#the devil in manhattan

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: A Change In Attitude

Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

The Devil In Manhattan

Summary: Intent on acquiring a job at the Kriezler Institute, you attempt to provide for yourself as a woman living on her own in New York City. Whether your plans succeed or not is dependent on your actions.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Scolding, Rudeness, PTSD,

Mentions of: Murder,

A/N: Despite the following, for story's sake I won't spoil it, but trust me, it is a reader insert.

It was a necessity, all a part of the plan; an expected transfer, a job wherever followed, somewhere close in reach of your sister. You'd come close to a divergence, the cautious eye of the Headmaster unsure whether you'd be a good fit for his Institute. Yet, the unexpected dismissal of a staff member meant that a replacement was needed, and thus, a spot opened up just in time! Fortunate luck, you'd reckon.

There'd been rumors, gossip of what the recently notorious Doctor Kriezler was like. Though you'd done a brief interview with him, there was still an air of interrogation, a hostile sense that despite answering all of his questions in length, it was as if he could see through you. That he knew something was fishy. Was something awry? You're not sure, however, the fact that he's known for calling people out is something that does you and your case no favors.

Upon your first day of work, you're handed a uniform. Grey in nature, you don't mind the way the plain fabric of the frock suits you. It isn't ostentatious or attention-seeking in any way, shape, or form. Something different from the dresses you'd been used to wearing prior. Having been given a room the day before to move into, even if you'd only brought a sparing number of items in your suitcase, an allotted day was still favorable. Set up in the dormitory, you were to oversee the girl's hall during nights. Now, having eaten breakfast with the children and staff in the cafeteria only a half hour ago, your colleague, Helena, guides you around the Institute.

"Usually the Headmaster would take on such responsibilities," she informs you, "however he's been intent on finding that killer of late. He denies it. Ludicrous, if you ask me." With a solemn shake of her head, the woman, at least a decade your senior, guides you through the long halls of the Kriezler Institute.

"Is that so?" You respond, curious to hear more about not only hear which murder she's referring to, but hopefully acquire more about the Headmaster supposedly playing the part of detective? If you haven't misinterpreted her words, that is.

"Miss Sanktorini, I can assure you it is unprofessional to fraternize whilst on the job, nevertheless unladylike to speak on such matters. I'd think you'd know better." Taken aback by Helena's response, your steps slow down, your figure falling behind slightly. She'd started it! She was the one who brought it up. Euuugggh- and the audacity she has to implicate me?! Attempting to control your breath, you run your hands down the apron of your frock before picking up the pace again.

Eyes roaming the elegant window-lined halls of the Institute, you're surprised that it's much bigger on the inside than it'd looked on the outside. High ceilings adorned with chandeliers, walls decorated with paintings and busts atop podiums, you can't even begin to imagine how the Headmaster acquired the amount of wealth it'd take to fund this place. Helena prattles on about routine and the different activities going on in the classrooms you pass, though none of it interests you, really. Her words linger in the back of your mind, digesting the information for if it ever becomes useful, however, you can't help but admire the foliage outside in the courtyard.

"It is rather beautiful, isn't it?" Helena speaks your thoughts aloud as she comes to a stop at the end of the hallway, books still saddled on her hip.

"Stunning," you respond, hands lazily clasped in front of yourself as you make no motion to move.

"The Headmaster has a few gardeners who maintain the lawn, while we maintain the innergoings of the Institute. Firstly I'll-" A shrill dinging sound emits from everywhere all at once and you can't help the way you jump. With the way that the sound of doors slamming open and the quick padding of feet follow, you finally recognize the sound. It was only the bell. Unconsciously your hand flew to your chest and you find it there now as your heart races within the confines beneath your corset under the uniform frock.

"The bell rings multiple times a day. Once in the morning for breakfast, then again for the children's recess, and finally for lunch and dinner." Helena dusts off a piece of flint from her dress which you hadn't seen. "Our tour comes to an end anyhow, the entrance is just through those doors to your right. Now that it's recess hour, I suppose your first task can be to help the other staff outside in watching over the children. Find Clarissa, you'll be in her charge for the remainder of your stay."

With nothing more than a curt wave of her hand, she leaves you to your own devices. Normally, you'd find this impolite and demand some sort of direction. This only provides the perfect opportunity for you today. After all, the only purpose for your appearance is Elizabeth. She crosses your mind once more, and you find yourself looking back down the hall where teachers have gathered their students in lines, leading them in your direction. Will Elizabeth be in one of them? She has to be here, you think to yourself.

Determination in your veins, you close your eyes for a moment to gather yourself, memories, and the impetus of your plan surfacing to the forefront of your mind. It's like you're right back there, the scent of the flames burned into your nostrils, smoke causing your eyes to burn and itch. Breathing more rapidly, it takes a moment for you to come out of your stupor, the reason being the people passing to your left, just inches from you.

"Who are you?" One of the children asks, the young girl holding up the line as she stares up at you, a curious look upon her face.

"I've never seen you here before!" A boy comments, garnering the rest of the line's attention.

"Children, it's impolite to bother strangers," the teacher reminds, having turned on her heel at the outbursts and started to walk over. "You must be the new attendant," the woman speaks, offering you a gentle smile and outstretched hand. "I'm Clarissa Aerborn."

"Marina Sanktorini," you respond, meeting her hand with yours in a firm shake. "I was supposed to find you! Helena told me you'd be my supervisor," you inform her.

"Oh? Well, it's a pleasure, Miss Sanktorini. Children, this is Miss Sanktorini. She'll be accompanying our class for the remainder of the day. Let's get to the courtyard," she introduces herself before following suit with her children. With a beckoning hand, she guides you down the hallway and out one of the side doors into the courtyard you'd been mesmerized by earlier.

The teacher lists out a set of instructions, or guidelines, for her children before letting them run free in the yard. Once she turns to you, intent on making conversation, you listen diligently, even while Elizabeth consumes your mind. She has to be somewhere around here, you remind yourself.

"It's rather amusing, actually. We haven't had anyone new in awhile so you should understand tha-"

"Is there anywhere else the children play at recess?" You inquire, the thought consuming you, even if you're sure it came across as rude to interrupt her.

Taken aback, Clarissa gathers herself for a moment before shaking her head. "All the children play here, unless they're summoned by the Headmaster for a meeting, or perhaps were put on punishment, though that's a rarity. Doctor Kriezler doesn't believe tha-

"Forgive me for interrupting, it's just that I have so many questions, and I'm afraid that Helena wasn't favorable to any," you explain.

"Ah... I see. Helena can be quite a-" Clarissa is about to speak her mind before she spots a child, her eyes roaming as she attempts to find a proper phrase. "well... you know."

"I believe I do. You seem to be so close with the children. How did you manage that?" You ask, attempting to form a reason for departing the conversation, even if she is rather nice.

"Well, you'll get to know them over time. I wouldn't worry too much since it's only your first day," she responds with a friendly and encouraging smile.

"Perhaps I'll attempt to introduce myself," you propose. This should be a sufficient reasoning for your departure, and won't make you look suspicious. Two things you'd desperately hoped for. Recess would be the perfect opportunity to find Elizabeth and give her a quick message, let her know that everything is okay and that you're alive.

Albeit, the task seems much harder than you'd thought. Out of all the children in the courtyard, blondes seem to be rather common. A quiet sigh tumbles past your lips as you attempt to scan their faces, searching the crowd for one that's familiar. You could pick your little sister out in a crowded street square, not to mention the crowds of the theatre, so this shouldn't be too difficult. Yet, with everyone running around and moving about, it's rather trying.

Eventually, you start to approach some of the children on the outskirts, not playing with the others. Most of them don't seem to know your sister or haven't seen her today. Still, you introduce yourself, seeking out your reasoning for this job. The bright light of the sunrays streaming through the leaves and branches begins to leave you with a headache, a dull tug of pain behind your eyes. It's only as you're beginning to grow half-hearted in your determination that a call of your name rings out clearly amongst all the chatter.

Panic rises, whatever pain had been troubling you is suddenly no longer in focus as you race to meet the voice. Careful not to get hit by one of the balls or trample an innocent child, you reach the little girl who had been running toward you. "Shhhh, shh," you command, one hand holding her head while the other brushes her hair back behind her ears. "You know how Mommy thinks that I'm dead?" Crouching to her level, you speak to her quietly.

"But you're here! You're here!" Elizabeth cries, jumping for joy despite the tears that well up in her eyes.

"I know. I'm here... yet you can't tell anyone, Lizzie. You have to keep it a secret between us. Remember how I told you that things were dangerous, how I had to save you? I promise-" you run your hand over her hair, sitting back on your heels just enough to search her eyes and gauge her reaction. "I still promise I'll make things safe for us. You have to trust me, okay? And in trusting me, no one can know my name. I changed it, it's Marina Sanktorini from now on, okay?"

Though you know she's probably confused on some of the details and reasonings that were best left to her ignorance, she nods in understanding. If anyone had understood the things you went through and the pain you'd suffered at the behest of someone you once admired, it was her. Everything you'd done... everything you ever did was for her. To protect Elizabeth and shield her from the awful things and people that roam the Earth.

"Do you understand, Lizzie? It has to be a secret between us," you repeat, sure that your gaze set upon her is beyond intense, but it's for good reason. You have to know; at this point things are life and death for the two of you.

"Mhm, I understand," Elizabeth repeats, sniffling as her fist comes up to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand.

"What's going on here? Did someone get hurt?" It's the teacher. Damn it! You were hoping for more time to talk to Elizabeth, but at least you got your message across. The teacher bends at the waist, inspecting the way you have Elizabeth's crying face between your hands in a gentle hold.

"I think so, you're okay, right? What was it, Elizabeth? Or should I call you Lizzie?" You ask, a smile tugging across your lips as stare at her fondly, glad to have her back within your reach.

"Lizzie! It's Lizzie," she responds happily, the smile on her lips clearly giving Miss Aerborn an answer.

"Alright, well it's good to see you making friends with the children, Miss Sanktorini," Clarissa responds, offering you a hand up. Begrudgingly taking it, you let her guide you back toward the front of the courtyard.

"You can't leave! You can't-" Elizabeth protests, running after you both a few steps. When you turn around, you can't help the tug you feel at your heartstrings as guilt clouds your emotions. Even if you know it's something you should probably feel the least considering all you've sacrificed.

"I'm afraid I need to continue showing Miss Sanktorini around, Elizabeth. You can play with her later," Clarissa retorts. With a gentle pull she resumes the path she'd taken, you following with a frown as you offer one last, hopeful look in your sister's direction. Mouthing an 'it's okay', you gather yourself enough to turn and face the music. After all, now you have a guise to put up.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

#laszlo kriezler x reader #the devil in manhattan #my writing #my series #the devil in manhattan series #tdim #tdim series #the alienist reader insert #the alienist au #OCs

[thefiresofpompeii]

a lot of people talk about love don’t roam being about rose which, sure, obviously, the first time i heard it in the runaway bride and recognised the lyrics i cried, but what people don’t mention nearly often enough is that my angel put the devil in me is more than just a gag tune for tallulah’s showgirls to perform at the cabaret. it’s a song from the perspective of martha.

that’s essentially the plot of smith&jones. the little streetcar is the tardis

referring to the fact that ten kept promising martha ‘one last trip’ before he dropped her off. then another, and another. hey, it don’t have to be eternally, because he’s not the kind of guy to stick around…

davros’ admonishment in journey’s end: the doctor may be a pacifist who never carries a weapon, but he turns everybody around him into soldiers. martha’s no exception; she holds the osterhagen key. ten may be her guardian angel, but her traumatic experiences while travelling with him harden her spirit, and by s4 she’s working for UNIT. she was an ordinary medical student and he put the ‘devil’ of adventure in her, just like any other companion

now this one’s pretty self-evident. cold grey eyes and a simple smile. guile and charm and mystery. whisked her away like a witch on a broomstick. one and one and one: three hearts between the two of them. or maybe ‘three’ is martha, the doctor and the tardis. or — worse — martha, the doctor and rose.

the fact that the song is playing during this scene in the end of time also casts its meaning in a different light: jack has been radically transformed through meeting the doctor just like martha was. from a conman and a coward to an unlikely hero. jack shoulders the burden too. so many lives upended because of this bad bad angel. don’t make crowley jokes

#back on my murray gold bullshit #murray gold #love don’t roam #my angel put the devil in me #daleks in manhattan #evolution of the daleks #doctor who series 3 #doctor who #dw #martha jones #ten #tenth doctor #tenmartha #david tennant #freema agyeman #jack harkness #tenjack #the end of time #doctor who series 4 #journey’s end #doctor who meta

[kyannnite]

wip but uh. if you told me i’d be drawing love never dies fanart 3 months ago i would not have ever believed you but here we are

#it’s not my fault devil take the hindmost goes so hard #i also have a bit of a newfound appreciation for love never dies after reading phantom of manhattan. #like it vastly improved on the source material. although erik’s phantom of the opera american civil war au was so insane #that i was enthralled for 15 pages #anyways. love never dies but erik is more leroux-esque :) #my art tag #wip #phantom of the opera #love never dies

[mirandapriestlysworld]

Breaking News! 

Miranda Priestly's townhouse just hit the market! Listed for a whopping $27,500,000!  Have you always wanted to see the inside of Miranda's townhouse? Click on the link below and enjoy a gallery of photos you haven't seen before. That is unless you attended the school or academy for which this townhouse served   *I need clarification on the foyer because it looks completely different from the film. Or do I miss something?

#Miranda Priestly #Miranda's townhouse #upper east manhattan #the devil wears prada

[normanbased]

Gooberssss

#he’s playing the ‘make blood stop in your veins by dragging your thumb over them’ game #we could have bonded with that #then they played devil finger bendy wendy without me #I should’ve been there #I could’ve been his uhhhh Manhattan apartment burglar if he wanted me to be #deep lore #tonyposting #they on the set of the trial also

[queerestqueertoeverqueer]

what sort of stars aligned for this song to be written for a david tennant episode and then perfectly match up to another character played by david tennant

#sorry the good omens hyperfixation has me in an actual chokehold ok #ineffable husbands #my angel put the devil in me #crowley #aziraphale #murray gold #doctor who #daleks in manhattan #good omens #david tennant

[ufonaut]

You all believe you’re wielding magic. I must perform a deeper analysis, but I see this power you harness is in reality scraps of creation. Like the random errors in computer code, discarded and forgotten... left to be picked up and used by those who also find themselves discarded and forgotten.

Doomsday Clock (2017) #9

#doomsday clock #watchmen #justice league #justice league dark #doctor manhattan #dr manhattan #jon osterman #guy gardner #green lantern #john constantine #zatanna zatara #the demon #etrigan #blue devil #doctor fate #deadman #boston brand #aquaman #hawkgirl #the flash #martian manhunter #gary frank #dc #dc comics #dcedit #watchmenedit #comicedit #comicsedit #u can reblog #UM HELLO BEST TAKE ON MAGIC??? 'LEFT TO BE PICKED UP AND USED BY THOSE WHO ALSO FIND THEMSELVES DISCARDED AND FORGOTTEN' YESSSSSSSSS

[denimbex1986]

'Doctor Who has long been known for its chaotic camp energy and nothing encapsulates this better than the musical numbers scattered throughout the iconic BBC sci-fi series.

Returning showrunner Russell T Davies certainly seems to love ensure that a banging soundtrack accompanies the hit British TV favourite: That was made clear early on in the season one reboot when “Toxic” by Britney Spears and Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love” played as “traditional Earth ballads” while the planet burned in “The End of the World”, set in the year five billion.

In recent years the show has had a particular penchant for including needle drops, dance breaks and powerhouse musical scenes for its characters, especially the villains. At this point, it’s amazing that there hasn’t been a dedicated musical episode as some sci-fi fantasy shows such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer – have famously done.

In a recent interview, Davies explained why he loved giving his Doctor Who antagonists a spectacular musical number as they enact their evil plans.

“In all great pop music, there’s a savagery to it… It’s like in the middle of a song, people are being slaughtered. It’s pure Doctor Who, isn’t it?” he said during the episode commentary for “The Giggle”, the third of three 60th anniversary specials.

“I’m always using pop music like that. There’s a darkness in there somewhere. The relentlessness, that’s the word. There’s a ruthlessness to pop music.”...

5. ‘My Angel Put the Devil in Me’ from ‘Daleks in Manhattan’ (2007)

We feel bad putting the only musical number not performed by one of The Doctor’s enemies at the bottom of this list, but it falls just short in the face of some truly stellar – and villainous – competition.

We also apologise because Tallulah Francis’ dazzling cabaret performance of “My Angel Put the Devil in Me” is a standout moment from the season three episode “Daleks in Manhattan”.

The glittering outfits, the sultry (and gorgeously synchronised) choreography and dreamy encapsulation of 1930s New York all blend together to make this a performance to remember.

Kind-hearted, devilishly smart and supremely talented on stage, is there anything Tallulah “Three ‘l’s and an ‘H'” Francis, played by Miranda Raison, can’t do? We think not. Well, aside from topping this ranking, of course.

2. ‘Spice Up Your Life’ from ‘The Giggle’ (2023)

Placing Neil Patrick Harris’ musical number as The Toymaker in “The Giggle” as runner-up was not an easy choice given that his performance is truly spectacular, high-camp and unnerving in equal measures.

The Toymaker was lip-syncing for his (and everyone in the building’s) life as he went on a tyrannical rampage while dancing to 90s classic “Spice Up Your Life” by the Spice Girls, dressed in a classic toy soldier’s uniform. A murderous musical number for the ages.

1. ‘I Can’t Decide’ from ‘Last of the Time Lords’ (2007)

A controversial pick for the win, but just forcing its way to victory is John Simm’s inspired performance to Scissor Sisters hit “I Can’t Decide” in the season four finale “Last of the Time Lords”.

Put simply, “I Can’t Decide” walked so “Spice Up Your Life” could run, and we would be nowhere without it. The song perfectly captures Simm’s maniacal take on The Master opposite David Tennant’s (aged-up) 10th Doctor.

He’s a Teletubbies lover, king of needle drops (who can forget the moment he blasted Rogue Traders’ “Voodoo Child” while the Earth is being ravaged), and the true embodiment of a crazed villain.

It’s camp and crazy, and, tragically, many Whovians have been criminally deprived of the full scene over the years after it was left out of certain streaming versions. Some may think it is dispensable, but we certainly don’t. This is a John Simm stan page only.'

#My Angel Put The Devil in Me #Daleks in Manhattan #I Can't Decide #Scissor Sisters #David Tennant #John Simm #Doctor Who #60th Anniversary #Spice Girls #Spice Up Your Life #The Toymaker #The Giggle #Neil Patrick Harris #Voodoo Child #Rogue Traders #Last of the Time Lords #Miranda Raison #Tallulah Francis #Russell T. Davies #Toxic #Britney Spears #Tainted Love #Soft Cell #The End of the World

[lucky-bastards]

Some of Ashley Zukerman’s Characters kinda hinting at his future ones... I know it’s a coincidence, but it’s interesting. 

Lt. Robert “Mac” Mackenzie (The Pacific)

Lt. Mac: Dropped some kind of new bomb on the Jap Mainland. Burgie: Don’t that beat all. Lt. Mac: Oh, no. No, no, this one is different - vaporized an entire city in the blink of an eye. Sledge: How? Lt. Mac: I don’t know. Anyway, killed a lot of Japs.

Charles “Charlie” Isaacs (Manhattan)

Charlie: You’re building an atomic bomb.

Ackley: We prefer to call it ‘the gadget.’ I walk most of the new boys though the math and they still don’t see it. 

Robert Langdon (The Lost Symbol)

Sure, there are all those people who think they can change the weather with runes or summon the devil with a pentagram... 

Nicholas “Nick” Goode (Fear Street - 1666)

#ashley zukerman #the pacific #manhattan #Robert Mackenzie #charlie isaacs #robert langdon #nick goode #fear street #the lost symbol #and now i have ideas #like landon meeting nick and be like for real bro? #or mac meeting charlie in the pacific before they drop the bombs pestering him with questions #with a cameo from Snafu trying to poke the bombs #or all of them are brothers #landon the goofy yungest #mac the second one who wants to proof himself #charlie the third brother and overachiever #and nick as the oldest trying to keep those other idiots alive with the devil packt

[guardiamociunfilm]

Scarpe Jimmy Choo, Manolo Blahnik, Nancy Gonzalez la adoro! Ok Narciso Rodriguez questo ci piace tanto, ah si! Potrebbe starti, potrebbe. Ok, ora Chanel, hai un disperato bisogno di Chanel. 

Il Diavolo Veste Prada.

#devil wears prada #meryl streep #anna hathaway #new york #nyc #manhattan

[lazyjellyfish300]

In Between the Bookshelves📚

AU Librarian!Miguel O'Hara x Fem grad student reader

(image isn't mine, found it on Instagram under the account @/ brokenohara and asked for their permission to post it)

Synopsis: a normal trip to the library results in a little bit more than you were expecting when you meet the new librarian on duty. Word count 4.6k

A/N: reposting this new and hopefully improved version of one of my very first Miguel fics I deleted a while back. I tried to make him more awkward and cute🖤🤓. Still not totally confident in the smut but oh well. Writing smut is so hard sometimes? Or maybe my skills have gone down, idk 😫 Hope you enjoy...

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT TOWARDS THE END: FINGERING, ORAL SEX F receiving, Gag(he uses his shirt to muffle your moans) Public sexual activity, talk of anxiety, mention of family troubles and anti-deity/religion language

It's 7:00 pm on a rainy Tuesday night in the middle of October. You just got out of your evening Database Systems class. You can't help but feel poetic as you stroll down the grey, soaked, Manhattan streets twirling your umbrella, hot coffee in a cardboard cup in hand. Your shoulders begin to ache from the thin faux leather straps of your backpack. You're wearing your favorite brown sweater over a short sleeved black dress that hits you mid-thigh, with some holey black tights and your favorite knock-off Doc Martens. Damn, I still need to write that 2 page paper that's due tomorrow..

You decide at the last minute to spend your night at the library. You know you won't get anything done if you go back to your apartment. You spin on your heel and pick up the pace as you head hastily towards the NYIT library in Manhattan.

The library is pretty dead except for a group of three people sitting together in the middle table talking in hushed voices, one woman sitting on the floor scrolling with a laptop, and one jock looking fellow sitting at the computers, cracking his knuckles and bouncing his knee anxiously as he scans his assignment he's typing.

You sit down at the empty table right next to the librarian's desk. Since you're a regular here you recognize Polly, the librarian on duty who is a plump woman who looks to be in her 30s with short curly brown hair, wearing a mustard yellow cardigan and brown corduroy pants tonight. She's stapling papers together and gives you a small nod in acknowledgement as you sit down at the table in front of her desk.

She whispers to you, "I'm actually heading out for the evening, but the new person on duty should be here any minute now if you need any assistance."

You nod, and, speak of the devil, here he comes. You suddenly feel your chest get hot when you lay your eyes on the new librarian.

Tall, dark, and handsome would be the simplest way to define this man's appearance, but that would be a very feeble attempt at doing him justice. Sculpted bicep muscles push against the sleeves of his flannel with the cuffs rolled up halfway on his thick forearms. The flannel is unbuttoned and flaps gently away from his body as he walks, a white t-shirt underneath. He has broad, wide, shoulders and a narrow waist. He's also wearing dark wash athletic jeans and a pair of canvas slip ons. His hair has one stubborn strand in front from his small widow's peak that falls endearingly in the middle of his forehead. His most disarming quality is his eyes. A shade of brown that's earthy and natural like the sediment that decorates stream beds. He wears a stoic expression under large framed glasses.

He nods and mutters a "thank you" to the woman librarian as she shimmies into her coat and leaves. His eyes notice you and latch onto you momentarily. You feel your cheeks grow warm and you turn back to your laptop, unable to resume where you left off, wanting to start a conversation with him but not sure how. After a few painful moments of silence, and a quiet rumble outside from the ongoing rainstorm, you decide to break the ice by telling him your name. He blinks as you tell it to him, and you continue trying to make small talk to try and prod more out of him.

"Have I seen you here before? I come here a lot and I don't think I've met you yet."

"Miguel O'Hara," he answers shortly, but politely. "I'm a grad student. I started working for the university in exchange for assistance with my tuition."

You nod, feeling the heat leave your cheeks a little bit as you realize you could have a normal conversation with this man, and not just be an awkward mess around him the entire time. When he mentions he's a student, you realize you have something in common with him and try to go from there.

"These mid-terms are going to be the death of me. I have just one more paper to turn in then I can finally breathe, thank God..."

Miguel blows a short puff of air out of his nose seemingly in agreement, but doesn't say anything else.

He's quiet. Truth is you are too, and you're stepping way more out of your comfort zone than you normally would. Amazing what a pair of charming brown eyes could do to you.

"Honestly, if I had to work anywhere on campus I'd pick the library too. Seems peaceful with minimal people around, and everyone's required to be quiet by default. The ultimate dream workplace."

Miguel can't figure out why this stranger keeps talking to him, but you brought up a point he feels he needs to clarify.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Most people that come in here are loud and inconsiderate as hell. And there's always that one person who hasn't heard of shocking headphones. Always."

The corner of your mouth raises. "God, that would drive me insane. Being a librarian isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

Miguel shakes his head. "No. More like a glorified adult babysitter who knows where the historical fiction section and restrooms are located, and that's about it. That's literally the only two questions I get asked all day." He turns to look at you more fully, this conversation a slight breath of fresh air, the first chance he's gotten in a while to air out his grievances as the night librarian.

He continues, complaining about the horny couples he's had the misfortune of overhearing get busy on the beanbags in the far corner, and the people who leave random drinks and empty chips bags on the shelves and seem to have forgotten what alphabetical order means when they put books back.

You listen to all of it, nodding your head, and let out a cackle at his expressions he's making with those defined, bushy brows of his. He talks with his hands and it's a little endearing to watch him be so animated. This expressive side you've managed to crack through beneath his solemn exterior.

Miguel feels warmth rise in his body at the sound of your laugh for the first time. It's genuine and hearty, and honestly it's funnier than whatever bad quip he just made and he can't help but feel a little more attracted to you after hearing it. You were a good listener, and he appreciated that a lot about you.

You glance at the windows across the room, nodding in its direction with a remark about the weather, how rainstorms are your favorite. He tells you he loves them as well.

Soon, the others have shifted out of the library and he's now sitting in the chair across from you leaning his chin in his hand, listening to you speak as the rain gently pelts the windows outside.

He finds out you're originally from a smaller town, and you came to New York City for college and to escape your overbearing parents. You're 26 years old and trying to finish this Master's degree after taking one too many semesters off. You tell him about your mom who's a bit of a pushover, and your dad who's kind of an asshole.

He tells you he's 29 and has a younger brother who lives on the other side of the city, and his mom is similar to yours. She's kind but tends to set herself on fire to keep her kids warm. Like you, his dad is also a bit of an ass.

You're both introverted, but you can fake it when you need to, which he appreciates, otherwise he never would have been brave enough to say something to you this evening.

You two share a love of education and coffee. You discuss religion.

"I just don't get it, I'm supposed to love this guy and accept Him into my heart because He died for my sins even though I didn't ask Him to do that? But yet if I break any of His rules I get sent to the Inferno for all of eternity?"

"Sounds like a toxic relationship." Miguel quips as he spins your nearly empty coffee cup across the table absentmindedly.

"Exactly!"

You two talk about love as he shuffled some stray books back to their rightful place.

"C'mon, I know you've had to have dated at least once."

Miguel shakes his head. "Well, I did date a girl in high school. Knew her since the 7th grade. But she pretty much ripped my heart out when I saw her making out with one of my buddies on graduation night. I've had a couple dates here and there since then but that's it."

You click your pen. "Damn, so we both have exes from hell that we dated in high school?"

Miguel nods his head. "It would appear we do. I'm sorry you know the pain and annoyance of adolescent heartbreak too."

You shrug your shoulders. "It happens, y'know? It's like one of those things in life you're just meant to experience. It's like, unavoidable you know? And there's nothing you can do about it. What would you call that? Like not a trope per se, but almost like.... destiny?"

Miguel shrugs in return, "Like a canon event?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Yeah... exactly. How'd you come up with that?"

The ghost of a smirk appears on his face, "Just made sense to me, I guess."

You two sit at the table again and he asks about your childhood and you explain that you suffered from anxiety as long as you can remember and he looks at you with sympathetic eyes.

You do your best to try and ignore what feels like his knee pressing against your calf under the table. The thought of touching him sends heat waves through your body, but you remain frozen in place to send the message you're not opposed to more contact. Miguel feels it too, and deep down his leg is falling asleep with the way it's positioned but he's too nervous to move, either.

You both love the nighttime over mornings, and you show him one of your favorite playlists. He smiles at you tenderly as he holds one of the earphones to his ear.

Soon, it's 10:30 pm and he needs to do his closing duties. Luckily, there weren't any patrons who needed his assistance during his whole shift, proving his point earlier. Before he excuses himself, you two sit in silence for the longest time, both trying to gauge if now's the time to say goodbye to one another, but neither of you wanting to actually be the one who does.

Not sure if it was the absence of any light outside, the late hour, the good conversation you two shared, or a combination of all three, but the ripple of attraction you harbored for him has now washed over you completely and morphed into a formidable wave, threatening to take over your whole body, the darkness of this library and persistence of the ongoing storm outside pushing you closer to him.

He's staring at the corner of your laptop, similar feelings ebbing through him, not sure what's got into him. The art of flirting turned itself into uncharted territory for him a longggg time ago.

He finally decided to look at you but you're already looking at him and he snaps his gaze back down onto the bare table below him, silently cursing in his head as a shade of red fluster rises in his cheeks.

You realize you're going to have to be the one to be brave this time again. "Well, this has been fun...."

Miguel scoffs, starting to bounce his leg under the table. "You say that in the most sarcastic tone known to man."

You return with a scoff of your own, adding a smile, "Well I mean, technically you were working this whole time, isn't that boring?"

Miguel shrugs, the heat in his face returning. "You made it more fun..." The volume in his voice decreasing to a murmur.

You look down as well, your heart fluttering in your chest. You really wanted to kiss him. Or just be closer to him, you don't know why. Of course he was cute as hell but after talking to him for hours, there was no denying a spark had formed. You just didn't know whether one or both of you would make the first move to actually do something about it.

Miguel can't believe that he's actually going to try and attempt to ask you to stay longer with him, but he's going to. Just to hang out some more, maybe keep up that amazing conversation you two were sharing just before this. Completely innocent.

Well, if the way the glow from the desk lamp keeps on making your face look so warm and alluring, he's not sure he'll have the strength to shut down any escapades that ensue later, as long as you're completely up for it, of course.

He inhales "Um...so not sure if you have things to do later or..."

You look at him, pupils widening with anticipation at his pending question.

He goes to say, "I was wondering if you wanted to keep hanging out," but it gets combined with the phrase, "Do you want to stay here a little longer," and the word jumbo that exits his mouth is a little incoherent.

"Was wondering if you were wondering to stay and keep hanging longer out?"

You blink rapidly at his blunder, and he groans, placing his face in his hands.

You immediately feel bad for him, shaking your head and sliding a hesitant hand towards his arm. You stumble over your words too sometimes and it's always fucking humiliating when it happens, so you feel no judgement towards him whatsoever. If anything now he's even more attractive. Every little cute thing about him is just pushing you towards him closer than ever before.

Your fingertips skim across the top of the table and press gently into his forearm. He slowly rolls his head to look at you, his cheek resting in his arms as his eyes look at you from behind his glasses which are slightly askew from the way his face is positioned.

His face is still red, but his heart flutters at your sweet smile. "Sorry, my brain just...takes a dump on me when I try to be smooth sometimes..." Miguel mumbles with a weak chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

You shake your head. "I do the same thing...but to answer your question....yes please..." Your voice becomes quieter at the word "please", an trickle of lust you added on purpose, hoping he's picking up on the vibe you're putting down with the way you're gazing into his eyes, your fingers pressed against his arm, the subtle scoot closer you just made with your chair.

Miguel releases a shaky breath, oh, he's paying attention alright. Damn it all if he doesn't take the leap right now. He decides to ask one more time to be sure, slowing down so he gets it right this time.

"Will....you stay longer, with me?" his voice is low, almost a whisper even though it's only the two of you in his dark library, but it's dripping with seduction. A low rumble from the rain clouds interrupts the pause between his question and your answer.

"Yeah..." you say softly back with double affirmation, a sneaky smile forming on your lips. He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, a woozy feeling in his stomach for what's about to happen in the next few minutes.

He excuses himself and goes back to his desk, typing on his computer, the excitement of having you alone making him just type nonsense for the first few moments, wheeling away some carts to the back and stowing a stray book back where it belongs. 

It's now 11 pm. Closing time. Miguel turns off all the lights except for his small desk lamp. The clouds are still rolling and rumbling outside with the wind whistling against the windows. Raindrops are still decorating the street. It's a beautifully dark, sensual scene just for the two of you. 

He laces his fingers in between yours and leads you to a dark space in between two large bookshelves. His hand is clammy, and he's a little embarrassed about it on the inside but you squeeze it reassuringly. There was literally nothing he could do at this point to make your crush on him go away. The shelves tower over both of you, even Miguel, who's 6 foot 9. 

He leans a hand against the shelf just above and to the right of your head. He accidentally pins a piece of your hair under his hand, making you wince a tiny bit. 

"Augh.." 

Miguel's eyes dart in alarm to search for what he did that caused you pain and he realizes your hair is trapped under his hand. He pulls it away, shaking his hand and flicking his fingers in an effort to free any of your strands from it. "Goddamit...." 

He rolls his head backwards in exasperation at his epic failure of having zero game tonight. You hold onto the flaps of his flannel, making him look at you. "Hey, hey come on...it's okay...." 

He finally looks down at you and his lips fall open at your beauty, his heart rate speeding up much more quickly now, and he brings a shaky hand to your face. In his mind, he can't help but realize he's being a huge hypocrite, committing the same sins as his horny patrons of getting busy in the library. But seriously though, at least he had the decency to make sure it was after closing when he was off the clock. 

You feel your knees go weak as he brings his other hand to your face, pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. He wets his lips and he leans in pressing his tongue gently in the space he opened in your bottom lip, begging to be let in. You oblige immediately, diving forward into his soft lips, goosebumps appearing on your arms. 

Oh fuck....this kiss felt good. He forgot how nice it felt to share intimacy with someone, those feelings that laid dormant for so long rising and nearly bubbling past the surface. It's all coming back to him as he just wills himself to get lost in the warmth of your mouth, the sheer layer of your Chapstick leaving a tasty feeling on his tongue. 

You considered yourself decently experienced, but the way his lips move on their own show you he's a force to be reckoned with and you'd be more than happy to sit back and let him handle things...this handsome, geeky, sweet librarian...

The noises you two make as you desperately kiss each other are little shuffles as you bump into the shelf behind you, with an occasional "oh fuck...," from Miguel. Hearing how turned on he's getting causes you to let your first moan escape your lips.

Once he hears it, he needs more. His hands make their way to your ass and hoist you up onto an empty bookshelf ladder and he sets you down on one of the rungs. You grab his shirt in your fists, not tearing your lips away from his. 

"Do you care about these?" Miguel says softly, out of breath, his mind running a million miles a minute before his actions can catch up to him, gently pinching the thin material of your tights between his thumb and pointer finger as his palms grip the soft flesh of your outer thighs. You shake your head no, wanting to fuck already. 

Then, his hand is in your crotch, ripping a whole right in the middle, tearing away at the fabric concealing your ripe pussy away from him as though it's the cover of a brand new novel. His cold pointer finger hooks behind your panties and pulls it to the side. You gasp loudly as you feel his finger and the cold air hit your soaked heat. 

He chuckles, his breaths still coming out in rapid, succession, the baritone hum of his voice only adding to the wetness between your legs. 

"Sorry, my hands are cold..." Then you can't believe what's happening when he drops to his knees, spreading you open like a book. His elbows pin your knees against the sides of the ladder, the wood pressing painfully into your kneecaps, but the sensation he gives you next makes you forget about the whole thing. 

His tongue glosses over your wet pussy like a finger stroking the edge of a page. His nose tickles the tiny hairs sprouting from it as he takes a deep breath in, the smell of you going straight to his cock. He teases the lips of your pussy for a moment, an agonizing back and forth along the slit...

....back....and..... forth

"God....you're so wet..." 

Back.....

"Miguel..." you whimper..

and forth...

"Fuck...." your fingers shake as you ball them into a fist...

before his tongue dips into your wet hole. Your back arches on instinct, making your body lurch forward, accidentally pushing his tongue further into you which he welcomes eagerly by gripping low on your ass to hold you in place. 

You shudder and twitch violently, throwing your head back at the insanely divine attention he's injecting between your thighs. Miguel pauses for a moment, tenderly licking the inside of your thigh before sealing it with a kiss as his eyes flicker up to you. 

"You okay?...." he whispers. 

You release a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, a slightly empty feeling as the mind numbing pleasure was abruptly switched off. 

"Yeah, yeah...I'm okay." 

Miguel reassumes his position, tongue fucking you. The soft pad of his tongue fondling the plush walls inside you. He lets out a low groan and he feels you turn to putty in his grasp, his head gently bobbing as his tongue completes lap after lap eating you, enjoying you, savoring you....every drop from that pretty pussy soon seeping out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin.

Your moans grow louder than they ever have, plucking him from his pussy-drunk state. He stands up in a panic and rips off his flannel, bunching it up as his eyes do a quick scan to make sure you're both still all alone. 

"Shhhh.....baby, we need to be quiet.....bite this for me." 

His angelic face comes up to look at you, his forehead pressing tenderly against yours and your eyes go half lidded at the sight of your arousal glistening down his chin, shiny on his thick neck from the thin flickers of moonlight that have managed to leak through the darkened windows of the library. 

You do as you're told, biting his flannel and he stuffed it hastily in your mouth, making a makeshift gag as your eyes water. His elbows assume their position pinning your thighs back and he's back between them again. 

You understand why he made you a gag as he goes directly for your clit this time. You yelp, your sound muffled by the fabric. Your nails dig into his shoulders, two perfect handles while you ride his face. The material of his shirt is thin and you feel every muscle ripple under your palms as he moves to keep fucking you with his mouth. 

Your clit throbs to near overstimulation but Miguel doesn't relent. He swirls his tongue with low sighs of appreciation, unable to tear himself away from the wet heaven in front of his face. 

His saliva and your slick mix together until it's all the same. The love you're dripping onto him and the love he's licking into you becoming a lewd stream of passion. He groans into your pussy as his bulging cock begs to relieve itself of all the cum built up with tormenting ache. 

He decides he wants to watch you cum. He gets up, replacing his tongue with his thumb and his first two fingers, pumping into you with a circular rhythm and easing your clit at a torturous pace. 

"On me, baby...." he whispers. 

Your eyes struggle to stay open as you look at him, a little unsure of what he said. "Mmmm?...." You ask with a high pitched sigh. 

"Keep those pretty eyes on me..." he repeats, his own eyes going half-lidded from the lure of your mouth hanging open. "Fuck...." 

He abandons his plan momentarily as he rips his flannel from your mouth to kiss you again. You invade his mouth with your tongue and he mumbles your name again in response. You start to taste yourself and then whimper when you realize the pleasure is beginning to become too much. 

"Miguel," you pant. "Baby, it's so much...." your breaths begin to hyperventilate. 

Miguel gives a low sigh when you say his name, his cock straining once more when he realized he drew you to say it. He tilts his head at you, his jaw open and curls into a smile when he sees how crazy he's driving you. 

"Cum f'me, baby. Wanna watch you while you do..." 

You try to look at a spot on the ceiling but Miguel interrupts your concentration when he moves his head to keep himself in your vision. The spiciness of this sexy encounter banishing all fears he had before. No, he won't let you look at anything else when you cum.

He gives a loud grunt and clasps a hand over your mouth, fingers turning white, muffling your cry of sweet release as you squirt all over his flannel, your passion causing a few books to collapse from the shelf. 

You shake and start to shiver all over as the sweat you produced during all the action starts to cool. Your hands are tingly and numb. Miguel gives a soft chuckle and presses a soft kiss into your temple with his wet lips and another one on your mouth before he returns his tongue to your thighs, collecting any remaining arousal left behind. 

You rest your head back on the ladder rung behind your head, reeling in your come down. He smiles and plants a kiss into your thigh before bidding it farewell, then comes up and hugs you, nestling you in his tantalizing embrace, as he rests his cheek in your hair. 

"Thank you..." you murmur, only barely sobering up from your high, his musk and cologne delivering you to a whole new state of intoxication. 

He smiles down at you in response and holds your face in both hands, running his thumbs along your cheeks. 

"See me tomorrow?" 

You practically melt at those big brown eyes of his, glasses still slightly askew and the neck of his wrinkled shirt dampened with his sweat, silently hoping you will. 

You beam up at him and nod enthusiastically and he chuckles and plants a line of kisses on your neck as you giggle underneath him. After a few soft hugs and another round of delicate kisses, he walks you to the door. Making you promise you'll call him as soon as you get home as a reluctant compromise at his uneasiness of you walking alone in the dark.

He watches you walk away into the night and doesn't stop until he sees you safely board the bus. He turns around and goes back inside the library, shutting off his desk light with a small click. 

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #spotify #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #Spotify

[cas-backwards-tie]

The Devil In Manhattan Masterlist

Laszlo Kriezler x Reader

Summary: Attempting to provide for yourself as a woman living on her own in New York City, you pursue a job at the controversial, yet esteemed Kriezler Institute.

Warnings: Scolding, Rudeness, PTSD

Mentions of: Murder

Chapters: A Change In Attitude |

#laszlo kriezler x reader #the alienist reader insert #the alienist x reader #the devil in manhattan series #tdim series #my writing #my series #tdim masterlist #tdim #the devil in manhattan #the devil in manhattan masterlist #the alienist au

[luminiamore]

plug connie springer x black stripper reader

warnings: boy is down bad, a little bit of mikasa x reader??, mikasa is famous heree, connie is a tease, he’s also hispanic asf, ya’ll didn’t even make it to the club, hints of yandere, mirror action, he fucks u while he’s crossfaded, wall sex, he talks a lot, dude is rambling, good ole cream pie, gotta love breeding

a/n: i got carried away (⌒_⌒;)

can you guys tell i like my men desperate lol, this is so long i might make this a series (4.9k words)

one down, like five more to goooo

The lifestyle of stripping was something you truly couldn’t get enough of. The late nights. The smooth poles. Dancing on those smooth poles. And most importantly, the money. Oh fuck, how you loved the money. Living the fast life gave you such a rush that you adored it just as much as you hated it.

It’s not your first choice, not by a long shot. You were raised in Jamaica, New York. And your parents., you loved them. Honestly, you did, but you would probably be the most miserable person in the world if you kept heeding their strict Christian views.

You tried everything to reach up to their impossibly high standards. They wanted you to get an A in every assignment? Try A+. They wanted you to wear less revealing clothes because ‘No man will ever want you’? You’re showing up to your classes in turtlenecks just to keep their mouths shut.

You even made it a routine to clean the entire house top to bottom on Sundays since they started complaining that ‘You never do anything around this house.’ It was beyond annoying. You were fucking tired.

Growing up in Notre Dame School of Manhattan was nothing short of horrible. Proclaimed ‘good girls’ snorting more than half a line of coke in the school bathrooms. Drugs you aren’t even sure how they got access to, but then again, they are rich white kids. Teachers and hypocritical professors pretend to be oblivious to the bullshit drama their students are in. Your parents’ oblivion for keeping you here is even greater. Even after sharing stories with them, they would advise you to be more like the students at your school.

It was a miracle you didn’t turn out that far gone, despite what your profession is currently. You’ve smoked a little weed here and there. Experience some sort of awakening tripping off shrooms the weekend your parents took a trip to Barbados.

Without you, of course. Despite this, you were always taken care of. Your differences in opinion would never justify their abandonment of you. You knew they loved you when they got you a ticket to see The Weeknd live after you got a perfect score on your final, not after telling you their opinions on the matter, of course.

‘I don’t know why you listen to such devil music.’

‘I should’ve never gotten you this trash.’

The guilt you felt for wanting to have fun kept you from almost going. You went anyway, choosing to avoid allowing their misery to affect you.

Everything was fine; you played along with this draining game, and everything was fine. Until they decided to kick you out for finding a small baggie of blow (that wasn’t even yours) peeking out from the top of your purse. You don’t even know how it got there.

Honestly, you didn’t. You tried to communicate that while they were packing all the clothes they could find in your closet into two medium-sized luggage bags. But they wouldn’t listen, opting for screaming so loud you could see the neighbors peeking through the window. At the very least, they were kind enough not to throw them onto the concrete ground. Their stubbornness was unyielding. You just couldn’t get through to them.

You were able to rent an apartment you had put a deposit on a month before this happened because of the money in your savings account. Unfortunately, your funds were only sufficient for rent for two months due to groceries and other necessities.

When graduation came, your parents were nowhere to be found, so you realized that you had to find a means of earning money before you ended up sleeping on the streets.

You tried looking for a ’regular’ job -- a barista, a waitress, even applied to be a fucking bartender. It’s not as easy as it seems when those who already have one talk about finding a job. Why do they claim that they need to hire immediately and yet still reject you? Considering that your lack of work experience prevents you from being hired, you feign a little on your resume. Turns out, you’re not a very good liar.

Where was pretty privilege when you needed it?!

Despite applying to 500 companies, none could offer you a job within the next two weeks, which happened to be when your rent was due.

You really had no other option. You took your pretty ass and marched to the nearest club. Which happened to be the... Hustlers club? Why did that sound familiar? 

Upon entering, you outright demanded to speak with the person in charge, and when you saw him, he demanded that he offer you a job. Lucky for you, the owner happened to be there that day. He observed the little moment you had when you stormed in..well, he observed the way your tits bounced in your low-cut tee and immediately pulled you into his office.

He had the thought that you would make him a lot of money if you worked for him, and he’s sure his business partner would agree if she saw you. He just had to make sure.

A figure appeared in the corner, striking up from the edge of his desk and making a slight sniffling noise. A girl, a beautiful one with distinct Asian features. Her leather skirt was short, only barely covering past 2 inches of her thigh. Her tits were pushed up to a necklace in a black corset-like top. An ornamental gold necklace.. with the letter M.

Wait. Is that-

That’s where it dawned on you why the name of this club sounded so familiar. On a random Tuesday afternoon, you find yourself standing in front of a celebrity. You were standing in front of Mikasa Ackerman. The Mikasa Ackerman. As in, owner of Mirror Palais, the highest-paid model in Japan, co-owner of one of the best clubs in New York, Mikasa Ackerman. Oh shit.

You remember seeing her on an Instagram reel in front of this very club, along with the other owner. The other owner, his name was.. what was it again? He swivels you around to face him, almost as if he hears your thoughts,

“Eren Yeager, sweetheart.”

A soft handshake accompanied by a gentle tone. He was quick to introduce you to the beautiful eyes that stayed fixed on your face since you walked into the dimly lit room. Eren guides you towards the brown leather couch where his friend is sitting,

“And, this is the lovely Mikasa. I’m sure you sure you know who she is.”

Feeling intimidated by her intense gaze, you nodded quickly and stumbled a bit when introducing yourself. Her following words didn’t calm your nerves anyhow,

“A real pleasure meeting you, beautiful.”

Eren could tell that Mikasa already liked you; the girl was practically fucking you with her eyes. But he wasn’t here for that; he cleared his throat to draw attention to him in the room. He had a goal in mind: to get you signed up. Eren wanted you dancing in his club today.

He sits you down and swiftly gets into business mode.

‘What kind of position are you looking for?’

‘What’s the minimum salary you want to earn here?’

He tries to get a sense of what you’re looking for before proposing to work as a stripper. Although he wants you to, he can compromise. Server position and the minimum salary you asked for was $65,000.

“And I’m not leaving til I get that or something better.”

Well, you wanted better, right? Eren explains to you that his club didn’t have any more waitress positions and Mikasa...

Well, that day, you found out that she was really good with words. She did a great job at convincing you that you’d make double the amount you asked for moving your perfect body on the pole. I mean...

“Look at that body of yours. You’d be pretty famous here, sweetheart.”

And shit, she was right. You really couldn’t blame the girls who never wanted to leave, simply too addicted to the drugs, to the fast life, especially to the money. The amount of money you made every night was simply insurmountable. And you found it funny because it wasn’t just the money. Really, it wasn’t.

The sensation that occurs when your lower body rotates on the pole. The art of dancing like this ignited such a passion from you. The attention, from the men and the women. One of the most popular clubs in the city had you as a crowd favorite. You knew it shouldn’t be something you liked; you never wanted to get too wrapped up in a life like this. But shit, it was sensational.

You didn’t let it slip, even though you shined on the stage. There are people who would take advantage of you even more if they knew you actually enjoyed what you do; you know this. When it was time to go, you left with no hesitation. You had to remind yourself of what you were here for, to provide and care for yourself until you find a better job.

And you stuck to that goal for a solid five months; nothing deterred you. Of course, that’s what you’re thinking. In reality, from the very first moment Eren had you on that pole, you found yourself coming back for one reason. Even if you weren’t subconsciously aware of it, him.

Connie, you heard the owner greet one day. He was definitely attractive. There was something about him, something about how he threw money at you and only you. Your body shivered without fail due to the gray eyes that watched your every move. The way he man spreads and tilts his head back when taking a hit, revealing neck tattoos that you know cover his stomach under that black Nike Tech hoodie. He was so fucking fine.

Only a few men can pull off a buzz cut. How does he do it so effortlessly? Maybe it was the color? How would he change it like it was nothing every two weeks?

You noticed he had a thin mustache, and when you got closer to his face.. Fuck. Was that a diamond nose ring?

He was a drug dealer. You caught that three months ago. Around that point, he began asking for you to exclusively serve his section. Eren had no problem with that; after all, this was his friend. But Connie started getting.. greedy. He wanted more than that. He started getting bold. He wanted your body on that twirling solely for him.

“Hell no.”

Eren filled the quiet section. Your body was followed by both green and gray eyes as you moved on the stage, with Connie’s eyes being more intense and focused compared to the other. The thriving club was filled with both of them enjoying a glass of Richard Hennessy Cognac in the VIP area.

Connie never had a good relationship with mixing Henny and weed. He was aware of that. He has a tendency to indulge in sinful thoughts. He didn’t let that stop him from rolling the blunt anyway.

His mind would get drawn towards dangerous places, mainly when he saw you. The way your thong disappeared between your cheeks under your lacey two-piece made him ready to fuck you right there. To show those perverted and prickly eyes that stuck like glue onto you that they could never have you. That you were his. Or, you will be.

Connie hasn’t even fucked you yet. Hasn’t gone anywhere near the sticky wetness he knows you have in between your legs.

You two indulge in what you could only describe as subtle grinding in the back rooms. All the dancing that you’re supposed to be doing on the pole, you’re doing on his lap instead. It was against the rules; you especially knew this. That didn’t stop either of you. Well, more so Connie than you.

At first, his best friend was against it. The customers you brought in were earning him at least $100k a night. While his other show girls were beautiful, you radiated a different type of aura onto the stage. You were something different. It was genuinely insane how you could move, you didn’t even have prior training. You found that every night, you got better than the previous; it was a natural talent.

Connie, being Connie, offered Eren twice that amount for every night he gets to spend with you alone. That was every night you were on the clock, besides, he had no problem making that back by the next day. When it came to his girl, there was never a problem for him.

And Connie never regretted the amount he spent on you. Being alone with you was something he had grown to crave incessantly. To him? It was worth it. He’d get so excited to just walk into the back room and find you waiting for him. All pretty, just tempting him to ruin you. Then, when you start performing in front of him, your body moves in a way that would hypnotize the stoic man.

And it wasn’t just your body to Connie. There was a certain allure to you. He was observant of the way you moved, spoke, and behaved. He understood that someone like you doesn’t come by every day. He just had to have you, own you. Your body, your fucking soul, everything you possessed, he wanted it for himself. He didn’t care if it sounded selfish; he’s okay with being that when it comes to you.

It’s reasonable to assume that he would have the final say on what you wear for him since he was the only person you would dance for, right? That was the route he took to get your number. That’s the reason you got a text from him while you were getting ready to shower for your night shift.

One of his friends- Was he talking about Mikasa?

You could have given it more thought, but your shift was only an hour away, and Connie was on his way. Using a small gray towel, you drape it onto the fat of your wet boobs. Your hands lather your Shea Butter oil on the top of your left thigh quickly, but you stop when your doorbell rings.

“Coming!”

You yelp, quickly slip on your slippers, and move toward the door. The man had always taken you home, and on the other side of the coin, he always took you to work. You didn’t bother asking how he knew your address the first time, afraid that it would spark an answer you’re not ready to hear. Occasionally, if you were too intoxicated to carry yourself to your apartment, he would act as your knight in shining armor and hold you in bridal fashion to your door without saying a word.

It should have been simple enough: he goes in and gets out. And it would have been that simple if he hadn’t seen your pink lacy thong loosely hanging off your door knob. He was simply a man, one who desired to feel every part of you. The tip of that thong was hanging out of his pockets when Connie left your apartment that night.

Swinging your door open makes you almost breathless. Connie was a tall person. Everything about him just screamed: big. He was easily over 6 feet 2 inches tall, and he came to your door carrying a medium-sized shopping bag. You step back, observing as he comes in right after taking his slides off by your door.

“You’re here early, Con. I’m not ready yet.” You whisper, still a little perplexed he’s already here. Despite the amount of money you know he has, you rarely ever see him in anything other than a white tee and black sweats. Today was no different. Minor differences in each pair made it clear that they were different every time. You suppose it had something to do with his dangerous line of work.

He hands you the cream-colored bag, and his eyes never leave your lips all the while. You suddenly became very conscious that you were breathing the same air as Connie, who appeared right in front of you. He leans in, the ghost of his lips felt against your collarbone,

“You smell good,” His tatted hands sneakily climbed their way onto your wide hips. Before muttering a curse under his breath, he squeezes once. For the first time since meeting you, Connie isn’t being truthful. He didn’t come to your apartment to take you to your job. Tonight, he had different intentions.

He came tonight to put a full stop to the cat-and-mouse game that you guys have been playing for the past five months. Two fully packed blunts and three shots of Don Julio convinced him that his attraction towards you was not going away.

He should’ve realized it when he started making a habit of watching over you outside of the strip club. She needs someone to protect her, he thinks. You don’t pay attention to your surroundings. You have no idea, don’t you? Your beauty could easily lead to someone from the club becoming obsessed and following you. Anyone who wasn’t him.

He also should’ve realized it when he started beating his dick into overstimulation to your pictures on Instagram. And after your shift. Of course, before your shift. Eren witnessed him having to excuse himself during your shift because his dick was painfully throbbing against his boxers.

Connie really liked you. And somewhere in that twisted mind of his, he believed that you two were truly meant for each other. He should’ve never waited this long, “Put this on, ma.”

He pushes the bag towards your chest and moves your hips in the direction of your room. Your thighs twitch as you hum and make a little run to the end of your hall. He follows after you slowly, eyes shifting to the way your ass peaks out from under the towel.

This scene feels oddly familiar. A predator stalking its prey, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You didn’t know what Connie came here to do; in your mind, you were just getting ready for work. He almost felt sorry for you, almost felt sorry for how he was going to ruin you, almost.

He made sure to take his time approaching your door so that you could be ready and prepared for him when he arrived. And you didn’t disappoint. In front of your vanity makeup mirror, you were sat on the cushion chair. Applying what looked like oil from a flower bottle onto your neck.

You look better in the dress than he expected. Your fat tits sitting so perfectly, and the lace meshing with your skin. You pretended to ignore him behind your seat, starting to feel the weight of his presence around you. This was probably the thinnest item you had ever owned, yet his hands pressing on your shoulders made your skin feel like it was on hot volcanic soil.

You catch his eye in the mirror, and despite your flustered state, he doesn’t grant you the satisfaction of looking away. Not even while his hands lower down to your rib cage, right under your plush boobs. Especially not even while his giant palms wrap around the fabric covering your nipple in a tight grip.

You gasp, a moan bottling in your throat, “C-Con!”

It could have been the way you uttered his name or the way your head pressed against his chest. Regardless, Connie lost control and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, beginning to sprinkle small, wet kisses. He grips harder, and you... you get louder.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Your flesh is now exposed to his hands as they slip into the dress. “Skin so soft,” He kneads his hands into your chest, squeezing as if he’s hoping milk will pour out of them. He groans, “God, you’re so perfect mama.” The thought of that makes a shiver run down his body.

Poor Mikasa, she spent all night working on that dress once she heard it was for you. Connie didn’t even let it last for a good ten minutes before you heard a faint rip sound in the midst of your whimpers.

Your brain is struggling to keep up with the speed of everything happening. You attempt to tilt your head back, but he shuts it down right away. “Eyes on the mirror.” He moves one hand to your throat, keeping you still. You feel your body shake under his hold, twitching slightly from his small attack. You didn’t have the courage to look away, not even as far as you could.

“I’ve been so patient.” Squeezing your left nipple, he drops his fingers down the ripped material until they reach the top of your pussy lips. “Cumming to the thought of your pretty face like a fucking teenager,” His words bring a mewl to your lips. Your body starts sweating, nervous at the way his fingers are just rubbing circles around your skin.

Would he pull away if your hips jerked against his hand? You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t. You’ve never allowed yourself to feel this desperate for anyone, but being around Connie left you like this. You were at a loss for what to do. Your thoughts were racing to find something, anything, that would bring him closer to you.

It’s unclear what motivated him to answer your prayers. But in the next moment, he pushed his middle finger into the center of where your slick was overflowing onto the cushion. He creates slight tap sounds with the puddle between your fat lips, playing with you.

Your eyes close for just a second and burst wide open when you feel a sudden intrusion in your sticky hole. “A-Ah!” A sob leaves your lips, your eyes falling back to your face in the mirror when you register his next words,

“Eyes on the mirror, mama. I haven’t done anything to you yet,” As Connie slowly moves his fingers into and out of your dripping core, his eyes struggle to keep track of your face in the mirror or the stain you’re beginning to make on his digits.

He settles with the stain you’re creating. He’s massaging your walls in a way that you can’t help but cover them in a creamy white. It’s impossible not to moan with shaky breaths, whispering his name. He figures the wait was worth it. His dreams couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. It was more noisy, was more sticky, and it was.. real.

What do you taste like?

Your hips shake as he suddenly removes his fingers from you. You whimper, annoyed by the absence of the touch of fingers on your wet walls, but you stop yourself when you see his movements in the mirror. His mouth wraps around his middle and ring finger, sucking your juices to the fullest. Your breathing stops when he moans, “You taste so fucking good.”

Connie silently pulls you up from your seat and presses you against the nearest wall, causing the ripped dress to fall to the floor. Instantly, your back arched into the prominent bulge that was pressing on your bare ass. Your thoughts wander back to your last session with Connie in the backroom. All that desperate grinding.

“You were squeezing so tight around my fingers,” He pushes his sweat down to remove his throbbing hard dick with a little effort. “Y’gonna squeeze my dick like that next?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

You jump every time the base of his cock slaps down on your ass. Both of his hands grip your sides, his eyes rolling back as he slides his dick back and forth in between your leaking pussy lips.

“Oh f-fuck! Connie,”

Your voice cracks when you call out for him, and he smiles. He cannot deny that this is the perfect thing; it was always meant to be like this. He spreads your cheeks as wide as he can, lining his tip up to your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

“Yeah, b-baby?” Fuck, you were so wet. “Want me to fuck you? Want- Oh fuck. Want Connie to make you scream?”

Your lips tremble, and you try to slide his dick inside you by pushing your hips back. He lets you, too weak himself, to stop you from taking what you wanted. All you can think right now is Connie, Connie, fucking Connie.

“Shittt. Want y-y’to to make me cum! P-please!”

Pushing him even further inside without his help proves to him that you truly want him to make you scream. You’re barely making it halfway with his thick and long build. Connie is incredibly proud of you right now, taking his dick like a desperate bitch and moaning to fuck the rest of his inches in.

He pulls a little of himself out of you, only to flush his hips abruptly against yours with one single push. Groaning at the same time you gasp out, he whispers in your ear, “Scream for daddy, mama.”

You were so full. His cock tip was touching places that you’ve never been to on your own before, causing your mind to go haywire. His pressure against your cervix was so intense it would have been painful if you weren’t so wet. You oblige almost embarrassingly quickly the moment you feel his dick drag at a steady pace inside of you.

Connie regrets not having done this sooner, as the drugs he took earlier are still mixing in his system, alternating and speeding up his thoughts. His body was ablaze. You’re covering the entire length of his dick with your juices, causing him to become frantic and desperate to get more out of you. His thrusts match his crave. You were warm, and your cries were heaven to his ears, “Big! Y’re so b-big, daddy!”

You’re not complaining, far from it, as he tears your pussy to shreds. In fact, you’re taking him so well, and he praises you for it. Like he said, you were made for this moment, for him. You’re such a,

“Good girl. Fuck! My g-good girl takes me so well,”

He can hear your slick drip on the floor below you despite the smacking sound in your room. You’re so needy for him, as he is for you. The walls echoed with your wailing sounds as you fucked him back, making Connie shudder.

He’s gonna cum. He can feel his balls churning as they slap repeatedly against your twitching clit. Fuck. He’s gonna cum so deep inside you he prays it reaches your womb. Although it’s his first time exploring the depths of your perfect cunt, he recognizes that you’re also going to cum.

He can tell by the way your legs are shaking rapidly, by the way, your moans get higher in pitch, by the way, you’re whispering his name out like a prayer. And he’s determined to make you cum before him. Do you squirt? Do you cream? He thinks he’ll die and go to heaven if it’s both. Your next plea erupts another groan to tumble out his mouth,

“M’gonna- M’gonna cum! O-oh fuck- M’gonna cum so h-hard.”

Holding your arms behind your back with his tatted hand, he moves his hips inside you at a faster pace than ever before. “Shit. Me t-too, mama.” He angles his waist to keep pressing into that spongy spot that makes you tremble. “Just like that. Cum, baby. C-cum all over this fat dick.”

Small tears start to fall down your brown cheeks, and your back arches sharply on Connie, causing your stomach to clench at once. The man above you receives both your cream and squirt splashing from your sweet core, and you weep. Your muffled moans fill the air as he cranes your neck towards him for a nasty, drooling kiss.

As he gets closer to his orgasm, his rapid thrusts become sloppy and crazed, and his heart beats twice as fast as he sees the beauty fucked out underneath him. The more Connie moved inside of you, the more he swayed. Your essence was covering his lower half so much that he couldn’t wait another minute before dumping his kids against your cervix, a shaky moan accompanying his release.

His thrusts slow down, causing tiny drops to spill onto the floor, but his lips never leave yours, and he has to remind himself to let you breathe when you start to whine against his mouth. He lets you go and instead presses tiny kisses against your panting mouth.

Both of you, Connie in particular, were on cloud nine. Your clenching onto him brings Connie’s mind back to Earth, but he is not satisfied. He wanted to go again. He needed it, so it was only natural he started moving at a steadfast pace inside you again.

“Again. Let’s go a-again, mama. Shitt. Your pussy is so-”

Before that night, you’ve never experienced pleasure on this level. Connie took you, on every corner of the house. Both of you left unaware of Eren’s multiple missed calls as he fucked his cum into you like a dog in heat. It’s safe to say that you didn’t show up for work that night or the night after. Connie made sure you never danced at a strip club again.

@hatake05 @thickbihhwitdagapp 🫶🏾

#lumiwrites #plug connie #connie springer x black reader smut #18+ content #aot smau #aot smut #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot x black y/n #connie springer #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie x you #mikasa ackerman #mikasa aot #connie aot #connie attack on titan #eren yeager x black reader #eren yeager #mikasa x reader #mikasa x black reader #aot fanfiction #x black reader smut

[lilykatelyn-blog]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 1 - 𝓵.𝓶𝓱 - LILY’S KINKTOBER

Demon!Lee Know x AngelFem!Reader

theme: choking

pt. 2

genre: smut, ig fluff at the end? Idek.

warnings: ewb2l (enemies with benefits to lovers) choking, collars, reader has sensitive wings that can retract, penetration, monster cock, making out, fingering, drunk guy (for one second), references of Satan and the devil so if you are uncomfortable with that I would recommend not reading it, also they have telepathy??, Dom!Min, Sub!Reader, they’re both kinda switch towards the end of the smut scene, unsafe sex.

wc: 1.4k

MINORS DNI

smut under the cut

It’s been a while since you’ve last been to hell, or seen him. Every now and then when you were on earth, your brain would play tricks on you, making you think you saw him. Your human friends finally managed to drag you out of your apartment and into a club, full of drunkards and people looking for a good time. You just needed a few drinks and to unwind. “I’ll take a gin and tonic, on the rocks.” You told the bartender, he complied, making your order at the back while you waited. When he got back with your order, you heard a familiar voice order a familiar drink. “I’ll take a Manhattan, on the rocks.” He ordered, you tried to not turn around and look at him, opting to walk away, but his voice stopped you. “Long time no see, Angel.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, it made you wet and want to hurl at the same time. “Long time no see, jackass.” You replied, walking back towards him. “So, what you been up to? I hope you haven’t been sleeping around with anyone but me.” He asked, the last part making you pissed. “We’re not dating Lee.” You replied curtly, he simply smirked again. God, you wanted to slap that attractive smirk off of his extremely attractive face. “Oh, but you know if the big boss knew of what you did with me, you’d be removed. An ordinary human.” You tsked at the very obvious statement. “No shit, Sherlock. It was one time.” “It was 7 times that, darling.” He whispered in your ear, making you shudder. “See you, princess.” He grabbed his Manhattan and went to dance, leaving you speechless.

“So.. who was that hottie that you were talking to at the bar, huh?” Your friend nudged you after you got back with your drink. “It was no one, an old friend.” You lied, not thinking she would ask about schooling years. “Ooh! Primary or Secondary School?” “Neither. An old job, I quit it and haven’t seen him or kept in touch since.” They all went back to their own conversation after you explained it, you could practically feel Minho’s eyes burning holes in the back of your head. Meet me outside, princess. I own an apartment 2 blocks away. His voice rung in your head, you just agreed, knowing how this goes and that you will be back to strangers in no less than 12 hours.

“finally, you listen.” His annoying voice spoke from behind you as you exited the club. “Finally, you stop calling me ‘princess’.” You mock, his smirk returning. “I’ll never stop that habit, Angel. You should visit me down in hell sometime soon.” He winked, leading you into a cab. The entire ride, his hand was on your thigh, going up, only to go back to your knee. He was obviously riling you up, so you decided that two can play at that game. You slowly creeped your hand up his toned torso , and then his chest, and then his throat, lightly circling it as his breath hitched, only to bring it down to your lap. You got out, him paying and leading you to his apartment. As soon as he unlocked it, you were pressed against the door, his tongue being shoved down your throat. You moaned as he went down your jaw and neck, making sure not to leave any marks so that you could both keep your wings. “Bedroom,” you breathed, tugging his hair, he lifted you up, leading you to his bed. He sat down, making you straddle him, going back to your make out session. He pulled away, you chased his lips while pouting. “Hm, anyone ever been as good as me? Maybe that drunk guy that you ran away with for a few minutes?” He whispered, going back to his assault on your neck. “No-no one. I-I escorted him back to his car- Minho!” You choked out, throwing your head back as he found your sweet spot, mouthing at it for a few more seconds. “I want this off.” He tugged at your tight white shirt. You complied, letting him take it off of you, suddenly remembering you wore your black matching bra and panties set. “Shit.” He murmured, his mouth going straight to your chest, kissing them over the fabric while his other hand went to your other boob. “May I?” He asked, despite being a devil, still a gentleman. You nodded, giving silent confirmation. As soon as it was off, he went to your nipple, sucking harshly. “Nngh- please,” you whined, he just chuckled, pinching the other one. He pulled away despite your pleas, he silently asked to remove your skirt. You hummed, lifting your hips up for him to remove the garment. He pulled both your underwear and skirt down in one movement, flipping you onto your back.

he got in between your legs and spread your lips. “Beautiful..” he trailed off, giving a singular lick and then coming up to make you taste yourself. He sat on his knees, removing his shirt and revealing his beautiful abs and scars. Getting back over you, he kissed you again. While his tongue explored your mouth, you traced his abs and scars, the one that you kept coming back to was the one on his midriff, a result of a nasty encounter with his father before he became a demon. Finally, he pulled away and tugged his sweats down, leaving him in his boxers. He didn’t bother removing his jewelry, and walked over to the dresser, you got on your elbows and looked in confusion. “What-“ “it’s a collar, Angel. Chill, I’m not gonna leave you high and dry after how hard you got me.” He signaled to his huge cock, bigger than any dildo you’ve ever seen or felt.

“Wonder how you still have those beautiful white pearly wings after all we’ve done together, considering the wings are a sign of purity. I’d say your anything but after all we’ve done.” He went on as he fastened the collar around your neck. “Beautiful.. and it’s all mine.” He traced the collar around your neck, pushing you down. “Open your wings, gonna use them for your first orgasm.” He commanded, and obviously, you complied. Your wings were out and super sensitive as well, he slowly traced them with the tips of his fingers, resulting in a series of whimpers from you. His fingers circled your hole to prep you, only teasing, not going in. He had you distracted with your wings, taking you by surprise when his fingers pushed in and out at a brutal pace “Ah! Min-Minho!” You moaned, losing your ability to use your brain, the only coherent thing coming out of your mouth was pleas for him to keep going. Not long after your high, he took his fingers out and replaced them with his huge dick, only making your cries of his name speed up. He went at an ungodly pace, god, you were so close already that it was kinda embarrassing how quick he got you there. “Oh god, oh god, oh god- hnngh” your moans were soeeding up, as was your breath, your words got cut off by his tip hitting just the right spot. “Not god, baby. Lee Minho.” He whispered, getting you an intense amount closer to the edge. “I’m-“ “let it out for me, Angel.” That brought you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a boulder. “Shit, I’m close, getting close- mmph.” He started whining, his words interrupted by your hand shaking up his chest, squeezing his throat just hard enough to tip him over. “That’s it, Min. Let go..” you trailed off, feeling him spill into you. After he cleaned up and lay beside you, you both fell asleep in each others embrace.

The following morning, you woke up alone, to a note. Angel, I know you’re probably confused since I never leave, but I had to go to work for my ‘Human’ job. Do me a favor and stay, yeah? I’ll be back in a few hours, considering how late you wake up. I don’t have roommates and I still have a pair of your clothes from last time, either that or you can wear my button up and your panties, ya know, a little treat for when I get home? Anyways, stay there and here’s my cell: ***-***-****

P.S. I refrigerated breakfast, your favourite. Text me if you need anything, your dog was well fed before I left, so don’t worry. We’ll talk later, but you should consider moving in with me, at least until we have to go back. I love you! <3

This is gonna be fun.

note: send an ask if you want a part 2 because I, myself, wanted to write a part 2 that isn’t part of kinktober. Also I’m sorry that this is kinda half assed Love you guys! <333

TAGLIST:

@aaasia111, @hgema, @obeythemasters, @imwithurmother, @unlikelysublimekryptonite, @virluna148, @sanzusfavgf, @ivyisnotokay, @stanskzsstuff, @luvkpopp

#Skz #stray kids #skz Lee know #stray kids Lee know #skz smut #stray kids smut #Lily’s kinktober #Lee know smut #skz Lee know smut #stray kids Lee know smut #Skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader

[aroaceleovaldez]

i desperately need the fandom to do more with the fact that Percy’s attitude/emotions/physical state are directly influenced by the water around him even if he’s not directly interacting with it.

Every time we see Percy in the winter he’s notably more cold and snappier and easily annoyed, or generally is more serious when he’s in a cold environment. He gets more aggressive and prone to violence when by the rivers of the Underworld. He literally becomes toxic when Achlys brings out her poisons. He gets more mellow and generally more confident or at ease when by the Pacific, and gets even more mellow/goofy when in the Mediterranean. He gets overwhelmingly fatigued in the evil aquarium when all the tanks have sedatives in them, even though he doesn’t directly interact with the water at all. He also gets stronger when it rains. But also can create rain. Don’t think about that part too much, that’s really OP. Also his eyes (and Sally’s!) change color to match the water around him. Our “standard” for Percy is in the summer and next to the Atlantic (specifically in either Manhattan or Long Island. Does this change things significantly? Idk, up to you, but they have been cleaning up the Hudson a lot in recent years). This is his “default.” Every other scenario he’s going to start leaning to match the weather or water.

So where’s all the content of Percy going to different places and just shenanigans of how this affects him. Percy goes to a salt flat and is just so snarky the entire time (and his eyes look like mirrors). Percy getting grumpy in the desert or landlocked states. Percy going to Devils Hole in Death Valley and just gets really scary for .2 seconds. Percy going to Grand Prismatic Spring in Yellowstone and his eyes just turn rainbow. Percy at the grocery store walking by the lobsters and he just has a whole breakdown cause they’re so stressed it fucks him up, or he walks by the betta isle in a pet store and nearly dies instantly cause all the little betta cups are just pure ammonia. Someone uses one of those water flavor things in their drink and Percy’s eyes turn the same color for a minute. Percy somehow just walks by the Fountain of Salmacis and is just really confused by the directions his thoughts go in for the all of like two minutes he spends within radius of it. Come on people, we have options.

#pjo #percy jackson #riordanverse #character analysis #< like half char analysis i suppose #there's a paragraph of analysis in there i'll count it

[robsheridan]

From the pages of SPECTAGORIA magazine issue 6, 1974. Spectagoria was a renowned underground fashion photography magazine surrounded by rumor and mystery. Founded by iconoclastic photographer/filmmaker Sera Clairmont initially as a showcase of her own work, the publication drew controversy for its dark themes and morbid imagery, which often used beauty, sexuality, and fashion as a means to, in Clairmont’s words, “let speak the darkness that surrounds us from other worlds.”

Christian groups in the United States called for a ban of the magazine, with Jerry Falwell accusing Clairmont of being “a witch and a pornographer in league with the devil himself.” Clairmont dismissed the accusations as “just more blatant examples of the sexism and double-standards that led me to forge my own path in a male-dominated industry.” But the boycott drew scrutiny to the magazine’s photographs, which at times contained images that seemed impossible, even supernatural, in nature. Some wondered if Sera Clairmont was related to Seraphina Clairmont, the famous Manhattan mystic who “spoke to demons” and lived at the mysterious Zorovic Building at the turn of the 20th century, and was rumored to have been buried alive in the building’s 1913 destruction.

Sera Clairmont went into hiding in 1976, but continued to publish Spectagoria until the early 80s, growing stranger and darker with each issue, fueling even more speculation that otherworldly powers were behind it before its abrupt end. No one knew where it was being published from, nor where - or *how* - its photos were taken. Very few copies of each issue of Spectagoria were printed, and today only a handful of scattered pages have been located and scanned. I will continue to share more pages as I find them...

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NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

#rob sheridan #synthography #ai art #ai horror #ai fashion #synthography horror #horror art #ai photography #70s horror #cult horror #alternate history #horror stories #writing #spectagoria #sera clairmont