#this man’s sense of style is immaculate

[empyrealbiscuit]

Hi! It’s empyrealbiscuit, the world’s nosiest username.

Guuueeeessssss who finally started watching Our Flag Means Death? Me! It’s pretty great so far, so you know that I had to draw The Gentleman Pirate himself. I’m on episode four, and (although I know things are gonna get a lot sadder in the season finale) this is a really fun show!

[back2bluesidex]

Girl Crush - MYG

Part of my Milestone Drabble Request Game. Find the request here.

Read the follow-up drabble, Afterglow.

Pairing: Husband!Yoongi X Wife!Reader

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au, arrange marriage au

Wordcount: 1.5k+

Summary: It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at.

Based on Girl Crush by Harry Styles (Cover).

Warnings: unhappy marriage, unrequited love, yoongi loves someone else. this is very painful.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: I had this idea sitting on my head for a long time now. Thanks to @jimintaemin for requesting this and giving me a chance of writing this. This is very angsty just as you wanted. Hope you like this. Hit me back with your feedback!:)

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

“I assume you already know that this is a marriage of convenience, a negotiation between two companies. And I hope you will not expect anything from me. As long as it’s about responsibilities, I am okay with those. But don’t expect anything more.” Min Yoongi had said, cold and stoic, as if not conversing but stating some flat facts related to stock prices. 

He was not wrong. Whatever he had said are indeed facts and there was nothing you didn’t already know.

So you stood there, standing as still as a porcelain doll, ready to fall and break at any given moment. 

“And just so you know… I have someone.” he finished, diverting his eyes from you even though he never really looked at you properly. 

Although you were glad that he didn’t. You were more than happy that he didn’t witness tears rolling down your face, gathering below your chin and dropping down at the immaculate fabric of your wedding gown. 

Do tears leave stains? You hoped that was not the case. 

It’s not that you pictured a fairytale married life for you. You know arranged marriages come with more cons than pros. You knew you would have to pay the price.. but at the same time you had no choice. You were even more reluctant to do anything because it was him. 

It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at. 

It was foolish for you to expect a man of his stature would not have someone to love, to be loved by. And it was even more foolish for you to think, you can be his wife, a real one.. and lead a life with him. 

However, now you know it’s impossible. And the realization made you feel helpless, caged and broken. 

“I won’t expect anything, I promise, but in return… Can we at least be friends? It will make things easy for both of us.” you’d uttered upon managing your voice and emotions. 

Only then he looked at you, like really looking at you with a small smile playing on his lips, he’d said “sure.”  

That was the moment you realized you had a girl crush. And it was the woman who managed to make Yoongi, your husband, fall in love. 

“I got it real bad.. Want everything she has That smile and that midnight laugh.. She's giving you now.” 

You thought, you would be angry. You thought every possible darkness would cover your senses, when you’d meet her for the first time. 

But wrong… you were. 

You had so many prejudices about this woman and you hated her with every drop of blood your body owns but all of it evaporated in thin air when she smiled at you standing right at your and yoongi’s door. 

She is beautiful, she is kind, she is loveable… and maybe everything else you can’t ever be. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I never thought I was going to see Yoongi ever again.” she’d murmured as she stood close to you in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you three. 

You had stared into her eyes then.. Trying to find mockery and a hint of brazen victory telling you, “you’re only his paper wife. I own his heart.” 

But again.. Again you were disappointed. 

In her eyes, there was no mockery, no pretense, no dishonesty.. Rather only understanding and kindness. Only then you understood why Yoongi loves her so much. 

Why will it never be you and always be her.  

That night as you stood at the balcony, enjoying the stinging sensation cold wind brought to you, you heard them laughing.

It was the first time you heard Min Yoongi laughing. Even though faint and muffled, you could still sense his happiness through the sound. 

Min Yoongi was finally happy... for the first time since the wedding ceremony... and you were not the reason. 

All of a sudden, you were jealous again, even though you were not sure if you had the right or not. 

“I want to taste her lips… Yeah, 'cause they taste like you I want to drown myself… In a bottle of her perfume”

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you invited her to your and Yoongi’s honeymoon. 

Both of your and his parents have been pestering you to set out for the trip. You have been using excessive workload as the excuse and you assumed Yoongi to do the same.

But a week ago, everything went south when Yoongi had a fight with his father. As a result, flights were booked, accommodations were chosen and you two were notified only two days prior. 

That night, Yoongi didn’t come back home. And when he did, he didn’t speak a single word to you. 

The visible frown on his forehead and the cold aura that oozed from him, made you want to make him smile, made you invite his lover to the trip secretly.  

She was already there when you two reached and you will never forget Yoongi’s reaction when he realized what was happening. 

The grumpy cold Yoongi broke into gummy smiles and giggles as soon as he saw her. They kissed right in front of your eyes and you silently cried. 

Oh how you wish, you could taste him too. How you wish, he would hold you like that, caress you like that. 

How you wish… he would love you like that. 

“I want her long blond hair… I want her magic touch Yeah, 'cause maybe then… You'd want me just as much”

 “Babe, could you please turn your head a little? Yes.. yes just like that.” 

You watched the man as he clicked photos after photos of the woman he loves, seemingly trying to document her beauty for a long long time.  

You watched her as her long blond hair flowed like a waterfall down her shoulder, wind ruffling it gently making her look even more beautiful. 

“Let’s take a selfie, will you?” she shouted at him and he chuckled. 

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, he said, “you smell so nice.”

You wondered, what she smelled like, what perfume did she use to make Yoongi look this satisfied. You even considered asking her, purchasing a bottle and drowning yourself in one of those if that means Yoongi would love to smell you too, he would curl himself around you late at night. If that means Yoongi would want you, just as much. 

“I don't get no sleep… I don't get no peace Thinking about her.. Under your bed sheets”

“Where are you going?” confusion dripped through Yoongi’s voice. You stopped at your tracks and turned to face him. 

“I will sleep in the other room. You two should have your space. I will send her in as soon as I am there.” you smiled at him, even though your heart bleed invisibly inside your chest at the thought of how they would spend the night together. 

“No, Y/N. We will adjust. You sleep here in the suite.” Yoongi commented, as firm as a verdict, as he stepped towards where you stood. 

“But Yoongi, I am alone, what would I do with all this space?” you sighed. You definitely didn’t want to be left alone at the honeymoon suite, decorated for the newlyweds. You hate it. Totally loathe the decorations. Those giant red hearts had been mocking you since the moment you stepped there. You might tear those to pieces if you were left there alone, raising endless questions regarding such an act. 

“You have done enough. You have done much more than you needed to and I feel like I’m taking advantage of your kindness. So, please… stay here. Enjoy the stay. We will manage.” giving you one of his tight lipped smiles, Yoongi slipped out of the room to spend the night with his lover. 

That night when you slid inside the covers, which smelled awfully like him because he took a nap earlier in the evening, you started breaking down. 

Your hopes, your dreams, and your heart all started crumbling right before your eyes. You held the duvet tightly around yourself and pretended it was yoongi wrapped around you, it was Yoongi, whispering sweet things in your ear, it was Yoongi, telling you that he loved you. 

Somewhere you knew, Yoongi is actually doing all these things in real-time but.. Not to you.. Not for you. 

You closed your eyes, tears streamed down your cheeks and wetted the pillow. You imagined your life as her… as your girl crush… as the woman your husband, Min Yoongi, loves. 

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

[yuujispinkhair]

Cold Case, Hot Detective

When the police declare the mysterious disappearance of your husband a cold case, you hire a private detective to discover the truth. Shiu Kong says he is the best man for this job, and admittedly, he is not just excellent at investigating cold cases but also at heating things up when his discoveries lead to you looking for comfort in his arms.

Pairing: Shiu Kong x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: 18+ smut, fingering, praise, mentions of masturbation, smoking, sharing a cigarette. A bit of forbidden romance trope, reader develops a crush on Shiu during the investigation but only acts on it after discovering her husband left her. All characters are of age. This story is 18+ Minors don't interact.

You stop in front of the small private detective agency, eyeing it warily. It looks exactly like you imagined a place like this to look like. As if you are in some film noir. A small office on a shady side street crammed between a takeout shop and a dry cleaner's. But the small room you step into a moment later is surprisingly clean and tidy. Just like the man greeting you with a raised eyebrow.

Shiu Kong was recommended to you by a close friend. Apparently, he is the best at finding lost things and people. He sits behind his polished desk, a neatly stacked pile of case files in front of him, looking much more handsome and posh than you imagined a man in his line of work to be.

He is wearing an immaculate-looking black suit with a white dress shirt and a black tie. His short hair is styled in an attractive modern way. If you had to guess his age, you would say he is in his late thirties. A pair of intelligent-looking, narrowed dark eyes meet yours across the room. His lips are wrapped around a half-smoked cigarette, explaining the smell of smoke you could already sense before entering his small office. In here, your nose also picks up another scent. An expensive, fresh, and masculine smell, probably his aftershave. Sexy.

You smile politely at him, introducing yourself and explaining your concern shortly. You tell him about your husband, who disappeared without a trace six months ago. About the police telling you they found no new leads and would stop investigating. Declaring the disappearance a cold case and telling you with a pitiful look that sometimes people just leave and don't want to be found.

Mr. Kong watches you interestedly, taking a slow drag from his cigarette as you finish your story. He blows out the smoke and straightens up in his chair, looking amused when he says,

"Ah, I see. You want me to do the police's job."

You feel your face heat up and quickly scramble to explain that no, of course, you trust the police to do their job right... It's just that... But he interrupts you politely,

"Please, don't worry. It is my job to do things like these. No shame about it at all. The police tends to drop cases like these too easily. However, I have certain connections that allow me a better assessment of the situation. So, let me summarize it. Basically, we have a typical case of "Honey, I'm getting some cigarettes," only for the husband to never be seen again. Is that correct?"

His gaze is intense, brown eyes with gray flecks, looking at you as if he is trying to read your mind. A detective's gaze. You avert your eyes, feeling shame flood your veins once again. It's embarrassing to admit it out loud. But he is right. Your husband just left one day and never came back. No signs of a crime, no indication that something happened to him.

You nod as you watch his long elegant fingers tap his cigarette on the glass ashtray standing on his desk,

"Yes, that is correct."

"Then you came to the right man. I am experienced, thorough, and discreet. If someone can find your missing husband, it is me."

He smiles reassuringly at you and points at the wall behind him that is lined with thank you letters from former clients. You nod and smile gratefully at him.

You leave his office half an hour later with a copy of a signed contract in your pocket and a good feeling in your gut. Yes, Shiu Kong seems like the best man for this job. Experienced and professional.

And, as a small voice in your head whispers to you, it also doesn't hurt that he is incredibly charming and sexy. A true gentleman. A private detective that could have stepped out of a noir romance novel. Tall, dark, and handsome.

You are back in his office two days later, delivering the additional documents he requested. He smokes his obligatory cigarette, going through the case file with you and explaining which steps he plans to take.

You nod gratefully at him,

"Thank you so much, Mr. Kong."

A smile plays around his lips,

"Please call me Shiu."

Your pulse flutters at that, but it gets even worse when his narrow warm brown eyes look at you inquiringly,

"Let me ask you something: Why do you want to find your husband? Is it out of love? Or is it because you need him to provide for you? Or is it for revenge?"

It catches you by surprise, and you squirm in your seat,

"Um...is this relevant to the case?"

He laughs, low and soft, his eyes glittering amusedly as he shakes his head,

"No, I am just curious. It comes with the job. I am constantly confronted with people's dark side and their deepest secrets. That makes you develop a certain curiosity, I guess. You don't have to answer."

But before you can think twice, you find yourself confessing everything to him, all the things that were obvious to everyone around you but no one ever dared say out loud, not even you. You don't know what it is about this man that makes you spill all your darkest secrets, all the things you are ashamed of.

"It's a marriage of convenience. I was young and needed the money, and he liked having a young wife he could parade around and who depends on him."

You cringe at those words, sounding like the biggest cliche. But Shiu just chuckles good-naturedly,

"Please, don't be ashamed. It makes perfect sense. A lot of marriages exist for that reason."

He winks at you, making your heart skip a beat at how attractive he looks. He leans closer, looking deeply into your eyes when he continues,

"I already suspected something along those lines. A guy like him could never pull a woman like you otherwise."

You feel your heart flutter at his words. At the apparent flirty nature of his comment and the way his gaze trails slowly over your body. You know you should be offended. You know you should get up and leave. You should tell him his behavior isn't very professional.

But you don't. Instead, you can't help but feel flattered at his comment.

When you leave an hour later, he accompanies you to the door with a hand on the small of your back, gently steering you toward the exit. You can smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes and his sexy aftershave. You even imagine you can feel his body heat when he is standing so close to you, his body just shy of pressing against yours.

You lift your head to look up at his handsome face, noticing how tall he is and how incredibly attractive he looks in his fine suit and the confident little smirk on his face.

He opens the door for you like a true gentleman, telling you to get home safely.

Shiu keeps you updated about his investigations at all times.

He calls you in the evening when you are already in bed, apologizing for the late call, making you feel strangely flustered because you are only wearing a flimsy lacy nightdress, and his low voice sounds almost seductive over the phone. It makes you picture sitting on his lap while he trails kisses over the low neckline of your nightdress, the stubble of his thin mustache scratching lightly over your sensitive skin.

You feel guilty for the sound of his name falling from your lips when you come undone on your fingers a while later, hiding your burning face in your pillows.

You should get him out of your mind. You really should. But it's hard when he is so charming and caring. When he is the first person in over six months who really takes you seriously and is willing to help you.

You meet him in a fancy restaurant for lunch, where he shows you pictures of a surveillance camera of a casino, clearly showing your husband. Shiu tells you about his contacts in dubious places. Tells you about illegal gambling, the Yakuza, and big money. When your eyes widen in worry, his hand lands on yours, his thumb caressing your wrist soothingly.

He insists on driving you home, making your pulse flutter nervously because he looks so sexy next to you, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting casually on the open window, a cigarette between his fingers.

You can't remember the last time someone gave you butterflies just from driving in a car with them. You don't know why this man makes you feel like a teenager on your first date.

But when he turns his head to look at you and offers you a small smile, you can't deny how attracted you are to him. How much you want him, even if it is wrong.

He parks his car in front of your apartment and walks over to the passenger side to hold the door open for you and offer you a strong arm. Does he know that he makes your knees go weak with this? Does he know his charming smile and politeness make you feel light-headed?

You don't know what's gotten into you when you step closer to press your body against his side and kiss his cheek, muttering a thank you before you quickly walk to the entrance of your apartment complex, practically fleeing the scene with your heels clacking loudly on the pavement and not daring to look back.

You lie awake in bed for hours that night, haunted by a sexy grin and the smell of cigarette smoke.

Unbidden, the same thoughts repeat in your head over and over again: What if Shiu finds your husband? What then? Do you even want him to come back? Wouldn't it be better if he just stayed missing?

A week later, you find yourself once again in Shiu's private detective agency, wringing your hands in your lap as you listen to him explain gently how your husband won a lot of money in one of his illegal gambling events, how he booked two plane tickets afterward, leaving the country with a young woman on his arm, with no intention of returning.

You feel nauseous. Part of you wished your husband wouldn't come back, but you can't help but feel crushed anyway. Hurt, anger, and worry wash over you.

Hurt that your husband just replaced you. That you weren't enough. Maybe not young enough anymore? Not attractive enough? Anger that he just left without a single word. Why didn't he just file for divorce if he didn't want you anymore? Worry how you will fare now. You are dependent on your husband's money. What will happen to you now? You need to get a divorce to make sure you get alimony. But the thought of everything you must do for this overwhelms you. You feel tears gather in your eyes.

Shiu stops in the middle of his report, grayish-brown eyes watching you worriedly. His voice is gentle when he asks,

"Are you ok?"

Your lips tremble, and you shake your head, unable to form any words. The first tears run down your cheeks. You can see Shiu's handsome face soften as he looks at you.

He reaches across the desk to cup your cheek and gently wipes your tears away. His hand is soft and warm, feeling so comforting on your skin. It's a touch so gentle that you instinctively lean into it, so starved for affection. It has been years since someone touched you like this.

Shiu looks deeply into your eyes, watching you closely, his voice soft like a caress,

"Please don't be sad, sweetheart. That man didn't deserve you."

More tears well up in your eyes, not even because of your husband's betrayal but because Shiu is so nice to you. And a moment later, you are out of your chair and practically fling yourself at Shiu. He catches you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you onto his lap.

He smells so good when you bury your face in his shoulder and cry into his suit jacket. His arms feel so comforting around your body, holding you securely and gently, one hand slowly caressing your back. His low voice is gentle and soothing when he murmurs,

"Please don't cry, sweetheart. Tell me what I can do for you. Tell me what I can do to make it better."

Your voice doesn't sound like your own when you say,

"Just make it go away, please. Make me feel good, please. I just... I just want to be held and feel...feel loved."

You cringe at how dumb you sound. So naive. So pathetic. Begging this guy, your business partner, for affection or sex, or whatever it is you want.

But Shiu doesn't laugh. He doesn't mock you or turn you down. Instead, his hand that was rubbing soothing circles on your back is suddenly on your thigh, warm fingers sprawling over your skin.

The touch of his skin on yours is like an electric jolt, buzzing through your body, making your pulse race and your head spin. Rekindling a fire in you that you never thought you would feel again. It has been years since someone's touch did this to you. And you know you need more of it. You need more of this sexy man who was so nice to you all those weeks.

You press yourself against him, your right hand coming up to run up his neck and into his hair, lips breathing a soft "more" against the side of his neck.

Shiu's warm hand caresses your inner thigh, slowly moving higher. Your breath hitches in your throat, but you open your legs for him, showing him this is what you want.

"Shiu..."

"Yes, let me take care of you, darling."

His voice sounds husky as his warm fingers slip under your skirt. You whine when those fingers reach your panties and brush over them, making your pussy twitch with a need you haven't felt in years. Shiu's thumb finds your clit and teases it lovingly, rubbing it slowy through the thin fabric, making your legs open sluttily as a shaky moan falls from your lips.

You bury your burning face in his suit jacket, inhaling his sexy scent, cigarette smoke, and expensive aftershave, clinging desperately to him. And he keeps massaging your swollen clit through your now wet panties, sending you higher and higher, head spinning and heart racing.

"You like that, sweetheart?"

You are putty in his hands, nodding wildly and sobbing an embarrassed,

"Y...yes...Shiu."

Your hips buck uncontrollably, and you push against his hand almost desperately, rubbing yourself against his thumb, craving his touch, needy for more, jerking when his thumb prods your little sensitive bud so good that your whole body feels on fire.

His voice is gentle, laced with desire when he says,

"Look at me. Let me see your pretty face. Please don't hide from me. I want to see how you like what I'm doing to you."

Something about his tone, the mix of gentleness and dominance, makes your toes curl, and you do as he says, lifting your face off his shoulder and looking straight at him.

Letting him see your face, letting him see the need in your eyes, letting him see the obscene way your mouth opens as a loud moan falls from your lips when he rubs more slow circles around your clit, filling the small office room with the wet sound of your arousal.

It sounds naughty. It feels forbidden what the two of you are doing. But it's the hottest thing you have ever experienced. Sitting on this sexy man's lap in his office, with his hand under your skirt, his fingers caressing you through your panties, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

And suddenly, you find yourself being bold, letting go of your former shame. You reach down to grab the silky fabric of your panties and pull them to the side, exposing yourself to Shiu, whining his name when he grins at you and gently flicks his thumb over your clit again, this time skin on skin, spreading your cream over your puffy needy bud, massaging it thoroughly. You buck against his thumb as if you are in heat, nails digging into his back as you chase after what you know will be a mind-blowing orgasm.

All thoughts of your husband's betrayal have left your mind when Shiu pampers your pussy like that, so loving, so good, taking care of you in a way you have never known in your marriage.

His middle finger teases your creamy hole, slipping in and out slowly, just the fingertip, until you mewl loudly and push onto his finger needily, begging him for more.

And he gives it to you. Warm gray-brown eyes watch you intently as he pushes his finger deep into your wet heat, making you gasp loudly and spread your legs even wider. You ride his finger unashamedly, moaning shakily when Shiu rubs against that sweet spot inside you.

A second finger joins the first one, making you cry out in pleasure. Your eyes close as you give yourself completely to him, letting his strong arms hold you while he fucks you with his middle finger and ring finger, and his thumb caresses your clit.

Your needy moans and the wet sounds of your pussy getting fucked fill the small office, and Shiu's lips trail soft kisses over the side of your neck, murmuring against your skin in that sexy low voice,

"Hmm, yes, like that, sweet thing. Let go, baby. Just let go and cum all over me."

It's his words that make you tumble over the edge, crying out shakily as your orgasm washes over you, strong and deep, your cunt clenching around Shiu's fingers, your juices flowing down his long fingers and his wrist.

He fucks you through it, his fingers gently massaging the spot inside you that makes you see stars, rubbing every last wave of orgasm out of you while whispering sexy encouragements to you,

"Yes, you're such a good girl. Cumming so sweetly for me. Yeah, my sweet thing, just like that."

You collapse bonelessly against him, sobbing and whining from the overwhelming feeling of cumming so hard. And Shiu slowly lets his fingers slip out of you, but his thumb stays pressed against your swollen clit, massaging it tenderly, making your body twitch from the overstimulation.

It's you who grabs his handsome face with both hands and pulls him into a passionate kiss, licking hungrily into his mouth, tasting whiskey and cigarettes and chewing gum on his tongue, moaning into his mouth while he keeps playing with your sensitive clit, and your pussy pulses hotly with the aftershocks of the orgasm he gifted to you.

He kisses you like you haven't been kissed in years, tongue flicking tenderly against yours, deep and slow, his lips moving firmly but gently against yours, making your head spin and your heart race. His thumb rubs a few times more over your clit before he lets go and pulls your panties neatly into place again.

His lips remain close enough to brush against yours when he whispers huskily,

"See, you don't need your loser of a husband. I can take very good care of you, too, darling."

"You have already taken better care of me today than he has in all those years of our marriage."

Shiu raises an eyebrow, a handsome smirk lighting up his face,

"Oh, is that so? Well, in that case, you'll be surprised what else I can do for you. Will you give me a chance to show you?"

His gray-brown eyes observe you carefully. You smile and nod, filled with joy that he wants to see you again, that he wants more than just a short fling.

"Of course. I would love for you to show me everything you can do for me."

Shiu laughs softly and lets go of your thigh to reach behind you and grab his cigarette pack from his desk. He brings one cigarette to his lips, lighting it while he looks at you,

"So my new case will be to mend your broken heart and take proper care of you. It's a pro bono case, of course."

He exhales the cigarette smoke slowly into your face, never averting his gaze as he watches you through the smoke with a grin on his handsome face. Does he know how fast your heart is beating when you imagine what your life with him will be like?

A smile spreads over your face as you reach out and steal the cigarette from his mouth and slowly bring it to your lips. You take a long drag, grinning when you return the favor and blow the smoke into Shiu's face.

"You are hired, Detective Kong."

AAAHHHH I REALLY WROTE SOMETHING FOR HIM!!!

When I read that Shiu used to be a detective, I immediately pictured him as one of those cool private investigators, and yeah, I HAD to write him in that role. Thank you so much to @blueparadis for encouraging me to write this! I had a lot of fun, and I am happy to contribute to the love for this man!

I listened to Taylor Swift's "Reputation" album on repeat while writing this story, and I think the vibe and the lyrics of those songs fit Shiu and this story very well. My heart was definitely beating faster :)

I hope you enjoyed this sexy little story! Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[cactus-cuddler]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝑺𝒑𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // second part

Natasha Romanoff

x female reader

Here you can find the first part!

Word count: 3,2k

Plot: you and Natasha are two spies who have worked together for many years. During these years, a particular chemistry has arisen between you that will make something emerge that you couldn't have foreseen

Genre: Romantic Erotica

Warnings: this story contains descriptions of sexual activity

Author's note: I remind you that English is not my first language so sorry for any errors you may find in the text!

“We have a new mission,” Natasha announces, her eyes on you. You still feel out of breath, a sense of dissatisfaction lingering inside you. She finds you absolutely adorable, especially because it's all thanks to her that you're now in this state.

With every mission, you always risk your life to save innocents, and lately, you've been wondering if it's worth continuing. Every time you return home after days of fighting and killing, you ask yourself, "Am I doing the right thing?" You think about it with every new mission but always end up starting again without reaching a conclusion.

“Should we go to the boss now?" you ask her. Before each mission, your boss sends someone to the home of one of the spies with a code phrase to announce a new task. The phrase is, "Do you have some salt for my zucchini soup?"

“Yes,” she answers and opens her closet to take out some more suitable clothes for the occasion. She undresses in front of you, showing herself to you again. You stare at her as she shamelessly changes, watching how her buttocks move as she pulls on some black panties. She turns to you and smiles.

"Feel like picking my lingerie today?” she provokes you. You unexpectedly say yes and walk over to her closet, looking at the intimates she possesses. You choose a transparent lace thong and a bra that are also transparent enough to show her nipples. You didn't think Natasha owned underwear like that; you saw her as one for sports bras and comfortable panties.

“Would you like to help me slip into these?" she asks, and you feel a tingling between your thighs. You accept the challenge without hesitation. You carefully remove the panties she had previously worn and help her put on the ones you chose, making sure the fabric between her buttocks doesn't bother her. Then you put on her bra, which covers her breasts perfectly, giving her a good cleavage.

“Let me help you too," she whispers and retrieves your underwear and clothes from the kitchen. After putting on your underwear, she gives you a playful spank, making you jump and a surprised scream escapes your lips.

“You were lucky they interrupted us; otherwise, you wouldn't even be able to stand up," she whispers two centimeters from your lips, placing a chaste and delicate kiss there, different from the ones you exchanged less than ten minutes ago.

To get to your boss' office, each spy's room has a button behind a painting that opens a slide to take you directly to the front of his office. It's on an underground level, illuminated mainly by artificial light since the sun's rays cannot reach it. His secretary welcomes you warmly, looking Natasha up and down. She notices this, winks at her, causing the woman to blush. You think it's the Natasha effect that has power over you too. The woman is tall, with long slender legs wrapped in a long skirt, perfect, well-groomed black hair that reaches her mid-back, and a pretty but sensual face. If Natasha has a prototype girl, it's definitely that, and you feel helpless in front of her beauty, with jealousy hitting you like an arrow. The woman opens the door for you and then closes it again, positioning herself in front of it while you and your colleague sit in front of your boss.

The walls are white and immaculate, looking freshly painted. It is furnished in an ancient Greek style, giving it an epochal but elegant atmosphere.

“This is a dangerous mission," he warns you. The man in front of you is tall and powerful, with a handsome and well-groomed face without the shadow of a beard. He has penetrating green eyes and is very attractive. It's hard to believe that a dense spy network is controlled by him.

“If it wasn't dangerous, you wouldn't have called us," Natasha replies in her usual seductive voice. Something about her makes you feel attracted in an unorthodox way, and you can't repress it. The moment you shared continues to reverberate in your mind, and now that you are more clear-headed, you are thinking about the consequences of how you feel about each other. You are afraid that there are feelings beyond sexual attraction, only on your part. Because yes. You are not only attracted to Natasha sexually but also spiritually. You need her, and you need her body. It has a strange effect on you, an effect that she shouldn't have on you.

The man explains what you have to do, step by step, recommending you not to reveal your identity even under torture or to an apparently innocent child. You have to head to Hawaii, where a woman is hiding, and you have to find her and neutralize her. It doesn't matter how, but you have to eliminate her. Her name is Nicole Jamisson, she is forty years old and was a former spy. She's selling top secret information to people not authorized to have it and now she's taking a vacation. Her last vacation in her entire life, you think.

You continue to look at Natasha, being careful not to let her see you. You observe how her hair moves with her head, how her lips move, and you carefully watch the movement of her hands. She notices you, catches your gaze, smiles at you, and you feel something inside you warm up. You immediately look away toward the perfect walls of the office.

You are ready to leave immediately after your boss shows you a photo of this woman, but you don't understand how it can be useful to you. She will surely have changed her appearance to avoid being easily found, but this won't stop you.

The flight is scheduled for early tomorrow morning, and you and Natasha have agreed to go shopping for some cute swimsuits and warm weather clothes together. One thing you love about your job is the expense reimbursement. You can go shopping pretending you need it for the mission, and they will reimburse it! It's not the first time you and Natasha have gone shopping together before a mission; it's now a tradition of yours.

You are in a large shopping center; everything you can imagine you could definitely find here. From food to objects. Inside, divided into three floors, there are many famous brand shops but there is no shortage of more humble shops. Each shop is decorated according to the type of goods sold while outside them the dominant colors are beige and green. There are soft armchairs in which the fathers of the family wait for the mother to finish and there is the smell of good food in the air. From ice cream to hot crepes to pizzas and sushi. You already know in your mind what you need to buy and, having come here many times, you know exactly where to find it. First visit to an underwear shop to buy some costumes. You can't go to Hawaii without having a nice one!

While looking at some costumes that might look good on you, you notice Natasha lost in thought. She is carefully looking at a costume, and you think she is debating whether to take it or not, so you decide to help her.

“That swimsuit would look amazing on you, don’t you think?," you tell her. It's definitely not her style, but it would suit her.

"Imagining you in that… pretty distraction," she says seriously, as if the most perverse thing ever had not come out of her lips. You flush and feel embarrassed because you're not alone. There are other people walking around the store who might have just overheard what Natasha told you.

You finish shopping, each with three bags full of things. You were lucky enough to have caught a day of sales with discounts of up to 70%. You greet the condo concierge, who welcomes you with a broad smile. He's definitely a spy placed to keep the common people safe in case someone gives out information about this place, but you're not sure. If you were the boss, it would be one of the things you would want to do, knowing normal people with a family and maybe a cat are in danger. You go up the elevator. There are ten floors in total, so it will take a while to get there. The same air that led you to an intimate relationship fills the elevator, and after a few seconds, you find yourself once again entangled in a passionate moment. Natasha lifts one of your thighs, digging her nails into it. She holds you to her in a possessive way, eager to take you there in that elevator. But it stops, and a woman in her thirties surprises you in that dirty kiss. You break away and say "good evening" to the woman, who decides to come between you with the fear that you might continue doing what you were doing. Natasha looks at you with desire still in her eyes, thinking that it's not exactly her day. You arrive at her floor, and she takes her bags and leaves, planting a tender kiss on your cheek in front of thewoman's prying eyes. You don't give such a sweet kiss to a woman whose body you desire, and upon understanding it, you smile like a teenager.

After a day like that, you just want to throw yourself into bed with your pajamas and your cat and sleep as long as you can before leaving for the mission that awaits you. You can't help but think, "What if I don't save myself this time?" Your thoughts are interrupted by a notification from your phone. It's Natasha.

"How about some pre-mission cuddle tonight?"

"Why?"

"I've always wanted to just hold you close before heading out. There's time to enjoy your company in Hawaii :)

Then you told me that you are always afraid before leaving. I'd like to reassure you a little.”

You don't even have time to answer, and your doorbell rings. You find yourself in front of Natasha wearing children's pajamas, a teddy bear-shaped stuffed animal, and some gummy sweets.

"I didn't want to make you inconvenience me, so here I am," she tells you on the threshold of the door with a smile on her lips.

"I remembered that you were crazy about these," she adds, handing you a bag of sweets, and you let her in.

You go to the bedroom, inside you know and hope that there won't just be cuddles in that bed. You position yourself next to each other and Natasha starts rubbing your arm first.

"How long have you had feelings for me?" you ask Natasha as she plays sweetly with your hair. Her scent envelops you like a warm blanket and you keep your head resting on her chest. Her heartbeat can barely be heard but it beats very softly and quickly. Her feelings are true.

"When I saw you for the first time I was surprised by how beautiful you were. I immediately felt a connection with you, but my gaze seemed to terrify you, so I wanted to avoid intruding into your private life," she explains, her hands moving gently on your face. She makes small circles on your cheeks and that very simple gesture relaxes you and fills your stomach with butterflies.

"You didn't scare me," you reply, filling your mouth with the sweets you love so much. "I was intimidated by your charm and you have a strange effect on me... I don't know how to explain it to you," you add later.

"I'm happy I found the courage to try to make a move with you," she says with a sigh, her caresses becoming sweeter and more tender.

"Natasha Romanoff who didn't have the courage to do something?" you mock her, giggling. To get revenge for your joke, she pinches your cheek.

"Be careful how you speak," she teases you.

"Otherwise?" Your sentence lights a spark in what was supposed to be a cuddle evening. But you're happy with what you just triggered. Natasha reaches inside your pajama bottoms.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asks, whispering in your ear and then playing with her tongue on your earlobe. She starts touching your pussy directly without caring about the fabric of your panties and inserts two fingers. A scream of pleasure escapes your lips as Natasha's fingers fill you. Your body seems created to accommodate her, everything she touches simply sends you on fire. Her thrusts are firm, she doesn't want to give you any mercy. She wants to make you scream her name and make you understand that the only one who can have you is her and only her.

“Have they ever said I love you while they fuck you like I'm doing?" She whispers to you while your slow legs tremble at her thrusts. You just shake your head no and she whispers.

"I love you, kukolka," while you come on her fingers. She puts her hands in your mouth and forces you to suck them so you can taste yourself. "I love you too," you whisper between spasms.

"Let's finish what we started this morning" you plead and she smiles at you smugly. In an instant all your clothes are at the foot of your bed and she is on top of you. You eat your lips as if they were strawberry jelly and in the meantime she stimulates your clit with her fingers. She dominates your mouth so you don't scream from the pleasure you're feeling right now. You feel like you want to take command and position yourself above her, between her legs. Make your intimacy stick together and while she sinks her nails into your left buttock you set a pace that can satisfy you both.

"I didn't imagine you being such a slut" Natasha says between sighs, biting her lower lip. You feel another orgasm about to take over your body but before then you position yourself with your face between Natasha's legs. You sink a finger inside her and lick her clit in the meantime. You're not going to stop until you feel her juices on your face. Natasha gently caresses your head asking for more and you please her until you are filled with her between your lips.

"Fuck, you're killing me" she compliments and then you lie down next to each other again, full of sweat and other sweet liquids and out of breath. You look at each other and smile at each other, complicit in what just happened.

"I really just wanted cuddles" Natasha says between sighs and you make a guilty expression. If Natasha had come there to you you wouldn't have allowed her to go without tasting her and feeling her inside you. With you.

You fall asleep hugging each other, sealing the birth of a relationship destined to last. As you lie there, thoughts about the upcoming mission swirl in your mind. Tomorrow, you will leave for Hawaii to track down Nicole Jamisson. She was once one of you-a spy-but now she sells secrets to the highest bidder. You can't help but wonder how she went from being a colleague to a target.

Would you end up the same way one day? Would Natasha? The thought makes your chest tighten. You can't bear the idea of losing her, not now, not after everything. 'I won't let that happen,' you think, your resolve hardening. 'This will be my last mission. After this, Natasha and I can leave this life behind. We can be together without the constant threat of death looming over us.

With that final thought, you drift off to sleep, feeling more determined than ever to make it through tomorrow-and the many tomorrows after that-alive and together.

The next morning you wake up to the news that your flight has been canceled and your mission aborted. The news that the flight has been canceled and the mission aborted because of the explosion of the plane leaves you petrified. The voice from the newscast echoes in your head as the world seems to stop around you. Fifty people dead, families destroyed in an instant. The realization of how close you were to death hits you like a punch in the gut. Natasha watches you with concern, reading the anguish on your face. Without saying a word, she wraps you in a warm embrace, her strong body against yours, offering the comfort that only she can provide. You stay like that for a long moment, the silence filled only by the sound of your hearts beating.

"You know," you finally murmur, "I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep risking my life like this. Life is too short. I want to live every minute with you." She looks into your eyes, the green of her eyes shining with understanding and love.

"Me too," she says simply, holding you tighter.

You and Natasha walk into your boss's office, determination etched on both your faces. The white, immaculately painted walls and the ancient Greek decor that once seemed impressive now feel like a facade hiding the dangers of your profession. Your boss looks up from his desk, his penetrating green eyes locking onto yours.

“We need to talk,” Natasha says firmly, taking a step forward. She places an envelope containing your resignation letters on his desk. He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair.

“I assume this is about the explosion?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice steady but filled with emotion.

“Nicole Jamisson knew about our mission. The plane exploded to prevent us from reaching her. How did she get that information?” Your boss's face hardens.

“We’re investigating. But I assure you, our security protocols are—”

“Your security protocols failed!” Natasha interrupts, her voice rising. “Fifty people are dead. Fifty innocent lives lost because of a leak in our system. And what if they had decided to blow up this building instead?” Your boss's expression darkens, but he remains silent.You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

“What would have happened if they had wanted to blow up this condo directly? Do you realize how many lives would be at risk, including ours? We’ve put our lives on the line for this organization time and time again, but this… this is too much.” Natasha nods, her hand finding yours for support. “We can’t continue like this. We can’t work in an environment where our safety is compromised at every turn. We’re done.” Your boss leans forward, his hands clasped on the desk.

“You’re some of the best agents we have. Leaving now means giving up everything you’ve worked for, everything you’ve fought for.”

“We’re not giving up,” you say, your voice calm but resolute. “We’re choosing to live. To value our lives and each other more than this endless cycle of danger and death.” Natasha squeezes your hand. “We’re out. Effective immediately.” For a moment, silence fills the room. Your boss’s face is a mask of frustration and resignation. Finally, he nods. “Very well. I’ll process your resignations. But know this… you’ll always have a place here, should you choose to return.” Without another word, you and Natasha turn and leave the office, the weight of your decision lifting with every step. As you walk out of the building for the last time, you feel a sense of freedom and resolve. You don’t know what the future holds, but you know one thing for sure you’ll face it together.

Let me know what you think and thanks for reading! I remind you that requests are open so if you want me to write you something.

[myysaints]

saw your requests are open so i’d like to request something! something angsty because this came to me after listening to ‘cherry’ by harry styles :p reader is danny’s ex but they broke up, few months later he’s dating someone else and reader is now in a (new/fresh) relationship with another driver, max/charles i couldn’t decide so i’ll let you do that! ♡ just something angsty like him realizing how much he misses her but she’s moved on and happy 🫶🏼 hope this makes sense? ah, love your stuff btw!!!

thank u anon you're so sweet! and ughhhh this request was IMMACULATE cherry is one of my favourite harry styles songs. wasn't sure if you wanted a socmed fic, if u did lmk and i'd be happy to adapt it into one! but i hope you enjoy nevertheless :)

I, I just miss I just miss your accent and your friends

Daniel stares down at his phone.

What a cruel twist of fate it is that the moment he opened his Instagram, he sees you.

You’re laughing in the picture, your hand looped around none other than Max’s neck. You’re sprawled on the Red Bull driver’s lap, and there’s a giddy grin on both of your faces, Max’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist. It feels bittersweet, seeing that familiar sweet smile of yours, only now it’s pointed at another man.

It’s only one photo in a carousel of others posted by your best friend. Why Daniel still follows her, he has no idea. But he stares at the photograph of you for longer than he’d like to admit.

There’s a shuffling noise from the kitchen, and Daniel’s new girlfriend pokes her head into the room. “Danny, we still going out for dinner?”

Daniel can only stare at her for a moment, too caught up in the memories of you and him to reply.

He knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he shouldn’t be leading this poor girl along. He knows that all this relationship is to him is a way to distract himself from what’s really eating at him. He knows that she’s just a replacement for you.

But the quizzical smile his girlfriend sends has his heart aching in guilt, so he manages a feeble nod in response, quickly shutting his phone off and throwing it onto the bed, before making his way to her smiling face.

The guilt eats him alive as he makes small talk with her over dinner. He would never admit it, but sometimes he can’t stand to look at her; to roll over in bed and see someone other than you laying beside him.

Did you know I still talk to them?

Everything changed after Zandvoort.

Daniel was partially to blame, he knew that. The crash in free practice had taken a toll on him, not just physically but mentally. The season in AlphaTauri was his one shot at proving that he still had it in him to be a class Formula 1 driver - to the world, to Red Bull, and to himself.

You were supportive of him all the way. From the moment he entered talks with Red Bull and AlphaTauri to get back into F1, to when he first got in that white and blue car at Hungary, you were always there, by his side.

But Zandvoort changed things. Zandvoort changed him.

He started to push you away. The comments from the media, from fans, from people everywhere, all around him, were starting to get to him. Did nobody believe in him anymore? Was he really not cut out for Formula 1?

Was his time really up?

The weeks of recovery were dark for the both of you. For him, most of it was spent in bed, his mind fuzzy from the painkillers and medicine, too tired and too beaten to do anything. For you, it was utter torture. To see the man you loved, the man whose laughter and mere presence brought so many smiles to those in the paddock, the man who never knew when to give up, look so futile and disappointed? It hurt.

But he hurt you more.

Does he take you walking round his parents' gallery?

It’s funny. Fate, he means. How it has a way of testing him, how it has a way of bringing his mind and him back to you. Always you.

“Has anyone seen Max and Y/N? They were supposed to arrive a while ago, are they late? ”  

Instinctively, Daniel turns. It’s almost pathetic really. How just the sound of your name catches his attention and has him whipping around, his eyes searching for you. How you unwittingly made him into your own lapdog.

You aren’t there, though, so he keeps his head down and ignores the questioning look his girlfriend sends him.

In the final few weeks, and perhaps even months, of your relationship, Daniel hadn’t been kind on you. He became bitter, spiteful, even jealous. To him, you just didn’t understand the weight on his shoulder, the pressures he had to face. But how could you? Despite all your protests and pleading, he was shutting you out of his life, bit by bit.

Every time you came over, it ended with screaming matches and you leaving with tears in your eyes. Daily visits from you turned into weekly check-ins. He started to turn his head away from you when you tried to kiss his cheek. Those turned into brusque hand squeezes. His texts, too, became sparse and dry. He recoiled from you when you were around.

He could still remember the heartbreak on your face when he told you he wanted to break up. "It's for both of our own good," he mumbled. "I need to focus on racing. You should have a life outside of me."

It was a bitter end, and to this day, Daniel still regrets not putting up enough of a fight. How stupid he had been, to think that without you, he could give his 100% to racing. How stupid he had been, to think of you as a distraction.

He can’t imagine how stupid he must appear to you now, showing up on Sunday with a new girlfriend on his arm.

Don't you call him baby

“You sure you’re okay?”

You smooth down your dress for the umpteenth time, breathing out a nervous sigh as you smile back at Max, who glances at you in slight concern. His press officer is fussing over the both of you, the paddock entrance looming both terrifyingly and excitingly ahead.

It’s about to be your first public appearance with Max, and your first public appearance at a Formula 1 grand prix since… Well, since your relationship with Daniel ended.

It’s been a rough few months. It took time, getting used to Daniel’s absence. You hadn’t realised just how much of your life had revolved around his being; it became painful to even step foot in the paddock, to even switch on the television to catch up on the latest grand prix.

Even worse was the public scrutiny. You and Daniel had always been open about your relationship, frequently sharing bits and pieces of your life together on each of your social medias. So it was no wonder than when you both stopped posting each other, and when you took down all your posts with him, that fans knew something was up.

Things hadn’t been easy. But Max had made it better. What started as a friendly reaching out turned into a heartachingly romantic and sweet courting, and now, he was your boyfriend.

You smile at Max, reaching up to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. You can hear a flurry of cameras snapping away, and you resist glancing at them, choosing instead to focus on your boyfriend. At your peck, Max ducks his head, as if suddenly shy despite the two of you having dated for going on 3 months now. Still, the small grin on his face tells you all you need to know.

“I’ll be fine,” you say as you slip your hand into his, and give a nod to his press officer. Max’s thumb smooths over your knuckles, and you finally feel yourself relax. You look into his eyes, and in this moment, you know: You’re happy.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, baby.”

We're not talking lately

Everyone notices when you enter the paddock.

Not only because it’s the first time in months that you’ve appeared at a Grand Prix, but because you have Max Verstappen beside you. With his arm around your waist.

“What’s happening?” his girlfriend asks, craning her neck to peer at the paddock entrance. “Did someone just arrive?”

“It’s Max,” a passing journalist calls, as he hastens towards the paddock entrance himself. “With Y/N!”

Daniel can’t help himself. Really, he can’t.

It happens before he can stop himself. He’s getting up and pulling his hand from his girlfriend and his feet are taking himself over to you as if they have a mind of their own. As if they still remember that it's where he’s meant to be. By your side.

The crowd doesn’t part for him. Not anymore. He finds himself standing on the outskirts of the gathering group, watching from afar as you bashfully smile for the many snapping cameras, and cling onto Max a little tighter, as the Red Bull driver nods politely at the journalists swarming you.

“Alright, alright, let us through, please,” he hears Max say, “Let my girl have some space, yeah?”

Something akin to jealousy rears its ugly head.

Then the horde of people are moving, and some are finally beginning to notice Daniel.

“Danny!” “Daniel, over here, please!” “How’re you feeling today, Daniel?” “Daniel, how does it feel that Max is dating your ex-girlfriend?”

The question has him reeling, and he can only stare at the waiting journalist incredulously. What a ridiculous fucking question. He has half a mind to charge at the dickhead and throw a punch that will send the cunt into a coma for weeks-

“Look, mate, leave us alone, yeah? Daniel, how’re you doin’?”

Max claps a good-natured hand on Daniel’s back, steering him away from the throng of journalists and photographers, who groan before turning their attention to Fernando, who’s just gotten out of his car.

Max’s friendliness momentarily stuns him, and all he can manage out is a half-convincing “Good, good” in return. This seems to satisfy Max enough, though, because then he’s smiling and nodding and rubbing Daniel’s shoulders.

It’s at this moment Daniel realises you’re still here.

He glances back at you, trailing behind him and Max.

You’re just as pretty as ever, he thinks to himself. It’s almost as if nothing had changed. Like you’re still the one he walked into the paddock with, like you’re waiting for him to finish a conversation with Max, not the other way around.

You don’t even look his way.

“…so then I told Charles, ‘No way, there’s no way you’re convincing Carlos that!’, and then, you know what he said? Really, it’s hilarious, he-”

Max stops his rambling midway, leaning down to listen to something you whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna head to the garage first, okay?” Daniel hears you mumble, “I’ll see you later, baby.”

Then Max tilts your head up and presses a kiss on your mouth.

It’s at this moment that Daniel can’t help but feel a little foolish. Actually, more than a little. He feels stupid, downright idiotic standing here with his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. Trying to pretend like everything was alright.

The worst part of it all, is that you don’t seem fazed at all. To you, it’s like he’s just another driver you bump into ever-so-often. You don’t seem to care about him. It’s like he and the weight of your shared history don’t even exist. Like it never did.

The sight of you walking away from him – again – pains him more than he thought it would. He can’t bear to lose you again, not when he’s still so fucking in love with you.

Soo he darts his hand out and grabs your wrist, and you whip around, eyes wide and stunned, and Daniel feels Max halt beside him, watching him intently.

And you’re looking at him now. Finally, you’re looking at him.

His eyes roam yours, trying to find a hint of familiarity, hoping desperately that he’ll find the same yearning and aching he feels for you reflected in your eyes.

“Don't you call him what you used to call me,” he whispers. Pleading with you.

Something in you seems to soften, and there’s a flash of pain in your eyes, but it's one that is quickly replaced with anger.

You wrench your hand from his grip and shove him away, storming off as Max follows you, casting an indecipherable look at Daniel in the process. Daniel watches as Max catches up to you, and he watches as you let him cradle you in his arms.

But it’s not your anger that hurts the most.

It’s the fact that you never once looked back at him.

[vivalarevolution]

𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽'𝓼 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

Viscount Aemond Targaryen x Curvy Stark Reader

Summary: She had never seen Viscount Targaryen , nor she ever exchanged a word with him. But that changed one evening, after which the man unexpectedly began to appear everywhere she looked , not letting her mind forget him. Even for a moment.

A/N: I'll admit I had a lot of fun creating the whole idea, mainly because a lot of inspiration was taken from the Bridgertons as well as from Pride and Prejudice, but I think the title explains it all. I can only hope you will like it as much as I do and you will enjoy reading it.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes can happen.

Work contains smut.

Viscount Aemond Targaryen. A man known to few. With a mystery hidden behind his lavender eye, with a hair color of the December snow and a face cold and sharp like a stone.

He radiated both seriousness and arrogance, and with every word he spoke there was a sense of crude indifference to all those he considered unworthy of his presence.

And yet , despite all this , despite his status and sense of superiority , he stood here, stood and looked at the woman he couldn't have.

Her skin looked as soft to the touch as the most expensive velvet , her hair smooth and glistening , were pinned up and styled , highlighting her face , which was adorned with full , kissable lips and rosy cheeks. Her curvy body hidden behind the material of an expensive dark purple dress left little to the imagination , letting his eye and mind feast.

But whenever he tried to force her to level gazes with him her eyes seemed to run away from him. She never submitted to him. Instead, she chose to hide from the man, which made him want to hunt her, suddenly being more determined than ever in his life. And just as he was about to seize her , trapping her in the snare of his long arms , a female hand grabbed his shoulder, halting his movements.

-Mother - he said through a clenched jaw, looking at the older woman out of the corner of his eye.

-Where are you going Aemond? - she asked , wrinkling her eyebrows in consternation -Your betrothed has just arrived , don't keep her waiting - she confessed , shifting her gaze towards Floris Baratheon , who was standing at the other end of the ballroom.

-There are matters , which I must attend to. Immediately - he replied in a controlled and cool tone of voice, gently pushing his mother's hand away , leaving her before she could stop him physically or verbally.

His steps, like himself, were full of control and composure without betraying his true intentions even for a moment. Intentions that were able to crush him under the weight of future consequences, which, despite everything, seemed of little importance to the viscount ,especially when he finally found the mysterious woman who has clouded his senses with her mere presence.

She stood on the balcony , gazing at the night sky , letting the moon illuminate her immaculate face , giving her person an almost angelic glow.

But when Aemond crossed the threshold , placing his foot on the marble slab , the stranger's gaze almost immediately turned in his direction , finally allowing him to drown in the depths of her eyes , which looked at him with intrigue as well as a shadow of irritation.

-Who are you? - she asked , looking for an answer in the features of his face , unfortunately unsuccessfully.

-I should ask you the same question Miss- he stated , walking slowly towards her.

-And yet it was not I who burned the imprint of my eyes on the stranger's body - remarked the young woman , turning fully toward the viscount , now facing him -You did sir. And now you have decided to follow me.

-I did not follow you - he replied , placing his large hand on the stone railing , giving her a feeling of almost being trapped , by how close he was to her now - The truth is that I tried to find you.

-Since you have achieved this goal , what more do you want? - she asked almost in a whisper , studying his face , which was decorated with a long scar and a sapphire in place of the left eye.

-Your name. I want to know it- he said as quietly as she did , bringing his face closer to hers.

The air around them suddenly seemed to become hotter and heavier.

-I will tell it to you…if you tell me yours sir- she replied ,breathlessly , not knowing why.

-Aemond Targaryen - he said almost immediately wanting to know the name of the stranger, who with each passing second made him forget about the bride that waited for him downstairs.

-You're a viscount - she pointed out, placing her hand on his chest to create a previously non-existent distance between them.

Aemond furrowed his brow and took her wrist in his palm , feeling her quickening pulse under his fingertips.

-Are you worried that someone will see you with me? - he asked her with a shadow of amusement on his face.

-I'm worried about what a man like you wants from me , when he is about to marry one of Borros Baratheon's daughters - she stated , stepping away from the stone balustrade , forcing the viscount to let go of her hand.

-I simply wish to learn your name - he answered , repeating his earlier words.

-Y/n Stark - she said , finally revealing her identity, causing a satisfied smile to appear on the viscount's face, which disappeared as quickly as it appeared as she continued - Now if you'll allow me, I'll go my way and you go yours, and we'll act like this encounter never took place.

-Your secrets are safe with me , I assure you Miss - he reassured in a serious tone.

The woman's gaze fled from him for a brief second, as if she needed to think deeply about something. After a moment she shifted her gaze back to him, looking into his violet eye with stoic face.

-Goodnight lord Targaryen - she said before she left the man, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

When the silhouette of the woman disappeared , he wanted to follow her , but stopped himself , turning his gaze in the opposite direction. Yet he could no longer focus on anything other than the beautiful female he meet at the ball to celebrate the engagement, his engagement.

And he wasn't the only one.

It seemed that he was everywhere she was. No matter what she did , no matter where she went , his figure always appeared in the corner of her eye. He haunted her mind as much as she haunted his , and despite how much it tormented both of their souls , she kept her distance , running away from him like a game , while he was the hunter , hunting her. With each of their encounters being closer and closer to catching her.

Until finally there was nowhere to run , nowhere to hide. The only thing left was confrontation.

They met again at the ball , in the same place where their eyes first met , the first time they heard each other , the first time they touched each other's skin.

But this time the man wasn't alone.

Floris Baratheon held on to his arm , smiling shyly at the people who were watching the viscount and future viscountess.

And Y/n was one of them. Her eyes stared at them with a shadow of longing , that the young woman did not even try to hide.

-Are you all right sister? - asked her older brother, standing by her side since the beginning of the ball , watching her closely.

-Yes , yes - she whispered , turning her gaze toward the man, -I just need to get some fresh air.

Cregan sent her a concerned look but did not stop her , silently watching as she left the residence in a haste.

Her breathing seemed to become heavier by the minute , and her footsteps got more and more aggressive.

The realization of what was happening to her began to sink inside her brain. Miss Y/n Stark had fallen in love with a man who belonged to another.

And if fate hadn't mocked her enough , the bane of her existence appeared when all she wanted was to forget.

-Miss Stark - Aemond greeted her , standing still as she turned to face him.

-Viscount Targaryen - she replied , with distress in her tone -Why are you here?

-I saw you leave in a hurry - he explained , scanning her face, which had a grimace of fatigue on it -I wanted to make sure you were okay.

-Why? - she asked , frowning her eyebrows -Why you do this when your betrothed is inside , waiting for you. Why do you do all this? These unexpected encounters , fleeting glances. Why my lord?

The man suddenly appeared by her side. He was so close that their breaths mingled and there lips almost touched.

-Because I care about you - he confessed with seriousness in his voice , looking hard into her eyes.

-You don't know me. And I don't know you - the woman said , stubbornly trying to push away the viscount , but in vain - We can't love each other , we can't.

-And yet, despite your proclaims , I can no longer eat , I can no longer sleep , I can no longer breathe without letting you consume my every thought - he proclaimed , capturing her cheek in his large hand -You haunt me in my dreams , you haunt me during the day , you haunt me when I'm with my family , you haunt me when I look directly into the eyes of my betrothed - he growled , brushing her ear with his lips -You can deny it , but at least don't make me do it , don't make me continue to suffer without you by my side.

Y/n felt as if something had possessed her.

His words made her finally forget, but unfortunately not about him, but about the outside world that was so close to them, almost at her fingertips.

She let the viscount finally taste her full pink lips, embraced her wide hips in his rough hands, and dragged her to the carriage standing just behind them, locking them inside. The interior of it suddenly seemed so small , as their bodies pressed against each other.

His palms, large and warm, touched her in places that were forbidden to him, but in his movements there was not a shred of thought about the later consequences, only uncontrollable lust.

-From the moment our eyes met, I knew that I had to possess you, that I had to make you mine - he whispered into her neck, gliding his nose over her pulse, brushing the skin of her neck with his tongue again and again, leaving wet marks behind.

The woman moaned quietly in response , closing her eyes and tilting her head , making herself putty in his hands , which he took advantage of by pushing her onto the seat ,kneeling himself on the floor of the carriage , with his large hands running over the white material of her dress , therefore revealing the smooth skin of her legs , which he sensually kissed, leaving an electrifying sensation that caused her to shiver.

Her eyes closed involuntarily when the viscount's lips found their way to her heated and moist inner thighs , while his fingers melted into her firm bum , lifting her curvy body so her ankles could fell on the man's broad shoulders.

His teeth found their place on the woman's undergarments, tearing them in one strong movement, which caused the cold air to hit her sensitive womanhood, that trembled under the sudden change of temperature.

-Aemond - she whispered , calling him by name for the first time - What are you doing? - she asked, looking down.

-I want to taste you - he muttered , kissing her ankle - I wonder if you taste as sweet as your lips do - he said , slowly pulling up her long gown , so that nothing would block his view of the woman before him.

Before Y/n could respond to his words , his tongue touched her swollen clit , swirling it around the pink pearl , making her uncontrollably thrust her pelvis forward , imprisoning the man in the softness of her thick thighs.

Aemond , in response , growled , clamping his hands on her firm flesh , drawing her impossibly closer , feasting. His mouth explored her femininity , kissing and licking every part , leaving nothing without his attention . He was bestial , greedily drinking her juices , which tasted like the sweetest dessert of his life , as his eyes stared at the woman in front of him , who was consumed by convulsions of pleasure that tore their way through her body , making it burst into flames that consumed her mind.

The viscount watched with delight as she broke under her first orgasm of the night, licking everything she gave him , feeling under his fingertips how her muscles went limp , and seeing how her eyes became clouded by uncontrollable desire.

-Aemond - she said breathlessly , desperately grabbing his jaw , trying to pull him close to her.

-What is it my sweet? - he asked , purring like a cat.

-Please…please…make love to me, Aemond - she begged, brushing her lips against his, tasting herself on them, combing her fingers between strands of his white hair.

In response, the man embraced her curvy body , securing it in his strong arms , positioning the lovers so that this time he was resting on the seat , placing Miss Stark on his legs , immediately proceeding to assault her neck with slow kisses, while his hands crept to her throbbing entrance , which was waiting for him , embracing him tightly as he inserted two fingers into her , sensually moving them.

-So warm and tight - he muttered into her ear , biting its lobe - Full of desperation and need.

-Don't make me wait…I beg you…I can't stand it - she whimpered , burying her face in the hollow of his neck.

Viscount took her flushed cheek in his hand , making her look at him while his other hand skillfully unbuttoned his black pants , freeing his thick and long member , which he directed at her wet entry , entering her slowly and carefully , looking deeply into her eyes.

She felt like she could feel him in her throat. He rammed her insides , mixing the feeling of pain with pleasure , spreading it from the top of her head to her toes. She moaned, whimpered and mewled, letting him move her as he pleased, making her see stars. His member was hitting sensitive places that were never known by her, making her walls clench tighter and tighter against him.

The second orgasm that overtook her body felt overwhelming , yet he kept moving, wanting to feel the sensation of her thight walls clenching onto him for as long as possible, before he did what he wanted from the moment he saw her. He maked her his.

Y/n moaned softly, feeling the sudden heat that poured from inside of her , right between her wet and sticky thighs. Holding the viscount by the neck, she pulled him even closer, snuggling into his muscular body.

Everything seemed to quiet down around them. The windows of the carriage fogged up through their passionate act , and the air became hot and suffocating. However, they did not care , they were too busy melting into each other's embrace.

But this changed when she heard his words , whispered directly into her ear.

Will you marry me , miss Stark?

[hana-no-seiiki]

【 PROVENANCE OF THE SUN | ZERO : ASCENSIONEM DEI NOVI 】

RISING SUN REMAKE

YANDERE! JJK! VARIOUS! x CULT GOD! READER x CULT MEMBERS

Sign up for the cult and get notified on when this updates by replying! [Taglist]

Synopsis: In the thousands of years Sorcerers have challenged curses, there was one thing they have yet to utilize. Blessings, constructed by the positive emotions of humanity such as love and adoration.

And at the center of it all was [Y/N] [L/N], ORTUS SOLIS’s biggest blessing yet.

THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF HAPPY REIGN BE THINE;

DELICATE, GLOVED HANDS combed through [hair color] tresses. Efficient in its movements; any tangled knots of hair swiftly disappeared. The chirping of birds and crickets, along with the golden luminescence of the sun breached through the glass panes and into the chambers of the dignified godling.

“May this lowly servant bask in the Sun’s glow.” Even if muffled by the doors between them. The deity knew which of their followers dared to interrupt their routine. Only few were bold — no — idiotic enough to impose.

The pampered child answered with a low volume, a heavy disinterest laced their voice, “Enter.”

RULE ON, MY LORD, UNTIL WHAT ARE PEBBLES NOW.

“This lowly servant has come to divulge the Sun with the words of the oracle.” An elderly man bursted in. Head high, he wore robes of grandeur quality; with golden embroidery upon white fabric. He stood out in the traditionally styled house. “Permission to speak?”

The pair of maids who worked on the child’s hair parted from their master. The action gave the man a full view of their entrancing form. Eyes of [eye color] gazed at him. He could already feel his limbs going weak. An overwhelming sense of exhilaration, adoration, and need to bow seeped into him. The man knew that if he had not been as exposed to the deity as he was throughout the years, their ethereality might have already made his heart stop.

The child’s eyes wandered throughout his figure. Every moment their glance lingered sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. Only for them to break their line of sight. “Permission granted.”

BY AGES UNITED TO MIGHTY ROCKS SHALL GROW.

Nay, he realized, it was not just their divine image nor scrutiny. Any sound that left from their lips would be enough to make a crowd dead where they stand, or at the very least be crippled by the paralyzing sensations of bliss. Indeed, this was the power of his Sun. None other than his lord, [Y/N].

A power he both feared and adored.

“The oracle has spoken. Due to the Queen Dowager’s unfortunate passing, the coronation shall take place soon.”

He couldn’t help but gasp as [Y/N] stood. Their full height at their age was far lesser than his, yet it was never a comfort. “How soon?”

“He said it – it would best be held next year . . . my Sun.”

Silence befell them.

Without a thought, the man kneeled. It did not matter how old or frail his body was, as soon as the warm emotions left him he knew he had offended their holy being.

“Do you have a family?”

“My Sun, p-please. You have to reconsider . . . ! “

Their frown indicated that he gave the wrong answer.

“I do not, my Sun . . . “ He bowed. His face was practically one with the floor.

“How mundane. In here I thought I’d get a show for this evening.”

He stands up in one quick motions. The crack of bones breaking and rearranging was arduous in itself to hear.

“MY SUN! MY HOLY LIGH—“

“You see, ever since that old hag died I realized — there’s no one alive that’s able to stop me from doing what I want anymore.”

“With a coronation or without. I am your god.”

“Through you, everyone will be informed. You get to die in service of a new dawn. Where would you find a better honor than this?”

The worst thing about the man’s last breath was that as agonizingly torturous his god’s rays of light were on him — he did not feel an ounce of anger or resentment.

Only unfettered, immaculate happiness.

WHOSE VENERABLE SIDES THE MOSS DOTH LINE.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Timeless - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Literally my first attempt at a fic in forever so bare with me, but I had this idea and I couldn't not do it. Also definitely inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift in a way so don't mind me.

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: no warnings, extra cute Bob. mutual pining. lots of fluff. mild angst if you squint.

word count: 2.6k

The cool, crisp November air tickled the back of your neck as you walked down the street, orange, red and yellow leaves peppering the sidewalks, the smells of autumn air filling your nose. You frowned as you zipped your jacket up further to cover you better, the breeze sending a shiver down you. The streets were buzzing with people out and about to finish their preparations for Thanksgiving. It was still a week or so away, but, no one leaves anything to the last minute around here, especially not when it comes to homemade pies and cornbread dressing. The smell of fresh brewing coffee swirled around you as you made your way closer to your favourite local bake shop, enveloping your senses as you walked. You stopped as something - someone caught your eye. You froze in your steps as you peered in the window of the bakery, and you almost gasped in surprise at who you saw standing in line to order. A tall man, with neatly styled dark blonde hair, wire framed glasses, and the most stunning blue eyes you’d ever seen - it had to be him.

Suddenly, he turned and saw you, a large smile on his face as he waved, as if he’d just seen his long lost best friend. In a way, he had. 

Robert Floyd had been your neighbour growing up, his house was two doors down from your parents - a pretty Victorian-Queen Anne style home that sat on the corner of the street. His mother had always kept her garden looking immaculate, like something out of a home and garden magazine. He was the youngest of three kids, with an older brother and older sister who were both outgoing and popular in school - Robert had always been shy and more reserved than his siblings. 

You moved in when you were 6, just getting ready to start the school year in a new town, terrified of your own shadow. The first thing you noticed when you’d moved in, was the Floyd house and its picturesque landscape. That, and the adorable boy around your own age who’d been playing out front, and waved shyly when he saw you through the back window of your parents’ car as you drove past. For the next 12 years, you and Robert Floyd, or Bobby as you’d always called him, had been best friends - practically inseparable friends, in fact. You did everything together possible. From bike rides to church on Sundays to trick-or-treating to sports teams, everything you could do together, you did. It was as though you couldn’t function as a child without Bobby by your side, and vice versa. 

That all changed when Bobby decided to enter the Navy when he turned 18. It was the first time you wouldn’t be going to school together, and the first time since you’d met that he couldn’t be by your side if you needed him. He was leaving you, and you couldn’t help but feel some resentment towards him for it. You’d wanted to tell him the day you graduated high school that you loved him, you’d wanted to beg him to stay or take you with him wherever he was heading, but for whatever reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something inside you had told you that it was futile - he’d always wanted to join the military, since the day you met him, and when you were 10 and he’d joined a Navy League Cadet Corps group, it was like fate had decided what he was going to do in life right then and there. You knew that no amount of love in the world shared between you two would have stopped him, and you also knew that he’d never let you give up on your own aspirations to follow him wherever he went. 

As you walked into the coffee shop, you were captivated by the smell of freshly baked pastries and roasted coffee beans, but everything around you seemed to freeze when you saw him in person - as if the whole world came to a complete standstill at that moment. God, you missed him. You didn’t even realize just how much you’d missed him over the last decade or so it’d been since you’d graduated. He rarely came back to South Carolina for visits, and you hadn’t exactly spent a ton of time in your hometown since college either, but in this moment, it was as if fate had decided again - you needed one another. 

“Kristen? Kristen Taylor, is that you?” His voice sounded the exact same, as if nothing had changed about him in the last 10 or so years. In fact, he even looked the same as he had when you’d graduated high school, even the frames of his glasses had remained the same. 

“Bobby? Wow, it’s been years! It’s so nice to see you,” You smiled fondly as he gently placed one of his large, firm hands on your arm, as if he wasn’t sure a hug was appropriate after so long.

“It’s been too long. Do you have a moment? We could sit and catch up for a few minutes, if you want to? I feel like we lost touch for some reason when I shipped out to training, and I feel like I missed a lot.” He nods sheepishly, almost as if he’s making an admission of guilt. 

“I think I can spare a few minutes,” You nod slowly, smiling as you met his deep blue eyes, “I’m home visiting from New York and just wanted to take it all in, you know? I don’t really have an agenda for today.”

“Perfect,” Robert nods his head as he points to an empty booth by the window, “I’ll wait here for you while you order.”

A few moments later, coffee in hand, you’re sitting opposite him just like you’d done so many times in this very coffee shop when you were teenagers, sipping sweet teas together while sharing a freshly baked cookie or two. He smiled as he set his coffee down and laughed softly, shaking his head as he spoke.

“What have you been up to? You said you’ve been in New York? Like the city? That’s awesome,” He appears completely invested in hearing everything you’ve been up to since he last saw you. 

“Well,” you began to unravel your recent past to him, or as much as you felt comfortable disclosing. You weren’t quite ready to share how you’d had failed relationship after failed relationship since you turned 18, unable to find any man who could compare to him or his sweet demeanor. You didn’t want to tell him that your last relationship ended mercifully as you prepared to walk down the aisle with your ex, and how you got cold feet a few months before the plans were finalized, but didn’t know why that was until today. You had told your ex you just weren’t ready - which wasn’t entirely untrue, but until Bob reentered your life a few minutes ago, it hadn’t dawned on you why you weren’t ready. In reality, it was because no one could ever be Bob. No one could ever give you butterflies like he had, or make you blush when he kissed you on the cheek after asking you to dance at homecoming when you were 15, or hold your hand so protectively as you said goodbye to him when he left for California. 

Instead, you told him how you’d gone to NYU for journalism, how you’d entered the field and loved it instantly, how writing was your passion and you loved it so, and you told him how you’d landed the ideal position, working for a major news network writing copy and scripts for the on-air hosts to read off of, working your way up the corporate food chain to make yourself a producer. You told Bob how New York winters were biting cold at times, but how the freshly fallen snow was almost romantic, and how the sight of Central Park at Christmas was stunning, no movie could do it justice. You told him how you adored the way New York had become like a second home to you, how you felt like you’d found the perfect place for you to thrive, something you’d always struggled with growing up in a small town in the south. 

Robert nodded his head as you spoke, showing deep interest in your every word and thought as you spoke. He never took his gaze away from you and never once appeared bored or as though his mind was elsewhere as you spoke - he was complete invested and hung up on your every word. When you finished, he smiled and sipped his coffee before leaning back slightly in the booth, his eyes widening slightly, the way they often had when you were growing up and he’d been impressed by something he’d read or seen. 

“Wow, you’ve done pretty well for yourself then, I’d say.” He laughs softly, “I haven’t been up to nearly as much, just different tours of duty with the navy, I became a Lieutenant, and became a Naval Weapons Systems Officer, graduated from the Top Gun program, where the top like, 1% of all pilots get called up to. I then joined a task force and did a few more missions with them. I’m still on that task force, but I applied for a leave because it’s been so long since I’ve been home and I haven’t taken a leave in probably,” Robert hums for a moment as he thinks, his cheeks turning red as he speaks, “Honestly? Probably four years. My parents and siblings usually either come to me in California, or I go to my brother’s house in Texas. I don’t often need to come here, but this year my mama wanted to host Thanksgiving, so I opted to come home.”

You noticed that, as Robert spoke, he couldn’t help but keep his focus entirely on you. It was like he was studying your every feature, in case he never got to see them again. The look in his eyes suggested that he never wanted to forget anything about you, as if he was scared that if he didn’t analyze every freckle, every hair on your head and every word that escaped your lips, he’d lose you. Like you’d fade away again, into nothing more than a distant memory. His cheeks continued to blush as he realized he’d been staring at you for longer than he had intended. He shook his head and let out another laugh, this one sounding strained, as if he was trying to cover up any awkwardness that may have arisen because of him. 

“You know, I really am glad we ran into each other again,” he nodded slowly. “You know, you’re still the only person who calls me Bobby. Nowadays, I’m always Bob or Robert, if you’re my parents,” he smiles fondly as he mentions the nickname you’ve called him since the day you met him. You decided that hot August afternoon that Bobby just suited him better. He agreed, and despite his mother’s protests that his name was Robert - it stuck. He was always Bobby to you, and he always would be. 

“Is that so? No other girls have thought to nickname you Bobby as a pet name?” You laughed as you raised an eyebrow before sipping your coffee. You found it hard to believe that he’d never found anyone else. A man as loving and affectionate as Bobby wasn’t something you found every day, you’d learned. In the past decade, you hadn’t managed to do it, despite your best efforts. 

You’d never found a man who matched him perfectly - his sweet personality, his soft spoken nature, his deep baritone voice, his laugh, the way he always protected you fiercely, but yet, always encouraged you to do whatever made you happy, and whatever you felt was best. You’d never met someone who’d rather die for you than ever see you upset. You’d yet to meet another man who’d wiped your tears when you were heartbroken or cuddle up and watch your favourite movie with you over and over again until you smiled when you were having a bad day, or meet another man who made your mother comment with, “Kristen, boys like him don’t come around too often.”. Bobby would always and forever be the only man who could meet all those expectations. 

You knew it was unfair of you, and until today, you didn’t even know why you were doing it, but no man could ever be Bobby. You’d rather spend the rest of your life alone than with anyone who wasn’t him, you’d come to notice. You just prayed he felt the same way, or that you at least could convince him that he did before he went back to California, whenever that was. 

“Nah, come on now, Krissy,” he chuckled as he used his nickname he’d always reserved for you growing up, “You know I’d never meet another girl who I’d let call me that. We could have been apart for 40 years instead of 10, and I still wouldn’t have let anyone else call me Bobby. That’s always been your thing for me. It wouldn’t feel right if someone else called me that, you know?”

“I do. I feel the same about being called Krissy. I don’t think anyone’s called me that since you left,” you nodded slowly as you let out a soft sigh, looking down at the now empty coffee cup on the table in front of you. 

“Krissy?” He said softly, his hand reaching across the table to touch yours ever so gently.  

“Mhmm?” You hummed, not wanting to meet his gaze out of fear that one look at him right now would make you crumble and burst into hysterical tears. 

“You know, I’ve really enjoyed seeing you. Do you think we could see each other again before I go back to base? I leave on Monday, I’m only here for 5 days, unfortunately,” he said quietly, gently holding your hand across the table. You can sense he has more he wants to say, but it’s like he’s struggling to get the words out.

“I think we can make that work, maybe after Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, we could go for a walk? Our folks still live two houses away from one another, so it’s not like we’ll be too far away from each other for the next few days. It’ll be just like old times.” You confirm, nodding your head reassuringly, trying not to seem too eager or excited at the prospect of seeing him every day for the next five days. 

“Sounds good,” Robert smiled warmly as he stood up from the booth, looking down at you with an excited happiness about him, “I’ll come knock on your door after dinner tomorrow then, we can go for a walk like we used to as kids, just enjoy being outside and all that.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you laugh as you shake your head, standing from your seat. 

You smiled softly to yourself as you watched Robert head outside, walking down the street past the window of the coffee shop, his navy quarter zip sweater and dark wash denim jeans suiting him perfectly. You bit your lip to hold back a grin as he walked away. You had five days to work up the courage to tell him how you felt. Five short days. You weren’t sure how you were going to do it, but you were certain about one thing - Bob wasn’t leaving South Carolina without you this time.

[misc-obeyme]

Barb in the shower OOOOUUUUUU he went from being a Victorian maiden all covered up to a WHORE in a snap I CANNOT WITH THE ART DON'T BECKON ME LIKE THAT SIR I AM W E A K barkbarkbarkbarkbark

side note tho, why does Lucifer look like he's getting in position to get bent over and railed 😭😭😭 hello? old man are u good? did you slip and fall getting into the tub????

NSFW MDNI (just suggestive)

A Victorian maiden lol.

My favorite thing about that art is Barb's confidence. I've always thought of him as being really comfortable in his own skin (no matter what his body looks like - whether buff like in the art or a more realistic headcanon) and doesn't have a problem with nudity at all. To me it's more that he prefers to be dressed immaculately butler-style and that just happens to involve being covered from head to toe. It's a matter of pride, right?

Then again, I very much get the sense of MC having stumbled upon him in the shower when they weren't supposed to lol. Though his lines do not make him sound like he's upset about it at all, he does tell you not to touch without permission. Though that's also just a reasonable request, so.

Lucifer just really wants to get railed. I am forever on the switch!Lucifer agenda and if he's comfortable enough with MC that he doesn't immediately toss them out of the bathroom at that point, then he must be comfortable enough to let them know what he really wants. Maybe he did slip initially (which would be hilarious), but now that he's there, he's like yes this is how it should be. Rail me, MC, I am begging you.

[linderosse]

I LOVE YOUR WIELDERS OF WISDOM COMIC!!!! i think its wonderful and so absolutely necessary (if u will excuse my feminism)... the art style is GORGEOUS and im just so grateful someone is giving love to all the zeldas <33

sorry that this is anon but. i dislike being perceived lmao

Thank you so much!!

And heck yeah on the representation front! I’m doing my best to write a variety of interesting characters that will help me tell the stories I want to tell. To me, the fact that they’re mostly women is both incidental and vitally important at the same time.

Tetra was my first Zelda, and I always loved her pirate captain badassery and no-nonsense attitude. I was a bit of a ‘tomboy’ (used in the non-insulting sense, simply referring to a girl who liked traditionally boyish hobbies/clothing) growing up, so I identified with Tetra real hard <3. Heckin’ loved her practical, forthright nature— and the way the games don’t hesitate to show her wackier side and how her actions sometimes get her in trouble— and how she gets out of it, with or without help.

And of course, girls can also be girly and get things done! Love the more traditionally feminine Zeldas as well; shirking feminine mannerisms definitely isn’t a requirement for a well-written female character. You can have a character wear a tiara, battle in a dress, and still be cool. Heck, you can have ’em don a soft gown, not fight at all, and still be an awesome character: maybe she genuinely wants good for the world, or maybe she controls the board with gentle magic and soft “feminine” persuasion to achieve her goals, turning foes into friends— or her pawns.

And characters don’t always have to succeed! Sometimes persuasion fails. Sometimes they argue with someone they know is right. Sometimes her sword falters. But that’s fine! That’s what makes for a good, realistic, fun character— that’s how humans are.

(continued under the cut)

See, I feel like some popular media is trending towards forcing women to be *exclusively* badass, almost flawless in their physical skill yet boyish in their mannerisms.

Like, as a random example: Peach in the Mario movie. Movie Peach no longer giggles and blows kisses, because that would be too girly. And Movie Peach is a perfect platformer and politician, because female empowerment. Same thing with Galadriel in RoP (and it’s honestly a bit different and way worse with RoP Galadriel, because her mother-name is Nerwen which translates to man-maiden and she is canonically a tomboy, but they write it so badly in RoP that not even the rest of the characters in the show respect her for her over-the-top ‘female badassery.’) And as a huge, longtime fan of both the Mario series and the Silmarillion, it kinda hurt to see those Mary Sue-esque, somewhat shallow depictions of what should be complex characters.

Now, the thing is: one or two perfect characters like that are just fine! The problem lies in the fact that many of these shows have only a few female characters to begin with, and they’re all like that. Peach is kinda alright, but Galadriel’s major flaws are barely even shown because the writing has to try to make her look badass even when she’s making objectively terrible decisions.

Because here’s the thing— depicting only perfect women and minimizing flaws isn’t supporting female empowerment. Girls have flaws too, folks. Popular media relying only on the immaculate femme fatale badass just makes for a more cliche story, and imposes higher standards on young girls who look up to these characters. And the forced boyishness forces standards as well.

Why can’t Peach flutter her eyelashes, giggle, and still knock bad guys on their asses? Or, better yet, why can’t Peach flutter her eyelashes, giggle, knock bad guys on their asses, help Mario out, also get helped by Mario, and maybe admit that it took practice for her to get to where she is now?

That’s how she used to be in the middle Mario era, like Super Mario RPG, Thousand Year Door, and Super Paper Mario. Peach was feminine and still relatable to a young tomboy like myself.

I’ve rambled on for far too long, but anyways, that’s what I’m gonna try to do here with the Wisdomverse: tell stories of a bunch of different types of people, where each of them has their own take on what it means to be Zelda.

I can’t promise I’ll be perfect at writing this either, honestly. Perhaps I’ll fall into some of the same traps— I’m sure it’s hard to avoid them.

And perhaps my thoughts on this will evolve over time as well, and I’ll later have an even better understanding of how to write the characters I want to write.

Either way, I’ll certainly do my best!

Tl;dr: I got really sidetracked, but thank you for the kind message! Glad to hear you’re enjoying Wielders of Wisdom; hope to keep building my characters into interesting and at least somewhat complex women as things progress :)

[snowyh2o]

Hazbin Hotel Episode 7&8 Spoilers:

Ok, ok. I’ve finally calmed down a bit. I have. SO many thoughts on Alastor, that I’m just not gonna touch on them in this post, aside from I FUCKING KNEW HE WAS LOSING IT FBSKDNFBSHHDHFBS.

But what I wanna focus on is Rosie! And how she’s been described as the nicest overlord. And how Cannibal Town is like, the nicest place we’ve seen in hell??? The streets are relatively clean, no one is trynna kill each other. There’s so many people out on the streets, just? Going about their days? Aside from the fact that they’re all cannibals, it’s almost like any other town you’d visit! (I am not familiar enough with the fashion styles over the years to like, accurately date what time period Cannibal Town is supposed to reflect, but it feels old (and somewhere Alastor would fit right in with) lol).

And then we actually meet with Rosie, and she’s in the middle of consulting one of her people, where there’s a HUGE line up of others looking like they’re waiting to consult with her too! And like, even before she spoke with Charlie about her love life, she’s giving advice and comfort and support and connecting to the lady she’s speaking with who apparently wants to eat her husband. Before saying that she’ll set the man straight if the lady sends him to her, and gives her a card if she ever needs any more help.

Like. First minute into seeing Rosie and like. WOW. You can IMMEDIATELY tell that this is the reason why everyone in Cannibal Town’s so chill and happy? Why there’s such a sense of order and security in a place that’s basically just anarchy?

Rosie is both the Overlord, the unofficial mayor, the therapist and consultant and your best friend all wrapped up into one. She’s got an entire lineup of people who are waiting to tell her their woes and listen to her advice. And she’s happy to help!

Even the actual cannibalism is like, so posh and proper? Or it’s treated in Cannibal Town as like, normal food. But also it’s very telling that no one’s killing each other for said cannibalism. In fact, the only times we’ve seen them do so is after an extermination, when there’s a bunch of dead bodies that aren’t reviving lying around. (And they seem to lose their manners when eating then) It is likely tho that they just, target outsiders, since everyone we saw aside from Alastor and Charlie were a part of Cannibal Town.

Just the Juxtaposition of a town literally full of Cannibals being probably THE nicest place in hell for sinners to live in??? Immaculate.

Also, Rosie’s snide comment on how Alastor’s got no manners when it comes to being offered food LOL. And, I just LOVE their relationship and interaction. First time chatting in years and she’s already offering up place with a deal for Alastor to go make. That AMAZING little joke about him being Ace and having it COMPLETELY flying over his head. Alastor letting her touch him, and how genuinely excited and happy the two of them are just talking and interacting. Their little duet in the middle of the song, the way Rosie pulls Alastor out of his scheming to just enjoy the moment. Their dance!!! She’s never been wronged by Alastor before!!! She trusts him to follow through on his side of the unofficial bargain/favor. Looking like proud parents when Charlie finds the courage to sing her pitch. I love, everything about these two, oh my god.

Anyways!!! Back to Rosie being just, a genuinely good aunt? And giving so much good advice for Charlie. Asking her the questions that needed to be asked. Rosie has, such good insight? On what the issue was, and why Vaggie would’ve kept something from her. She didn’t shy away from how big the secret was, but she also didn’t let Charlie spiral into questioning every little part of their relationship. And that little end but when she’s saying that Vaggie is flawed, but so is everyone else down in hell. GAWD. How it’s difficult to admit your regrets. Like, if that isn’t the core of the show, the core of Charlie’s dream, then I don’t know what is. Rosie cut through to the heart of the matter, she didn’t tell Charlie what she should feel or how she should act, but asked her what she’s actually feeling, and why, and told her to trust herself and her own judgement on if Vaggie’s actions were sincere or not. Man she’s such a good therapist.

(I’m half convinced Alastor didn’t just bring Charlie to Cannibal Town and see Rosie just because they needed support and numbers to fight against the exorcists, but also because she’s the best person he knows who can give out good relationship advice and he’s getting a little tired of Charlie venting at him. Especially now that she’s past the self loathing phase and has stepped into the unrestrained anger and frustration at someone else phase)

Also, unrelated topic but here’s a thought: only angel steel/holy weapons/powers can do permanent damage to someone’s body/soul. Vaggie’s eye is torn out by Lute’s exorcist blade, but her wings were just ripped off by hand. Vaggie’s eye never regenerated or recovered, but she was able to regrow her wings. Alastor was struck by Adam’s holy weapon across his chest. What if the injury never fully recovers?

And also, Alastor’s talk about “unclipping” his wings. My friend, once a bird’s wings are clipped they can’t be unclipped! You have to wait for the feathers to shed and grow in new ones. To regenerate. Also what is this talk about you having wings??? Don’t tell me you’re ALSO a secret angel??? Probably not cause your blood is red BUT. Where are you hiding those supposed clipped wings of yours eh?!

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬

⬷ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞┊ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: dancer!minho/artist!felix. brothers best friend troupe. college au. age gap (abt 4 years). minho pov. extremely dark themes throughout, including smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

word count: 3.2k

the playlist 🗡️

a/n: I've written sooo much of this recently, I'm literally on chapter 10 already!! 😭 I have plans to probably make it 15 chapters long, which I feel like is a good length for the type of story and narrative im fitting into once piece. I wanna make sure all of the loose ends are tied off in a perfect kinda way before I move onto the next project. ☺️ this is the first chapter where we get some TRUE backstory on what really happened between minlix during the time when they were growing up... there's some insinuations in this chapter that will make a lot more sense later on in the story haha... but for right now, I hope you guys are enjoying slowly putting the puzzle pieces together~ 💗

🗡️ - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation! ࿐ྂ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

̶﹒⊹﹒ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴜsᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ғʟᴀʀᴇ  ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ sᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ！،، 🌌  𖥻 𓂃 ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ɪs ᴀɴ ɪɴᴅᴇx ғɪɴɢᴇʀ  ᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘs╰╮ 🌑

  After the night of the party at Felix’s place, Minho never uttered another word about it. As soon as he had stepped into the door of his shared dorm with Chris, and his best friend saw the defeated grayness of his face — the stormy crimson rage in his eyes — Chris quickly figured out what had happened. 

  But Chris never dangled it over his head that he had been right the whole time. Instead, he just gave Minho a long hug and said goodnight to him. 

  Minho’s other friends acted similarly, pretending that everything was fine and that they definitely hadn’t heard rumors about the party that night and what had gone down at Felix’s Dorm.

  So instead of focusing on the past and shit he couldn’t change, Minho threw himself into his studies. He and Hyunjin had a big project they were working on together for one of their fall semester exams, which took up most of his time. And when he wasn’t spending hours at the studio practicing on campus, he was at his apprenticeship gig, teaching young middle-schoolers classical and modern dance styles. 

  Lee Minho was a very busy man, that, everyone knew. And he also knew that the more cloudy his mind was with dark thoughts, the more he’d push himself. The more he’d work, work, work, until one day… he'd face an ugly burnout. 

  But for right then, he was completely fine. Surely, the burnout was very far down the road… 

  He couldn’t help but hear the rumors, though. About Felix and his crazy friends and the times he was caught having sex with all kinds of people around campus. Minho even saw it with his own two eyes once — when he stopped at the cafeteria to grab a quick bite for lunch before heading to his critical dance theory class. He noticed movement in the very back corner of the place, and there… Felix was. 

  Blond locks disheveled, immaculately dressed, and dripping in pearls and light violet hues. There was a girl with fire-engine red hair right beside him, seemingly resisting the urge to climb onto his lap at that moment. They were making out like there weren’t at least a hundred people around them and it wasn’t an open, public space.

  Felix had his hands wrapped in the girl’s firey hair, and the purple against the red of their aesthetics caused a shocking display of colors in Minho’s mind. But mostly, he tried to ignore it all. Just like everyone else around him was doing. So he quickly grabbed his food and escaped from the cafeteria as fast as he possibly could. 

  There was no use sticking around to watch another person stick their tongues down Lee Felix’s throat. There was never any use in crying over spilled milk. 

  “Minho— what the fuck has gotten into you? You keep misstepping on this part when just a few weeks ago you were doing fine.” Hyunjin said a week later, frustratingly running a hand through his dark locks. They had been in the practice room on campus for most of the day, tirelessly running through the choreo for their routine. The exam’s deadline was in a week and they couldn’t afford to laze around until then. 

  Taking a long swig of his cold water bottle, Minho pressed his back against the practice room’s mirror, offering his friend a deep frown. “I’m sorry Hyunjinnie, I just— I don’t know, haven’t been myself lately…” 

  He let his voice drawl on into the silence after that. Because they both knew the catalyst for why that was. The practice room grew quiet after that since it was just the two of them what with it being so late on a Friday night. Everyone was busy partying outside the campus grounds or in their dorms sleeping off the stress of exams. 

  “Is it… Felix?” Hyunjin asked, slowly sitting down beside Minho and taking out one of his fidget toys from his gym bag. The guy always had at least five on him at all times — claimed it helped calm him down when he was stressed. Spinning the pink and black fidget spinner between one hand, he reached over and squeezed Minho’s knee in a comforting gesture. “You know, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But it’s just that… we’re all kinda worried about you. We just wanna help as much as we can.” 

  Turning his head to look at Hyunjin, Minho noticed the way his friend's dark brows were wrinkled with concern. The way his eyes sparkled as they searched his face, pulling for any answers he could find there.

  “I know, and I’m really sorry. It’s just… I guess, I didn’t expect to see him again, after such a long time. Chris never talked about him or where he was planning on going after high school, so it kinda came as a shock.” Minho said slowly, trying to find the right words as he shrugged nonchalantly. But the feelings he had were anything but nonchalant.

  “Are you mad at Chris for not telling you? I mean, it is kinda weird that he never really mentioned his younger brother, but I suppose that’s because he felt there was no need to. It’s not like you and Felix were best friends growing up, right?” 

  Even though Minho knew Hyunjin was right, his words still hurt. Hurt like ice picks digging into his heart, ripping it to shreds with each bit of truth and reality. 

  Even still, Minho could feel the wallowing sadness bubble up inside of him. “Y-Yeah… we had an… interesting relationship growing up. He was always seen as the annoying, little innocent younger brother. We didn’t hang out that much, but the times that we did— it was nice, I guess.” Minho found himself playing with the battered hem of his oversized t-shirt, completely avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze. Because Hyunjin was perceptive like that and could read anyone like a book with just a single glance. 

  Hyunjin let out a long sigh, slumping against the mirror behind them. “I think I understand, though. To some extent. It must feel weird, seeing him again after so many years, and to have him be so changed,” Minho watched, as Hyunjin’s long fingers spun the fidget in his hands over and over again. It was relaxing for Minho too, even if he wasn’t the one playing with it. “He’s the opposite of how you always knew him, you know? That’s gotta hurt in some way. I’m sorry, Min, that’s a lot to deal with.”

  Minho’s eyes trailed over to the studio’s windows, noticing how dark it was. How late it was becoming. He could just barely catch a glimpse of the moon shining high up in the sky, already halfway across the sky. “It’s not just that, though… sometimes, we’d hang out without Chris. When he was out of town for a school field trip or some dumb shit like that.” Minho’s voice came out as quiet and soft as a dove’s feather. Almost like, if he said it too loudly, the whole campus would hear and berate him for details. 

  There was a long bout of silence after that. It felt like a confession that he had never made before. He could feel Hyunjin tense up a little bit next to him, just from knowing that this was extremely sensitive information and vital to the situation at hand. 

  “Does… Chris know about this?” 

  Of course, that’s the first thing Hyunjin would ask. Always putting others first. It was a sensible thing to wonder, too- since Chris was their best friend and Felix’s younger brother. 

  “Not really,” Minho whispered, swallowing against the dry lump that was starting to form in the base of his throat. He could feel his heart slowly constricting in his chest at the topic change. He was fine talking about their childhood and shit, but not… that part of it. “I mean, yeah— he knew we sometimes hung out when he wasn’t around, but I don’t think he realized how… impactful that shit was to us.” 

  He was still staring out the studio’s nearby window, still studying the half-crescent moon. And the more he looked at it, the more he was reminded of… his face. Milky, like the moon, shining always and— 

  “When you say impactful… what do you exactly mean by that?”

After Hyunjin's question, there was a long bout of silence. As Minho's thought paused in his head, and he weighed his options... tell the truth, or keep lying about the past once again? In the end, he chose the former. 

  “I mean like, we fucking fell in love with each other.” 

  After that admission, the air in the studio suddenly constricted. Like a bowstring, everything drew taught and frozen. And just like that, Minho was turning his attention back to Hyunjin. Studying the look on his face. For a moment, he was entirely surprised, and then that melted into gentle understanding. 

  “And I’m assuming Chris never knew about that part?” Hyunjin simply asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow as he spun the fidget in his hands a little faster. 

  Letting out a sardonic kind of cackle, Minho flashed his friend a fake, bright grin. “Yeah, because it’s definitely not weird that an eighteen-year-old was in love with a fucking thirteen-year-old.” He gave Hyunjin a thumbs up, trying to brush it off like it was simply a funny joke. But in actuality, it was a lot deeper than that. 

  Hyunjin stopped playing with his fidget then, reaching out with one hand and taking ahold of Minho’s. He squeezed it tenderly, forcing Minho’s attention back onto him. Hyunjin’s face melted into sympathy, eyes dancing with a myriad of emotions. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been a lot to deal with. But really, the age gap isn’t that absurd. I mean, I knew plenty of couples growing up that had even bigger ranges than you guys.” 

  Minho squeezed Hyunjin’s fingers back, noticing how the feel of human touch was keeping him grounded in reality at that moment. Helping to stop his heart from beating out of his ribcage and chest. “I know. But it just… it felt different between us. I don’t know, it’s really hard to explain. We just— we bonded over our shared depression and love for video games and art and—” 

  “Sounds like you guys had a lot of similarities.” 

  “Yeah. And now… it’s the opposite.” 

  Slowly, Hyunjin began drawing senseless shapes across Minho’s palm. And Minho knew why he was doing it — Hyunjin could always understand when Minho needed help, needed someone to guide him through returning his thoughts to normal. 

  “I can see that. I think, you probably liked Felix for who he was back when you were growing up. That innocence, and how it sounds like he looked at the world with rose-colored glasses on,” Hyunjin started in a quiet tone, tracing hearts on Minho’s skin and making the older man giggle a tiny bit. “But now, he’s changed a lot and it feels like a bucket of ice water was just thrown over your head. Even still, you have to remember that you’ve probably changed a lot too— you’re not the same young boy that Felix fell in love with. And five years is a big gap of time to have not seen each other, so you have no idea what Felix went through during your absence to have such a metamorphosis in his adult life now.” 

  And just at the mere thought of Felix going through such bad hardships in his past that he turned out to be so degenerate and crazed in university, Minho could feel his entire body tightening up. He squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, practically feeling his racing pulse in the pit of his throat. 

  “Oh fuck— I hope nothing like that happened to him. I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do if—”

  Hyunjin squeezed his shoulder tightly, bringing him out of his reverie of panicked thought. “Min, stop. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But what I meant is… He’s probably experienced things that have made him change into the person he is today. Try to understand things from his point of view." 

  Minho leaned his head against the mirror at his back, squeezing his eyes shut. And as soon as he did, he saw visions of Felix. Of being in high school alone back in their hometown, suffering all kinds of shit at the hands of the cruel kids there. He didn’t want to imagine it, but he also couldn’t be naive. He knew the kinds of people that lived in their small coastal hometown in Busan. He knew how mean the kids at school could be, how merciless. And Felix probably had walked in there as a beautiful beacon of light. Minho didn’t even want to imagine the kind of shit he was probably put through at high school alone. 

  “He threatened me when I was leaving his place during the party. He told me to never come back to his dorm.” Minho blurted out, clearing his head of the depressing visions of Felix growing up. Instead, he focused on the way the younger man had looked at him that night, near the elevator. So full of rage and anguish. “He was so fucking angry with me— and goddamn it but I was so mean to him.” 

  “Having a shitty college house party be the first time you guys hang out in almost five years probably wasn’t the best idea,” Hyunjin said slowly, finally pulling his hands away from Minho and focusing back on his fidget. “It’s understandable why you two would be on edge with each other. There’s a lot of water and shit under the bridge.” 

  Carding a few fingers between his hair, Minho pulled at the roots as he held his head in his palms. “Hyunjin he was teasing me at the party with his friends— he was trying to fucking make me jealous, I swear to God.”

  “Well… did it work?” 

  “I— I guess… I don’t know!” He burst out, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. “Sorry, I just… I hate feeling this way and not knowing what to do about it.” 

  Hyunjin let them sit in the quietness of the practice room for a little bit after that, allowing Minho to collect his words and thoughts. Minho could slowly feel his breathing regulating again and his heart beating at a normal pace once more. 

  “So then does that mean… that you still love him, Min?”

  Staring down at his clasped hands, Minho studied the way his hands were so calloused from dance practice. He did as much as he could to help the problem — exfoliated and moisturized — but nothing seemed to work except taking a break from dance. Which was never going to happen. 

  “No,” He finally said, shaking his head slowly. But even as the words left his mouth, they didn’t feel quite right. “I mean, it would be stupid for me to. We’re both so different from who we were during our childhood. And we're too far apart in age and maturity."

  Hyunjin shrugged slowly before he shoved his fidget toy away in his duffle bag and took a long swig from his Pocari Sweat bottle. “I mean, it really isn’t that far-fetched. At your core, you guys are still the same people. You just hang out with different friends and lead different lives these days. But you’re still interested in the same things as before— art and video games and whatever other shit.”

  “Hyunjin, no. It’d be fucking weird. I’m a senior and he’s a freshman. I'm going to be graduating in under six months and he just started. There’s no way in hell I’m dealing with that bullshit.” 

  Just then, Minho’s friend finally stood up from his spot on the hard, wooden floor. He gathered up his things and then offered a hand out to Minho. Taking ahold of it, Hyunjin hoisted him up and offered a slow grin as Minho grabbed his bag. 

  “You guys are both adults now. That kinda taboo shit you felt back in the day is irrelevant now,” Pulling out his car keys, Hyunjin started leading them to the front doors of the studio. Hyunjin shared a dorm with Changbin that was about a twenty-minute drive from campus. “So my advice on everything? Just go with whatever your heart and mind wants. If that’s to never speak again, great. But if that means something more… I’d say, do it.” 

  Minho offered him the best smile he could muster at that moment, completely depleted of all energy and emotion. “Thanks, Hyunjinnie. You’re the best and I’m glad you’re such a good friend and listener to my crazy problems.” He said, squeezing Hyunjin's arm just as they made their way outside into the chilly autumn air.

  “Now we should both go home and get some rest. We need to replenish our energy for that stupid exam next week.” Hyunjin said, stepping over to the nearby parking lot and unlocking his electric Toyota Camry. “Oh, also— I’m gonna be gone all weekend. My family’s celebrating my grandma’s ninetieth birthday back in our hometown in Jeju.” 

  “Have fun and take it easy Jinnie. I’ll see you on Monday for another ball-crushing week of practice.” Minho shouted across the parking lot, giving Hyunjin a wave as his friend rolled his eyes sarcastically. 

  And then Minho was watching Hyunjin pull out of the lot and drive off. Suddenly faced with the silence of only his presence, he realized how heavy his shoulders had felt before talking about everything. Just like that, Hyunjin had helped him tremendously. Without Minho even realizing it, he had been holding onto a lot of shit for the past few weeks. Seeing Felix, and going to the party that night, definitely stirred up a lot of murky feelings inside of him. 

  Sure, nothing was solved and he still had a lot to process and work through. But the fact that he was even strong enough to get it out of his system accounted for something. 

  As Minho walked back to the dorm that he shared with Chris, he decided to fling himself into the work of perfecting the choreo for their exam. That way, once Hyunjin came back from his weekend trip, they’d be all ready to go for the final few practices. 

  Besides, distracting himself from everything with a long weekend in the studio would do Minho a lot of good. 

  Help him take his mind off of it all. 

  Take his mind off of thinking about Felix and what they used to be and what they could’ve been and— 

  Yes, dancing would suffice as a therapy.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

🖤 taglist: want to be added onto my taglist? well then, comment below on this post/reblog it, and indicate your interest in my taglist and i'll add you... or, you can send me a msg and request to be added!! to be removed from the taglist, please send me a msg and i will promptly take you off of the list.

🖤 tags: @sleepyleeji :: @if-spearb :: @hyunes4ngel :: @drhsthl :: @seosalad :: @toomuchtellyneck :: @endzii23 :: @smally97 :: @ana-marais98 :: @sherryblossom :: @priincehoseok :: @biribarabiribbaem :: @/leyknxw :: @linovely :: @lolqxv :: @linonyang :: @morningstardada :: @taeriffic :: @day6andetcetera :: @hyuka-luvbot :: @linohumina :: @urmomma0324 :: @poisonivy2 :: @nappynapnaps :: @/annsunakai :: @bellamuerte1987 :: @julciaqwerty :: @abbiestearsricochet :: @leeknowsramen :: @maeleelee :: @cb97breathing :: @/wealwayskeepfighting :: @armystay89 :: @drhsthl :: @skzcollision :: @noellllslut :: @skz-streamer :: @hello-2-u-from-me :: @h0p3l3ssromantic :: @bangchanbighandsome :: @imastraykidsfan :: @feellikecinderella :: @hyundumpling :: @/weirdkoaladuck ::@hyunnieshannie :: @astralis-is-typing :: @ivyisnotokay

a red tag means that there was an error in tagging you. please check your settings for further information.

[dressed-euphoric]

The Induction

By. Euphoric Dressed

A college student attempts to infiltrate a group. The photo is used as an inspiration. Word Count: 7600

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” my friend exclaimed, his eyes reflecting a lingering sense of letdown. 

“It’ll be fun!” I playfully nudged my friend while extending the pamphlet before him. “Don’t you want to see what goes behind these meetings?”

I could immediately sense he was nowhere as piqued as I was. He rolled his eyes dismissively when I took the pamphlet from a random man a while ago. The man was unusual and everyone could tell he was not your average Joe. 

The man exuded an air of immaculateness. His black hair neatly combed in a conservative manner. He had on a dark charcoal suit that draped on perfectly. His black leather shoes, devoid of any blemishes, gleamed of a mirror shine. His shirt boasted a starched precision, his tie formed a formulated dimple, and his pants displayed razor sharp creases. How would I be if I were to be in his position? The mere thought made me recoil. Could I ever envision myself dressed as he was? Absolutely not. It was out of the question. 

"I'm not that insane," my friend dismissed the invitation.

I lowered my gaze to the paper and observed the intricate details. My eyes scanned across the displayed photos of the individual men. They too were dressed in suits.

"Discover more about our essence and enrich your life today," I read aloud.

He groaned, echoing the reservation swirling in my mind. “That’s how they lure you in, and make you apart of them.”

"Where's your faith in me?" I asked him, seriousness etched on my face. "You know I won't fall for this stuff!”

"Well, I won't be going," he replied firmly.

"Oh, come on!" I whined. "You can't leave me hanging!"

"I'm not going anywhere near that stuff," he persisted.

"You're abandoning me?"

"It was your idea!" he shot back.

"Fine. You'll miss out.”

"Yeah, let me know how it goes," he smirked at me.

I rolled my eyes and looked at him. "It's going to be an epic tale of my infiltration."

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

The following day, I stood before the mirror. As I examined my t-shirt and jeans, my thoughts drifted to the suited stranger I had encountered on the street. Would I appear out of place?

I laughed. Why should I even care? It was just one meeting, and all I had to do was step inside and witness the nonsense being propagated. With a smile playing on my lips, I gathered the last remnants of my courage. This was it. I was going to infiltrate them. 

As I arrived, the building appeared ordinary, with only a handful of individuals gathered at the entrance. Just as I had anticipated, the attendees had an air of refinement, dressed in dress shirts and ties, trousers, and well polished leather shoes. 

I approached them, and they regarded me with a peculiar stare. I had assumed that I wouldn't blend in, yet they greeted me with smiles. Their eyes revealed a hidden excitement, as if they believed a lost soul like me would willingly join their cause. But there was no chance of that happening.

The entrance led to a corridor, guarded by two suited men. The number of people visiting the place seemed limited. Those who did attend stood out, much like myself, among the established members of the organization.

I observed their interaction with the two men, then they proceeded further down the hallway. I followed suit and approached the man stationed behind a desk. 

He was engrossed in scribbling notes on a piece of paper, but as he glanced up, our eyes met. His neatly combed brown hair was meticulously styled to the side, accentuated by a precise part. His short brown beard was flawlessly groomed. Then there was his dark suit that highlighted his physique. My gaze lingered upon his navy striped tie. How could anyone wear such a thing around their neck!?

“Mr. Porter.” He extended his hands. I reciprocated, but his firm was heavier than mine. 

"We don't often see many young folks around here," he smiled and then glanced down at his logbook. "What's your name and phone number?"

"Mike," my voice squeaked out filled with nerves. Then, I provided him with a fictitious phone number. 

He moistened his finger and turned the pages, scanning for my name.

"You're not on the list," he informed me. "Did you register?"

"I have to register?" A lump formed in my throat.

"Don't worry. Let me check if there's anyone on the list who will be willing to take you in," he searched through the papers again.

"What do you mean?" I asked, fearing the implications of his statement.

“Oh, we have a mentorship program where we pair young men like you with a member. It’s meant to facilitate your transition.” 

"No, I won't need that," I interjected hastily, realizing immediately that it was something to avoid.

He continued without a care to my response. Did he even hear me? Or did he choose to ignore me? 

"Here we go," he tapped on the paper, presumably the person he had found. "Mr. Burton will be pleased to take you under his wing."

"Wait," I tried to stop him, but he raised his hands and reached out to his phone to dial. The phone connected and my heart sank as he mentioned me.

"He will be here shortly," he acknowledged, giving me a nod.

I simply nodded in return and stepped aside, deciding it was better not to arouse suspicion. My gaze fixated on the approaching bystanders. Some were dressed, while others were like me. 

Those who were in suits headed towards a separate entrance, guided by two individuals donning charcoal suits. The rest of them made their way through the main entrance. 

After a few moments, a voice announced itself.

"You must be Mike?" it asked.

Startled from my reverie, I turned to face an older gentleman. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and a partially white scruffy beard adorned his face. Round eyeglasses complemented his facial features. Like the others, he was no exception when it came to attire. He sported an exquisite gray suit, tailored impeccably to his frame, along with a white dress shirt and a yellow striped tie.

This was it. Heat began to radiate through my body as I extended my hand for a handshake. "Mr. Burton?"

There was no turning back now.

"That's me," he grinned, reciprocating the gesture. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Like…Likewise," I managed to choke out.

His handshake was firm, in stark contrast to my own lackluster grip. It surely didn't leave the best impression, but I couldn't dwell on it too much. He stood there with an air of distinction, while I felt insignificant in comparison. I wouldn't say I was scared of him, but he certainly was daunting. 

"Come this way," he motioned for me to follow him into a separate hallway. I glanced around, noticing that no one else seemed to be heading in our direction.

"Are we going the right way?" My voice quivered. 

He chuckled warmly, "it seems like you're familiar with this place."

"Oh. No," I quickly retracted my statement, feeling ashamed of my comment. There must be a reason why Mr. Burton was deviating from the standard protocol. I didn't know what to expect, but I followed him obediently, like a lamb.

"We don't often see many young people here. How old are you, boy?" he inquired.

"Yeah, Mr. Porter mentioned it. I'm 21," I replied, slightly taken aback by being referred to as a "boy." "Young man" would have sufficed.

"As Mr. Porter may have mentioned, we have a mentorship program in place to help young individuals like yourself transition into the group," he explained.

I nodded nervously, acknowledging his words.

"As you know, young people can be more resistant to these kinds of ideals," he commented, hinting at the challenges of acceptance within the organization.

I couldn’t help but laugh inside. He was right. There was absolutely no way I would ever be interested in any of this. Did he seriously think I would consider joining their group? Not to mention how they were all dressed, there was no way I could be like that! I shook my head in disbelief, wondering how people could become so trapped and revolve their lives around such things.

"So, what will we be doing?" I asked, attempting to extract more information from him.

"I thought I'd give you a warm welcome," he replied kindly, as he began approaching a door.

"Right this way," he said, opening the door and extending his arms to invite me in.

I stepped into the dark room, dimly lit by a single lightbulb, with two foldable chairs positioned in the center. The door closed behind me as he entered the room. I glanced back at the door, then shifted my gaze back to the man standing before me.

He chuckled, breaking the silence. "I know how this may appear, but the door isn't locked."

"Okay..." I let out a nervous laugh.

"I thought I could bring you here, so I can get to know you better," he confessed, settling into one of the chairs. As he crossed his legs, I noticed his gray socks peeking out from underneath his trousers. It was the first time I truly took notice of his black dress shoes, polished to a high degree of shine.

He extended his hands towards the vacant chair in front of him. "Come, have a seat."

Following his guidance, I sat across from him. My throat felt heavy, and my nerves were on edge. He wanted to know more about me... Then, the realization hit me hard—I didn't have a story.

"So, boy, tell me about yourself," he said casually.

I flinched at his words, feeling his gaze penetrating into me. Would I slip up? What if he discovered the true reason for my presence here?

"I..." My voice croaked, my mind racing for something to say.

He noticed my hesitation and offered a comforting smile. "I apologize if it feels like an interview. It's natural to be nervous in a situation like this."

If there was one thing remarkable about Mr. Burton, it was his smile. A grinning eminence of warmth and ease. There was a man like this, here. 

"I don't mind," I blurted out, trying to sound confident.

And so, I began to weave a tale about myself—a fabricated version of me.

I introduced myself as Mike, a 21-year-old college student nearing the end of my studies. I mentioned my uncertain future, lacking prospects for a job or a clear path in life, which ultimately led me to this place.

I sprinkled in a mix of fake hobbies along with a few genuine ones, embellishing the lie to make it more convincing.

Mr. Burton sat there, his smile unwavering. He listened attentively, occasionally offering a comment or two. It was easy to forget that he was a man in a suit; he seemed so genuine and down-to-earth. There was something about him that drew me in.

He leaned forward, displaying a genuine interest in what I had to say. He laughed at my jokes and sang with agreement.

As I continued to weave my tale, a part of me longed for him to know the real me. I had to admit, he wasn't at all what I had expected. There was a gentle charm about him that assuaged my worries. If he weren't a part of this group, perhaps I would have genuinely enjoyed getting to know him better.

"Tell me about your family. Do your parents know that you're here?" 

I chuckled and shook my head. "No, my mom is working hard back at home, and, well..."

I didn’t know why but my mind conjured what seemed plausible, “my dad passed away when I was little, so I had a harder time growing up. So you know, without a figure in life, I was a bit rebellious growing up.” 

Mr. Burton nodded empathetically, his eyes filled with understanding. What was it about those eyes that captivated me as the lies spilled out of my lips.

"That must have been challenging for you," his soft voice melded with compassion. 

"Yeah... it was," I replied, lowering my voice as if sharing a deeply personal secret.

In reality, I hadn't lost my father. In fact, my family was ordinary and happy. My parents were well-off, and I had a bright future ahead of me, following in their footsteps—school, job, and eventually starting a family of my own.

But as Mr. Burton expressed his understanding, a pang of guilt tugged at my conscience. Somehow, my words had convinced him that I was on a journey of self-discovery.

"If I had to guess, you're here because you're seeking a new sense of direction," he commented perceptively.

"Yeah," I affirmed, trying to match his understanding tone. Definitely. I definitely came here for a new sense of direction. 

He rose from his chair, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. Confusion filled me as he approached me suddenly, his embrace engulfing me, drawing me close to his chest.

A rush of warmth enveloped me, evoking a sense of safety and comfort that felt foreign in this context. No. No… this wasn’t what I came here for. My heart pounded against his chest as his hand rhythmically patted and rubbed my back.

"You don't have to worry anymore, Mike. I'm here for you," he reassured me with a sincerity that caught me off guard.

His presence surrounded me like a soothing breeze, and his warmth washed over me like gentle waves lapping at the shore. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of an idyllic sunset, its hues reflecting upon the tranquil ocean. Strangely, a part of me wanted to hold onto this feeling.

Though I knew his sympathy was directed towards the fabricated version of me, I couldn't shield myself from the genuine comfort he provided.

"We can help you here," his voice broke the silence, brushing against my ear. "I can help you."

I stood in silence, caught between the allure of his offer and the realization of my ulterior motives. Yet, he drew me even closer, holding me tightly. My face pressed against his soft, gentle dress shirt as my arms instinctively wrapped around his back. The earthy scent of pine trees mixed with a subtle hint of leather filled my senses.

I hadn't anticipated this intimate encounter. What was this? I was perfectly normal… but to be embraced by him made my gut scream in anticipation. This wasn't part of the plan. This was not it. I should start focusing on… what… was… this smell? His smell was heavenly intoxicating. 

All the tension in my muscles melted away as he pulled back slightly, meeting my gaze with his deep blue eyes. "You've made the right choice, boy," he affirmed.

"I..." My words trailed off, captivated by the mesmerizing depth of his eyes. They seemed to hold the secrets of the vast ocean, yet the surface waves were so soothing. If Mr. Burton deemed it the right choice, then perhaps it truly was. What was I here for again?

"I know what you need," he stated with confidence.

"Which is...?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"What sizes do you wear?" he inquired, his tone gentle.

Without hesitation, I shared my shirt, pants, and shoe sizes, as if compelled to do so. There was an odd sense of surrender in that moment, as if I had relinquished control.

A smile curved on his lips. "Stay here, and I will be back shortly."

Anxious anticipation filled me as I nodded in response. I mustered a wry smile as he left the room. Deep down, I knew what awaited me if he was asking for my sizes. This was my chance to leave, to escape this place. I had gone too far, and it was not baring well for me.

But the thought of Mr. Burton leaked into my mind and suddenly a whirlpool of curiosity and intrigue opened up. It revealed an entirely new world beneath the surface. What would it be like to be mentored by him, to truly get to know him? Did it even matter if he was part of this group?

The mere idea of being under his guidance ignited a nervous tremor within me. Was I going mad? What was I thinking? Yet, a surge of excitement coursed through my body, heat flushing my face with warmth. What was this feeling?

The door swung open, extinguishing any flicker of hope for escape. I tried to reassure myself that everything would be alright, that I could still accomplish my mission.

In Mr. Burton's hand, he held a stack of garment bags, and dread washed over me. The sight of those bags could only mean one thing: I was about to be enveloped in the same attire worn by the rest of their members. Was I prepared for that? 

The thought of wearing their fine dress shirts and exquisite trousers seemed unimaginable. Me, in a suit? It felt like an absurd notion. Yet, there stood Mr. Burton, radiating warmth and confidence in his tailored suit. The way it accented his form was undeniably attractive. In that moment, I found myself longing to be like him, to be under his guidance.

"Thank goodness we have them in your size, isn't that great?" he exclaimed joyfully as he approached the center of the room.

I forced a smile, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yeah. What's in the bag?"

A part of me already knew the answer, but I had to ask. He gently placed the bag on the chair and turned his attention back to me, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Just a simple initiation. Nothing too daunting.” He assured me as he reached into the bag and retrieved a package. 

He approached me with it, his voice assuring, “see, nothing bad.”

My gaze fixated on the package. As he opened it, revealing a pair of white undergarments, I couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension. A nylon undershirt and a white underwear stared back at me.

He handed me the garments, and I held them in my hands, my body tense with uncertainty. Should I accept them? No, it felt like a surrender, a step towards becoming one of them.

I glanced back at him, and his expression shifted upon meeting my hesitant gaze. Has my body language betrayed my doubts?

"I understand what you're thinking," he sighed, his tone empathetic. "Here, let me show you something."

Time seemed to slow as my eyes widened, witnessing what unfolded before me. His hands gravitated towards his belt, the familiar sound of a buckle being undone filling the air. He removed his belt, and a mixture of curiosity and unease coursed through me.

What was he doing!? What was I seeing?

His hands reached towards his trousers, unclasping them. His attention then shifted to the zipper. The sound echoed in the room of his zipper being undone. 

I stared in horror as he dropped his trousers onto the ground. He stepped out of them nonchalantly, revealing his long gray socks that extended above his calves. My attention remained fixed as he slid his hands to his white shirt beneath the gray jacket. 

I couldn’t shift my gaze away from what he had revealed. His white briefs, the same pair he had given me, outlined an enlarged cock behind his brief. It was clearly for me to see.

"Don't worry, Mr. Burton wears them too," he reassured me.

I snapped out of it and refocused my attention on him. His tie still collared onto him. He had already unbuttoned some on his dress shirt and pulled it to the side, revealing the white nylon undershirt tucked into his white briefs. His chest was partially visible, displaying his muscular physique. His hardened nipples along with his fuzzy chest hair faintly visible through the fabric.

"Do you like them?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I was at a loss for words. My mouth dried and empty. 

"I understand your hesitation. It's natural," he said, attempting to sway me. "But I assure you, you'll find them enjoyable."

I… will enjoy them? I tried to redirect my thoughts on Mr. Burton and not what he displayed in front of me. 

"Go ahead, feel the pair," he gestured, his hands in motion.

I couldn't believe I was engaging in this. My heart raced as I cautiously placed my hands on the garments he had given me. My gaze remained fixed on Mr. Burton as I explored the texture of the fabric. I didn’t hate it. Each touch of it sends a spark against my body. 

"Now, imagine yourself wearing them," he encouraged.

And so I did. I envisioned myself wearing the white nylon undershirt and underwear, picturing myself standing before him.

"Very good," he praised, acknowledging my visualization. "Now, I'd like to see how you would look in them."

I knew what he wanted before he asked. The words stirred a mixture of emotions with me. A sense of uncertainty and unknown. What can I do? What other options did I have?  

Approaching me with warmth emanating from him, he wore a genuine smile on his face. His body moved with poise and his eyes filled with ambition.

How could anyone resist his presence? His hands made contact with me as he visualized the transformation he had in mind.

"I'm going to get rid of this improper appearance," he informed me.

Suddenly, a desire emerged. I want him to get rid of my flaws. I watched as he reached out to my belt and tugged it.

“You’ll no longer be lost, my boy.” His words laced with a drug, pulling me in. 

What was I doing here? What am I doing? I glanced down at my chest as his other hand gently rested there. I observed his hands moving downward, reaching towards my belt.

His hands joined together, their synchronized movement gripping onto my belt. With a bit of fumbling and intertwining of fingers, my belt succumbed to his touch. He swiftly unlocked it.

"There we go," he exclaimed cheerfully as he removed my belt from my jeans, casually discarding it onto the ground. Then, both of his hands proceeded to the hem of my shirt. His touch radiated warmth, akin to the comforting embers of a fireplace.

"Good boy," his words of approval echoed, "good boy."

His hands moved deliberately, gently pulling my shirt outward. My body responded instinctively, allowing him to remove it.

"You just let me guide you," he whispered softly, his words hanging in the air. "I'll ensure you find the right path. Will you allow me to do that for you?"

I hesitated. Why was my body reacting this way? Why did his words hold such allure? My lips began to search for the word “yes.” No, I was perfectly normal. I needed to regain control. I don’t… I gazed into his eyes, searching for clarity, but words eluded me.

There I stood, partially naked in front of him, as his hands continued their purposeful movement. My jeans were eased down, revealing my briefs. Without hesitation, I stepped out of my pants.

His smile stirred something within me. This was my choice, my decision.

He didn't stop there. He wanted to see the holy grail. His gaze met mine once more, seeking permission. Slowly, he descended, removing my last layer of protection. I let him stripped it away.  

"That’s my boy,” his voice growled with approval. 

Never before had I allowed someone to see me completely exposed with my cock hanging out. Mr. Burton was the first to witness it, and he seemed to take pride in that fact, discerning it from a single glance into my eyes.

It was absurd, wasn't it? My original purpose had been to infiltrate their group, and now here I stood, utterly naked before Mr. Burton. I couldn't tear my gaze away from him, captivated by his presence.

His left hand rested gently on my shoulder, while his right hand delicately lifted my chin, directing my gaze towards him. The sensations coursing through my body felt palpable, like resounding drums. Once again, I found myself lost in his eyes, drawn to his white teeth gracing me with a smile.

"Don't be shy. Keep your head up. I promise you'll find pleasure in this," he reassured me, his hands offering a comforting massage to my shoulders.

Radiating with a sense of pride, he stepped away from me, retrieving the garments he had previously shown me. I knew what was to come, and yet my thoughts couldn't help but linger on it…

The allure of wearing their acclaimed garment consumed my thoughts. The vibrations within me intensified, synchronized with the rhythmic tapping of Mr. Burton's leather shoe on the floor.

"Remember, it's just a simple initiation. Nothing to worry about," he reassured, patting me gently on the shoulder. "You want to try them on, don't you?"

My desire to put on the garment was undeniable. I swallowed nervously. After all, it was merely a part of the initiation. Mr. Burton handed it to me with ease. Why did I accept it? Why did I now find it in my grasp? I examined it once more, realizing there were no valid reasons to resist.

It was too late for hesitation. The first piece presented was their white brief. My body seemed to move instinctively as my legs guided themselves into the garment. With each pull, I felt the fabric enveloping me, caressing my skin, and pulling me within them.

“That’s my boy.”

My hands smoothly pulled the garment over my cock, feeling the softness of the white briefs as they embraced me. A sigh of comfort escaped my lips as I relished in the soothing sensation.

Without delay, Mr. Burton handed me the undershirt, and I swiftly slipped it on. The fabric draped over me, and although slightly translucent, it provided a sense of coverage.

“Tuck it in.” He instructed.

Following his guidance, I obediently tucked the undershirt into my briefs. As I completed the task, a deep groan escaped me. I couldn't help but wonder about the unfamiliar emotions stirring within.

"You appear much more dignified now," Mr. Burton commended.

My gaze fixated on his hands as they reached out and rested on top of my bulge.

"How does it feel?" he inquired softly, his fingers tenderly caressing my balls through the fabric.

A faint whimper escaped my lips as his touch elicited a pleasurable response. His fingers moved with gentle strokes, caressing my balls.

“Does it feel good?” He whispered.

“Yes.” I gently bit my lips.

“Wonderful.” His eyes brimmed with pride. 

I couldn't stop looking down at myself at what I had done. The garments I had put on, his hands delicately placed on top of my covered bulge, arousing a newfound erection within me.

"You'll fit right in," he reassured me, a sense of belonging in his tone.

“Oooah…” A low moan escaped my lips as his fingers continued their mesmerizing touch, overpowering my ability to control my own body.

"But we're not finished yet," Mr. Burton grinned, pleased with the progress I had made. How far had I come? Did I even want to resist? Such thoughts escaped from me as my body reveled in the sensation of the garments and his touch. It felt right.

"You, my boy, deserve to embrace your best self every day," he promised, his words tinged with sincerity.

His words caused a blush to color my cheeks, and I looked up at him. Mr. Burton stood there, still partially dressed in his suit, oozing confidence.

"What you see here is what all men should wear," he declared proudly, his words echoed with conviction. 

He then dangled a pair of long black socks in his hands.

"Put these on," he commanded.

Complying with his orders, I slid my feet into the fabric... It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It provided a comforting warmth against my skin as the sock extended beyond my calves.

At that moment, I was being dressed according to his vision. A sense of fear stirred within me—an apprehensive panic born out of the unknown.

"Now, for the rest of the ensemble," he declared.

With those words, I knew what was left and my body eagerly awaited it. He approached me, holding the next piece of the ensemble in his hands. The missing piece that will start to make me whole. A white dress shirt in his hands, calling for me. 

I couldn’t resist his gentle touches as he starts to enveloped me in a fragment of their uniform. His hands guided my arms into the sleeves. Then he starts to button up the shirt, the fabric delicately caressing me. He reached out to adjust my collar with a gentle touch. I can tell in his eyes how the white dress shirt was fitting for a young man like myself.

Why did everything feel so aligned? With every touch from Mr. Burton, it was no longer me wearing the shirt; instead, it was as if the shirt was embracing me, becoming an integral part of who I am. 

Mr. Burton completed dressing me in the shirt, a wide smile gracing his face. “You’ve started to come along nicely,” he acknowledge. 

I stared down at myself, the unfamiliar long black socks to my calves, the white dress shirt, the white nylon undershirt into the white briefs, some part of me knew I looked funny. This wasn’t me. These clothes weren’t me at all. It didn't fit me. But another part of me…

A spontaneous smile emerged on my face as I examined myself. Simultaneously, an unexpected feeling surfaced within me. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nervousness. Why, I pondered? Why did excitement surge through my veins?

“I had mentioned earlier you’ll find it pleasurable and it seems I was correct.” He remarked. 

I swallowed uneasily, a swirl of foreign thoughts and feelings wrestling within me. I knew what was happening, yet I fought against it in my mind. I wasn’t going to fall for this. I wasn’t going to be swayed by this group. All I wanted was to go in and get out, enduring and revealing the nonsense meeting.

He wasn’t right. He wasn’t right at all. I can’t find these clothes… enjoyable. However, despite my resistance, I found myself inevitably drawing comparisons to Mr. Burton. I was becoming like him, wearing the same garments he wore. Now, starting to wear the same clothes as he does. I… I couldn’t help but admire him, even against my will.

Mr. Burton swiftly moved on to the next item. He draped a pair of charcoal trousers over his hands. I swallowed hard. I hated the implication of it. One step closer. One step closer to becoming one of them. 

“You are to wear the proper attire befitting of a man.” Mr. Burton extended his hands towards me, almost like he had sensed the oncoming distraught. 

Was Mr. Burton the embodiment of it all?

“Please rest assured, you don’t need to worry about anything. As your mentor, it is my duty to provide guidance and support. The decisions I make on your behalf are intended to help you, mold you, and reform you. You can trust that my choices will always be correct." His smile radiated warmth and reassurance.

His words resonated within me… he always had my best interests at heart… he… he was going to my mentor, leading me towards the path I needed to follow. 

“Put on these trousers and let go of all thoughts of the past. You will grow to appreciate them and only desire to wear of such.” He extended them towards me. 

I stared intently, but no resistance surfaced in my mind. Mr. Burton was here, surrounding me with his care. Without any more thoughts, I reached out and accepted the trousers. 

“That’s my boy,” he praised.

I wasn’t merely a young man anymore… I was now Mr. Burton’s boy, entrusted to his care. I couldn’t deny him. I had to wear the pants he had given me. Thus, I slipped into the trousers. His hands moved quickly, assisting in tucking my shirt neatly. 

“Good boy,” he uttered, zipping up my fly. 

His words stirred a flutter in my stomach. Just moments ago, his praises were unwarranted, even cringe-worthy. They were false. Thoughts of why I should care about a man like him praising me, and how being referred to as a “good boy” stung my pride, crossed my mind. I was not a boy; I was a man.

Yet, those thoughts faded away. I’m doing the right thing… I… I was a… a good boy. 

Me with them. Me with Mr. Burton. A strange sensation stirred within me at the thought, but it was not the end. Swiftly, I felt the presence of something around my neck—a red and black striped tie. I watched, allowing him to knot it around my collar.

His hands moved gently against my neck as he skillfully tied the knot. It took shape, and then he tugged it snugly against my neck, ensuring it was just tight.

"Now, that's what I want to see," he remarked, gripping onto my tie.

My thoughts froze in my head, shrouded in the mystery of my own feelings.

"Now, onto the final piece," he declared, walking over to a pair of black loafers.

A lump formed in my throat as he approached with the loafers. They were impeccably polished and shiny. I didn’t know how I would feel about wearing them. I had found them to be… worn by older generations.

Mr. Burton motioned for me to sit on the chair, waiting to give me a prized possession of their shoes. This was the final piece… my body complied.

I watched as he bent down, grasping my feet, and slipped on one loafer, followed by the other. Finally, he completed the ensemble with the second loafer. They fit perfectly on my feet. 

He tapped the black loafers on my feet, then looked up at me. "How do they feel? Do they fit?"

I nodded towards him. They fitted perfectly and it was scary. I had never worn a pair in my life and yet they snuggled me comfortably. All the men wore such beautiful pairs of leather shoes and now, one was on me.

Deep breaths escaped my lips as I sat there, allowing the moment to sink in. The gnawing sensation inside me grew stronger as I stood up, gazing down at my new pair of shoes.

My vision blurred momentarily, and my heart chimed loudly, resonating through the empty room. I could feel it coursing through me— the shoes, the shirt and pants, the knot. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. But I couldn't help but steal glances at myself in their clothes. What would it do to me? Was I truly mad to crave it? I was. I was insane.

I looked like one of them. I looked like one of his own. Such a thought was welcomed. I want to be one of them. I want to be like Mr. Burton’s and now I stood there in their uniform. I stood there and looked like him. I was complete.

My lips broke the silence I had held so tightly within me. “Everything… feels…”

“Wonderful,” he finished my sentence, stealing my words.

I couldn’t help but found myself riveting to what he had put me in. I can see myself in their clothes. I can see myself wearing a suit walking amongst them. I can see myself always neatly dressed and proper. My hair conservatively like Mr. Burton’s. My ties knotted tightly and formulated. A dress shirt always worn by me accompanied by razor sharped creased trousers. Then at last, long socks and polished shoes of a man. 

His hands guided along my chest, up to my tie, as he grabbed the knot and pulled me closer.

"Don't you agree that this is a much better representation of who you are?" His hands traced the front of my dress shirt.

My voice croaked under his touch. "Yes."

His other hand found itself again on top of my bulge of my newly charcoal trousers.

“Ooooah!” My mouth opened wide in earnest, allowing him massaging it through my trousers. His hands had its touches, binding pleasure to him. 

His gaze steadfastly locked with mine, his hold on my tie unyielding, “it’s time to make you a member.”

I…it was finally time for me to be under him. I want to be a member. I want to be Mr. Burton’s. After all, I was already one of them dressed in their clothes.

“What… what do I do?” I silently panted, waiting to hear the secrets.

“Surrender yourself to me.” He whispered into my ears, as he tenderly gripped my hardened cock.

“Oooo.” I moaned upon hearing his voice. Surrender myself to Mr. Burton.

“Truly etched my words into your heart and soul. Make it a part of who you are.” He continued.

I needed to fully commit to his teaching… how can I not? 

He grabbed a hold of the back of my head and gently led it close to his chest. Then suddenly, his firm was hard and then he invited me to his hardened nipples. 

“Urgh… that’s my boy.” He groaned out loud as I opened my mouth upon his nipples.

My tongue lashed out into his nylon undershirt as it twirled and sucked on his nipples. I can taste his musk inside my mouth. It was a godsend. A heavenly taste that burnt itself into my memory. 

I want him. I want Mr. Burton. I couldn’t stop myself. He pushed me harder and I followed. His hands groped hard upon my hidden cock alluding me into him.

Surrender myself to Mr. Burton.

“Argh.” He growled in pleasure.

“Mmmm!” My mouth watered.

He pulled my head away with a wide grin on his face. His eyes were full of pride for me. 

"Listen carefully, Mike." His voice reverberated through the room.

I focused my gaze on him, attentively absorbing each word.

"You're about to become a member," he began.

My heart swelled with excitement. The thought of officially becoming one of them swells inside of me, waiting to burst. I was one of them in their uniforms. Next was the pledge.

"To proceed, there is something you must accept from me."

I was prepared to accept anything he offered.

“You will drink my seed that I will bestow on you. You will let it take root. You will let me watered it and nurture it. In return, you will adopt the Burton name as a symbol of your commitment.” His words commanded my attention. 

I accept. My body accepted. What was this overwhelming sensation of joy that surged within me when considering adopting his name as my own? Excitement coursed through me, flowing through every fiber of my being, longing for it. I want to embrace and etch it into me… Mike...

"Mike Burton." It effortlessly slipped off my tongue, solidifying its existence. The name suited me perfectly... I was destined to become a Burton...

"That's right, boy." His grin widened even further upon hearing me softly utter what he had desired from me. Once again, a sense of pride illuminated his eyes.

“Kneel.” He ordered me.

“Yes, Mr. Burton.” My lips moved involuntarily, submitting to his commands. His words carried a melody, and my body gladly followed his tunes. My knees sank to the ground before him.

"Yes, Father Burton," he instructed for the correction.

"Yes, Father Burton," I followed his commands.

“That’s my boy… good boy.” He praised with a whistle.

His words filled me with a sense of delight. A yearning to be a good boy. I longed to satisfy his desires. There was no shame within me, as he had trained me to seek his praises. 

I watched as his hands descended down to his white briefs. I watched again as his hands unveiled his Fatherhood right before me. I watched and wanted his seeds. I want to be Mike Burton. I want to be his.

I descended upon his Fatherhood. Oh! How I yearned for this! 

“Argh!” His moan raged against the room at the stroke of my mouth. 

His grunts were the epitome of happiness. My mouth watered and it soaked his Fatherhood, enveloped it all inside of my lips. 

“ARGH!!” He roughly grunted as he pushed his Fatherhood further in. My mouth was full of acceptance allowing him to prepare me for his seed.

“Goood…. Boy.” He huffed out loud as he gracefully thrust his hips.

The sound of the praises ushered me harder and faster. My eyes were drawn up to his and we locked gazes. He was so proud of me. I melted, becoming one with him.

“You’re… doing… so… good… boy.” Sweat drops on the side of his head as I continue loving his Fatherhood.

“ARGH!” He screamed out in ecstasy, motioning his hips against my mouth.

I can taste the beginning of his seeds. How tasteful and fulfilling it was to me. I want it. I want it all! My tongue mirrored his rhythmic movements, becoming one with his passionate drive. Together, we danced.

“OOOOOAH!” His moans louder and heavier.

I can taste his constant stream of his leaking nourishment, gently cascading me. It’s not enough.

“You want it badly, boy!” His voice commanded me.

“ARGHHHH!” He let out another roar.

“I hereby declare you Mike Burton!” He proclaimed.

Yes. Father Burton.

“OOOOOAH!” 

His Fatherhood bursted. Yes… yes! My mouth remains unyielding to his Fatherhood as his seed shoots out. I can taste him. I can taste the sweetness and saltiness of it all. 

His seed entered my throat and it dripped down, covering my walls. I could feel it entering through me, marking me as his. His seed was inside me, and my body accepted him.

“OOOOAH!” I moaned out as I let his seed soak me in. A wave crashed over me, and I found my cock bursting out.

“Let it out. Let it out, boy!” He shouts.

“ARRGHHH!” My eyes shut closed, embracing what he gave me. My cum seeps out into the nylon shirt, the white briefs, then out to my charcoal trousers. It seeped out, telling me the clothes were now mine.

“I… can’t… stop!” I groaned out loud as it continued bursting, “ooooooahhhh.”

“Good boy.” He praised me as I let myself out, and in its place was his seed.

“Ooooah…” I panted as the feeling fell down. I want more. I craved it. I can feel his seed taking root inside of me, pushing the last remnants of myself out. My body accepted it with open arms. I want his seed. I want it inside of me, overwhelming me. I was his vessel. 

My breaths labored heavily as my knees remained planted on the ground. With a gentle gesture, he lifted me up, his gaze filled with a newfound brightness.

"Welcome, my protege," he declared, his voice resonating with approval. His eyes twinkled with anticipation as he prompted, "Share with me what you have learned today."

I found myself lost in his presence, drowning in his appearance. Father Burton, my mentor, stood before me. His neatly trimmed brown hair set a standard for grooming that I aspired to achieve. His partially white, well-kept scruffy beard mirrored the same attention to detail. I felt compelled to emulate such facial grooming.

He wore a gray suit jacket that draped elegantly over him. I want a suit like his. Underneath, a white nylon undershirt was tucked into his white briefs. It truly is the  epitome of appropriate undergarments for a man. His white dress shirt, paired with a yellow striped tie, embodied sartorial excellence. His black, shiny shoes served as a constant reminder of proper footwear.

“I am the newest member under the teachings of Father Burton.” The words slipped out my tongue, “I will follow Father Burton and will always wear the proper garments of a white nylon undershirt tucked into my white briefs.”

I… this was me… this was who I will become.

"I will always wear a dress shirt, tie, and creased trousers befitting a young man. On my feet will always be long dress socks and polished leather shoes.”

That was an outfit befitting me.

"I… I am Mike Burton.” My voice declared.

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands in approval.

"I..." my words struggled to find their place, a sense of trepidation filling me. However he being Mr. Burton, he had the hues of a sunset. He leaned in forward, listening attentively.

"Do you seek my praise?" he guessed.

I swallowed hard.

"Say yes, boy," he urged.

"Ye..." my lips strained to confess the words.

"Yes, Father Burton," I uttered, my lips giving voice to the truth.

He approached me, placing both hands on my shoulders.

"You... are an extraordinary young man," he uttered those magical words. "Make me proud."

My blood danced and leaped. My smile widened from cheeks to cheeks. I will make him proud. I will make Father Burton proud. 

His hands moved towards the wet spot on my trousers. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks as I had wet my trousers with my cum.

“Please don’t worry, boy.” He assured me, his tone comforting. “When others see this, they will know without a doubt that you belong to me.”  

Blushing forward, I slowly accepted what I had done to my trousers.

“I’m glad you came here today.” His eyes smiled.

“I… I am too.” I grinned back at him.

“We have much work ahead of us, you and I.”

“Yes, Father Burton.”

[danmeichael]

more detailed descriptions of each style under the cut

simply - think t-shirt jeans and sneakers, maybe a hoodie or something. as average guy on the street as you can imagine.

stylish - manhua ceo, anything from a nice suit to business casual to a pair of ripped jeans and a layered shirt. the sort of fit that isn't super flashy or anything but is immaculately put together. belt matches his ankle-high chelsea boots, consideration of silhouette and contrast, etc.

flashy - i want you to imagine him specifically in a leopard print t-shirt and one of those jackets with a tiger embroidered on the back. so much jewelry, bright colors, lots of patterns, leather pants but with the confidence to pull it off. he has no clue he looks like an anime mobster he just genuinely thinks it looks cool as fuck.

modestly - long flowy pants (binghe in culottes....) a nice flowy button up, some ankle boots. is he stylish or is he just hot, skinny, and tall? yes.

goth - i don't mean eboy i mean capital g goth i mean eyeliner i mean layers i mean lace and leather i mean jewelry i mean pointy-toed boots. trad goth. motherfucker looks like a vampire from the 80s

emo - smudged guyliner, fishnets, black studded denim jacket, ripped jeans and converse, a t-shirt for a band he has never heard of because he is literally from another world but he can feel a sense of kinship with the angst.

badly - 3 wolf moon t-shirt and bright blue cargo shorts. maybe something bootleg hello kitty print.

designer (good) - look i don't know about designer clothes. he's dressed nicely but in that specific way that says oh this guy doesn't look at his own bank statements. nice trousers, everything tailored to fit him how he likes, a pair of fine leather shoes, a watch that makes people who know about watches gawk a little. Things that are nicely made, things thoughtfully purchased for their fit and quality, but undeniably priced the way they are because of the name on the tag.

designer (bad) - overpriced gucci t-shirt and sneakers that are more than your paycheck and frotting against the line between ugly and cool

[stalkedbytrains]

The Heist of Ettward Ossk's Ancient Semminatar Death Mask

With a dramatic sweep, the woman in the long coat entered the room, threw off her coat and sat down before the assembled team of thieves.

"Glad to see you're all here," she said in a slightly husky voice of either too many cigarettes, too much whiskey, or too little sleep. Probably all three. "I have worked with each of you on other jobs in the past, but this is the first time you've worked with each other."

She fished a pocket watch out of her vest. "We've got five minutes for introductions so let's get this over quick. You know me. I'm Issa, I'll be coordinating and running this team."

Issa stood up and walked around the table. She stopped behind each chair as she announced each person.

First up was the tall, whip thin man with his feet up on the table. He was totally bald but had an impressively maintained beard. "Arcus is our lockpick for this job."

Arcus waved one hand in a languid movement, but said nothing.

Second up was the man that was wearing long sleeves despite the relative warmth of the room. He seemed unbothered. "This is Navrog, he's our muscle."

He declined his head slightly. "Pleasure."

The third person was a woman with an immaculate sense of style in a high necked blouse and exquisitely accessorized. "Sem here is our face."

"Charmed," she said with a slight Minan accent.

Finally Issa walked by the youngest of the group, the tiny woman who seemed barely tall enough to sit at the table much less be involved in the job.

"This is Amthya, she's our runner."

"Hey-o," Amthya said.

Navrog spoke up. "What do we need a runner for? Is the job time sensitive or are we operating in a big area?"

Issa finished her circling and sat back down at her chair. "Yes, and yes. We're going to be going to the Clutches and stealing an Ancient Semminatar death mask owned by Ettward Ossk."

There was a collective series of groans from the thieves.

Issa gave them a moment to let them have it. After a few seconds she continued.

"Yes, yes, everyone's favorite punching bag. Ossk is extremely rich, extremely paranoid-"

"An extreme dickhole," Amthya cut in.

"That too," Issa agreed but with a flat look at her runner. "He sucks. But he is also very protective of his stuff, which is why it is going to be so hard to get this death mask."

"He also has a very nice collection of Dead Land artifacts," Arcus pointed out.

"Yes. And you know my policy for my teams. Help yourself so long as it doesn't compromise the mission. Once we've gotten the death mask and we're on our way out, you can take whatever you want. But if you take something and get us into trouble after that fact I will leave you behind. You take something and compromise the mission before we get what we need I will see you lost in the Castle."

Invoking the Castle as a threat was deeply serious to these thieves and all thieves. The Castle was a dark, inescapable dungeon that was the home of an untold number of extremely dangerous people that were too dangerous to leave out in the public and too dangerous to execute. If someone was sentence to a prison term in the Castle, there was no chance they would ever be getting out, they would be lost there, forever.

"What is the plan?" Sem asked quietly.

Issa sighed. "That's where things get complicated. Ossk is having a big gala in his Clutches mansion at the end of the week. We can get in via the guest list. I already have a few identities slipped in. But here is my confession and your one chance to back out."

The room grew quiet, tense.

"I had one team working with me on this before you. We were doing our reconnaissance, but they've disappeared."

"They walked off the job?" Navrog asked.

Issa shrugged. "Maybe. Or they were caught. Killed maybe. I really do not know what happened to them."

Amthya swallowed dryly. This was bad news. She was concerned, but not so concerned as to back out of the job. She always had a way out.

"This job is going to be very dangerous, but the payout is going to be extensive."

"How extensive?" Arcus asked.

"Five million each," Issa said.

Arcus whistled. "That's good money."

"Good money for dangerous work."

"Who is willing to pay that much for a death mask?" Sem asked.

"Some Pollepemu collective. I don't have specifics. You know how it works, intermediaries and everything. But the funds are in an escrow account so it's all there."

"And we get to nick whatever we want," Amthya muttered.

"Once the job is done, if you want to rob whatever, feel free. But only once the mask is dealt with."

"His collection of Dead Lands stuff will fetch a hefty price."

Issa leaned back in her chair, adjusted her hair, and let the team talk among themselves. None of them expressed wanting to back out. That was good. The payout would be hefty. But it was going to be worth it if they can get to the mask.

After a few minutes, she spoke up again. "We are going to be working a bit blind, so we need to get there as early as we can and then work on figuring everything out. I have a general layout of the mansion, and some educated guesses, but like I said. We're operating blind. Arcus is going to be getting us through most security traps, Navrog will be dealing with the human aspect. Sem will be chatting with the guests getting information and probably picking some pockets for keys. Amthya will be getting materials to and from as necessary. As you can see the mansion is pretty big so we've got a lot of ground to cover. I'll be floating, helping out whoever needs it the most and trying to cover the gaps where I can. Everyone in?"

"Yeah," Arcus said with a small grin.

Navrog just nodded. Sem agreed. Amthya was practically bouncing, ready to get started.

"Good," Issa said. "We've got three days before the gala so any of the prep work we would usually do has to get done now."

[lychee-angelica]

venus through the nakshatras p2 ♡‧₊˚

venus through leo to scorpio nakshatras

the following is based on vedic degree system, you can calculate your vedic birth chart here ♡

venus represents love, romance, sensual pleasure, femininity, beauty & wealth. i will focus on how venus influences women in general. although, venus in a man’s chart usually represents his love interest & his spouse can take on these qualities x

venus in magha (0′ - 13.20′ leo) 

these women may have a princess complex, however she will gain humility through maturity, may have a controlling nature in love, may be fond of power dynamics within relationships, high-standards in love, possessing an unattainable or queen like aura. acts of service or gift giving may be key a love language for these women

venus in purva phalguni (13.20′ - 26.40′ leo) 

these women may love to spend time in bed or just relaxing with their spouse, tendency for sexual indulgence, one may be co-dependent in relationships although fun-loving in love & out-going, may naturally attract attention & praise for their beauty, women with this placement may even be interested in modeling

venus in uttara phalguni (26.40′ - 10′ leo-virgo) 

these women may also love to spend time with their lover lounging around, shares a similar co-dependent theme in love, friendly & sociable women, detail-oriented & critical when it comes to one’s appearance, may love to be sexually indulgent especially in the spur of the moment or bursts of energy

venus in hasta (10′ - 23.20′ virgo) 

these women may be humorous & joking around type of flirtatious nature, may be critical & perfecting about one’s appearance, may have a very routine beauty regime, may be touchy toward their lover, one may have communication issues within their relationships

venus in chitra (23.20′ - 6.40′ virgo-libra) 

these women may be very meticulous about their appearance, one has a very shining beauty & tends to perfects their look, smooth talkers, may be very photogenic, tendency toward creating mood boards, may dress well & immaculate sense of style, most likely attracts lovers with their beauty although it evident to others that these people are not just stunning on the surface 

venus in swati (6.40′ - 20′ libra) 

these women may attract popularity due to their beauty, one may pay a lot of attention to their appearance. one’s spouse may be distant or foreign & may be independent even in a relationship. unique types of beauty & tendency toward expressing individuality your through one’s fashion sense

venus in vishaka (20′ - 3.20′ libra-scorpio)

these women may be very sociable, sweet & charming, great ability to maintain harmonious & balanced state of one’s love life, may be indecisive when choosing a lover, may be very passionate in love  

venus in anuradha (3.20′ - 16.40′ scorpio)

these women are usually super friendly although, may have friends who are secretly jealous of their beauty, may have difficult situations involving lover & friends, may have friend’s fall for them especially of the opposite sex, highly devoted toward their spouse, seductive type of beauty

venus in jyeshta (3.20′ - 30′ scorpio)

these women are highly seductive, they also deal with issues surrounding insecurity & their self-esteem despite possessing alluring kind of beauty, may be prone to feelings of jealousy and also attracts jealousy from others, love life can be secretive, intense lovers