#hostess reader

[mullermilkshake]

Being a hostess.

He just keeps asking. Someone's eager.

Kiyotaka Ijichi x Hostess!reader x Suguru Geto References to past psychological abuse,Manipulation,Coercion,Alcohol,Your ex husband is drop dead gorgeous,Cabaret Hostess, why is Suguru here?

<<< For more content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

One man who defied all odds for being the type who continued to attempt to peruse you, was oddly satisfying.

He tried to solicit your attention with scrap pieces of paper with his contact details, the three numbers leading up to his room and forward facing comments to do anything to coax you his way. 

A regular he was, booked in at the same table of the Cabaret club ‘Hollow’. And despite his advances and even offers of more money just to go on a private date to which you declined every time, you always accepted his requests when he would ask for you by name.

Why? Because he looked nothing like your ex-husband. You had been free of him for two years now.

Kiyotaka Ijichi was a scrawny little business man who had not an ounce of the poise or manipulation, just plain old boldness and everyday average looks. Nowhere near strong enough to take someone on in a fight either, like a mouse afraid of their own shadow, too petrified to go out of its home by itself to avoid the trap. Just how you liked it. 

In the club he couldn’t hurt you or upset you, make situations about himself or make you feel like complete shit. Ijichi complimented you, impressed by your fashion and how you carried yourself and me he made sure to tell you often. He was just so ordinary, plain looking enough and just living day to day life as a drone.

Perfect.  

“Another glass of champagne please.” This was glass number three and it was almost as though Ijichi was trying to get you drunk.

Most rules stipulated your own discretion, making wise chooses whilst surrounded by alcohol and men with wandering hands. Though one rule that always bugged you was, within reason, you must fulfil all wishes of the clients. Including drinking. 

You giggled and put on a show as usual to keep him coming back and spending as much money as possible. “Easy on my champagne Kiyotaka, anyone would think you were trying to get a girl drunk!”

Talking sweet like that seemed to please him. There were plenty of younger girls that would have suited his tastes, however he requested you right from the very start and spent good money doing so. “Not at all, I just want to treat my special girl for her birthday I missed last week.”

Your birthday, another year older. Another reason to believe he would grow bored of you soon and move on to another girl, a totally depressing thought when the tips and gains were so good. Just a few weeks ago he brought you a designer handbag just because he said he wanted to. 

It was flattering, and a younger girl would definitely fall for his generosity and probably bend to his persistence. 

“Special girl huh?” You shuffled and leant forward to pick up your glass with left over champagne inside. “I’m a year older now, you sure you won’t be requesting another girl next week?”

Special girl. That was the name he used to call you. 

Ijichi swirled the golden bubbly liquid left in his own glass, arm up along the top of the booth seat behind you. “Never. I wouldn’t do that at all, I enjoy your company.” 

Then why do you keep asking me back to your hotel every time?

Usually men just enjoyed talking, conversation on boring topics like politics, business and sports, maybe even stocks from time to time. But an invitation to a hotel could be misconstrued as sex or something similar along the kinky lines of role playing. Unless clear expectations were set before hand, it could get confusing when a guy sat down on the chair in the hotel ready to talk about his wife who was sat at home with the kids, or on the other hand wanting your hand shoved down his pants or mouth around his cock. 

“Oh you.” You placed your free hand on his shoulder and tapped it playfully. “You’re too kind.”

“And you’re too beautiful. I often wonder why you accept my request every time I come here.” 

Because of the tips. They paid your rent with lots to spare.

You hadn’t dabbled in testing the muddy waters, but his persistence was beginning to make you question whether or not you should just entertain him just to get him to stop asking. 

But if you did, it could carry on and it wasn’t something you were interested in.

“I enjoy your company too.” He was refreshing. Not at all your type of guy, but far enough from your type it put you into a comfort zone, soothing and different.

“So…” You knew immediately what he was going to request. “Will tonight be my lucky night? You’ll come back to my hotel room?” 

“Kiyotaka… I don’t think that’s wise. You’ve given me way too much champagne.” Your giggling did nothing to get him to chuckle along with you. 

He didn’t. He actually leaned closer to you and pulled away a strand of hair that clung to the stickiness of your drying lip gloss. 

“You’re incredibly beautiful, and to be honest I’ve come to like you very much.” Desperation became him. “I-I promise I’ll keep coming back and requesting you. Just one night that’s all I ask, there doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want I-I would just like some alone time to speak privately, you know, to get to know the real you?”

His face, so puppy like begging for a walk. How could you say no realistically? But that must have been the champagne in your system. One night. So would he leave you alone after that? Much contemplation and the alcohol was clouding it, the decisions and better judgement. After all, he spent so much on you in and outside of the cabaret. Beautiful hand crafted leather purses arrived at work with beautiful cards and lace, bags and fresh bouquets of flowers of your favourite, violets, to which you didn’t even remember mentioning it. 

You both had talked quite frequently over the months, and he listened intently and remembered the small details. All since he walked into the Cabaret club and requested you. Maybe one night. It had been two years after all since you had ended things and endured the divorce. You hadn't even entertained the idea of being in the company of another man outside of the club since then.

He awaited your response with great patience. “Alright... One night.” 

“W-what? Are you sure?”

You nodded, tipping back the rest of your champagne for good measure for you lacked the dutch courage. “I’m sure, one night after I finish and I will come and talk with you at you hotel. One night only though.” 

It depended how things went. As a cabaret hostess, it came with a set of responsibilities, and watching who you fell in love with was a big one. Girls often let feelings get in the way with other clients, men so even more, falling in love definitely came with its perks, but also its downsides which hit back twice as hard.

You didn’t love Ijichi, you weren’t sure you even liked him in a way he was inclined towards you, but he seemed like a decent guy. Hence why you agreed. 

He didn’t say anything right away, he sat there thinking, contemplating whilst looking around the club and its patrons. “What if I dropped enough money down on the table to cover your work tonight, would you come with me right now?” 

For the night? That was ridiculous, who had that kind of money that they could just blow on one person? It was in the millions. 

“A typical Friday night?” Mental maths was never your strong suit. “Roughly six million Yen.” 

“Easy.” He pulled what looked like Italian leath wallet. Must have been imported. Bank notes rained down onto the table with a flutter. 

“But this…” After you scooped it, you counted it. “This isn’t six, this is ten million.” 

“I said I wanted to treat my special girl, pocket the other four and buy yourself something pretty.” This money came from someone who claimed they were in accounting, who knew that was how much they made. 

I need to get into a different line of work. 

“Thank you Kiyotaka, it’s very generous of you.”

So it was a done deal. The manager was thrilled to see how much you’d brought in for the night and he allowed you to leave early without so much as a peep from jichji to convince him. As soon as he heard you were going on a what would you call it, a date? He let you go immediately despite your roster for staying until closing time. 

The hotel wasn’t even far, very convenient for the rush of dizzy and flush at your cheeks when you came out on to the main street and hit the wall of chill. Only one street away, and a fancy one at that. When you thought about it in your little tipsy fog, he had always been staying at a hotel, the same hotel number. You remembered the various amount of scrapped paper and scribbled writing to know it was the same hotel on the heading by the ripped corner. 

How much money did this man have? It seemed the only this Ijichi had in common with your ex-husband though money did not appear as Ijichi's personality at face value.

It’s fine. He’s lovely. He's Probably lonely too. He took your arm and steadied you, taking it slow right through the lobby and up to the elevator.

The sight cause you to gasp audibly and forget the little details. “That’s so pretty.” 

You marvelled at the one thing that drew your attention. Sparkly things. Glitter, iridescent sheets of glass and card to make a truly beautiful and angelic sculpture by the elevator. Shapes and intricate swirls over meticulously placed sheets of glass and wire rope in the style of traditional architecture. So shiny, the light hit it perfectly to reflect the contrasted rainbow. 

“Apparently it took them an entire year to cut the shards of glass and hang them in just the right way, if you were to cut them down, you could never get the same effect again.” 

Ijichi knew his architecture and here you were, standing looking at glitter. Art was wasted on you, if it wasn’t sparkly or shiny you weren’t interested. Diamonds were your favourite to look at. The top floor too? The elevator took ages to ascend to the penthouse, Ijichi took his hand and snaked it around the small of you back and waist. He claimed it was for your support but you didn’t believe him for a second, he was trying to get closer. 

To cop a feel? Maybe. 

“We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with and as soon as you’re ready I can take you home or back to the club.” 

So considerate, why weren’t all guys like this? “Thank you, I appreciate it.” 

“There’s also more champagne chilling in my room too.”

That made you chuckle, this whole scenario tickled your funny bone. “Now I know for certain that you’re trying to get me drunk! You aren’t subtle at all Kiyotaka.” 

He smiled at the childish pat on his shoulder, but he didn’t appear to be as confident as he was, like there was a filter on his face. Maybe he was regretting it? The pacing was wrong, he took one step for every two of yours, hurrying you along to the door now. Perhaps he was eager instead? You had decided that you were not going to sleep with him. 

His keycard lit up the tiny light on the reader and the door opened. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry about this.” The door closed in slow motion. 

“What are you taking about?” That’s right, slow motion. 

“There’s my special girl, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

You sobered instantly, the chill like a steam train bouldering heavily enough down your spine. It wasn’t the cold or the champagne, it was a monster. 

Your ex-husband. 

“S-Suguru…” It was so difficult to face him. “How did you find me?” 

You didn’t see him, but you felt his very existence. Ichiji stood by the corner of the room shaking his head, a remorseful look and knitted brows. 

“Ijichi is a very good sniffer dog.” 

That bastard, that weak little bastard just took you straight to the vipers den. You knew now where Kiyotaka Ijichi was really getting his money from. Suguru Geto bankrolled that pathetic bastard everything he paid you.

You managed to be free of Suguru once before, not without stress and fear. A manipulator in his own right, a monster who kept you, never cared for you and claimed it was love. There was no  way you were going to get away from him again. 

Not without risking more than a catastrophic divorce and traumatic nightmares.

All because Kiyotaka Ijichi had no fucking spine. 

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[cynical-ghost]

TURN THAT FROWN UPSIDE DOWN!

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x flightattendant!Gf!Reader

Genre: SMAU- Social Media.

Warning(s): use of Yn

Synopsis: Charles seems down when he gets to the paddock without his gf who couldn’t make it due to work…

A/n: a little self indulgent as I’m on a plane for the first time since I was a kid so I’m using this as a coping method 😭👍

Gossip_grid

Liked by motherYn, CL16N01, Landonorizzz and 431,654 others

Gossip_grid Charles looking down before the Monaco Grand Prix 🇲🇨 today as his long-term girlfriend Yn is away for work.

MotherYn awww they are so in love❤️ brb going to sit on the highway…

Cl16N01 Yn is always at his races, but she gotta get her bag too.

User15 OMFG YN IS ON MY FLIGHT RNNN ?!??:’shdbdjjwhjehwb

Landonorizzz IS SHE NICE!!!

User15 SHE IS SO KIND AND SOOO FUCKING PRETTYY OMGSJSBSB

Ynforeal

Liked by Charles_Leclerc, Arthur_Leclerc, Maxverstappen1 and 984,214 others

Ynforeal This feeling>

(Good luck @/charles_leclerc!!)

Charles_Leclerc beautiful mon amour 💕

Ynforeal Love you, have a great race!!👏🍾 (turn that frown upside down, yes I have seen the pictures of you moping😂)

Charles_Leclerc For you 🫶 (I am not moping😭)

Maxverstappen1 he is moping…

Arthur_Leclerc agreed

Charles_Leclerc shush 😒

MotherYn Hope you had a safe flight Yn!!

Ynforeal i did thank you!

MotherYn OMFGJSBDHSJSBS

User15 It was so nice meeting you today!!!

Ynforeal Dito!! I hope you had a satisfactory flight ✈️

Charles_Leclerc

Liked by Ynforeal, Arthur_Leclerc, pascale.leclerc.355 and 3,766,664 others

Charles_Leclerc BEST DAY EVER❤️❤️❤️. Thank you for everything, I love you all ❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍

Arthur_Leclerc Let’s gooooo❤️

Ynforeal CONGRATULATIONS CHARLIE!!! 🍾👏🎉🥳🎊

Charles_Leclerc wish you were here to celebrate with me ❤️

Ynforeal look at my page 🤭

Ynforeal

Liked by Arthur_Leclerc, yourbff, Charles_Leclerc and 1,948,342 others

Ynforeal LETS GOOOO!!! Monaco curse finally broken!! Couldn’t be any prouder of you❤️🤍❤️🤍 @/Charles_Leclerc

Charles_Leclerc YOUR HERE????

Ynforeal Long-haul flight to Nice 😂 come find me, love ❤️💕🥳

Arthur_Leclerc Told you he was going to cry, dunno if it’s from the win or finding out your here tho 😂

Charles_Leclerc a bit of both 😂

Ynforeal 😂😂🎊

User15 YAYAYAYA 😂😂😂

Ynforeal thank you for keeping the secret 🫶

User15 🫶🫶

F1_Wags

Liked by Ynforeal, motherYn, Landonorizzz and 782,943 others

F1_wags Charles is looking ecstatic after finding out his long-term girlfriend Yn Ln made it to see his Monaco win after a long-haul flight from Australia.

MotherYn She never misses a race, I’m starting to think she makes the planes go faster tbh 😂

Landonorizzz Yn the woman you are 🫶

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎 ⋮ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

modern restaurant au, and you’re the newest member of the team! tags: james x fem!reader, server!james, bartender!sirius, chef!remus, server!lily, server!marlene, hostess!mary, ooc!remus, hothead!remus, server!reader, anxious!reader, coworker!marauders, modern au, restaurant au, muggle au

⟢ part 1. welcome in it's your first day on the job and james is your trainer

⟢ part 2. james' girl after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his

⟢ part 3. graduation james finds the conclusion of your training bittersweet

⟢ part 4. smoke break neither you nor james smoke, but remus does

⟢ part 5. silverware you and james complete side work at the end of your shift

⟢ part 6. drinks james asks you to stay for some drinks after closing time

on hold for now, more to come

[honeysunai]

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part ten - Under the Mistletoe

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 3k

Author's note : I will be keeping the old aesthetic for this story, sorry for people who like the new aesthetic of my newer one shots. Also, clearly, this was meant to be a Christmas special, but we are in September and I kind of wanted to wait until December, but I've been holding off for months, so here it is and I do hope you enjoy this part. As always, have an amazing day and stay hydrated!

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arrange marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three. 

You jolted awake like you’ve done for the past ten days. Your mind was racing and your heart was pounding. You couldn’t stop thinking about Kyoya and what he did so shamelessly to you. The memory of Kyoya's shameless actions consumed you, a relentless loop that replayed with vivid intensity. He had acted without a shred of hesitation, unburdened by remorse, leaving an indelible mark on your consciousness and your body. Your thighs clenched together and your face turns red at the thought of Kyoya back between your legs. 

It was short and passionate, he kissed you more afterwards and refused to give in to your pleasure to return the favor to him. To your displeasure, he refused and reminded you that this “deal” between you is only physical and he didn’t need you that night. The day after he had put back the wall he put between you and barely spoke to you and you did the same by ignoring him for all the next ten days.  No matter how hard you try to get him off your mind and ignore him, the second you close your eyes you can only think about him and what you wish he would do to you. 

All that daydreaming is costing you some A’s on your papers and you won’t settle for less!

This wasn’t you! You were so confused as to why you dreamt so much about him! You used to despise him and his shitty attitude and now you were sexually dreaming of him… Get a grip! You couldn’t lose to him either, you said you won’t fall in love with him, he’s just a high school crush… A crush… You couldn’t possibly have a crush on Kyoya Ootori? He’s a stupid teenager and you are so much more than a teenager that has a crush. You’re independent, you’re talented, intelligent and pretty. 

You went to your mirror to get ready and pointed at your reflection with a twisted expression. “You have to despise him again.” You grunt. “You don’t love him, you lust after him which is not better, but it’s temporary.” 

Under the chilling water, you braced yourself for the day ahead, feeling the exhaustion seep from your bones. It was shaping up to be another one of those rough days. After the shower, you reluctantly checked your agenda, and there it was, like a punch to the gut – an exam last period. Groaning, you realized the day wasn't going to cut you any slack. With a sigh, you steeled yourself for the challenge, hoping you'd find the energy to tackle it when the time came.

You’ve managed to survive two periods before Kyoya dragged you into an empty music room, his lips glued to yours. His gentle hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward to part your perfect lips so his tongue can meet yours. 

As your lips meet in a deliberate, unhurried rhythm, time seems to pause, allowing every tender sensation to unfurl. The warmth of Kyoya’s breath mingles with yours, creating an electric current that courses through your body. The gentle exploration of lips and tongues is a language of desire, each movement deliberate and sensuous. Every touch is deliberate, sensuous, and in those stolen moments, it's like you're wrapped up in this emotional symphony. The world outside just kind of disappears, and all that's left is this mix of vulnerability and desire hanging in the air. It's intense, like you're caught up in something so much bigger than just a kiss.

You broke the kiss first and his eyes searched yours with this lust that glimmered in them. 

You whisper while looking up at him.  “I can’t keep doing this.” 

He huffs. “What do you mean?”

“We only kiss when you want it, not when I want to.” You tell him. “I try to do it at school and you kind of… do not reciprocate until you want me.”

“Because it’s fun to see you turn red. If you want my attention you’ll have to try harder y/n.” He smiles softly, seeing you didn’t find it funny he continued. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” That was the least you’d expect from him. You were quite shocked in all honesty. 

“I want to make a new rule to our arrangement. We can’t kiss or anything until the end of the winter exams.”

“That’s a whole month, you sure you want to risk it?”

She huffs. “Risk what?”

“Miss me.” He smirks. “Miss my touch.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear. “Miss my tongue.” You push him away.

“I’ll be fine. I’m not that desperate.” You roll your eyes at him.

“You're willing to go to great lengths to prove a point; I respect that," he chuckles. "But don't come running back when you start feeling those butterflies right here." He licks his lips as his hand trails down your lower belly. "And find yourself needing me to deal with it."

All that gentleness and kindness was now gone. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Aw.” He clutched at his heart with a playful smile. “Fine. I agree to your terms, we’ll wait after the final exams. We wouldn’t want your grades to be worse than they already are.”

“They are not THAT bad.” You roll your eyes again. “Besides, it’s only a slip up and you know it.”

“It's because you can’t stop thinking about me, is it?”

“You wish.” You bark back before leaving the classroom to go study on your break.

That damn idiot.

The first snow finally arrived and you were so happy, it was the middle of december and you were ecstatic. You and the Club decided to take your little club activities outside on a beautiful day like that. It wasn’t too cold, nor too hot, just the perfect temperature for you to be able to roam around the campus without freezing to death. You were walking with Haruhi and Renge arms intertwined together laughing at Renge’s behavior towards something Asahi said earlier that day. She was red with anger and told you how stupid that boy was and blah blah blah… You and Haruhi couldn’t help but roll your eyes and her poor attempt to conceal her attraction to that guy. 

Around you, the girls were gawking at the three of you hanging out together, seeing how fond you are for one of another made their heart melt. You realized a few months ago how easy it is to make them fall for false charm… or just being yourself. 

You can see on the ground two shadows behind you and you smirk to yourself as you duck an incoming snowball. 

“How did you know?” Hikaru gasps. 

You smirk. “You can’t outwin a snowball fighter champion.”

“Is there such a thing?” Haruhi asks, not entirely convinced and she was right to do so. It was a shit title you just had invented to make the twins busy up in their mind for you to catch the heavy snow, form it into a ball and throw it at Kaoru’s face. 

“You–!” He gasps as you duck to get another one in which you failed to hit the boy another time with the snowball and it was too late… he tackled you to the ground. You yelp as his heavy weight carried you to the ground, but never crushed you as he was holding himself up. You can hear soft giggles and gasp from some of your guests at this incident.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You chuckle at this embarrassing situation. Suddenly, someone shadowed the both of you. A strong hand gripped Kaoru’s collar and yanked him with ease off of you. The very same hand helped you stand up on your feet. You look up to see Kyoya’s harsh gaze on the twin. 

“Tackling a defenseless girl is not very nice is it not, Kaoru?”

“I wasn’t defenseless.” You mumbled under your breath. The boys were all confused as to why he was defending you openly in front of everyone. He rolled his eyes at your comment.

“It was all in good fun.” He replies winking at you and that owed him a snowball to the face by none other than Kyoya who had a shiteating grin glued on his face. “It’s on four eyes!” Kaoru yells picking up snow and throwing it directly at him and yet, it hits you. Kyoya used you as his personal meat shield. 

“Using a defenseless girl as a meat shield is not very nice is it not, Kyoya?” You barked at him and before another snowball hit you, he grabbed your arms and made you duck with him. 

“Less talking, more fighting.” He adds and you both grabbed a bunch of snow throwing it at the twins, which hit Tamaki and his guests further behind and you giggled at his blushed angry face. 

“Don’t forget about us!” Honey yells as he, Mori and Haruhi join the battle.

It was free for all, everyone was at each other's throats, there were no rules. Dirty tricks, playing safe, anything was on the table. Kaoru was mostly running away from Kyoya as he was chasing him and you running away from Hikaru and Honey as they swore you were their enemy. You were covered from head to toe with snow, you grew cold, but you wouldn’t admit defeat… Never would you admit defeat.

Kyoya was about to throw one at you, with the biggest smirk on his face. Before he could even throw it, Tamaki and Mori used a large empty flower pot filled with snow and dumped it on your opponent. You could keep your giggles in as his ego took a punch. Your laugh was loud and ugly at best, but it sounded melodious to Kyoya as he had made you laugh, a true one.

The bell finally rang and it was all over. “I guess that makes these two the winners of this fight.” You say between two giggles. Kyoya and Hikaru both wrapped one arm over each shoulder and dragged you inside with the rest of the group following you.

Tamaki, Kyoya, Honey, Mori and you were all sitting in the same class and the teacher could tell you were all playing outside by the way you were disheveled and face flushed from the cold. A smile was glued on your face as you felt Kyoya gazing at the back of your messy hair.

You kept ignoring Kyoya for the next month, burying yourself in books at school, at home, and even in your dreams. The grind of studying became a monotonous escape, but it couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off. You couldn't shake the fact that you were shutting out Kyoya completely. The silence between you two weighed heavy on your mind, and even as you immersed yourself in equations and facts, it felt like you were losing something more than just time. The sacrifice of connection for academic gains started to seem like a questionable trade-off. You missed him? No. You’re not that desperate that you miss Kyoya. 

Tomorrow was your last exam before the Christmas break and you were thinking how excited you were to be done with it. You were in bed with your phone in your hands and texted Kyoya, but he was faster than you.  

Good luck tomorrow, goblin shark.

You crack a smile and respond quickly.

I changed my mind… You’re a sunfish. Good luck, Kyoya.

The final bell rang and she could cry tears of joy. You were done with your exams and could finally relax. You took your time to pick up your stuff as you reminisced about the last month and a half and how hard you’ve worked on your studies and how hard it was to actually ignore Kyoya. 

At first it was easy, he became this cold wall of ice as he was before you started school here and slowly it became harder when you two had to meet for a monthly dinner with both families. That night you sat side by side at dinner and his hand was on you the entire time. His slender fingers tracing circles on your thigh, his hand trailing up under your skirt just for you to want, no, need more. After that dinner, you came home like an absolute mess. You were angry at him and yet you only wanted him closer. When you came back to school, you avoided him like the plague no matter how close you two were sitting in class. 

After finally finishing packing your bag, your cheeks still warm from the lingering memories of dinner, you stepped out of the classroom. There was one last thing you needed from the music room before heading home.

The hallways were empty as you entered the music room, moving toward the secret trunk where you kept some of the eccentric costumes Tamaki always insisted you wear. You were so absorbed in whatever was on your phone that you didn’t even notice someone approaching—until you felt a hand pull you swiftly into the empty dressing room. You were about to yell at whoever dragged you, but were cut off by familiar lips crashing into yours. The soft groan that escaped his mouth made her knees grow weak. 

“The exams are over.” He whispers between kisses. “I’ve been patient, but I need this, I need you. Please let me have this.” Was he begging? You dropped your bag and lightly pushed him to the wall behind him, the mirror directly on both of them. 

You had the upper hand whether he liked it or not. And you were going to take advantage of it.

“We will do this my way.“ your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “Or we won’t be doing anything at all,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. “What will it be?” You’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening.

“Your way.” He breathes and you drop to your knees, your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip.

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck…” He looks down at you, then back at the mirror, eyes half shut. You take a peek at the mirror and he would be your undoing, he looked like a mess. You've never seen him like this and it was so satisfying knowing that he was the one who came crawling.

He groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  “Y/n–” He groans before he’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth. As soon as you were done, releasing him from your mouth he leaned down to kiss you again. It was needy, messy, but it was something you dreamt of no matter how pissed at him you were before.

He holds your jaw gently. "Don't do this to us, ever again." Us... She couldn't do this ever again, because she did miss his touch as much as he did and she was so close to give up may times, but her pride put her in place. She didn't have the proper words to answer him, so her lips found his once more.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬

✧ @gay-noble @vanicogh @hopeless-romanticnamed-s @idktbhloley @p1nkliquor @hellokittykuroo @batboob @kisskissshutmydoor @lemonrolls @hoku-killer @sunukissed @jessiegerl @lunalily19 @i7zha @asrainterstellar @arimoony24 @simp-lythebest @fan-g0rl​ @randobeetlehouse​​ @glomp-me @yeeyeebabe @maackiimoo @kaelysian @noendingtolove @luminaaz @thewendyslogo @eri0-0 @arielbillyboy16 @aangsupremacy​ @yuriklol​ @lillunna @lostsomewhereinthegarden @chocorenchin  @sukcama @bratb1tch @topmeyelena

[whorrorbellee]

FLAWLESS

warnings:smut, drug use. 18+ only please The bear but it's actually just linecook!Aemond x hostess!reader.  porn w a plot.

no beta we die or whatever

2014-7:40 Pm. 

You stand at the hostess stand, looking over the Ipad for reservations, you're absolutely swamped, it's a Saturday night in Knightsbridge, London. Barely seconds pass before the phone rings again, it's the same conversation you've had every weekend for the past year. “Sorry we’re fully booked!” 

“Do you know who I am?” 

“Yes! And here at RedKeep we thank you for being a loyal customer~” 

“I want to speak to the manager!”

 “Sorry the managers not here right now”

“Then who's next in charge?” Queue you, grabbing Daemon from the office, where he completely undermines what you're saying to the customer, allowing them to take a reservation from some poor couple who had saved up their money to taste the food from RedKeep, because it is good for business. 

Keep the loyal customers, he says, fucking asshole. You watch their smug faces grin as they walk in, pressed white shirts and silk dresses they didn’t fish out the bin from the local Guild care. Sometimes you smile and make your accent slightly deeper as you lead them to their seats. Other times you let them know it's you and lead them to the table directly by the bar, letting them hear the utter nonsense that Criston and Aegon spill behind the bar all night. 

But you always retreat to the back for your five minute smoke break, snatching the Marlboro reds from the office, Daemon winking at you as you shove your coat on in the winter. You let yourself breath in the only thing that keeps you going through your shift, music blasting from the shitty headphones that came with your phone and then crush half of it between the sole of your black doc martens, straightening out your black silky blouse, and wandering through the kitchen back to your stand, where you greet another customer with a smile faker than the diamond rings that protrude off the women's fingers.

You rub the tiger balm into the crook of your neck in the changing room, its 10:00 pm, kitchen closed about half an hour ago, and the chef’s are scrubbing the floor down on their knees, you thank god the only thing you have to do is inform Daemon of the reservations for the next week, fully booked until next august, they usually go down about then, people retreat to France and Italy for summer. Your shifts go down and you tutor rich brats who are failing their GCSEs. Spending summers writing essays about Macbeth for fourteen year olds who find nothing better to do than take their daddy's golf cart for a ride around their ridiculously huge back gardens in sussex.  

You hum to yourself, slipping of your blouse, the door opens and then is slammed shut. You turn, half naked in the changing room, your locker swinging open, Aemond stands with his nose pressed into his locker, you change into a band shirt and pleated skirt, pulling on high denier tights. “Are you coming tonight?” he whispers, it's soft, you watch him pull out his bag as you re-lace your boots. 

“Yeah, did Aegon get the weed?” you ask quietly, boots thumping against the floor as you stand, you grab your backpack from the floor, shutting your locker. 

“No Cregan did” Aemonds back ripples as he pulls on a black shirt, you watch his tattoos shift under it, he grabs his motorcycle helmet out of the locker, eye shifting to yours. You go to stand next to him. He pulls out a pack of Marlboro reds, original packaging, you wonder if they're fake, but the Polish words stare back at you, “want one?” he slips one into the corner of his mouth, pulling on his jacket.

You swallow, “Yes please” you take the cigarette and push it behind your ear, walking to the door. He follows. You push open the door, stepping out into the hallway, Daemon stands in the kitchen watching Rhaenrya sharpen the knives. You still refuse to believe they were ever married, her dad and him were such close friends it was borderline Insestuous. “I'm glad Cregan got it, Aegon always choses really weird strains, like unicorn poop? What is that?” 

Aemond shrugs and follows you out the back, you wave to Daemon and Nyra, door slamming behind you. Cregan and Aegon wait by your car, its scratched to fuck. From where Aegon had slammed the door into the tree. You don't even know why you own a car anymore, parking is so expensive in London, you only use it to get to work and home. You watch Aemond shove his helmet on and then leave the car park. Unlocking your car and letting the boys pile in. 

Cregan hits his head on the ceiling and Aegon falls into a mess of giggles in the back. You breathe in the scent of cherry, air freshener hanging from the mirror, Some arctic monkey's song comes on from the aux. You look to your left, Cregans on tinder replying to some bird. It would be rude to call him a slut but he gets around, he got some bird up north pregnant and now he has to send up money every month for a two year old he barely sees. You pull out, switching gears before starting your journey to Aegon's place it’s about half an hour drive into camden, you pass the punks on the bridge and pull in to the slip where Aegon's flat share is, he lives Aemond and a bunch of hippies that sell vintage clothes at the market. 

You run to the corner shop first, buying a bottle of cheap vodka and a diet coke. Then you walk back down the dark street, lighting the ciggie that Aemond gave you, a tote bag heavy on your shoulder, passing the bike and slipping down the side of the building opening the gates. The smell of weed hits you almost immediately. Cregan sits legs spread on the rattan furniture that Aegon stole from someone's front porch last summer. You don't know why he does it, his mum literally owns the restaurant. He earns more than enough. 

You slide up next to Helaena , she leans her head into your shoulder for a moment and then leans back, thumbs padding against her cracked iphone 5, Cregan hands you the joint its some cali strain this time, you rarely smoke. But Saturdays at the RedKeep are actually killing you. Aegon pulls out his speaker and decides to blast drum and bass. You steal the aux and play cigarettes after sex. Falling into the rattan sofa, pulling your Northface jacket around your legs, its fucking cold. Aegon's wearing his dressing gown and hoodie as he stands out the back door. You don't even know why you're in the garden, an hour passes and you find yourself sweating on the sofa, legs intertwined with Aegons as he spews on about some weird conspiracy theories; dragons being real, the lizard people shit. You talk about the ghost house when you lived in the isle of white for a year. And then you've had enough of talking so you head up to Aemonds bedroom to listen to music. 

Your socks run up the carpeted stairs, pausing outside Aemonds bedroom, you knock and hear him grunt a yes. You practically throw yourself into his bed, your phone bouncing from impact, he smiles at you, and you look at his mac playing on the bed, he’s watching reruns of misfits before it gets bad. 

“You know, Aegon always reminds me of Nathan? I can't watch it without thinking about him.” You sigh,“it's a shame because Robert Sheehan is really fit” Ameond hides a laugh, he's different now. He used to light up a room with his quick wit. But now he’s buried into himself, he just keeps retreating and retreating. You used to have this weird thing between you. It was all longing looks and brushed knuckles. He’d follow you outside on early morning shifts to have a ciggie, making you laugh, legs pressed against each other on the staircase. Sometimes you’d bring him coffee and he'd make you one of those fruit salads with all the fruit scraps, slices of mango and strawberry tops. Nights spent outside nursing a joint while Aegon sings incredibly loud in the lounge. No one was surprised when they saw you two getting closer, it's like fate really. Line cook and hostess. If it wasn't Jace it was going to be Aemond.

And then the accident happened. It wasn't Luke's fault, it really wasn't. Something had split on the floor, Luke wasn't wearing the proper shoes yet. He was just about to start his shift, so he slips, grabs for Aemond, His knife in hand just about to chop something, they both fall to the ground. You remember coming to grab Aemond for a cigarette and there was just blood everywhere. All over the white tiles. You remember thinking that he had spilt some kinda wine sauce, nearly laughing until he had sat up and his face looked like it was falling apart. He was shaking, too afraid to cry, and Luke was sent home. 

It was one of those slow days. So you had shoved him into the car with a napkin pressed over his eye. Taking him to A&E for stitches, he looked so different when he came out. He smoked a cigarette in your car with bloodstained hands. You hand squeezed his thigh as you took him home. Then days later you had picked him up from the hospital. White eyepatch over the gaping hole. They removed his eye incase of an infection. It wasn't salvageable, he had sliced right through the cornea. 

He wasn't at work for weeks, you remember standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him to come down and join the others, aegon had pulled you away after an hour. Too shy to head up there yourself and then months later you had taken a joint and pringles up to his room. He was just staring out the window, watching the sunset as Helaena  spun around with Cregan. 

“How was work?” he asks, you hand him a vodka coke, swinging your legs under yourself. 

“Fucking terrible, Daemon did it again” your hands runs through your hair. You look at Aemond, you can barely even notice the difference with his fake eye and real one, they got it spot on. “It pisses me off so much, like no wonder we aren't getting any new customers. When he keeps cancelling the bookings” Aemond shuts his laptop, he gets up and grabs a record from the pile in the corner, the needle hits the vinyl with a hum, it crackles around the room.  He's so different from his brother, you wonder where he gets it from. He's just softer. 

You miss his touch. He lies back down on the bed, hands over his heart, you're on your stomach, watching him breathe slightly, you wanna reach out and touch him, he watches you hesitate. “Sorry” he mutters. He runs his hand through his hair. Your eyebrows furrow, he looks away. 

“Why are you sorry?” you ask, you lean into your hands and watch him. Waiting for an answer. 

He pauses, chewing on his lips, and then his face settles, his lips back to the perpetual pout. “I know we had this thing between us, but you don't have to keep it going because you feel sorry for me” 

“Huh” your eyebrows raise, you almost wonder if he's joking, you wait for him to crack a smile, “ I~I don't know what to say Aemond, I don't feel sorry for you” you groan, your hands smush your face together and then you plant yourself into the side of his body. You feel him stiffen and then his hand comes back to smooth over the small of your back. Your face heats. “I ~ oh god” you look up at him watching his eyes twitch, “I always felt like you were just playing along with this whole thing, we had” you shift, pushing yourself onto your knees. “I've have this really stupid big crush on you, since I had the panic attack out back and you sat with me for twenty minutes even though Nyra was shouting at you.”

He sits up, your jaw shifts side to side, you wonder if you should just escape downstairs and sleep with Cregan instead. His hand reaches out to touch your thigh pulling back. He lets out a huff. “You’re fucking with me” he shakes his head. You shake your head back smiling.

“Wait a sec” you grab your phone and swipe back to a conversation you had with Healana months ago, you hand it to him. Watching his eye sweep across the messages. He smirks, and then scrolls down, your eyes widen, he laughs. 

“You can stop scrolling now” but he continues anyway smirk falling into a smile, “Aemond!” your own smile falls, “ Aemond, please stop scrolling” you grit your teeth. Your hand reaches to snatch your phone, But he pulls it away from you, you climb over his body hand on his shoulder, reaching out to grab at your phone. You feel yourself lose balance, you begin your descent onto his floor, but his arm grabs around your waist and pushes you back onto the bed quickly. He’s hovering over you, one arm on the bed the other lingering around your waist. 

“He’s gonna be the death of me” he smirks down at you. 

“Shut up” you huff, you bite your lips to stop you smirking, feeling heat rush to your face. You look up at him, watching his eyes glance down to your lips, you look at his. You’re so fucking high, and its not from the drugs. His hand brushes against your hip. Fingers pressing into the flesh, your skirt is flipped up, you don't even realise. It doesn't even matter because he’s already crashing his lips on your own. It's quick, chased and hard. You move together like you're running out of time, one hand brushing against your jaw the other pressed into your hip, you whine, hands running up his neck to his jaw, you're pulling him closer than what’s physically possible. 

He goes to untuck your shirt from your skirt, you part and pull it off over your head quickly, he takes in the curves of your body, tracing muscle and moles. “Nearly killed me today, walking in on you like this” you smirk under him, his hand brushed against your chest clad in a black lacy bra. You press his hands into your chest, he gropes and needs, his lips running down the column of your neck, you sigh under his touch, teeth grazing, lips nipping. 

Pupils blown, Aemonds hands fingers graze down from your chest to under your skirt, you pull him in for another kiss, teeth clashing together. Phone forgotten by the side of you. You feel his hands run down your legs, a finger hooks under the waistband of your tights, you lift your hips, propping yourself up on your elbows as he slides them down your legs, you part, standing and shifting them off. Aemond sits back and watches. The record crackles repeatedly through the speaker, and you lean down to pick one out. Carefully putting the vinyl into its sleeve. Needle back down, the music starts. “Your such a cliche” 

‘She planned ahead for a year… He said let's play it by ear’

“Shut up”,You slide yourself back into aemond’s arms, his hands run down your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, your own run down his chest and then tug at the shirt he wears. He pulls it over his head before you know it. Your hands trace the pale freckles skin, pressing wet kisses down his throat, he slides a hand around your thigh, pulling you to straddle him. He pulls your chin towards him, meeting him in another heated kiss.You moan as he grabs at the flesh of your ass, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your back arches, your chest pressing against his. He trails his lips across your chin as he rolls both of you over, his hand grazes your inner thigh and you wrestle your skirt off quickly. 

He sticks his head in the crock of your neck, kissing tenderly. Hand brushing under your panties, he cups your cunt, swiping a finger through your folds, “Shit your wet” he pants, you feel him smirk against your throat. “This fo’me?” you nod your head, eyes half shut as you stare at him. Lips bruised and pouting. He eats up your whines with his lips as his finger traces your clit, your hands brush against his neck and then grip his hair. He slides a finger into you with ease. You moan into his mouth. He makes a come hither motion and slides another finger inside of you. Your back arches and he groans, pinning you into the bed. Your knee slides up and brushes against his hardness. 

‘Youre a doll, you are flawless ’

He stiffens, movements stilling. You smirk. His hands leave your body and you meet his lips again, hands brushing against his groin. You pull at the belt buckle. Pulling away from him to see what you're doing, he pulls your panties down your legs, head buried in the crock of your neck pressing hot kisses onto your skin. You fumble and then pull his trousers down, you can see the outline of his cock through his boxers. He grins down at you. You palm at his cock, watching him through your lashes. He sheds his boxers, you run your hand down his length loosely, thumb brushing over his tip. You watch him whine. “Condom?” 

“I'm on the pill.” You hum.

He pulls your body towards him, your crotch meeting his thighs, he leans closer. The head of his cock brushing past your folds, it feels like hours spent teasing you and then suddenly he pushes into you, feeling you stretch around him. “Shit your tight”,your hands grip his shoulders, mouth gaping open at how full you feel. 

“Fuck Aem” He begins to move slowly, you feel every inch of him, every vein brushing against you. He looks down watching you suck him in. His hands trace against the side of your body, stopping at your hips. 

Finger’s digging into the flesh. You feel so dizzy with pleasure. “Shit, so good fo’me” you clench around him, he lips curl upwards. “You like that huh?” you moan, feeling his cock brush perfectly against your walls. “So fucking pretty underneath me” your back arches. 

He pulls out and pushes you onto your stomach, you lift your hips, he hilts himself inside of you all at once. You feel him in your throat.you hands trace against his creased covers as he pounds faster into you. He pulls your back towards his chest. Hand grabbing at your chin. You look him in the eye. Biting your lip, you feel sweat run down your bodies, his hand slides down your front and runs tight circles around your clit. He leans in to kiss you. Pulling away with a string of spit. “Close Aem”

“Yeah? Already” 

You nod against him, his fingers brush up your neck, pinning your body into his, neck tilting. Lips brushing together. You feel him pulse inside of you. You feel the pleasure spread from your back until you can't hold on anymore. You clench around him. You can taste it in your mouth. You turned around and pressed into the covers by his body, he pistons into you chasing his high,You feel him falter, bringing his face to your own, he presses his sweaty forehead to your own. Chasing your lips as he cums. Your own legs shake from under him. He collapses on your chest. Teeth grazing against your tits. He smiles up at you,  you push his hair back from his face. 

“I really like you” he whispers, his hand meets your cheek, the pad of his thumb smoothing over your skin. 

“I'm glad” you smile, “because i really you” he pulls away from you, shrugging on some clothes and running out the room. He comes back with a wet flannel. Wiping the sweat of your forehead and then between your thighs. He kisses your shoulder and you watch him grab clothes out his drawer. You pull your socks on, and his adidas jumper, along with some joggers. The cuffs of his jumper slides down your wrist to your palm. You slide your phone in his pocket and wait. Aemond stands by the door. “You coming?” your eyes widen and you jump off the bed, grabbing his hand to pull him down stairs. 

The music is louder than usual and Aegon stares at you as you walk through the door of the lounge,“You finally fucked then” 

“Aegon!” Helaena  gasps, shoving a pillow at his face. You watch Aemonds face blush but push him into the direction of the back yard, picking up your coat and bag. You both sit on the rattan furniture, Aemonds arm wrapped around your shoulder as you roll a joint, he presses his lips to the side of your mouth as you lick the paper. It's not the neatest, but it's not Aegons, which usually look limp and bent. You push the tray of your lap and tuck your legs under you, leaning into his body. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” 

You light the joint watching the cherry light, Turning to his side, he watches for your reaction. You smile, breathing in the weed and handing it to him. “Yes please” his lips curl. You pull your phone out his hoodie pocket, eyes widening as the texts to Helaena, light up. 

You: I literally need this man so bad I'm gonna have an aneurysm x Helaena: Istg, stop whining and talk to him all he does is ride his bike and go to work x

You switch your phone off and smile. 

[lazypiechi]

НИКАКОГО ШИППА

Чисто милая картинка с плюшевым y/n и Бай Хэ uwu Мне нравится свитер y/n х)))

[throatgoat4u]

introducing...

casino hostess!reader... 23. competitive. doesn’t believe in playing fair. mind games. loves playing tricks in people. prankster. thrives off chaos and drama. self sabotage. you’ll never know her next move. afterburner (for now). thrives on nightlife. always the center of attention. red lipstick. master of the game. hustler. seductress. has a pet name for everyone. hides behind the chaos she creates. trust issues.

best paired with... streetcar racer!nate

a/n: she’s so hot. that’s it. two mood boards for another different au coming out later today! stay tuned!

taglist: @snoopychris. @oopsiedaisydeer. @freshloveee. @evansturn. @izzylovesmatt. @sturns-mermaid. @adoreechxmpion. @desreads. @amterasuu. @pair-of-pantaloons. @rinnsgalaxy. @mr-wrinkleton. @courta13. @theyluvivi. @levidazai.

toodles {lovers} ♡︎

© throatgoat4u

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i might be butchering the hell out of gay host club culture im sorry 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[tofulune]

not to get on here and start acting up...but i hope we get more ass shots of vi in s2...

[timmurleyart]

Chief big wheel. 🟤🛞🪶🍰

[spurbleu]

priceghost x reader. dubcon themes.

thinking about being john’s newly-wed, barefoot and warm as an oven, stumbling to the door when you hear his iron foot fall. it’s been months, but you recognize the cadence on the porch. sounds like morning tea and his favorite cigars.

unlocking the door and throwing yourself into his arms, smelling the space above his shoulder, inhaling…petrichor. wet dirt. blood.

that isn’t your husband.

you slowly peel yourself away, stunned when your eyes meet brown instead of blue.

“where’s…”

“right ‘ere, dove.”

you glance over the stranger’s shoulder (who is still holding you up) and find your husband, looking a little too amused that his wife is in another man’s arms.

once you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, before rubbing your shoulder to coo the loud creature of embarrassment before it reaches your mouth in the form of an apology.

“you’ve met simon. he’ll be staying with us for a little while.”

you glance between the two before meeting your husbands eye. “I-“

“im sure you don’t mind the extra stomach, right darlin?”

you swallow.

“of course not,” you glance at simon, who’s face remains neutral, “the more the merrier.”

you meant for meals. they seemed to understand it differently.

now you sleep between the two of them, quilt unnecessary while their meaty limbs keep you sweltering.

the bed is heavy, and you haven’t complained because you’re a hostess, and simon is john’s friend. even when you feel him palming your clothed cunt ‘in his sleep’, you don’t fuss.

instead, you silently turn on your side, trying your best to subtly grab your husbands attention.

but he’s already there, watching. smiling gently, like he does when he says he loves you.

“there there dove. you can learn to share, right?”

[honeysunai]

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part nine - Test of courage

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

Word Count : 4k

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

You let out a long and bored sigh as you look at a blank paper in front of you. Tamaki assigned you to write ideas for the Halloween event the Host Club wants to host, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss and how eager Kyoya was and then returned to pretending you were just classmates. You were angry and yet… You only wanted him to kiss you all over again. 

It was infuriating. No. He was. 

“What about a cult of vampires thirsty for the blood of their guests.” Tamaki explodes as if he found the best idea of all time. Ew. Blood, no thanks. 

“This sounds too erotic even for us.” You chuckle. 

“Well, you haven’t written anything on that paper so I’m giving you some ideas to make that brain of yours work.” He chuckles while patting the top of your hair. 

The door busted open with the twins and Haruhi glued to their side. Kaoru spoke up first. “For the entire week, count us out.”

The mortifying expression on Tamaki’s face made you hold back a laugh. “What do you mean “us”? Why is Haruhi going with you?”

“We have a tournament on Halloween night, a test of courage.” She mumbles as if she thought it was the dumbest idea, it might as well be.

“And she is on our team.” Hikaru snickers. “She is in our class, afterall.” They both dramatically turn around and leave.

“Does this mean we cancel our event?” You ask quite eagerly for Tamaki’s response.

“This means we are going to participate in their little tournament.” His gaze never leaves the trio of second years. You grunt loudly. 

Tamaki’s genius plan was in preparation while you sat on a bench drinking tea with Mori. Your leg was bouncing rapidly out of anxiety.

“You seem tense.” Kyoya said, his eyes still focused on his computer screen. “I can smell the tension steaming.”

“Ew.” You scoff. “I'm not tense," you retorted.

“What's bothering you then? Are you scared?" Tamaki chuckled.

“No, I just don't see the point in scaring people," you mumbled.

Honey took a seat beside you and flashed a bright smile. “It's not just about that. You have a lot of candies too!"

“That's a valid point," you conceded. "While you two brilliant minds work on your plan, I'll make my exit. I've got some personal matters to attend to."

“Why's that?" Kyoya asked abruptly, turning his gaze towards you.

“It's not something you need to worry about," you replied with a quick smile before making your way out of the music room. In truth, you weren't busy at all; all your studies and homework were already completed. You simply wished to avoid the Halloween preparations. As you strolled through the school, you sought out an empty music room where you could indulge in a bit of cello before the next class.

After leaving the music room, you headed down the corridor in search of an empty space to practice your cello. As you walked, you couldn't help but overhear snippets of excited chatter from various students discussing the Halloween preparations. It seemed that the Host Club's Halloween event was generating quite a buzz.

Finally, you found an empty and peaceful practice room. You entered and set up your cello, finding comfort in the familiar strains of the instrument. As you began to play, the hauntingly beautiful melody filled the room, creating a serene atmosphere that provided a stark contrast to the bustling excitement of Halloween preparations.

Unbeknownst to you, a familiar figure from the Host Club had been silently trailing you. Haruhi, who had been observing your interactions with the other members, had sensed your need for a break from the chaotic festivities. She had followed you discreetly, understanding that you preferred solitude.

Leaning against the doorframe, Haruhi listened to your enchanting music. The sound of the cello captivated her, and she was moved by the depth of emotion in your playing. She watched you with a soft smile, appreciating the chance to see a different side of you.

When you eventually finished your piece, you turned to find Haruhi standing there, a gentle and understanding look in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but her presence was enough to convey her support and empathy.

“Be ready, Tamaki is taking part in your Tournament.”

She smiles. “This means you will as well?”

“Obviously.” You snort. 

With that, the two of you spent a little more time chatting, and finding common ground amidst the chaos of the Host Club's Halloween preparations. It was a welcome and unexpected connection that brought a sense of calm to an otherwise hectic day.

On Halloween night

You entered the ball room and noticed the dark ambiance. In the middle you could see makeup and costumes ready to be worn. 

You sigh. “Did you really ask the occult club to help us?” 

“They are professionals afterall.” Tamaki says proudly. “Who else but the Occult Club to know what is scary or not?” He had a fair point. 

You were grabbed by two girls and forced to sit down on a chair. You couldn’t protest before their work started. They Had their makeup brushes ready with pink and white paint. “It’s too late to say no, right?” You ask anyone before the first stroke of white paint touches your skin. At the same time the other girl worked over your hair. Two pigtails wrapped in red ribbons. It felt like forever until you could see yourself in the mirror. You were going to be a creepy little creepy lolitta doll.

“Good god.” You scoff as you look at yourself with your regular uniform, you look silly. 

“Do you not like it?” Nekozawa asked in a grim tone. To be fair, you were a bit freaked out by him and so you lied.

“I love it. I’m just not used to it.” You smile as best as you can, but you look creepy nonetheless. 

“Good!” He smiles. Even if he was happy, his smile was creepy. “We got the perfect costume to fit with your marvelous character. “The cursed doll!” It was like thunder cracked at the same time he spoke those very words. 

You looked in the mirror and couldn't help but feel that you appeared terrifying – and not in a good way. The worn-out pink and white puffy dress you wore was splattered with fake blood in a chaotic pattern. You imagined your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you in this outfit.

Emerging from the dressing room, you joined your Host Club friends in the ballroom. Tamaki, in his dashing vampire costume, looked unfairly handsome. Mori and Honey, dressed as a pair of werewolves straight out of a telenovela, exuded a certain charm. Kyoya, on the other hand, had chosen not to dress up.

With a stoic expression, you couldn't help but voice your frustration. "I hate you guys."

"Don't you look terrifying?" Kyoya quipped with a barely suppressed laugh.

You glared at him. "And don't you guys look cute?"

"Do you think so?" Honey's smile was radiant.

"Why am I the only one overdressed?" You grumbled.

Tamaki, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, smiled as he explained, "You are the dessert to our coup."

"I don't think that's a saying," you retorted. He led you out of the ballroom and into a classroom tucked away in the far corner of the school.

"Stay here until Honey gives you the signal. Here's your script," Tamaki said, handing you a crumpled piece of paper before closing the door, leaving you alone in the dark room.

"Ugh, I hate them," you muttered to yourself, closing your eyes and reading the poorly written script. It lacked any real scare factor. Your best bet was to simply scream at anyone who entered the room or adopt a lifeless stare to unnerve them.

As you sat in the dark room, dressed in your creepy Lolita costume, time seemed to crawl by at an agonizingly slow pace. The initial excitement of transforming into a terrifying character had given way to boredom and restlessness. Your once-eager anticipation for your role had faded into a growing sense of impatience.

You began to fidget in your chair, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the occasional distant laughter and muffled voices from the Halloween event outside. The worn-out pink and white dress seemed to constrict your movements, making you acutely aware of how uncomfortable and itchy it had become.

You sighed deeply, shifting your weight from side to side, trying to ease the discomfort of your costume. Your thoughts wandered, and you began to wonder if you were somehow forgotten or if the Host Club's plan had encountered an unexpected delay. The desire for some action or interaction had grown stronger with each passing minute.

Impulsively, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, checking the time. It had been far longer than you'd expected, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exasperation. To alleviate your boredom, you began scrolling through your phone, reading messages, and checking social media, all while anxiously waiting for Honey's signal to finally break the monotony of your solitary confinement.

The door creaked open and you looked at who it was not bothering to hide back your phone. 

“This is really not your shade.” Kyoya snickers as he enters the room.

“Laugh all you want.” You sigh. He looked at you as if to say “Oh, I am.”, “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping you from dying of boredom.” He took a seat next to you on the floor. 

“My phone was already doing your job.” You chuckle lightly. 

“You really don’t like Halloween, don’t you?”

"Not really, no," you began, reflecting on your past. "When I was a kid, my parents were so busy with their own lives and jobs that they never had time for Halloween, or even Christmas some years. By the time they started to be more present, I just didn't care that much anymore about the holidays."

Kyoya sighed deeply, and you could see his thoughtful expression as he absorbed the glimpse of your personal history.

As the seconds ticked by, you found yourself pondering why you had shared such a personal memory with Kyoya. It wasn't something you typically opened up about, especially not in the midst of a festive occasion like Halloween. Perhaps it was the quiet and the stillness of the room that had encouraged the spontaneous revelation. Or maybe it was Kyoya's ability to make you feel strangely comfortable discussing your past. Regardless of the reason, you couldn't help but wonder why you had chosen to reveal a part of yourself at that moment.

“Then let’s go.” He said as he grabbed your hand to help you out of your creepy chair.

“Where?” 

“I’m going to show you what’s so fun about it.”

Kyoya led you out of the dimly lit room and into the corridor, your hand still in his firm grip. You followed him through the maze-like hallways of the school, unsure of what to expect.

As you moved stealthily through the school, you couldn't help but have reservations about this endeavor. The idea of scaring people had never really appealed to you, and you had doubts about whether it would be as fun as the others made it out to be. But you trusted Kyoya's judgment, and his air of confidence piqued your curiosity.

The two of you took positions in a dimly lit hallway, concealed behind a corner, waiting for your next victim. Your heart raced as you watched a student approaching, completely unaware of your presence.

In perfect coordination, you and Kyoya executed your plan. As the student drew nearer, you let out a spine-chilling, ghostly wail while Kyoya produced an eerie, spectral light using a concealed flashlight. The student, taken aback and startled, screamed in terror before realizing it was all a prank.

At first, you watched with mixed emotions, uncertain of how the student would react. But as the initial shock and fear gave way to laughter and amusement, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and satisfaction. Giggling uncontrollably, you and Kyoya shared in the joy of the moment.

You and Kyoya ventured further into the school, your Lolita doll costume taking on a new persona with each scare. The initial uncertainty you had felt had given way to a sense of exhilaration and a growing enthusiasm for the Halloween shenanigans.

As you reached a more crowded area of the school, you couldn't resist the temptation to continue your mischief. You spotted a group of students engrossed in conversation and laughter, unaware of your presence. Kyoya nodded at you, signaling that this was your next target.

You approached the group with a silent grace, the ruffled layers of your dress swaying as you moved. As you got closer, you unleashed a spine-tingling, ghostly whisper that seemed to echo through the corridor. Simultaneously, Kyoya, hidden in the shadows, conjured a ghostly blue glow that danced eerily around you.

The students, caught off guard by the sudden otherworldly presence, let out a collective gasp and huddled together in fear. A few of them even dropped their belongings in their fright.

You couldn't help but stifle a giggle as you watched their terrified reactions. Some clutched their hearts, while others playfully scolded each other for overreacting. The initial shock gave way to laughter, and you realized that this was the essence of Halloween – a blend of fear and fun.

One of the students, a young girl, turned to you with a mixture of relief and amusement. "That was a good one! You really got us."

You gave a mischievous curtsy, your creepy Lolita persona adding to the theatrics of the moment. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

As you and Kyoya roamed the dimly lit corridors, you noticed a locked door at the end of a long hallway, illuminated only by the faint light of a flickering overhead bulb. It seemed like the perfect setting for a dramatic and hair-raising Halloween scare.

With a shared nod, you and Kyoya decided to orchestrate a chilling performance. You took your position near the door, hidden in the shadows, your Lolita doll costume transformed into a ghostly and eerie presence.

Kyoya, meanwhile, prepared to unleash his talents. With a quick flourish of his hand, he projected a series of ghostly images on the door, each one more terrifying than the last. The ghostly apparitions danced and flickered, accompanied by spine-tingling whispers that filled the air.

Unsuspecting students rounded the corner and came into view, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. As they approached the locked door, they spotted the ghostly figures and heard the haunting whispers. Panic washed over them, and they let out a chorus of terrified screams.

In their panic, the students stumbled over each other, desperately searching for an escape route. Some of them turned and ran back the way they came, while others frantically pounded on the locked door, pleading for it to open. The once-crowded hallway turned into a scene of chaotic terror.

You and Kyoya couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline as the students fled in sheer panic, their fear evident in their eyes. It was the ultimate Halloween scare, and you had succeeded beyond your wildest expectations.

As the commotion gradually subsided and the corridor returned to a state of calm, you exchanged an exhilarated glance with Kyoya. The dramatic scare had left a lasting impression, and you both couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

You finally got what made this activity so enjoyable, and you couldn't help but share a knowing smile with Kyoya as you continued to haunt the hallways together.

As your Halloween night of spooking students continued, Kyoya approached you with an excited glint in his eyes. "How about a grand finale?" he suggested, a mischievous smile on his face. Curious and eager to embrace the festive spirit, you nodded in agreement. "What do you have in mind?" Kyoya explained his plan, which involved a grand scare that would target none other than the notorious twins with Haruhi. It was an enticing proposition, and you both set off to make it happen.

You ran around the school to find the trio and once you did they were walking to their next trap, you.

You began to move in a slow, puppet-like manner, as if controlled by unseen strings, your joints bending unnaturally, your movements otherworldly. You swayed with an eerie grace, creating an atmosphere of surreal horror.

At the same time, Kyoya cast an illusion of ghostly whispers and phantom shadows that danced around you. The effect was haunting and mesmerizing, and the corridor seemed to take on a life of its own.

The twins and Haruhi watched, transfixed by the chilling performance. Hikaru and Kaoru exchanged uneasy glances, and Haruhi clutched her heart in mock fear.

As the performance reached its climax, you let out another spine-chilling wail, your voice echoing through the corridor. The twins were quite uneasy with you as for Haruhi, she held back a laugh to not mess up your performance. They weren’t moving until you stopped abruptly before sprinting for them, making them run away from you leaving Haruhi alone with you. 

“Too bad I wasn’t convincing enough to scare you.” You laugh with Haruhi.

“I do not scare easily.” She says drying her tears of laughter. Kyoya came out of hiding and applauded you. 

“I didn’t think you’d enjoy yourself that much.” He smiles brightly. A first.

“All thanks to the brains behind the operation.” You applauded him as well.

Later that night as you were taking out your makeup with Renge and Haruhi’s help, the winners were announced by Nekozawa. You were declared the champion of the Tournament!

Gasps of astonishment filled the room as the Host Club members realized the outcome. Hikaru and Kaoru exchanged surprised glances.

"You weren't even participating!" Kaoru exclaimed.

You smirked, "You guys are just sore losers."

Hikaru chimed in, "You're not even a second-year!"

Kyoya, however, simply leaned against a wall with a wry smile. "All I hear is whining from two losers."

You couldn't help but giggle at the banter among your friends, sharing a victorious moment.

After finally shedding the uncomfortable Lolita costume and wiping away the last remnants of makeup, you found yourself alone in the cozy embrace of the music room. The echoes of the Halloween festivities still resonate in your mind, but the overwhelming discomfort of the costume had been left far behind.

Sitting in the dimly lit room, you reflected on the night, your thoughts filled with gratitude for Kyoya. His unexpected and thrilling proposal to embrace the Halloween spirit had transformed a dull evening into a genuinely enjoyable one. You couldn't help but smile as you remembered how he had dragged you into the world of scares and pranks, and in doing so, had shared a unique and memorable experience with you.

The Halloween night had been a perfect blend of fright and fun, of camaraderie and laughter, and it was all thanks to Kyoya's initiative. As you sat in the peaceful music room, you realized that sometimes, the most unexpected and unconventional plans could lead to the best and most cherished memories.

"All hail the champion," a voice echoed in the empty room, and there stood Kyoya, the unexpected partner in your Halloween scare victory.

You couldn't resist a teasing grin. "Only a bow and some praise will do for your champion."

He walked over, the atmosphere filled with a mix of playful competition and genuine camaraderie. His smile was cocky as he leaned against the side of the column.

"So, do I get a prize for helping you win?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a playful challenge.

You responded with a smug grin, "It's my name they announced, not yours, so I'm afraid you don't get anything."

Kyoya leaned in closer, his smile seeming somewhat wistful. "I did help you win, though. I should get something."

With a soft laugh, you placed a hand on his arm and said, "You get the honor of witnessing your fiancé's majestic victory."

The two of you shared a moment of contentment and affection, the playful banter masking the fondness you felt for each other. It was a celebration of your Halloween success and the unique bond you shared.

“I want something else as my prize.” He smirks.

He acted on his impulses, seizing you by the waist and pressing you firmly against the column. His lips met yours with a passionate intensity, a bruising kiss that left you breathless, and you gasped in surprise at the sudden, fervent connection.

His tongue tantalizing teased your bottom lip, seeking entry, and you willingly granted it. Your heads tilted in unison, and one of his hands found its way to the back of your neck, gently bending it to deepen the kiss. A throaty moan escaped your lips as his other hand on your hip squeezed you possessively.

For a brief moment, he pulled back, his breath hot against your skin, and he whispered with a mixture of desire and frustration, "You always manage to pick the worst timing to drive me so, so eager for you."

His lips trailed a scorching path down your cheek, following the delicate curve of your jawline. Each touch was an electric shock of sensation, sending shivers down your spine as the world around you seemed to blur, consumed by the fervent desire shared in this stolen moment.

“Don’t I?” You chuckled briefly. “It just means I’m winning.”

“How so?” He asks not to bother to stop his lips from connecting to your skin. 

“You want to hear my master plan?”

“Do enlighten me.” His soft laugh lights a fire inside your stomach. 

“The more you resist me, the more you want me… Have you noticed how close we’ve become in the last few days?” He stops himself in his tracks to look at you in the eyes with intrigue. “I am winning.”

“Must everything be a competition between the two of us?”

“To get what we both deeply want, it is not an option.”

“And what is it I want?” He smirks as if he could read you all too well. 

“You don’t want to marry me for love and some other reason you refuse to talk about and I don’t want to get married at all, but duty is duty. But you do want me, which makes things complicated for us.” You breathe heavily when his teeth graze the skin of your neck. “So let’s meet in the middle. We can either keep denying each other’s needs and go our separate ways to college hoping to find better matches for us so we both marry for love, duty and what not, or we can give in and have our fun until college and then we find better matches. So you don’t have to marry me and you’ll be out of my hair. Two simple choices, one clearly more fun than the other, but riskier.”

He chuckles when he faces you again. “How so?”

“You’ll fall in love.” No, you would.

“With you?” He chuckles. “You’re pretty to look at, sure, but you get on my nerves too much for me to fall in love.” 

“I gave you our options, it’s your choice. In a way I am not replacing you like you asked.” He crashed his lips to yours, his very own way to seal their deal.

“I won’t lose to you, y/n.” He whispered before his lips met yours once more. 

“Neither will I.” You moan against his lips before you were picked up and carried on one of the pink velvet couches. He pried your pants off gently as his lips were still glued to yours. It was happening… You’d finally have Kyoya the way you wanted him ever since last time he kissed you. 

He moved between your thighs and took his sweet time to kiss and nimble on both of them. 

“You always assume I have better self control than I actually do.” He whispers before taking your underwear off. “I’m no better than any other man when it comes to you.” He smirks before dipping his head between your thighs. You huffed out a loud moan when he licked a stripe up your folds, before plunging his tongue right into your dripping heat. You snatched at his head, pulling his hair as your hips shifted against him— his nose nudging your clit.

He moaned against your cunt— the vibrations making that coil in your stomach tighten. He squeezed your thighs, running his tongue up your folds and swirling it around your clit, repeating this action a few times. You felt like you were in a dream, Kyoya pleasing you as a reward for your victory... or for his own pleasure. It didn't matter, he had accepted your deal and you were more than happy to give in to the tension between the two of you.

You felt yourself drawing tight, a thin sheen of sweat gathering across your bare skin. “Kyoya—” You came with a moan of his name, your hips stuttering against his face. You felt him groan beneath you, tongue working you through your orgasm.

After a long moment, Kyoya hovered over you. You smiled hazily at him. He hummed, pressing his mouth to yours. You couldn't believe what had just happened.

You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. You hummed a response, too busy stroking his cheek, feeling your own arousal sticky on your fingers. He pulled back briefly. “I won’t lose to you.” He repeated like it was an oath and you believed him for a split second.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬

✧ @gay-noble @vanicogh @hopeless-romanticnamed-s @idktbhloley @p1nkliquor @hellokittykuroo @batboob @kisskissshutmydoor @lemonrolls @hoku-killer @sunukissed @jessiegerl @lunalily19 @i7zha @asrainterstellar @arimoony24 @simp-lythebest @fan-g0rl​ @randobeetlehouse​​ @glomp-me @yeeyeebabe @maackiimoo @kaelysian @noendingtolove @luminaaz @thewendyslogo @eri0-0 @arielbillyboy16 @aangsupremacy​ @yuriklol​ @lillunna @lostsomewhereinthegarden @chocorenchin @sukcama @bratb1tch @topmeyelena

[accessibleaesthetics]

Very Silly Concept: a show called "Accessibility Nightmares" but it's structured exactly like Kitchen Nightmares. An accessibility specialist goes to different establishments and helps them make their businesses more accessible.

The accessibility specialist asks why the door at the top of the small set of stairs has a wheelchair symbol on it. The owner replies that's the accessible bathroom. The camera zooms in on the specialist as they process this information.

A customer with a service dog comes in to a restaurant. The hostess tells them they don't allow dogs. The accessibly specialist looks over at the hostess like

And there are web accessibility episodes too. The accessibility specialist stares at the white text on the light pink background of the home page like

The specialist asks why not a single product picture has alt text, and the business owner says "Well I mean, it's makeup, why would a blind person be shopping for makeup?" The specialist just

The specialist asks the web designer how a screen reader user is supposed to complete the captcha portion of the password reset process when there is no audio alternative. The designer admits they don't know.

[lazypiechi]

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza - Valentine's Special

Romance is in the air and a certain yakuza is keen to teach you all about Valentine's traditions in Japan. Word Count: 4.2k Male Yandere x Fem Reader Mini Sequel to Yandere! Yakuza

As a hostess, you've been looking forward to Valentine's Day. Guests are notorious for spending big and tipping even bigger when romance is in the air.

One problem though. Your yakuza boyfriend does not approve.

"You don't have to work on Valentine's. My Family owns the club. I should get a say."

You ignore his complaining and the arms wrapped around your waist. You're focused on your makeup and no handsome, dangerous yakuza is going to distract you.

He changes tactics. "Onegaiya de? [Please?] Pretty please?"

You sigh and reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "Of course I want to stay home with you. But I need money. If you've forgotten, my brother still owes you. And besides, the house mother told me to come in today."

He frowns. "Naze? [Why?]"

"I'm very good at my job, that's why."

You manage to finish both your lashes and your lipstick before he speaks up again.

"Kurabu ni issho ni ikimasu. [I'm coming with you to the club.]"

You aren't surprised. It seems like he spends all his free time as your customer. As though being in a relationship isn't enough. As though he wants to have you both during and after work.

You turn and plant a kiss on his cheek. You leave behind a lipstick mark that he's in no hurry to wipe off. "If you want to spend all your money on me, I'm definitely not going to complain."

He grins in that lazy way of his and loops his arms fully around your waist. "Anata wa watashi no kanojodesu [you're my girl]. Who else would I spend my cash on?"

He drives you to work with one hand on your thigh. It gives you butterflies - the warmth of his skin bleeding through the fabric of your dress, the way he sometimes squeezes the meat of your leg like he subconsciously wants to remind himself that you're still there.

When he opens the car door for you, he brushes his lips past your ear. "Got a real nice surprise for you later."

You stop and pretend to fix your heels so you can look up at him through your lashes. "Is it the same surprise as last time? Because I loved that one."

Big, scary guy that he is, you think you can still see him swallow and freeze when you look up at him like that. He takes you hand and steadies you but the eyes that trace over your body are hooded, unreadable. "Not what I had in mind this time, no."

He inhales sharply when you step past him and 'accidentally' brush your hand over his belt.

"Too bad," you say, "I love that thing you do with your tongue."

It takes him a second to catch up with you. When he does, he wraps his arm around your waist and hisses in your ear.

"Anta, ijiwaruya na. [You unbearable tease]."

You can't help but smile. Personally, you'd describe yourself as an unbearable, romantic tease. It being Valentine's and all.

You're honestly looking forward to spending your shift with him. Even though he's started calling himself your kareshi, he still doesn't talk about himself much. You're not offended by it. There are a thousand little ways you've pieced together his past. The way he likes his sake hot and the way he turns his nose up at high end sushi, the way he holds his cigarette when he smokes and the way he can flick a match on his thumb. It all tells you a bit more than he'd probably like you to know. And each date you go on, each shift that he spends entirely focused on you, is just another opportunity for you to untangle the mystery that is your yakuza.

Unfortunately, the boss has other plans. You don't even get a chance to sit down before one of the other enforcers pulls him aside. He frowns at whatever the man is saying and then quickly presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Gomen ya de, daisukinahito. Shigotoya nen. [Sorry love. Gotta work]."

He's out the door before you can even object. The house mother narrows in on your table and less than a minute later she has a client seated across from you. She's built a habit of trying to cram as many customers into your schedule as possible when your boyfriend isn't around to steal you away. You can almost admire her dedication.

The first client of the night is a salaryman already happily flushed with drink. He tips you well, buys you several rounds of expensive drinks and gives you a drunken kiss on the cheek before he leaves. A very typical Valentine's date.

You get through a few more without any issues. Mostly businessmen not willingly to go home to an empty apartment. Your wallet gets noticeably fatter after each one. It's long past midnight when things finally go sour.

You're touching up your lipstick when the yakuza walk through the door. You can tell what they are at first glance. And worse, you know these aren't the usual guys.

You expect trouble. You aren't sure when you developed an instinct for yakuza business, but you know that the newcomers most definitely aren't part of the Family.

You try and watch them as subtly as you can. One of the regular enforcers goes up to meet them and - surprisingly - leads them to the back of the club.

The group passes right next to you. You keep your eyes on your compact and lipstick like you've never seen anything quite so interesting as YSL Loveshine. At the last second you look up, and straight into the eyes of a bleached blonde gangster with a mean smile. He must have been looking at you already, because he shoots you a playboy wink.

On instinct, you bow your head. Even if they weren't your Family, it wasn't a good idea to be caught lacking in respect.

When they're finally gone, you sigh in relief. Talk about scary. Those guys looked like their favourite pastime was baseball; the faces and knee cap variety.

You're about to get up and take your break when something makes you look over your shoulder. The blonde yakuza is leaning against the wall just outside the staff-only door. And looking straight at you.

Oh, please not today. You already have one yakuza in your bed and almost constantly blowing up you phone. You want absolutely nothing to do with Mr Tall, Blonde and Evil.

No such luck. He says something to the enforcer next to him and beelines towards you. Eyes locked on yours.

He slides in next to you - not across where a client would normally sit. You shift over to make room for him and wonder if there's something in the water that makes you particularly noticeable to men with a nicotine and tattoo addiction.

"Omae, jitto mi teruyan ka. Na n ya, kiniitta n kai, kawaī ko. [I noticed you staring. Like what you see, pretty girl?]"

His voice is raspier than your boyfriend's. And meaner too.

You can just...pretend to not speak Japanese. But one look at the blond's sharp, lazy smile tells you he'll know you for a liar the second you open your mouth.

"Omaeni mo onaji ko to kiitē wa, ikemen-san. [I could ask you the same thing, pretty boy.]"

He laughs, "She's got an attitude! Not scared of a big, scary yakuza?"

"Are you supposed to be telling me that about yourself?" You lean your chin on your palm and tilt your head. "What if I'm a cop?"

"Then you can put me in handcuffs right now." He let's his eyes roam down your body. "I'll happily do whatever you want, officer."

Okay. Pervert yakuza number two added to your collection. Could you get out of this somehow? A client is a client but you don't want to be next to him any longer than necessary.

"Don't you want a girl who can speak Japanese? I'm still not very good."

"What I want? We won't really be talking if we do what I want."

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lights one with an easy flick of his lighter. He inhales deeply and let's the smoke out of his nose, like a dragon.

"You got a boyfriend?"

That really does seem to be the first question these guys ask you. What happened to 'how are you?' and 'here's a fat stack of cash, do you want it?'

"Yes." You shrug, like this is just a casual conversation with another client and not a rival with a gun under his suit jacket. "He's part of the Family."

"Wakatta wa. [I see]." He offers you a pull of his cigarette. You almost decline, but you look into his eyes - a dark hazel - and realise what a bad idea that would be.

He holds your gaze as he presses the cigarette against your lips. You pull on it as lightly as you can, the tip flaring a bright orange.

It burns your throat and you turn away from him to cough out the smoke. God, that stuff is awful. Why the hell is your man always lighting one if this is what they taste like?

When you turn back to him, the yakuza is studying the cigarette. Your lipstick left a stain on the filter. Slowly, he brings it to his lips and covers the place where your own lips were. He pulls in deeply and tilts his head back, eyes closed.

"Sweeter than normal," he breathes.

Nope. Nope. Nope. It's flattering really, but you aren't an idiot. You don't want your boyfriend's rival sitting so close to you, you don't want him looking at you with eyes like liquid honey and you most definitely don't want him calling you sweet.

If you could telepathically summon your boyfriend, you would. Unfortunately, he's busy with whatever it is they took him off to do, and you're stuck making conversation with a man who's arm keeps inching tighter and tighter around your shoulders.

You try to stand up and excuse yourself, but he wraps a palm around your thigh and pulls you back down without even trying.

"I need to pee," you tell him. He grins, cigarette casting his features in shadow.

"Perfect. I'm really thirsty."

Alright then. Ultimate host club perv discovered. It's almost a relief. You were worried your boyfriend would continue to hold that unenviable title.

You're about to say something - probably along the lines of it would go down even better with a vodka chaser - when your boyfriend finally arrives. You can tell it's him by the way he let's the door almost slam shut behind him. (You've tried working on that but every time you bring it up, he just says that you're so cute when you're bossy and won't you please take that tone with him later tonight?)

The blonde must have followed your line of sight, because his grip gets just a little tighter on you. "That your boyfriend?"

He's already heading toward your table and his frown spells trouble.

"Yep." You wonder if the blonde would listen to you if you tried to warn him away. You doubt it.

Your yakuza's hair is messy and his sleeves are still rolled to his elbows. He must have come straight from whatever job he got called away for.

He stops right in front of you, his arms crossed.

"Times up," he says simply. "Her shift is over."

The blonde takes another pull from his cigarette. "This your girl?"

Your boyfriend tenses, "Un. Kanojo wa watashi no monodesu. [Yeah. She's mine]."

You can almost feel the room getting colder. Your boyfriend flicks his eyes at the other yakuza standing at the back of the club.

"What are you doing here?"

"Boss had business with your side of things. Said I could throw back. Sample the goods." Blondie runs his palm up your thigh. "I'd have risked coming over ages ago, if I knew you had such cute pieces."

Your boyfriend narrows his eyes. "Times. Up. She's got another date waiting."

The blonde yakuza makes a show of looking at his wristwatch. "Looks like I've still got five more minutes."

"Your watch is late." Every word is bitten off and curt. You've seen him serious before, but never like this. Is this what he's like when he's working?

It's easy to forget his job when he's sprawled in your bed with his head on your chest, muttering about letting him sleep for five more minutes. It's easy to forget that he's a gangster who breaks faces for a living. That he's dangerous.

After tonight, you don't think you'll ever forget that fact. It's terrifying to be across from him, even if his glare isn't directed at you.

The moment stretches - taut, awfully tense. Finally, the blonde breaks.

"Tch. I've got shit to do anyway."

He stands up - and just when you're about to sigh in relief - kisses you right on the mouth. You jerk backwards, more surprised than anything else.

He straightens and runs his fingers over his lips. "Even sweeter than I thought."

You scramble out of the booth and grab your boyfriend's arm before he can do anything stupid. The muscles under your palms are already coiled tight and you're terrified to see what might happen if that strength is unleashed.

You bow in a quick, half hearted way. "O jikan o itadaki arigatōgozaimasu. [Thank you for your time]."

And then you're dragging your man out of the club before he can muster any objections.

It's only when the cold February wind is kissing your cheeks that you dare to look over at him. He's looking back at the club, eyes narrowed.

"How long?" he asks quietly.

"Barely even ten minutes," you half lie. "Really. He didn't do anything until you showed up, I promise."

You tug at his hand. "It's late. Let's go home, please?"

He finally looks at you, eyes flat and face blank. That scares you even worse than if he was frothing at the mouth and swearing.

"Alright," he says mechanically, "Let's go home."

Usually you take the train to work or he drives you. So when he starts walking, you don't immediately realise the streets are all wrong. His car is nowhere to be seen.

Even though Spring isn't that far off, this late at night the city is still icy. You wrap your arms around yourself and it doesn't take him long to notice.

"Koko. Kore o kite kudasai. [Here. Wear this]." He pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it across your shoulders. It smells like him - cologne and cigarettes. You aren't sure when, but at some point that scent became the one you associated with safety, with home.

It's quiet. You can't exactly ask him what work he did while he was gone and you most definitely aren't going to mention the club again.

He's the one who finally breaks the silence. "Purezento o moraimashita. [I got you a present]."

He did mention that earlier.

"Can I guess what it is?"

That earns you a half smile."Mochiron. [Sure]."

"Chocolate."

"No. Not this time."

"Hmm... Flowers?"

"They make you sneeze."

True. But what else would he have bought you for Valentine's?

"A puppy?"

He doesn't immediately reply. Eventually, "I really didn't think about that one. Do you...want a puppy?"

You first instinct is to say yes. Who wouldn't want a puppy? Despite having him, your brother, and your friends from the club, Japan is still a lonely place for you. A puppy would remind you of home.

But it would also make Japan your new home. In a way you aren't sure you want. In your mind, it still feels like you'll leave soon, be gone next week or next month, when this debt issue is settled. Even your boyfriend feels temporary. This isn't your country.

"No," you say eventually, "Not yet."

He must be thinking along the same lines as you because at your reply, his smile thins and he looks away from you.

"Nande ya, ano ko ni inu demo kattaro ka. Muriyari ore to ora setaru wa. [Shoulda got her a damn puppy. Force her to stay with me]."

You don't understand Japanese well enough to understand him when he changes his dialect. He manages a smile.

"Not a puppy either. Do you give up?"

You hate losing. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself. "...Yeah I give up."

He slows to a stop."Mewotojite. [Close your eyes]."

He takes your hand in his and lays something in your palm. You open your eyes to see a diamond necklace on a bed on midnight blue velvet. And it's definitely diamond - even in the neon soaked streets of the Red Light District, it sparkles. You gasp.

You're almost scared to touch it. It looks beyond expensive. Like something you pass in a store window and tell yourself maybe someday.

"You like it?"

You look up at him, eyes wide. "It's incredible. I've never... I've never owned something this beautiful."

He looks beyond smug. He plucks it out of the box and in one smooth move has it around your throat. His fingers brush the nape of your neck as he fastens the clip.

If you were on you own, you'd never dare to wear it out on the street. But only a colossal idiot would try and grab it off your neck when there was an armed yakuza right next to you. You shouldn't feel safer in the company of a criminal, but you do. God help you, you do.

He presses a kiss against your temple."Watashi no gārufurendo ni totte saikō no mono dake.[Only the best for my girl]."

It scares you a little - how much he's willing to spend on you. How are you supposed to repay a gift like this?

"Ie ni kaerimashou.[Let's go home]," he coos in your ear.

You laugh and loop your arm through his. "Want me to show you exactly how much I love my gift?"

"Yes." His voice is low and almost strained. "God yes."

It's only when you're halfway down the street that you remember you have something for him too.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" you spin away from him and dig through your handbag. "Ta-da! A hostess at work was telling me that it's usually the girls who give gifts on Valentine's."

You hand over the chocolate you bought him. It's a thick slab with Turkish delight in the centre. You've stuck a plethora of pink and red hearts to the box, each one with a sappy little quote in the centre.

You feel a little silly giving a gift like this to a yakuza of all people. But you also want to do something for your boyfriend, even if it is sickeningly romantic.

You picked up on him liking Turkish delight when your brother bought you a box, and it was mysteriously empty when you got home that day. Your yakuza claimed he didn't touch it, but he tasted suspiciously like rose candy when you kissed him.

He takes it from you carefully. "For me?"

You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

He's quiet for a moment or two, looking at you like he just can't understand you. Finally, he pulls you into him and buries his face in your neck. He takes a deep breath, but when he speaks his voice is just a bit unsteady.

"Of course I'll be yours. Ore wa zutto omae no mon'ya de. [I'll always be yours.]"

A man with a rap sheet as long as a CVS receipt, and somehow he's yours.

You pull him closer against you. "Thank you. For taking care of me. For helping me out when you had no reason to."

He hums quietly against your neck. "Nan demo surude, honma ni nan demo. [I'll do anything for you. Anything]."

He pulls away and something in his face tells you he's just had an idea. He peels the hearts off the box and carefully folds them into his pocket. He breaks off a piece of chocolate and holds it up to your mouth.

You're immediately suspicious of the smirk on his face, but you oblige and let him prop the chocolate between your lips. He leaves a piece sticking out of your mouth and before you can bite it off, he leans forward and does it for you. His hand slips around the nape of your neck to keep you still.

His lips barely brush yours.

He pulls away looking extremely satisfied. You've kissed him so many times already but your heart doesn't care. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears.

"Sweet," he runs his thumb across your bottom lip and then presses it against his tongue. "Just how I like it."

Damn him for a devil and a half. It's so totally unfair how giddy and nervous he makes you feel.

He nods at the building behind you. "Good thing we're already home."

"Home?" Is this his apartment? He never brings you to his apartment.

He leads you to the elevator and to your surprise has to use a key card to access the highest floor. The buildings in this part of town are cramped for space but when the elevator dings open, it does so in a broad corridor lined with heavy doors. He must be earning much more than you realised, to have a place like this.

He pauses on the threshold.

"Gotta carry you in. It's tradition."

"Only if we're newlyweds."

"Not true," He blatantly lies, hands drifting down your back. "Brings you luck for the rest of the year."

Before you can object, he sweeps his arm under your knees and scoops you up bridal style.

"Risuku wa toritakunai de. Un wa zenbu hoshī wa. [Not taking any chances. I want all the luck I can get]."

You don't get to see much of his loft-style apartment before he drops you on his bed. One knee already pressing into the mattress next to your waist.

He drops his head down to kiss the column of your throat.

"You'll be wearing nothing except your necklace when I'm done with you," he promises, voice already dropping to a slurred, needy growl.

Oh my. That's a new one. And you always took him for the lacy lingerie type.

You tug at his shirt but with one twist of his hand, he catches both your wrists. "No. You first."

"Impatient aren't we?"

His hands are already skimming down your back and unzipping your dress.

"Oh you have no idea how patient I'm being."

His lips dip past your collarbones and then lower still. You arch against his chest, breathless.

At the last second he pulls away. You practically whine.

"Move in with me."

You blink. "What?" Is he really asking you this while you're in your bra and panties? And when there are much better things to do with his mouth?

"You heard me. Maiban beddoni ite hoshī. [I want you in my bed everynight]."

You frown. Wouldn't it be dangerous? More dangerous than working in a yakuza club and sharing his bed already was?

His grip on you tightens. He isn't smiling anymore. "You're my girl. You should stay with me. Not your brother. And sure as hell not on your own."

"I-"

He slides down your body until his head is between your thighs. "Good. I'll get someone to move your things tomorrow."

"Wait, I didn't say -" He does something with his tongue that makes you gasp and arch your back.

"No more objections?" he mocks. You're too breathless to answer.

"Ēyan. Kikitakatta kotoya wa. [Good. Just what I want to hear]."

He's awake long before sunrise. You're still curled under his sheets, lovebites littered across your neck.

He didn't give you a chance to notice them last night, but there's a bouquet of roses waiting for you on the nightstand.

He leans in the balcony door, cigarette smoke curling between his teeth. Just watching you.

His girl. His to touch. His to have. His to hold and keep.

Do you have any idea how lucky you are that it was him you ran into that night? If it was anyone else sent to collect your brother's debt, they'd have just left you to drown under the mountain of interest. Let it get so bad that you couldn't possibly pay your way out and then offer you a job at a soapland. Hell, that was his plan too when he first laid eyes on you. Pretty thing like you would have made a fortune as a yūjo.

But then you went and made him fall for you. It's selfish of him to want you. He knows it's dangerous to have you on his arm. That blonde bastard from last night was proof enough. He knows, and still...

You can't expect a criminal to be selfless. You can't show him something precious and expect him to let it go.

"My girl." He exhales a cloud of smoke and leans his head back. "Gonna make you my wife someday. You just don't know it yet."

[i-like-loserz]

honey, baby

synopsis: san needs your attention

pairing: husband!san x afab!reader

warnings: SMUT (18+), jealousy, handjob, begging, teasing, sub!san, dacryphilia, pet-names, house-wife!reader, messy endings, light marking kink, reader does not get off..., not proof-read :0

word count: 2.5k

note: i'm sorry, we all need some sub!san in our lives... right...

masterlist

How delicate his hand is, adorned handsomely with understated rings, pressing gently against the small of your back as he leads you through the room. Artificial chatter, decorated with an occasional bout of posh laughter, settles finely above the jazz playing in the background. 

Your heels click softly against the marble flooring, each step lining up perfectly with his. 

Together, you’re a vision of excellence. 

San is the man that everyone wants. The definition of a gentleman. He’s charming, polite, and patient. But also unbelievably beautiful. He comes from a background of old money, but his legacy never stopped him from looking elsewhere for love.

Then there’s you. A woman who can blend into any crowd, disarming even the most stuck-up aristocrat with an easy smile. No one knows where you came from, but they don’t really care – or rather, they stopped caring once they realized how easily San would drop them for bothering you. 

The two of you act as the personification of refined love. 

Modest, refined, and lovely. Rarely sharing even a single kiss in front of an audience. 

San nods to a few guests as he passes them, politely acknowledging their existence, but never making a move to engage with them. He exudes this aura of cool confidence – as if every breath he takes is calculated and perfected. This way, no one ever questions his decisions or fights his whims…not like you anyway.

The wine glass in your hand has a bare sip of red left in it. The rim is spotted with the seductive print of your lips, reflecting the small tastes you took throughout the night to keep yourself relatively sober.

You would have gone for another but a heated whisper, pressed exquisitely against the edge of your ear, drew away any thoughts of humoring your husband’s guests. You settle it gently on a counter, no longer needing the prop of a hostess. 

San’s leading hand presses more insistently against back with each step he takes. His breaths grow deeper, his body draws closer. 

Usually, he’s able to wait until the party ends – watching you with dark eyes as you see the last of the crowd off, thanking them for visiting with that polite smile you’ve perfected. You’re so good to him, putting up with the lifestyle he was born into and taking the role of the perfect housewife and hostess that pays attention to every need her guests have.  

But now, San needs your attention to be directed at him. 

—

He broke while you were in the middle of a conversation with somebody’s plus one. And San knows he was a plus one because he didn’t recognize the man…or his name…or his “successful tech” company. 

He’s not usually a jealous man, but something about this guy…

San was sitting next to you, charming yet another investor of his father’s business, when he heard a low voice speaking to his beautiful wife, “Please, call me Yunho, Mr. Jeong is my father.” 

It peeved him.

You laughed politely, displaying your easy going nature by complying with his wish, repeating his first name before offering your own. San bristled at the sound of another man’s name coming from your lips. 

Who even is this guy? 

There were no Jeongs on the guestlist – and he would know, he’s the one who checks off on that stuff. This is a business party, not some get together that can be crashed so unpleasantly by an overnight millionaire like him.

The investor he was once trying to woo was getting pulled into a different conversation. And thank god for that. He wouldn’t have been much fun to talk to when he’s distracted like this anyway. 

San took that as an opportunity to turn his body toward yours. He watched intently as you continued your friendly interaction with a handsome stranger – who seems to be leaning closer with every pretty word you speak. 

You looked effortlessly beautiful as you rambled about the recent trip he took you on, excitedly describing your favorite restaurants with that familiar brightness in your eyes. He’s suddenly longing to hold your hand right then and there, to pull you onto his lap and nuzzle his face against the crook of your neck. 

His hand moved before he could think about it, gently brushing over your forearm to get your attention. When you turned to look at your husband, the man in front of you retreated from his slow shift into your space, suddenly uneasy by how San was staring him down. 

“Honey?”

At the sound of your voice, he shifted his attention from the offending man to you, the tension in his shoulders easing at the affectionate pet-name. San rounded his eyes innocently, softening his expression. 

“Baby…” He said timidly in a bare whisper, fully knowing that that name was strictly off-limits in public. You raise a questioning eyebrow, wondering what made your husband so needy all of the sudden.

“San.”

San leaned closer to you, a hand slowly shifting from the velvet couch to the top of your thigh. The guests continued to bustle around the two of you, unaware of the sudden tension settling between you. You let him push closer until his lips barely brush against ear.

“Pay attention to me…”

—

You’ve never left your own party early. You have actually trained yourself to have the same amount of energy greeting the guests as you do leading them out. The party doesn't end until you've seen everyone out.

So will anyone really notice a scant 15 minutes of your absence?

Well, you hope not. 

San couldn’t even make it to the bedroom. Instead, he pulled you into an oversized laundry room at the end of the hall, sliding the door shut before you could protest about being too close to the party.

“Sannie, wait.” 

Your words are lost to the air. 

He’s already pressing desperate, hot kisses against your throat. His broad body effectively pins you to the door as his hands, itching to undress you, drag over your soft curves covered by the fine fabric of your dress. Eager fingers grope over your tits before settling delicately around the base of your neck.

His suit jacket rests in a heap on the floor, leaving him in his unbuttoned vest and wrinkled dress shirt – a view you’d love to devour if not for the people who stand on the other side of the door. 

“Maybe we should stop –” 

“I can’t, I-I need you, baby.” He’s begging you – each word pathetically whined out from his pouty lips. “Need you close to me.”

“What if they notice that we’re both gone? What if they come looking?”

Pitiful moans are pressed onto your skin as he helplessly grasps at your body, scared that you’d leave him wanting and overwhelmed by his need to feel you against him.

At this point, San wouldn’t care if the whole party saw him fucking you against the dining table – least of all that Yunho guy. He doesn’t care if they can hear him whining for you, begging you to let him fill you up like he does every night. He wants to show you off, hold open your cum soaked thighs just to show them that you love him and he’s your good boy. 

But at the same time, letting anyone see you like that irks him like nothing else. You’re his and he’s yours.

“Please.” He implores, eyes glistening with a needy look. He gently takes your hand and leads it to where he needs you the most. You give in easily, pressing against his cock which strains against his perfectly tailored trousers. He’s already throbbing from the faint sensation of your touch. 

“Please…?” You tease under your breath, now fully gripping the shape of him through the layers of his clothes. He watches the way your hand moves over him with a dazed look, appreciating the way your small hand looks, fisting his clothed cock with glazed eyes.

You squeeze him abruptly, nudging him for an answer and he responds with a surprised whine, his hips jerking up against you from the intense sensation.  

“Please t-touch me.” 

“I am, baby.”

His dark eyebrows pinch in frustration, “You know what I mean.”

You hum understandingly, slowly unzipping his pants as you taunt him.

“You’re so needy…” 

He sighs as you pull down his briefs along with the restricting fabric of his pants. His thick cock slaps against his covered stomach, flushed prettily in a deep shade of pink, gently weeping pre-cum at the tip. Everything about San is pretty – especially the enamoured way he stares down at you with his signature pouty lips and flushed cheeks.

Eyes locked with his, you idly run a finger against his bare hip, so close to where he wants you to touch. He stutters out a shaky breath, his body shivering from the delicate sensation.

“K-kiss me.” He cups your jaw and moves impossibly closer to you. Your chest meets his as he holds you close, his hips pressing his hard cock against your body. He dips down to hover his soft lips over yours, “...Please.” He adds in a whisper – drenched in desperation. 

As if you could ever deny him.

“You’re cute…” You whisper back before pressing your lips onto his. 

You feel him immediately melt against you, his cock twitching eagerly against your stomach as he finally tastes you on his tongue. You hope he doesn't notice how you subtly rub your thighs together, an attempt to relieve the ache between them.

Your hands drift from resting on his chest to tangle in his hair, tugging gently at the ends, if only to hear that breathless whine that you adore. 

As you draw away for a breath, you notice a smear of red messily decorating his lips. He doesn’t seem to care though, looking down at a similar mess on your lips with a heated gaze.

You can tell that he’s imagining the same stain at the base of his cock. San has a thing for marks, especially because it’s you who’s leaving them. 

You lift up his dress shirt before pressing the palm of your hand against his aching erection, drawing a cute whimper from him. His stomach flexes from the sudden coolness of the air touching his heated skin.

Oh, how you want to lick over each defined ab, make him cry out from your teasing before biting into the firmness of his stupidly broad chest – but you don’t have time for that right now.

“Look at you,” You wrap your hand around him and slowly start to jerk him off, “almost about to cum from some kissing.” San bites his bottom lip to keep his moans down as your thumb repeatedly rubs over the edge of his sensitive tip. 

“C-can’t help it, you taste s-so good.” His hips thrust eagerly against your hand, cock generously leaking as he feels himself already approaching the edge.

Your wrist moves in quick, practiced motions, slick noises filling the space between you. You can't help but dip your other hand under his dress shirt, feeling up his perfect body with the edge of your nails to make him tremble.

“I'll let you taste more tonight if you cum for me like a good boy."

San nods eagerly, but you can tell by that hazy look in his eye that he'd agree to jump off from the second floor balcony if you asked him.

You can tell that he's getting close by the way he's bucking into your slippery fist, whines growing louder and more desperate. It almost looks like he's about to cry as he stares down at the way your hand is wrapped so perfectly around his throbbing cock.

“About to c-cum,” he pants, eyes glistening sweetly. "F-ffuck, baby… Y-you’re s-so good to me. Don’t want it to get on you, though, and ruin your pretty dress.”

"No?" You tease as you watch him struggle to move a mere inch away, hips still thrusting in want. How cute. His eyes squeeze shut at your honeyed tone, knowing you were going to make it harder for him to back away. "You don't want to see me covered in your pretty mess?"

"Nnghh~" You watch him scramble to hold off his orgasm, legs shaking as his hands grip your waist tightly to ground himself. "please -- !"

You finally let him make some space between you, finding it adorable that even in this state, he's worried about protecting you from the people outside.

You give him one last squeeze, fingers brushing over his dripping tip before whispering: "Okay, baby~ Cum for me."

And he does. Oh, how he makes a mess of himself.

His broad shoulders shake as he curls his body into himself, head dipped while spilling out the most pathetic breathy whines against the top of your shoulder.

His hips shake sporadically as each rope of cum covers your hand, dripping miraculously over his lap and onto his once perfectly-pressed pants. Somehow, he stayed true to his word. Not a drop touched your dress.

"Good boy..."

He groans as you milk him with a tight fist, body shuddering from the overstimulation. Your other hand soothes him, rubbing gently over his stomach as he moves through his high.

---

San's panting, leaning against the washing machine with a fucked-out look on his face. He pulled his briefs back on, opting to leave the pants unbuttoned and barely hanging onto his hips.

At this point, it would be better for him to change – his pants are stained with drops of cum, his shirt is wrinkled and stretched out, his hair has been fluffed into a mess. 

Maybe you should just tell everyone that he wasn’t feeling well…

You press a light peck to the side of his flushed neck before moving away from him in a hurry. You wash your hands in the small sink at the corner of the room and find a few tissues to take off your ruined lipstick and any residual sweat. 

You try to fix your hair to look decent – though there is no mirror to really check – and smooth out your dress. Thankfully, San only made a mess of himself (at least, visually). You were planning to slip into a bathroom on the way to the parlor anyway. 

“Ok, baby.” You throw the tissues away before turning back to your husband. His eyes are still half-lidded with lust, watching how easily you go back to being the refined woman from earlier this evening. “Clean yourself up, I’m going back out. I’ll tell them you’re feeling under the weather.” 

“You’re so beautiful.” His raspy voice is endearing. 

You feel your cheeks heating up at the compliment. You try to stamp it down, try to stay composed, but he always knows what to say to make you feel this way. 

“You are beautiful, baby.” You respond with a gentle smile, walking back to him to give him one last kiss. One turns into many. He shyly smiles back, his dimples deepening as you scatter more kisses around his face.

“Wish me luck out there.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair to reduce the fluffiness. 

“Come back to me soon, okay?”

“Anything for you, my love.”