at the top of your forehead.

as you make your way back to the group, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “i actually really love this. like, i’m gonna get it tattooed right here.” he turns to you, already laughing at himself as his free hand makes a line across his forehead.

you giggle, leaning into him. “you’re so stupid! don’t do it, the photo is permanent enough.”

“true, true,” he says, laughing as you make your way to his friends, showing the photo strip. they’re all groaning, complimenting you two and your cuteness, all while complaining about their loneliness.

looking back down at his copy, his smile is soft. he’s the luckiest man in the world, having you, and he’ll be sure to never lose the strip as a way to remember and keep you forever.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

get off the floor, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You order Jeon Jungkook to get off the floor. He says, "Make me." You make him. Eventually.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; tipsy, bratty (needy) JK; wedding guests reader and JK hooking up in a random corner room bc they can no longer contain themselves, gasp; semi-public smut (fem dom!reader + sub!JK, JK becomes half-undressed while reader is still fully dressed, slight degrading talk (not really), heavy making out, dry humping) basically, I was staring at this photo and had thoughts

--

“Get off the floor.”

“Make me.”

Once again. No stranger to this supreme annoyance, and yet knowing that did not make it bearable. You looked down at him. Was he drunk? He stared off to the side. Looked moodier than anything. Trying to play it cool, perhaps. You caught him glancing and you stepped back, smoothing the high slit of your deep purple evening gown.

“That suit costs way too much to be on the ground,” you attempted again, his black blazer over your bare shoulders.

Jeon Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t care.”

You could feel your patience running thin. Not new, just like all of Jungkook’s antics. You felt his eyes travel up from your legs to your waist to your chest. When he got to your face, you gave him an unimpressed frown. If he hadn’t been drinking, he would have the good sense to look away. But he had, so he just ticked his head as if he wasn’t laying down in the middle of a random offshoot room in a very nice hotel. There was no one around. Time of night and because this wing had been rented for the wedding that was still going on in the main ballroom.

“You’re going to get in trouble,” you warned.

His dark eyes caught the low lights of the art deco sconces on the walls.

“Get on top of me.”

This was precisely why you had considered skipping this wedding. But, alas, common sense pulled through. You had not come with a plus one because you didn’t have one. Jungkook had not arrived with a plus one either even though you were quite sure he could have secured one. He was probably thinking the same of you as well. The look on his face when you strode in and greeted the couple was enough to encourage some of the guests to mysteriously begin herding you and him in close proximity. You couldn’t blame them. Playing matchmaker was bound to happen if a woman attended such a social event alone.

You just didn’t think the lucky man would be Jeon Jungkook.

You narrowed your eyes. His eyes lowered to half-moons. His lips parting. The two silver rings gleamed on the right edge of his lower lip.

“Don’t play this game.”

The tip of his pink tongue flitted against his lip rings.

“I’ve been wanting to play your game for a while now,” Jungkook breathed, his low voice vibrating in his chest.

You could still hear the bass of the music. One step. The heel of your pumps clicked loudly against the tile floor. His black three-piece suit had been perfectly tailored to him. There was no need for additional shape because his body lines were already ideal. His black hair had been carefully slicked back. Nothing to hide behind. Another step. His black vest and crisp white shirt were tight enough to his chest that you could witness the way his breath hitch lifted his upper torso. You looked down, then pointedly back up at his face, reminding him that his tight slacks made everything obvious.

He bit the side of his lip.

With a casual lift of your slinky skirt, you stepped over him, and then re-draped the dark violet fabric over his lower torso. One foot on each side of his hips. He must have expected you to refuse, as you already had many times before. He immediately froze, his startled eyes widening. In your defense, he had previously been more subtle and annoying about it rather than direct. You reached up, maintaining eye contact with Jungkook, and twisted your wrist, hooking two fingers on the collar of his blazer around your shoulders, pulling it away from your body to reveal skin.

You dropped it on the floor, away from your bodies.

The fitted gown had a soft sweetheart neckline with thin straps that framed your collarbones. A simple white gold chain necklace with a tiny round-cut diamond nestled at the base of your neck. The straps crossed over to your exposed lower back. The medium-weight fabric was tailored to skim over your curves. Princess seams accentuated your shape from chest to hips before opening up to wispy high slits that were only obvious when you walked or stood with more weight to one side. Demure if you stood straight, which you mostly did. Wasn’t your wedding after all. Your hair was down, smoothed down at the right, covering enough of your back to uphold the illusion of modesty. Unfortunately, as night approached, you had found yourself quite cold. The air conditioning had been turned high to accommodate for all the dancing bodies.

That wasn’t the trajectory of the night for you, though.

Instead of the dance floor, you and Jeon Jungkook were now somehow in deserted offshoot room with chairs on tables. Probably reserved for additional seating just in case any additional guests tried to squeeze in at the last minute. Certainly not reserved for a raunchy rendezvous.

You lifted an eyebrow.

“Scared?” you taunted, looking down at him.

His wrists were against the floor by his shoulders. You saw his fingers twitch, but he did nothing to move further.

“Ravage me already,” Jungkook exhaled. Hot and heavy and hiding desperation. “I can’t take this.”

You had been well-acquainted with him for a while now. You ran the tip of your pointed heel against his side. Jungkook shuddered. He didn’t move to touch you. You backed off. The real problem with all this was not the friendly terms you both had, but rather the fact that he had caught you in a rather dubious place some nights ago. Neither you nor him should have been there. In fact, you made it a point to travel far enough so you wouldn’t run into anyone, which you presumed was also the exact reason Jungkook ended up in the same place.

You squatted down, tilting your head at him in a predatory way.

The skirt of your dress pooled over his abdomen.

As you came close to Jungkook’s level, you heard his breathing shallow.

You took a short moment to collect your dress accordingly before dropping to one knee. And then the other. Straddling him, but not quite touching. Your fingertips touched the ground. He smelled like faint musky spice. You lowered over him, until your hands were just under his upper arms.

Looked down.

Jungkook stared at you from below, trapped in your shadow.

“You really did see me at the BDSM club that night,” you murmured. “Didn’t you?”

You raised your right hand and closed it around his left wrist, pinning it to the ground. He sucked in a tight breath, the gravity of the situation seemingly sinking in although it didn’t seem like he was rushing to stop you.

“Your ass looked so fucking good,” he whispered in the dark. “I knew it was you.”

You bent your left elbow, descending to his face.

“Someone will find us.”

At your reminder, he bit his lower lip in that fuck-me-harder kind of way. Then you felt movement. His right hand snaked between you and him. Your eyes flickered down. His dress shirt was fastened all the way to his neck. He looked sharp. Conventionally handsome. The only things he couldn’t hide was his facial piercings and the tattoos on his hand. Hand tattoos were a big faux pas to most. You liked a rule-breaker though. Unfortunately. Jungkook’s deft fingers traced the pressed collar of his shirt.

You watched him undo the first pearlescent button.

Then the second.

Your lips parted to warn him to stop, but the third was already coming undone and you could hear the desire in his erratic breath drifting upwards. Then it was eyes-to-eyes, devouring you with false innocence, and you opened your mouth to trace your lips with the tip of your tongue, taunting him with the glistening void.

“Fuck…” he whispered, trembling under you.

And then you stopped his hand by fully pressing your body against his chest, your clothed breasts against his naked pecs. Flitted your tongue over his lip rings, tasting his moan before hearing it. He turned his head, trying to chase it, but you feathered kisses over his cheek, gripping his left wrist as you licked his ear, hearing the whine of your name tickling yours.

“P-Please…”

You avoided him that night at that club, hoping he hadn’t recognized you, causing every subsequent interaction making it painfully clear to you that he had indeed seen you strutting your stuff in black latex while teasing strangers with your leather crop. Surprisingly, not in the way of trying to use such information against you, which was what you expected, but rather in the way the tempted drive the tempters insane. In imploring looks that only you could know. In too many chances of being too close in proximity. You don’t know how he did it, but now for some reason everyone was delicately suggesting to you to, perhaps, give him a chance. It only strengthened your want to teach him a lesson. You savored the rising panic in his voice as you bit the curve of his ear and toyed with him with your tongue. His trapped hand turned and you felt his palm mold to your lower ribs, sliding up. You bit down. He gasped, biting back a moan as his fingertips ghosted the curve of your breasts.

“Ah…. D-Don’t…” Whimper so close to his heart that only you could hear it. “My e-ear is… is sensitive, a-ah…”

You smiled, pressing your lips to his earlobe. His earrings were warming from your breath and saliva.

“Is that why you have so many piercings, huh?”

You made sure he could feel your lips move as you purred filthy nothings.

“What a pain slut you are.”

This time he truly moaned, his hips rising, and then abruptly cut himself off to avoid rising volume.

“D-Don’t…”

You sank down. Pressed against him, and even though the layers you could feel his erection throb, his entire body shivering when your weight dispersed over his lower body. His fingertips traced the dip in between your breasts. Your tongue circled over his ear once more before kissing up to his temple, the fingers of your other hand creeping up the side of his neck, and then you made out with Jeon Jungkook, right there on the floor with his groan vibrating the inside of your throat as you slowly thrusted your tongue into his lips. He did his best to suck and you always pulled away at the last second, using one finger to trace the muscle of his neck down to his collarbones.

You broke the kiss.

His lips were glossy and flushed.

“Please… Don’t stop,” he begged, squeezing your breast. “Don’t stop…”

The inaudible music continued to hum in the background.

You placed two fingers on his chin and pushed his head back, giving you access to his throat. For a brief moment, you considered making your mark, but instead you trailed your tongue down, down, painting possessive saliva onto his warm skin. His body rose. You let go of his wrist to pull open the sides of his shirt, realizing he was undoing his vest at the same time as his chest became fully exposed to the air, his dark nipples hard. You flicked your tongue against them, an involuntary ripple seizing his torso at the heated contact. Licked all over, enjoying the scent and taste of his skin. He silenced a cry as you bit down.

“H-Harder…”

You rose slightly, grazing your tongue against his skin before doing so.

“Be quiet.”

And then you roughly pinched his other nipple.

His arm flew up and he screamed behind clenched jaw, his hips lifting from the floor and his erection colliding with the inside of your thigh. You let out a light hum, sliding up his hard thighs. Your dress was already bunching around your waist. With a sweep of your skirt, your barely-there panties came into view. His attentive eyes immediately went down to the matching skin-toned thong barely covering your pussy, tricking him for just a moment, and then you saw the disappointment flutter into a slight frown.

“Did you expect me to be naked?” you mused.

He tried to cover himself with indifference. “No.” His needy gaze and raging boner gave him away.

You smiled.

And held the front of your skirt out of the way, rocking your hips forward to rub your panties against his clothed cock. Jungkook gasped, staring back at your relaxed expression with wide eyes, unsure where to look. You put a little more force into it, increasing the friction and molding his hardness to the soft dip between your legs, and you saw his eyelids flutter, his dark eyes rolling back, a contained moan escaping his chest.

You talked down to him, because you could tell he liked it.

“You thought I wouldn’t have panties and I would just ride you in a public place with no remorse or shame?”

Tension began to show through his muscles. He had one arm on his forehead and the other against the black-and-white tile floor, using subtle leverage to grind against you. He wasn’t obstructing his vision though, still very obviously staring at your thighs, the dip towards your pussy, watching the hem of your panties press into your skin with each movement.

“I… oh, fuck, I don’t k-know…” He panted, his shadowed eyes roaming back to your face. “Maybe.”

You laid your free hand on the waistband of his slacks, tracing his belt. You watched him hold his breath, his chest tight and oh-so-delectable. Slowly, you hooked your fingers under his belt. Gripped it, and changed the angle of your thrusting so that the head of his cock was rubbing against the radiating heat of your pussy, giving him a better view of your thin panties digging into your slit.

You saw his teeth sink into his lower lip.

“F-Fuck…”

His eyes slid shut and he moaned your name, sensual and deep and far too practiced for it to be a closed secret, his hips pushing back up against you, trying to get more and unable to do so. Frustration. Need. Craving. All bleeding into his expression. Against better judgement, you could feel it too, the irresistible pull of barely enough, the desire to tease turning into wetness between your legs, slowly but surely perfuming the air with your sweet, musky arousal.

Jungkook opened his eyes and stared up at you, imploring softly.

“P-Please…”

His arm lifted from his forehead and his other hand raised, fingertips stroking your thighs while using his shoulder blades for leverage. Forceful and precise. You let go of his belt and traced the knuckles of one of his hands, feeling the restrained strength in his touch. He sank his fingers into your thighs, gasping, pressing the back of his head onto the floor and arching his back. His open shirt. His exposed muscular chest. His tan skin faintly glistening with sweat. His throat begging for a bite.

You raked your nails down his abs, forcing Jungkook to lustfully groan to the ceiling.

You smirked.

“Get up.”

With minimal effort, Jungkook lifted his torso off the ground, frowning at you for asking him to be reasonable. His palms pressed into your thighs, ensuring that you continued to straddle him even though you had no intention of moving. In fact, you drew your knees together, pinning him in between your thighs. A few black strands had dislodged from their places and draped over his furrowed brows.

“Was that so difficult?” you murmured with lowered lashes, walking your nails up his chest.

His hands were sliding up towards your hips under your skirt. “Yeah.” He squeezed your ass with his strong grip while staring into your eyes. “I’ve been wanting to get you out of this dress for hours.”

“Hm.”

You gave him an unimpressed look as you felt his fingertips glide down. He pulled outwards ever-so-slightly. From below, out of sight, your pussy lips parted with a wet sucking sound.

Jungkook moaned against your cheek, pressing his naked chest against your clothed breasts.

“Come on… Please…”

You hand had migrated to his side, steadily scratching his lower back.

“Very reckless and dangerous of you.”

He glanced at you with those half-moon eyes filled with stars of longing.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me to be,” Jungkook whispered hotly. “Brushing up against me by accident when I already told you that you look too damn hot. Teasing me every time I look down by showing off your legs even more.” His mouth brushed against the side of yours. You could faintly feel his lip rings. “You’re mean.”

You sat on top of his still-hard cock and purred, “I don’t recall doing such things,” before lightly bouncing on top of it.

He gasped and you sucked away his exhale, pulling back before he could kiss you.

“Let me,” he breathed out.

His hands came up to cradle your back as you arched your spine and then you sighed out, his soft kisses fanning over your décolletage, tucking his tongue between your breasts and licking upwards, his eyelids fluttering in bliss from the taste of your perfumed skin.

“Please, let me…”

Your arms around his neck. You had not intended to fuck Jeon Jungkook tonight but, then again, that was easy to think when he hadn’t looked at you with those perfectly desperate eyes yet. Nor had he yet pushed the top of your ass down to collide with his hard dick still fighting his pants, implying just how well you would fit together. Until right now that is. You smiled, leaning back into his warmth.

“At least button your shirt so you don’t startle the hotel staff with your sexy body.”

His ears flushed bright red. You shot him an amused look as he fumbled about.

“And what if there was a camera in here, hm? Recording your depravity,” you mused, appreciating the view.

“I don’t mind,” he mumbled to his chest. His ears remained red.

“I see. But if I compliment you, you become embarrassed.”

Jungkook avoided your gaze. “N-No…”

You hooked a finger under his chin and yanked him back up, confronting those big, dark brown orbs. He looked taken aback, almost afraid of what you would say next.

“I can’t wait to have you under me,” you whispered. “I’ll make you show me how talented you are at begging.”

He moaned into your mouth as you kissed him deeply, pulling him into your possessive embrace.

-

continued in get on the floor, m | jjk

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[hihomeghere]

Wedding at the End of the World | Five Hargeeves \ F!Reader

Word Count : 3.3k Summary : A reader insert for the episode Wedding at the End of the World. You and Five reminisce on your wedding/proposal before going to Luther and Sloanes wedding. You both go to the wedding with high hopes of a good evening. ( I do not own the Umbrella Academy or any of their characters) Warnings/Tags : Cursing, fluff, alcohol, allusions to sex, mentions of death, use of y/n, Aged up!Five. Not requested.

“How was the bachelor party?” You asked as Five walked into your shared hotel room. He walked over to the bed.

“Wasn’t half bad.” He said with a smug smile. He sunk down onto the mattress untying his shoes. You set your book down on the side table, it wasn’t that interesting anyway. But after stopping the apocalypse twice in the last month you were due some down time. He crawled onto the bed and you accepted him with open arms. At this point in your marriage everything was muscle memory, the way you two always came together. His head rested on your chest, while his arms wrapped around your waist. He relaxed, his whole weight on top of you. Your hand stroked his hair, lightly scratching his scalp.

“You know, I don’t regret anything about our wedding day.” He said looking up at you, “but it was nice to have all my brothers together before Luther’s.” He smiled, kissing your wedding ring. A beautiful art deco style band.

“Five Hargreeves,” You said a smile creeping onto your face, “are you going soft on me?” You chuckled as he scoffed.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy spending time with my brothers?” He rolled his eyes, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Whatever you say, old man.” You kissed his head, closing your eyes.

-

“Where are we going?” You giggled as Five pulled you through the outskirts of a vineyard, circa 1972

“You’ll see.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You rolled your eyes following him blindly. He turned through a stone doorway, letting go of your hand. 

You followed him, walking down sandstone steps onto the lawn. The sun was setting, causing an orange glow to reflect on everything. Lavender bushes lined the lawn, Five stood in the middle, a picnic set out before you. You smiled, racing to meet him. He grinned as you threw yourself into his arms, he spun you lightly, your cream sundress flowing around you.

“What is all this?” You asked, your smile all but splitting your face. 

“Happy anniversary,” he said looking down at you through his lashes. You cocked your head to the side.

“You little,” you hit his shoulder softly, “I thought you forgot.” You shook your head.

“I could never.” He said, a hand resting over his heart. You shoved him, he exaggerated his movements, falling to the ground. You tackled him, straddling him between your legs. “The food is going to get cold.” He said in between your kisses.

“Is that really what you’re thinking about?” You laughed pulling your hair away from your face. You sat up, removing yourself from his lap. You kneel in front of the food display, two glasses with a bottle of champagne, a charcuterie board, and for dessert different fruit tarts. Five began to pour you a glass of champagne as you dug in. From the lawn you could see the sun set over the ocean. The bright turquoise waves crashing against each other. 

“You know,” Five started, you turned to look at him, the golden rays shining on him, “you are the best thing to ever happen to me.” He grinned at you, chuckling to himself. 

“Same here,” you grinned, laying your head on his shoulder, “I wish everyday could be like this.” You sighed contentedly watching the sun disappear into the horizon.

“I can’t promise that, but I can promise to love you everyday with no conditions, if you’ll have me.” He said kissing your head. He moved slightly, slipping his hand behind him to pull a box out of his pocket. 

“Five are you?” You asked sitting up.

“Will you marry me, Y/n?” He asked with a nervous smile on his face, you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

“Yes! Yes! Of course!” You laughed, throwing yourself into his arms. He wrapped his arms around you, laughing with you. He put the ring on your finger, tears slipping past his lashes. You cupped his face, kissing him sweetly. He deepened the kiss, his tongue running across your lower lip.

“You know, I reserved this villa for two more hours.” He whispered, pulling away from you, a lick of fire behind his eyes.

-

“This is officially worse than the apocalypse.” Five mumbles next to you. You hit him softly, grinning. 

“Oh hush.” You say turning back to Sloane and Luther. Sloane looked breathtaking, they both glided on the dance floor. Drawn to each other like magnets. Unable to be apart, always connected to each other in some way.

“Were we ever like that?” Five asked his nose wrinkling in disgust as his arm snuck around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Who says we aren’t?” You laughed leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder. He kissed your head, sighing as he watched his brother dance with his bride. 

There was no denying how deeply he felt for you. It was no use, he had tried to bottle up the love he felt for you for years! And yet here you were, nestled in his arms. He still couldn’t quite understand how you had fallen for him. You were heaven on earth, a cool drop of water in the apocalypse. You were nothing like him, pure, kind, empathetic, any man's dream girl.

And you had chosen him. A stubborn, egotistical old man who had (at first) brushed you off without a second glance.

You worked hard, breaking down his walls brick by brick. Like those bricks Five had fallen for you, and hard. His heart had long ago been branded yours with a hot iron. He was only so lucky that you had fallen for him just as hard as he had fallen for you. 

“C'mon Mr. Hargreeves,” you said, detaching yourself from his side, “dance with me.” You asked, reaching your hand out. He smiled softly, taking your hand in his. You could ask him to cut out his heart and give it to you on a silver platter and he would do it. 

“How could I resist Mrs. Hargreeves?” He asked his hand returning to its rightful place at your hip, his other hand holding yours. You both swayed gently to the music, your nose nestled into his neck breathing in his aftershave. You never thought your life would be like this, after all the torture and pain you had been through. You never thought you would have a normal life after that. Well, your life with Five wasn’t exactly normal. You were both stuck in your 20 year old bodies after a mishap time traveling, a couple apocalypses under your belts, and a crazy family to boot. 

But it was your life, he was yours, and you were his. You were happy, content, even if the world was going to end. As long as Five was by your side you could face anything, even the end of it all.

“Oh what am I going to do with you?” You chuckle looking into his green eyes. A smile split his face, creeping all the way to his eyes.

“Anything.” He replied simply before capturing your lips against his. You hummed softly, closing your eyes. The song slowly came to an end, and you both retired to your table. 

There, Five made it very clear that he had one goal for the night. He poured a concoction of alcohol into glasses for the both of you, trying to get you as drunk as he was. You were giddy, the booze making you tingly all over. Every time Five would catch your eye you would giggle and shy away from his gaze. He put his hand on your leg, his fingers slowly inching up your thigh. He was trying to find an excuse to get you both out of this reception and back up into your room. He knew in a blink he could get you back in bed, but how to do it without 1. Drawing suspicion and 2. Without having to hear about how rude it was for you both to leave and effectively killing the mood. Unfortunately for Five, his brother had to cock block him.

"Cinco!" Klaus exclaimed as the two looked over. "Mi hermano! And hermana-in-law.” He lowered his voice smiling at you.

"Oh, god," Five said, chewing loudly. "What do you want?" You giggled while sipping your champagne.

"Listen to me," Klaus said, sitting in front of you, "Dad is upstairs right now with a plan to save everything. So what say you and I pop up to the suite for a little chit chat?"

"Are you like Frick and Frack with the old man now?" Five asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at Klaus.

"Y/n help me out! This dad's different," Klaus defended him. "He's a turtle. Hard on the outside, but all cute and wrinkly and occasionally delicious on the inside." Five took a drink of his champagne 

"Klaus?" Five asked.

"Yeah?"

"Old dogs like me and him never change," Five told him. You rolled your eyes, lightly hitting his shoulder. "It’s true! He has never had our best interests at heart. So, my only plan for tonight is to get fucked up beyond all recognition."

"Sure. Have at it," Klaus said, getting up as Five placed a shot inside another drink.

"I shall!" Five exclaimed taking a shot.

“Y/n what do you think?” After not making any leeway with Five, Klaus turned to you.

“Klaus, can’t you just enjoy the party? No apocalypse talk for one night, please.” You smiled lazily, resting your hand on his velvet suit.

“You’re only getting away with this cause you’re cute, you know that right?” He groaned, rolling his eyes. Five recoiled, a disgusted expression on his face.

“Oh please, it’s not like I’m gonna jump your wife’s bones.” He smirked, “Although Y/n….” He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Klaus, if you would so kindly walk away before I break your arm.” Five clenched his jaw, Klaus recoiled before walking away. “Why do you humor him?” Five asked as you turned to face him.

“Because he’s your brother, and for the most part he’s a good brother.” You said putting your hand on his shoulder looking into his eyes. He avoided your gaze. You smiled before leaning forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, over his two freckles.

“He better not sit here.” Diego said quite loudly drawing your attention away from Five, which he responded with a whine when your lips left his cheek. “I swear to god he better not sit here.”

“What is he doing here?” Ben added, “Who invited him?” Your eyes caught the elephant in the room. Reginald Hargreeves, your father in law. He gave a weird smile which just made the awkward tension in the room ten times worse. You looked back at Five, who gave you a knowing look before shrugging and taking another shot.

Lila and Diego made their way over him, Lilia apparently looking for an introduction.

“You won’t make me do that, right?” Five asked, taking your hand as you watched the somewhat pleasant interaction.

“Small talk with my in-laws is not on my apocalypse bucket list.” You reassured him, laughing. He smiled, “But if you wanted to go over and talk to him, I wouldn’t make you go alone.” He rolled his eyes staring at you.

“I’d rather lick a cheese grater.” You snickered before stealing one of his champagne flutes and downing it.

-

“What is he doing?” You asked as Reginald got up with a flute and a microphone, “oh my god is he going to give a speech?”

“Dear god, let’s hope the kugelblitz takes us before he starts.” Five mumbled before drinking another flute of champagne. You reached out blindly hitting him on his shoulder, you couldn’t look away from the anticipated train wreck in front of you.

“Sloane ever since you were a little girl, I’ve always known you were exceptionally bright. And although I can’t say I know Luther all that well, from the few moments we have shared, it seems you have found yourself an adequate partner.”

“He just called Luther adequate.” Five snickered a grin plastered on his face, you shushed him not wanting to miss any part of the speech. 

“I acknowledge that as a father I was not without my faults. I hope these shortcomings will be seen as only a rough patch on an otherwise verdant lawn.”

You took Five’s hand, giving him a smile. 

“You know for the most part this isn’t a bad speech.” You whispered, “Remember that wedding we went to in 1986?” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“How could I forget? We killed the groom's uncle after the reception.” He said meeting your eyes, a lick of fire in them.

“See! No one has died at this wedding!” You said the alcohol giving you a false sense of confidence.

“Yet.” He reminded you by holding up his flute for you, you raised your own clinking the two glasses. 

“I’m proud to call you my children. Even those whom I raised in a revenant version of myself.” Five leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. You rubbed his back lightly, gauging his reaction. “I hope that tonight we can create a few special memories, in whatever precious little time we have left.” You looked back over at Five, biting your lip slightly. You had a good run, but like Five you were so tired of running.

“So in closing, the sun rises over a lily field. A mother veiled her lips concealed.” Alison stormed off toward the elevator, “the mourners come in droves of black. To bury what their hearts unpack, with shallow breath and time eclipsed.” You looked over at Viktor who was pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. A pain shot through you at his expression. “I pray you miss death's gentle kiss.” He raised his flute to Luther and Sloane.

You sat in silence for a minute, turning your attention back to Five. He had the same pained expression, you grabbed his hand squeezing it. He turned to you, offering you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Diego and Klaus started clapping, “Bravo! Bravo dad!” Klaus said.

“I didn’t think the old man had it in him.” Five whispered to you.

“Guess some old dogs can change.” You offered wrapping your hand around his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him.

“My wife, always the optimist.” He smirked, taking another sip of champagne.

“You love it.” You said resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“That I do.”

You watched as Lila, Diego and Klaus all made their way to the dance floor, Luther and Sloane joining them.

“Come on mister,” you said, pulling yourself to your feet. He rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance before taking your hand as you pulled him onto the dance floor. 

-

Slowly you all made your way out to the courtyard. Five draped his suit jacket over your shoulders as you led him to two chairs. He had definitely met his goal for the night. He was fucked up beyond all recognition. You sat next to him, pulling him back into your chest. His cheeks were rosy, a side effect of all the alcohol. His warm hand rested on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin. While the bottle he had been nursing was clutched tightly against his chest. He rested his head on your shoulder as you looked up at your impending doom. Was it wrong to say it was beautiful? The swirling reds that danced in the dark sky. The orange string lights casted a glow on all of you, illuminating the otherwise dark courtyard. You pulled the bottle away from Five's lips, taking a drink for yourself. He let out a whine as you pulled it towards your lips.

“Hey guys.” Luther said as Sloane and him sat down. You waved to them as Luther leaned over to say something to Viktor. He put a hand on his back before Diego piped up.

“Oh no, no, no, no!” He said as Ben and Klaus walked over to where you were all seated. 

“Klaus, why are you bringing Ben here!” Five said with a slight crack in his voice gesturing at Ben.

“Hear me out!” Klaus said as a very drunk Ben leaned on him adding a little word here and there.

“The brother that you all knew as Ben is gone. And not- I don’t mean our Ben the nice Ben.” He clarified, “I mean this Ben.” He said pointing back to Ben as he put a bottle to his lips. “The asshole he’s gone now.” 

“Klaus what are you talking about?” Luther asked, looking around at all of you.

“And the man that stands in front of you is new, new Ben.” You watched as Klaus shook Ben, Five winced slightly looking at his two brothers. “And he’s one of us, and he’s a member of the team.” Klaus started chuckling, “and he’s part of the family!”

“Part of the family!” Ben yelled in unison

“And as a welcome gift I suggest we throw him off the roof.” Five smirked before you hit his chest. “What was that for?” He asked, dazed looking up at you.

“Five.” You deadpanned 

“Yeah I’ll help.” Diego said, looking at you two.

“Come on!” Klaus said both of them were hanging off each other.

“You know what, you know what.” Luther said pointing at the two men, “He can stay. He can stay.”

“Why?” Diego asked looking up at Luther

“Cause it’s my wedding day, man. Come on, he can stay.” You giggled as Ben and Klaus stumbled over to you all.

“How many times can he pull the ‘It’s my wedding card’” Five asked, rolling his eyes. 

“As many times as he wants babe” You said kissing his head.

“Barf,” Lilia said looking over at you two, “not you love, just the general idea of anyone finding that little turd attractive.” She said pointing at Five.

You shook your head trying to hide your smile. Five recoiled before looking back at you.

“Stop smiling!” He groaned, his brows furrowed, he looked like an angry toddler. At that you could help laughing, you held his face in your hands.

“Oh baby, don't be upset.” You kissed him before kissing all over his face, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose.

“Ooh woah, holy smokes.” Klaus said, looking up at your impending doom. Five reached for the bottle taking another swig.

“Hey you know something?” Luther said, breaking the silence, “tonight is all I ever really wanted.” A smile spread across your face as you looked at your brother in law.

“To get hitched?” Diego asked 

“Just… everybody coming together when it really matters.” He said, you grabbed Five's hand lightly squeezing it, “one big real family.” He kissed your hair, you all knew that Luther was the only one out of the siblings to have the guts to say what he felt. Suddenly Five moved off of you trying to get to his feet, clutching his stomach. He dry heaved as he almost fell onto his face, barely catching himself.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Everyone yelled leaning away from your stumbling husband.

“Oh I think I’m gonna hurl,” he muttered to himself. 

“Go get your man Y/n.” Diego said as you walked over to Five rubbing his back.

“Actually uh,” Five said, breaking away from your grasp, “I think I’m hungry, see ya guys I’m gonna hit the buffet.” He said stretching out his arms before gesturing inside. You sighed as he stumbled toward the building.

“Is he gonna be ok?” Viktor asked, pointing toward Five with his bottle.

You turned back to find all your siblings chuckling softly.

“I better go after him.” You said pointing behind you, “good night guys.” You waved before following Five inside.

“Night y/n.” Diego said, waving at you.

“We know who isn’t getting screwed tonight!” Klaus said loudly, you only flipped him off before heading inside. After your lovely drunk husband. You wouldn’t trade your family for the world.

[scary-grace]

sips drink. I am going to need. [ ring ] for shigraki

Thank you for the prompt! As usual, I went a little berserk with it, and there is. so much smut in this. If you're not a fan/this is not the vibe, let me know and I'll write you a different one, or do a better job with your other prompts! 9k, AU with demons, succubus!reader, tons of smut. If you're a big fan of super dominant Tomura, this is not the fic for that. MDNI + thanks to @dogblessyoutascha for beta-reading on short notice and putting up with tons of yapping and fic about this guy.

wanted (if you want me)

a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You're a down-on-your-luck succubus who just got rejected by the guy who summoned you, and you can't go back to Hell until you find somebody else's soul to steal. Shigaraki Tomura, reeling from a Valentine's Day rejection of his own, is the perfect victim. Or so you think. (cross-posted to Ao3)

“Sorry,” the guy who just summoned you says, sitting back from the pentagram he’s drawn on the floor with a frown. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m – what?” You feel stupid, which isn’t how you’re supposed to feel. You’re a demon, and a mortal’s just summoned you. You should feel powerful and lawless, not embarrassed. Not rejected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not my type,” the guy says again. He gestures awkwardly at you. “I was hoping for somebody – more.”

“Did you want a guy or something?” you ask. You cross your arms over your chest. Your clothes are barely worthy of the title, and you don’t want this guy seeing your nipples if he’s not even into them. “If you wanted a guy, you should have summoned an incubus. It’s not my fault you can’t read.”

“I like girls,” the guy snaps at you, rather than addressing the fact that you just called him a moron. “You were supposed to look like this.”

He picks up the grimoire he was reading the incantation out of and holds it up to you. It must be a new edition of the same old grimoire, because the last version of it you saw didn’t include illustrations. The illustration in question is a demon, identifiable as such by her horns and tail, but she looks about as much like you as you do like an angel straight from Heaven’s hideous art-deco gates. She’s got the kind of proportions that don’t work on Earth or in Hell – tiny waist, enormous breasts, ass that needs its own zip code, and her outfit is so tiny that you can see her nipples and her clit through it. And then there’s the face she’s making, straight out of some seedy erotic magazine, with blown-out pupils and open mouth and a delicate flush across her cheeks, all ready to be ruined.

Your outfit is skimpy, sure, but not that skimpy. You have the parts you need, but they aren’t that exaggerated, and if you tried that stupid expression, you’re pretty sure your face would melt off. If this is what this mortal expected, of course he’s disappointed to have gotten you.

His disappointment isn’t your problem, and now you’re in a mood. “Let me get this straight. You summoned a succubus – a sex demon from the depths of Hell – to fulfill your fantasies, and you’ve decided that now’s the time to get picky.”

“I’m not being picky,” he says. “Girls like you don’t do it for me. Can’t you send somebody else?”

“Sorry. All my sisters are seducing hotter mortals than you.” You feel a surge of pleasure at the way the man flinches. Guys like these – when they summon a succubus, they’re always thinking about the sex part, not the part where you’re a demon. “They took one look at you and decided I was all you deserved, and you know what? I don’t think you deserve me, either.”

“Well, I don’t want you, so –”

“In fact,” you continue, rising to your feet and internally cursing the fact that you decided to materialize in fuck-me heels, “I don’t think you deserve to get laid ever again.”

The mortal blanches. “What?” he demands, taking a step back as you step forward out of the pentagram. “You can’t leave the circle unless I say.”

“You really should look into those reading lessons. You’ll have a lot of time on your hands.” You were just going to lay the curse, but you decide that’s not enough. You nail him in the balls with a sharp kick, and as he doubles over, you speak, your voice crackling with the fires of Hell. “May your erections always wither, no matter how much porn you watch or how many drugs you take. May you disappoint every lover you take to your bed, and may that bed lie as cold and empty as the grave where they’ll bury your impotent corpse.”

It's a pretty good curse, if you say so yourself. “You bitch,” the mortal spits, but you snap your fingers and seal his fate. You know the moment the curse settles over him. You see the despair in his eyes. “Take it back!”

“No,” you say. You grasp his chin in one hand and lean in close, so close that your breath huffs out against his lips. You scraped your tongue for this guy. He deserves all this and more. “I’ll see you in Hell.”

His eyes roll up in his head and he collapses to the floor. You step over his unconscious form and survey the apartment you’ve found yourself in, dingy and filthy and smelling unpleasantly of human body odor. This is the kind of mortal who thought it was wise to reject you, just because you didn’t exactly resemble the absurd sketch in his grimoire. This is the kind of mortal who thought you weren’t good enough for him. Your lower lip begins to tremble, no matter how hard you sink your sharp teeth into it, and sulfuric tears begin to leak from your eyes. You were so excited to be summoned, so hopeful that you could do a good job for once. Now you just want to go home.

But you can’t. When you try to dematerialize and let Hell call you back, you can’t, and you realize why not in the same second as you realize that you didn’t curse that human nearly hard enough. You were summoned to this world to serve a purpose – to fuck some mortal so hard that they’ll sell you their soul – and until you serve that purpose, you’re trapped here. You need to find a mortal to sleep with, immediately. And you can’t go out looking like this.

You ransack the mortal’s apartment. None of his street clothes are anything you’d be caught exorcised wearing, but he has a long coat that he probably thinks makes him look mysterious and cool. You shrug it on, noting that it covers your skimpy outfit while still providing easy access to your body when it’s time to take it off, and keep searching, in case there’s anything else you can use. Money, as it happens – this human has a bank account and credit cards, and even unconscious, it’s all too easy to read his mind for the PIN. You pocket all of it, hide your demon form with a glamour, then leave the apartment door wide open on your way out.

As soon as you hit the street, though, you realize that you have an even bigger problem than you thought. You assumed it was some featureless winter evening, the kind where a bored, lonely mortal has nothing better to do than flip through a grimoire and get himself into trouble, but every storefront you look at is decorated with hearts. Every mortal you pass on the street is on someone else’s arm, or carrying flowers, or making out in the glow of a streetlight. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re fucked.

Contrary to what humans like the idiot who summoned you think, Valentine’s Day isn’t actually about sex. Sex is a side effect of what Valentine’s Day is really about, which is romance. It’s about love and soulmates and tenderness and affection and forever, which is exactly nothing you know anything about. Succubi and incubi exist on the dark side of all of that, in its nasty, sleazy, prurient shadow. You don’t court, you seduce. You don’t make love, you fuck. You don’t show people the face of God, or whatever that dumb-ass musical says; you show them the gates of Hell and walk them through. Seducing a random mortal is a tall order for you on a given day. Seducing one on Valentine’s Day is going to be damn near impossible.

You feel tears welling up again and blink them back. Crying over rejection from a filthy, useless mortal was bad enough. Demons shouldn’t feel that kind of pain, and if they do, they shouldn’t wallow in it. Demons get the job done. And it’s not totally hopeless, when you force yourself to be honest about it. For all the mortals who are happily coupled, there are plenty who aren’t, and if the mortal who summoned you is anything to judge by, some of them aren’t averse to a little salacious, damnation-worthy fun.

As far as places to find single humans go, you’re spoiled for choice; while all the restaurants have Valentine’s Day specials for mortals out on a date with their special someone, it seems as though every club or bar is advertising an event for singles. You peer into a few bars, but none of them strike you as having the right mood. Most of them carry a pathetic air of hopefulness, as if the humans within believe they really might find someone to love tonight of all nights. You don’t need hopefulness. You need desperation. You need a human so lonely and desperate that they won’t question why a stranger wants to fuck them. If you were attractive in your human guise, you’d have a better shot, but apparently you aren’t. Only a human who’s truly desperate would go for you.

Finally you come across a bar where the mood seems a little more appropriate. Some sort of singles event is winding down as you come in, and you sense the despair beginning to set in. Most of the humans here could easily pair up with one of the others if they were willing to alter their standards, but humans have gotten entitled these days, and they all think they deserve a partner who matches their ideals. They cling to that fiction even as the mood in the bar worsens. They don’t need to settle. They’re holding out for true love.

Pathetic. You square your shoulders and wade into the mix.

The gender of your target doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t even matter if they’re willing to sell their soul tonight – once you’ve fucked them, you can come back as many times as it takes for them to give it over. But even with your criteria broadened, you’re having trouble. As you search through the humans, tasting the flavor of their emotions every time you brush against one, you don’t find a single one who feels the way you need them to.

You taste sadness. Loneliness. Despair. Resignation or acceptance – sometimes they’re hard to tell apart. A few strange humans have even found refuge in faith, some idiosyncratic hope that they’ll find what they’re meant to find when the time is right, as if God has time to ordain such stupid things. On another night, you’d take pleasure in crushing their hopes, but your own hopes of getting out of here are sinking by the second. You need a human. Any human will do.

But just as you’re resigning yourself to seduce a woman, one whose loneliness carries just the faintest tinge of despair, you’re hit with a wave of exactly what you’ve been looking for. Not just despair, but disappointment. Not just loneliness, but hurt. Not just resignation, but frustration and embarrassment, at feeling hurt and disappointed and finding themselves here at all. You turn away from the woman without ever drawing her attention to you and follow the thread of rejection through the bar to a booth in the corner, where a mortal sits alone.

Along with the relief of finding a target at last, the first feeling that crosses your mind is surprise.  This isn’t the sort of mortal you’d expect to find alone on Valentine’s Day, just based on his looks alone – almost-delicate facial features, long white hair, a frame that’s broad-shouldered yet lithe, observable even when he’s seated. As you get closer, you see a birthmark below the corner of his mouth, scars over his mouth and eye, and long lashes framing his crimson eyes. This mortal is pretty. Some of your sisters don’t care what their targets look like, but you like your mortal men pretty.

The mortal looks up as you come to the edge of his table. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. “You’re late to the party.”

“Apparently not, since you’re here. Do you mind if I sit down? My feet are hurting in these shoes.”

He looks down at your shoes, and just like you were hoping, his eyes trace upwards, over your bare ankle to your calf to your knee before it disappears beneath your stolen coat. “Go ahead,” he says. “There’s room.”

There’s plenty of room, but you sit down next to him anyway, your leg pressed against his. You feel him startle, feel him go tense, and decide it’s worth drawing attention to. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” he says, but you can hear his heart beginning to race. “Just wondering if this is a setup or something. People like you don’t usually want anything to do with people like me.”

“People like me?” you say. You turn towards him, elbow propped on the table, chin propped in your hand. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” your mortal says. “Looks like yours, there’s no way you’re single.”

You can’t imagine this mortal’s self-deprecating angle working on anyone, but the compliment makes you glow ever so slightly. “Strange. I was thinking the same about you.”

Your mortal doesn’t glow. He blushes. “Don’t lie.”

“Would I lie?” Yes, frequently and gleefully – but not right now. “You’re gorgeous.”

He scoffs, averts his eyes, but his heart’s beating faster. It’s cute, and since he’s opened this door, you might as well walk through. Time for a little touching. You start with the scar above his eye. “I like this, and this –” you trace the scar, then tuck a few strands of white hair behind his ear, letting your fingers graze across his cheek and down to his jaw before reaching the scar over his mouth. “And this –”

He speaks while your fingers are still against his lips. “Careful.”

“I’m being really careful,” you promise. You run your fingers over his mouth again, slow and teasing, then turn your attention to the birthmark. “And I like this. It really completes the picture. Whoever rejected you tonight, they were out of their mind.”

“I could say the same about whoever rejected you.” Your mortal’s hand brushes against your knee, then drifts away, and you shiver ever so slightly. You like this mortal. It’s always easier when you like them. “I saw you watching the rest of them. Why did you pick me?”

“Like I said, you’re gorgeous,” you say, and shrug. The shrug presses you a little closer against him, and you don’t pull back. “And you looked like you were having the same kind of night as I am. I thought we could make each other feel better.”

He gives you a skeptical look, but the flush in his cheeks gives him away. Oh, you like this one. Even if he gives you his soul tonight, you’ll come back to visit him at least a few more times. “How do you think we can do that?”

“By giving each other what we want,” you say. “Don’t you get tired of having to play a part, to be what someone else expects you to be, and never have your desires fulfilled? I could give you that.”

He scoffs. “You think you know what my desires are?”

“You’d tell me,” you murmur. “That’s the point.”

Your mortal’s skepticism doesn’t fade, but neither does his blush. “What about what you want? I don’t buy for a second that it’s just to sleep with me.”

The question gives you pause. It’s not one you’ve thought of before. Succubi don’t have sexual desires, really – your goal is always to seduce your target, which means it’s all about what your target wants. You aren’t very good at your job, but you’ve put up with all sorts of things, doing them or having them done to you, if it means the mortal you’re fucking will hand over their soul. What you want, personally, doesn’t factor in even slightly. What do you want from this mortal? You don’t know.

“You don’t know,” your mortal says, as though you’ve spoken aloud. His hand brushes against your leg again, settles there. “I’ll help you find out.”

“Only if you tell me what you want,” you insist, as he brushes your coat aside and finds your leg bare. His fingertips are dry and rough as they trail over your skin, brushing the inside of your thigh. “Oh –”

“Too much?” he asks. There’s an almost wicked glint in his eye.

You feel your own heart pick up the pace. This will be a challenge. You like a challenge. “Answer my question first. Every time you answer, you can move your hand.”

“I want you.”

“Wrong answer.” You close your legs, not that they were that far apart in the first place. You’re not easy. “I asked about your unfulfilled desires, and you just met me today. I can’t be the only thing you want.”

“Mm.” Your mortal makes a dissatisfied noise. Even as he leaves his hand in place, you see an awkwardness settle over him – nerves, or something like it. For such a gorgeous mortal, he’s an interesting contradiction. “I want – to be out of control.”

“Out of control?” You won’t open your legs just yet. “Tell me more.”

“You were right about me. I’m always doing what others want. I always have to be in control. I want to be outside my own control,” your mortal says. He can’t meet your eyes, and the flush in his cheeks looks almost uncomfortable. When you lean in to kiss it, his skin is hot beneath your lips. “I want someone else to –”

“Praise you? Worship you? Pleasure you until you can barely think?” You know you’ve got him by the sharp intake of breath, by the way he startles. “That would be my pleasure, too.”

You part your legs enough to free his hand, and his fingers, shaking slightly, work their way up the inside of your thigh. “What else?” you ask. “Be specific.”

“I want whatever you can give me.” He turns his head, looking away, which is an error on his part; it leaves his neck exposed, and you lean in to kiss it, feeling his pulse jump and race. “If I tell you it’s too much, I want you to give me more.”

“That was a good answer.” You part your legs a little further, and he takes it as the invitation it is. “Anything else?”

“I want to do the same to you,” your mortal says, and your face flushes. “It’s only fair. If you get to ruin me, I get to ruin you.”

Ruining him calls to mind all sorts of things, acts you’ve performed for other mortals by rote, acts you want nothing more than to perform for him, and the thought overwhelms you enough that you miss what he’s doing with his hand between your legs until he’s touching you, tracing your clit through the thin fabric. You realize with some degree of horror that you’re wet, and worse, that even his delicate touch has you spreading your legs wider. While you weren’t paying attention, your mortal made a bid for the upper hand, and he almost got it.

Not quite, though. You renew your efforts on his neck, feeling him shudder. You’ll do as he asks, as he desires – but not until he begs you, out loud, to give him what he needs. He shifts, squirms, in response to your attentions to his neck, much as you’re doing with his hand between your legs. “Mutual ruination,” you muse. “That sounds like a plan to me.”

Your hand’s been trapped at your side. You work it free and slip it behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Then you turn him back to face you, drinking in the sight of him for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. The only way your mortal’s never had his desires fulfilled is if he’s never voiced them. You can’t imagine anyone looking at him, seeing him like this, and denying him what he wants.

Most mortals you’ve seduced lose patience with kissing quickly. The kind of mortals who summon a succubus only have one thing on their mind, but your mortal doesn’t know what you are. He kisses you eagerly, if inexpertly, and it’s only right for you to reward his enthusiasm. Besides, there’s something about kissing him that feels right, too right for the unholiness of what you are. If being with a mortal feels this good, you’re probably doing it wrong.

What does it matter? As long as you sleep with him, you’ll be free to return home. You’re a demon. Wrongness and rightness don’t factor in. You kiss your mortal carefully, paying some mind to the sharpness of your teeth and the delicateness of his skin. He’s less careful with his teeth. They nick your lip and blood wells out, and he licks it away without a moment’s hesitation. That flick of his tongue makes you consider other places it might belong, and you catch your breath. Or maybe it’s because he’s tugged your underwear aside to touch you directly, and you can no longer ignore the way he makes you feel.

You lean back, struggling to clear your head. A thought crosses your mind. “What’s your name?”

“Tomura.” Your mortal’s crimson eyes are dilated with want, the desperation you were so drawn to evident across his face. “Please –”

You kiss him again, and as he begins to finger you in earnest, stroking your clit and dipping his fingers shallowly inside you, you untangle your fingers from his hair and trace the inside of his thigh. Tomura startles at your touch, but spreads his legs at once, and your head spins with want. “How long have you wanted this?” you murmur against his lips. “Tell me.”

“Eternity.” Tomura twitches as you brush your hand over his groin before returning to toy with his thigh again. “But it’s not what they want me for. Nobody asked what I wanted until you.”

“Then they were missing out.” You bite back a gasp as Tomura sinks two fingers inside you, curling them just so, but his touch is only half the reason – the other half is the thought that you’re the first to see him this way, the only one to see him this way. “If they could see how pretty you are like this –”

“Do you want them to?”

“No,” you decide at once. You brush your hand over his groin again, noting how tightly his pants are stretched over his hardening cock. “I want you all to myself.”

His body jerks, craning upwards into your touch. “Now,” he says, almost demands. “I need it now.”

“People could see,” you warn. “If they walk by, they’ll know we’re up to something. Do you care about that?”

“Yes,” Tomura says, and you run your thumb over the tip of his cock through his pants. His body jerks, and you do it again. Again. “Fuck –”

“We can leave whenever you want,” you say, even as your body tenses around his fingers. You feel wound tight, your legs shaking from the strain, your lungs feeling as though they can’t hold on to even a single whisper of air. Mortals have choked you before while you’re seducing them and it’s never been like this. “Tell me to stop and we’ll go.”

Tomura doesn’t tell you to stop. You undo his belt, unzip his pants, and the instant your hand closes around his cock, he moans, loud enough to attract attention if anyone from the failed singles event is still around. He’s embarrassed by it – you can tell – but he doesn’t tell you to stop, and you keep stroking his cock. “So pretty,” you say, your voice catching as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. “Does that feel good? Let me make you feel even better.”

You grasp his wrist and pull his hand from between your legs, thankful for the reprieve. Tomura tastes his fingers, savoring them in a way that makes you feel almost awkward. “I wasn’t done.”

“No, but you’re about to make a mess.” You give a pointed glance down at his cock, which is oozing enough precum to stain his underwear. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s plenty of space for you under the table, and better yet, you’re out of sight, which means Tomura can’t see your reaction to the way he spreads his legs for you. And you haven’t vanished a moment too soon. You can hear footsteps approaching, and you sit forward and take his cock in your mouth just as the newcomers arrive.

“You sure you need this whole booth when you’re by yourself?” whoever it is asks. You hear Tomura start to answer, but you suck lightly on the tip of his cock, forcing him to bite back a curse. “What is your problem?”

“No problem,” Tomura grunts. You put your tongue to use, tracing it over his tip as you wrap your hand around the rest of his length. “Fuck – fuck off. There are other places to sit.”

The newcomer might say something else, but you can’t hear it around your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Tomura wants you. He wants you so badly that he’s letting you blow him in public, that he won’t tell you to stop even when the two of you might be caught. The instant the other mortal leaves, you’re cradling his balls in your free hand, then sliding your hand a little further to press against his taint. Tomura’s entire body jerks and trembles. “Careful,” he forces out between gasps of air. “I’m going to – come –”

You wish you weren’t under the table, even if being under the table is necessary to contain the mess. You wish you could see Tomura’s face as his composure shatters, as he tries and fails to thrust upwards into your mouth and spills a ridiculous amount of cum down your throat. But he’s not quite out of control, not yet, and if you’re going to steal his soul, you really should give him what he wants first. You keep stroking his cock even as the shaking subsides, your tongue still dragging over his tip. He hasn’t gone soft just yet. You’re kind of impressed.

You’re impressed, too, with how he holds out. You know you’re overstimulating him, but he hasn’t told you to stop yet. And he asked you to keep going even if he told you it was too much. Still, you don’t like the idea of hurting your mortal. You renew your efforts, employing all the tricks you’ve learned to keep mortal men hanging on your every move, and to your shock, Tomura comes again. This time he’s almost sobbing, and you draw back at once, climbing out from under the table to check on your handiwork.

There are scratches in the couch cushions and on the tabletop, and both the napkins that were on the table have been crumpled out of existence. Tomura looks wrecked. He’s been yanking at the collar of his shirt, running his hands through his hair, and his face is flushed and sweaty. His eyes are blurred, and he’s still breathing hard, but when you lean in to kiss him, he obliges instantly. He’s unsteady, and yet there’s a strange hunger in the way he kisses you, a hunger that takes yours and amplifies it in a way you can’t quantify, let alone guard against. You find yourself melting into his touch, needing closeness, needing contact. And he gives it to you.

You’ve only just settled into a languid pace, your hands in his hair and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, when someone smacks a server’s tray down on the table and startles you out of it. It’s the bartender. “Do you mind?” she demands, her face red. “This isn’t that kind of place! Take it outside.”

That’s fine with you. A little PDA is one thing, but whatever happens next between you and Tomura, you want privacy for it. You start to slide out of the booth, but Tomura won’t let you. He kisses you again, and you realize he’s giving himself cover to button his pants. But as long as you’re here – “What did I just say?” the bartender explodes. “Get out!”

You and Tomura stumble out onto the street, and the instant the door shuts behind you, Tomura pins you against it to kiss you again. “Does that feel good?” he asks, the same question you asked him earlier. You didn’t give him a chance to answer, and he doesn’t give you one, either. “Let’s go somewhere. You’re not the only one who doesn’t like to share.”

“Where should we go?” you ask. “I’d rather not go to a love hotel. Your place?”

He hesitates for a moment. “My place. Come on.”

You kiss on the train platform, mostly to keep out the cold, but on the train, you find yourself simply looking at Tomura, talking to him. You find out that he got rejected tonight, too, and came to the bar to mope about it. “They’re nothing. Their opinions don’t matter,” he says. Even his disdain sounds like yours. “That doesn’t change how it feels.”

“I know,” you say. You lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your left hand intertwined with his right. “My – date – said I wasn’t his type, then showed me this ridiculous drawing –”

“May his dick shrivel up and fall off,” Tomura says matter-of-factly, and you find yourself giggling. “If you aren’t enough for him, he doesn’t deserve to have any at all. Still –”

He trails off. “His loss, my gain.”

“You’re just saying that because I blew you.”

Tomura snorts. “Don’t be stupid. You asked what I wanted. Nobody’s ever asked me that. That’s not what I’m for.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. He doesn’t strike you as a sex worker – he’s too earnest, too vulnerable, in how he responds to you for it to be his day job. He shrugs, shakes his head. “I think you’re for whatever you want to be for. That’s how you are to me.”

His grip on your hand tightens for a moment, then loosens again, fingers tangling with yours. A strange spark, like an electric shock, ripples across your hand, and you look down to see an odd shadow around your ring finger. That wasn’t there before, but then again, you’ve never spent this long in the mortal world without fulfilling your purpose. “What about you?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you know what you want?”

“I never thought about it before.” Some of your sisters enjoy their jobs, but it’s always felt like a job to you. Something to get through, so you can go home. “It hasn’t really mattered.”

“It matters now,” Tomura says. “When we get back to my place, I’ll show you.”

Tomura’s place is in a downtown high-rise, the third floor from the top of the building, and he gives you long enough to finally step out of your awful shoes before he peels you out of your jacket. For a single moment you’re convinced you’re about to see the same reaction as the mortal who summoned you, but instead Tomura’s eyes travel slowly over your form, lingering in every place you’d expect and a few places you didn’t. “This picture he showed you,” he says. “The one he thought was better than you. What did it look like?”

“Uh –” Where do you start, really? “The proportions were totally off. Its waist was tiny, and its breasts were huge –”

“Huh.” Tomura’s hands are at your waist, running over the curve from torso to hip and back with a firm, steady touch. One stays there, but the other migrates upwards, cupping your breast through your scant clothing. “What else?”

“It had this stupid outfit on. Like, way smaller than mine. You could see everything,” you say. Tomura’s thumb brushes over your nipple, then comes back to circle it, and heat begins to pool in your lower abdomen. “It barely covered her nipples – or her clit. It just looked kind of – I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, but –”

Your voice catches. Tomura’s hand slides from your waist down between your legs, stroking your clit with his middle finger. His touch is featherlight, compared to the way he’s playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging it, making you squirm. “What else?” he prompts.

“The stupid face she was making. It was straight out of a porno – like, one of the really cheap ones. What some guy who’s never seen a woman come before would –” You startle as Tomura’s fingers slip further between your legs, then sink easily into you. “Tomura –”

“This drawing sounds like a fucking mess,” Tomura says. He reaches down and grasps your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist and leaving you even more exposed for him. “I want to see the real thing.”

He wants you to come for him. You know how to fake a convincing orgasm – or an unconvincing one, depending on the target – but you don’t want to fake for Tomura. You promised him he can have what he wants, and he wants this, you. Your chest goes tight. “I don’t know if I can, like this.”

“I’ve got lots of ideas.” Tomura kisses you, and that need to melt into him resurfaces, even as your body responds to his onslaught. “Show me.”

You try to keep kissing him, but you can’t. Your legs are shaking again, and it’s hard to breathe, and you have to draw back to gasp for air. Somewhere in the back of your mind is the thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, that something went wrong in your seduction of this mortal if he’s the one trying to please you, but it’s stifled by other, more pressing matters. The heat flooding through you, the awful and yet indescribable exposure of your legs spread this way, Tomura’s hand anchoring you so you can’t pull back off his fingers until he’s done with you.

Or until you’re done with him. You come hard enough to blur your vision, hard enough that your legs almost give out, and Tomura keeps his fingers inside you until your twitching and squirming subsides. When he draws them back, you can see that his hand is soaked. He brings them to his mouth to taste them again, and you spot a shadow around his fourth finger. It can’t hold your attention for long. “That was good,” he decides. “But I want to see more.”

“More?” Your voice is shaky, and you’re hanging onto Tomura for dear life. “What do you mean?”

“You said I could have what I wanted,” Tomura reminds you. “This way.”

You follow him down the hall on shaky legs, into a bedroom with an enormous bed. Finally. You’re not getting into bed with Tomura still wearing your horrible outfit, so you peel it off, then turn to help him with his clothes. You undress him slowly, kissing every inch of skin you uncover, trying to regain some of your lost composure. But it’s hard to compose yourself when there’s so much of him to explore, to praise. So pretty, so noisy, so needy even when there’s no need for it – because you want him to have what he wants, and you want to be the one who gives it to him. The only one who gives it to him.

And that’s what you find yourself murmuring, as you guide him down to the bed to lie on his stomach, as you brush his long hair aside to kiss his back and his shoulders. I have what you need. Everything you need. You’re mine.

Tomura’s breathing turned quick and shallow a while ago, worse as you kiss the small of his back, the arch of his hip. He stirs beneath you. “I want to see more,” he says. “On your back.”

He’ll fuck you now, and he’ll come, and then you can finally go home. You spread your legs, leaving room for him to settle between them, and he does – much further down than you expected. He anchors your hips to the bed before you can stop him, holding you down with strong hands as he lowers his head between your thighs. The way his hair brushes against them tickles. The marks he leaves on them are oversensitive, making your legs twinge long before his tongue drags over your clit, and you wonder how you’ll explain the marks when you get back to Hell. How you’ll explain the fact that this mortal seduced you almost as skillfully as you seduced him.

Tomura eats you out messily, enthusiastically, until you’re arching your back and thrashing in his grip. The heat of his mouth against you, the pressure of his tongue against your clit or the way it feels when he licks inside of you – it all feels almost sinful. Too good for you to have, too good to want more of, too good not to beg him to keep going. You can barely manage to praise him for it, but when you do, his grip on your hips tightens and he grinds against the mattress. It’s wrong. There’s something wrong, and you want it so badly, and for the first time, you understand a little bit of why humans are so quick to sell their souls.

Tomura makes you come once, then a second time while you’re still trying to recover, and you barely manage to scramble away before he can slide his fingers inside you and try for a third. “What happened to not being in control?” you ask, and he shrugs, half a smirk on his face. “Lie down. It’s my turn.”

You crawl over him as he lies back, tasting yourself on his lips when you lean down for a kiss. Tomura relaxes so easily for you now, so much that he lets you grasp his hands one by one, raising them above his head. For the first time since you cloaked your true form, you engage in a little bit of demon magic. Enough to conjure restraints, and tie Tomura’s hands to the headboard before he can so much as open his eyes.

You’ve shocked him. You can see it, and better yet, you can feel it, in the way his skin heats up and his heart races. “You said you didn’t want control,” you remind him. “And I said I’d pleasure you until you couldn’t think.”

“Are you?” Tomura’s voice goes raspy. He watches you with wide eyes as you shift further down on the bed. “What are you going to do?”

“Everything.”

You learned all sorts of magic in the course of stepping into your role as a succubus, but this is the first time in a while that you’ve used any of it. And it’s for small things – the restraints on Tomura’s hands, the feather you conjure to trace all over his body until he squirms, the lube you coat your fingers with before you start working them inside him. Tomura doesn’t stop you, but he has a request. “Don’t fuck me like that. Not tonight.”

“Just my fingers,” you promise, and he nods, his eyes dark with need. “Whatever you want.”

You haven’t had the chance to watch Tomura come yet, and you get a chance as you finger him to an orgasm. He takes your breath away, your mortal – so pretty, so vulnerable, so loud and expressive and lost in it that you can’t help but stroke his cock with your free hand while you work him up a second time. In an ordinary seduction, with an ordinary target, now is when you’d stop. Now, when all he can do is beg for you, now when he’d give you anything to keep going; right now is when you’d ask for his soul in exchange. You know how to phrase it so that the mortals never guess what they’re truly giving up. It would be easy.

And it’s not what you want. There aren’t words for how much you don’t want that. Not when you’ve earned your mortal’s trust, not when he’s certain enough that you’ll give him what he wants that he doesn’t feel shame in begging for it. You know Tomura’s close when he starts squirming away from your fingers rather than clenching down on them. “Ride me,” he pants. “Ride my cock.”

Demon magic cleans your hands, and you slip down onto his cock with only a little strain. “You’re perfect,” you tell him as he stares helplessly up at you. “We fit so well –”

Tomura’s hips jerk upwards beneath you, making you gasp. “If we fit so well, come on my cock,” he pants. He’s been yanking at the restraints. You made them soft, but his wrists are chafed. “I need you to. I can’t – fuck, I need you –”

You’ve never needed a mortal before. You’ve never needed anyone before, but you need him, enough that doing what he asks doesn’t feel far-fetched at all. You ride him slowly, finding an angle that suits you, realizing how sore you are in the same moment. It’s been a hard night’s work. Usually mortals can’t keep up with you, and usually it feels like work. Tomura’s fingers curl and uncurl uselessly as he fights the restraints, and you reach up to grasp them, to hold them steady. And that’s when you notice it – the same shadow marking around his fourth finger as around yours.

Where did that come from? What is that? The restraints you conjured vanish in the space of a single heartbeat, and Tomura’s hands clamp down on your hips, guiding you as he thrusts upwards. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat, to his chest and his shoulders and the sides of his neck, and the same heat writhes beneath your own skin as Tomura takes control over your pace. His thrusts are unsteady, but every time, he finds the angle you need him to.

You can’t breathe. You can barely think. Everything narrows down to heat and pressure and friction and pleasure and agony, because your body’s wrung out and still needs more, because Tomura’s falling apart beneath you and pressing his thumb over your clit to take you down with him. Pleasure explodes through you, collapsing you on top of Tomura. His grip on you barely loosens, even as your efforts to hold onto anything fall away. Anything includes your human guise.

Damn it. You untangle yourself from Tomura as quickly as possible, only to tuck yourself in against his side, uncomfortably relieved when he holds you tight. If you keep your tail under control and he doesn’t get a good look at you, he’ll never know what you really were. He’ll know something’s up, though. When he wakes up and finds that you’ve vanished out of this world, leaving evidence only in the chafe-marks around his wrists and the taste of you still on his tongue, he’ll know there was something strange about you. And he’ll have a lot of questions when you come back.

And you will come back. That’s the only thing that makes the knowledge that you’re mere moments from being drawn back to Hell bearable. Most of the time you can’t wait to leave your targets, whether you’ve collected their souls or not. This time, though – “I don’t want to leave yet.”

But you weren’t the only one speaking. Tomura said the same thing, on the off-beats as you spoke. “You’re leaving?” you ask. “This is your house. Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” Tomura retorts. His grip on you tightens further – tight enough to bruise, if you were human or mortal. “What –”

He sits up suddenly, pulling you with him. Hell is pulling you back, but not quickly enough. Tomura looks at you, sees you – sees your horns, sees your tail, which is lashing anxiously in spite of your efforts to calm yourself. But you see him, too. You see the ram’s horns curling from beneath his white hair, the sharpness of his teeth. He’s not trying to control his tail at all. It wraps around your leg tightly. “You’re a demon.”

“So are you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you know?” You try to separate yourself from him. Tomura should be letting go of you, should be shoving you away, but he’s still holding on, tighter every time you try to pull away. “Let go. If they find out –”

The world tears open around the two of you, well before you can pull away, and Hell pulls you back in at warp speed.

You don’t end up back in the spot you dematerialized from, and you doubt Tomura does, either. The two of you crash down on a rocky plateau, just on the outskirts of one of the cities, a desolate place no one comes to unless they’ve been cast out to wander amongst the souls of the dead. Why are you here? Is it because you came back together? Maybe that’s why – it couldn’t return you to your separate summoning locations when you’re so close together, so it split the difference and dropped you off here. Maybe there’s still time for you to hide this.

“Wow,” a familiar voice announces from somewhere behind you, and your heart sinks, “have the two of you fucked up.”

Tomura swears under his breath. “Is that your boss?”

Your boss, or your mother – nobody’s clear on which. Nemuri is picking her way through the jagged stones towards you, a vicious smirk on her face. “I can explain,” you start. “It’s not –”

“I tricked her,” Tomura interrupts. You stare at him in horror. “It was me. Not her.”

“No,” you snap. “I seduced him. I’m the one who –”

“I’m sure you believe that.” Nemuri’s smirk broadens, showing her fangs. “You’re so pathetically incompetent that –”

“Now, now, Nem. Let’s not let my guy off the hook here.” The new voice, loud and rich and full of almost-insane laughter, can only belong to another elder demon. Like Nemuri, he’s wearing a vicious smirk. “Remember, my guy’s the one who got rejected by his summoner and packed it in for the evening. At least yours gave it a second shot.”

“That’s my boss,” Tomura mumbles. “Fuck.”

“In fact,” Tomura’s boss continues, “one could argue that your girl’s off the hook. She did her job. It’s not her fault that my guy’s aura of misery was so strong that it made him actually look human. Or that he was so desperate to be wanted by somebody that he forgot to check whether she was actually a demon trying to steal his soul.”

Tomura’s shoulders hunch, and a surge of anger runs through you. “When you put it that way, Hizashi, it does sound like my nymphet is off the hook,” Nemuri says. “But when your pathetic little imp tried to take the fall for her, she wouldn’t let him. It seems they’re terrible at everything demonic, lying included. They’re telling the truth.”

“They really did seduce each other,” Hizashi muses. “That’s cringe.”

“More importantly, it’s against the rules.” Nemuri’s standing over you. Hizashi joins her, and the two of them leer down at you and Tomura, practically licking their lips. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

There aren’t many punishments that can affect demons – you’re basically gluttons for it. Then again, there aren’t many rules for demons to break. “I’m not sure,” Hizashi says. “Offer them up to Heaven for punishment? Banish them to the mortal world until the trumpets sound? Throw them out to wander with the restless dead forevermore?”

You might not love your job, but you have your sisters. If you’re cast out, you’ll never see them again. The only thing worse would be getting thrown to Heaven as an offering, one of Hell’s not-infrequent tithes to keep the peace. Tomura’s tail wraps around your waist, and you cover his left hand with your right as you wait for your fates to be decided. The thought crosses your mind, pointlessly, that you won’t spend an eternity of exile entirely alone. You’ve dragged someone else down with you, which might be the most demonic thing you’ve ever done in your life.

“Now that I think about it,” Nemuri says, her smirk broadening still further, “I don’t think we need to punish them – not when they’ve punished themselves so effectively.”

“What does that mean?” Tomura snaps. Hizashi is guffawing, his voice echoing off the jagged rocks. “Don’t laugh. What does that mean?”

“What does it mean, you gloomy brat?” Hizashi wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “Take a look at your hands, both of you.”

You let go of Tomura’s and lift your own. Your right hand is clear, but your left – you remember noticing the shadow around your fourth finger, feeling the faint spark as it darkened a little further. It’s not a shadow anymore. Instead it’s a thin golden shackle, encircling your finger below your knuckle. No, not a shackle. A ring.

It won’t come off. You yank on it, try to dig your nails beneath it, but it won’t come off. Next to you, Tomura’s doing the same, cursing fluently, and Hizashi and Nemuri are laughing at you both, leaning on each other to stay upright. “It’s the first rule we teach you all when you’re spawned. No fucking your own kind, and this is why!” Hizashi is laughing almost too hard to speak, while you try to chew your ring off and Tomura breaks his own finger trying to remove his. “Thanks to your little tryst, the two of you are bound forever in unholy matrimony!”

“My congratulations to the happy couple,” Nemuri says. “The two of you are never going to live this down. You’ll be the laughingstocks of Hell. You’re going to beg us to banish you!”

“And we won’t,” Hizashi says. “I can’t think of a better object lesson than the two of you. We send you to the mortal realm to collect souls, and not only did you end up fucking each other, you didn’t commit a single demonic act!”

“I cursed somebody,” you protest.

“Me too,” Tomura says. “The mortal who –”

You remember what Tomura said about the mortal who rejected you: May his dick shrivel up and fall off. “You cursed the same mortal,” Nemuri says. She pauses a moment. “I will admit, it’s a fairly creative curse. The imp’s little add-on will make a nice insult to the injury.”

You’re better at cursing mortals than you are at seducing them, but you can’t imagine Tomura’s bad at it. Not with the way he worked you over. You duck your head to hide the heat coming up in your face. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your honeymoon,” Hizashi says. He shrugs off the ornate robe he’s wearing and drops it on the ground in front of you, revealing body chains, nipple piercings, and nothing else. “Wear this on your way back into the city. Maintain a little dignity.”

“Here, imp. Just for you.” Nemuri drops her robe over Tomura’s head, and he shoves it off into the dust. “Everyone’s going to know about your little bout of lovemaking, but I imagine you’d prefer if they didn’t know exactly how you’ve been chewing on each other.”

The two of them stroll back towards the city, arm in arm, still laughing. It’s a long time before their laughter fades, and then you and Tomura are alone on the outskirts. The wind, blowing hot a moment before, changes direction, growing cold and carrying sharp shards of ice. You put on Hizashi’s robe, then turn towards Tomura. He’s already shivering, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, Nemuri’s robe discarded in front of him. You pick it up and settle it back around his shoulders, shifting his hair aside so it won’t get caught beneath the collar – and then you realize what you’re doing. You freeze. “Sorry.”

Tomura shrugs, but the robe stays on. “You’re better at this than your boss says you are,” he says without looking at you. “I believed you.”

“I’m worse than she says I am,” you say. “I wasn’t lying.”

Tomura looks up at that, and you look away, your eyes stinging in the freezing wind. You never lied to Tomura, not from the moment you approached him. This would be so much less embarrassing if you had. If you’d listened to any of the moments where you sensed that it was going a little too well, that it felt a little too good. If you’d kept your distance instead of falling under his spell as quickly and easily as he fell under yours. “Your boss was talking out of his ass. Your whole thing worked really well on me.”

“Yeah. Except it wasn’t a thing.” Tomura’s tail wraps loosely around your wrist. “Mutual ruination. You were right.”

He’s got your right wrist. You study your left hand with its ring, and Tomura lifts his alongside yours. His ring looks the same as yours, although he’s dislocated his fourth finger in addition to having broken it. “Want me to fix that?”

“Demon magic doesn’t fix things.”

“It’s not supposed to marry people, either.” You’re not expecting that argument to work, but Tomura lets you capture his hand anyway. You relocate it manually, then try to work some magic over it. All your magic serves to make a seduction easier, so it shouldn’t be hard to twist it into something you can use for the sake of your – “I think it worked. How do you feel?”

“Like I fucked up,” Tomura says. Fair enough. “And I’m not sorry.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Tomura’s hands slip inside your stolen robe, settling into the same place he was holding on as you rode him. “This isn’t that weird. Mortals do it all the time.”

“Except mortals who get married in Vegas can get divorced,” you point out. Somebody has to play angel’s advocate here, even if you’re already unfolding yourself from seated so you can get into his lap. “We didn’t even make any vows.”

“You did,” Tomura says. “I heard you say it.”

You’re mine. Is that really all it took? It makes a certain kind of sense, when you force yourself to look at it honestly. Mortals almost never doom themselves consciously. It’s always a moment of weakness, a split-second lapse, an instant where desire rules over reason. “Then you can break us up. Since I’m the only one who vowed anything.”

“No way.” Tomura’s lips brush the side of your neck, making your nerves twinge. “I agreed.”

You set your hands on his shoulders and push him backwards, and he goes willingly. The way he’s looking up at you counts as a sin all on its own – crimson eyes half-lidded, pupils already dilating, his cheekbones already dusted with pink. “Did you figure out what you want yet?”

“I have some ideas,” you say. You collect his hands from your waist and pin them on either side of his head, leaning down for a long, slow kiss. “But I’ll start with you.”

[wildemaven]

Came across this on Pinterest and right away thought of your Night School Teacher Javier - even has the opened shirt collar (yes please)

my place or yours | javier peña

pairing - night school teacher!javier peña x night school teacher f!reader word count - 1276 content warning - 18+ blog; just a lot of fluff, reader is mentioned wearing a dress and a necklace- but zero description features, no y/n, established relationship with in this piece notes - K, as soon as I saw this photo, my mind started buzzing! I’ve been on the fence still about writing these two but I wanted to get this out since it came to me so quickly. Thank you for sharing this!!! masterlist

A heat advisory had been issued in Laredo and the surrounding areas for the last week. Your classroom provided little relief for you and your students earlier in the evening as the central air conditioning for the school had gone out days into the heatwave.

It was a combined effort to alleviate some of the warm stagnant air within the old building. You and Javier propped your classroom doors open, while a few open windows supplied a draft across the hall as the evening sun set and the temperature began to drop to a more bearable degree. 

Day 3 of trying to keep your room cool while teaching had you throwing in the white flag. Your students were all too excited at your suggestion to push their test back to next week and dismiss them, welcoming the weekend a whole hour earlier than usual. You wished them a good evening as they eagerly packed away their belongings, bidding their goodbyes as they left your classroom. 

As you were finishing gathering your books and organized stacks of ungraded papers, movement in your peripheral caught your attention. 

Javier moved about the front of his own classroom, his hands alternating between shuffling through the papers he was holding and pointing out key points he had written out on the blackboard. It was a normal sight for you at this point since he moved into the classroom across the hall. These past few days have opened up ample opportunities for you to catch a glimpse of him lost in teaching without a barrier of doors in the way. 

In this moment, Javier was enough of a distraction to halt any progress you had made in cleaning up for the weekend. His sports coat had been discarded and draped over the back of the wooden chair that was left in an off-kilter manner behind his desk. The dark slacks he wore were a snug fit, accentuating his narrow waist. The appearance of his dress shirt had at some point turned from studious refinement to a very relaxed look— the latter being your favorite if you were being honest. The sleeves rolled and secured higher than their normal appearance, his forearms flexed freely without the restraint of the shirt fabric. His deco scallop patterned necktie had been removed and was laying over his sports coat, allowing for the top unbuttoned portion of his shirt to fall open freely. 

You had fallen into a trance, with your eyes glued to the way his neck tensed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke, you hadn’t realized that you were now standing in the doorway of your classroom. 

Javier’s intuition must have sensed something, his steps faltering a bit as his eyes found yours staring at him from across the hall. The way the corner of his eyes crinkled up slightly and his perfect lopsided grin grew just enough to make his dimple a prominent part of his surprised expression. 

There was a beat of silence as Javier stood there taking you in, almost forgetting his students that sat patiently, filling the rows of rigid desks. His brows narrowed as his brain slowly came to the realization that your class was empty and you were no longer teaching. 

He shot you a wink that caused a sudden fluttering sensation to travel from your lower belly and settle in your chest, before giving his attention back to his class and his form disappearing as he stepped further into the room. 

You shoulder into the doorway, your fingers absentmindedly sliding along the dainty gold chain that hangs from your neck as commotion spills from Javier’s room. 

Student after student exit with books wearing a mixture of gleeful laughter and impassive expressions as they fill the hallway walking in the direction of the nearest parking lot. 

Your attention is directed back to the classroom across from you as the flurry of activity dies down.  

“Hi.” Javier says standing with one hand tucked in his front pocket while the other holds a rather large book containing pages and pages of material he has to cover before the end of the semester. 

“Hi.” You smile at him, as your thumb runs back and forth along the seam of your lips. 

“Not like you to let them out—“ Javier begins to say as he removes his hand from his pocket to inspect the time on his watch, eyebrows raised in surprise. “A whole hour early.” His eyes locked back with yours. 

“Oh stop—  It’s too hot to think. They were groaning and getting restless. Besides, you would have done the same thing if you thought of it first.” 

You watch as he makes his way to you, causing you to turn so your back is now leaning against the door frame when he joins you. 

“I let them go, didn’t I?” He smirks. 

“You did. Any longer and they would have been too distracted to hear anything else you were saying.” Your teeth catch your bottom lip in hopes to contain the smirk that’s slowly forming. 

“How so?” His head ticks to the side, hoping you plan to offer him some sort of explanation. 

Before you say anything, your pointer finger finds its way to the opening of his shirt. Gliding up and down the v-shape then settling at the bottom where the first fastened button rests in the middle of his sternum. 

“You’re very distracting like this. Makes sense why there’s always a mad dash of students fighting over those front row seats every night.” 

“Sounds like you know from experience?” His voice is hushed as he steps closer to you, his free hand resting on your hip, the fabric of your dress bunching under his grip. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your finger hooks into his shirt and you pull him even closer to close the gap between your bodies. “We’re alone.” You whisper against his lips, your hand slipping under his shirt, feeling his dewy skin under your fingertips as you wait for him to make the final move. 

With both classrooms now empty, you’re the only two in this wing of the building. 

It had been a few months since things had become more serious for you and Javier. Still wanting to take things slow, you both kept things under wraps for the time being while on school grounds. But that didn’t mean you didn’t take advantage of moments like this when it was just the two of you. 

Javier’s lips meld with yours, atoning for lost time while silently promising to make up for it the rest of the weekend. There’s a loud clatter as his book falls on the ground. His hands find their way to your face, gently tracing the contours as if trying to reacquaint himself with every feature he loves about you. 

“My place or yours?” You break the kiss before it advances into something more, your breath mingling with his. 

“My place has air conditioning.” 

“But my bed is comfier.” You hinted as you traced lightly over his collarbone. “Cold showers never killed anyone.” 

“Not yet at least.” He bends down to pick up his book, then stands to his full height and kisses you briefly one more time. “Your place tonight, then my place tomorrow after breakfast— before it gets too hot.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

“Lock up and get your stuff, I’ll meet you back here in 5.” He pats your ass playfully as he begins the short walk back to his classroom. 

“You’re trouble, Peña.” You quip over your shoulder to him. 

“Last I checked, you loved it.” He says with a wink and smiles at you. 

“I really do.”

[dolljunk]

One of the more interesting collaborations Wicked has done has been with Liberty London, who's known for their floral prints. One of the many things has been this custom Wicked fabric pattern called Dazzling Ozmopolitan.

I really loved the references of the art deco designs overlaid with Liberty London's floral motifs since The Wizard of Oz and Wicked's motifs reference both Art Deco and naturalistic designs. There's a second colourway where it's much more Glinda themed but I personally didn't like it as I felt the greens and golds worked better to reference both Elphaba and the Emerald city.

The minimum yardage was half a yard so it was a bit eye watering to have paid £15 for doll fabric but I must admit the cotton lawn is quite luxurious, and the weight of the fabric works incredibly well for gathered fabrics at doll scale.

The scale was quite large for 1/6th scale but I picked up this fabric knowing I wanted it for my Tonner Wicked Witch who is a 16inch scale doll (I never quite know to refer to it as 1/5 or 1/4 scale).

For the dress inspiration, I was quite enamoured with Teuta Matoshi's dress silhouettes, and both the large print and thin fabric worked incredibly well for the gathered fabric. I also like that Matoshi's work rarely has contrasting trims or bits as the dresses are all about the fabric itself being dreamy.

Her botton ruffle is the full length of the fabric, and with her skirt being half the width of that, I was shocked how well I could intensely gather the fabric at the waist without it being bulky. Usually I go with a circle skirt to reduce bulk at the waist but the cotton lawn is soooo nice.

I'm really happy now my Tonner Wicked Witch has her own special dress made with official Elphaba fabric. I'm usually so hesitant about using special fabric but I had the vision in my mind's eye the moment I touched the fabric, and I'm shocked how nice the dress looks.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The condo on the 31st fl. of this Art Deco building in Kansas City, MO was remodeled in 2011 and everything was custom-made. 2bds, 2ba, 2,271 sq ft, $1.39m + $1,094mo. HOA fee. The price seems pretty reasonable b/c you get the whole top section of the building.

The elevator takes you directly to the foyer of the unit. Love the niche.

I imagine that it wasn't open concept until they remodeled it. They really missed the opportunity to do a cool art deco remodel, though.

The main living area is a living/dining/kitchen combo.

The kitchen's pretty big.

According to the listing, it features hard-do-find woods. It certainly is shiny.

The primary bedroom is very large.

I don't like tufting. Nice doors open to the balcony.

Features a very elegant ensuite.

Vanity table and marble shower.

Big closet/dressing room.

Laundry conveniently near the closet.

The 2nd bedroom is used as an office.

But, it has a Murphy bed for guests.

And, it has a nice ensuite shower room, but again, it's not art deco. Very disappointing.

The entire balcony going around the building belongs to this unit.

It's huge. I often wonder why they only put waist-high railings on these hi-rises, though.

I wonder if anyone lives in the towers. Looks like there's something in them.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/909-Walnut-St-31-Kansas-City-MO-64106/80878812_zpid/

[bebemoon]

major arcana looks: THE FOOL | vintage art deco buttery gold silk empire-waist dress, madomorpho harlequin mesh gloves, madomorpho clown colllar, dilara findikoglu customisable pearl belt in gold (w/ 'f' 'o' 'o' 'l' initial charms added by me<3), fairuza balk's arm tattoos, madomorpho harlequin circus mesh bodysuit, vivienne westwood black wool bicorn hat w/ gold tassel (a/w 1981), gyouree kim "pixie" heels, {beauty} pat mcgrath for maison margiela couture spring 2o24, vintage glass figural clown perfume bottle (c. 192o-3o's), simone rocha mini bell charm hoop earrings

[softspace-fics]

Christmas morning

I'm back! Christmas seemed a great time to come back. I hope you all enjoy. I love y'all, merry Christmas (if you celebrate). If you dont celebrate Christmas, happy holidays, and I hope you have a wonderful day no matter who you are.<3

All my work! - masterlist

Warnings! ⚠️: Pure fluff. CG!Stucky x gn!little reader

_______

The most magical day of the year, the day where the tree glows brighter than all the other days before. Presents all under the tree, just waiting for you to rip off the wrapping paper.

The air felt different, crisper, more welcoming. It felt like the world was just waiting for you to wake. The new items your caregivers and your uncles and aunties had bought you were all snuggled under the christmas tree, just like you lay between your two caregivers.

Your sleepy face smashed into Steve's side while the rest of you was half on the bed and half on Bucky, as if you were the anchor holding the two on the bed. The two held onto you, Steve's arms securely wrapped around your torso, grasping you closely. Bucky had his arm carefully wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your side almost as if he was mimicking your face in Steve's side.

You three slept soundly, as if it wasn't the most magical day of the year for you three. The day to reminisce how the last year was, to give each other shared time and gifts. Sharing food that all of you find special in your own way, whether its from childhood, or things you found together.

The stillness of the morning is only broken by Alpines quiet tussles of movement, and the soft movements of your favorite people. The blankets almost feel warmer as they cover your body, keeping you from the cold of the outside world. Your binkie and your stuffie securely clutched in a hand, just close enough for comfort, but not enough to get in the way of your comfortable place in your caregivers arms.

Your decorations sprawl around the house, lights flickering, the colors of christmas encompass the entirety of your home. Your memories and the feeling of love is shown in every detail. Every drawing of you and your caregivers, the carefully embroidered hearts and decorations you and Aunt Natasha put on your stockings, the vials that are full of small christmas decorations that Uncle Bruce and Tony gave you as a joke in reference to your papa and babas serum. 

The arrows that has snowflakes instead of arrowheads from Uncle Hawkie, a very well thought out deco-pacifier from Aunt Wanda and Uncle Vison, a mini hammer that had your favorite things carved into it from Uncle Thor and well of course, your own spear to rule the world with from Uncle Loki.

Cookies lay in the fridge, waiting for you to pull them out excitedly and beg your caregivers to put them in the oven, while the other makes his specialty, hot chocolate. The food that was prepared the day before waits in the fridge to be made for the group dinner with all of your favorite people. Your to-go bag is all packed and ready with your favorite comfort toys and items, with your essentials along with it. A bag of last minute presents lay comfortably next to your bag, ready to hand out to those they belong to.

The window encases what seems to be a whole other world as the snow falls from the sky softly, swirling like delicate feathers, a glossy film of wonder just through the glass. The wild animals run through the snow, leaving their own trail of home and peace. The trees are covered in white specks, which when the tree move just a bit, the white specks seem to glow just a little more. The sun takes its day to glow dimmer, to shine where those who need it have it.

The day hadn’t even begun and it was perfect, the glowing of lights, the tall beautiful Christmas tree full of ornaments and lights, and the presents secured below. The security of your two caregivers right there when you wake excitedly and cheerfully squeal for the start of the most magical day for your family.

It just awaits for you to open those beautiful eyes, and take a deep breath and smile. The holidays are only once a year, and its the time to enjoy those you have and love those close. Just like your baba and papa are ready to do.

Merry Christmas. <3

[fuyuu-chan]

Wrong Move

Pairing: Liu Zhigang x Reader

Fuyuu-chan: any liu zhigang simps here? just realized there's only a few fics about him so i made one but its just a little drabble hehehe (inspo from @mayaree-darling but the actual scene was from my experience b4 except i dont have a liu in life haha)

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

You were out walking with Liu at night in the town, it was bustling with people and the city lights was vibrant setting the mood, the breeze was refreshing too.

You two were casually walking enjoying your time together after having a dinner when one shop caught your eye, you dragged Liu with you inside to take a look in which he didn't mind, simply following you around.

As you look around the shop, you let go of Liu's hand for a bit to get the item you seem to like. While doing so, since there were quite a few people in that aisle as well, Liu decided to go to the other side so he wouldn't bother the other people who is also looking around.

You were so caught up with the things in front of you, that you didn't notice Liu went to your other side as you unconsciously took the person's arm on your right thinking it was Liu. "Look, this would look cute as a deco-" you stopped talking when you heard stifled laugh on your left that sound all too familiar...you glance at your left and saw Liu holding back his laughter by having his hand on his mouth and that's when you instantly realized your situation.

You quickly looked at your right and sure enough it was a random stranger, you immediately pulled your hand away and bows slightly apologizing a few times, thankfully the stranger didn't mind and was actually nice dismissing it, in which you are grateful. But of course you were still embarrassed.

You looked at Liu and saw his smirk, as if teasing you further, you went to him and gave a playful smack on his shoulder. "I hate you" you said but there's no malice in your tone just embarrassed from the situation a few seconds ago.

Liu chuckles and wrapped his arm around your waist rubbing soft circles, kissing the top of your head. "This is why you shouldn't let go of my hand, especially in a crowded place"

You pouted and said "Well you should have told me you're changing places"

"I just wanna see if you would pay attention to your surroundings, but then I realized how you actually turn off that pretty mind of yours when I'm around" he smirks.

"If you already knew that, then don't test me out" the pout still on your face.

Liu chuckles. "Okay, wont happen again, Bǎobèi" he says softly as he kissed your forehead before looking at the item on your hand. "Do you wanna buy that?"

You nodded as you smile.

"Alright, let's look around to the other aisles in case there's more that caught your eye" he says as he take the item from your hand to carry it as he guide you towards the other shelves.

Your smile widen as you mindlessly follow the way he was leading you to. Liu seems to already know whatever is running through your mind, and that's one of the things you love about him. To have someone who would understand you without being verbal about it.

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Please do not copy, translate, repost to any other Social media, Thank you.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Dolores del Río (Flying Down to Rio, Flor silvestre)—to begin with, dolores is so RADIANTLY BEAUTIFUL, even more so in action then in images, its like she emits a literal glow. marlene dietrich (a close friend and rumored lover) considered her "the most beautiful woman who ever set foot in hollywood". she was the first mexican actress to become a major success in hollywood, rising to fame in the silent era and becoming an influential icon of beauty and glamor in the art deco age, though she was not thrilled with the exoticizing parts often pushed on her. in the mid 1940s having tired of the controlling hollywood studio system she returned to mexico, saying "I wish to choose my own stories, my own director and cameraman. I can accomplish this better in mexico", and proceeded to become a pivotal figure in the golden age of mexican cinema, making a string of masterpieces with directir emilio fernández and cinematographer gabriel figueroa. i love this anecdote about the insane art deco mansion she and her then-husband cedric gibbons lived in in the 30s, as related by david niven: "Dolores had a large sunny room on the first floor containing a huge and inviting bed. Gibbons lived in comparative squalor in a small room immediately below. The only connection between these rooms was by way of a stepladder, which could be lowered only when a trapdoor in the floor of Dolores room had been raised. There was a long stick with which, we conjectured, he signaled his intention or hopes by rapping out signals on the floor of his wife’s bedchamber." heres a pinterest album with a billion hot pictures of her

Fay Wray (King Kong)— the original scream queen!! she started acting in silent comedies as a teenager and got her first big break when erich von stroheim cast her as the lead in the wedding march. her career started to take off starring in silent movies at paramount, and she survived the transition to sound smoothly - josef von sternberg’s weird proto-noir thunderbolt was one of her first sound films. she began to make horror movies in the early 1930s, such as doctor x and mystery of the wax museum, both filmed in beautiful two-strip technicolor (which looked like this if you're curious. i just think it's neat!), as well as the vampire bat, the most dangerous game, and of course the boy himself, king kong. a little on how she worked with her most famous costar: “Although Kong appeared huge, the full figure was a model covered with rabbit hair, standing only 18 inches tall, that was filmed one frame at a time by stop-motion photography artist Willis O'Brien and his crew. The 5ft 3in Wray only knew one part of the ape's body when she was grasped in an articulated 8ft long hand. Hence the title of her 1989 autobiography, On The Other Hand. ‘I would stand on the floor,’ she recalled, ‘and they would bring this arm down and cinch it around my waist, then pull me up in the air. Every time I moved, one of the fingers would loosen, so it would look like I was trying to get away. Actually, I was trying not to slip through his hand.’” (link)

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Dolores del Rio:

There's so much! She started in Silent films and successfully transitioned to sound, She is the first woman to wear a two piece swimsuit on screen & popularized the bikini!, She transitioned back to Mexican Cinema in the late 1940s and was a leading lady of the Golden Age of Mexican Cinema including staring in Maria Candelaria--the first Mexican film to win the palm d'Or at Cannes. She was literally studied for her beauty & was considered a beauty ideal in both the USA & Mexico--there's a whole section on her Wikipedia page about how beautiful everyone thinks she was. She never actually had a feud with any of the female stars she was rumored to feud with despite the fact that press & Hollywood culture attempted to pain them in competition... She remained a leader in Mexican theater & Cinema through her own production company. Mexican painter Diego Rivera: "The most beautiful, the most gorgeous of the west, east, north and south. I'm in love with her as 40 million Mexicans and 120 million Americans who can't be wrong" (quote source: Wikipedia)

*fan self* Leading actress in silents and early Hollywood. Lover of Orson Welles until she got fed up with him, friend of Diego Rivera and Frieda Kahlo. When she got tired of Hollywood executives typecasting her as a stereotypical spitfire (and trying to force her to feud with Lupe Velez as a publicity stunt), she ditched Hollywood and became a major star of Mexican cinema, where she got to play rounded characters

Had a career in American cinema in the 20s and 30s and considered one of the most important figures in the Golden Age of Mexican cinema (30s to 50s).

Marlene Dietrich said Dolores was the most beautiful woman to set foot in Hollywood

Joan Crawford: "Dolores became, and remains, as one of the most beautiful stars in the world."

One of the few Latin American women working in the Hollywood industry to make it big not just in hre home country but internationally. In 1931, Photoplay magazine declared that Mexican film actress Dolores del Rio had the "best figure in Hollywood." (which I know not necessarily a good barometer) but! it shows that many people looked at her for her beauty and sought to emulate her. Famous for her years-long love affair with actor and director Orson Welles, who was 10 years her junior if that's anything.

We need more hispanic representation in this!! Del Río is one of the most important actresses of her time as she was one of the first Mexican movie stars to break through to Hollywood! She’s unbelievably sexy and an absolute icon. Thank you :)

Fay Wray:

Actress prominently known for starring in horror, she was one of cinema's original "scream queens". She knocks it out of the park whenever she's with the horror genre, bringing a depth and likability to characters that would other be flat and boring characters.

An early scream queen, name me another woman who could look so beautiful while so disheveled and scared for her life

She was name-dropped not once but TWICE in the Rocky Horror Picture Show. She's arguably the original Scream Queen.

[vintagefashionplates]

Egyptian Revival Art Deco evening dress, 1926 by Jenny

Short dress in gold lamé decorated with embroidery of transparent pearls with turquoise and pink cores, transparent tubes with metal cores, flat turquoise and pink balls, faceted golden olivettes and salmon pearls, forming a decoration composed of stylized flowers with Egyptian-influenced lotus, V-neckline in front and back, sleeveless, low waist, straight, belt highlighted with pearls, panel on the left side finished with a pearl fringe.

The couturier Jenny made this dress for herself.

Palais Galliera, Fashion Museum of the City of Paris. (x)

[hyunjin1e]

ART DECO, pedri

summary: admiring your pretty boyfriend.

warnings: fluff.

please send in requests!!

“YOU’VE BEEN looking at me for the past 10 minutes, now.” your boyfriend, pedri, chuckled, feeling warm under your gaze.

“you’re so pretty.” you just shrugged, your palm under your chin, holding your face up.

pedri blushed, smiling shyly.

“you know, i’m the one that’s supposed to be calling you pretty?” he questioned.

“well, i guess i stole your job.” you laughed.

“come here,” pedri moved away from the dinner table, making you do the same.

you walked round the table, taking the hand he was holding for you.

“where are we going?” he didn’t answer.

after a few minutes, he spoke.

“we are going upstairs.” he smiled.

“upstairs? why?” you still had to tidy up the dinner you guys ate.

“cuddle. take a break from tidying the house.” he simply answered.

“but i have to-” he cut you off.

“no. come here.”

he laid the both of you down, a candle was lit up on the night stand, music playing quietly from a speaker.

you both were on your sides, looking at eachother.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that.” you chuckled.

“i’m just admiring my pretty girlfriend.” his eyes were shaped into hearts, a smile playing on his lips for the past hour or more.

“hey, that’s my job!”

“i guess i stole ‘your job’” he quoted you from earlier.

“no but seriously, tu eres hermosa.” pedri said, his eyes scanning your whole face, mesmerised.

“y tu eres guapo.” you said, being caught with a yawn.

“tired?” your boyfriend chuckled, his eyes having a little crease in them.

you hummed, closing your eyes, and shuffling even closer to him.

he threw his arm over your waist, bringing you close.

“buenas noches, amor.” he whispered into your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine.

“buenas noches, pepi.”

[achronalart]

Lately I've been looking at the years right after the world financial crash, 1929 through about 1934, for ... reasons >.>

Magazines from the 1920s and early 30s are so interesting!

I love the Art Deco aesthetic, the illustrations, the fascinating and often weird ads, and not least, the fashions...

Fashion illustrations from the August 1931 "Delineator" Magazine, which sold paper patterns for Butterick.

"CHALK WHITE LEADS AT SMARTEST SUMMER PARTIES"

Three white women with very short, waved hair in sleeveless v-necked ankle-length evening dresses.

First, a white satin dress with thin shoulder straps and seams shaped like an "X" wrapping around the hips. She wears a matching belt and three bangle bracelets and a ring, all on her right hand.

Text: "POURED IN'' 4039 This is the way the smartest new dance frocks make one look -- they're sleek and fitted to the nth degree. This white satin dress has the diamond yoke that seen in many new fall models, and décolletage takes the same line.

Second, a dress with thin shoulder straps, a peplum (very short skirt or long ruffle) at the waist, and a self bow. She wears an elaborate jeweled necklace and long dark gloves that extend above the elbow.

Text: STIFFENED PEPLUM 4026 The crinolined peplum makes this frock especially the dress for youth. We suggest white taffeta because it is one of the youngest of evening fabrics and because youth wears it so well. Ankle length for dancing and deep V at back. Very simple to make.

Third, a dark lace dress worn over a visible colored slip with a straight-across neckline, 1920s style. There's a matching belt with a flower on the left. She also wears a simple short pearl necklace and medium short dark gloves pushed up to rumple at the wrists.

Text: SKIRTS DROP BEHIND 4041 The Paris openings showed many evening frocks with skirts longer in back than in front. This lace gown illustrates just how much longer. Plenty of flare below flat, slim hips. It's a gown with which to wear Molyneux' new shaded slip, for a very lovely effect.