#and try to sell that to pay for the silver fabric

[discountalien-pancake]

Fucking darts the placement is so inconvenient but look at this side-by-side and tell me this pattern isn’t exactly the perfect shape for Galadriel’s chestplate:

Obviously the bottom hem needs a bit more spring and a different curve but I’m making a fucking waistcoat so it’s not like i’m that concerned about being screen-accurate. The buttons will be replaced with hooks and eyes so that i can make the edges meet exactly in the center without overlap. And obviously the collar will need to be altered, both for accuracy and comfort.

I essentially want this bodice to be functional as a cosplay and potentially as an evening gown bodice as well.

These are the colors I’m contemplating right now for the final version:

I’m leaning towards lower left but I need to get swatches to make sure.

[tobylix-blog]

Gratitude - Aragorn x f!Reader

Content & Warnings: platonic, fluff(ish) Word count: 3.6k Summary: Aragorn returns to become a king and pay back for the kindness of a merchant's daughter, whom he has met during his past visit to Minas Tirith.

You open the store once again. The city is wrecked. The siege was barely three days ago. But the market is the first place to come back to life. As long as it's loud and busy the city lives. Your storage is filled. By some miracle no fire or stone has touched your street. You fix the door open and hang out a long piece of cloth - a sign that the store is working. You turn back to tidy up the shelves behind the counter when someone steps in. Judging by the sound of voices several people come in at once.

"A minute, gentlemen, I'm almost with you," you say over the shoulder, not quite looking at them yet.

The voices are quiet, and for a moment all is silent in the store. Then a loud thud comes. You turn to see a whole bag of coins on the counter as a rich, melodious voice sounds from among the men.

"My friends will need the finest clothes for the coronation and so will you, miss".

Your eyes slowly rise from the counter to the man speaking. His familiarity strikes as a low blow. His appearance changed drastically and yet hardly noticeably. He stands proud and is wearing fine clothing with the White tree of Gondor on it, but the gaze of his gray eyes is as piercing as before.

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The street is busy with people. Morning rush in the market doesn't fade until noon when the sun gets just too high. Through dozens of conversations unfolding between merchants and customers bargaining over the goods, old friends who suddenly met in the middle of chaos and servants figuring out how to get it over with sooner, you hear a distinct male voice saying. "Get lost, outlander! Northerners are out of their mind if they think I will sell them even a piece of shit! Damn rangers."

You recognize the voice. The trader from the armory a few doors down the street. As threatening as he appears, he isn't usually that hostile to customers. From your point of view, two steps above the ground you can only see the dark hair of the man he scolds. Man is saying something back but his voice you can't quite hear. Instead a loud response comes from the inside of the armory.

"Put your silver up your thin arse! Get away from my store before I put a hammer through your head," this time it's the smith himself. You shiver a bit hearing his rough voice.

Stranger only stays in front of the armorer's shop for a moment before moving on. You finally see him fully when he appears from the crowd. Tall and dark-haired he doesn't seem all that different from men of Gondor. His clothes give away the fact that he is indeed a Ranger. You hear more sneers following him from the other side of the street where old men sell leather. Their tannery is actually a few streets down from here, but they still keep a display in the busiest part of the market. Unpleasant fellows. They even got in a quarrel with your father a few times trying to steal his customers. Probably that's why you take a step down from the door and call out to the stranger. There's no other explanation at all.

"Ranger! Come look at our fabrics. Best broadcloth in all Minas Tirith! Vast selection and best prices for you."

The Ranger stops, looks around for a moment, and seeing the wares through the open door makes his way down to look over them. He looks at the materials laid out on the counter over, fingers them, and seems intrigued by the selection. He reaches out to examine a particularly colorful one.

"You have a very good selection here. Are these local, or imported? They look very fine."

You may be only 13 years old, but you know the goods well. "These wools are gondorian. Look at the quality here. There are none like this anywhere in Arnor. I also suggest these linen fabrics delivered from Linhir," you say imitating your father's manner of speech.

The Ranger smiles faintly at seeing you so assured in your speech and so young. He looks over the wools and linens.

"Linhir, eh? Impressive that you get such high quality goods from so far away." He looks back at you with visible curiosity. "Are you the shop owner's daughter?"

"I am," you confirm and after a little pause pull a length of dyed linen from underneath the counter. "This one is rarely to anyone's liking but you seem to be fitting the description of 'not anyone', if I'm not mistaken. Take it. There's enough for a good shirt."

The Ranger smiles more broadly this time, and picks up the length of linen. He examines it thoroughly, and nods slowly.

"You've got a sharp eye, to guess that I'm someone who doesn't blend in, lass," he says with a touch of humor in his voice. "And this is definitely worth the coin. How much are you asking for it?"

You name the price. He rummages his pockets for a moment before cold coins drop heavy in your palm. "There's more than needed. I'll be right back…" you say and rush into the house. For a minute only some shuffling is heard. Then you return to the counter.

"Here," you tell the Ranger. "Change and well… everything."

You pass him a coin of change and a small bundle. The Ranger pockets the change, and then takes a look inside the wrap. After a moment, he smiles faintly again.

"Is it common practice for you to throw in a meal with your sales?" he asks, amused.

You feel blush creeping up your face. "If the tavern owners are half as hospitable as the blacksmiths are, you will need it."

The Ranger laughs at that, and his smile remains afterwards. "You've an excellent point, lass. The hospitality of tavern owners seems to be in constant decline. And I'm not sure about the blacksmiths either."

It's clear in his voice that he's jesting, though he is obviously remembering his earlier confrontation with the blacksmith. You watch him put on the hood of his cloak as he walks away blending in with the crowd. You don't remember much from the rest of that day, except for occasional sidelong glance from the leather men. No wonder you don't. It's been over eight years since then.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many thoughts arise at once, clouding your mind like a swarm. Yet they all are silenced by one phrase, that a dwarf says. "What is the meaning of this, Aragorn?" He says something else about how it's not the king's duty to walk from stall to stall, choosing fabrics, but it doesn't matter.

You slowly slide off the stool you were standing on, by some wonder landing on your feet and not gashing your knees against the wooden floor. The words are pounding in your head. Yes, that's right. People surrounding him are.. not exactly people. An elf, a dwarf and two hobbits. Just as the rumor has it. The king has friends of other races and folks.

Your body is stiff when you muster a bow to him. This tall man, Ranger you once met, turned out to be the last living heir to the throne. Some absolutely mad joke of fate that might be.

"It's an honor to see you here, my king. Though I must apologize for the disorder and lack of manner," you manage to utter finally.

He smiles faintly at your bow. "It's good to see you again, lass," he says, raising a hand to forestall any further apologies. "And there's no need to apologize. Your manner is fine, especially given the circumstances."

He leans forward a bit, eyes still sparkling with the faintest hint of mischief. "You seemed surprised just now when you saw me. As if you've seen a ghost walk into your shop."

"It isn't everyday that a faintly familiar ranger pays a visit… and happens to become a king, your majesty," you say. Your eyes dart from one of his companions to another until you settle with the image. From there on your steps are fast and words are even faster as you fall into the usual pattern of work. It helps to set all worries aside.

"Midnight blue and ink black broadcloth for Gimli, son of Gloin," you arrange the fabrics on top of the counter before the dwarf. "Goes well along with both gold and silver."

"Bright wools and soft satins for brave hobbits," you speak pulling out lengths of colored textile and showcasing them to Merry and Pippin.

"Silver silk brought all the way from Lorien for honorable Legolas of Mirkwood," you suggest, unsure yet if smuggled wares could meet the request of an elf.

"Linen from Linhir and hemp from Dale for your majesty," you offer a multitude of colors to the future king.

Aragorn's eyebrows rise in mild surprise at the speed with which you handle the various requests. You clearly know your craft, and well. You pick out the colors and patterns with ease. He runs his hands over the soft fabric of the broadcloth you picked out for Gimli. After a moment, he nods slowly.

"Excellent choice for my friend," he says, glancing at the dwarf. Gimli grins back and nods in agreement.

"It's an honor to meet your expectations, my king," you bow slightly under Aragorn's somewhat disapproving gaze.

You watch as the others look through the selected fabrics and nod in agreement, choosing the best fitting ones. Aragorn himself looks rather delighted by the wares. He picks out a length of hemp cloth, turns it over in his hands a few times, examining the weave and texture, and finally gives a satisfied sigh.

"I'm still a Ranger at heart," he says, glancing up at you. "My taste in clothes runs toward the simple and practical. This hemp is just the thing."

He sets the hemp down on the counter and smiles back at you. "I do wonder, though… which one will you choose for yourself?"

Your heart skips a bit at the question. "For myself?" The words leave your mouth before you get a chance to think them through.

Aragorn smiles at your surprised expression. "Of course," he says. "I doubt I need to tell you that the coronation will be a grand event. There will be people, nobles especially, with all the fashion sense and more coin than sense. You will be the only one in something plain and unadorned if you stay away from the occasion."

He looks down at your clothes. You're well-dressed for a trader, a clear sign that the store's profits stay high despite any turmoil, but it's clear that your dress is ordinary, suitable for an ordinary day. "You deserve something better than that."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, your majesty…" you mutter. "I might be able to watch the coronation from among the crowd, or standing on the parapet if the luck is good. But my dress makes no difference in that luck."

Aragorn lets out a small huff and shakes his head. "No, lass. You have seen me before, and you weren't among those sneering and showering me with cheap mockery. As far as I'm concerned, you're entitled to a seat of honor at the ceremony. And I'm not letting you take that seat while you've still got your old clothes on."

You look at him in disbelief. This idea seems absolutely mad. You have probably lost your mind during the siege, and now you're imagining the whole thing. That the King, Aragorn, would be in your store personally inviting you as a guest to his coronation and willing to pay for your dress because of some decade old encounter. You shake your head and blink a few times trying to get back to reality. And yet he is still here. The same smirk on his lips as he leans on the counter.

Aragorn's smirk grows a bit wider when he sees your reaction. "Don't doubt your eyes, lass," a hint of humor is present in his voice. "I am standing here. And I am inviting you."

He looks you up and down, taking in your current clothes and appearance. "And if you don't pick something suitable, I'll do it myself, and you won't like it."

At that you only shake your head yet again and turn around facing the many shelves behind the counter. You know the wares like the back of your hand and don't waste much time picking out the more delicate linens and a length of silk from southern Gondor in light blue hues. Aragorn only looks them over once and gives a nod of approval.

"An excellent choice," he says, looking up at you with a smile. "You have an eye for color."

You nod slightly, unable to speak anymore. It all seems so impossible and unreal. Aragorn pays for everything he and his friend choose as well as for the lengths for your own dress; he also leaves behind enough to pay any seamstress in the city for the gown. It's only a few minutes before you're left behind. Alone and bewildered by the meeting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the next couple of days you pay a visit to a seamstress that once had sewn your mother's wedding dress. She takes the order readily and in the next morning a boy brings back a bundle with the finished gown. It's light and flowing like water in the river. You wait patiently until the day of coronation to finally put it on.

The dress seems to be enchanted somehow. You don't feel like a merchant's daughter walking through the crowd at court, being accompanied by a guard. You don't feel alien standing in the front rows among noble ladies and just a few steps away from lady Eowyn — niece to the late king of Rohan — and lord Faramir — son of the last steward of Gondor. You feel as if this could be some other life prepared for you by fate. And still you can't quite place why the king would step out of his way and do something of that sort for you.

Throughout the whole ceremony you can't tear your eyes away from his silhouette. You recognize the familiar color and texture of fabric, hugging his neck from beneath the armor. You watch him walk regally and at the same time very openly among the guests. Many are his friends. The ceremony ends with his grateful bow to the hobbits as the whole court follows his example. And with that begins the feast.

The great hall of the palace is decorated and festive. The long tables are filled with food and drinks. People flood the hall, taking their places. You watch the whole Fellowship find themselves close to the king. And your own place is somehow not that far away as well. Just among the members of the few remaining noble families of Gondor, blending you in with them.

As the feast progresses more wine bottles are opened. So far you managed to avoid the many cups of wine being offered by neighbors at the table, but it was getting noticeably harder. Some surely mistook you for a daughter of some less well-known, but clearly wealthy family, that would make for a good bride for one of their many sons. Before the direct confrontation becomes unavoidable you get away from the table and into a side gallery. Unsure as to where you should be going, you escape onto a balcony. It's empty and the scenery is beautiful. Fresh air is soothing against the heated skin.

You lean onto the parapet of the balcony, taking this chance to immerse in peace of the early night. Judging by the music, the dancing must have started, and that sounds like another perfect way to excuse yourself from the table later. But before you even decide to head back, you hear the sound of the balcony door slightly creaking at being opened and slow footsteps approaching.

You turn around and recognize Aragorn, who must have found a great time to sneak out of the spotlight relatively unnoticed. Back in the hall he looked nothing like the Ranger you once met, but here in the faint moonlight and subtle orange hues casted from the windows you can spot more similarities than before.

"Good evening, your majesty," you greet him politely with an appropriate bow.

Aragorn smiles faintly at your bow. He steps forward and leans on the parapet next to you. After a moment, he speaks, his voice more casual than it was earlier.

"You know, you don't need to call me by my title. Especially not while we're alone like this."

The suggestion catches you off guard. "I don't quite understand what should I call you then… or why that would even be possible," you confess your doubts.

He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. "Why would it be possible to call me by my given name? Because I'm allowing it. For the time being, at least."

Aragorn turns to you completely so that he's leaning against the parapet, with one arm resting on it. The simple action bringing color to your face as you get to see him fully. "You met me before I was king. As far as I'm concerned, that means you still have the right to call me something other than 'your majesty' when we are alone, like this."

"There're many people in this city and beyond its walls who have met you before, Aragorn," his name feels almost alien on your tongue. "But I doubt that they all receive the same… treatment."

The king lets out a small huff and smiles faintly. "No, I suppose not. I doubt I'd be able to recognize any of them, for starters. You, however, were more memorable…"

He gives you a brief once-over. "You were more memorable," he repeats, his gaze fixed on you for a moment before he looks away and back out at the city. "It could be a mere coincidence, but I trust my fate and its signs. My visit to Minas Tirith eight years ago was the last one. It was the time when I attempted to make the final decision of whether to follow the path of an heir or give up. The way I was greeted with dozens of insults and many more curses in the streets of the White city was the sign that I assumed to be an advice against pursuing my right for the throne. You showed up before my eyes right when I was ready to give up. So young and eager, so welcoming and confident. I couldn't tear my eyes away from you. You seemed as the very essence of the new Era. You singlehandedly charged something within me with this new will to fight for such future."

You stand there too stunned to say a single word, your mind racing with thoughts. You would never expect to hear something of the kind. The way you acted during that first encounter was a surprise to you as well, as if… well, as if fate pushed you to be more hospitable and welcoming to this stranger.

The more you keep thinking about his words the brighter the scarlet tone on your cheeks turns. You try to get rid of the definitely wrong ideas you got, but they just keep reappearing in your troubled mind.

Aragorn glances over at you and takes notice of the shade of red creeping over your cheeks. He can't help but give a small chuckle. "And now you're blushing again. I wonder why?"

He reaches forward and carefully takes your chin, his hand tilting your face up towards him slightly. "What could possibly be going through that mind of yours, I wonder…"

Your eyes dart to his with righteous indignation. "You know what!" you exclaim rather impolitely, but continue in a much calmer, quieter manner. "How could you be speaking of fate so easily…"

Aragorn lifts an eyebrow in amusement as your voice rises then falls off again. His grip loosens a little, his fingers now resting on your cheek, still turning your face to look up at him.

"You don't like the concept of fate?" he asks, with a faint smile. "You don't think the right people can meet at the right time?"

"No, that's not what I meant. However, you sound so sure of the way you interpret those signs of fate. As humans we are only able to follow the path prepared for us, not knowing what lays ahead, aren't we?" you say trying to explain your mind's confusion. "But you seem to understand more, and that seems impossible to me. Especially, when," you pause for a moment searching for the right words. "When I somehow get involved in your fate."

He looks at your expression, studying your eyes and face, his fingers still touching your skin as he speaks.

"You are involved in my fate," Aragorn says, his voice low and serious. "You have been for a long time, whether you knew it or not. But I knew it. Not long after we first met. I knew there was a greater purpose to that encounter, even if you did not. And I made sure to be grateful for your timely appearance. Though I must admit there might be more than just gratefulness…"

He removes his hand from your face and makes a few steps towards the door back into the hall before turning around and facing you once more. "Dancing will continue for another hour, but it would be a shame if the king doesn't dance even once because a beautiful lady decided to spend her whole night on a balcony, right?"

Your gaze glides over his hopeful gray eyes and faint smile until it finally lands on his outstretched hand.

[yuurei20]

Jamil Info Compilation part 25: Stealing, Hometown, Ruggie

In Firelit Sky we learn that child Jamil would steal food from the vendors in the markets at his hometown.

Jamil reminds one vendor that he did pay him back the next day, but later on Jamil admits to Trey that he and his friends would swipe food in middle school.

During Spectral Soiree Jamil uses the ghosts to collect mirror shards for the purpose of stealing them, though SIlver does not approve.

The ghosts insist, “It’s not nice stealing others’ hard-earned stuff!” and Silver agrees with “It’s wrong to take other people’s things.” Jamil insists that they are only borrowing the fragments until the Halloween party.

Malleus later commends the students for finding as many mirror fragments as they have and Jamil does not comment out loud silently saying, “I don’t have the heart to tell him I got most of these by tricking Silver and stealing them from the ghosts…”

Jamil may not be entirely fond of his hometown: he says that, much to his chagrin, “It’s still clinging on to all the tired old customs.” When Trey points out that he is “detecting some bitterness” Jamil says, “…let’s just say I don’t like everything about it.”

During Firelit Sky Jamil calls out a vendor for trying to swindle Grim, haggling a lower price for a decorative lamp and insisting upon receiving a beige cloth for free. Jamil then reveals that the cloth is “a premium fabric made with a very rare dye. "If I sell it to a more discerning vendor, I could get enough money of 30 of those lamps.”

Trey points out that Jamil seems to know the town really well for someone that hates it, and Jamil says, “I said I didn’t like certain things about it. I never said I hated it. Besides…places like these are full of opportunists. I didn’t say I wasn’t one of them.”

Jamil seems to have a questionable opinion of Ruggie, pointing out to Trey and Malleus that they’re not entirely safe from getting robbed at NRC, as he has “heard rumors of a hyaena on campus wth sticky fingers.”

Ruggie and Jamil overlap in a vignette where Jamil says he thinks it would be more painful to serve someone like Leona than Kalim, while Ruggie says that looking after Kalim seems rough and would just make him uncomfortable.

[kivaember]

Do you have any headcanons about the relationship between Michigan and Iguazu?

BOY DO I!!!!

So, their relationship is actually pretty complicated, even though superficially it seems like a typical "boss trying to whip a slacker into shape". Well, they're that too, but:

Iguazu has very mixed feelings re: Michigan, because on the one hand he broke his goddamn face and then press-ganged him into Redgun service, but on the other hand, the Redguns granted him opportunities he never would've had on earth, and he's actually treated considerably better than he had been on earth too.

See, on earth, Iguazu was born into the working class, but he didn't want to live his life in the production factories or fabrication foundaries, so he was - gasp - unemployed and joined one of the many gangs that roamed the slums. Smuggling, robbery, illegal gambling, anything that could get him ahead in life, anything that could make him that little bit richer, Iguazu went for it. His lifelong dream was to get enough scratch to buy a bronze citizenship and move into one of the Rejuvenated cities, but he needed lots of money for that.

Lots and lots and lots of money.

Gambling was his favourite way of trying to get that money, because in his eyes it was a 'get rich quick and don't even get shot at' method. He did petty crime to get the fistful of cash needed to throw down a bet - and then lose it all lmao it was an endless cycle. In fact, it was how he got augmented in the first place, as he put down a huuuuuuuuge bet he just couldn't cover, and when he lost it, he realised not even selling a kidney or liver would cover the debt.

Fortunately, he managed to make a deal with some shady augmentation surgeon looking for 'test subjects' for some highly experimental """"Gen Four""""" augmentations, and he took a chance: if he survived the surgery and let the surgeon get whatever data he wanted from it, the surgeon will pay off his debt. If he didn't survive the surgery well, he'll be dead. If he couldn't pay back that debt though, he was dead anyways, so Iguazu took the chance and actually won!

So, an augmented human that doesn't have any debt nor ties to corporations is pretty valuable, even if they don't have an AC to pilot. With his new second chance, Iguazu shunned gambling for good and- HAH no. He went back to his previous life of petty crime and excessie gambling, except now he was a little cockier. Anyway, he climbed the ranks a little in the gang he was in (where he had consistently stayed, not quite at the bottom, but like, bottom third, maybe), and got tangled up in a scheme to get some seriously big cash.

tl;dr Iguazu tried to rob the Hero of Jupiter of all people.

Didn't work, obviously. His gang got busted halfway through the job and Iguazu got left behind to take the fall. Michigan basically beat him half senseless, but didn't kill him (even though he could've done it and the law would've been like "oh, unemployed working class, yeah, it wouldn't count as murder :)" since only citizens are protected (working class aren't "citizens" in apv...)). Instead, after rearranging Iguazu's face and breaking a few bones, Michigan dragged him to the hospital and paid his medical bill.

Now. Onto where the complicated feelings come in.

Life on earth was a constant struggle, and Iguazu was aware that he wasn't at the bottom of the social ladder so much as even the worms tilling the soil were considered more productive members of society than him. None of his schemes or gambling was getting him the money he wanted, and after attempting to rob the Hero of Jupiter, the Peacekeepers weren't going to arrest him, they'd just vanish him completely, which was scarier.

But that didn't happen. Instead Michigan offered him a deal: if Iguazu served ten years in the Redguns as one of his AC squad commanders, then Michigan will personally sponsor him a silver earth citizenship and give him a lump sum of COAM to start him off for his new life.... but if Iguazu turned him down, then Michigan was going to leave him to the mercy of the Peacekeepers, which was essentially a death sentence.

Obviously, Iguazu was going to take the deal, no matter how suspicious as fuck it sounded.

Really, Iguazu was half-expecting Michigan to make him his indentured slave. But instead he found that, no, he was legitimately recruited as an AC pilot. Was trained to be an AC pilot. Michigan even forced him to train in other things too - marketable skills he called them, no matter how much Iguazu grouched and complained about them being boring or pointless. Michigan pushed him to do better, didn't take any of Iguazu's shit, and if Iguazu pushed back too hard, promptly smacked him back into his place and reminded him of their deal.

It really confused Iguazu more than anything? Like, he hated Michigan on principle, and he hated how he was in control of his life and strongarmed him into a group he didn't even care about, but at the same time he felt some weird, bitter and begrudging gratitude and respect - which made him hate Michigan even more because he can't even just hate the guy without it being complicated!! Michigan was just some rich famous guy who decided to make Iguazu his charity case, and he really despised him for it.

But he was also aware that life in the Redguns was considerably better than life on earth had been to him. He'd paid a generous salary. He sleeps in a warm, clean bed (even when sent to Rubicon, their barracks had a functional cot). He got to eat every day and didn't have to worry about tomorrow. He met people he could tolerate and weren't always thinking about how to fuck him over (Volta). Iguazu really does have a lot of complicated feelings over Michigan and what he's done for him, but he settles for resentment and bitter anger because those emotions he knows best. He knows what to do with those...

Michigan, meanwhile?

Really, he was thinking about Walter when it came to Iguazu. Saw this gutsy, angry, refused to stay beaten down "sewer rat", and just couldn't help but glimpse Walter in there. Like, yeah, Walter was never that mouthy, was colder, more composed and poised, but damn, that crazy, raw stubbornness that was just shy of the fierceness of a cornered animal was all Walter.

As well, his experiences with Walter, and his own perspective on both sides of the social ladder - and how the working class are treated - had Michigan feeling some kind of way. He just decided to go for it, see what happened. Iguazu had the guts to try and rob him and, when caught, squared up to him like an absolute lunatic. Michigan liked that kind of gutsy lunacy. Combined with his sort of Walter reminders, he decided to just... offer a helping hand.

Walter sure as hell never had one of those. Walter did everything himself, horded that bitter resentment until it poisoned him right down to the bone marrow, and now he's god knows where doing who knows what. So... yeah, it's complicated on Michigan's side too.

They're both so emotionally constipated, though. Michigan sure as hell explained nothing, Iguazu stewed at what he perceived to be unwanted pity and charity, and everyone else just kinda watched this from the sidelines like hm. intersting. well anyway-

oh man i did not mean to ramble that much but. yeah!!!! yeah... my michigan and iguazu headcanons...

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: Christmas Tales

The Masked Swordsman

Blake cupped her hands for warmth as she wandered around the markets. During these four days, traders from all across Remnant would set up their stalls and bring treasures from their native kingdoms; jewels, weapons, fabrics and sweets. Blake's nose twitched as she couldn't decide what to get for her beloved. Jaune had been her friend since childhood and had moved from his original home in Charlemagne to Kuroyuri. Unlike many of her peers, Jaune wasn't a fighter. Instead, he shared Blake's passion for poetry and literature. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. Maybe she could find a storybook within the market. She moved through the crowd and tapped the shoulder of an ox faunus.

Blake: Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know any stalls that sell books?

Ox Faunus: Oh of course. They're over by the pottery. The man has a vast collection from all four kingdoms.

Blake: Thank you so much. *bows*

Blake shuffled through the crowds again, trying to fight her urge to yell at everyone to get out of her way. She finally reached the book stall and came face to face with a young tiger faunus.

Tiger Faunus: Welcome to my Treasure Trove of Literature, my dear! We have every book you could possibly sink your teeth into! What takes your fancy today?

Blake leaned over and scanned the table. Of all the books, one stuck out to her the most. It was a black and white image of a caped swordsman surrounded with twelve knights. Blake's eyes sparkled with joy. It was Jaune's favourite tale; Charlemagne and his Twelve Paladins, the namesake of his home nation.

Blake: *picks up book* I'll take this one.

Tiger Faunus: Excellent choice. That'll be 10 gold lien, please. Would you like it gift-wrapped?

Blake: *nods head and pays* Thank you.

Tiger Faunus; You're welcome and have a Merry Christmas, my lady. *bows*

Blake smiled as the book was wrapped in a beautiful white cloth. She took her present and bowed to the vendor. Her nose twitched as she caught the scent of freshly baked cakes. She followed the trail to a small, makeshift bakery, where she saw a pile of mouthwatering strawberry cream buns. Jaune was sure to love this. She paid three silver lien for a box and once again ,oved through the sea of the crowd. As soon as she left the down, she saw that the clouds had become thicker and a dark grey. A few specks of snow fell and brushed against her face. She pulled her scarf above her mouth and continued her walk along the path. The snow began to fall thicker and heavier. Even with her Aura, Blake shivered through the bitter cold. The wind grew wild, obscuring her vision and pushing her back.

Blake: Ugh! Damn it!

When the wind finally cleared, Blake found herself standing face to face with her enemy; The Masked Swordsman. He wore a blood red shitagi, black hakama and a white oni-like mask, with two black horns.

Masked Swordsman: We meet again, Belladonna. *draws a azure bladed katana* Today, you will meet your end.

Blake: *draws her jet black katana* I don't have time for this, Swordsman. You've been tormenting me for the better part of a year. Today, the conflict ends.

The two of them circled around the path, raising their swords high. In a flash, they clased and a loud, deafening clang echoed as both of them struggled to push each other back. Blake began to glow a deep purple and split into a shadow clone, catching the Masked Swordsman off guard. She tried to thrust, only for him to counter and land a punch straight into her stomach.

Blake: Agh!! *stumbles back*

The Masked Swordsman raised his sword for downward strike, but Blake split into another shadow clone. She reached to her belt and poured a vial of Burn Dust onto her blade. A flame ignited and she slashed towards The Masked Swordsman. Desperately, he tried to dodge as a wave of fire burned the snowy ground. He looked into Blake's eyes and saw that they were bloodshot. She hadn't blinked once. She was intending to finish this once and for all. They both gripped their swords with both hands and ran towards each other. Blake swung with devastating force and cut a piece of the Swordsman's mask off.

Masked Swordsman: GAAAAAARGH!!!!! *grabs part of his face* NO! NOO!!! MY MASK!!!

Blake: *sheathes sword*

Masked Swordsman: This... this isn't over!!!

The snow fell faster and the Masked Swordsman djsappeared. Blake looked down at the broken mask and noticed black blood. Her eyes were wide with panic. Whoever the Masked Swordsman was, he wasn't human.

[Arc House]

A loud knock was heard and Jaune rushed over to answer the door. Standing outside was his girlfriend, Blake, shivering.

Jaune: Blake! What the hell are you doing out tbere? Get inside! *drags her in*

Blake: T-T-Thanks J-J-Jaune.

Jaune: *closes door and chuckles* It's okay, sweetheart. What were you doing out there?

Blake: *laughs* Buying your Christmas present, silly. *gives him the red cloth wrapped present* I hope you'll like it.

Jaune: If it's from you, I know I'll love it. *kisses her forehead*

Blake: *giggles and blushes* I also picked up some cream buns. You want to have some?

Jaune: Of course! Let's sit by the fire.

Jaune and Blake sat with each other by the warmth, kissing and cuddling, as they counted the days for a wonderful Christmas.

[edosianorchids901]

Baggage

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt "Second Hand Soul"

Original fiction this time because the idea sank its claws into me as soon as I saw the prompt

The bright neon “OPEN” sign juxtaposed against vintage, weathered furniture caught Vincent’s eye. The odd contrast stood out, a curiosity in a world that had seemed uninteresting for so long. He set a jug of milk on the back seat of his battered silver 1993 Corolla, then approached the shop door.

Heavy dust clogged the air, coating his tongue the moment he stepped into the thrift shop. He coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. It accomplished absolutely nothing, like everything else in his life, and he sighed.

Slow footfalls led him to the back of the crowded shop. He stepped past creepy dolls with bug eyes, a bookcase full of novels that looked like they would dissolve if he touched them, and colorful carved wooden animals with heads that bobbed in an unexplained breeze.

And then he was standing in front of another bookcase, but not one with books. This one held tiny jars, half the size of his hand. He picked one up, examining the silvery blue glow. It sloshed when he moved it.

What was this? A drink of some sort? A medicine?

“Need souls?” a cheerful voice asked.

Vincent stared at the glowing liquid a moment longer, then raised his head. His eyesight wasn’t as good as it once had been, and he squinted to see the speaker. A woman with curly strawberry blonde hair. She was chewing bubble gum and petting a black cat.

“I’m sorry?” Vincent asked when the question failed to make sense even after giving it another thought.

“Souls.” She dusted her hands off on a once-white apron, detached the cat’s paw from the fabric, and bustled around the counter. The cat hopped down and followed. “You’re holding one right now.”

Vincent looked down at the jar. Then, gingerly, he set it back on the shelf. “You… sell souls.”

“Second-hand souls, yes. Some of these have certainly seen better days, but there’s always folks who are willing to pay for a replacement.”

“A replacement?” Vincent asked, almost smiling for the first time in a year. The cat rubbed on his leg, and he reached down to pet it. “You mean that people come in here to replace their own souls with second-hand ones?”

“Mhm. Oh, not all for the same reasons. Sometimes, it’s because they feel guilty about something they’ve done and want to start fresh. Or, well, fresher.” The woman grinned and lovingly patted a jar with a warm orange glow. “Others just do it because they’re bored of their own. We don’t judge here.”

“I see.” Vincent took a deep breath and coughed as more dust clogged his windpipe. He took another deep breath anyway. “Do you have any happy souls?”

She patted the orange jar. “Why yes, as a matter of fact. But why are you looking for a new one?”

Vincent glared at her, but he couldn’t muster up enough anger to make it convincing. “I thought you didn’t judge.”

“We don’t. But I never said we don’t ask questions.”

A lump blocked his throat, unrelated to the choking dust. “It’s just that… I’ve had a sad soul as long as I can remember.”

Compassion tinged the woman’s face, and it was almost enough to make him cry. “That’s a shame. But this isn’t a guaranteed fix to your problems. They’re second-hand souls, remember. Happy or not, they come with their own baggage.”

Vincent sighed. He had enough baggage of his own. Did he really want to add someone else’s problems to his life? What if they were even worse than his own problems?

“Now, don’t despair,” the woman said kindly. “I have an idea that might do you more good. It’s not a guaranteed fix either, understand, and it can come with problems of its own. But it doesn’t have the same risks as soul transference.”

“That sounds more promising.” At this point, he was willing to try anything. Except maybe soul transfers, which sounded like more trouble than they were worth. “What is it?”

In answer, the woman picked up the black cat and held it out. Bright yellow eyes gazed into his. Eyes full of affection and need.

Wordless, Vincent took the purring cat and turned around. He walked away from the second hand souls, past all the odd vintage toys, and back out into the world.

There was a pet shop just down the corner. He and his new friend would stop in and buy a few things. Then, together, they would go home and try to create their own happiness.

[justwii]

Miriam haskell jewelry

Retro mixology equipment is a consistently hot seller on eBay and Etsy. If crafted cocktails aren’t your thing, flip your finds for profit. Stock your own bar cart with vintage jiggers, cocktail shakers, mixing beakers and elegant glassware - all for a fraction of retail prices. Move beyond 2-liter plastic bottles and disposable cups. Estate sales are treasure troves of sexy “Mad Men”-era barware. Those days don’t have to be lost forever. Making cocktails used to be a ritual complete with beautiful decanters, drink-specific glasses and elaborate mixing tools. I once bought a 45-piece set of flatware by Dansk for $15 at an estate sale. If you’re buying to resell, look for vintage pieces made by Dansk, Lauffer or Cromargan. Typically, they’re made of heavier-gauge metal and have more interesting designs than contemporary options. I gravitate toward well-made stainless steel sets from the 1960s and 1970s. Whether you’re looking for stainless steel, silver plate or sterling, estate sales are the perfect place to find cutlery. Prefer rhinestones over diamonds? Pieces by famous costume jewelry brands such as Miriam Haskell, Eisenberg and Schiaparelli are highly prized by collectors. Then, buy what you love and try to score complete jewelry suites - matching sets that typically include a necklace, bracelet, brooch and pair of earrings. In my resale business, vintage jewelry - both the real stuff and quality costume jewelry - is always a hot seller.īut before you hit the estate sale circuit, invest in a jewelers’ loupe (your eyes will thank you) and brush up on common gold and silver purity marks. And remember, don’t toss the box! Buyers pay more for toys in their original packaging. If you’re buying to resell, keep an eye out for classic board games, early electronics and toys that inspire personal creativity (think paint-by-number kits, Lite-Brite and Lincoln Logs). See Also: 21 Purchases You Should Never Skimp On Not convinced? Check out these Lego sets that resell for thousands. Vintage toys Salvatore Chiariello / Įveryone gets nostalgic about toys from their childhood, and in the resale business, nostalgia sells. Even better, such tools can be had at an estate sale for a fraction of what new versions would cost. Nearly every estate sale I attend features a little pegboard paradise - a basement workshop or garage filled with essential tools everyone should have.Īlthough they may need a bit of cleaning and TLC, vintage pieces by Craftsman, Skil and Stanley are exceptionally well-made and likely have years of faithful service left in them. And to keep everything in tip-top shape, homeowners had a small stockpile of tools. Tools Bas van der Pluijm / Ī couple of generations ago, folks fixed things instead of simply replacing them. Some estate sale proprietors attempt to mask cigarette, pet and mold odors by using scented candles and strong aerosol sprays. One word of caution: Never buy upholstered furniture without first giving it a smell test - a nose-to-the-fabric sniff. Look for signs of quality like solid wood construction, dovetail joints and bookmatched veneers, as I detail in “ 10 Secrets to Finding Quality Secondhand Furniture.” Whether you’re furnishing an entire house or just a guest room, frequenting estate sales is one way to get good furniture cheap. The following are among the things I always buy at estate sales. But some estate sale deals are better than others. Find them by scouring ads in your local paper, browsing online classifieds sites like Craigslist, or just keeping an eye peeled for posted signs.Įstate sales are sometimes referred to as “tag sales” because everything that’s for sale is tagged with a price.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨1

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Yay, mob Clark. And I know what you’re saying right now, enough with Clark Kent! I get it haha. Promise, for a while, this will be the last I do of him. I have Lee fic in the work right now, the early development of medieval Peter, and I’m still sitting on some Loki ft. an exchange student... and then all my other series of course!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stood against the wall, chewing your lip as you looked around the gallery. You should be ecstatic, you should be floating around on a cloud, but all you could feel was crushing anxiety. It was truly a dream come true; your art hanging on the wall. Only three pieces, but it was there, and your name was below it in print.

You tugged on the waist of your dress and teetered in your heels. It was a borrowed outfit, you couldn’t afford anything appropriate to the upscale venue. The classic starving artist, or almost. You slipped your phone from your purse and up your sleeve. You subtly checked the time and for the little chat icon in the corner. Still no message.

Marcus was almost an hour late. He texted just after the event opened to warn you he was caught up with work but you worried he wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass but you weren’t prepared to face this alone. You dropped your phone back into your slender purse and snapped it shut.

Vanessa, the gallery owner, made you flinch as she appeared almost out of the air. You smiled at her shyly and stopped chewing your lip.

“You should mingle,” she said, “you have an interested buyer. You might have a few more if you come out from the corner.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” you confessed, “I-- thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“You earned it,” she touched your arm daintily, “all those hard hours working the back room, I couldn’t not hang a few pieces.”

You fixed your posture and tried to seem as confident as her. Your income came solely from hours of at-home data entry as you volunteered at the gallery in your few hours between. It was all worth it and maybe if you sold something tonight, Vanessa would feature you work again and you wouldn’t need to spend the bulk of your days staring at tiny font.

“So, where’s this buyer?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s my girl,” Vanessa trilled, “he seems very interested.”

She led you across the room, stopping to greet other artists and old friends with a kiss on the cheek and deep laughter. You’d met them all before as you were often working at these events. It was your first time as one of them.

When at last you neared your little stretch of the wall, a man stood with his head slightly back as he stared at your proto-renaissance portraits. He was tall and his broad shoulders strained the rich fabric of his jacket. His dark hair was neatly parted and a slight curl marked the front above the shadow of scruff poking out along his jawline.

“Mr. Kent,” Vanessa chimed, “I found her.”

He turned to look at you and his deep blue eyes struck you. He smiled between you and the gallery owner, his chiseled jaw even more defined by the gesture.

“This is Mr. Kent,” she introduced you in turn, “I believe he was interested in the larger piece.”

“All three, if you don’t have another buyer lined up,” he intoned, “I think they belong together.”

“All of them?” you raised your brows, “well, I, yeah, I guess--”

“We can put something together for you,” Vanessa interrupted your awkward stuttering, “let me just mark them.”

She took the silver pen she kept on a chain around her wrist and scribbled in the corner of the tags to mark them as sold. You were slightly numb at your disbelief. You were a bit reluctant to part with your work but the check would ease your grief.

“The way you use colours,” he said as he faced the paintings again, “I’ve recently had some work done in my house and I hate the sight of naked walls.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped a little closer and looked at your delicate strokes.

“Pardon me,” Vanessa rushed away as she beckoned to one of her assistants and prattled orders.

“Vanessa tells me you’re a new artist,” he said.

“New in a sense,” you said, “I guess, I’m officially an artist now.”

“Oh? I’m flattered. Your first buyer?”

“Besides some online fanart, yeah,” you replied, “so, Mr. Kent, what do you do?”

“Clark,” he corrected, “and a little bit of everything.”

An awkward silence took over and was thankfully interrupted by your name. You turned as Marcus rushed over and his shoes slipped on the polished floor. He reached you and kissed your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I got caught in traffic on the way over and then my oil light started flashing,” he gasped out.

“Hey, you’re here,” you rubbed his shoulder and straightened his tie without thinking as it hung at an angle.

“So, you sell anything yet?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, um, Mr-- Clark,” you gestured to the man standing patiently to the side, “he just bought all three.”

“Damn,” Marcus said, “guess I can hold onto my savings.”

“Marc,” you nudged his arm with your knuckles, “you know we can’t afford your cheesiness.”

“Sorry, uh,” Marcus laughed at himself, “I’m Marcus.”

He held out his hand and Clark shook it. His eyes strayed to you as his features sharpened just a little.

“You two…?” he ventured.

“Five years,” Marcus announced, “guess we’re going steady.”

“Oh,” Clark nodded placidly, “are you an artist too?”

“God no, I can hardly write my own name legibly,” Marcus kidded, “I’m a developer.”

“Computers,” Clark mused.

“Yeah, computers,” Marcus scoffed, “and you?”

“Own a couple businesses,” Clark shrugged.

“Must be successful if you can hang around here,” Marcus said and you elbowed him in embarrassment.

“I guess,” Clark smoothed his dark purple jacket and checked his watch, “I’ll let you two be. Maybe I’ll find something to go with these fine pieces.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, “I’m happy to see my work go to a good home.”

“I hope to see more in future,” he returned kindly.

He turned and carried on to the statue constructed of can tabs and greeted another suited man. You looked at Marcus as he leaned in to read the tags beneath your paintings. He stood and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, ten grand?” he hissed.

“Pretty good pay for one night,” you chirped, “glad you could make it.”

“Sorry again, I… I had to redo some code. Adam was in a mood so,” he shook his head and sighed, “let’s not talk about it. Let’s celebrate.” He peeked over at the server with a tray of stemmed flutes, “and you can decide what you’re going to buy me with that check.”

“Hush,” you chided as you took a glass of champagne, “now is not the time to go over bills.”

🎨

At the end of the night, you watched one of the assistants take down your canvas and you helped wrap them in paper and twine. As you finished a loopy knot, you were surprised by the figure beside you. You looked up and set the smallest piece atop the larger ones. Clark smiled as you moved to let him pick them up.

“All yours,” you said, almost mournful to see them go.

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked them easily under his thick arm, “I forgot earlier but do you have a card? Are you open for commissions?”

“You must have a lot of walls,” you looked down and opened your purse, “I have a card and I could try a commission.”

You slid out one of the cards that had lingered in your wallet for more than a year. You handed it to him and he read the flowery font before tucking it away in his jacket.

“I do… have a lot of walls,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll give you a call once these are hung.”

“O-okay,” you kept from wringing your hands and closed your purse, “thank you… again.”

“My pleasure,” assured, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” you said and watched him go.

You let out a breath and smiled to yourself. You would talk to Vanessa and get your cut of the check before you went. Then you could worry about getting Marcus home. He’d had a little too much champagne and you’d left him in the backroom so you could help with the clean-up.

Vanessa bid goodbye to one of her featured artists as you neared. She turned to you and threw up her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, darling,” she said, “you earned that wall.”

“Thanks,” you grinned bashfully.

“Really. That man has never bought a piece before,” she smirked, “I’ve been dying to get into his wallet for years.”

“I never saw him before…”

“Oh, well, yes, he has not been to many of these either. I often see him at other galleries,” she explained, “I hope you have some more for the next.”

“Um, yeah, I should be able to--”

“I’ll have the check for you tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder as her eye was caught by another, “go get your boyfriend out of my studio.”

You accepted your dismissal and turned on your heel. That was just Vanessa, steely but slightly flighty as well. Besides, you were exhausted and you would likely be dragging Marcus into a cab.

You found him slumped at the paint-splattered table. You shook him awake and smiled dopily as he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he pushed his arm around you.

“Marcus,” you drawled in disappointment, “let’s get out of here.”

“Huh?” He looked around and hiccupped, “oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You had a long day,” you assured him as you rubbed his back and let him lean on you as he stood, “I’m just happy you showed up after all that nonsense.”

“Of course, babe,” he slurred and you helped him through the door.

You kept your head down as you slowly sneaked out past Vanessa but you didn’t miss her side-eye. It was best to be as covert as possible. You came out through the door and nearly dropped Marcus.

“Jesus, can I get a little help?” you snipped as you looked around for a yellow cab.

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” he got his feet flat but it hardly helped take his weight off of you.

You raised your hand to hail a cab and he slipped down your arm. Your ankle bent as you turned to try to catch him before you dropped him entirely. He was saved from hitting the ground as he was caught by another. You looked over his head as he was pushed up to his feet again. 

Clark kept his arm behind Marcus as you stared at him, “oh my god, thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he steadied your boyfriend, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you lifted your foot and kept the weight off your ankle, “I just need to get a taxi.” You raised your hand again as you tried to see past the large man, “if you don’t mind getting him in--”

“You can ride with me,” he said brusquely as he turned with Marcus and peered back at you, “this way.”

“We can’t--”

“On that ankle,” he said as you began to limp after him, “you won’t get him out on your own.”

“Really, I’m fine--”

“I don’t mind,” he said coolly as he came to a silver sports car and balanced Marcus against him as he opened the door, “I’ll need an address.”

“Uh, oh,” you folded your hands, “thank you. Really, you’ve done too much.”

“It happens. I’ve had these nights,” he put Marcus across the seat and folded his legs up and shut the door, “you can take the front and tell me where I’m going.”

You hesitated and he opened the front door. You neared and hissed as you stumbled on your ankle. You caught yourself on his arm and quickly retracted your hand as you apologized. 

“It’s alright,” he said as you sat in the front seat. He knelt and gently took your ankle. His thumb rubbed the swollen joint, “you really banged yourself up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him, “thanks.”

He let go and stood. He waited for you to turn your legs into the car and gently closed the door. He rounded to the other side and got in as he fished around for his keys. He turned the engine and gripped the wheel with one hand as he took out his phone. He placed it on the magnetic holder and his fingers flicked over the screen.

“Address?” he asked.

You recited it and winced as Siri responded, ‘calculating route’. You shrunk against the luxury leather and glanced at him. He let out a huff and steered into the mostly empty street.

“I’m sorry about all this--”

“No, don’t be,” he glanced in the rearview, “he must be happy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think he is,” you said as he followed the map directions, “I am too. I mean, it will go along way… uh, well, you know, things can be tough or--” you shrugged, “I mean, it’s not about the money.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be paid,” he said lightly, “and I don’t mind paying for good art.”

You looked out the window as your cheeks burned. You could smell his cologne, subtle but strong. You played with your purse as your nerves brewed in your chest. You watched the sidewalks and the street lights as your surroundings grew more familiar.

He pulled up to your building. It wasn’t the greatest area and the brick façade was faded and cracked. Before you could get out, he was at your door. He offered his hand and helped you out as you leaned on the car. He let you go and opened the back and lifted Marcus out. He hooked your boyfriend’s arm over his shoulder and offered his other arm.

“Come on,” he said.

“Look, you don’t-- there’s an elevator.”

“I’d feel better if I got you inside,” he insisted, “especially in this area.”

You relented and took his arm and limped beside him up the steps. You took out your keys and went ahead of him as he dragged Marcus in. You went to the elevator and hit the button. The doors glided open and you stepped inside. He stood close in the small metal box and Marcus murmured dumbly at his side.

The doors dinged and he let you out first. He followed you down the hall and you unlocked your apartment and waved him inside. He carried Marcus to the couch at your direction and you leaned against the armchair as you bent your leg to check your ankle.

“You should put some ice on that,” Clark said as he neared, “get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah, I will,” you assured, “thank you, again.”

You felt embarrassed as you eyed his expensive suit and looked around your tiny apartment. It must have been laughable to him. He hardly seem bothered as he retreated to the door.

“I’ll let you then,” he said, “and thank you. I really do like your work.”

The door shut in his stead and you heard his footsteps down the long hall until the door at the end swung open. You glanced at Marcus and shook your head. You weren’t as happy to have had him at the show then.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Modern AU w/ Michael Gray (a concept)

I visited the local weekly fabric market (Dutch: Lapjesmarkt) for the first time and, my days, what an experience. Ngl, I went overboard buying fabric, but it’s been a while since I had such a blast.😅

Anyways, I was by far the youngest there though I did see a couple of girls my age (early 20’s). Otherwise, the ones closest in age were the sons/cousins/nephews dragged to the city by their fathers/uncles to help out selling. Which got me thinking…

Fabric seller/Market boy!Michael Gray

He’s very competitive with his uncles when it comes to selling, but could do without the early mornings.

Also, he’s not too fond (not at all, in fact) of the family business, Shelby Cloth Company Ltd., but always is taken along to the city on Saturday morning whether he wants to or not.

Around the marketplace, he’s known as a quiet, pensive, and even a bit brooding character.

An image he can easily contradict once someone breaks through his shell and gets him talking. Though he might not have a silver tongue like rival merchant Aberama Gold, there’s a chance of him turning into a chatterbox if and once you get him started.

However, there’s no need to pop his bubble or, rather, break down his walls when you drop by the family stall to browse.

There’s a tendency towards seeing the same faces every week, but he immediately noticed a new one in the crowd: yours.

The lady running the mobile coffee cart, another steady local presence, confirms this when she asks him whether he’d like another cup of coffee or tea.

Although you try to hide the fact you have close to no idea what you’re doing or what fabrics are officially seen as suitable for your projects, he picks up on your slight awkwardness when you finally stand before him.

Well, before his part of the stall.

Though he normally waits for customers to approach him for a purchase, he forces his shyness (the underlying reason for his distant attitude) aside to greet you.

(By the way, he totally did not mentally prepare himself beforehand, trying to anticipate the moment you’d finally drop by😜)

The conversation starts out a tad awkward, neither of you knowing what to do.

Nevertheless, once you tell him what type of sewing projects you’re into and/or want to try out, the conversation starts flowing more as he points out fabrics and offers further advice on sewing, techniques, and tools.

He also may or may not inwardly moon over the picture you made of your latest project: a ‘real Dutch’ whale shark.

(Yes, I’m referring here to my own project, but the thing is chunky and bloody cute! Bite me😤)

When the coffee lady walks by, Michael waves her over and orders for the both of you.

You politely try to decline, saying you should pay for the beverage considering you’re not a merchant like him.

But the coffee lady rejects your offer, leaving you both blushing madly when she blatantly states you need to be sweet to him “because he’s a nice boy who could do with a friend” and she expects to see you next week. Otherwise, you will have to pay regardless.

(Don’t worry, it’s only a half-loose threat)

Then she walks off, leaving you two absolutely gobsmacked.

Queue awkward silence!

A silence which grows more comfortable when you remark she’s quite the character. He nods in agreement, but before he can open his mouth to reply, one of his uncles, the notoriously hot-headed Arthur Shelby, cuts in.

“Oi, Casanova, that’s enough faffing about. Lend us a hand!”

Michael grumbles something under his breath, glaring at his uncle, before throwing you an apologetic look. ‘Seems like I need to go back to work.’

“It’s alright, I should get a move on too. By the way,” you hold up the coffee/tea, “thanks.”

As you make to carry on, he suddenly jolts forward, looking like he’s ready to jump over the pile of fabric rolls on the stall. “Wait! Before you go, what’s your name?”

You tell him, not missing out on the glimmer in his eyes. “Yours?”

“Michael, Michael Gray.”

“Well, Michael, it was a pleasure meeting you,” you say, starting to feel rather hot under the collar at the sight of him biting his lip when you say his name.

You two exchange numbers and Instagram handles before cracking on with the day.

And repeat that cup of coffee/tea the Saturday after.

And all those to come.

An additional thought: You make a Dutch whale shark as a gift to him, having picked up on how he barely contained his reaction in the face of a cuteness overdose. It’s sitting snugly in the side pocket of his backpack, keeping him company wherever he goes.

[binunus]

sex with bin x eunwoo (m)

a/n THIS WHOLE ALBUM??? IS SO GOOD??? LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK !!!

also im so so sorry that i keep disappearing, every time I think I have a break in school, my professors keep going like sike here’s a new assignment and group presentation 🤡, but I swear I’m still working on all the requests, it’s just a real slow progression this time 😔

but thank you all so much for being really patient with me and my works, i legit wanna cry when I think about how sweet all you loves are ❤️

→ genre: smut

→ tw: threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it lovies) dom!binwoo, brat!reader, light bondage?? anal, eiffel tower, oral (f and m receiving), fingering (f and m receiving), ~choking~ bc it’s me, squirting, v-voyeurism??

→ word count: 3.3k _________________________________

oh good fucking lord

I don’t even know where to start

just the thought of getting dicked down by these two immaculate men??? at the same time??? i would sell my soul

and just binwoo are literally my biases?? im still going back and forth between them (even though I think bin is the top)

alright so how does this little thing even start

this is a non-idol au, lowkey this request is giving me frat boy vibes oops i said it

bin and eunwoo are close, they’re best buds

they have fucked the same guy/girl before, but never at the same time

they just have the same taste in people wink wonk

sidenote: bin and eunwoo as bi kings??? so much power fuck

so you are a mutual friend

you met them both in college and have stayed friends since then

but relationships aren’t for you (not yet at least)

the streets™ are still your companion

yes you have fucked both bin and eunwoo before in college, eunwoo once when you were junior, and bin a couple times throughout senior year

you don’t talk to them often, but if something comes up on your feed or a monumental event happens to any one of you, of course you’d spike up some conversation

so you’re coming back in town for a week or so, visiting old friends and family

and bin hits you up like “hey, I saw that you were in town! we should get some dinner and catch up!”

and you were not about to say no to that, bin was a good part of your college years! it would be nice to hang out with him again

alright you weren’t expecting to get action from this dinner – it popped in your mind, yes, but it wasn’t the ulterior motive

but did you try to dress up a little to impress moon bin?? maybe so

and shit, when he showed up to the restaurant looking like a whole ass man?? 

like did his biceps look more appetizing than the food you were being served? a little bit

conversation was exchanged very easily, you and bin were always a bit flirty with each other, ever since college, but you both knew it never meant anything beyond sex

and so when he asked if you were dating anyone, you knew this was the invitation, and were you going to accept it?? 100%, you haven’t had sex in a while because of your job

and so you find yourself back in bin’s apartment

bin: hm? I guess eunwoo’s not home from work yet

you: eunwoo? as in cha eunwoo? you guys still live together?

bin: yeah, we like living together, rent was cheaper that way, and this place is equidistant from both of our work places...is that a problem??

you: no, I mean it makes sense, just...what if eunwoo comes back while we’re in the middle of fucking...wouldn’t that be weird?

bin shrugging: you’ve had sex with eunwoo in college too, and it’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before either. who knows he might even wanna join?

he said that as a joke alright

but as soon as he mentioned it, your eyes dilated a bit

bin noticed immediately and he caged you against the wall, a little smirk playing on his lips

bin: you seem to like that idea, y/n. hm? you wanna get fucked by both me and eunwoo? didn’t know you were into threesomes

your cheeks are flushing, you felt seen: would you feel weird if he joined? you guys are friends and roommates

bin shaking his head: me and eunwoo have talked about it before, and honestly this seems like the perfect opportunity. we’re all friends here.

you being nervous a little bit bc a threesome?? with both bin and eunwoo?? those two 6 foot attractive men??

you tried a threesome before bc you were curious, but it wasn’t the best hookup experience

you: should we...? wait for him??

your cheeks are flushed a little, like how were you supposed to go about this

bin smiles bc you look a bit cute right now being all shy and he just pinches your cheek

bin: you got cuter since we graduated y/n

you: shut the fuck up bin, don’t make me tie you up again

bin smirks and his hand moves from your cheek to fully grasp at your neck, he squeezes your throat as he pushes you so that your back collided with the wall: baby, if anyone’s getting tied up tonight, it’s gonna be you

and god if you weren’t horny before, you definitely are now, especially with the way bin was cutting off your airflow??? your head was spinning in the best kind of way

bin slotting his thigh in between your legs as he just crashes his lips onto yours

and he’s still choking you when he literally shoves his tongue down your throat, you have to grab onto his broad shoulders just to steady yourself

making out with bin is so hot

he picks you up by your ass and you wrap your legs around his waist, you both are still making out as he leads you to the couch

you’re straddling him oh lord have mercy

you in between kisses: why don’t we go to your room? what, is it messy?

you moan as he spanks your ass at the quip: we’re gonna need to do something about that smart mouth of yours baby...and we’re here to give eunwoo a little show when he comes home. Why, you need a bed? pillow princess? last time I remember, you were fine getting fucked in the maintenance room.

you two go back to kissing, bin’s hands were gripping at your waist now, lifting up the bottom of your shirt so that you could take it off

never in your life have you been so happy to wear a skirt, you could feel the outline of his bulge against your underwear, the fabric of his jeans giving you just enough friction

and when you start grinding on him, he grunts into your mouth and bites on your lower lip

and fuck when bin removes his shirt? he was always built in college but the definition of his muscles now?? you were literally drooling

you: holy shit bin, isn’t your job in business? where do you find the time to workout?

he’s kissing your neck now: you can always find time to workout y/n, just make it part of your daily routine

exercise evangelist moonbin™

you’re tilting your head to the side giving him more access, bin’s sucking hickeys into your neck and it just feels so good

your neck’s a sensitive spot, if you couldn’t tell

and bin knows that so he’s paying extra attention to your neck, you don’t even notice when his hands go around your torso to unclasp your bra

the two of you are literally just topless on his couch, making out and feeling each other up, when lo and behold, eunwoo comes home

his eyes go wide and he immediately covers his face: jesus christ bin, go to your fucking room

bin starts laughing, you know his laugh where his eyes literally crinkle and he smiles so wide and his laugh increases in pitch, that one

you can’t help but laugh too, you thought you would be embarrassed, but this is a bit funny

you: you don’t have to cover your eyes eunwoo, it’s not like you haven’t seen any of this before

eunwoo: oh shit, hey y/n, didn’t know you were coming over?? well...uh if you guys aren’t gonna go to bin’s room, I’m going to mine and just let me know when you’re done

bin: you sure you wanna go to your room? y/n wants you to join us

eunwoo’s blushing a little bit (he’s not covering his face anymore) when you two meet eyes: are you sure y/n?

you get a bit shy again bc shit, eunwoo in a suit coming from work with silver-blue hair? sexy

you: yeah...if you want to, me and bin are cool with it.

bin’s back to kissing your neck as you basically watch eunwoo remove his jacket and tie

and oof him unbuttoning his dress shirt? y’all he’s a tease, they both are

bin: let’s take this back to my room

eunwoo: we can go to mine, it’s cleaner and my bed’s bigger

you: i knew it

bin bites your shoulder and you let out a mix between a yelp of pain and a moan

bin: eunwoo get your ropes, we need to teach y/n a lesson on being bratty

eunwoo chuckling as he leads the way to his bedroom

bin already made himself comfortable on eunwoo’s bed, and you’re standing to the side making conversation as eunwoo looks through his closet for the ropes lol

as soon as eunwoo finds it, there’s a dark change in his eyes and he smirks at you: why don’t you join binnie on the bed, y/n?

your stomach turns in excitement, eunwoo tosses the ropes to bin and he puts a hand on your back as he leads you to his bed, and before you could get on by yourself, eunwoo just tugs your skirt down making you gasp

you lie down and bin grins as he binds your wrists to eunwoo’s headboard, usually you would put up a little fight when you get tied up, but you just stayed silent, you were anticipating what would happen next

bin: you’re being oddly obedient y/n

you’re a brat okay, but in the past when you and bin used to hook up, your brattiness increased by like 100%, like you’re extra bratty with bin for some reason

~it is what it is~

maybe it’s because eunwoo’s here too that your bratty side has suppressed a bit

bin and eunwoo both start removing all their clothes and you’re like shit eunwoo’s built too

bin settles in between your legs and eunwoo leans in and starts kissing you

and mmm eunwoo’s good at making out like he legit be taking your breath away and then you start feeling bin take off your soaked panties and he just goes right in

you literally moan into eunwoo’s mouth and your hands are straining against the ropes bc you just want to hold onto something !!

eunwoo feeling up your breasts and tweaking your nipples while bin is sucking on your clit and probing his tongue in and out your entrance??? euphoric

you’re literally feeling so many sensations right now and it’s just foreplay woo

and then the edging starts

bin??? hella good at eating out, oof what that mouth do

and with the added stimulation from eunwoo kissing your neck and pulling at your nips, you’re reaching your orgasm faster than anticipated

and suddenly they’re both off you

you: what the fuck?

you’re like gasping and glaring at the both of them and they just give you smug looks

bin: I don’t know if you deserve to cum just yet, y/n. right, eunwoo?

eunwoo chuckling as he nods and flicks at your nipple: binnie told me that you like talking back, hmmm that won’t work with both of us here y/n

your submissiveness kicking in and you’re whining: i won’t talk back, I promise

bin: I don’t know if I believe you y/n

and then they switch places and now bin’s making out with you again and eunwoo’s face to face with your cunt and he just shoves two fingers in your entrance and starts scissoring you

and right as you’re about to cum, they pull away again

this goes on at least two more times, you’re literally so frustrated tears are pooling in your eyes and you’re whining hard as hell, your wrists already aching from the ropes 

eunwoo: do you want us to untie you, y/n?

you nodding as you’re sniffling back the tears

aww they feel bad so eunwoo unties the ropes and he’s like gently rubbing at your wrists

bin wiping your tears away as he pinches at your cheek again

bin: you okay, y/n?

you: I’m so close, please

bin: alright baby, who do you want first, hm?

you honestly didn’t know, you had no preference, you just wanted to get railed

eunwoo: why not both?

your eyes go wide a little bit, your ass isn’t even prepped

bin sensing your hesitation and he just puts a hand on your waist: if you don’t want to--

you: no, i want to...I’m just...my ass isn’t ready...

eunwoo laughing cutely as he pats your thigh: we’ll prep you baby, don’t worry

you start by going on all fours, bin enters you first from behind and the groan he lets out bc you’re just so tight wow 

he literally has to restrain himself from just ramming into you, your walls just fit so snugly around him, his nails were digging into the skin of your waist

you open your mouth in a moan at the stretch and in that moment, eunwoo shoves his cock down your throat you literally gag

for reference, they’re both above average, no surprise there, I’d say both around 8 in., but bin’s girthier for sure

and so bin’s fucking your cunt while eunwoo’s fucking your mouth

simultaneously, eunwoo tugs at your hair and bin sneaks a finger down to gather some juices from your pussy before probing at your asshole

bin’s prepping you real well mmmmm

he’s literally fingering your ass while he’s pounding into you, the tip of his cock hitting so deep in your cervix

on the other hand you’re so focused on sucking eunwoo off, you take him as deep in your throat as you could, letting your jaw slack as he just thrusted in your mouth

and also the vibrations of your moans around his cock every time bin hits deep in you???

eunwoo swears he almost busts a nut when your hands reach up to play with his balls

he’s panting as he pulls your mouth off his cock: I need to be inside you before I cum

and then he’s lying down on his back and you start to ride eunwoo, and then bin lines his cock up at your other hole and you start to tense

eunwoo bringing you into a kiss to try and distract you from the pain your asshole’s about to feel

and you start hissing as bin starts to push in, you’re clenching so hard around eunwoo and tugging tightly at the ends of his hair

eunwoo starts making circles on your clit so that you could relax a bit to make it easier for bin to enter your back hole

and then the three of you just stay still for a bit when bin finally bottoms out, you’re still trying to get used to feeling stuffed full, you haven’t been fucked in so long and now you’re getting railed by two cocks??

the two of them are both saying sweet things to calm you down and distract you from the pain

and it’s cute, you know from your respective past hookup experiences with them that they’re really good at sensing discomfort or pain and would always tend to your needs

oof baby but as soon as you give the okay for both of them to move

it’s like you’re taken to another dimension holy shit

they both hit so deep, you swear to god their cocks have to be touching or something, or maybe at least reaching your intestines

when people say rearrange your guts, it definitely must have been this

you’re trying to set a pace on top of eunwoo, but bin thrusting from behind literally makes your knees go weak until eunwoo just lifts his hips and takes over, matching bin’s speed

and imagine this: bin pulling your hair, making your head tilt back and eunwoo just reaches up and covers your neck with his hand before he squeezes at your throat

your eyes are literally rolling into the back of your head, you have never felt this good ever in your life

your head’s spinning again, and you know all three of you are reaching the tipping point pretty soon, your stomach is churning, making you clench hard around both eunwoo and bin

eunwoo biting his lip as he groans, his grip tightening just a bit more around your neck

bin’s still yanking your hair back and he starts spanking your ass, he’s moaning as well

you literally scream, throat feeling raw, as you cum, you have never orgasmed so hard before, your body was convulsing around both of them and you just collapse on top of eunwoo

you’re vision literally sees white and your ears are ringing as they both cum in you

you black out for a little bit

eunwoo and bin: o_o holy fuck

the two of them start panicking like...did they just fuck you dead?? put you in a coma??

okay but just imagine eunwoo and bin bickering with each other about what to do like

bin: do we call 119???

eunwoo: what do we say? we fucked our friend into a coma?

it’s okay because you regain consciousness soon enough and both boys let out the biggest sigh of relief

you: ...what happened?

eunwoo: you passed out for a bit there y/n

you start giggling, much to their surprise, and you try to sit up

bin: ...are you okay y/n?

you: yeah, I can’t believe I blacked out because you guys fucked me so well, that’s pretty hot not gonna lie

eunwoo goes into the kitchen real quick to get you some water and bin sits down next to you

you thank eunwoo when he hands you the glass and he sits across from you and bin

the two roommates exchange a look and just high-five each other

you roll your eyes as they just laugh at each other...ugh boys

bin teasing you: I’ve never seen you so submissive y/n

eunwoo joining in: yeah, didn’t know you could squirt as well

you almost spit out the water: i-huh? no way

eunwoo: yeah, my stomach was soaked, I wiped it off when you were out

your face flushes, you’ve never squirted before

bin: don’t be embarrassed! it was hot, y/n, really

the three of you then just jump into a casual conversation about college, keep in mind you’re all still naked

and then you feel the cum just like in both your holes and it’s just uncomfortably sticky

you: uh...do you guys mind if I shower? my pussy feels gross right now

bin, with a glint in his eyes: I can clean that up for you, baby

before you know it, bin’s eating you out again -- to be more specific, he’s literally licking the mixture of yours and eunwoo’s cum from your cunt

that’s sexy...

you make eye contact with eunwoo and he’s just smirking as he sits back and watches you two, no intention on joining yet

alright but you had no idea if you could take another round right now, the first one literally made you pass out

so after bin makes you cum again, you tap out for the night

the three of you shower -- separately -- and then regroup in the living room to just chat and chill

the two insist you sleep over for the night since it’s past midnight by now

were there also hints of a round two in the morning?? maybe

you sleep in one of eunwoo’s shirts, but end up sleeping next to bin bc he’s whiny and likes cuddling

you three fuck again in the morning oops until eunwoo had to leave for work

then you and bin fuck again afterwards

happy threesome

happy comeback :)

4-5-21

[heresathreebee]

Mourning Black

[Catwoman/Selina Kyle X Female Reader]

Summary: On a day filled with gloom, you gain an unexpected opportunity CATSterlist

Tags: 16+ | 1.1k words | Batman Returns 1992 aka Michelle Pfeiffer Catwoman, swearing, one [1] y/n, mean boss, idolization of criminals, Older Woman/Younger Woman (still like 30 y/o at least), one sided infatuation, expect sequel.

AN: unedited/ no beta welcome to fic 1 of my countdown til the new Batman drops.

It's been three decades since the Cat came to terrorize Gotham city. A world you hardly remembered considering you were only a child. The city thought of her as a troublesome jewel thief, always causing absolute mayhem for the Bat. Not to you, though. 

You adored her. 

Stealing jewels and terrorizing cops had nothing to do with you. Who wouldn't want to take the beautiful jewels people kept in the shops and sold for more than you would ever see in your lifetime? Seeing a photograph of her outfit in a newsprint from 2002 lead you to where you are today: you became a fashion expert. 

You're hardly the lead costume designer, but Gotham Theatre gets steady work and they're the only people hiring… 

"Y/N! Why is Anastasia's ball gown not embellished yet?!" 

You try not to roll your eyes as your boss screams from across the warehouse-like  design room. "Because! I haven't cut the panels of the skirt yet and you told me to have Ivan's third act suit tailored first!" 

"You are not to leave this room until those embellishments are finished!" She walked out before stomping back in and screaming, "do as you are told, or you will be out on the streets selling scraps and scones!" 

After a couple of minutes of blessed silence, you finally close the last stitch on Ivan's waistcoat. Something within the warehouse hits the ground with a thikunk and rolls around on the concrete. As it comes into view, the clay vase is stopped by a tall, black heel. 

Shut up, you think but dare not breathe aloud. She's always been unnecessarily hard on you. She wouldn't fire you if you talked back (she would rather die than pay anyone unemployment), but she would find more ways to make your life hell. 

A woman melts out of the shadows as if she were one. She is tall, long legged, and the brim of her velvet black hat is wide. When she lifts her head, her face is shrouded in the black netting of a mourning veil. 

There was a very important funeral held today, you remember. 

"Oh," you stutter. "Hello." 

Her eyes pierce you through the heart and take your breath away. They are awfully sad and yet hold a power unmatched by anyone you've known before. She is so beautiful and confident that it takes you a hot minute to wonder why she is here.

"How… did you get in?" 

She doesn't answer, just smiles. "That's a very nice little t-shirt you have on there." 

You glance down at your shirt in embarrassment. Most people hated it (most people being the well to do or Batman's fanatics) so you weren't used to compliments. Nobody besides nerdowells liked your Catwoman shirt. 

"Thank… you." You're so shocked by her presence and her compliment that you utter your most secret thoughts, "she's kind of my idol." 

The Woman doesn't scold you like your school teachers had. "Oh? How unusual." 

The Woman's heels click and echo in the chamber of the warehouse, a sound so powerful it is unable to be completely absorbed by all the hanging fabrics everywhere. As she edges closer, you notice a small scar on her chin, the mature lines of her face and the hints of silver amongst her strict, blonde hair. She is a goddess in mourning clothes. It makes you stutter and fidget. 

"Y-yeah, I uh, I guess. I guess I just think that, um, that that would be fun, sort of, maybe. Not– not that crime is fun– I wouldn't know anything about that, what I mean is having jewels and jewelry to wear with fancy clothes uhm… ideally those of the not stolen variety…" 

The Woman sat delicately atop your desk and crossed her ankles. She towered over you from her position and it made your heart beat so much faster that it made you dizzy. 

"I'm sure that your notion was one shared by the late Bruce Wayne." 

Ah, yes. Gotham's brilliant billionaire… the one who was buried today. Passed on his fortune in pieces to a few unknown beneficiaries but the news had been abuzz about the one known– a young Damian Wayne who would inherit his mansion, his land, and his title. 

"Did you know him?," you asked her. "You seem…" 

How did she seem? Mournful of course. Perhaps also lost, exhausted, tired beyond comparison. 

"I did," the Woman answers simply. "We were great friends. Sometimes lovers even. There will never be another man so great as the late…" 

She did not invoke his name. "And that Batman business, well, all great legends carry on a torch, I suppose. There's already another one prowling around these nights, looking to fill those shoes." 

It was a common theory outside of Gotham– that Bruce Wayne had been Batman all along– and not one you as a common Gothamite had given much credit to. Yet the way she says it makes you believe it just might have been true. 

The Bat has been around for ages. If he were but a mortal being, he would have been old by now. As with so many other vigilantes and villains about town. Who would take their place? Batman was a symbol as well as a man. His legacy was one of a mantel which must be passed down. 

And what about the others? The seemingly human heroes? What about your hero, the Cat? Who will step up and fill her shoes? She must be older now too, perhaps still strong enough to continue but for how long? 

"You know, darling, I have been looking for an apprentice of sorts." 

Your eyes flicker back to the Woman. She has discarded her hat, revealing the tumbling gold and silver locks of her hair. And there were other things about her you noticed. Not just that black is her color, but… 

Her jewelry. A silver pinky ring depicting a cat with rubies for eyes. The black embroidery of her jacket seemed to depict snarling jaguars in pursuit of one another, over and over chasing each other in the camouflage of night. And her eyes. Her eyes seemed to glow unnaturally bright, as if lit from an unknown source. 

Could it be…? 

"You… you're… you can't be…" 

If Bruce really was the Bat, then of course she would know him. The Bat and the Cat played almost like a reality show– mostly fighting each other but sometimes alongside each other as their goals happened to align. But… but who was she? 

"Say it, darling." 

"Catwoman," you whisper. 

The way her lips curl is part smile, part snarl. "Very good, my dear. Now, shall we?" 

Graceful as a tigress, she stands and offers you one silk gloved hand. Without a moment's hesitation, you slip your shaking hand into hers and rise from your chair, your needles and thread abandoned on your workspace. She steps, you follow, entranced and excited. 

All the way out into the black of Gotham City night. This Woman– your own idol for so long– bears her teeth and says softly, "we have so much work to do!" 

Tags: @phoenixhalliwell 🧡 if you would also like to be tagged please let me know!

[thewheezingwyvern]

For Arcane April, maybe Shinso w/let’s say number 12? I’ve really been loving any Siren!Shinso stuff I can find. Thank you for your writing! It’s a pleasure to read 💕

This took longer than I thought but then again this ended up longer than I thought. I wanted to try and take like an urban fantasy spin on this but go a bit...grittier? idk. This was just where my brain took me so I hope you like it! <3

Gossamer Web

Siren!Shinsou x Thief!Reader (a bit of sexual tension)

Warnings: Brainwashing, Dubcon (kissing) and blackmail

It was just another party, a gathering for some fundraiser or another that he honestly couldn’t even remember anymore. When you held a position like Hitoshi, seated among the rich and influential, a certain degree of public relations was necessary. And doing events for charity in the eyes of the public was just another part of maintaining his image.  While Shinsou couldn’t remember what party he was even throwing anymore, his assistant would inform him later, he did like to think he knew the face of every important figure in the city. And plenty abroad too.

So his surprise was quite palpable when he saw you.

His lifestyle constantly had him around pretty people, coiffed and waxed to perfection, top of the line brands to smooth over any flaws that could possibly be present. Pretty faces to hide pretty fangs and pretty paint to coat their pretty claws before sinking them into someone. However, yours was a very different sort of attractive. Naturally at an event like this your makeup was applied and done so artfully, but it was in such a way that it enhanced what you had rather than attempted to bury whatever perceived flaw could be seen.

Most women attended these events hoping to look like the most beautiful one in the room, while the men sought to look the most powerful. But you moved and spoke and looked with a different purpose. You were searching for something. Indigo eyes slipped down to eye the gossamer threads of your dress, a stunning thing of spun shadow that fit your body like a glove. But it was only more exquisite whenever you moved, showcasing the elaborate enchantment that was woven into the very threads. Stars would wink and burst from your body, along with tufts of purple black clouds. But strung on a simple silver chain was the bespelled glow of a crescent moon. 

HItoshi found himself breaking away from whatever boring conversation he was caught in to approach you, eyes glinting with interest. You were even more stunning up close, showing that you held a natural glow all on your own. With every step closer, the wink of starlight woven into your hair like constellations would catch his eye, beckoning him further to you. Whatever witch had magicked your clothes and hair was very talented and knew what they were doing.

“You look a bit lost.” he said to you after drawing very close to your back, close enough that it pulled a startled squeak past your lips, “Can I help you find something?”

Hitoshi deliberately laid the smooth demeanor on thick, a crooked smirk quirking on his lips. If he wasn’t so good at reading expressions, he might have missed the string of emotions that flitted across your face and in your eyes but he caught them. First surprise followed closely by recognition which melted to a look of worry or fear. And then it was gone beneath the smouldering curve of a coy smile.

“Hmmm and what if I just found it?”

A line he’d heard before but there was something lacking behind the delivery. Shinsou couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there wasn’t enough spice between the lines that gave the tell tale sign of someone looking for a quick fuck. Curious. A charming smirk wormed its way onto his lips, hiding the way his mouth had already began watering at the prospect of finding out more of what you were looking for. Anyone who came here with a purpose usually intended to use something against him. 

“Well I guess that depends,” Hitoshi purred lowly to you, “what was it you were planning to do after you found me?”

This would have been the perfect opportunity for you to make another pass at him. To hint at how you wanted to be pressed against him in the throes of passion or whatever other way that it could be worded. But you completely skipped over that chance. One of your hands drifted up to toy with the luminous crescent moon that hung around your neck, deep and thoughtful eyes assessing him carefully.

“I guess I just wanted to see the man behind the name in person.”

A predatory glint sparked in his eyes, indigos boring into you as he drew impossibly close. Even through the well made fabric of his Armani suit, Hitoshi could feel the warmth of your body. He tilted his dark lavender head, drinking in the sight of you and how you seemed to fidget with him drawing nearer. The CEO decided he was going to make use of a power that he had at his disposal that very few people knew about. 

He tipped your head up to look into his face before purring out, “Tell me your name.”

The magic woven into his very vocal cords twisted around you, bewitching you, until a glaze had fallen over your eyes, pupils swelling beneath the grip of his enthrallment. It was almost unfair how easily he could twist people to his whim with the power of his voice, have them spill their deepest secrets and desires to him. So to hear your mouth and tongue curl delightfully around your real name, it sent a surge of satisfaction.

“A beautiful name, Kitten.” a thumb traced along the curve of your jaw, “What were you really looking for tonight?”

“You keep the Wayfarer’s Orb here, third floor behind a wall of several enchantments and and a summon from the Infernal district,” you recited to him almost dreamily, “I’m going to steal it.”

Hitoshi tilted his head, dark smirk on his lips, “And what else? I know you didn’t risk pissing me off just for that.” he pressed a taunting kiss to your temple before leaning back, “Tell me the story while you walk with me, I want to hear all about it.”

He pulled your body close to his, your side pressed up against his as he led you away with an arm wrapped around your waist possessively. To anyone else, it would just appear as if he had found a new play thing that he was taking off to have some fun with. And in a way that was true. Indigo eyes swept over your delightful body and he couldn’t help but think how satisfying and how it would be to see you a broken little mess under him. A wet tongue snaked out to lick at his lips, arousal spiking in him. You’d look so pretty arching your back, column of your tender throat bared for him to bite as he speared inside of you.

“The orb was just a bonus and a way to cover my true intentions. I’ve already begun uploading valuable intel from your security databases and placed trackers so I can find more information about you and sell it.”

“What a clever little thing…” Hitoshi hummed down at you, fingertip tracing small circles on your hip, “And I’ve no shortage of enemies so you could charge whatever you wanted and they would pay it.” He led you deeper into his mansion, guiding the way up to the wing where he kept the stone you had planned to take, “You looked scared when you saw me...did you know that I’m a Siren?”

“Suspected but wasn’t sure.” 

The dry drone of your voice was so satisfying. It was a song in and of itself, tongue curling around your forced submission to him anything he wanted you to. Hitoshi only stopped guiding you when the both of you reached the room which held the Wayfarer Orb on a pedestal. It was a smooth, polished stone of milky white with flashes of crimson red flecked throughout its surface.  He had acquired it at least a year ago, an ancient stone said to help bring protection to the owner. It seemed necessary given how rapidly he had grown his empire.

“Look at me Kitten.” he yanked you to him, the sweet swell of your breasts pressed against his front, “Would you like it if I kissed you?”

He would be lying if he said that he asked this question with completely innocent intent. The thought of claiming your mouth was tempting but he wanted to know if you had at all been tempted by him in the brief time he spoke with you. Or while you did your research. Hitoshi swept a thumb along your lower lip, parting your mouth for him as you stared blankly at him.

“Yes.”

Shinsou dipped his head and brushed his mouth faintly against yours, murmuring, “When did you start feeling attracted to me?”

“We’ve met before. Enji’s holiday gala. We danced together.”

Now that was interesting. He pulled back, brows shooting up as he looked down at you. Despite how closely he studied your face, the sweep of your cheek bones, the hue of your eyes, he couldn’t remember you at all. Indigo eyes lidded lazily, a stray fingertip dragging along the arch of a brow.

“Why don’t I remember you then?”

“I spiked your drink with a memory potion.”

Shock zinged through him then. It had been proper years since the last time anyone had gotten the jump on him and yet there you were, speaking only honesty for his ears as his voice compels you. Had this encounter never happened, he never would have known. If you could pull a stunt like that then the skills you have were unspeakably valuable and he had every plan to use them. Shinsou chuckled softly before dropping the enthrallment of his voice around you. 

The world came spinning back then, awareness creeping into the edges of your thought as you tried to grasp just where you were. By the time your pupils had refocused, he was crushing his mouth down onto yours. A muffled squeal was his answer along with you pushing at his chest. But the sensuous way his mouth moved against yours had you melting in his arms, soft moans humming in your throat as he kissed you.

When he finally broke the kiss, both of you were panting while you glared daggers up at him.

“What the fuck?!” you ripped yourself free of his grasp, staggering backwards with a hand clutched to your mouth, “What’re you doing?!”

The look of frustration blended heavenly with your flustered expression. Mirth spilled over in his open mouthed smirk. Casually he slipped his hands into his coat pockets, cocking a brow and half lidding his eyes at you. Tilting his head to the side, a soft laugh rumbled in his chest, drinking in your more outraged expression.

“Nothing you don’t want me to do, Kitten.”

“And how do you work that out?”

“You told me yourself.” Hitoshi gestured out towards the vault, hand showing you the glint of the Orb you came to steal, “Along with your goals. Your suspicions proved right.”

“Shit…”

“Now here’s how things are going to go,” he slowly advanced on you, “you’re going to put those skills of yours to work for me.”

You glared at him, “And if I refuse?”

“Well, I use my abilities and have you out yourself to every powerful figure here tonight.” that smirk widened, “You’re that one thief that’s been targeting all the high rollers, aren’t you? I imagine that they would all love to meet you.”

Fear flooded your eyes then, “You...you wou-”

“Wouldn’t I? If you’ve done your homework about me then you know how much of a dangerous man I can be.”

You had done your homework and that was truer than you would like to admit. Hitoshi’s public image was great but if you dug a little deeper, strange disappearances that surrounded him. Brainwashing you and having you out your secret to some of the most influential people of the city who would love to see you punished for your work. It would be the end of you and he knew you would have no choice but to work for him. 

And that was how you, The Firefly, thief of rich assholes extraordinaire, came to work for Shinsou Hitoshi. Through blackmail and the threat of one of the most powerful men in the city ruining you.

[capsironunderoos]

December

DINCEMBER - December 2 - December (Ariana Grande Version)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Female!Reader

Summary: A little thievery, a little marketplace, a little mysterious allusions to past lives, and a little green baby.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None that I can think of! (Possibly my writing because this one is... something else)

Author’s Note: Ah okay so I know this is a day or so late, but I still wanted to keep up with @dindjarindiaries​ Dincember! This prompt was December by Ariana Grande and I can’t lie I’d never heard the song before! It’s really good though (and I definitely added it to my “baking Christmas cookies with matthew gray gubler” playlist). I was inspired by the lines “I’m just tryna keep my baby warm through the wintertime” and “whatever is on your list I’ll do it,” but probably not in the way you’d expect... Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy this one, I have a love hate relationship with how it turned out... Also, I do make some allusions to the readers past, but you can fill those in however you like! Was she an Imperial spy? A Rebel spy? Maybe she flew alongside Luke Skywalker, or learned how to beat Lando at sabacc! Who knows! That’s completely up to you. Anywho, this was a really long author’s note sheesh... Enjoy! 

Here’s the previous prompt:

DINCEMBER - November 30 - Snow

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

It’s almost cold today, you find yourself thinking as a slight breeze picks up the fabric sitting on your sale table. 

You’re carefully folding your newest line of fabrics onto the table before you, making sure they’re arranged in a way that will draw people in, and will get you enough credits to at least try out the new caf they’re selling at the cantina. 

You smile at the thought and smooth out a wrinkle in the bright red fabric before turning to look around you. 

The marketplace seems almost empty. Normally you have to elbow a few Jawa to get through the crowd and set up your table, but today was unnaturally easy. 

It’s almost unsettling how quiet the town is, normally on market days patrons all the way from Mos Eisley find their way to the multi-colored booths. Your booth tends to be pretty popular, as it’s rare to find a seamstress on a dust ball like Tatooine. 

It doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes either, and that you know how to work an unsuspecting husband into buying something new for his wife, or a new mother into buying a cloth sling to carry her crying baby in. 

It also doesn’t hurt that there don’t seem to be enough rumors about you. 

Some point and whisper as they walk by, saying you once sewed the robes worn by Jedi and Sith alike. Others stare in the cantina as they place bets on which royal you sewed for and if you ever got to live on a core planet. 

Of course none of them are true, and most of them were started by you to thrum up good business. 

What can you say? The caf at the cantina is really good. 

It’s been a few minutes now, well past the opening hour of the market, and the number of booths is still few and far between. 

You hum in disappointment, accepting that you won’t be making many, if any sales today. You begin to sit down on the stool you bring along for days like this when you see a scrap of your best-selling silver cloth suspiciously fly off of the table. 

It takes a second, but you note that there’s no wind blowing, so there’s no way it was carried off by a sudden strong breeze. 

You grab the small stun gun you keep tucked away in your belt, slowly moving around the table, already knowing you’re about to have another run in with a Jawa. 

Your footsteps are measured, and if anyone were to pay enough attention, they’d notice that a seamstress wouldn’t know how to move the way you are. 

As you creep around the table, you notice that another scrap of fabric, this time green, is swept away as if by an invisible being. 

Your steps pick up then, and you round the table just in time to see a small creature waddling away from your booth, fabric dragging the ground as it struggles to carry a stolen bounty almost as large as the creature is. 

“Hey! Not so fast, little one!” You call out, and the creature turns to look at you. 

He squeaks in alarm and begins… running? 

You think it’s possibly running, or trying to at least. 

You note how large its clothes are, and how they seem to be tripping it up as it tries to escape. 

If it hadn’t been stealing from you, you’d almost have felt bad for it. 

Three more lunging steps later and you’ve managed to put your stun gun away and scoop the small being into your arms. It wails in disapproval and struggles against you in a feeble attempt to get away, but your grip is tight enough to keep it tucked into the crook of your arm. 

“Now where do you think you’re going with that?” You ask as you grab the fabric from its hands. 

As cute as you suddenly realize it is, it’s hard to miss how stubbornly it holds onto the fabric. 

You begin to walk back to your booth, scanning the area for anyone who might be searching for it. 

It’s calmed down now, and you turn to see it’s big brown eyes staring up at you. 

“Oh don’t give me that look. Doesn’t matter how cute you are, you still gotta pay like everyone else.” 

The little one coos in response, as if understanding and responding to your statement. 

“Uh huh,” you nonchalantly agree to its babbling as you do your best to fold the fabrics back into their places with one hand, your left arm currently supporting the child in it. 

“Is there someone you’re supposed to be with right now? A leash you broke off or, um, maybe a cage you got out of? Or are you somebody’s kid?” You question, and it looks up at you, blinking quietly and deciding that now it’ll be quiet.

“Well, I doubt you’re anybody’s kid, ‘cause I’ve never seen anything like you around here. But I also doubt that you’re anybody’s pet, ‘cause I know good and well no one would be able to keep you on a leash, especially not in a cage. You’re too cute for all that. Besides, I think you might be able to escape too easily anyways.” 

The child laughs at that, and you find yourself smiling in response. 

“Hey I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to pull that fabric off of my table. You’re not exactly the same height.” You wonder aloud, and the child moves to sit up as best it can in your arms. 

You apologize to it before sitting it on the table and pulling your stool up. 

It doesn’t really matter if it tries to run off, you already know you could catch the poor thing in two steps. 

The creature watches you intently, tilting its head as if inspecting you, or searching you for something. 

You furrow your eyebrows at its actions, leaning up to get a little bit closer to it. 

You notice movement out of the corner of your eye and sit back again, watching as the little one begins to raise one of his hands. 

You can feel your heart rate pick up as your mind races to put together what the child is trying to show you, but before the connection can be made a set of quick and heavy footsteps are striding up to your table. 

“There you are,” you hear through the crackle of a modulator, which cues you to turn and see a Mandalorian taking long strides to your booth. 

Dread instantly fills your chest, and you quickly stand up, glancing down at your stun gun sticking out of your boot and back to the Mandalorian. 

Was he talking to you or the kid? Regardless of whichever one he was talking to, you have a feeling you’re both about to be in some trouble. 

Last you knew you didn’t have an active bounty on your head, but that had been too many rotations ago to remember. Surely the small child beside you wouldn’t have an active bounty, it hardly knew how to speak, much less commit a serious crime against the New Republic, or the remaining Imps for that matter. 

Your wandering thoughts are quickly answered as the Mandalorian scoops the little green being in its arms. 

“I told you to stay put kid,” his tone is meant to come off as scolding, but you can hear the worry in his voice. 

The child is grinning from ear to ear, obviously happy to see the man before you. 

“You know,” you start, and the Mandalorian turns to you as if noticing you for the first time. 

“I can sew you something to wear that he can ride in. Can match the color to that fancy beskar and everything.” 

At the mention of his armor, you notice the Mandalorian stand a bit straighter. 

“No, thank you. I hope that he wasn’t too much of a bother.” 

The child laughs at the mention of himself, and you find yourself fighting a grin. 

“Well, other than trying to make off with two of my best-selling fabrics,” you shrug and the Mandalorian returns his gaze to the kid, who has gone suspiciously silent. 

“Did you give them back?” He chastises the child again, but before it has a chance to answer you step in. 

“I got them back. He tried to make a run for it, but he’s not very fast.” 

A beat of silence passes between the three of you before you continue. 

“I could fix that too. Those clothes are obviously too big for him.” 

The Mandalorian sighs, but it comes out as a crackle. How had you managed to finally meet the first customer you’d ever had that was able to resist your persuading? 

“I said no thank you earlier, and the same applies now.” 

You raise your hands in defense, feigning innocence. 

“Alright Mando, alright,” you taunt him and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

“I’m just trying to keep that baby warm through the winter time.” 

At the reference to him, the kid squirms in the Mandalorians arms, turning to look at you with big eyes, full of want. 

“Whatever’s on your list, I’ll do it. I’m the best around. Actually, I’m the only around.” 

You decide to try one last time, and even if he doesn’t respond or buy, at least you’ll know what to work on when the next Mandalorian shows up at your table. 

He’s quiet for too long, and you turn your attention back to the kid. 

“I see why you wanted that silver, little one. It’d match ole tin can man perfectly.” 

You taunt him again, and the Mandalorian continues to stand still. 

After another beat of silence, you hear the scramble of feet behind him, and you move to glance over his shoulder. 

“Peli!” You exclaim, and she smiles as she sees you, but you notice her smile growing even bigger when she sees the kid peeking through the Mandalorians arms to see her. 

“Hey kiddo! And… kiddo,” she jokes as she moves to stand beside Mando. 

The kid makes grabby-arms towards her and she laughs, accepting him into her arms. 

“This that Mando you were telling me about over caf the other week?” You question and she nods. 

“As he lives and breathes. At least, I think he’s living and breathing.” 

You nod in agreement. 

“Come on Mando,” she prompts, gesturing for him to follow her. 

“Your ship has some… problems, to say the least, and I need an opinion that isn't a pit droids.” 

You wave to the child as Peli retreats back in the direction she came before turning to face the Mandalorian once more. 

“Offer still stands,” you start, and his helmet moves ever so slightly to look at you. 

“Response is still the same,” he combats, and you laugh.

---

Three days later and Din is ready to get off of this sand pit. 

He normally doesn’t mind coming and visiting Peli, having the Crest regularly serviced while taking a few days to visit old friends or to simply sit with the feisty mechanic and his kid. 

But he’s got stuff to do now, and Life Day is just around the corner. 

He didn’t remember too much of his childhood, but he remembered celebrating Life Day with his parents when they were still alive. Therefore, he wants to give the kid a good Life Day this year, as Din was almost certain he’d never experienced one before. 

This meant gathering gifts specifically for the little creature, and that meant trekking across the galaxy before settling onto Nevarro to celebrate Life Day with Cara and Greef. 

He watches from afar as the pit droids finish up their final touches, making sure the Crest has a full tank before he’s cleared to go. 

“Hey Mando!” 

He hears from behind him, and he turns to see Peli marching towards him. 

“Looks like you made an impression a few days ago. I’ve never known her to do anything for free, much less as a gift.” 

Din immediately knows that Peli is talking about you, and he wishes that he didn’t. 

You’ve been all he can think about, and he hates himself for literally just standing there as you tried to talk to him. 

Peli pulls him from his thoughts as she extends her hands to him, offering a gift wrapped in dark brown paper. 

Din takes it from her and mutters a thank you. 

“You’re welcome,” Peli replies dramatically before stomping off to find the kid. 

Din can read the basic scrawled on top that reads “For the tin can man and his green kid,” and he feels himself smiling at the scrawl of your handwriting. 

He quickly opens the box, not surprised to see a small dark brown robe, almost the color of the fabric he wears, sitting atop a silver pile of fabric. 

He pulls the robe out first, noticing how well it has been sewn together, already knowing that the child’s going to never want to wear anything else now. 

He then pulls out the silver fabric, noticing that it looks to be something for him. 

“Oh yeah new moms put their kids in that at the market! You just strap ‘em right to your chest and they never cry again,” Peli calls from her spot beside the ship where she’s been holding the kid and watching Din. 

Din finds his smile growing even more, and he’s almost surprised to see another note in the box, written on what looks like handmade paper. 

The basic is even more scrawled in this note, as if you’d decided to put it in at the last minute. 

Din pulls it from the box and can't help but to smile from ear to ear as he reads it. 

Just trying to keep that baby warm through the wintertime. Anything else on your list I can do, but you’re gonna have to actually pay this time. Happy Life Day.  

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hot Chocolate

[reinerispretty]

beneath the moon. (sokka x f!reader) pt14

hiii i hope u are having a wonderful day! this is our lovely reader’s tale of ba sing se episode :) + more!

pt1

pt13

pt15

(Y/N) swallowed uncomfortably. He gave her a smirk as she approached. “I see you’re not wearing the necklace,” He said.

“I gave it away,” She said quickly. He blinked at her, obviously surprised. “I found someone who needed it more than I did. Really, thank you for buying me the necklace. I can pay you back but I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t need it.”

As much as she didn’t act like it, (Y/N) had grown up as a princess. Respect had always been given to her, automatically. And while things changed slightly when she had joined Team Avatar, the reputation of traveling with Aang had surpassed her. Most of the time, when they arrived at new places, they were greeted with welcoming smiles and treated with kindness. But things were different in Ba Sing Se. 

She had been treated like a child before, yes, but she had never felt so undermined and disrespected than when she was within the city’s walls. Their guide, Joo Dee, ignored all of her questions and requests about the city and acted like (Y/N) hadn’t said anything at all. (Y/N) didn’t like a lot of things, and not being taken seriously was one of them. She had left home to be in charge of her own life, after all, and being treated like a little kid when she had probably done more daring things than any of the Dai Lee combined infuriated her. 

And she could not spend one more second cooped up in the house with her friends. Of course, she loved them with all of her heart, but being around Sokka so often irked her incessantly. Every little thing he did, every comment he made, infuriated her. It wasn’t even because she was mad at him! She was mad at herself, for liking him so much, and her anger directed itself toward him. She knew she wasn’t being kind to Sokka, but (Y/N) had realized over the years that she would always be the complete opposite of her sister. If Yue was a gentle snow, (Y/N) was a thunderstorm. 

So she resolved to take the day to herself. As (Y/N) thought about it, she hadn’t really had a moment alone since leaving the Northern Water Tribe, and she was someone who strongly valued her alone time. She called over her shoulder to her friends that she was going out and then she went to the streets of Ba Sing Se. 

Their place was in the Inner Ring, where royalty and aristocrats of the city lived. The only way (Y/N) could describe her scenery was beautiful. Buildings towered over her, intricately and ornately decorate in wooden and gold embellishments. There were still peddlers in the streets, but all of their goods seemed expertly made and wonderfully handcrafted. She slowed her pace as she walked by them, marveling medals and dazzling jewels. 

“Would the beautiful Water Tribe lady like a necklace?” Asked one woman, offering (Y/N) a silver necklace with dangling teardrop sapphires. (Y/N) stared at her, surprised. 

“Oh, no thank you,” (Y/N) said, smiling at the woman. “It’s too nice for me.” As beautiful as it was, (Y/N) knew that it wouldn’t last long during her travels. She had already lost most of her painting supplies and sketches when they were in the desert. She didn’t want to risk losing anything else. 

“Are you sure? I can give you a discount!” The woman was very insistent, but (Y/N) shook her head. 

“I’ll buy it for her.” (Y/N) turned to the source of the voice. At her side stood a boy, probably about her age, with shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He was lanky and tall, her head just barely coming to his chest. Despite herself, (Y/N’s) face heated up. 

“No, it’s really okay,” She insisted, but the boy was already handing the woman his money. He dropped the necklace into (Y/N’s) hands. 

“Sometimes, pretty girls deserve pretty things,” The boy told her. (Y/N’s) lips tightened into a thin line. 

“I don’t need it,” She said, taking him by the hand and dropping the necklace into it. It looked valuable. (Y/N) bet he could get more than what he paid for it. 

“Come on, you’re Water Tribe! It matches your whole outfit perfectly.” 

“I don’t really care if it matches my outfit,” (Y/N) said, scrunching her nose at him. “Thank you for the offer, but I really don’t need this necklace. I’d just lose it.” 

“Alright, how about you hold on to it for today, and I’ll meet you here later to see if you’ve lost it? If you haven’t, you get a necklace, and if you have, you buy me dinner. Deal?” He shoved the necklace back into her hands and disappeared into the crowd before (Y/N) could protest. She rushed after him, trying to keep up with his quick movements, but she couldn’t. She hadn’t meant to, but somehow she had gotten swept up in the crowds of Ba Sing Se and ended up in the Middle Ring, far from where she had begun her walk. 

Slightly annoyed at herself for not paying attention, she leaned up against a stone building and sat on the ground. She stared at the necklace in her hands. It was beautiful. It looked like something Yue would try to get (Y/N) to wear at one of her birthday banquets. She could almost hear her now: “Come on, (Y/N)! It’ll look so pretty with your eyes.” (Y/N) pocketed it, squeezing at the fabric of her dress until she could feel the outline of the stone. 

(Y/N) had almost decided to head back to her friends when a little boy ran up to her, his eyes wide in panic. His head was shaved and dirt was matted onto his face and clothes. “Are you a waterbender?” He demanded, gesturing to the blue of her dress. (Y/N) furrowed her brows, but nodded in response. “I need your help!” He grabbed her by the hand and tugged her to her feet. (Y/N) stumbled to keep up with his fast little legs. 

“Wait, who are you!” She asked as he brought her through alleyways and underneath make-shift bridges. The kid was leading her to the outskirts of the Middle Ring, where makeshift huts and houses were made from straw and mud. She frowned as they came to a stop. 

“My name’s Li,” The little boy said to her. “When the soldiers came back, they marched through our part of town and got mud and dirt all in our water. We can’t even drink it anymore!” To punctuate his statement, he opened a barrel to show her murky brown water. “You’ve got to help us.” 

(Y/N) didn’t hesitate to act. “I need another container to put the water in once it’s cleaned,” She said. He picked up a large tin pail and dropped it at her feet. 

“Will that work?” He asked. (Y/N) shrugged, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” (Y/N) stretched out her fingers, lifting one arm over the other as she drew the water from the mud. She tried to imagine the dirt particles separating as she placed the water in the metal pail. When she had finished, she looked at the job she had done. The water was so clear that it showed the bottom of the pail clearly. (Y/N) smiled to herself. 

“Thank you Miss Water Tribe!” Li exclaimed. “Can you help my friends with their water too?” (Y/N) nodded. 

“Of course!” 

That was how (Y/N) had spent her day. She had cleaned the water of everyone who brought it to her and then she asked Li to take her to the nearby houses to see if anyone needed more help. Some of the people she saw were parents of young children or the elderly, people who couldn’t manage to carry their water to her. She cleaned their water as quickly as she could and then moved onto the next house. 

By the time she finished her work, (Y/N) was exhausted. She hadn’t realized just how much energy waterbending would take out of her, but she was happy to have helped. Li walked with her back to the wall of the Inner Ring. He knew a spot to get her back in without needing to involve any guards. 

“Thank you for today, Miss Water Tribe,” Li said as they walked. His hands were in the pockets of his tattered pants. (Y/N) shrugged. 

“Thank you for letting me help,” She said. “It’s rude that those Earth Kingdom soldiers ruined your water and didn’t do anything about it.” Li bit the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but they’re kind of jerks to the people down here. They think they’re better than us because they live close to the Earth King.” He looked at her, his green eyes curious. “What are you doing in the Inner Ring?” 

“I’m staying with a friend,” She said. She wanted to be honest with him, to tell him about Aang, but a part of her liked that someone didn’t know who she was. That they treated her like a human being and an equal. 

“Oh,” Was all Li said. He stopped at the wall, pulling at the rusty metal grate. It gave way with barely a screech, giving (Y/N) access to go back inside. She crawled through, crouching so that she could see Li’s small frame. 

“I want to give you something,” She reached inside of her pocket and pulled out the necklace. It glimmered in the moonlight and Li’s eyes widened at the sight of it. She placed it in his small hands. “That should take care of you for a little while. I wouldn’t sell the whole thing at once, someone might get suspicious. Take the stones out whenever you need to buy something.” 

Li looked at the necklace and then back to her. He seemed stunned and a little suspicious that she had just pulled a probably very valuable necklace out of her pocket. (Y/N) smiled at him once more. 

“I won’t be here for long,” She said. “Hopefully that helps you for a lot longer than I have.” With that, she left, walking back onto the pristine streets of the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se. She was exhausted, but the thought of a warm meal, a hot bath, and sleep kept her going. 

The boy she had met earlier that day was waiting for her where she had lost him. (Y/N) swallowed uncomfortably. He gave her a smirk as she approached. “I see you’re not wearing the necklace,” He said. 

“I gave it away,” She said quickly. He blinked at her, obviously surprised. “I found someone who needed it more than I did. Really, thank you for buying me the necklace. I can pay you back but I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t need it.” 

The boy smiled. “I suppose you owe me dinner then.” (Y/N) shrugged, crossing her arms over her body. 

“You can walk me home. I’m sure my friends have made dinner already. And don’t try to kidnap me or anything because I’m a waterbender and I can slice you in half.” The boy laughed in surprise as they started walking. 

“A waterbender, huh? I met a waterbender a long time ago. Maybe you know her!” 

“There are two tribes of us, I honestly doubt it.” The boy hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Okay, so which tribe are you from?” (Y/N) glanced at the moon that was rising in the horizon. 

“The Northern Water Tribe.” The boy whistled. 

“You’re a long way from home,” He said. “I heard rumors that the Fire Nation attacked them a few months ago. Were you there when that happened?” (Y/N) nodded, not trusting her voice enough to answer. That night hurt to talk about, still. “I’m sorry,” He said, his voice soft. “The Fire Nation attacked my village when I was little. They killed both my parents.” 

(Y/N) glanced at him. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“I’m sorry for yours, too.” She looked at him, surprised. “I’ve seen grief enough in the mirror to know what it looks like.” 

“The Fire Nation didn’t kill her directly, I suppose. They killed the Moon Spirit, which had saved my sister’s life when she was a baby. She gave her own life so the Moon Spirit could live on.” 

“I’ve heard about you,” He said as they reached the steps of her house. “You’re the Runaway Princess.” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I hardly ran away. My parents knew where I was going.” 

“From what I’ve heard, there’s been some challengers to your father’s position as chief. Since he has no more heirs-” Before the boy could finish what he was saying, the front door flew open. Sokka rushed down the steps. 

“(Y/N)! Where have you been all day? I looked around the entire Inner Ring but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

“I told everyone I was going out earlier today,” She muttered, holding herself back from snapping. Sokka looked to the boy at her side, his gaze immediately turning harsh. 

“What are you doing with Jet?” Sokka’s voice was laced with venom, his tone harsher than (Y/N) had ever heard before. 

“He walked me home,” was the only explanation (Y/N) offered before she stared at Jet, her lips set in a frown and her expression serious. “Tell me what’s going on in the North.” 

“I’ve heard from a lot of refugees that a civil war is inevitable,” Jet said. “If the Fire Nation figures out that the North is weak, they’ll attack again.” 

(Y/N) had never imagined that she would feel such a twist of pain in her heart at his words. The place she had grown up despising and wanting nothing more to escape was on the brink of disaster. Because of her. 

“Sokka?” Katara asked, stepping out of the doorway of the house, with Toph and Aang trailing closely behind. Katara’s demeanor changed just as quickly as Sokka’s, but the only difference between the two siblings was that Katara was ready to fight. She took the water from the pouch at her hip to form a water whip. 

“Woah!” (Y/N) exclaimed, walking up the steps to stop Katara. Aang grabbed onto her arm. Katara’s waterbending didn’t waver for a second. 

“What do you want, Jet?” She demanded, her voice having the same edge of roughness that Sokka’s had. The two were more similar than (Y/N) had ever noticed. 

“I was walking your friend home,” He said. “I didn’t know she lived with you guys, honestly. She didn’t tell me.” The group of four looked at (Y/N), Sokka and Katara’s expressions riddled with anger. 

“I don’t even know who he is!” She gestured down at Jet. “We met earlier today, in the market.” 

“Is that who you spent your whole day with?” Sokka snapped. (Y/N) whirled on him, her eyes blazing with fury. 

“Not at all,” She said, her voice low and threatening. She didn’t know why his anger had been directed at her, but she wasn’t going to have it. “If you really must know, I spent my day in the Middle Ring, cleaning their water.” 

“I saw her walking home by herself, I just wanted to make sure she got back safe.” Jet looked at Katara earnestly, but the girl scoffed at him.

“How very gentlemanly of you,” She sneered. “I don’t remember you being this kind when you tried to drown a village full of people.” 

“What?” (Y/N) nearly shrieked. “What is going on here that you guys aren’t telling me?” 

“It was before we met you,” Aang said. “Jet tried to drown a village of innocent people just to kill the members of the Fire Nation that were there.” 

“Listen,” Jet said, lifting his hands up defensively. “I know I did some bad things in the past. But I’m a different guy now! I came to Ba Sing Se to start a new life. And now that I’ve found you guys, I have to tell you. I overhead some guys talking about moving an air bison. I’m assuming it’s yours?” 

“You know where Appa is?” Aang’s voice was so full of hope, of promise. Jet nodded. 

“I followed them around and they led me to a barn. I saw Appa inside.” 

“We have to go!” Aang leapt into the air, landing beside Jet. 

“What if it’s a trap?” Katara asked, narrowing her eyes at the tall, lanky boy. 

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take to get Appa back.” Aang stared at his friends. “I’m going, and you can either come with me or stay behind.” And although (Y/N) was exhausted, could feel it weighing down her limbs, she walked down the steps to stand beside Aang. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze in thanks. (Y/N) squeezed back. 

Toph walked down to stand beside them and soon a disgruntled Sokka and Katara were following along as Jet led them back into the Middle Ring. (Y/N) slowed her steps so that she could fall in stride with Katara. Her face was turned down into a frown. 

“What happened?” (Y/N) asked. Katara sighed. 

“On our way to the North, we ran into Jet and his group. We thought they were a steal from the rich, give to the poor type of people, until Jet was going to use blasting jelly to destroy the dam and flood a town entirely full of people. If Sokka hadn’t warned everyone, they would’ve all died.” 

“Sokka saved them?” (Y/N’s) eyes went to the boy who walked in front of her, exchanging casual conversation with Toph. His ponytail bounced with each step. 

Katara nodded. “I thought that Jet was a great guy when I first met him. But now, I just don’t trust him.” 

“He told me something, about my tribe.” (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath. “He said that he heard my father is being challenged for his position as chief since he doesn’t have anymore heirs. He said that there might be a civil war in the North soon, and if the Fire Nation finds out about it, they’ll attack again.” 

Katara placed her hand on (Y/N’s) shoulder, squeezing it tightly to provide some sort of comfort. (Y/N) wasn’t one for physical affection. “As soon as we get the Earth King on our side, we can fly back to the North Pole to make sure everything is okay. It’s all rumors; it might not even be true!” (Y/N) nodded and thanked Katara for her advice, but she had a feeling deep in her stomach that what Jet had told her was, in fact, true. 

---

This had been one of the longest days of (Y/N’s) life. They hadn’t found Appa, but had been told that he had been shipped off to Whaletail Island. Just as they were devising their plan to fly there, their group ran into two of Jet’s friends, who claimed that they hadn’t seen him in days. Jet denied this, but the inconsistencies in his story were suspicious enough that they locked themselves in the house Jet was squatting in until they could figure out what was happening. 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to participate in what was happening, she sat in a chair at the edge of the room, her eyes heavy and her stomach rumbling uncontrollably. She hadn’t eaten since she left that morning and after an entire day of waterbending, she felt ravenous. She leaned against the table, her chin in her palm, thinking of all the foods she would eat if they ever went back home. 

Sokka wandered over to her, taking a seat at the chair next to her. The rest of their group intensely discussed their options of what to do with Jet. “Checked out for the night?” (Y/N) tried to nod but her head felt so heavy that she wasn’t sure if it moved or not. 

“I didn’t eat lunch or dinner and I was waterbending all day today.” Sokka looked over his shoulder at the others and then stood, looping (Y/N’s) arm through his. “What are you doing?” She asked, her nose scrunching in distaste but she made no move to stop him. 

“I’m going to take you home and we’re gonna get some food in you and put you to bed. We can’t fight bad guys if you’re falling asleep.” He told the rest of the group their plans and then led (Y/N) out into the night. 

She wasn’t meaning to be leaning on Sokka so much, but she was too tired and too focused on how good he smelled and how nice it was to be this close to him. They walked in silence for the first few minutes before Sokka spoke. “I heard what Jet told you.” The sinking feeling returned to (Y/N’s) stomach. She had forgotten about what was going on back in her tribe for a few hours while she focused on not falling asleep, and she felt ashamed because of it. 

“It’s all my fault,” (Y/N) said with a sigh, but there was no emotion to her voice. It was like she had accepted her statement as such a plain truth. 

“It’s not,” Sokka insisted. “You couldn’t have known that this would happen. And you said your parents were supportive of your decision.” (Y/N) had hummed. She had said that, yes, and in a way she was right. Her father had given her a sack of so many coins that she was still far from having spent it all. She figured that had been his way of expressing that he approved of her leaving the tribe. 

“I know that I wanted to leave, but I still feel guilty. I feel like I owe it to them to be there.” 

“You deserve to be happy. You don’t owe anyone anything.” 

“I feel like I owe it to her, sometimes.” She looked up at the moon but Sokka remained silent at her side. “She was good, to everyone. She wasn’t moody and uncontrollable and the servants didn’t say bad things about her behind her back. Do you know what it’s like to live constantly comparing yourself to someone else?” Although it was a rhetorical question, Sokka answered. 

“Of course I do. I compare myself to people everyday. My dad, Katara, Aang, you.” 

“Me? Why me?” 

“Yeah, you’re moody and uncontrollable and kind of scary sometimes, but you’re passionate. You put all of yourself into the people around them and inspire them constantly with your strength.” He cleared his throat, looking away from her. “At least, that’s how I see it.” 

A smile taunted the edge of (Y/N’s) lips. “I don’t think you should compare yourself to me. You’re much braver and kindhearted than I’ll ever be.” 

“You’re both of those things, you just don’t let people see it all the time. I like to think that I was starting to, but...” He shrugged, giving her a bright smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“I know I haven’t been very nice to you,” She said quietly. “And I’m sorry. Sometimes it feels like it’s smarter to keep you at a distance.” 

“Why?” They stopped. They had reached the steps of their house. Lanterns were lit by the door and moths fluttered in their light. 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but realized that the explanation that could possibly come out of it was a declaration of affection. She smiled up at Sokka. “I’m sorry for not being a good friend. I’ll do better, I promise.” She ran up the steps of the house, trying to put some distance between them. “Are you hungry? I might make some soup before bed.” She rushed inside, her heart pounding against her chest.

---

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[ratedbangtann]

The Game ~ KNJ (18+)

↳ summary - “Behave yourself tonight, _____,” he warned. “I mean it. Too far, and I’ll be forced to act.” 

“Of course, dear. I’ll play fair, I promise,” you smiled, fluttering your perfectly permed eyelashes at him.

And with that, the game was on…  

↳ rating - explicit/18+

↳ word count - 8.3k

↳ pairing - namjoon x reader

↳ genre - established relationship, alternative universe, CEO Namjoon, angst, smut

↳ warnings - teasing (oh, so much…), flirting with others, angry Joon, rough Joon, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk (incl. name calling), unprotected sex, rough sex

↳ a.n - okay so yeah hi it's been nearly 5 months since i posted an au please don't hate me life has been ROUGH but here have this little gem that was commissioned by a lovely twitter follower of mine.If you'd like your own commission or to leave me a tip, head over to https://ko-fi.com/ratedbangtann (i just lost my job thanks to corona so anything helps, honestly) **************************************************

Your husband’s words echoed around inside your head, a strangely sadistic little grin on your face that only you knew the reasoning behind.

“Behave yourself tonight, _____.”

You had promised you would, but were you being entirely truthful? Absolutely not. On a night like tonight, how could you possibly not use your charms to get ahead? That was the foundation of your company, after all; the charms you had used on your husband and his clients to merge your small business with his much larger enterprise.

Of course, you hadn’t done this with malice, and you certainly hadn’t expected to fall in love with the CEO of the company you flirted your way into… Not until he called you out on your charm, made light of it, and explained that actually, he saw you as a very smart and beautiful woman with a drive that precluded any other potential businesses he was contemplating to taking on.

Four years of happy marriage later, you had become co-CEO of Kim Enterprises – a main hub for all things fashion and retail, with 32 different brand names coming under the Kim umbrella; including your very own line of gorgeous evening wear.

Tonight, yourself and your husband were holding a company event at a hotel, hiring out the ballroom to bring together the heads of each of these little companies you had dominion over in order to impress a handful of investors to buy shares in Kim products. This was your specialty, and you were certainly going to whip out your charm tonight.

However, in the back of the Bentley that had driven you and your partner to the ball, your husband was already way ahead of you…

*************************************************

He looked handsome, as always. His silver hair perfectly quaffed and styled with a side part, round-rim glasses poised on the end of his nose, sharp grey suit fitted perfectly to his wide shoulders and thick arms. His hand had been affectionately poised on your bare knee for the duration of the ride, the flesh of your right leg beautifully displayed through the slit in your evening dress – from your own company, of course.

Just five minutes away from your destination, you felt his grip tighten a little, and slide a little further up your thigh, enjoying the softness of your skin on the inside of your leg. He was staring down at his own hand, watching his thumb draw circles on your skin with a look of deep thought on his face.

“You look a little apprehensive, Joonie. Are you alright?” you had asked, concern laced in your tone with perhaps a little mischief. He hummed in response, not looking up at you and instead still very much intent on his thumb grazing your skin.

“You look so beautiful in that dress tonight, my love…” he smiled to himself, pride swelling in his chest that it was you he got to call his wife. “No doubt, you’ll turn some heads.”

You smirked; this was the start of laying down his rules… You knew it was coming. It sent thrills through you every time.

“Thank you, it’s from the Fall line. Taking it out on a test run, shall we say…” you smiled sweetly.

It really was a stunning dress; sleek and fitted pearlescent silk with a little fabric tapering in the waistline. The straps themselves were strings of pearls, thin over the shoulders and draping in loops down your chest, cleavage beautifully displayed with the low hanging stones and fabric. The pearl straps continued to drape over your back also, hanging lower than in the front in another loop. The fabric exposed your back to just where your back dipped in, the pearls hanging down over the top of your butt.

It was an extremely sleek and sexy gown, expertly tailored to hide potential flaws and accentuate perfections. And that’s why you picked it tonight.

“It’ll definitely be an advantage in your tactics tonight, I’m sure,” he smirked, his eyes finally darting up to meet yours. “I have mine too though, just so we’re clear.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you laughed quietly, shaking your head with a smile. “But the dress is not the only tactic I have up my sleeve, my love. You’ll see…”

His thumb stopped its rotations then, his grip tightening just a little more in response.

“Behave yourself tonight, _____,” he warned. “I mean it. Too far, and I’ll be forced to act.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll play fair, I promise,” you smiled, fluttering your perfectly permed eyelashes at him.

And with that, the game was on…

************************************************

You stood and laughed with the small group of investors that you had attracted into a corner of the ballroom. The dress and your charming reputation proceeded you and worked like a beautiful spider’s web, drawing in the most naïve of flies until they stuck – it was then that you could make your moves.

Three men were stood in front of you, all of them middle-aged, wealthy bachelors of sorts. Mr Song, CEO of a cosmetics company you were hoping you could persuade to come on board and partner with Kim Enterprises; Mr Kang, an investor who made his money buying and selling shares of companies throughout Korea, and Mr Garcia, a Korean-American entrepreneur looking to invest in more Korean companies to impress his elderly Korean mother, unhappy with his choices to continue his late father’s American legacy.

Frankly, it seemed like an easy sell. You knew you could get Mr Garcia to come around very easily; he was in a rush to invest, hoping to improve his foreign relations and his relationship with his dear mother.

Mr Song had shown an interest in selling part of his company to Kim Enterprises for years, but it had never felt like the right time to introduce a cosmetics line into your empire; Namjoon agreed. Focus on fashion, on the clothing and accessories retailers to begin with. When you had enough, cosmetics could be introduced. You’d kept Mr Song at arm’s length, dangling the carrot in front of the donkey for him to follow you; and he had, willingly.

But Mr Kang? He knew the market very well, he knew his investments, he was careful and very picky with what he chose to buy into. But when he did, he really invested; billions of won at a time, in fact. If you could just crack his outer shell, you were sure he would drop his guard a little, and you could sweet talk him around.

You had a few tactics of course that included, but were not limited to; laughing at their jokes with a coy giggle, fluttering your eyelashes a little, giving them side eye smiles, pushing your hip out and elongating your leg to show it off through the slit in your dress, touching their arms when you were talking directly to one of them, making little provocative jokes followed by a delicate wink and a sip of your champagne flute…

All these things combined? They worked incredibly well, as did the compliments you would slide in, directed at the men themselves or at their business endeavours. They seemed incredibly receptive to you, taken in by your beauty and your confidence as many men often were; including your husband, who had been eyeing you from the bar across the ballroom for a while.

He himself was focussed on his own investors; female, of course. But he wanted to watch you deal with yours first, he wanted to watch his competition – you – claim your prizes before he made any moves on the female investors he was hoping to win over. And of course, keeping to himself was always a viable option in these games you played at corporate events. It kept him mysterious and aloof, striking at opportune moments and asking these women for a dance, or if they would like to join him for a drink; if he kept to himself all night, then these women would feel particularly special. ‘Who, me? He wants me?’ they would think. All part of his plan.

But for some reason, tonight he was distracted. He couldn’t tell why, but his eyes were fixated on you even more so than usual. Perhaps it was the way Mr Garcia seemed to have taken an interest in you, standing a little closer than the others… he kept pushing his hair back too, trying to flip is off his forehead in that typical ‘movie heartthrob’ way, but honestly it was just laughable from where Namjoon was standing. Every time you touched his arm and laughed at his joke, he shuffled a little closer, and it was starting to bother Namjoon.

He wasn’t the one you should have to focus on… He was an easy catch, desperate to invest. So why were you paying so much attention to him? Namjoon didn’t understand… Unless you genuinely were enjoying flirting with the youngest of the three potential business partners. Oh, his blood boiled at the thought.

But what he didn’t know, was that you already had Mr Song hooked on your line. He was in, whether he’d verbalised it yet or not. Mr Kang, however, was a little more reserved, although he did enjoy your attention. You had quickly calculated though that he was someone who got what he wanted, and it infuriated him when he didn’t get it. He would do anything to get what he wanted… So, you paid extra attention to Mr Garcia, starving Mr Kang of your attention that he so clearly wanted.

Doing so made him work harder, would make him eventually think that it was his idea to invest in order to get your attention back on him. So far, it was working. He was trying to land more jokes, make you laugh at his one liners the way you laughed at Mr Garcia’s…

But Namjoon didn’t get your game, didn’t understand what you were doing. He saw you getting closer to Mr Garcia and it enraged him, immediately jumping to a wrong conclusion as men so often do.

Now, he wanted to strike. He was ready to start his game.

Leaning against the bar, he necked back the rest of the expensive scotch in his glass, slamming the glass to the bar and pushing off in search of a particular young lady he knew was a potential investor; So Soomin.

Soomin was an easy target; new money. She was a fashionista, a blogger mostly with a large Instagram following. Her profile skyrocketed when she began dating a famous idol, as did her net worth. And although that relationship came to a sticky end, it was the idol’s career that suffered, and not hers. Hers has only blossomed into modelling and investing. She was new on the scene, fresh and a perfect advertising opportunity, and investment opportunity also.

Namjoon had spotted her sat at a table on the edge of the dancefloor, in a stunning navy blue sequin gown. She was most certainly beautiful in reality also, just as her photos portrayed her. She was sat talking to an older woman, a woman Namjoon recognised from Kim Enterprises as a very loyal board member for the public relations department. She must be working her magic on Soomin too, seeing her as the perfect walking advertisement.

But Namjoon could work his magic too. He strode over to her, confidently stepping through those dancing on the dancefloor to make his entrance. As he stepped up to her table, her head turned to look at him immediately, and her face changed from relatively serious to a very sweet and flirtatious smile.

“Good evening, Ms So,” he bowed nice and low, respectfully greeting her. She dipped her head as he straightened back up. “Kim Namjoon, Kim Enterprises.”

“Ah, of course. Pleasure, Mr Kim,” she chirped, her eyes glittering under the dim lights of the room.

“I wondered if you would be interested in a dance?” Namjoon offered his hand, ignoring the look of ‘here we go again’ from his employee – of course everybody at Kim Enterprises was aware of the marriage between you two, and yet unaware of the games you played at events such as these that kept the fire of need burning hot within you both. They saw you as a pair who used their attractions to get what they wanted, but of course, they dare not speak up.

“That sounds lovely, if you’ll excuse me Mrs Cheong,” she bowed her head to the woman and took Namjoon’s hand, stepping ahead of him to pull him onto the dancefloor in a display of confidence.

It caught your eye; specifically, the sparkle of her dress caught your eye. Clearly, a woman who liked to make a statement. And behind her was… your husband? Smirking and quite clearly checking her out.

Now, it’s fair to note that in your entire relationship with Kim Namjoon, neither of you had ever been unfaithful, and neither of you had ever planned to. There were of course limits, and plenty of trust. This game that you played with each other was to keep that fire lit; and boy, was it raging right now.

Namjoon carefully took Soomin’s hand with one of his, placing his other on her waist, and began to sway to the smooth jazz being played by the hired band. He smiled down at the beautiful woman, and from what you could see, he was enjoying a flirty conversation with her.

She would giggle and hide her face behind her hair a few times, Namjoon tucking it back behind her ear. He would smirk and arch his eyebrows suggestively. But the moment that made you snap? He leaned down and whispered something into the woman’s ear, to which her eyes widened momentarily, and she was grinning and laughing again.

Your boiling point had been reached. The game had now stepped up.

“Hm, you know what?” You started, interrupting Mr Garcia’s little conversation with Mr Kang, bringing the attention of all three men back to you. You quickly necked the rest of your champagne and smiled up at Mr Garcia. “I want to dance.”

“If you don’t mind, Mr Garcia, I would like to take this one?” Mr Kang piped up, seemingly out of nowhere. You looked at him, a little shocked, but smiled and took his open hand that he had offered you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn,” you turned back to look at Mr Garcia, winking in his direction before allowing Mr Kang to direct you to the dancefloor. As the oldest of the three men you were working so easily this evening, he was most definitely the most chivalrous. He guided you like a gentleman, stepped aside to let you step onto the dancefloor first, gracefully placed his hand high enough on your waist to be respectful, the other in your hand and much like the other duos scattered around, you began to sway to the music. You remained in pleasant silence, dancing with the older man for a few minutes.

“You know, I’m aware of what you’re up to, Mrs Kim,” he smirked, averting his gaze to be interested in something in a far corner.

“Up to?” you asked, remaining calm and collected as if you had absolutely no idea what he was accusing you of.

“Yes, it’s quite clear to me. It’s quite amusing, honestly. I appreciate that you use your strengths to your advantage in business. You most definitely had me for a while, I was definitely very willing to invest for your attention. But you gave yourself away,” he looked back down at you, clear amusement on his slightly aged features.

“How so?” you asked, dropping the innocence and yet remaining charming.

“I saw your face falter when you spotted your husband over there, dancing with the pretty young woman in the blue dress. And now suddenly, you wish to dance? I ask myself, why on earth would you not simply walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder to take her place? Why would you ask Mr Garcia to dance?” Ah, busted�� “This is some kind of game to you, isn’t it? Between you and your husband, I mean.”

You were lost for words; no one had caught on before, but the slip in your persona had been noticed. Damn.

“Tell you what,” he began to proposition, “if you can win this little battle with him tonight, make him jealous enough that he is the one to step to you, then I’ll invest heavily into Kim Enterprises. That’s a promise,” he grinned. And suddenly, the gleam in your eye was back.

“You want in on this, huh?” you laughed, stepping just a little closer to him.

“As long as I don’t get a fist in the face, I’m happy to help you win your game Mrs Kim,” he smirked, his hand slowly starting to sink a little lower, resting on your hip.

“We have a deal, Mr Kang. But just so you are completely aware, I am completely loyal to my husband. I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand at all; this is just good sport. Just flirting,” you outlined with a playfully warning tone.

“Absolutely. I’m not interested in separating a marriage. I won’t try to kiss you or woo you in any way. Just good sport,” he mirrored. And now, you had stepped up to Namjoon’s level, with another key player involved.

Across the dancefloor, Namjoon was happily chatting, happily flirting with Soomin. They were discussing business amongst general chit chat, flirting happily and dancing away, when Namjoon caught a familiar figure in the corner of his eye; you.

He turned strategically in his dancing with Soomin to get a better look and low and behold, there you were just a few metres away from him, on the dancefloor with Mr Kang and looking… rather cosy, shall we say.

He didn’t like how low his hand was on your waist, on those curves of yours that he adored so much. He didn’t like that your hand wasn’t on his shoulder or his arm, but snugly half tucked into the inside of his tuxedo jacket, lying flat on his chest. He didn’t like the mesmerised looked you seemed to have in your eyes as you gazed up at him. And he most certainly didn’t like the smirk of arrogance on his face either…

Namjoon was only partly listening to Soomin talking about the timeline of her modelling career, eyes intently focussed on watching you dance with Mr Kang seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was metres away with another woman in his arms. It was like you were lost in the arms of the silver fox of the business world, and it infuriated him.

He noticed the grip on your hip tightening a little as you giggled at whatever poorly constructed joke he must have been telling you. He watched as you lifted your hand from his chest and tapped the end of his nose playfully with a perfectly manicured finger.

It was the tiny little details that were starting to make his eyebrow twitch and his tongue press against the inside of his cheek.

He watched for what felt like hours but could only have been a maximum of twenty minutes, the music changing pace and flowing from one theme to the next three themes, but it was all background noise to him. Until Soomin’s narcissistic bubble finally popped, and she noticed the attention was no longer on her.

“Is everything alright, Mr Kim?” she asked, tapping his shoulder and watching his pupils adjust as he focussed back in on her.

“Hmm? Yes, fine. Apologies, you were saying?” he brushed it off as nothing, managing to convince her enough to start babbling on yet again about herself. But when Namjoon looked up to keep tabs on you, you were nowhere to be found on the dancefloor.

His head whipped around, panicked with anger bubbling in his chest. Where the hell had you gone? Where had he taken you?

A quick scan of the ballroom found you, sat at a lone table in the corner, Mr Kang closely sat beside you. He leaned forward and whispered something in your ear, and Namjoon watched as you swatted his shoulder with a playful giggle, your hand dropping to rest on his knee which had found its way between yours, the slit in your dress exposing your beautiful thigh.

No, this was too far. He had warned you before, and you had promised to play fair, but this wasn’t fair at all… If he had to watch that man touch your knee, your thigh… He couldn’t bear it. His jealousy, his ownership of the woman he loved had ignited his primal self, and he needed to come and claim you again, to show you and everyone else that you were his.

Without so much as a glance down at Soomin, Namjoon dropped his hands from her and began marching towards you sat at the table with Mr Kang.

“N-Namjoon?” she called after him, confused and annoyed that she had been cut off mid-sentence. But again, he paid no mind, intent and focussed on getting between you and the man with his hand on your bare fucking thigh.

At the table, Mr Kang was the first to spot Namjoon, quickly approaching with a face like thunder. His eyes widened momentarily, before settling back on you, a smirk on his features.

“Congratulations,” he mumbled to you smugly just as you heard the stomp of Namjoon’s loafers getting closer to your chair. Your head snapped up to look at him, and there he was – and oh, did he look pissed. You were half expecting steam to be shooting out of his nose and ears.

“Ah, Namjoon! I wondered where you had been all evening. This is Mr Kang. I’m sure you’re aware of his stellar reputation in investmen-“

“May I speak with you privately?” Namjoon interrupted, popping his tongue into the inside of cheek, eyes darkening.

“Is something the matter?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to one side. Namjoon’s eyes darted down to the hand still comfortably laid on you, although now it had shrunk back to just rest on your knee. Your eyes followed his, looking up at Mr Kang briefly – who was smiling sweetly as if nothing were the matter – and then back to Namjoon.

“There’s an opportunity that has come up, I need to discuss with you immediately. It’s quite time sensitive. Mr Kang, if you’ll excuse me, my wife and I need to have a private discussion,” he barked, like a guard dog defending its prey from another equally hungry canine. Then without hesitation, Namjoon took your hand in his with assertive dominance and guided you out of the large double doors to the ballroom.

As you were navigated through the tables you turned back to see Mr Kang smiling and waving at you, giving you a thumbs up. He knew you had won the game. He was going to invest. Perfect.

But now to deal with Namjoon.

Your husband was dragging you now, out of the view of the investors and business partners and alone together in the hotel corridor. You let him take you, thrills already building and anticipation heightening. At the end of the corridor you noticed a lattice shutter and an open silver chamber behind it; a service elevator. Was that where Namjoon was headed?

Apparently so. Without letting go of your arm he pulled the metal lattice gate open and practically threw you in, stepping in himself and slamming it shut behind him, pressing the button to the left hand side marked ‘8’ and there he stood, silent and motionless as the elevator kicked to life.

With his back to you and his hands clasped behind him, you were suddenly very aware of the anger in his demeanour, the dominance in his posture. He stood unmoving, not bothering to look back at you once, not saying a single word as you steadied yourself and hung onto the railing along the back wall. The silence seemed deafening, louder than the chatter and the music that you had experienced throughout the night.

The ride up to the eighth floor seemed agonisingly slow, every silent second dragging. You knew Namjoon had booked a room in the hotel for that evening so you wouldn’t need to go home after the event, so assumed that must be where he was taking you.

The elevator ground to a halt and Namjoon ripped open the lattice gate, letting it slam against the edge before turning and gripping your wrist again, pulling you and pushing you until you were both on the opposite side of the threshold and he could slam the gate shut once again. And then he began walking, leaving you stood in shock that he wasn’t dragging you this time, just expecting you to follow suit.

You folded your arms across your chest for a second and waited, wondering if he would turn and tell you to follow him, or come back to grab your arm but he did neither, simply stomping his way down the long hall with white walls and gold trimmings, luxurious red rug rolled out with gold detailing. Beside each room’s door was a small mahogany table with a white and gold marble vase, fake red arrangements inside. Fancy, but you’d expect nothing less from a hotel of this calibre.

You realised quickly Namjoon wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t wait for you, and with a huff of annoyance you unfolded your arms and followed behind him, the pearls on your dress rattling as they hit each other in the quiet of the corridor. Three doors from the end of the corridor, he stopped and turned to room 804, slipping a key card out of the inside of his jacket and into the slot as you approached him. He disappeared from view, entering the room and almost letting it shut behind him, if you hadn’t been quick enough to stop it with your healed foot.

“You know, Mr Kang is really a very nice man…” you began to speak as if nothing was wrong, entering the room and closing the door behind you, flipping the lock. But before you could continue, your shoulders were being pulled to spin you around, and pushed back against the door.

Namjoon loomed over you, his eyes dark and angry, arms either side of your head now, trapping you.

“Is he, now? Is that why you looked so cosy with him on the dancefloor, hm?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, his head tilting in mock query.

“Just as much as you and that man-eating model? Don’t try and take the high road, Namjoon,” you defended with a smirk. “We both know the game we play, for good sport…” You leaned in, lifting your lips to his ear in order to whisper to him…

“And I think I won…”

Namjoon closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw locking and teeth grinding, a deep breath quickly exhaling through flared nostrils. He hated losing. He hated it so much. But admitting he had lost was even worse.

He said nothing, but instead you felt two strong hands on the tops of your arms, gripping them and pulling you from the door, dragging you further into the room before he could push you down onto the couch of the open hotel suite. You didn’t have time to admire the royal blue upholstery and French renaissance style before he was slotting his knee between yours and towering over you. You let your back sink into the back of the couch, sat upright with your thighs parted by his.

He ran his fingers through your hair, letting the fingertips gently glide down your jawline and eventually grip your chin with a hold that you couldn’t wriggle from.

“You went too far, ______. I warned you…” His voice was significantly darker than usual; deeper and more threatening than most would have heard from him.

“I was simply trying to get us an investment, Mr Kim. But I think your pathetic little display of dominance may just have ruined that,” you argued, although of course it wasn’t true. You only wanted to rile him up further, to aggravate him into giving you frankly what you can only describe as a good, hard fucking. It was working, too. You saw his eye twitch.

“You just don’t know when to stay quiet, do you?” he scoffed. You simply looked down at his lips and back up to him, as if you say “oh, yeah? Try me.” He didn’t like that.

So instead, he swooped his head down to plant a ferocious and bruising kiss to your lips, his hand coming to push the back of your head into him further. He wasted no time in parting your lips, messily exploring and taking ownership in the way he had wanted to all damn evening. His fingers curled into your hair, short nails lightly dragging at your scalp and adding to all the sensations you felt all over your body.

Namjoon was always so skilled with his kisses, having you succumb to him very quickly like a warlock casting a spell. You felt yourself move to his every whim, sinking further and further. It was when you moaned into his kiss that he knew he had you under his thumb.

He let go of you and moved to stand, seemingly in a rush to get some kind of payback or comeuppance for the way you had teased him tonight. He shook his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders and unfastened the zipper – and just the zipper – of his slacks, reaching in to pull his half-hard length through the opening in his underwear and the hole in his trousers, slowly tugging at it a few times to full arousal.

In this position, with him stood with one leg between your thighs and you sat directly in front of him, you were at the perfect height for what he wanted from you… He squeezed himself each time he came close to his tip, allowing for a small bead of pre-cum to gather. He pushed his hips out until all you could focus on was the sight of his delicious pre-cum.

“For you, Madam,” he smirked when your eyes met, his hand reaching out to run his finger under the length of the straps of your dress and gripping the strings of pearls that gathered in front of your breasts like reins, “seeing as you like pearls so much.”

And then he pressed the little pearl of precum to your lips, coating them like a gloss before pushing the tip of his cock past them and sitting it on the flat of your tongue.

“Let’s see you talk shit with a mouthful,” he smirked, fingers weaving into your hair once again and gripping tight, pulling at the roots to move your head and have you begin to bob on his length, encasing the impressive size in the warmth of your mouth and throat. You gladly took it; you could never deny your man since the first head you had ever given him. He’d practically declared his love to you for the entire twenty minutes whilst you showed him what a blow job was supposed to feel like.

You just had a thing for making your husband feel exceptionally good.

“Fuck, see? You can be a good girl,” he praised, grunting and beginning to piston his hips back and forth whilst still moving your head. “Just needed putting back in your place again.”

The chords of pearls on your dress rattled as they rocked with your body, hitting each other noisily with each forward and back motion. You relaxed your throat easily to take him, although with his girth and length combined it was always a snug fit. You could feel each ridge of the vein on the side of his shaft, the drag of his uncut foreskin on your tongue. It wasn’t common for a Korean man to remain uncircumcised, but it was never something that bothered you. In fact, it seemed to only encourage some more imaginative ways to please him.

But there was no time for intricate details, no space for you to move your tongue and focus on the spots that made him weak when he was moving at such a pace and filling your mouth and throat over and over again. You could do nothing but bob your head the way he was moving it and flutter your eyelashes innocently up at him with a sparkle behind them. It drove him crazy, to see you so pliant and taking him so well. He loved the way your lips wrapped around him, how you took the opportunity to try and hollow your cheeks to vary the pressure you put on him. All of it was so perfect…

“Fucking shit, ______,” Namjoon groaned, his head falling back and his eyes closing in bliss. You hummed against him, sending vibrations through his length and you were sure you could feel the vein pulse harder as his thighs tensed in his slacks. Knowing what you were doing to him, the pleasure you were giving him right now… well, it was turning you on considerably. If he were to peel back the rather beautiful ivory lingerie you had decided on, then he would be all too aware of the arousal this was causing.

“You wanted this, huh?” he asked, gritting his teeth and tightening his grip in your hair. “That’s why you’ve been acting up. My little cock slut was just desperate to get fucked huh, is that it?” His hips increased in speed and power. You were no longer moving, simply kept still by his hold as you tried to keep from gagging. You were good at this, at letting him use your throat like a fleshlight. You’d had plenty of practise after all.

All you could do was hum in affirmation, sending another wave of vibrations along his shaft. A rumbling groan erupted from his throat and he bit his lip, pulling his cock out of your throat completely. You gasped for breath, now able to take in more through your mouth for longer.

“You want my cock that badly, hm? In here?” he reached between your legs with his free hand, using the slit in your dress to his advantage and placing his palm flat over your damp panties. You whimpered a little at the contact, flinching but never daring to look away. Without having to think your head nodded on autopilot, desperate for him to give you what you wanted.

He smirked and stood back, lifting you by gently tugging at your hair to stand. He spun you around, easily finding the zipper on the low back of the dress and unzipping it, letting the straps of pearls fall down your arms and the dress come clattering to the floor with a loud rattle. A beat of silence passed in which you weren’t sure what he was doing, but you weren’t quite brave enough to turn your head to see, let alone ask him.

But had you seen him, you would have noticed the way his eyes were scanning every single beautiful curve of your body, every inch of smooth skin right down to his favourite part of you; that incredible round ass of yours. And in the lingerie you wore for him? Oh, it was beautiful. The ivory tones complimented your skin tone in the most marvellous way, and Namjoon couldn’t help himself from salivating at the sight.

He snapped himself out of his trance quickly though, manoeuvring you to kneel on the couch and bend over the fancy upholstery arm. Before you were really even comfortable, your panties were being tugged down and falling to your knees and a swift and harsh spank landing on your ass. Joon always loved watching that little jiggle…

Behind you, you heard fumbling, the rustling of Namjoon’s shirt being untucked from his pants, his tie being undone, and his buttons being popped open. But the fabric never hit the floor, and his pants remained unaltered.

Waiting was driving you crazy, so to taunt him even more you leaned down fully on the arm of the couch and wiggled your bare behind up in the air.

“Impatient little girl, hm? Don’t worry, you’ll be full in no time,” he growled, positioning himself with one knee up on the couch and pulling on your hips to line himself up with your dripping core.

He dragged the tip through your folds a few times before he pushed in, agonisingly slowly but at least you were finally getting some attention. When buried completely to the hilt, his hips pressed firmly against your ass and his grip on the flesh of your hips tightened, fingertips digging in as he adjusted to your warmth and the pleasure it brought him.

Even after four years of marriage – six since you had begun your office romance – he still revelled in the way you felt around him, still marvelled at how stunning you looked from every angle. He’d never tire of you, completely intoxicated and hooked; and this explained exactly why he was so possessive of you. No other man could have you; you were his.

Now that you finally felt full, your eyes fluttered closed and enjoyed the feeling. By now, you were used to his size and the way it filled you, but it didn’t mean it brought you any less pleasure than that first night you spent together. Your jaw dropped as he dragged himself back out of you, a high pitched moan spilling from your throat. His hands tightened on your hips, digging into the flesh as he used it as leverage to slam back into you harshly, jolting you forward and pushing a cry from your lips.

“Is that better, baby? This what you wanted?” he grunted, his hips now snapping against yours rhythmically. “You wanted my attention, hm? You got it, Babygirl…”

The force he used against you was intense, the slapping sounds deafening despite him never even removing his trousers – he knew you liked it when he was still at least partially dressed in his suits. It somehow upheld his aura of dominance, of power and leadership.

You couldn’t help but moan with each thrust, his length hitting every wall inside you, every sensitive nerve sending pulses of extreme pleasure through your pelvis and spanning out like lightning bolts through the rest of your body. You’d wanted this all night, been doing everything in your power to rile him up and get him to this point. This was the whole point of the game, and whilst he wouldn’t admit it just yet, you knew you had won.

“F-fuck… Namjoon…” you groaned, the upholstery on the couch brushing against your breasts. Hearing you groan his name ignited a fresh fire fuelled by lust in his gut, his hips changing their angle to hit you more directly against that spot inside you that sent you crazy. He pounded into you with an unforgiving speed, over and over and over again until he decided he was bored of that angle, that position. He wanted your full attention just as much as you wanted his.

So without warning, he pulled out of you and sat back against the opposite arm of the couch. You whined in disappointment, turning your head to see him watching you with his arm draped over the back of the couch, his other hand stroking himself slowly, and his lips pulled into an infuriating smirk.

“Come and get it, Babygirl,” he taunted, and rather than fight him on it you did as told, too worked up to deny yourself. You kicked your heels to the floor and pulled the panties draped around your knees off whilst Namjoon shuffled and laid down flat on the couch. The shirt he was wearing spilled open, exposing his well-toned chest and abs to you. You wasted no time, straddling his hips and positioning yourself to take him again, to let him stretch you out so perfectly like before.

Only this time, you were in control, and he didn’t seem to mind that – wanted it, even. Some of his favourite positions included ones in which you were the one moving, using his cock to make yourself feel good. He’d get lost in watching you, the way every part of your body moved, the way your eyes shut, and mouth fell open. And already, he was hypnotised by the way you rolled your hips against him, trying to move as fast as possible and as fluidly as possible to make sure he hit every nerve ending.

Your hands fell flat onto his pecks – those glorious, solid pecks – to keep yourself from collapsing forward, overwhelmed by pleasure. He reached up to your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands bouncing with every movement. He growled like an animal, sitting up and latching himself to one of your nipples, tongue flicking and teeth nipping at the sensitive nub. He continued to growl deep in his throat like a man possessed, his own length throbbing and pulsating inside you.

“J-Joonie… Mm, feels so good…” you practically sang, threading your hands through his hair and messing it up in an instant, holding him against you. You bucked your hips against him as fast as you could, clenching your walls on purpose to make him lose his mind. He did just that, letting go of your breast and falling back against the couch, his hands over his face and a long, wanton moan rumbling from his chest.

You kept clenching around him every time his cock would slide out of you, creating a drag that was absolutely mind blowing and has him sucking air through his teeth every time.

Suddenly his hands slapped down onto your thighs, fingertips digging in and his feet planting themselves flat on the couch behind you for leverage as he bucked his hips up into you. He furiously pounded into you from below, losing his composure. Your head dipped forward and all your weight went into your wrists, still holding you up by your hands flat on his pecks. He gripped your arms then, grunting with rapid breaths from exertion.

“Hey… Hey, ______,” he snapped his fingers in front of your face a few times to get your attention, “Eyes on me, Babygirl. Understand?”

“Uh… uh-huh,” was all you could muster with the force of every thrust and the roll of your hips in time with them. You could only hold eye contact for a moment or two until one particularly perfect thrust and then your head fell forward again. Namjoon didn’t like that, his hand coming to reach for your chin to hold your head up, forcing eye contact between you.

“Naughty girl… can’t follow basic commands,” he grunted, his fingers tightening on your chin and pushing on your cheeks. “I said, eyes… on… me,” he punctuated each word with a thrust, having you biting down on your lip and digging your nails into his pecks. You could only stare into his eyes as the both of you moved in sync. His were dark, so clouded with lust and hooded with passion that the heat in your abdomen started to swell impossibly.

Somehow, he kept up his pace. His thighs – however thick and muscled – must surely have been burning with his movements as yours were. His abs must have been screaming at him to slow down, but he didn’t, not even for a second. And now, he had slipped a hand down between your legs to circle your clit, adding yet another rush of heat.

You could feel yourself growing wetter, a sure sign of an impending orgasm. Namjoon clearly felt it too, judging by the way he looked down at the two of you connected and muttered out a ‘oh fuck…’ followed by a sharp intake of breath. He was starting to show tell-tale signs of his own climax approaching; he’d sucked his cheeks in in that way that made him look pissed off, but in fact was him simply tensing his jaw. His biceps were tensing under the sleeves of his open shirt and you could feel the pecks underneath your hands tensing also.

And my god, were you close too…

“G-gonna cum, please… please let me cum,” you begged between pouted lips forced together by his hand clutching your jaw. With or without his permission it was all about to unfold so quickly you couldn’t hold it off.

“Cum Babygirl, cum with me. Want you to feel the way I fill you up…” With his permission, letting go was easy. You squealed and whimpered as your nerves set alight, the heat spreading and igniting, filling your veins like hot lava. Your pussy clenched over and over, pulsing around his length and sending him further into his own ending, not quite there but so, so very close.

He let go of your chin, letting you break eye contact and fall forward onto his chest. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, still lifting his hips up to ride you through it and get himself off. He held you tight against him, whispering how good you felt in your ear, how perfect you were, how much he’d wanted you all night, that you were his and his alone.

Slowly, the heat dissipated, the fire cooling and leaving you light-headed and breathless, and Joon just kept on going, desperate for his own orgasm. You did your best to help him along, mustering all your energy to purposefully clench around him. Tilting your chin up, you were able to bury your face in the crook of his neck and nuzzle into the skin just under his shirt collar, kissing him just where his mole was. You nibbled and sucked and mouthed at the skin, feeling the tendons in his neck tensing.

And then he was groaning out loud, letting go completely. His hips stuttered and jerked unevenly, and you could feel pulse after pulse along his shaft. A new heat filled your pelvis; his seed spilling inside you, painting your walls white and creating a lude noise as he came to a halt.

His legs fell back down onto the couch whilst his arms loosened their grip on you, but still cradled you close to him; no way would he want to let you go right now.

“Fuck, babe… Fuck,” he sighed. It took a few moments for you to lift your head to see the blissed-out look on his face, eyes shut and sweat dripping from the ends of his messed up hair. You laid together like that for a while, catching your breath and enjoying the high you both felt.

“Hey Joonie…” you whispered, giggling when he opened one eye to look down at you. “Gotcha.”

He sat up a little then, resting back on his elbows as you sat upright, still straddling him. You had to clench a little extra hard to stop from leaking his own cum back onto his lap… You wouldn’t want to ruin such an expensive suit.

“What do you mean, gotcha?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“The game. I won,” you grinned, reaching out to fix his hair sticking up in strange directions.

“B-but… I got you to come with me, I must have made you jeal-“ You pressed your finger to his lips.

“Who felt so threatened by Mr Kang that he just had to intervene, thus, already losing at his own game?” you smirked. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Well be fair, he was getting very cosy, and you weren’t stopping him…” he complained.

“Sure, but um… Mr Kang was in on it.” You got off him then, standing up to head to the en-suite bathroom to freshen up, but he caught your wrist.

“He was what?” he asked, confused and irritated. You turned to face him again and leaned over him.

“In. On. It,” you sounded out slowly. “If I could get you to break, if I could win, he promised to invest heavily.” The smarminess was laced in your voice. You knew you had won. You got everything you wanted tonight; investment, and a decent, hard, jealousy fuelled fuck with your husband.

Namjoon’s jaw dropped, his grip falling from your wrist as he sat back against the couch with a heavy thump. He shook his head in disbelief, a smile forming as he watched you walk away and into the bathroom. But you popped your head out of the doorway, catching his attention again.

“Oh, and uh… as you were dragging me out, he gave me the thumbs up. Mr Kang will definitely be investing in Kim Enterprises,” you winked.

“Oh you, little…” he couldn’t hide his happiness at the investment, a grin spreading across his face. He didn’t mind that he’d been beat, not when such a huge business transaction was about to unfold. He didn’t even mind that he’d been played; not by you at least. Not by his incredibly gorgeous, sexy and genius wife.

“You…” he stood up, jogging towards you and shedding his shirt to the floor, “are impossible,” he laughed, chasing you into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him. Your night was only just beginning.

You had definitely won this game.

[archetypal-archivist]

Hermitcraft-What is Glass but Crystal Light?

There is a woman, sleeping in the heart of an eldritch being beyond mortal ken. There is a man, strapped into a chair, watched over by worried friends as his mind flies across the cosmos- looking for someone. There is a ship that sails the rivers of light that flow through the outer reaches of the void. And long ago, there were two boys who were nearly consumed by a star that should have stayed dead.

This is their story, split into ten parts, each inspired by a song and each part written within the song's duration. May they receive their happy ending yet.

Also known as, I took on a drabble writing challenge and came out with 1500+ words of Sad Grian the Space Sailor content. Links to the songs will be at the bottom. 

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The boat rocked through the waves, glowing light washing against its hull as nebulas and galaxies spun by. Grian stretched out his hand, letting the solar winds trail over and through his fingers, giving his skin a pale, silver glow. To Mumbo, standing stock still- near invisible in the light of the void, purple and dark and impossible to describe- Grian looked ethereal. Impossible. Like light in the void, like a man made of nothing, stretching out beyond his galaxy to see a glimpse of his lover across the cosmos... Was he talking of himself or of Grian? Best not to think about it. (Best not to think.) He was too boring for the brunet, he knew, but even if his redstone skills lacked the ability to hold his love’s attention, not like the starry seas could, it at least gave him this. Back at home, his body lay strapped into a cold metal chair and electrodes and wires poked harshly against his temples. Iskall watched helplessly as his friend’s eyes flickered behind his closed lids. Alas, if only his friend could see the heart that stood before him, wishing for a spark of that brilliant mind to be turned his way. (Sailor Song by Autoheart)

The seas were cold comfort, although few could tell. Grian knew that better than most. Mumbo was precious, truly, but he was better off without him. The seas had claimed him, marked him when they were younger, back when it was just him and the sea and the drowning feelings inflicted upon them both by a man too much like a black hole to be survived. He and the sea had come out changed, something less than human, in the case of his friend, and a bit less than whole for him. Mumbo really did deserve a whole person, not just a shell of one. But still, even if his heart had been eaten by the void, despite the sea’s best efforts, he could leave Mumbo this- a kiss, pressed to a sleeping temple, a key on the table, and a bottle of dreams. All he had left of his heart, all that he could give. (This is Not Goodbye by Sidewalk Prophets)

Taurtis was not always the sea. He was not always light. But always, as before and as always and as he always will be, he was not enough. Grian blamed him, he knew this too. He had come out of the mess of Sam and his pull just as broken as his best friend, but somehow Grian always spoke as if he had come out the poorer of the two of them. As if losing his physical form and his very name, his very identity, was somehow less of a burden than simply losing a heart. Perhaps that was why Grian was so cruel to him now, insisting that having Taurtis wasn’t enough these days. Perhaps losing a heart really was a burden. But compared to a body, to a soul set loose among the cosmos to join the solar seas and the stardust whipped up by the waves? Having to learn the art of surrender in all its brutal perfection? No, Taurtis had it worse by far. But even if he had lost his body, even if Grian blamed him for not protecting them both, even if he wasn’t enough (had internalized the blame, just a bit). Well. At least they’ll be together forever now. He would learn to be enough, maybe. Given time. Time enough in all the world. (Neptune by Sleeping at Last)

The void was not dark. The void was not silent. Beings roamed its reaches, things of light, borders and physics and string theory made flesh. The voids were treacherous, and those who sailed the cosmic seas knew its dangers well. There were things that lurked in the void’s fractalling, mind-hazing fog, in the light that was anything but. Things that ate men alive, bundled them up in contradictions and questions until their who unraveled from their what, until their atoms pulled apart at the seams. But the most eldritch of things in the void was hope. The most dangerous by far, it’s light cast out across the void, glimmered upon the waves and luring in the foolhardy and the desperate into its reach. And yet, it never struck. Never consumed, not as the other monsters of the void did. It didn’t need to. Any who caught glimpse of its might would throw themselves into its mass whole-heartedly. And yet. And yet. Not all who lost themselves to hope were devoured. Deep in its heart, there sleeps a woman. Her name is Stress, because that is what she is. And the heart of the hope at the center of the void is always breaking, because that woman, that Stress in the fabric of reality? She is trying to break free. And someday, she will succeed. And all will be torn bloody and new again. The seas know it. The absent skies know it. Taurtis knows it, in his piecemeal state. And oh, how hope pulls at him for the knowing. Best to leave his Grian in the dark. { Voidfish (Plural) by Rachel Rose Mitchell}

Vintage Beef knew better than to sell to traders and pirates like the man before him. Anyone who looked like they stepped out of a children’s picture book weren’t likely to be able to pay. Pirates belonged in a by-gone age, even ones that stank of light more than anyone he had ever met. But the man before him, edged in salt-spray golden glow, seemed so lost. So desperate. What was a drink, in the face of that? So he served the man a drink and a side of cow, as a treat to keep the man from hopefully getting too sloshed. No luck. And soon, the story came pouring out, a story of a pair of boys and a man who shone like stars, who blinded them with his light and sucked the life from their bones like marrow. A black hole in all but name. The fork in his hand clicked against the man’s teeth as he choked out the words, hands shaking. A childhood gone wrong. Beef just nodded, wondering, lost in the face of such loss. He could understand that, perhaps. But what was his own lost prospects, lost to his bar and his job, in the face of a lost life? He just hoped the man didn’t end up like all other men in story books. Stories ended. And, as the man stumbled out of the bar, starshine glittering around him like grief, he seemed as if he was rushing into his epilogue. Best wishes, Beef spared him a thought. He would need them. (Golden Leaves by Passenger)

Joe loved the sea, for all that he could not bear to touch it. As an ender hybrid, a bit like that prince in the far tower, its waters would burn him to the quick. And he loved the man he caught glimpses of when he stared out across the waves even more. The man had no name, not that he knew of anyway. Though, it’s not like he could ask, locked in his tower as he was. Part of the job description of a poet, of course. Call it an occupational hazard, just like falling for impossibly distant figures straight out of myth or legend and feeling your consciousness splinter across the cosmos to bring you inspiration in your dreams. (Sleep… hurt. He tried not to think about it.) But yes. The man on the edge of the sea, who rode the waves like he was made to. Perhaps he would write a story about him… (Venus by Sleeping at Last)

Grian knew that things were coming to a head. The sea beneath his boat was insisting that it was not actually the sea. Again. He must be going mad, too, losing his mind just like he lost his heart to that awful void-beast monster from so long ago. But somehow, it felt right, to listen to the sea. To lean over the prow and let his fingers trail through its liquid light waters, let the starshine climb up his veins and ooze through his pores, through his system. It was dangerous, yes, but when he cried tears that glowed like joy, it felt good. Cathartic. Like a piece of his was returning to him. He could never get his heart back, and even if he could, he’d turn right around and hand it to Mumbo. But maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. (It’s Alright by Mother Mother)

Taurtis knew the end was coming. And he was okay with it- longed for it even. He had a heart, unlike his friend. But where he was going, the woman who he had set that feeble organ on, he didn’t need it. Ha. This was why Grian really was stupid, as much as he was his best friend. As if you needed a physical heart to love someone. Deep in the heart of hope lived the most beautiful of women in existence, and she would wake soon. And her emergence would kill him in all the ways that didn’t matter. So in the face of that, why not give his best friend one last gift? A steady trail of heart’s blood was perhaps not quite equal to a heart, but for Grian- so caught up on the physicality of the world, the goof- it would do well enough. And perhaps, with this, he would stop moping. Heroes got their happy endings at the end of time, right? (Never Seen Anything “Quite Like You” by The Script)

Bloody hell. What a way to wake up. Stress stared out across the broken remains of a world blown apart by her emergence. How awful it was that her chance at life was paid at the price of a hundred thousand lives. Tears ran down her face. She did not want this. But soon, a man came to her, or a figment of one perhaps. A breath of comfort on the wind, blacker than pitch, black enough that pulled light from the void itself. It wrapped itself around her, kissing away her tears. Clothing her in mother of pearl- fitting, for she knew she was destined to bear forth a new heart of hope. She did not want this, but the affection was appreciated all the same. It would be the only kind touch she would receive in a while, the work would take up most of her free time for the next millennia at least. The void-black ghost introduced himself as Taurtis, at her service, to help her in her task. It was more freeing than service to his best friend, he explained. A service chosen, not owed or forced or bound. And besides, he whispered shyly. He loved her. And perhaps, as Stress turned her eyes to the newborn universe beyond, she could learn to love him too. (cover of On the Arrow by AFI, sung by Rachell Rose Mitchell)

In the distant black, a goddess bore forth a new universe, her shadow of a lover at her side. In the light of the sea, a ship capsized as the waters underneath shuddered and bucked, for the spirit that ensured the ship’s safety was dead. And the man aboard it did not drown. To his amazement, of course. He really had expected to die. But then, hearts full up of love are perhaps the lightest things around and instead of sinking, Grian floated. And when he saw he could do that, joy filled his heart, buoying him higher, and he swam. He had his true love to return to. And when he returned, soggy and beaming, he saw just what lengths his Mumbo had gone to watch him and he freed him from his prison of redstone and wire to kiss him awake. He laughed, giddy, despite Mumbo’s groggy confusion. They were free! Free of longing, of hoping, of heartlessness and cold metal substitutes for love. They could be together! Mumbo just blinked, once, twice, before breaking out into a bright peal of jingling laughter. They were free! He tried to pick up Grian to swing him into a kiss, but his long vigil in his machine left him loose-limbed and weak. Grian kissed him anyway. (Time to Run by Lord Huron)

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 (Sailor Song) (This is Not Goodbye) (Neptune) (Voidfish Plural)  (Golden Leaves) (Venus) (It's Alright)  (Never Seen Anything "Quite Like You")  (On the Arrow)  (Time to Run)