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peachypinkygloss · 8 months

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dior girl ✰ park jimin

Park Jimin is one of a kind. When he wants something, he gets it, no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands. But this man has absolutely no morals.

୨୧ pairing: designer!jimin x model/fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to lovers, age gap (21 & 38), smut, slight angst

୨୧ word count: 8.1k

୨୧ warnings: unrealistic depiction of the fashion industry, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, manipulation & corruption, jimin isn't a good person (especially not to oc lol <3), violent sexual thoughts, jimin's a sadist (my fav headcannon :D), heavy dom/sub dynamics, hard dom!jimin, unprotected vaginal & anal sex, anal play (use of a buttplug), my new headcannon: jimin likes giving anal, dacryphilia, praising & degradation, oral sex (m), face fucking, aftercare ig because yes jimin's a sadist but he still has a heart.

a.n.: yup so idk if you guys were expecting that... but i did say none of the characters were ethical lmfao so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i really, really hope you like the first part, i've worked hard on it even though it's not super long. so please, reblog and tell me what you thought about it! <3 as always, don't like, don't read.

[dior girl moodboard] ["older" masterlist]

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place in the world he can spend hours in without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio it feels like the time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, and the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's designing.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and also of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of the dress. At some point it was consuming his entire mind, this dress the only design he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally creating it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever made. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Jimin is. It's going to be the design of the year — of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of the design. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and who radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Jimin still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Jimin when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. "Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims, Jimin immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Sungwoon. "I have someone to introduce you."

Jimin raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Sungwoon who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he doesn't really care about the many girls Sungwoon brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Jimin turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Sungwoon's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs — the one he wants and has to ruin.

Sungwoon introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Sungwoon raises his eyebrows in Jimin's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Sungwoon before glancing back at Jimin who still hasn't looked away from you. "I've been a big fan of your work since I was a little kid, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt while you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jimin says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile — stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it useless. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him because you're so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Sungwoon begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." You giggle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Jimin as if waiting for some praises.

Jimin faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you first. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, to kiss, to fuck, to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

T H E N

"Careful," Jimin softly says as he catches you up from falling on the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost fall a second time. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Jimin looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Jimin knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol since you're on a very strict diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just one glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the glasses of wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Jimin himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you've noticed nothing and gulped everything. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Jimin assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

Years and years of training, countless sleepless nights, meals that are as nutritious as birds seed... All of the efforts in the world to have your biggest dream stolen by a model who is in the industry for less than six months.

Their rage is understandable, but Jimin couldn't care less. In fact, everything is going as planned and he can't fuck things up now. No, because if he does, all of the things he has done until now will be completely irrelevant.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Jimin announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" A stylist asks.

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them at the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Jimin sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper — a secret, a confession only you can hear. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Jimin will fix your mistakes. Your foolish mistakes, done by the carefree of a twenty-one year old.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter and tighter til suffocation.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks — he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Jimin as if his simple presence will make all of your problems fly away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Jimin everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, crumpling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Jimin breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Jimin will make you walk the runway wearing his dress — the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Jimin softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." You begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Jimin wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. And all while thinking of him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Jimin," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Jimin purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Jimin stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit looser than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock — though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before — smacked your ass hard til you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Jimin wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much — with all your pathetic being — and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiple lines, and being the poor, sad girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice that has you mewling, sounding so smooth and sweet. "How about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Jimin brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you out, sinking in gradually as Jimin holds your cheeks apart.

"Mmh, feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Jimin.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, making it jiggle from the harsh hit.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his big bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Jimin genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way — though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping against his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Jimin holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin stinging after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head of his penis between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Jimin. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his plump lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls deliciously enveloping his hard cock tightly.

You moan in unison as he bottoms out in you, his balls touching your wet and warm pussy. He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your head and shoves it against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body — as well as on your mind and your soul.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace — fucking is never soft or loving with Jimin, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. And you've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Jimin whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, ravished and delighted to have his girthy cock sliding against your velvety walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head against the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Jimin's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and on the covers. Your pussy swallows all of his girth, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You crumple the bed sheets between your little fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Jimin and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers, the coldness of his silver rings contrasting with the hotness of your sweaty skin. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Jimin controls you — that he controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy rapidly, as he holds you by the throat, lewdly licking a long stripe along the side of your face.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your delicate arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers dirty things to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so bad like the slut that you are," he mouths the words against your hair, cock pulsing hard in your cunt.

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy.

You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud, circling it sensually and slowly, the complete opposite of his hip thrusts.

"Yes, want to please you, Jimin," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on your pussy. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you are of him, how impossible it is for you to live without him to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet his in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your now soppy and messy pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around his girth once again. Your little hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Jimin lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Jimin slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and defined abs. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only things remaining on him being his rings and the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction — more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked too because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Jimin is imposing, his cock thick and girthy enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator had caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, thick and veiny, your hole pathetically quivering — missing his size stretching out your pussy.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath sweetheart," Jimin instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaks from your pussy. His erect cock is just so close to it and Jimin could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his engorged erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, that he's staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush to his penis at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it — he needs it. Accuse him for having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him for everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more pressure to your ass hole. "Can you, baby?" Jimin asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes, what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut, your instinct thinking it'll protect you.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails in the flesh of his biceps — only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass..."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Jimin groans at that, stuffing more of himself in your hole. "Good girl," he praises, voice raspy, ending with a deep grunt.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used to prepare yourself. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Jimin can't help but be turned on, leaning in to kiss your face and collect some of your tears, tasting the saltiness of them on his tongue.

"Jimin...!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful gaze, tears rolling down your face. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks air through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, descending to your collarbones and groping your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

He wouldn't go too far to hurt you. The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependant on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Jimin because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. The cool sensation of his rings on your stomach makes you shiver, his finger gently circling your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His cock slides in your hole back and forth, your ass slowly but surely taking the size of girth. Many curses leave Jimin's mouth, your ass probably the best he's ever fucked. You feel so good around him, you're tight, but you loosen easily, making it so, so pleasurable for him.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all you can respond, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin splits your ass open, fucking his thick cock into you. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his skin.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place — always letting you know that he is always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Jimin bottoms out. It starts feeling good for you — really good — and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fist and sinking your nails into the flesh of his back.

He backs away from you a little, his plump lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lowly groans, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You enjoy the sensations of his pulsing veins under your small fingers as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, staring into Jimin's dark eyes.

"Jimin..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Jimin takes the opportunity to smooch your neck again as you expose it to him, his full lips delicately pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby," he groans in your ear, gritting his teeth as he feels his balls tightening.

He slowly halts his hips movements, letting out heavy breaths as he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, Jimin raising himself up from you and getting out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Jimin commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees after.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Jimin's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the hotel room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Jimin, allowing him to stuff your mouth full of his cock. He looks down at you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. He still holds the back of your head with one hand, guiding you over his stiff erection and you moan obscenely around Jimin, drool dripping down on your chin.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take the whole thing each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, making it more pleasurable for him. "You're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said. It sends deliciously vibrations through his entire body, the sounds of your moans and hearing you gag around him is so arousing to him. He wants to hear more so he literally uses your mouth like a toy, snapping his hips against you, his balls slapping your chin.

He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks now damp and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes stinging as Jimin fucks your throat like a mad man.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Jimin's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Jimin's moans and the feeling of his stiff cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger flickering over your sensitive bud smoothly because of your arousal.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Jimin can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. He stops thrusting in you. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Jimin penetrates your pussy a second time, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed by him right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly you feel your skin stinging. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Jimin suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your pussy.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your clitoral orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your hole clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep into you. He empties himself in your wet cunt, cumming just after you.

When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering it in his creamy cum. You moan at the warm sensation, always loving how it feels both in and on you. Some of his seeds dribble out of you, dripping down to your ass.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made on you. He stares up at your face, seeing how fucked up you look, hair in a nest and eyes reddened.

Later, Jimin is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his design, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about all of that that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Jimin.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Jimin knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, to take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his — solely and completely his.

"Jimin?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

A F T E R

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Jimin was satisfied to see that his name stood out among everyone else's, being called more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you had contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Jimin needed.

But everything has an end, doesn't it?

When Jimin comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, watching the city living at night while it's raining. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that has happened the past weeks in your small head.

It was going to happen soon enough anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Jimin was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one for dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with Jimin's sabotage or not. He did you a favour, you should be thankful.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Jimin was feeding you. The bottle of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

Some people can, others can't and you're one of them. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, already knowing he's walking up to you without looking. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Jimin comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed til the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you — close all of your past wounds and create other ones.

He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you — he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

๑♡՞

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themidnightcrimson · 1 year

Text

tarot ࿏ wm

summary: in which you visit a psychic for a tarot card reading and find that her tricks seem too real.

words: 4.9K

warnings: dark!wanda, fem!reader, non-con/dubcon, tummy riding, scissoring, dildo (r receiving), size kink, use of magic for mind manipulation, dumbification, degradation

this post is a dark!fic and is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

The loose rocks of the pavement scuffed under your heel as you mindlessly kicked them with your shoe, taking a long, slow drag from the cigarette. It was cold that night, and the smoke that you exhaled through your lips was dense with the fog from your warm breath.

Nat reached forward and took the cigarette that you were sharing from your fingers. “It’s been months, y/n.” Her leather jacket squeaked as she curled her arm to bring the cigarette to her lips. The air was damp and the music from the bar muffled as Nat leaned against her truck. “I don’t mean to be that friend who just tells you to just get over it and move on, but just get over it and move on.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved your numb fingers into the pockets of your coat. “I have moved on.”

Nat squinted at you as she turned the cigarette back to you, and you took it, breathing in the smoke she exhaled. “You fled the bar as soon as you saw her across the room.”

You glanced around, hoping that your ex was still inside and nowhere near you. It had been two months since the nasty and dramatic breakup between you and the woman you had been with for over three years. It was sudden and unexpected, and she really gave you no other reason for it besides “I think we should see other people.” You knew that meant she had been or planned to cheat on you, which just made the entire ordeal even more sickening.

“Is it so bad that I don’t want to be around the person who dumped me after three years together? I mean, c’mon, maybe two months is a long time for you but on the time scale of relationships, it’s still very fresh to me.”

“Aha! So you haven’t moved on, like I said,” Nat countered, taking the cigarette right as you were about to take a second draw.

“No, I—I have moved on. I mean, I don’t care about her anymore. It’s not like I still love her. It just hurts seeing her.” You tried to explain it the best you could. You truly did not love her anymore and would never even fantasize or contemplate getting back with her after how crudely she had left you, but seeing her reminded you of all the hurtful words she had said and how she had betrayed your trust so cruelly. It was a reminder that you were heartbroken.

Nat only nodded, looking down at the pavement and crossing her legs. There were a few beats of silence as you stared up at the full moon and she stared at the side of your face. “You know, I would say you should try therapy, but why waste a thousand dollars when you could get a psychic reading for 20 bucks.”

“Huh?” You turned to look at her incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

Nat shrugged and handed you the cigarette. “Maybe to give you some clarity, or the closure that she never gave you. You know I don’t believe in all that holistic spiritual shit, but I do think something like a tarot card reading could help you move forward, even if it’s just by placebo effect.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “I mean, they tell you what you want to hear. It’s fake, you know. They figure out what you’re in there for and they tell you everything they can so that you leave with a smile on your face and their pockets full. Nonetheless, it’s some pretty good bullshit they spew. Better than anything I could tell you, with how shit I am at words.” She kicked at the rocks and chuckled. “It’s either that or going to church.”

You raised your eyebrows and laughed. “Church makes a psychic reading sound like heaven.”

“There’s one in town, you know?” she added, turning and pointing West. “Down at the end of Ellis Avenue.”

“Ellis Avenue?” you echoed. In all the years of your life you had lived in that small town, you’d never heard of that street. “What’s down there?”

“A shit load of nothing. It’s where the town turns into all woods. But I know there’s a tiny psychic shop down there. It’s got a purple sign that says 20 dollars for a tarot card reading.”

“Tarot cards,” you laughed. “Why have I never heard of it?”

“It used to be owned by some lady named Agatha, but there’s a new woman there now that took her place. Wendy, I think she’s called. Wait, no—Wanda! That’s it.”

“Wanda,” you sounded out the name, and you noticed how the wind picked up and caught the word from your lips, whistling it into the air eerily. “That’s a fitting name for a psychic.”

Nat flicked the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with her boot, rocks crackling under her heel. “You should go tonight. I’m sure it stays open pretty late.”

You glanced back to the bar, knowing that your ex was somewhere still inside. You certainly weren’t going back in there, and Natasha didn’t seem like she was willing to go home yet, so your only other options were to either go home and sleep or go test out this psychic.

“Fine,” you finally said, digging your car keys out of your pockets. “I’ll go check it out.”

Nat hesitated suddenly. “Well, actually it’s a little late. Maybe we can go tomorrow, and I’ll go with you.”

You were already walking to your car. “I’m not getting any sleep tonight after seeing her, anyway. I might as well just go.”

Nat looked around and scratched her head. “Well, just be safe. There really is nothing on that end of town, and I have no idea who this woman is. Keep your phone on you and text me when you get there and when you leave.”

“Okay, mother,” you joked, to which she grinned. You waved her goodbye and got in your car, watching as Nat walked back into the bar.

“Ellis Avenue,” you whispered as you typed the words into the map app on your phone. Nothing came up. “Huh?” You deleted it and typed it again, but still nothing showed. Did Nat get the name wrong?

You glanced out your window in the direction that Nat had pointed. She said it was on the far West end of town, where the woods started. You supposed you could just drive around until you found it—the town was too incredibly small for you to not find it. You imagined that you were so used to the town that you never looked hard enough to notice new things, and that’s why you had never seen the shop before.

Buckling up, you pulled out of the bar and onto the road. You drove West across town, taking a few turns that you knew would lead you to the woods. After a while of seeing nothing, you thought maybe Nat was pranking you, but finally, you saw a dingy street sign that read Ellis Avenue and a tiny little shop with a purple sign that read $20 for tarot card reading above a hand with an eye in the palm.

There were no cars in the parking lot. The place barely looked open if it weren’t for the blinking purple sign. You paused, wondering if this was really safe. It was late at night, and this shop was way out of town, alone and isolated on a road where there were no other shops or houses.

It seemed intriguing, though. As you stopped in the middle of the road and stared at the shop, you felt something pulling you towards it. Maybe it was the universe telling you that this was going to be good for you, that whatever this psychic could tell you would be the key to unlocking your grief and moving forward with your life. Whether it was placebo or not, maybe this would help you be in the same room as your ex without freaking out and fleeing.

Trusting what you believed to be your intuition, you cut your wheel and turned into the gravel driveway, your headlights reflecting off the dark tinted front windows. Shutting off your car, you walked up the crickety front steps to the door. You paused, feeling almost as if you should knock before entering. Considering that it was a public shop, you just helped yourself inside, gently opening the door to be met with the intensely strong smell of incense.

A cough scratched at your throat as you stepped inside and closed the door. The air was smoky from an incense stick burning in the corner and from probably two dozen candles burning all around the room. Your eyebrows sewed together as you looked around curiously.

Everywhere you looked were little trinkets and whatnots—crystals of varying sizes and shapes and colors, tiny bottles of strange colored liquids, little jars filled with herbs and flowers and sealed shut with melted wax, bundles of sage and other herbs and leaves, and other little things that you could not recognize. Whoever this psychic was, she truly put on the act and made her shop part of the show. It would be impossible for someone to walk in and not feel like they were being handled by someone who knew what they were doing in the realm of spirituality.

You jumped when you heard a shifting sound, your eyes flickering to a curtain of beads that separated this room and another. Through the curtain that was parted by a ringed hand came a woman, a young woman with long brown curls and smokey green eyes.

“Hello,” she greeted you with a low, accented voice. “How may I be of service to you tonight?” Her voice was pleasant but careful, and her narrowed eyes looked you up and down as if she were suspicious of you.

“Hi,” you squeaked, knowing how silly you probably looked standing in her room of witchy tools. She wore a black dress with a red scarf wrapped around her arms, her fingers fiddling together as she neared you. “Um, are you Wendy—I mean, Wanda?”

An amused look crossed her eyes. “I am. And you’re y/n.”

Your spine jumped out of your skin. How did she know your name? You looked down at yourself, wondering if maybe your wallet was hanging out and showing your ID, but there was no reason she could have known your name. You chalked it up to it just being a small town and everybody knowing everybody. “Yeah.”

“Sit,” she spoke, gesturing to the table sat in the center of the room with candles lining it. You saw a crimson set of tarot cards sitting perfectly on the tabletop. “You’re here for a tarot card reading.” She simply said it rather than asking it.

“I suppose,” you slowly began, feeling your nerves tingling. You tried to remind yourself that psychics were like magicians. They used tricks you were unaware of to make it look like they can read your mind or have supernatural abilities.

You carefully sat down at the circular table, and once you were sitting, she gracefully sat down opposite from you, letting the red scarf slip off her arms and hang over the seat of her chair. The smell of the incense was almost nauseating as you watched her fingers take the tarot cards and begin shuffling them expertly.

The silence was loud as she eyed you while shuffling. You supposed she was pretending to look hard into your mind, so you just stared back at her.

“It must have been hard seeing your ex at the bar,” she said simply as she started to cut the deck into thirds. Her hands were moving so swiftly you couldn’t keep up with them, only seeing a blur of rings and cards.

Your lips parted in shock. “Um… I know you’re a ‘psychic’ or whatever, but how the hell did you know that?”

She didn’t answer you. She laid the cards into three decks in front of you and then withdrew her hands, leaning back in her seat. You noticed then how quiet and solitary the shop was, how intimate with its low lighting and flickering candles and smoke.

“Draw the top card from each pile,” she instructed, a sultry tone in her voice.

You wanted to press her question further, but you reached forward and took the top card from each pile as she said, laying them face-down on the table in front of you. When you were finished, she slid the remaining piles to the side and flipped over the first card to your left. You were confused when you saw that the card was upside down.

“The Chariot,” she read, her eyes blinking thoughtfully. “Reversed. Your future has been carried away from you.”

You tried not to scoff, but she noticed anyway, sharply eyeing you and pursing her lips. She continued anyway, flipping over the second card which was upright.

“Death.”

Your heart started to pound in your chest, your brain already calculating what that card meant. It was eerie, the way it looked, drawn in a smudgy black and white sketch of a body laying dead on the ground and a horseback knight, assumedly the murderer, jumping high over its victim.

“Your relationship ended abruptly, and you find grief a difficult transition.”

You still did not know how she knew you had been through a breakup, but maybe it was an easy guess for a young girl walking into a psychic shop. A part of you, a very gullible part, started to wonder if maybe she really was a psychic.

Finally, she turned over the last card. Chills pierced your spine as you recognized the Satanic image on the card—Baphomet, a horned man, drawn with an unnerving smile over the words The Devil.

“Ah,” she smiled, her lips curling into a pearly smile that caught your eye. She was a beautiful feigned sorceress, that was for sure. “You’ve been tricked.”

Your face scrunched at her words. “Tricked? How?” You were genuinely curious what she meant, even if you were starting to fall for her illusions.

She paused for a thoughtful moment, fiddling with the rings on her fingers as she stared at the card. “She was judgmental, wasn’t she?”

You held your breath, silently urging her to go on.

“She made you feel ashamed of yourself and manipulated you into thinking you were nothing without her. She even made you feel like you were unworthy of her love, though she suffocated you with it before taking it away abruptly. She tricked you into thinking you could not breathe without her, and then she took away your oxygen. And you didn’t even know it was happening, did you, detka?”

She was staring at you now, her misty eyes gazing into your own. A drowsy feeling overtook you, and you couldn’t keep hold of your thoughts. They were rushing past you, plucked just before you could think them, scrambled out of your reach. You didn’t know it was the crimson glow on her fingertips under the table giving you this blank and dazed feeling.

“I…” you trailed, your head starting to pound. “How did you…”

“I am a psychic,” she spoke, and her voice started to sound far away from you, though she was sitting just across the small table. “Says it on the door. You knew it before you came in.”

Tilting your head, you squinted at her, your mouth forming words that your brain would not let your tongue speak. Suddenly, you felt like you had forgotten completely how to speak.

It was then that every candle in the room except for the few on the table were snuffed suddenly by a gushing wind that tickled your hair across your cheek. In the dark, under the glow of the table’s remaining candles, you saw a scarlet light in her eyes.

“You… you’re…”

“I am everything you think I am and more,” she interrupted you. “And you are more than you think.” She leaned forward, bringing her hand out of the table. You watched as she twisted and curled her fingers around in the air, sparkly red magic dancing between them as she scrambled your brain with a tilted head and a curious stare.

Suddenly, flashing memories of your ex passed through your mind. The fights, the arguments, the words you had pushed down and forgotten about under your ex’s manipulative gaslighting.

Wanda spoke, “She made you think the relationship was perfect so you would stay with her for as long as she wanted you, and so that when she didn’t want you anymore, she got to have the upper hand while you suffered. Evil little cunt.”

“That’s not true—”

“I’m seeing it right here, detka.” She twisted her fingers, and the moments were clear in your mind. Your head started to feel fuzzy, your vision dim as you gripped the table, losing all sense of balance like you might fall right out of the chair. “How could someone treat a perfect little kitten like that? Take you for granted so, and leave you out on the road like a discarded dog.”

Now your heart was starting to hurt as much as your head, and before you realized it, you were crying. The smell of incense was burning hard through your nostrils as the witch picked her way through your brain and scrambled the rest. She was surprised at how easy it was to get in your head from the moment you had walked through the front door. She heard your thoughts before she even stepped in the room and looked at you. Now, seeing how easily a non-magical human had broken you down, she gleamed at the thought of how easy it would be for her and her powers to dumb you down even further.

“Stand up.”

Control over your own body was way past you. You moved at her words, standing sharply to your feet. She grinned in satisfaction and stood slowly, walking towards the curtain of beads she had first came through. She didn’t even have to speak or move her fingers for you to follow, floating mindlessly after her through the long strings of beads into the next room.

The back room was small, a sort of bedroom with a crimson velvet bed and a few pieces of furniture. More candles were lit back there, and the smell of incense was even stronger.

“Take off your clothes, detka, and lay down.”

Your body submitted to her voice. Mind far from matter, you peeled your own clothes away until you were bare naked and laid down on the bed, feeling the velvety red sheets on your nude skin.

Wanda sauntered towards the end of the bed, feasting upon your nudity with her darkened orbs. Her hands sinking into the mattress, she crawled on all fours onto the bed and towards you. You couldn’t describe what it was you were feeling. The state of your mind was both entranced and clear, sunk deep into murky waters while also soaring high in the clouds. It felt like static buzzing within and around you, and between blimps of momentary unconsciousness you suddenly saw that Wanda was now straddling you, her short black dress resting high on her thighs. You could feel her bare pussy resting on your lower stomach, her hands gliding across your upper abdomen.

“The most perfect thing to have fallen in my hands,” she whispered, her hands snaking over your tits and squeezing them eagerly. A whine escaped your throat, and she looked surprised to see that you were still present. “Still with me, detka? Let’s have a little fun before you go. I like playing with my new toys right out of the package.”

Her magic infiltrating your conscience was hot and feverish like fire, like bits of ember and ash sizzling away at the mass of your cognizance. It trickled down through your skull like lava and burned the inside of your throat. What piece of you was still there tried to file through which exact moment it was that she caught you—as soon as you walked in? When you inhaled the strong incense? Or was it when you sat at the table? Or when you touched the cards? Was it the very moment when you stopped your car in the middle of the road and stared at the blinking purple sign? Could it possibly be the very moment that you looked up at the full moon outside the bar as Nat told you about this place? Which moment was it that she found her way inside your head and stapled the roots of her magic to your mind?

It felt like you were lucid dreaming as the witch’s hands scoured your body, groping at your tits, squeezing the soft flesh of your waist, tickling over your collarbones and neck. You felt pressure on your lower tummy and saw that she was grinding her bare cunt against you, her wetness sliding easily over your skin.

“Silly puppy,” she taunted with a sharp laugh, her hands fondling your breasts as she undulated her hips against you, skirt catching on your waist. Your skin was growing sweaty under her fingers as her magic coursed through your blood like a venomous infection. “A witch doesn’t reveal her tricks, does she?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she let out a soft moan, grinding harder on your stomach as she pinched and tugged harshly at your nipples. Your body reacted with a small gasp and a jolt through your muscles, and she smiled.

Lifting up, she backed herself between your legs and then spread them open wide at an angle, casting one leg over yours. Your breathing picked up as she pressed her clit against yours, grinding her cunt into you.

“Fuck, puppy,” she moaned, throwing her head back as dirty squelching noises filled the room. You were wetter than you had realized, and it was evident by the feeling of both yours and Wanda’s juices mixing together. She pushed your hips upward so that she was at a better angle, halfway folding your body as she used your pussy to get herself off. A drop of your mixed wetness started to slide down your tummy, running over the spot that was still wet from when she had grinded herself there.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, detka,” she grunted, her eyebrows sewing together as the bed started to squeak with her motions. “You just be a good toy and let me use you, and I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to worry about your ex anymore, or your job, or your friends, or even your life. It’s in my hands now.”

Her feelings of pleasure allowed her focus to slip momentarily, and you took the opportunity to string together words of your own will, still struggling to speak. “P-Please,” you said coarsely, looking at her with pleading eyes. She knew exactly what you meant, because she was inside you with her own mind in yours, and she could feel that coil of pressure in your belly, and you could feel hers, too.

She grinned, grinding her clit harder against yours, reaching up to pinch at your nipples. Your body squirmed, teeth piercing into your own lip as a moan escaped your throat, heavenly pleasure washing over you in an orgasm like a warm ocean wave. Wanda moaned and her hips stuttered as she came, her hand that was holding your leg up squeezing your flesh painfully.

She panted as she came down, and you thought maybe that would satisfy her and she would let you go, but now she was crawling down between your open legs and shoving her face between them.

“Ah!” you whined as her tongue lapped over your throbbing clit, slipping down to push deep inside you and tasting you there. Your body reacted outside of your control, trying to jerk away.

“Be still,” she ordered in a whisper, and your body commanded like a machine, stilling as she continued lapping at your sensitive clit. She suckled and pulled away to spit right on your slit before returning her mouth to you again.

“W-Wanda,” you mouthed, hands squeezing at the sheets as another coil of pressure sprung within your belly. It tightened and tightened as she devoured you, and before you knew it, you were blinded with another orgasm, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling open as you cried out.

Coming back up, she licked her lips and moaned at your taste, wiping your remnants from her mouth and spreading it over your belly. Your legs were trembling now, clit throbbing painfully, but by the look in her eyes, she was not done.

“You saw all my toys in there,” she spoke as she leaned over you to reach to the nighstand beside the bed, one of her necklaces tickling your nose in a cool metal graze. “But I keep some in here for special pets like you.”

Dumbed down, you didn’t know what she meant until, after hearing her open a drawer and rummage around, she kneeled back down between your legs, holding an uncomfortably large dildo in her hands.

You had the urge to jump off the bed and run away, but her magic had been keeping you pinned to the bed this whole time. You watched with wide eyes as she spit on the dildo and smeared her saliva around it, lowering herself down between your legs again and running the tip of the toy through your folds. Jolts of electricity went through you at the touch on your overstimulated pussy, your voice strings cracking together to sound out a pathetic whine.

“If you’re going to be a good toy, you will take whatever I give you,” she whispered, eyes concentrated on your bright red clit and the way your wet folds moved around the dildo as she teased it through them. “Be a good pet.”

She pushed the tip into your entrance, and for a moment, pleasure coursed through you, but as she pushed it in further and your hole ached to stretch around its girth, you cried out, “T-too b…big.”

“Take it, my dirty slut,” she husked, grabbing your thigh and jerking your legs open wider. Sharp pain filled you as she stuffed your pussy full of the dildo, sinking it all the way inside until the hilt touched your skin, and the tip of it was braced against your cervix. Your mouth fell open at how full you felt, how deep it was, at how much your walls ached and throbbed around it. “That’s it,” she praised, “That’s so good, detka.”

She eased it out, earning a hiss from you, and then forced it back in, doing this slowly until the resistance eased and she started to thrust it harshly into you.

“Look at you, taking the whole thing,” she spoke as she grabbed your knees with her free hand and bent them against your stomach so she could fuck you deeper. Using her magic to keep your knees bent, she placed her free hand on your clit and started to rub it hard.

“No!” you exclaimed, your clit hurting from the contact that it was ultra-sensitive to. You tried to squirm, but you couldn’t, and the dildo was hammering hard into you and poking through the skin of your lower tummy and making your legs turn to jelly. “W-Wanda,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks.

She smirked at you, feasting on the sight of you crying and begging her to stop, wanting to squirm away from the overstimulation. She was trying to break you down even more, dwindle and dumb you down into a messy puddle of nothing, and she was doing a great job of that.

Squelching noises filled the air as she pivoted the dildo into your hole at a rough speed with one hand and rubbed hard at your clit with the other, pausing only to spit on your rubbed raw clit before rubbing it again.

“W-w-w…” You tried to speak, but your mind was so scrambled, and you were in so deep under her spell and her cruel administrations to your body that you couldn’t do anything but scream as two orgasms violently crashed over you one right after the other. You didn’t even notice that you squirted upon the second one, shooting the warm liquid right upon the skin of Wanda’s chest where her dress did not cover.

She twisted the dildo inside you as you came, urging more liquid out of you until finally there was no more, and you were on the brink of blacking out. Finally, she pulled the dildo out of you and put it away, putting your legs back down on the bed and climbing off you.

Your core ached and throbbed as more tears slid down your cheeks, your legs violently trembling. Wanda rounded the bed to place a hand over your forehead. Through teary vision, you took one last glimpse of her.

“You will be my best toy,” she whispered, a dimple forming in her cheek as she smiled before whispering, “Sleep.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!fic #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem!reader

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cleaverqueer · 10 months

Text

DIY How-To; Aluminum Can Spikes

Preface; This will work with any kind of can as long as its metal. (soda, monster, ect) You can make them in colors depending on which side you trace your stencil on but im gonna teach you how to make them silver

And i cannot stress this enough,

BE CAREFUL WITH THE RAW CUT EDGES OF THE CANS, THEY ARE SHARP ENOUGH TO CUT BADLY

Material needed;

Empty clean aluminum can(s)

Sharp scissors (maybe a stitch ripper for attaching them but scissors work too)

A sharpie or permanent marker

Superglue if you want them perfect

An abundance of patience and caution

1 Gather your aluminum

First step is to turn those cans into flat sheets of metal. Start by making a small cut near the rounded edge of the top or bottom, about this distance

Then cut around the top to connect back where you started and take the ends off.

Next you cut a line straight down the side to interrupt the loop of aluminum.

What I do next is kinda just flatten it the best I can? Press it against a flat surface, make tiny bends against the curve, just to make it easier to work with, always being careful of the sharp edges

2 Make a stencil

So the general shape youre gonna wanna make it is like this

The big point will be the tip of your spike, and the little nubby ones will hold it on

imo it helps to have an extra can to experiment with what works best for what youre going for, but once you figure it out, have one flat cut out piece to trace for the rest, to make sure they all come out the same!

3 Trace a bunch and cut them out!

Sounds easier than it is. if you work with it, you can get more spikes sometimes by drawing them close together, but then theyre harder to cut out. Again, be careful of edges. If you want silver, trace on the printed on sign so you dont get sharpie on your spike (or dont, mistakes are punk)

4 Roll them up

This takes a little practice, but what you wanna do is roll up the wider end of the triangle, one edge over the other, into a pyramid, forming a spike with the point of the big triangle at the end. (this ones harder to draw)

Sometimes theyll stay curled tight on their own, sometimes they need a little help (superglue) i havent figured out how to make em curl perfect every time yet. You can also fill them with hot glue to make them sturdier ( BEING CAREFUL OF THE SPIKES WHEN THEY HEAT UP FROM THE GLUE) But the good news is your spikes are done!

4 Affixing them to your shit

Once you figure out where you want them, hold the bottom triangles on the first spike up to the spot it goes like you mean to put it in, mark where they touch the fabric, and then take your scissors or stitch ripper and cut four little tears that DO NOT connect at those points.

It should look like this, with the center dot representing where the spike point is centered!

You should also give each spike enough room that the tears dont run into each other. I usually do them one at a time but i dont think it matters.

After the tears are cut, you carefully insert the bottom triangles into the rips

flip it over, and fold the triangles in over themselves like a staple

Repeat until youve added on all your spikes and your piece looks sick as fuck

5 Bonus; patching over the studs

So when you do this, like a staple, theres the little pointy bits sticking in, and if its a wearble item, it'll prick your skin. If youre autistic like me thats a big drawback, but you can remedy this by sewing a patch of a thicker material (i use denim) over the place where these spikes are holding on.

#diy punk #diy how to #diy can spikes #diy #punk

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the-merry-otter · 1 year

Text

Since the next step of my project is doing 31 lacing holes (:sob:), imma teach y’all how to make lacing holes ✨the historical way✨!

You will need:

Thread of the right colour

Needle

An awl that goes at least as big as you want ur hole

Scissors

I recommend a long thread (I use a lil over a metre), doubled up and knotted at the ends. (It’s one of the only times I’ll do this method of threading).

Start by gently inserting the awl into the fabric. You’re trying to simply push the threads aside, not break any, so make sure the initial insert is careful. (Think of it as sliding your dagger gently between you soon-to-be-dead lover’s ribs with tears glittering in your eyes, as opposed to just violently stabbing them in the back. Be! Gentle!)

Once the initial stab has occurred, firmly slam that awl home, until your hole is as wide as you want it. You’ll probably need to twist and wiggle the awl around a lil to really get it in there.

Remove awl. Congrats, you made a hole. Be careful because this hole doesn’t like being a hole, and in fact would rather return to being normal fabric thank you very much.

Insert your needle. See how my hole isn’t remaining nice and big for long? It’s fine, that happens. Simply ignore it, and make sure where you’re inserting your needle is where you want the hole edge to be. If you need to, reinsert your awl and give it a wiggle.

For the second stitch, insert your needle a little to the left of the initial stitch. Before you draw it tight though, insert your needle back through the loop made. This will create a blanket stitch effect around the lacing hole. Pull tight.

Continue doing this stitch around the hole. Don’t worry about it being too dense, we’ll do a second pass. This is just to get the hole to keep being a hole (as you can see in the above picture, where I’ve stitched is starting to accept its fate as a hole, but where I haven’t it’s still trying to go back to its original shape. I’m about to reinsert the awl bc it’s getting ridiculous xD).

Once you’ve made one complete “pass” of the hole, I recommend popping the awl back in for one final wiggle to check it’s the size you want it to be. Then, go for a second pass with the same stitch, filling in the gaps. It doesn’t have to be solid (and keep an eye on how much thread you have - leave enough to bind off!!), but it should be pretty close together.

(Yes this is a second lacing hole - I forgot to take a photo the first time around. Don’t @ me about it)

Bind off by doing the same stitch in one place a few times, and huzzah! You have made a lacing hole. It looks something like a very tiny cursed portal to the backrooms on the back, but on the front side of the garment it should be a pretty little circle of thread :))

Also it took me I think four?? tries before I made a successful lacing hole, so maybe practice with some scrap fabric first.

I hope some peeps find this tutorial helpful! As always, my inbox is open for questions 😄

Now, time to go finish the other 29 lacing holes. (*sobs*)

#sewing #lacing holes #sca #historical reenactment #history #historical fashion #medieval reenactment #medieval clothing #medievalcore #medieval aesthetic #clothing #long post #i’ll be on my merry way now

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chubs-deuce · 3 months

Note

Hello!!! Love love LOVE your Charlastor and Hazbin artwork; your art is amazing!!

I have a feww questions if you’re comfortable with answering them (no worries if not) :D

I love hearing people’s music recommendations, so I was wondering if you listen to music whilst you draw and if there’s any songs in particular that make you think of the characters and/or the ship?

Also, I get a bit nervous posting about Charlastor because of some of the hate it gets in the fandom and because some of my irl classmates who follow me don’t like the ship (and don’t know I like it), so I was wondering what your general mindset is when you post your art online, but also what your mindset is like when posting Charlastor art, knowing what the fandom can be like?

Finallyy, I wanted to ask if you’ve read Under My Skin by whamagram on AO3 and if you have, what are your thoughts on it? It’s a mature slowburn Radiobelle fic and only has a few chapters out so far, but it’s updated pretty regularly and has become my new favourite at the moment! I highly highly recommend it because it’s super well-written, really witty, and really understands the characters. It’s all about Charlie nursing Alastor back to health after the final battle in season 1 and it’s just so well done!!

Again, just want to say that I really really love your work and thank you for sharing it! I especially love how you draw expressions and the way you draw characters and their emotions feels so real. Seeing your illustrations inspires me to keep practicing with my own art!

Omg thank you so much for this lovely ask?!!

I'd be more than happy to answer all of these actually! :D

I am, in fact, the kind of person who looooves finding songs that fit certain characters or ships and make whole playlists over time if I find enough of them, so here's some that made me think of Charlastor (links are all spotify):

- Glass Piano, by Kathleen

- Daisy Bell, and specifically this scuffed computer sung version bc it hits better

- bored like me, by dodie

- Ended with the Night, by Caravan Palace

- I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire, by The Ink Spots

- I Can't Decide, by Scissor Sisters

I have yet to really find more songs specific to the characters as individuals tho lol

----------

As for your next question...

This isn't my first rodeo in the unpopular non-canon het presenting ship club, so there's a few things I like to remind myself of when I feel that people pleaser anxiety sneaking up on me:

if people truly wanted to avoid content of the ship, they'd block the tags. Maybe kindly ask your friend to block the charlastor and radiobelle tags bc you want to post about them? This way they're not forced to see what they dislike and you get to have your harmless fun. If they're opposed to this, question why. It's not your job to curate *their* online experience, they do have all the necessary tools at their disposal.

I consider the source material like a toy box. You can play with the dolls in it like the packaging intended for you to, but there's no rules dictating that you can't play *your* way if that's more fun to you.

Canon is in my eyes the preferred suggestion, but not the law - don't we all just smush the heads of dolls together making kissy noises in our minds at the end of the day?

A lot of people sadly treat shipping like it's a battle for author validation, when in reality it was always just a way to playing with hypotheticals and exploring the world and characters canon offered us in new and interesting ways... I hate the attitude some people have about canonicity. Imo, as long as you're not acting like your non-canon ship should be canon and shit on other ships in the process, you're not doing any harm.

Now... Canon sexualities and having contrary headcanons are a tricky road to travel because there's so much emotional investment in the canon representation of often overlooked or mishandled minority groups, and this is the biggest anti argument I've seen get thrown around, since Charlastor as a ship not only splits up the canon lesbian pairing, but also alters Alastor's canon sexuality to make the ship work.

What's important here is that you handle it respectfully - i.e. don't be a dick and go around acting like your preferred ideas are better and should be canon or whatever. Attitude is important, respect canon for what it is and embrace the fact that your ship is not. It's not a detriment! It just means we have to make all of our own content lol.

I personally headcanon Alastor as demisexual/demiromantic not only because it still fits under the aspec umbrella, but also because I myself am both of those things and enjoy messing with the characters and narrative using a dynamic I have a lot of personal experience with! It's fun to hit someone as haughty and stubbornly emotionally detached as Alastor with a flurry of unexpected, unwanted feelings and struggling to navigate them.

Do I want that to be canon? Absolutely not! I'm just having fun with my imaginative toys in my own corner of the internet lol.

Also for the record, I think Chaggie is cute and they should absolutely stay together, I just don't find them interesting enough to explore further in the realm of fanfiction and art :'D

Ultimately I'm a strong believer of "I can post whatever I want forever", if anyone has an issue with it and the given tools at their disposal aren't enough to deal with it, they're free to unfollow and/or block me! I don't need anyone's approval to have harmless fun with my artistic and writing skills where I don't bother anyone, and that's imo always what should be at the core of creating just about anything.

----------

OH ALSO I KNOW THAT FIC AND IT'S SOO GOOODDDD I DROP EVERYTHING TO GO READ IT WHENEVER A NEW CHAPTER DROPS

I try my best to leave comments under it wherever I can too bc it genuinely scratches like every itch I have about this ship so well-

The comedy is on point, the dialogue feels so solidly in-character and the pacing and the overall concept just work perfectly!!

10/10 concur as a great recommendation lol

----------

QWQ again, thank you so much for taking the time to type out this lovely ask, I really do appreciate it and the compliments also absolutely made my day!!

I hope you keep having as much fun with this ship as I am, take care!! <3

#chubs answers #charlastor #radiobelle #long post

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robo-milky · 1 year

Text

[More Info]

Nicknames:

Henchman (Grim) | Claws (Ace) | Clochey Wochey (Cater) | House Cat (Leona)

Shrimpy (Floyd) | Trickster -> La Petite Clochette (Rook) | City Kitty (Epel) | Kit -> Honorary Human (Sebek)

Kit of Beasts -> Heart of Man (Malleus)

In Return:

Master _____ (Everyone except for faculty)

Uncle (Ramshackle Ghosts)

Bio:

An emotionally distant girl who thinks with her brains more than her heart. Her words may come off as insensitive, but it’s always said in a neutral tone. Prefers to state the facts and look for the most efficient way out, than tackling more abstract concepts like emotions. Despite this outlook on life, she is a skeptical, worst-case scenario planner. Cloche will go the extra mile if it means security and success is guaranteed. When it comes anything, be it a task/person/subject, Cloche is the type of person who would want to know anything and everything about it to be prepared. When push comes to shove, Cloche will take on the role of leadership and make all the hard decision no one else wants to make. Cloche is a very “the ends justify the means” kind of person.

Core Values -> Competency + Freedom

Background:

A cosplayer from Earth who, after exiting from a con, took a wrong turn to get home and was swept away by the NRC horse carriage.

Ghost Camera: “I’m pretty sure Headmaster Crowley gave this to me as binding to keep me here.”

Snow Hand Cream: “Master Rook could tell this cream is from Neige’s line just by the smell! Isn’t that impressive?”

Bandaids: “I originally bought these for myself, but I end up giving them to others…”

Advils: “Would you like one? Binding Bells told me you were getting headaches, so…”

Handkerchief: “Here, let me wipe that up for you, Master.”

Hair ties: “Master Epel gave them to me during a joint P.E. class. The day after, I overheard Master Vil complaining about his missing hair ties.”

Pencil Case: “If you wish to borrow a pencil, I expect you to give me something back as collateral— so I know you’ll return it back to me.”

Lollipops: “The lollipops in Twisted Wonderland are great and all, but they can’t beat the taste of Chupachups.”

Thread and Needle: “Oh, you’re missing a button.”

Lactaid: “You don’t need one… do you?”

Scrapbook: “Do NOT touch.”

Textbook: “I’m so close annotating the whole book. Just a couple pages left…”

Spiral bound notebook: “Master Rook complimented the calligraphy title in my notes! …Maybe I should do the same thing for futures ones.”

Phone: “Master Grim, please stop playing games…”

Sketchbook: “Master Epel complained about me drawing him too ‘girly’, but I only drew what I saw.”

Notable Thoughts: Cloche’s

“Headmaster Crowley must be busy running such a prestigious school like this… So busy, I wonder if he’d have time looking for a way I can go back to my world.”

“Master Grim’s orders aren’t as bad you think. All he really does is make me do his share of the chores. The simplicity of his orders are a blessing compared to other students’…”

“Master Ace may be annoying when he exploits my curse, but he can be a surprisingly sweet friend. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Is it bad I felt no sympathy for Master Kalim when Master Jamil overblotted?”

“I feel like I’ve been seeing Epel more and more since he stayed over at Ramshackle for the VDC. I get that it’s probably convenient for him to go with me, if we’re going to head back to the same destination anyways, but he doesn’t have to accompany during short breaks.”

“I think Master Rook is very admirable! He’s intelligent, athletic, and creative! …I wish more people could give him a chance and see him for who he really is— but… he probably wouldn’t like that… After all, half the things I know about him, he’s never told me in person.”

“Before asking Master Idia for homework help, Master Grim and I always play a game of rock-paper-scissors. …Why? Because neither of us want to be the bargaining chip.”

“I don’t see why I should fawn over the prince of a foreign land— let alone, from another world. Master Malleus will not be my king, nor will I be his subject. Sage Island is out of his jurisdiction, anyways.”

Notable Thoughts: Others’

“Cloche could’a been the perfect henchman if he didn’t have to call other people ‘Master’!” - Grim

“With Cloche around, Heartslabyul doesn’t have to resort to using a cat beastman to play the violin, but an actual cat. That way, we can follow rule 529 without any loopholes.” - Riddle

“Me, friends with that stick in the mud? Pfft—! As if!” - Ace

“Even in a sticky situation, I’ve never seen Cloche lose his cool before. I wonder how he does it…” - Deuce

“I can’t have Leona ordering Cloche around, cause he’ll steal my job!” - Ruggie

“It’s such a shame Cloche refused my offer for him to work at the Monstro Lounge. …We could have made good money and attracted more customers if we used his cat form to promote on our Magicam…” - Azul

“Cloche is really nice! He’s kind of like Jamil, helpful and a bit stern. …But I also feel like there’s a darkness… Ah— Nahaha! N-Nevermind! I want to know more about him to.” - Kalim

“I thought I could feel the claws of a wild beast, but there’s a beauty to reservation too. Perhaps I’ll need to lure it out.” - Rook

“‘Master Hornton’, an amusing nickname, indeed. I was under the impression Cloche had known my identity, but it seems my expectations had been subverted.” - Malleus

Extras/Trivia:

- Birthday: May 12

- ISTJ-T/6w5

- “She/Her” is only used in a meta/narration sense, otherwise— she uses “he/him”

- When Cloche is in her cat form, she has no conscious thoughts and move as if she’s on autopilot, like a normal cat.

- Cloche has no distinct handwriting. It varies depending on what she’s writing and who it’s for— yet even then, no two letters look the same. (Unless forging)

- Cloche has no inner fur in her ears. It’s to signify that the cat ears are unnatural— fake.

- Has a habit of either covering her mouth with her hand/sleeve or turning away whenever she breaks into a genuine smile. Can smile on command for a camera (cosplayer intuition).

- Goes to the school forest to calm down whenever she feels emotional or if she has an inkling that her feral side will come out

- Cloche has germaphobic tendencies.

Gallery:

Cards:

Groovy!! [SR Tsumsitter]

Groovy!! [SSR Union/Birthday Jacket]

[SR Luxe Couture]

[SSR Birthday Bloom]

#hiiiii so I made a new cloche bio for the sake of clarity-#now that I’ve finally settled on her lore and I’m taking her more seriously than a silly meme yuu- I think I’m happy with this?#oc: cloche🎊#cat scribblez 🌸#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #my art #twst yuu #twst mc #twst ocs #twst disney #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #yuusona #ツイステ #ツイステッドワンダーランド #twst art #twisted wonderland art

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quietlyimplode · 5 months

Text

Clintasha Advent (3)

Prompt: Maybe like a mixture of making own holiday traditions and no where to go, with Clint/Nat or Maria/Nat (your choice !!).

For/Prompter: @emmeywemmy (sorry couldn’t decide on which pairing so it became all of them.. <3)

Warnings: childhood stories but nothing graphic

Word count: 770

A/N: I may not continue posting daily, but will do as many as I can <3

——

“Never have I ever,” Maria starts, bouncing the ball over to Clint.

“No,” he vetos, “with the two of you playing, I’ll lose, get drunk and then who knows what you’ll go.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Natasha supplies, Clint bouncing the ball over to her.

“Boring,” Maria tells her.

“Hangman?”

The ball moves from Maria to Clint again, as Clint and Natasha share a look.

“No hangman, no tic tac toe,” he says, saying what Natasha is thinking.

“I’m out of ideas,” he groans, throwing the ball.

“Stories?” Natasha asks, bouncing the ball across.

“I don’t know how to play that,” Maria tells her, even though it’s met with a laugh from the red head.

Clint passes the ball.

“No,” Natasha says, “like we just tell some stories.”

Maria sits up intrigued.

Natasha never wants to tell stories about herself.

“Like two truths and a lie?” Clint clarifies.

Natasha shrugs.

“Sure we can play like that.”

The church bell rings, and Clint stops talking, wishing they weren’t hiding out in the middle of a church on one of its busiest days of the year.

The ball moves from Natasha to Maria and they wait for it to finish it’s song.

“Okay, two truths an a lie, do you want to go first?”

Natasha throws the ball back at him; hard, reversing the chain.

“Ow-hey, what? You came up with the game,” he defends.

“You go first,” she says with a huff.

“Okay fine,” he twirls the ball in his hand.

“I can draw, I have a middle name, I’m allergic to legumes,” he says, throwing the ball to Maria.

“Legumes?”

“You can’t draw?”

The refutes come together and he shrugs.

“Chose one.”

Maria and Natasha look at each other, unspoken in their communication.

“Drawing,” they say simultaneously.

Clint shakes his head.

“Legumes.”

Natasha frowns.

The ball back to Maria gives her the next turn.

“I can’t feel a portion of my leg, my mother named me after her, I visit a cemetery every Christmas.”

Clint and Natasha stare.

The game feeling oddly personal now.

“Sorry,” Maria apologises, feeling like she’s stepped over a line.

“No,” Clint refutes.

“Your mother?” Natasha tries, to which Clint nods in agreement.

Maria nods.

“Yeah, too easy.”

“Who do you visit?” Natasha asks.

It’s usually Clint whose the one to ask personal questions, but the untold story draws Natasha in.

“My brother,” Maria sighs, “he was a force. The one who’d make family gatherings worth it. KIA. I’ll visit when we get home. He won’t mind a couple of days being late,” she finishes.

The matter of family and siblings sends both Natasha and Clint quiet.

“I learnt English in Ohio, I’m immune to a black widow bite, I once licked a frog to seduce a mark.”

The last one throws Clint hard.

“Just when I think I know all the things about you,” he laughs.

Natasha is far too quick.

“Barton, you’ll never know everything about me,” she blinks slowly.

“Stop flirting,” Maria laughs, catching the ball Matasha throws.

Clint likes his tongue out.

“Clearly, it’s the black widow bite,” Maria guesses.

Natasha shakes her head.

“Nope, they named us after black widows, it was one of the things they made us immune to,” she nods.

“The frog then?” Clint guesses.

“Nope,” Natasha shakes her her.

“Ohio?” they both guess, simultaneously.

Natasha nods.

“I learnt on Russia, on American cartoons.”

Pieces fall into place for Clint.

“Oh that’s why you don’t like Disney Classics.”

Natasha nods.

Clint feels sadness roll over him that his favourite classics are tainted, and likely he’ll never get to share them with his best friend.

The ball passes to Maria.

“My go again?”

Clint nods.

“We should just make a run for it,” she tells the other two.

“You’re turn,” Natasha says insistently, clearly having fun.

“It’s the 23rd of December, how about, next year we do more?” She avoids.

She’s lucky really, the mark enters the church and Maria turns into the militaristic personality that Natasha doesn’t love.

The parabolic mic is directioned to the meeting and Natasha watches the recording commitment.

Clint already in position to shoot, his finger on the trigger as they all listen to the rhetoric and hate speech.

Maria’s voice is low.

“Next year,” she whispers.

“We’ll play again next year.”

1/ Clint/Nat/Laura + traditions

2/ clintasha + temporary blindness

#clintasha advent 2023 #natasha romanoff #clintasha #black widow #clint barton #my fic #Maria hill #Maria/Clint/Nat #clintasha fanfiction #natasha romanoff fic #clintasha fanfic #in this house #clintasha advent

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trashytoastboi · 1 day

Text

Day of Dominance - Diavolo

~Spicy Sin-Ario F! Version~

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

> Female Version

> Word count: 1,015 words

> Warning: NSFW (Overstimulation, Size kink, Manhandling, Fingering, Dacryphilia, Cock warming)

“Dia! Ah- no more…” {Name} moans and attempts to push his hand away, her strategy changes to trying to seize his wrist to stop him from moving. Diavolo doesn’t budge, his fingers keep a steady rhythm when they work in and out of her, occasionally making a scissoring motion inside to stretch her a little more. Her voice grew more ragged, turning from moans to whimpers and whines from the overstimulation when she cums again for the umpteenth time. “I love how sensitive you are my dear” Diavolo marvels at the sight with amazement. His hands finally give her a momentary rest while exploring {Name’s} body. He enjoyed every jolt and twitch when he would graze a certain spot that drew another entertaining reaction from his partner. He grazes his fingers along her navel watching his touch cause goosebumps to rise on her skin.

Diavolo sits up, placing a soft kiss against her forehead as he sinks his cock into her. His hands hold her steady and in place as he inches inside with a nice and slow thrust, feeling {Name’s} body accommodating every inch with a tight stretch that makes her pant, her nails dig into his chest, digging deeper the further he reaches inside her. Diavolo took a moment to enjoy the view of his length bulging in her tummy, “Amazing” he croons, drawing his hips out and pushing inside again with more force. Mesmerized by it, Diavolo rests his hand on her stomach and presses down on the bulge. He nearly curses at how suddenly her walls clenched down around him. Diavolo is truly having too much fun with the feel of his cock moving in and out and how her cute stomach swells every time he’s in deep. If Diavolo hadn’t ripped as many orgasms from her then maybe she wouldn’t be shaking with the oversensitivity and heightened awareness of the feel and shape of his cock dragging along her insides, pushing in with a little force and rubbing along every one of her favourite spots. {Name} doesn’t know if she can handle another one, and tries to move away just for some respite from his thrusts, at least moving in a way that he’s not pressing against her most loved spot with every thrust in.

Diavolo slows his hips, watching how stealthily she attempts to move away and he allows her. The moment he watches {Name} draw in a small sigh of relief, his fingers bite into the flesh of her thighs and pull her all the way back with a rather hard and forceful thrust that sends her over the edge. {Name} babbles, whines and tells Diavolo that it feels too good through slurred words that he’s learned to decipher through the sheer amount of times he’s put her into this state. Diavolo leans down to kiss her softly, “Don’t move away from me” he warns, his voice low and a slight pout rests on his lips.

Moving her from one position, to the next and to another, finally he has {Name} on her hands and knees, unsteadily so Diavolo happily lends a helping hand to keep her hips up, holding her nice and steady while he’s pounding into her. Unable to think, or even extend an ounce of concern to volume as her voice gets louder and doesn’t even register restraining her voice. Neither of them paid attention to the knock on the door, Barbatos stands on the other side, a slight blush on his face as he listens to {Name} and Diavolo. He clears his throat “Young master, you have an important call-” Diavolo pulls {Name} closer to lift her face into a deep kiss, swallowing every moan as he entwines their tongues. At Barbatos’s words Diavolo takes an unfamiliar expression of annoyance, work, politics, everything like that was the last thing he wanted to think about while he is with {Name}. “The call can wait. Nothing should interrupt me right now. Is that clear?” Diavolo spoke firmly without room for refusal. Honestly the tone sent a shiver down both {Name’s} and Barabatos’ spines.

The butler was taken aback but did not refute and quietly left. Diavolo had always prioritized his duties above all else. In the past even if Diavolo had “personal company” over, he’d leave them to go attend to whatever called him away. {Name} had proven to be the sole exception, Diavolo refused to allow his attention to be deviated from her. Not since the first time, and nothing will ever disturb him when he’s fixated on ravaging her. It obviously started with his desire to build closer relationships with those in all the realms and he respected those who resided within them. Diavolo himself had confessed to {Name} that maybe it was due to his demonic nature that he sought such a thrill from the idea of corrupting a sweet little human, {Name} being that human. The innocent, naive human who so willingly crawled into his clutches and allowed him to devour her so wholeheartedly. Diavolo didn’t have to seduce {Name}.

Once she mildly came back to her senses, she muffled her own voice, opting to try to silence the moans by burying her face in the soft pillows on Diavolo’s bed. She tried again, a futile effort really, to move away from him. Diavolo watched her attempt, yet again to squirm away from him. He leaned down to cage her body between his and the bed as he bottomed out, there was no escape. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he grins to see her whining so pathetically with a fucked out expression. Her whole body trembles with intense ecstasy. “Don’t try to run my little lamb.” Diavolo croons, pressing kisses along her shoulder and neck. When {Name} babbled on about it being too much Diavolo was kind enough to compromise and keep her within his hold while he’s still buried deep inside. He kisses her softly, waiting until she catches her breath so he can continue having his fun.” Just keep being good for me…” he purred into her ear.

Taglist: @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @roninfromtheops

#trashytoastboi #diavolo #seven days of sin event #obey me #dia #obey me diavolo #om! diavolo #obey me dia #diavolo x reader #female reader #unholy toast #fluff #obey me nightbringer #om nb #nightbringer

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sergeantsporks · 11 months

Text

Dadrius Week 2023, Day 1: Father's Day

“Hold these please.”

Hunter stood bemused just outside of a supply closet while Gus loaded his arms up with paper, markers, and scissors. “What’s all this?”

“I’m making a card.”

Hunter ran through a list of their mutual friends and their birthdays. The only one close was Amity, and her birthday wasn’t for another two months. “…For who?”

“My dad. For Father’s Day.”

He’d never heard of this holiday—not the biggest surprise, but still. “For what?”

“Father’s Day. A day to celebrate our dads. Similar to, but separately dated from, Mother’s Day, Parent’s Day, Spawner’s Day, and last, but certainly not least, Sire’s Day, celebrated mostly by vampires and werewolves. I’m making an illusion card that sings when you open it, and I am also! Planning on making breakfast for my dad. And you, too, I guess, but the point is that I make it, rather than my dad.” Gus took the paper and scissors out of Hunter’s arms, folding up one piece and snipping at it expertly so that it was shaped like a heart.

“Oh. That sounds… nice. When is it?” He probably needed to plan something for Darius. Sure, he’d just moved in this year, and they were still getting used to being in each other’s space, and the adoption papers sat on the counter, unsigned by either of them as they debated back and forth if they were ready to take that step, but “Father’s Day” seemed like a good chance to develop… whatever this was. Maybe move more towards something more official.

“Tomorrow. Hence you being here for breakfast.”

Hunter dropped the markers. “Tomorrow?! That’s not enough time! I can’t make anything, or—it’s too late to go shopping! All of the stores and stalls will be closed! Except the Night Market, but I doubt there’s anything there that—”

“Hunter! Whoa! Hey!” Gus held out a piece of paper. “I don’t think Darius will care if you don’t go all out for Father’s Day. Oof, I should have thought of that before inviting you over. It’s okay! You can make him a card like I’m doing, and maybe just ask if he even wants to do anything tomorrow? I know some dads just sort of want to have the day to themselves, and that’s their gift. So, before you freak out, ask. You can at least get some idea of what he thinks about Father’s Day.”

“Okay. Okay, yes. I can make a card.” Hunter took the paper. “A heart is too much, right?” It certainly felt a bit corny to him. At least for Darius, for where they were at the moment. Gus’ heart for his father seemed entirely reasonable and fitting.

“I’d stick with a rectangle for now,” Gus agreed.

Hunter nodded, folding the paper in half and uncapping a marker. “What do I put?”

“Happy Father’s Day. Then draw a picture. Just write something nice on the inside and sign it. It’ll be easy once you start, I promise.”

“Okay.”

Hunter focused on his handwriting, making it as neat as possible and filling out the front of the card. He drew an abomination on the bottom, filling it in with Gus’ purple marker. After a moment of consideration, he added a blobby bun to the top of his head. The inside of the card stared up at him, as blank as his mind. Hunter tapped his marker against his lips.

“Hey, Gus? What are you putting in yours?”

Gus swept his card up so that Hunter couldn’t see it. “Nuh-uh, no cheating. You have to write something for you and Darius, not just copy what I’m saying to my dad. Just say something you appreciate about him, you know? Something you’re glad he’s in your life for.”

“Oh. Okay.” Hunter tapped a pen against his chin, then wrote, Thank you for letting me live with you. –Hunter.

That had been easier than expected, but would it be enough? Should he write more?

Hunter closed the card before he could think about it for too much longer.

“Do you need help with yours, Gus?”

Gus waved a hand. “Go talk to Darius. Let me know what he says! I can help if you need an extra set of hands for something, or I can check to see if we have an ingredient you’re out of.”

“Thanks, Gus. You’re a lifesaver.”

Hunter flash-stepped all the way home, appearing in the middle of the living room. “Darius!”

The older man jumped, spilling a mug of tea all over himself. “Augh! Hunter! I thought you were spending the night with Gus?!” He shifted into his abomination form, squeezing the tea out and settling back into his witch form. “What? What’s on fire?”

“Nothing!” Hunter said quickly, “Nothing is on fire! Sorry! I just had a question. Um. So—tomorrow is Father’s Day, and—”

Darius jumped out of his chair with a curse. “It’s tomorrow?!”

“Yeeees?”

“You’re sure?”

“That’s what Gus said.”

“Bones, dirt, and muck! Why did no one warn me?!” Darius paced back and forth. “Too late, it’s too late. Dessert. I can do dessert. Yes.”

“Darius?”

Darius disappeared into the kitchen with a wave of his hand. “Can’t talk! Need to make a cake!”

“What?”

“Cake,” Darius repeated.

Hunter followed him into the kitchen, ducking under a bag of flour that flew across the kitchen. “I just wanted to ask if you—”

Sugar hurtled towards him on its way to the counter, but stopped and delicately skirted around him before it made contact.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to do anything for Father’s Day!”

The ingredients flying around the kitchen halted in midair, and Darius looked up from his recipe book. “Oh.” He nodded a couple of times. “Oh. I hadn’t…”

The cake components slowly floated to the counter, and Darius moved across the kitchen to face Hunter. “I do not expect you to do something for me, little prince. Thank you for asking. However, I do need to get this cake baked and cooled, and it will go faster if I do it by myself.”

Hunter nodded and left the kitchen, his throat closing up.

That’s that, then. He didn’t know why Darius was suddenly in such a frenzy, but the dismissal was clear enough. He didn’t expect anything from Hunter for Father’s Day. The unsigned adoption papers would remain unsigned, and Hunter would remain a houseguest. Hunter tucked the card he’d made into his belt pouch and curled up in bed, watching the clock tick down until midnight.

Happy Father’s Day.

#dadrius week 2023 #day 1: father's day #toh #the owl house #dadrius #sonter #darius deamonne #hunter deamonne #my writing #toh fanfiction

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mantisgodiveblog · 1 month

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The header looks great! Dandelion head looks adorable in your art style and in blue! A bit sad you found out Loop’s name in the manual, but a fair trade to see you discover the manual! Odile trying to curb Bonnie’s chaos is adorable! Bonnie loves bullying Isa for being a rock type, little hypocrite. But maybe check everyone’s weaknesses again- it’s an interesting detail. Clearly, Loop is a Lizard type. Odile, shopping for supplies: *loop sfx* what the- Siffrin! I know this is your fault somehow!

Thank you! We've got a dot card that we're using for these icons, and we're slowly rotating through the colors - the background color for one card becomes the accent color for the next. We've got six colors in total, so we're hoping to rotate through all of them by the end - this game is six acts long, after all.

If Loop's name is revealed in a particularly entertaining manner in-game, we'd hate to miss it. Let us open up the statuses real quick, we sort of paused writing up the liveblog post mid-conversation, so we should have it on hand...

Huh. HUH! This is gonna really fucking suck for the King fight. We assumed that her weakness would be Scissors, since Paper is weak and Scissors is neutral, so we guess we didn't read too close. Damn. It's really gonna fucking suck in the King fight if our only time stop curer dies.

Odile shows up in the King's room on Day 1 after Siffrin spends some memories to teleport there directly from the start and just kind of stands there holding an accidentally-stolen jar of jam as the teleportation registers. She knows that this is Siffrin's fault because they're the only person who's actually prepared and not just panicking about the teleportation directly to the king. Also, what the fuck, Siffrin, how did you do that and why?

Loop is weak to Rock and Scissors and strong against Spock and Paper. We see. It all makes sense now. Someone who can draw human faces please draw the epic Loop-Spock-Siffrin showdown.

#asks #we speak #not liveblog #in stars and time #thatdoganon #this is why you wait for day 2 to loop directly to the king. gives your teammates time to prepare instead of getting fucking bodied.#for reference in rock paper scissors lizard spock spock is weak to paper and lizard and strong against rock and scissors #so this particular matchup makes one rock-paper-scissors trio but like. lizard-spock-scissors #generally with the extra types in rpgs its like. “this is the secret ultimate final boss type with no weakness that does double damage”#“used only in the final boss and also the final boss's special ultimate attack”#or sometimes a handful of other bosses throughout the game in lesser form #generally not accessible to the player though it can depend on the RPG and whether or not they want the player to have like #an Epic Scripted Finisher only available in the final act

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lyssak09 · 1 year

Note

Hello :D

I love your writings!!!!

And I love your dbd Yandere Leon x killer reader story :3 can you pls make a part two? I would love to know how it will continues :D

Thank you so much for your amazing work!!!!!!

Also have a good day :D

Of course! Your super sweet I'm so glad you like my writing. So I actually started working on a part 2 after seeing your comment. But your ask just really made me work more on it. So thank you for requesting! Also, I tried to make this as gender friendly as possible. If I messed up anywhere Im so sorry. I hope you guys enjoy it 💙

Yandere Leon with Killer! Reader pt 2

Leon is a clingy needy dude after he's yonked you from the killer's realm. So expect a lot of cuddling, no personal space, and following you everywhere you go in the apartment.

He isn’t THAT weird, and lets you use the bathroom in peace.

You think anyway.

The best part about him following you like a puppy is the fact that you can basically make him do anything with a simple sentence.

You could ask for water, and he will zoom over the fridge to get you some water.

Hungry?

Food has been cooked and brought to you.

You are treated like a god dang queen/king/royalty.

As you should be.

He took you without your permission, and has been keeping you basically hostage.

This is the least that he could do for you.

Now, is his cooking very good?

Not really.

He is used to cooking food over a fire and, after joining The Entity’s realm, not eating at all.

If someone came to visit you guys (99.98% not gonna happen but it doesn't hurt to hope) like a friend of his, who didn’t hate him for kidnapping you, he would be giving them a death glare until they leave. Lucky for them that they're friends with Leon or else you'd have a giant mess to clean up and some laundry to do if ya catch my drift.

Btw, Leon 100% wants you to be his house spouse.

You are so missed by your friends. And are enraged and appalled that Leon has done this to you and is able to.

A lot of the killers don’t care tho, since they’ve seen much worse.

But the survivors do, they're also extra pissed he is the one who did kill them for a while as of late.

But hey, not everything was too bad.

He let you have hobbies, as long as you were still inside of the apartment.

Like sewing.

If you were really interested in it, he would ask you to sew some of his old clothes with big holes.

“Y/N,” he would whisper, before sitting down next to you. You were just sewing up old holes in a pillow case that you found in the back of the closet, hoping to maybe get some use out of it. “Can you sew up this hole for me?"He showed you an old, black shirt with a bullet hole on the chest. “Laurie got me good with a pallet, it put a hole in my shirt, and I haven’t been able to find someone to repair it.”

If you try to stab him with the needle or scissors to skedaddle then your butt is gonna get whooped.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?" He yelled at you while you tried to break the front door down. "To get away from you! Duh!" You replied before body slamming the door. Leon let out a string of curses as he quickly wrapped his wound with scraps of fabric from the table. Leon soon grabbed you by your waist and dragged you to the bedroom. "Damn it! Let go of me!!" You screamed and held on to the door frame of the bedroom. Leon covered your mouth and pulled you into the room. "You have no reason to scream yet." He hissed in your ear and shut the door.

If you like reading, he would ask force ou to read to him.

“But, if the werewolf liked the girl, then why wouldn’t he keep her? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” he asked. You rolled your eyes, "because the vampire one already had dibs on her. And healthy relationships don't involve kidnapping!" You told him and continued reading. "They obviously don't love her like I love you" Leon mumbled.

If you like drawing, he would ask to see what you’re drawing and he would try to make sure to get stuff for you to draw more.

Like pencils and pens.

“What are you drawing?” He would ask, standing above you as you leaned over the table. “Is it a zombie?”

“No.”

“A cat?”

“No.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a tree.”

"Oh…"

Leon would frame and or put any drawings or doodles on the fridge.

If you have other hobbies, he would try his best to get you stuff to be able to do the things you loved.

If he couldn’t, he would watch you and learn what you were doing.

If he had to go to a trial while you were at the house by yourself, he would lock the doors and take the key.

That way you wouldn’t be able to get out while he was gone.

While that did stop you from getting out, it did allow you some time alone without him hovering over you.

You could do whatever you pleased for the few hours that he was gone.

Wanted to catch up on some extra sleep that got taken away from you?

Then nap time it is!

Want to draw something without him looking over your shoulder?

Freedom to draw whatever you want.

Though, you would have to hide them, since he does go through your stuff regularly.

Especially your drawing notebooks.

But remember, he had to find things that were hidden before he was forced into The Entity’s realm.

So it won’t be easy to try and hide things from him.

Especially if he is suspicious of you hiding something.

“What did you do today?” He asked, walking through the door and plopping on the couch next to you. “Nothing much really, just took a nap and tidied up a bit.”. “Then why are the pencils out of place and why are their smudge marks on the table?” He asked, looking at you. He knew you were lying about what you were doing. “I know you were drawing.” He looked at you with an upset glare, “You don’t have to lie about what you do when I’m gone, you know I love your drawings.” He grabbed both of your hands in one of his, his other hand on your upper arm, “Where is it? I would love to see it.”. “I told you, I didn’t draw today. I tidied up, and that included moving some of the drawings I’ve already made.” You ripped your hands away from his. He started to get angry. "Why are you lying to me?" Leon yanked to towards him. "You didn't draw some boy or girl you think like like right? Because I'm the only one you can see in that way!" He was growling at this point. "Damn it Leon! I didn't draw today, and besides, is it really such a bad thing if I don't want you to see my drawings?" You were sweating now. You may or may not have drawn a hot character you had a crush on. But what's the harm in that? And aren't you allowed to have some privacy? "DON'T FUCKIN LIE TO ME!" he screamed and pinned you to the wall. You got the wind knocked outta you. "You know I don't like secrets." You stayed silent. “I’m going to find it, even if I have to turn this whole place upside down!"

Yeah…he doesn't like secrets

Especially from you. Couples share everything right?

But if you dont draw and play games instead then maybe you get a game system or a game boy.

Or whatever you need/want for your hobbies

Anywaaays when he is forced to chill in the Killer camp he likes to ease drop on the killers and survivors who were you friends before you got yonked. (Yes you were friends with most of the survivors. You were a pretty friendly and chill killer)

Leon started to hear rumors of him making a deal with the entity. Which wasn't wrong. But he still didn't you two to be discussed about with these asshats

He also started to hear your friends talk about plans to take you back and beat the utter crap outta our RPD boi.

But sadly for you, that's not happening. The Entity has gotten so much rage from Leon taking his anger out on his once friends. (He gets angry because someone isn't reciprocating his feelings fast enough.

And Entity is also getting rage and despair from the survivors

To be perfectly honest, I don't think you're ever getting out. Leon's kills is more than making up for you no longer being able to do trials. So the entity is probably gonna leave you in Leon's hands. Forever

"You're mine you got that?" He hissed at you as you kicked and screamed at him to let you go. You had just tried to escape again and Leon caught you. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" Leon screamed and dug his nails into your jaw, breaking the skin and causing blood to trail down your neck. You mumbled out a yes. "Good, because you're never leaving me."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------- little fun bonus if wanted —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe one day the Entity decided to let you guys out into the real world for a while since Leon has been so so useful as of late

That also meant everyone could join.

Leon was pissed about this idea. He only wanted you and nobody else.

Besides, his ex-teammates aren’t probably the happiest with him

You know, killing them and all that.

Killers also didn’t really like him either.

They missed you being around the campfire with them.

But he made a deal, and The Entity was one to never let their side of the deal fail.

Neither was Leon though.

He always kept his side of the deal.

And he wasn’t going to let anyone else come near you.

You already knew that though, and it wasn’t like you haven’t tried to bargain with The Entity either.

But at least you could enjoy a day in the real world near your friends.

So, yay

#yandere x reader #yandere headcanon #yandere x you #yandere #yandere male #ask lyssa #dead by daylight #miss blue writing #yandere dbd #yandere leon kennedy #leon kennedy #raccoon city #yandere resident evil #resident evil

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vee-crytraps · 1 month

Text

Kiss Me More | Ch 4-3 | {Ornament}

{Trigger warning/Themes Masterlist} First | Previous | Next |

You leave to fix your hair. The light in the powder room is fluorescent, far from the atmospheric glow of the chandelier in the main hall. Your golden pins scatter across the marble counter as you pick them out of your hair one by one, deciding to start from scratch. It’s hard to untangle everything with just your fingers, given the extensions Dick had helped you painstakingly place. Just when you’re about to give up and just leave everything loose, the door opens. Selina slinks in like a cat wherever she goes, toting a confidence that suggests she owns every space she dares to occupy. She greets you, drawing your name out in a sultry tone. You resist the urge to gather your golden pins. You both know she could take them from you if she really wanted to. “Well, well, well.” She all but purrs, opening her clutch. “If it isn’t the bird with the broken wing.”

Selina digs around for a gilded compact. It looks quite valuable, and has initials it them that were definitely not her own. Despite it's antique exterior, the powder inside was fresh, given that she had refurbished her loot for practical use. Woman to woman, you find yourself impressed. Charmed, even. “That puppy dog brother of yours spin you around one too many times?” “Selina,” you greet. “Yeah. You know Dick. For a guy that’s considered suave, he's easy over excited.” Leaning forward in the mirror, Selina paints her lips a bold red before arranging her short, dark hair. You wonder if you should cut yours the same way. You immediately attempt to banish that thought because you were seconds away from treading a truly dark path- spending the night with a pair blunt craft scissors in front of your bathroom mirror. You would rather die than be 14 again, hiding in your room in shame after cutting your bangs too short. “You look like you could use a hand,” she pipes up, observing you play with your hair in the mirror. “You’re driving me nuts batting away at your hair like that, kitten.” She approaches you, deliberately leaving her clutch far away from your expensive hair pins. “Don’t worry about these. I’ve already got several,” Selina prefaced, allowing you to observe each one as she carefully slid them into your newly re-arranged hair. You looked up to her so much, and everything she did, she did swiftly and with purpose. Selfishly, you wish she would give in to Bruce's romantic advances, and you allow yourself to fantasize about her having a major presence in the manor. Mother-daughter trips to the salon and splurging on expensive rings to match your new manicures. She's so fucking gentle with the way she does your hair, you don't know how you mange not to cry. True to her word, you leave the powder room with all of your golden hair pins accounted for. You even reminded yourself to take a quick glance in the mirror, checking that your necklace was still firmly in place. Maybe she really did just want to lend a helping hand. On your way back to the gathering, you’re so lost in your thoughts that you run straight into the chest of Damian, who steadies you at the hip. The corridor is dim and echos with the revelry of the party raging on just down the hall. “Shit, sorry,” you mumble, praying that he won’t start something as you try to move aside. Damian steps back, holding you still. Rare approval flashes in his gaze as he admires your dress. “So. There is a grown woman in there after all. For a second I suspected you had a thing for dressing like a sickly Victorian girl. Looks like we won’t have to make space in Arkham.” The insult has a lot less bite than usual, and you make a very unladylike show as you brush past him, bumping into his shoulder. You manage to fix your face, schooling yourself from the encounter as you try to approach Bruce. It was time to play your role of the doting daughter. Your adoptive dad is making his way through the room, greeting friends and associates, sharing drinks with the shareholders. You catch the tail end of his conversation and resist the urge to neck another glass of champagne. Part 4-4

#v.fic #kiss me more

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chiimeramanticore · 3 months

Text

Part of The Band - Chapter 21: Copy

ive been a terrible slacker with uploading potb chapters here lol. instead of going back and uploading every chapter that i've missed here (a LOT of them) im just gonna keep going from where we're at. i suggest reading on AO3 to get the full experience!

The gang takes a promotional day for the band. Mitzi draws a flyer design. The gang meets a new face.

Read it on AO3!

---

Dook sits on the couch of the band room next to Mitzi, who's been drawing a flyer idea for a while now. They're taking a "promotional" day today at practice. Everyone older than Mitzi has been tasked with piles of newspapers, scouring the wanted ads for anyone in need of a band. Billy Bob had suggested they start with lower stakes– even the best bands have to start playing in someone's garage.

"Man, maybe we've got this all wrong," Beach Bear says. "I've seen more ads for clowns for kids' birthday parties than I have for anyone who actually needs a band." He scoffs, adjusting his position in the chair to be even more lopsided than before.

"What, you wanna get into kid's entertainment?" Fatz raises an eyebrow at him.

"No," Beach Bear smirks, "I think we should all become clowns."

Looney Bird laughs. "You'd be a terrible clown, Beach Bear," he chimes in.

"Yeah, you would know, wouldn't ya?" Beach Bear tells him. "You already look like a clown."

"Dook has the nose already," Mitzi adds.

Dook gasps, a hand moving to cover his nose. "It's not that big," he insists. "And it ain't red!"

"Keep blushing like that and it will be soon," Beach Bear teases. Dook doesn't respond, but does in fact grow redder upon hearing it.

"Look," Mitzi says, putting down the colored pencil she was using. She proudly lifts up the paper to show everyone her design. It's a flyer advertising the Rock-afire Explosion– the background is a bright explosion pattern, with the text in vibrant purple and red letters.

"Woah," Dook murmurs.

"Nice job, Mitzi!" Beach Bear exclaims, taking the flyer from her to look at it closer. "We can totally put these up around town."

"We've gotta make copies, then," Billy Bob says.

"Sounds like a trip to the store," Fatz replies.

"Oh! I wanna ride in the front!" Mitzi stands excitedly, already making her way to the door.

·–—–·

The office supply store is not that large, and never very crowded. The store is lined with racks of paper, stationary, scissors, and so on. Near the back wall, a single employee sits bored by the register. Sitting in the center of the store, the coveted copier machine– by their luck, the one thing in the store already occupied.

The group mostly files in behind the cat at the machine, doing their best not to crowd him. Looney Bird and Mitzi wander off to check out the other fixtures of the store. The employee at the register has a radio set up, the sound of the Bee Gees quietly pouring out into the rest of the store. Besides that and the sound of the copy machine, it's dead quiet in the store.

Dook stares at the promotional posters on the wall. This store has a mascot, a tiger holding a cardboard box, promoting that you can send mail from the store. Dook looks back over to the cashier, a small orange cat. Kind of a difference. He looks back at the cat using the copier machine. He's lanky, taller than Dook by a bit but definitely shorter than Beach Bear. He's mostly black, with white fur accenting his ears and hands. He's wearing a T-shirt and jeans, a baseball cap sat backward on his head. The cap has a word embroidered on it: "Swingers."

Dook cocks his head, trying to get a better look at what he's making so many copies of. It's brightly colored, but he can't make out the text. Without thinking, he takes a step forward, trying to get a better look. The cat's ear twitches, and he glances over his shoulder to address the group.

"Oh–! Sorry, I didn't realize how long this'd take." He glances back at the machine. "I shouldn't be too much longer."

"What're you making?" Dook asks.

"Oh, just some flyers for work," the cat replies. He pulls one from the machine and hands it to Dook.

"Showbiz Pizza Place?" Beach Bear reads from over his shoulder. "Never heard of it."

"That's because it's new," the cat says. "Not opened yet. My boss is in the restaurant business, and he's trying to start a franchise sort of situation."

"Interesting boss," Dook murmurs, still staring at the flyer.

"What are you guys making?" The cat continues. "If you don't mind."

"Flyers, too," Beach Bear says, nudging Fatz. Fatz hands the cat Mitzi's flyer.

He looks it over. "You're a band?"

"It's not clear from the flyer?" Billy Bob asks.

"It's just hard to tell past..." He taps the drawing of an explosion on the page. "Are you any good?"

"It's not clear from the flyer?" Beach Bear says, gesturing toward the same explosion.

The cat laughs. "We're looking for a band to perform at Showbiz," he explains. "You should sign up. Keep the flyer."

The copier finally finishes, and the cat picks up the stack of papers it's produced. "I've gotta run," he says, already moving for the door, "but keep us in mind! You could be just what the boss is looking for!"

The front door swings shut, and he's gone.

Dook looks down at the flyer once more, an address listed at the bottom. "Maybe we will."

#rae #rockafire explosion #rock afire explosion #showbiz pizza #fanfiction #potb #juno.txt #my art

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imwritingthefout · 1 year

Text

Intertwined

This is my first time writing and uploading fanfiction so I’m v nervous aaaa

Summary: even if you weren’t aware of it, you and Matt always found each other no matter what.

2.7k words

This is a Matt Murdock x artist!gn!reader bc it’s self indulgent ok

Lots of fluff no warning except this was written on my phone on the tumblr app so keep that in mind

i kind of want to do a part 2 but i'll see bc I have an idea on how to continue it but I just don’t have the energy to add it here

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

The first time you encountered matt was when you were ten.

You were looking for your favorite book in the library when you got lost. You were scared and alone, you didn’t know this section of the library. why were all the books just dots?!?!

Sliding down leaning on the wall, you started sobbing silently. You just wanted to read your favorite book and now you’ll be lost forever. Your mom must be so worried! You never got the chance to say goodbye to her. You won’t get to bake with her anymore. You won’t be able to have cookies anymore!!

All these worries were pulsing around in your tiny head when a voice cut through them like scissors

“Why are you crying?”

Through the blur of tears, you saw a boy around your age. He had rectangular glasses and brown, fluffy hair.

You sniffled “I- I’m lost and- and I can’t find my favorite book” tears continued to freely fall down your face

“Hey don’t cry. I’m sure I can help you find your way out” his gentle smile in your direction helped slow down your panic, but you were still crying.

He reached for your shoulder to help you up. His hand was so warm, you felt as if it was heating you up. Or maybe it was just the unexpected physical contact

Slowly, you got up from your position on the ground, and saw that the boy was holding a long stick.

“Why do you have a stick?”

“I can’t see so it helps me walk around and not bump into anyone”

You wondered about the logistics of how the stick works. How would life be if you couldn’t see? You wouldn’t be able to draw, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t be able to see the sky on a bright summers day.

These thoughts helped distract you from your earlier panic

“So if you’re blind, how come you’re in the library? Can you read?” You didn’t say it in a condescending manner, but with a genuine interest to understand how his life works.

“Well, there’s books with bumps in them that I can feel, and they create words when combined”

“That’s actually so cool! So you can just like feel bumps in a page and instantly know what it means?”

“I don’t know if cool is the word, but yes” he chuckled a little at your enthusiastic reply. His smile was warm and comforting, almost inviting you to try to make him smile more.

“Well it’s cool so that is the word” you humph back, defending yourself jokingly

He was going to reply, but when you saw your mom from afar you ran to her without giving him a chance to say anything

“Thank you!” You shouted to him while running to the comfort of safety

“Shhh!” The librarian had to remind you to be quiet, but you didn’t really care.

The boy just smiled and walked away. Only then did you realize you didn’t get his name.

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

The second time you saw Matt was only for a short moment.

You were walking to your first day in high school when you bumped into someone by accident. You stumbled backwards, almost falling and catching yourself, but causing your book bag to fall instead.

“Are you alright?” You heard someone ask

“Yeah yeah I’m so sorry I’m just in a rush” you explained hurriedly as you went to pick up your bag, only to bump your head into the boy’s walking cane.

“I’m sorry” he was holding out your book bag. How did he get it so fast?

“I’m the one who should be apologizing! I ran into you!”

“It’s alright, you go on with your day” he smiled at you so warmly, it reminded you of the boy you met at the library when you were smaller.

You wanted to dwell on it, but you had a class to be late to. “Thank you so much!” You tried to show your gratitude, but you just bowed awkwardly. You were already so embarrassed you just up and ran away from him.

As you walked away, Matt watched you with a smile on his lips and a cute blush on his cheeks.

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

The third time you met him, it was at the cafe you worked at.

Paying for college isn’t easy, so because you had late classes you started working the morning shifts at the cute cafe down the road from your apartment. It was tiring waking up at 5am everyday to bake all the pastries and clean up, but it was worth it to continue being independent.

The ding of the door signaled the first customer of the day

“Hello sir how may I help you?” Even though you were tired you put on your best customer service voice. “Hi, can I have a small black coffee?” You looked up to see a cute guy in opaque sunglasses.

“Anything else?” It was relatively easy to smile at him, what with him being so cute and all. “What do you recommend?” You hadn’t expected him to actually get anything else, it’s just something you were programmed to say to every customer.

“Well, I would recommend the cinnamon toast roll! They’re very delicious it’s hard not to eat them all” you laughed a little because it’s very true. After you finish baking you get attached and don’t want to sell them.

“Then I’ll have one of those” he sends you a charming smile and you can’t help but get a little flustered.

“And who’s this order for?” You ask. It’s a stupid question once you think about it for too long. Why not just ask for someone’s name? The question implies that if the food is for someone else than they should say that name, but then they would get confused when that name is called and not theirs

“Matt” he smiles at you, and suddenly the logistics of your question don’t seem to matter that much anymore. Suddenly all that matters is getting a closer look at that smile.

He pays for the food and coffee and leaves. He doesn’t see you staring at him as he does

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

The next day you saw Matt again.

He’s once again the first customer of the day. The bell rings and when you look up your step feels a little lighter. “How can I help you?”

“A small black coffee please? And another pastry recommendation, the last one was amazing” you can’t help but blush. He thinks your cinnamon toast roll was ‘amazing’, and he trusted your opinion enough to buy it

“The strawberry muffin is one of my favorites! But maybe that’s just because I have a major sweet tooth…” you do work at a coffee shop and bake all the pastries, of course you have a sweet tooth!

“Then I’ll have two of those” damn, you don’t think you’ll ever be tired of his smile. “Who’s the second for?” You hope it’s not for a partner “oh it’s for my roommate. I told him about the great roll you recommended and he wants to try out something for himself”

So maybe he doesn’t have a partner? Anyways your job is customer service, not finding out if the cute blind guy is single, so you write Matt with a little smiley next to it on the cup and send him on his way.

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

Matt became a regular.

Every morning you would make a black coffee in advance for him, and every time you recommended a new pastry. You even shared a few flirtatious back and forth sometimes.

One day you felt really confident, so you decided you’re gonna shoot your shot with him. Before he comes, you decide to etch into the cup ‘you’re really cute, would you want to go out sometime?’ You add a little drawing of a kitty next to it and your number.

The bell dings and suddenly all your confidence goes out with the cool breeze from outside.

“Hey Matt, the usual?”

“Yes please. What am I having today?” It’s become a thing between you two that He lets you pick out what to give him. It’s quite nice

“Just some butter cookies with jam. A little basic but very much a classic” you already prepared them in a holder with the coffee, but Matt likes to drag out the process in order to talk to you.

“Those actually sound really great. I remember eating them while learning braille” maybe you should’ve learned braille and written in it on the cup, maybe that would’ve been more romantic.

“Well I hope you enjoy them!” He pays and leaves you anxiously hoping for a text from him.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long.

From: unknown

These cookies are delicious!

I would love to go out if it means more of these tasty treats haha

Oh my god he actually would like to go out with you!! You quickly save his contact info to Matt and text him back

I didn’t know I could bribe you for a date! If I did I would’ve done it way earlier

You don’t need to bribe me to enjoy your company, I already do ;)

Is it getting hot in here or is it just you?

Well if you want, I have the closing shift too so you can come by after I’m done?

I would love to

What time?

6:30pm

See ya later alligator

Why did you write that?? That’s so weird! But you can’t do anything better because suddenly there’s a bunch of customers already here.

It may be a cliché but time does go a little slower the rest of the day. Your excitement and anxiety make it difficult to focus on doing your job, but you manage and suddenly it’s closing time and you hear the bell ding.

“I’m sorry but we’re closed” you say out of instinct while staring down at the table you’re wiping.

“Aww that sucks, I’ll just come back another time” you can see the smile on his lips grow as you look up at him. He just does a little wave in your general direction and you go to greet him.

Instead of going out, you both decided it would be fun to stay in the empty cafe. You talk, eat some left over pastries and just have fun together, enjoying each other’s company.

“So tell me, what do you study?” You ask as you nibble on a strawberry cupcake. “Oh I just do law” “wow, serious much” you can’t help but comment, because this cute, laid back guy just mentioned he studies law!

“Well I’m a serious person” he smiles at you in a way that shows you he’s clearly joking. “If I’m too serious for you then what do you study?” “Oh just art” compared to him, it feels silly, but it’s something you’re very serious about.

“I bet you’re great” “how would you know?” You joke because, well, he can’t see if you’re good or not. “Just from how good you are at everything else” now that makes you flustered and you can’t help but ask “like what?”.

“Like baking, making coffee and being nice”

“Being nice isn’t something you have to be good at, it just comes naturally” maybe to other people it doesn’t, but to you it does. “Well then you’re better at it than most people. Trust me, I would know” there’s a hint of something genuine in that statement, you almost miss it.

“Maybe those people just have enough problems in their life as is, so they don’t have enough energy to be nice” trying to justify people’s behavior is something you do a lot, even if it’s not always a good thing.

“Maybe” you don’t think he believes you, but just doesn’t want to get into this topic. You respect that and quickly change the conversation into a different direction.

“You know, something I’ve always wanted to do was dance with someone in an empty cafe. It looks romantic in all the movies” it’s not really subtle, but it gets the job done.

“Well I may not be the best dancer because- you know” he gestures to his face, and you giggle a little. “But it could be fun” did you mention already that his charming smile is amazing?

You go behind the counter and put on a random romantic playlist you find. Once you get back to him, you see that he’s holding his hand out to you

“May I have this dance?” He does a little bow, and you almost notice the tiny amount of blush on his face.

“Yes you may” he smiles brightly at you, and you smile right back, your heartbeat picking up at the sight of him.

As you get closer, he takes your hands and places them on his shoulders, while his go to your waist. You sway gently while the music plays, and you can’t help but wonder how it could be to be with him. Would he be a loving, caring partner? Would he bring you flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day, or cuddle with you when you’re sick?

God you hope he does.

Maybe it’s too early, but you could see yourself being with him in the future. His scent invites you in, and your dancing sort of morphs into a hug that moves around.

It’s quiet, but it’s not awkward. The only sound comes from the speakers of the shop, the latest song ending. His warmth comforts you. You want to stay in that hug forever.

You instantly recognize the next song that starts to play, and you softly hum the tune of it.

“Whatcha thinking about?” He asks

“Nothing” it’s a lie. You’re currently imagining cuddling with him on an late Sunday morning, not getting out of bed for anything.

You think he realizes you’re lying, but he lets it go anyways.

“I’ve had a nice time” he pulls back a little and you get a good look at his face. “Me too” he can hear the soft smile on your lips, and he smiles back at you. Your faces are so close, you can just feel his warm breath on your nose. you’re not usually a ‘kiss a guy on the first date’ kind of person, but maybe you can make an exception.

For a second, he hesitates before asking you “can I kiss you?”

The question makes a blush spread around his face, almost like he’s embarrassed to ask it.

“Please” now it’s your turn to be embarrassed. At least it wasn’t for long, because as soon as you feel his lips on yours, all that nervous energy goes away.

He’s kissing you gently, like he’s afraid the second you break contact you’ll dissolve in his arms. His lips feel soft, a little chapped but not in an unpleasant way.

Once you break away for air, you chase him into another kiss, Just because you want to remember how it feels to kiss him in case you don’t get to again.

After a couple more kisses, you finally look at the time.

“What. The. Fuck. It’s ten??!?!” Your manager was going to kill you.

“I’m guessing that’s not good?” Matt asks, but he already knows by your tone of voice it’s time to go. “Yeah… I’m sorry, we have to go” it’s disappointing. You wanted to stay like this, with him, for as long as you could, but time wasn’t on your side.

As you lock up the door, you look up at Matt. “I just wanted to say again what a wonderful evening I had” the harsh, cold wind slapped at your face with the reality of coming back to a cold, empty apartment with no Matt in sight.

“I had a lovely evening too. I would love to see you again sometime” the cold made the tips of his nose and ears pink, and it was an adorable sight. “I would love to see you too” you said in a genuine voice. The cold wasn’t the only reason your face was red.

With a parting kiss on the cheek, you went back to your apartment giddy and hopeful for the future.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #mcu #marvel #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #matthew murdock

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