#v;; tempered Grace

[giuliettagaltieri]

Claim the Heritage

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Wife

Warning: casual dominance, marital quarrels, tension, vulnerability, explicit smut, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, body worship, brat taming, self destructive tendencies

Word Count: 4364

6 of 6

Coriolanus Snow has a knack of pushing himself too far.

He expects too much from himself and does everything in his power to meet those expectations.

As a student and a starting politician, he has done great things, contributing fresh insights to Panem.  And now that he is the President, he has the power to do things with his own hands.  No longer having to need the approval of people of higher status, not when he’s the President, nobody has power greater than his.

You worry that he might be forgetting his other responsibilities.

He is after all, not just Mister President but also your husband.

You see him often in the corridors and you exchange nothing more than sultry glances.  It was fun the first time you have done it but you are left wanting now.

At night, the two of you come home late, too tired to get some action going.

You have needs that long to be fulfilled.

And your unfed desires manifested in your temper.

The men in the room are discussing the recent power outage that paralyzed Panem for a day.  A malfunction caused by severe water temperatures in the hydroelectric dam in District 5 caused a cascading error in the system.  The Capitol and a portion of District 1 and 2 were able to continue their operation due to generators but the other Districts suffered from it.  And the one day pause of labor caused a slight drop to Panem’s stock charts.

All eight of your husband’s subordinates are trying to raise their opinions about the matter, how they will conduct another investigation as they are quite convinced it was human error, and how they will punish the one responsible for it too.

Their voices are starting to irritate you, making you tap your foot under the desk.  Coriolanus seems to be ignoring them as he reads through the report.  How he can manage to focus, you have absolutely no idea.

You try to regain your composure by taking a sip of water but it does not help, not one bit.  Deep intakes of breath also seem to be not working.

Coriolanus is still reading the report, his back against his chair as one of his hands toy with his pen.  His fingers are looking rather breathtaking today.

You look away before anyone could notice your desperation.

“Frankly, you are all arguing about matters that have been resolved already.”  He murmurs and you are thankful for it as the room quiets down.

“What do you mean sir?”

You bite your cheek to stop yourself from berating the man.  But Coriolanus can see that arch in your brow any day.  You are pissed.

“You have something to say, wife?”  He smiles knowingly at you and you look at him sharply but his smile only widens more.

“Well, all of you are being foolish!”  You finally burst.  Coriolanus leans back in his chair as if he is watching a rather interesting show.  “There is a report given, and a very good one at that.  Do you all have poor reading comprehension that you cannot understand that this is not a human error!”

The room falls silent as the men stare at you with their cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

Coriolanus clears his throat and leans closer to his desk.  “I believe what the Missus wants to say is that we must be coming up with solutions to prevent this from happening again rather than point fingers.”

You glare at him again but Coriolanus is not looking at you but the men who are nodding in agreement.  You hear a chorus of apologies from the men and you can’t help your bottom lip from jutting out in irritation.

“We can strengthen the system.  A collaboration with District 3, perhaps?”  A man says nervously, eyes flitting to you for approval but you don’t acknowledge him.

The other men raise their support.  They have to stay in your good graces.  All eight of them are dispensable.  If you talk to your husband to eliminate them, there will be nothing they can do.

They are proud men, but they too are necessary associates, albeit shortsighted at times.

You lean on your chair and swivel it so you are partially facing your husband.  “Another source of power.”

He nods at you to continue.

“A solar plant.”  You say.  “It is a good back up.”

Coriolanus rubs his chin and considers it for a moment.  “Indeed.  May I ask you to write a proposal, my love?”

“Of course.”  You say and you begin tidying up your stuff.  Coriolanus picks it up and addresses the men in general.

“I appreciate your…enthusiasm in helping our great nation.  Good day, gentlemen.”

They all file out of the room, thanking the President and you.  They all seem to sweat when you dismiss them with nothing but a brief nod.

Coriolanus leaves his chair and he eyes the pout in your lips. 

“Have a great day.”  You say as you stand.

“Leaving so soon?”  He raises a brow.

You stop in your tracks to look at him weirdly.  “You asked me to write a proposal?”

He hums at this and presses a chaste kiss on your lips.  “I will be seeing you at lunch, then.”  He guides you to the door and you both exit the meeting room to go to your separate offices.

His behavior is really really starting to irk you.

You are lying if you were not hoping that he would stop you and at least help out with the tension in your body.

But you guess not, he is a busy guy after all.

Coriolanus buries himself more and more with work.

You worry that he might be close to self-destruction.

The crops in District 9 suffered from a locust infestation and it kept him up very late for a few weeks.

You started to miss him very much.  Try as you might to stay awake in your room, it is not until nearly sunrise when he joins you.

It hurts and you hate yourself for being selfish.

One morning as you share your breakfast, you notice that he is barely touching his food as he reads the report about the red tide poisoning in District 4.

“Corio, eat.”  You say before your lips wrap around a strawberry.

He only hums in response as he flips to the next page of the report.

You glance at him and see the dark circles under his eyes, his skin looking dehydrated, and it is evidenced by the cracks in his lips.

“You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You say lowly before you suck on your finger absentmindedly, your eyes now scanning your bowl for the next strawberry you’ll eat.

This caught his attention.

“What did you just say?”  There was a challenge in his voice and you hesitate for a moment, heart wanting to submit and apologize but the Swansworth blood courses through your veins and you fear you will shame the strong women before you if you fold so easily.

You look at him dead in the eye.  “You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You smile at him sweetly.  “Was that clear enough for you, or do I have to repeat myself again?”

His jaw tightens, his eyes sharp.  He does not take mentions of his death lightly.  Had you been anyone else, you would have your tongue cut off and live as an Avox.

“You really are your father’s daughter.”  He sighs, trying his best to hide the amused smile you put on his face.

You wanted to retort but your words die in your tongue.  Coriolanus glances up at you when you don’t speak.  Usually, you would have bitten another comment at him.  But you were only looking at your strawberries sadly, finger tracing the bowl that held them.

The sound of paper crinkling had you looking up.  He folded the report away, he had the necessary information he needed anyway.  Coriolanus knows you are watching him and he scoops a mouthful of truffle scrambled eggs.  You gave him the sweetest smile he had seen on your face for weeks, and it was motivation enough for him to eat the breakfast that was served to him.  Yet, he still finishes first.

You pout unknowingly when he wipes his lips with the napkin and walks over to kiss your forehead.

“I will be seeing you later for your report.”

“See you.”  You reply with less enthusiasm.

He watches how sadness swam in your eyes and he leans closer to peck your lips and he is off.

You did not have much energy for work afterwards.

The meeting was at 10 in the morning and you arrived in the meeting room at 10:02.  Coriolanus was not pleased.

He did not back you up when the other men in the room asked questions about your presentation.  It was their job to pick apart your proposal and you only show them how flawless it is.  They are finally satisfied with it after a while, your throat burning from how many questions they asked.

You are infuriated with your husband.  You feel like he is throwing you to the wolves.  Not that you can’t tame the said wolves but it made your blood boil.

“I have decided to call this solar plant, Coriolanus 9.”  You attempt a smile and they actually bite.  “In honor of our President, and us.”  You purposefully let yourself blend in with the men in this proposal.  You need to boost their morale from time to time.

All eight of them murmur their agreement, smiles wide as they feel honored just by being included in the project.

After a few more questions from them, your husband finally adjourns the meeting.

His lack of support was not appreciated and you are determined to get out of this stuffy meeting room.

“Gentlemen, that would be all.”  

What about you?

Your lips part in protest but Coriolanus raises a finger at you, making you close your mouth as you narrow your eyes at him.

After the men filed out, you got up briskly, your chair wheeling back in a great speed.

“Careful.”

“Oh, so you’re talking now?”  You snap, your hand placed on your hip.

Coriolanus only leans on his chair as he looks you in the eye, his chin tilted upwards.

“I am…”  he pauses as he scratches his chin.  “upset with you.”

You scoff.  “You are upset with me? I am upset with you!”  You point at him harshly.  “You were the one who asked me to make a proposal and present it afterwards!  But what did you do?  You did not support me or give me assurance!”

“I was confident in your proposal.”  Coriolanus stands up calmly, his hands in his pockets, his thumb jutting out.

You give him one final glare and you huff, turning your nose up as you look away.  “I am done talking to you today.”

Coriolanus grips your arm before you can walk away.

His hand is warmer than usual and you frown.

“Do you need me to put you in your place?”  

The threatening growl in his voice washed away all the fight in you.

You bite your lip nervously, the entire bottom lip disappearing behind a row of teeth.  You shake your head and you tear up from how pathetic you have become for this man.

He smooths your hair and places a warm kiss against your temple.  “Be good.”  He murmurs.

You watch him collect his things and he throws you one final warning glance and he exits the meeting room.  Your hands grip the hardwood table to steady yourself.

How dare he!

You are his wife, not some District whore that needs to be reprimanded, you will not allow such disrespect again!

Coriolanus is not surprised to see you miss lunch.  His assistant tells him that you are having luncheon with Mrs. Plinth.  And that…you canceled all your plans for the day.  And the rest of the week.

He taps a finger on his desk and wonders if he pushed you too far earlier. 

Coriolanus glances at your photo in his desk.  Your smile was brighter then.  

A slight pounding in his head makes him grimace and he groans.

There were two more bills he needed to get through before he could relax.  Coriolanus inhales sharply, forcing his eyes to read through the files.

It was night time when he came home.  He missed dinner again.

Coriolanus had an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he entered your home.  It was dark and cold.

There was enough security outside but no signs of life inside.

Your servants usually retire after dinner and come back only in the mornings to serve you your breakfast.

But where are you?

Coriolanus doubles his steps to check your bedroom, you are not there.

His heart starts pounding, cold sweat dripping from his temple as he runs around his mansion in his tight suit.  He wanted to ask the peacekeepers stationed outside if you are even in your mansion when he catches a glimpse of your sheer robe in your sunroom.  He steps closer and sees you there, asleep in your plush chair, curled up around a book.

For a moment, he just stares at you, calming himself down.  No one has taken you and you did not leave.  Coriolanus seats himself to the identical chair across you and just looks at the rise and fall of your chest.

You must have fallen asleep as you were having your afternoon read.  It appears you might have missed dinner, as none of the lights are on.  The servants must have left it off so as to not disturb your sleep.

The night deepens and he just sits there, still convincing himself that you are still with him.

Coriolanus believes he will be there until morning comes but fate has other plans and your book slips from your hold, the hardcover making a loud slamming noise against the otherwise silent evening.

You jolt awake from the noise and when you reach for it, you catch a glimpse of him and you jolt for the second time.

“Heavens!”  You clutch your chest tightly, your eyes glaring accusingly at him.  “Do not scare me like that!”

He laughs hollowly.

“Apologies.”  He mutters.

You lean back in your chair, holding your book in your lap.

“Have you eaten your dinner?”  You ask just to break the silence.

“Not yet and neither did you.”  He uncuffs his sleeves and loosens his tie.

You purse your lips.  “I had tea and cakes this afternoon.”

“When did tea and cakes pass as dinner?”  He drapes his waistcoat on the armrest together with his tie.

You choose not to answer as you have a feeling the question was rhetorical.

Coriolanus rests his arms on his thighs and clasps his hands as the silence lengthens.  Moonlight was emitting a pale glow, it reflected on your faces and everything else was still.

“My father casts a very large shadow.”  He tells you.

You nod.  You both have that in common.  But you do not want to tell him as his case was different.  You are aware of his struggle while growing up, the things he has done that could have tarnished his name, and now, he has become the President, a leader of Panem, and the footsteps that his father left for him to follow might be too large for him.

“I wanted to do everything right.  To do things how he would have done it.  Maybe even more.”

You play with the edges of your book as you listen, afraid that if you’ll talk, his walls will come building itself up again.

“He was not the best father.  Nor husband.”  He chuckles bitterly.  “I was sure, I would be just like him too.”

You bite your lip as you will yourself not to cry in front of him.

“But I enjoy your company, wife.”  Coriolanus tells you truthfully.  “I love you.”  He confesses, making your chest tighten.  “I do not wish for this marriage to fail.”

You cannot help how a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Come here.”  He commands and you throw yourself to him, sobbing to his chest.  “I am terribly sorry for being a lousy husband.”

Your tears soak his dress shirt as Coriolanus peppers kisses on your head.

“Been neglecting my wife, how awful of me.”  His hand grips on your bum possessively.  “When she should have been worshiped day by day.”  His tone changes ever so slightly into something you hear only inside your bedroom walls.

You do not protest when he lays you on the chaise lounge.  Your sobs turn to sniffles when Coriolanus parts your thighs and bunches your dress until it shows your abdomen.

“Corio.”  You whisper his name like a prayer and he mumbles yours against your skin.  You watch as he plants his lips on your scar.  A scar that you got from taking a bullet for him.

It was not the last time you whispered his name in the dead of the night.

“Your petals always have the sweetest nectar.”  He groans and you feel yourself shy away, hips hiking up and away from him but his arms tighten their hold around your thighs and he looks at you from there, his eyes giving you a silent warning.

“S-sorry-ah!”  You gasp as his tongue darts out to lick the juices off your slit.  His tongue pokes at your pearl and you break eye contact with him when he wraps his lips on your tiny nub.

Coriolanus looks at you with his eyes now lazy but his tongue, the opposite!

He kisses you and in an act of total impulsiveness, starts tracing his name on your clit.  Coriolanus Snow was owning you in every way possible.

He had you reduced to your most carnal self.  Your hands were on his platinum hair, gripping them tightly in your hold, selfishly pulling him in.  Your thighs are resting on his broad shoulders.  And your cunt, it was making a mess on your chaise lounge and on your husband’s face.

Coriolanus groans as he parts your lips so he could kiss your opening.  His thick finger, that you have been craving, sliding on your juices before he plunges it knuckle-deep.  It might have been a mistake on his part given your sensitivity after having to be forced to join him in his self-induced celibacy.  Your lewd mewl brought rouge to his cheeks.

You bring your hands to your mouth to hush yourself and Coriolanus took that as a challenge.  He sits up, sitting on his ankles to press your thigh to your chest as his finger prods at you from the inside.

You are writhing underneath him.  Telling him how good he is making you feel.  Oh, and he reveled in it.  Every sound that comes from your lips, it fueled his desire more and more.

A second finger was added and you shriek from the stretch, it has been a while, he needs to be more gentle!  But Coriolanus cannot help himself when you look so pretty.  Your cheeks wet with tears, eyelashes clumping up, as your hands formed tiny fists.  Any form of his self control has disappeared when you are gushing and pulsating around his fingers.

He knows you’re nearly there, so close!

You pant, closing your eyes as his fingers massaged your walls, coaxing you to climb higher and higher and-

“Coriolanus!”  You yell furiously when he pulls his fingers out.

Your husband grins at you as he wipes his face from your slick.

“I seem to recall that someone was not a very good girl this morning?”  His hands trailed at your hips and you almost tear up from frustration.

He was supposed to be making it up to you!  He had no reason to bring up the events this morning.

In an act of defiance, you huff and you reach your own sex to flick at your clit.  Your fingers are more delicate, making you gasp at the gentle pleasure.

Coriolanus grins as he watches you play with yourself.  Enjoying how you grow more and more frustrated as you cannot give yourself the same pleasure.  You shriek angrily as you pull your fingers away, you slam your tiny feet on the chaise and Coriolanus laughs. 

“Are you done being a brat?”

You are too stubborn to answer but you do not stop him when he maneuvers you until you are on your stomach, you groan softly in discomfort when he pulls your hips so your cunt is presented to him beautifully.

His fingers are prodding your entrance again and you mewl when he pops his tip in.   Coriolanus stays there for a moment as his hands, rough from his time as a peacekeeper, grips on your waist firmly.

“There’ll be no stopping, alright?”  He reminds you.  “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

You lift your head from the plush of the chaise lounge and you give him a nod. 

“Put your head back down, my love.”

You do as he tells you and you brace yourself.

Coriolanus enters you with a sharp thrust, and your whimper is muffled by the cushions.  Your husband thrusts at a steady speed, his eyes watching the impact ripple on your body.

Your breath hitches with every kiss his tip makes on your cervix.  Every slap of his hips against you makes the crudest sound, sending a jolt of arousal through you.  President Snow is a man of the most refined of tastes, the pinnacle of order.  But when he beds you, he is just as raw, just as unrestrained.

“Don’t know why I deprived myself of your wet cunt for so long.”  And his mouth spewing the most vulgar of things.

He uses his weight to push you further in the mattress so he can fuck you deeper.  Your cunt spasms and you moan shakily, almost sobbing.

“Chase it, my love.”  He groans deeply.

And you unravel, lewd sobs spilling from your polished tongue as your back arches, cunt creaming around his cock.

Coriolanus watches you sob, your shoulders shaking as his thrusts do not relent.  His eyes flicker to where your bodies meet, your warm juices are dripping on his taut sack.

“Corio…Corio please!  I don’t think I can anymore….”

“Hm?”  He reaches to grab your chin.  “Thought I told you that we’re only done when I say so?”

You look at him with tears sliding down your cheeks.  You can’t even focus on him, body shuddering when your tummy feels another tight coil.

Coriolanus inhales sharply when he feels the familiar pulsation of your warm softness.

His tip twitches as it bumps your plump cervix.  And when you call his name with your broken voice as you cum, he shoots his seed in you.

“Hah…hah.”  

He is panting from on top of you, his hand placed against your bottom to keep himself up.

Coriolanus gently pulls himself out, watching the gossamer webbing of your arousal on his cock.  He smacks your bum and you tighten your cunt to keep his seed from spilling.  He scoots closer so he is holding you, your back against his chest as your legs tangled together.

The two of you gaze at the moon from the enormous windows of your sunroom.  It was calm again.  Nothing but your heartbeats and the gentle breathing lulling each of you closer to sleep.

“Corio.”  You call his name softly.

He hums in response as he pulls you closer, just needing to feel you against him.

“The people of Panem are not your fucking masters.”

His brows meet and he glances at you, wondering where all of this is coming from.

“They cannot have you always cleaning up their mess like you are some District servant.”

He shifts you so you are facing him now.  His stern brows meet to let you know you are on thin ice.

“You govern your people.  You don’t coddle them.  Let the District officials do their job.  They must learn to solve their own problems and the Capitol Bureaucrats must see to it that they are doing it in ways that align with your judgment.  And you lead them from the top.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

You yawn like the adorable thing you are.  “So Snow lands on top.”

He clicks his tongue smoothly.  “You are only attracted to power.”

“My love.”  You say rather darkly.  “You are power.”

Coriolanus falls silent, contemplating your words, letting himself process it.

He sighs as he looks at you in endearing defeat.  “You just want a vacation, don’t you?”

You fight back a smile as you smack his chest.

“I am being serious, Coriolanus Snow.”

He pulls you closer, teeth glinting as he snickers.  “I understand that, Y/N Snow.”

“Y/N Swansworth-Snow.”  You remind him and he laughs.

“Of course, of course.”

You lean your head on his chest and your cheek soaks his warmth.

“You know, you are not your father, Corio.”

He winces.  “I know…I’m just-”

“You are better.”

That sinks deep in him.

He now understands why there was something in you that pulled him in.  No one in Panem, or in this world, could understand his soul in its most naked form.  You are his stability.  Someone whom he cannot scare away when he is darkest.

Because it seems like you might be exactly just like him.  Just as cruel, just as evil, with no regards to anyone but each other.

And he is fine with that, even if the world is burned to ash around you.

“My love for you is catastrophic.”  Coriolanus murmurs against your skin and you smile as you close your eyes.

You run your finger on his chest.  “And my love for you is all-consuming.”

Coriolanus and you are obsessive, ablazed with reckless passion, villainous in nature, but it is easy to justify when you are both equally drunk with dangerous devotion.

The people of Panem be damned.  

The odds will forever be in your favor.

Hunt for Glory

[kokomyass]

Genshin Headcannons ☆ Traveller finding out that you are in a relationship with genshin characters pt.2

Genshin x Fem!Reader

Genre: ☁️

Trigger warnings ⚠️: none!!

featuring: Scaramouche, Kazuha, Cyno

Notes: for my man's scara, we are gonna refer to him as Kuni(kuzushi) or Wanderer, for my man's kazuha you are beidou's younger sister and the traveller and paimon know you, and in cyno's part, you are collei's main supervisor.

a/n: my lovlies I am here to deliver!! After an ACTUAL narrow win, the scara, kazu and cyno trio won our hearts! 💕

now that doesn't mean I won't do the others....but let's see.....anyways enjoy!! 💜💜

pt.1 is here!!!

Scaramouche

"The Wanderer....coming to Paimon and Traveller for help....this sure is a rare occurrence, Paimon must say!"

Paimon and The Traveller were sat opposite to The Wanderer who was looking down with a faint dust of pink on his cheeks.

He was in need of advice on what to get his girlfriend for their anniversary, and in desperation and no one else to ask, he found himself asking the Traveller and Paimon for advice.

"Shut it. I need some advice and then I am off. That's it." The Wanderer kept his head lowered as The Traveller smirked at his attempt to be tough but still seemingly desperate.

"Well, what do you need help with, Wanderer?" Paimon made sure to emphasis the word help failing to hide her cheeky smirk.

The Wanderer glared daggers at her before speaking.

"You are going to help me find a present." he wasn't really giving them a choice.

"A present?! For who?? Paimon knows you have no friends!" Paimon shouted with no filter for the whole world to hear before the Traveller covered her mouth.

"Shut up and bite your tongue, Paimon!!" The Traveller whispered in Paimon's ears ignoring her muffled shouts, "Yes we will help!" The Traveller said to The Wanderer as he let out a grunt of satisfaction.

They went to many different stalls making very, VERY, V E R Y small talk, as most of time The Wanderer would see a stall and would pick up an item, show it to the Traveller and Paimon and put it down.

"We've been walking for ages!!! Who is this even for?" Paimon moaned even though she could float.

"None of your business." the Wanderer spat as he picked up his pace making Paimon roll her eyes.

"Why is he being so secretive, is it for his girlfriend or something?" Paimon said joking like in the Traveller's ear as they giggled behind him finding the concept of him having a partner so unrealistic.

After a while, The Wanderer picked a few things that he liked and put them in a basket. He said farewell to The Traveller and Paimon before going to find the person the present was for.

"Paimon thinks....we should follow him to find who he is giving presents to!" Of course the Traveller didn't object.

So that is how they found themselves stalking the poor Wanderer. They followed him until he reached a girl on a bench reading book.

She looked up, saw him and a warm smile graced her face as the Wanderer smiled back patting her head.

He handed the girl something before she opened it and looked happier than she had just seemed as she jumped in his arms hugging him, as The Wanderer chuckled, hugging her back.

"I love you, Kuni!!"

"I love you too, idiot..."

Your voices could be heard by the Traveller pretty clearly, but not by Paimon

"Ugh Paimon can't hear....OH MY GOODNESS...DON'T TELL ME THEY ARE DATING!! MOVE, TRAVELLER I CAN'T HEAR ENOUGH!" Paimon pushed The Traveller's shoulder a bit too much...

Making them topple out of the comfy bush they were hiding in, interrupting the intimate moment.

The Wanderer was silently fuming as you jumped behind him confused as to who the random two figures were until you notice it was the infamous Traveller and her floating pet.

Just as the Wanderer was about to go insane you held his hand.

"It's okay Kuni," you smile warmly making his temper disappear slowly, "Hello! You must be The Traveller and Paimon! Nice to meet you!....although may I ask why you followed my boyfriend here?"

Even though it was too late, the Wanderer covered your mouth, holding you body against his.

"Y/N....shhhh!" his face was bright red as he looked down.

And of course Paimon had to say something...

"WHAT!!!??? THERE'S NO WAY YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND IT JUST ISN'T LIKE YOU!!"

You laughed as you pulled The Wanderer's hand away from your mouth holding it.

"Haha, well miracles happen I suppose....but you haven't told me how you know him and why you are here..."

Paimon gives a long run down of everything leaving a warm smile on your face.

"You asked for help just for me Kuni? You truly are a softie..." you give him a small peck on the cheek making his ears turn bright red.

"Well, you mean a lot to me idiot...." The Wanderer mumbled.

"Paimon still can't believe your getting some action...."

"SHUT IT PAIMON!!"

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

Kazuha Kaedehara

It was your sister Beidou's birthday and you invited the Traveller and Paimon for a suprise party on the Crux.

"I'm so glad you could make it! I cannot wait to throw this party for her she's gonna love it!" you exclaimed walking through the streets of Liyue.

"Paimon is so glad she gets to come and celebrate!! And eat lots too..." The Traveller rolled her eyes at Paimon being food obsessed.

"I need to find Kazuha...he promised he would make it." no one knew about your relationship with Kazuha, not even your sister. Which is why you intended to tell her tonight at the party.

Kazuha had gone to Inazuma for 2 days and was meant to come back at Liyue Harbor by now.

"Don't be worried Y/N, Kazuha wouldn't break a promise! Paimon knows that much!" you smile warmly with love thinking out about true that was, hoping Paimon and the Traveller don't notice.

"Hello everyone." Kazuha's soft spoken voice could be heard as you ran up to him and wrapped your arms around him tightly as he hugged you back.

"I missed you Kazu..." you whispered in his ear so that Paimon and The Traveller wouldn't hear.

"I missed you more Y/N"

"Um they look quite in love don't they Traveller~" Paimon wiggled her eyebrows as the Traveller laughed slightly. Unbeknownst to both you and Kazuha.

Time Skip!!

It is the night of the party and all presents have been given and everyone is drinking to their hearts content.

"Kazu, make sure you stay sober so we can tell Beidou our big secret. I know you can't handle alcohol well babe...." you whispered to Kazuha as the festivities began.

Little did you know, Beidou thought it would be funny to switch the grape juice he was drinking to wine.

"Thank you for coming again. Are you enjoying yourselves?" you sat by the Traveller and Paimon who were only one seat away from Kazuha.

"We sure are! The food is amazing~ won't you eat and drink?" Paimon asked as you seemed fully sober and they hadn't seen you get anything to munch on.

"Well I just want to make sure everything is okay before I eat and-" Before you could finish your sentence someone's arms slithered around your waist from behind, you turn back to see Kazuha with flushed face and eyes lidded.

"Kazu, are you drunk? And as much as I wanna cuddle, everyone is gonna see-" you whispered to him, trying to softly pull his arms away.

"HEY! KAZUHA AND Y/N!! WHY ARE YOU BOTH SO CLOSE?!" you hear Beidou's drunk voice as everyone went silent and stared at you with a drunk Kazhua wrapped around you.

"We have been together for 2 years though...." you slapped your hand over Kazuha's mouth, after he just spilled your secret, smiling nervously as everyone started mumbling.

"Paimon shipped you guys and all...but TWO YEARS?!!!" Paimon shouted.

"Beidou you see the thing is-" you sheepishly tried to explain before Beidou hushed you.

"I'm joking around....I knew you guys were together it's pretty obvious. You should let that boy live a little though...luckily, I gave him some wine to really enjoy the party" you stared in shock as Kazuha had now fallen asleep on your lap and Beidou laughed loudly as everyone began chattering.

"Traveller, Paimon....do you agree?"

"Yes you guys act like newlyweds...but we are so happy for you!!"

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

Cyno

The Traveller and Paimon happened to be in Sumeru and they met up with Cyno just to see how he was doing.

"How's it going, Cyno? Anything new?" Paimon asked gleefully.

Cyno ate his food silently before replying.

"I want you to meet someone." he began eating again not expanding further making the Traveller and Paimon a bit perplexed.

"Um...do you wanna expand on that, orrrr...?" Cyno didn't say anything, all he did was stand up and start walking off assuming they would follow.

"Hey, hold up!!" Paimon and the Traveller chased after him walking his pace one they caught up with him.

They walked a long way to Gandharva Ville only to see Tighnari.

"UGHH CYNO WE ALREADY KNOW TIGHNARI!!" Paimon shouted in frustration from walking for such a long time as the Traveller shut her up.

"Tighnari, where is Y/N?" Cyno asked ignoring Paimon.

"Ummm I think she went to the Desert with Collei? Why?" Tighnari asked confused as to why Cyno was asking where his own wife was.

"Many thanks." Cyno walked off without answering Tighnari's question as Paimon and The Traveller followed.

They has arrived in the desert and 2 figures could be seen digging up in the sand.

"Paimon has had enough floating for one day, Paimon refuses to go anywhere!!" Paimon folded her arms standing her ground(or air??) before seeing Cyno and The Traveller walking off towards the people infront of them.

"Wait for Paimon!!!"

"Y/N, Collei." Cyno spoke out causing you to turn your head and smile warmly, waving. You stood up from your crouched position.

"Mr Cyno! And The Traveller and Paimon!!" Collei shot up as you told her to calm down so she didn't hurt herself.

"Hi Cyno, what brings you here? Or are you here for a usual stroll? And who are these individuals?" You walk up and give him a tight hug that he reciprocates.

"This is The Traveller and Paimon. This is Y/N guys." Cyno effortlessly introduced you.

"Why, I have heard loads about you from everyone! My dear Collei was just talking about you!!" you smile warmly whilst patting Collei's head.

"It's nice to meet you Y/N!! And nice to see you Collei!! Cyno why did you want to introduce us?" Paimon asked trying to sound polite.

You laughed as you answered the question for him, "You see, I am Cyno's wife."

"WHAT!!!??? CYNO WHY DIDNT YOU SAY IN THE WAY HERE? PAIMON WOULDN'T COMPLAIN AS MUCH!!" Paimon shouted a bit too loud and Cyno just shrugged.

"Didn't cross my mind." all you could do was laugh at Cyno's usual antics.

"This is shocking...but at least Paimon doesn't have to be a victim to your horrible jokes..."

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

a/n: GUYS THANK YOU FOR BEING GREAT SUPPORTERS AND I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING THIS!! DONT FORGET THAT YOU CAN REQUEST ANYTHING YOU WOULD LIKE! LOVE YOUUUUU!!! 💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮

[l4long-winded]

mad carmy with sassy reader that doesn’t take his shit!!! (smut!)

ask and you shall receive (happy valentine's day, love)

o.s. fire in the freezer

summary: it's opening night and you're stuck inside the walk-in with your boss, carmen. can the night get any worse? (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: this took me embarrassingly long. i had a lot to get through these past weeks. i still have a busy schedule with college and life, but i want to do more of these. i have about 3 or 4 prompts i need to get to, but i think i'll be able to manage. also, this might be ooc for some people? idk, it's fiction. please enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: cursing, longwinded descriptions, angry!carmy, angry!reader, takes place during the season 2 finale (pretending claire doesn't exist), implied enemies to lovers, reader's pov, reader is a line cook(?), arguing, surprise kissing, walk-in shenanigans, dirty talk, mention of fridge guy, use of the word "slutty," walk-in p in v, unprotected (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,140

( this work has been cross-posted to ao3 )

“What the fuck did you just say?”

It’s alarming how crimson his face appears considering the walk-in’s cold air biting at both your limbs, how you imagine the rising heat of his breath combats the freezer’s chill, puffs relaying the steam building within him. It’s a miracle it doesn’t fume from his ears. Fifteen minutes have passed, fifteen minutes of remaining silent as Carmen mouthed off about the unfairness of the situation, how his cell phone doesn’t have service, how he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on out there when your coworkers have seemingly abandoned the both of you to fend for yourselves. You don’t blame him. You don’t want to be in here any more than he does, but there’s this wretched thing about Carmen that he does when tensions are high and his temper flies off the handle. He gets mean. He becomes hurtful. You’ve worked with him long enough to see it occur, the venomous speech he mutters at a high volume as a tendon in his neck protrudes and the person being yelled at flinches in shock. Though such poison’s never been doused over your head, he’s never directed that anger towards you.

Until now. He inadvertently called you an idiot along with the coworkers busying themselves outside the walk-in. There’s not much they can do about the freezer’s handle breaking, and you both know that, but he’s not calming himself down, nor is he making this easier on you when you’re stuck in the same situation as him. You two are prideful and confident in your actions in the kitchen. Sure, you’ve butted heads a few times and stared each other down from afar, but your relationship’s been tame for the most part.

“I said, ‘Stop acting like a fucking cunt.’” You bark back. So much for being tame. You couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. Everyone has the grace and privilege of being able to ignore him since he’s locked away here with you, but unfortunately, you’re not as lucky. You don’t appreciate being talked down to and you won’t take it from your boss just because he’s irate and the world is crumbling beneath your feet. You want to head out there and contribute to the restaurant as he does, but you’re also not spewing hateful soliloquies to the one person who could possibly understand what you’re going through. That, and it’s fucking cold in here, you’re irritated by the temperature frosting over your skin. It’s opening night and you’re stuck with your least favorite person in the kitchen—your least favorite person possibly in Chicago. The last thing you’re going to do is sulk near the stored ingredients while he shouts and pounds away at the freezer’s door.

This is his fucking fault. How fucking dare he? Why are you paying for his sin?

Just as it did the first time, the second time renders him, miraculously, speechless. It’s not because he doesn’t have anything to reply back, this is evident in how he purses his lips together and clenches his jaw. You notice it flex as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, previously hidden by the collar he’s now unbuttoned. He stares at you with a pointed gaze, eyebrows ever so slightly knitted inwards. Neither of you has to utter a single word to understand how much you can’t fucking stand each other, how Carmen is purposely holding back since you’ve caught his petulant tantrum and condescended him for it. The absence of sound between you two is grim as if he’s waiting for the apology, but fuck him, you’re not apologizing for shit. Instead, you mimic his facial expression like he’s staring into a mirror, crossing your arms against your chest for good measure to illustrate the guard he won’t be breaking through anytime soon.

Carmen steps forward. It’s a singular step. There’s only backwards to go before you end up meeting the shelves, so you remain where you are. His body heat radiates, prominent not because you’re that close, but because the freezer’s becoming more unforgiving the longer you’re both in here.

“Say it again,” he breathes.

You blink rapidly as if he’s a mirage, as if he’ll disappear, and as if he’s grown two other heads. He wants you to say it again? Is this some kind of a test? It has to be. There aren’t many other options, besides how he steps even closer within your vicinity and away from the locked palisade ahead. The temperature rises, and the fucked part about it is that your body’s instinctual need to survive urges you to collide into his frame to share feverish flames instead of standing in the chilled atmosphere on your lonesome. Carmen’s mandibles buckle, a sign of his bottled intentions, of what he really wants to say. You wish he’d just spit it out rather than goad you into the unemployment line.

“Call me a cunt again,” he dares and confirms your previous thoughts. He’s standing so close, proximity lacking to the point where his hot breath ghosts your nose and cheeks. Again, your instincts urge, and again, you will them to shut the fuck up and let me handle this. How convoluted and capricious you are. Arguing with innate impulses on the inside while arguing with your superior on the outside, fastened to him inside an icy cage as your coworkers take advantage of the kitchen’s liberating space without you. Fuck them too, they haven’t told either of you shit in what feels like forever and Carmen’s acting out of character. He’s not supposed to be with you like this. He’s not supposed to be gazing at you like he’s about to blow up. He’s not supposed to be challenging you into an impossible situation. You’ve called him a cunt twice. Twice. Three times symbolize the three strikes before you’re out.

Well, if you’re going out, you’re going down swinging your bat as hard as you can, spins and all, dirt flying and wind ricocheting. He’s thrown his virulence. Now, it’s your turn.

“Cun—nnnmph,” is not what you expected to utter, but before you could punctuate that final phoneme, Carmen’s mouth swallowed it greedily, and transitioned it into an astonished noise muffled by his lips. Your eyes flutter, searching his face for a way to explain why the hell this is happening, but suddenly, Carmen shifts his head, the kiss he’s sprung on you deepening, and an accidental swipe of his tongue shuts your eyes. All in a matter of two conflicted seconds.

“Thought you,” you murmur between his stifling, repeated connections, “wanted me to,” he’s practically shoving his tongue against yours, “call you a–”

He grunts in frustration. Seemingly towards you. His hands grasp your biceps, forcing your eyes onto his as his breathing shallows out. “Believe me, it won’t be the only time you put a cunt in my mouth tonight,” he says sharply. You don’t know why your thighs tremor. You fault the near-hypothermia.

“Shit, you’re cold,” he states the obvious as his attention turns to his palms on your arms, as if he didn’t just plant such a filthy image in your mind’s eye. His thumbs stroke over your goosebumps, examining your skin with careful scrutiny. If you didn’t know any better, you swear you see worry cross his visage for a moment. His hands aren’t any better, but they’re warmer than your flesh, and skin-to-skin makes this situation a little more bearable. You won’t tell him that, but he seems to have an idea of how you’re not flinching away from his touch. In fact… you’re leaning into it.

“Of course I am. It’s the walk-in,” you say sarcastically. “Wouldn’t be here if you had just called Tommy,” you add, but he exhales a heavy breath through his nose. He shrugs off his jacket to his Chef’s Whites, rolling his eyes, muttering something to himself about Tony, Terry, and Tommy, fucking fuck it all.

“Shut the fuck up, put this on, and turn around,” he hands you the jacket. He had the prerogative of wearing sleeves in here, so he’s not as frigid as you are (temperature-wise, anyway).

“It’ll keep you warm while I fuck you,” he promises, hard gaze on your eyes. You gulp, a desire within you to tell him off for being so presumptive of what’s happening here. Yet, that desire is viciously censored in favor of the desire to do as he says, or more so, the idea of being railed to distract you from how cold you are.

You slip his jacket on, pivoting on your heel, biting your tongue as you lean forward and grasp the metal belonging to the shelves ahead. The inside of his sleeves are already snug and cozy on your arms because of how long he wore it. You hate it. The smug bastard’s not supposed to be right.

You gulp as Carmen’s knuckles graze your lower back, lifting his jacket out of his way for a moment to tug at the waistband of your pants. You hear his breathing stutter, his hand skimming down the sensitive flesh of your ass as his eyes trace over the thin fabric of the panties you chose today.

“Is your underwear always this slutty?” He asks, his voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. To be fair, you didn’t know this would be happening today.

“Find out tomorrow,” you settle for. It seems to be the appropriate response because he groans and kneads at the flesh gathered at your hip as an appreciative gesture. This won’t be the last time this happens. It can’t be.

There’s rustling behind you. You hear the sound of Carmen’s belt before you feel the cold metal prod at the meat of your posterior, sent forward since he’s not fully tugging the leather material from the loops of his pants. It’s just enough for him to get at his zipper, the noise causing your hands to grip the shelves ahead of you even tighter. Carmen’s thumbnail slides along your skin as he tucks his thumb under your panties to position them to the side. The blunt head of him strokes at your entrance, his opposite hand pushing between your shoulder blades to exacerbate the bend at your hips and the pretty dip in your spine.

“You’re really hard for a man who’s surrounded by this much cold,” you mutter smugly. It’s all your doing, revving up his engine through simply challenging him amid his grizzly attack.

However, the smugness dies on your tongue once Carmen pushes in. He didn’t offer you a smartass response, instead offering you the breach of his length, the swollen head of him prying at your soaked walls up until his hips are flush with yours. Your trembling returns and it’s no longer because of the cool air, but because Carmen begins to thrust the second your cunt gives to him. Wrath fades from your mouth, and a moan replaces it, indicating your lust and enjoyment from this, much to your own dismay.

“M’this hard because I was thinking about how fucking warm you’d be around me,” he grunts, leaning over you and jostling you with his strong movements. His pace isn’t brutal, but the pressure of each of his thrusts is. He pulls back and then buries himself as deep as he could go, the sounds of his effort being in the way his hips collide with the flesh of your ass, a smack every time he hits it just right. And fuck, does he hit it just right. The horrible thing is it’ll stroke his massive ego. The great, amazing, toe-curling thing is that it feels like nirvana. The tip of his cock becomes acquainted with a pivotal point within you that has your vision blurred, unable to make out a single label of the cans and containers in front of your face.

“H-how warm is it?” You manage. Somehow. Conversation isn’t your prerogative while you’re bent over and being receptive, gasping for air every time you attempt to shift your hips back into him and he surpasses another inch inside of you. But you’re curious.

“Like a damn furnace,” he answers quickly, increasing his pace just as fast as the sentence leaves his mouth. “Tighter than I imagined,” he confesses, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. Your feet shuffle apart, legs spreading further for him as you pant and do your best not to whine. You can’t give him that satisfaction.

But it’s no use. His name shoots off your tongue like a prayer, a Freudian slip, his middle finger stroking along your clit in time with his bruising plunges.

“Wet, so, so fucking wet,” he continues, “drenching me and setting me on fire at the same fucking time.”

Fuck, you hope they never open that door.

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟎𝟕. 𝐠𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ 'Cause I'm all that you want, boy / All that you can have, boy / Got me spread like a buffet / Bon a—, bon appétit, baby — Katy Perry, Bon Appétit

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 7.2k

pairing— rough!dom!gn!reader x needy!sub!gojo

cws/tags— flatmates to fuckers, foodplay (melted chocolate), masochist satoru, finger sucking/face fucking, oral fixation, biting & gagging, petnames (“sweet thing” & “sugar”), spit kink, semi-clothed sex, reader is AFAB & wears a skirt + panties but isn’t gendered, oral (reader receiving), unprotected p in v

You stood in the dimly lit apartment's kitchen, a soft glow emanating from the pendant lights overhead, casting a warm ambience over the space. Positioned in front of the sleek, marble-topped island, you rested your hands on your hips, frustration evident in your furrowed brow.

In the midst of this culinary battlefield, three small bowls sat before you, each containing once-promising chocolate that had succumbed to the unpredictable art of tempering. The rich aroma still lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle notes of vanilla from earlier attempts. The chocolate, normally a delight, now seemed to mock your culinary ambitions.

As you peered down at the bowls a sense of disappointment washed over you, knowing that the dream of presenting homemade Halloween chocolates had met an untimely demise. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, a mixture of frustration and resignation, as you brought your hand up to rub the tense muscles at the back of your neck. The dream of crafting perfect, glossy chocolates for the spooky season had slipped through your fingers. 

Satoru, your affable and easygoing flatmate, stepped into the room, the soft fabric of his customary loungewear draped loosely over his athletic frame. The dim lighting of the apartment accentuated the subdued tones of his grey sweatpants and the way the black compression t-shirt clung to his physique, emphasising the sinewy contours of his muscled form. Each movement he made seemed to embody a sort of graceful confidence, a testament to his inherent athleticism.

However, as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, an air of concern etched itself onto his handsome features. His normally unwavering composure faltered upon encountering your sour expression, directed toward the trio of pitiable bowls harbouring the remnants of your chocolaty struggle.

The scent, thick and enveloping, wafted through the room, a bittersweet reminder of the culinary clash that had taken place. He chose to remain still, absorbing the atmosphere and discerning the unspoken frustration that hung in the air.

You managed an awkward smile, a mixture of sheepishness and embarrassment colouring your expression.

"A failed experiment," you clarified, attempting to lighten the mood. "Any chance you have a sweet tooth?"

Satoru hesitated for a brief moment, contemplating the question. His curiosity got the better of him as he stepped closer to the kitchen island to inspect the unfortunate outcome of your chocolate endeavour. Extending a hand, he scooped a bit of the still-warm milk chocolate with his finger, eyeing it thoughtfully.

After a few contemplative moments, he turned to you with a playful yet polite inquiry, "D'you mind?"

You shrugged, your gaze shifting back to the three bowls with a resigned acceptance.

"Have at it. I can't have all of this by myself," you conceded, gesturing toward the bowls.

Finding a sense of shared amusement in the situation, you followed suit and dipped your own finger into the bowl containing the melted dark chocolate. Bringing it to your lips, you sampled the richness of the chocolate, the bittersweet taste momentarily distracting you from the earlier disappointment. 

Satoru's eyes, a vivid shade of blue that often held a sense of calm and composure, suddenly lit up with a spark of excitement—He had been granted permission to indulge in a long-awaited craving. Without hesitation, he dipped his fingers into the velvety pool of melted dark chocolate, his movements deliberate yet filled with a childlike enthusiasm.

As he brought his chocolate-coated fingers to his lips, his tongue skillfully sweeping away the decadent layer, the rosy hue of his lips contrasted beautifully with the rich darkness of the chocolate. 

He froze.

His sapphire eyes widened, locking onto the sight of you licking your own finger clean of the dark chocolate. A curious realisation washed over his expression, and a flicker of something deeper, something like a revelation, danced in his gaze.

Seizing the last remnants of the dark chocolate, you adeptly licked your finger clean, sampling the taste before moving on to the bowl of melted white chocolate. With a dip of your finger, you retrieved a dollop and raised it to your lips, tasting the creamy sweetness.

A hum escaped you, followed by a subtle wrinkling of your nose. "I'm not a big fan of white chocolate. Too sweet," you remarked, your taste buds delivering their verdict.

Satoru, still fixated on observing this simple act, the way you interacted with the chocolate, nodded in acknowledgement at your assessment. His face carried an intense curiosity, as if a peculiar notion was taking shape within his mind. However, he chose to keep it unspoken, opting to silently study you.

You shifted your position, perching on the kitchen island near the array of chocolate-filled bowls, anticipating that this impromptu chocolate-tasting session might extend for a while.

"D'you like white chocolate?" you inquired.

Satoru paused his indulgence for a moment, his lips still adorned with a delicate coat of chocolate. He nodded in response to your question, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, though his unwavering gaze remained locked onto you. With a casual ease, he delved into the white chocolate, his eyes staying fixed on you as he licked his finger clean.

"Y'know, since I moved in, I've noticed that you have a bit of a sweet tooth," you remarked, beginning to ramble. "I'm not surprised you like white chocolate. I mean, it has so little cocoa in it... Can it even be called chocolate, d'you think?"

Satoru's attention remained steadfastly fixed on you, his expression pensive as if pondering your words. His gentle smile conveyed an understanding, and his fingers absentmindedly weaved through his fluffy white hair while he took in your observations.

In a moment of quiet contemplation, he finally broke the silence, his voice soft but purposeful in its delivery. "Do you... Do that a lot?"

You looked at him, the question catching you slightly off guard. "Do what?" you inquired, a hint of amusement in your tone, as you dipped your finger into the inviting bowl of melted milk chocolate this time.

"Licking your fingers," he clarified, his voice carrying a subtle playfulness accompanied by a knowing smile. "Licking your fingers clean."

Your laughter danced through the air. "Sure, when there's melted chocolate involved... You'd be crazy not to, y'know?" 

Satoru continued to gaze at you with a gentle, almost dreamy smile, as if captivated by the act of you enjoying the chocolate. His demeanour carried a sense of reverence, akin to admiring a work of art. However, suddenly snapping out of this trance-like reverie, a subtle blush adorned his cheeks as he averted his gaze.

He cleared his throat and hummed, the sound breaking the quietness that had settled between you two. "Is that a habit of yours?"

You tilted your head to the side, considering his question as you had the remnants of chocolate, culminating in a soft 'pop' as you removed your finger from your mouth.

"If I had enough melted chocolate, then I could make it one," you mused.

Satoru's interest visibly piqued, and with a deliberate movement, he drew closer, inching towards you. His gaze remained fixed on you, observing with a gentle intensity as you continued to enjoy the chocolate. As he reached your side, he leaned with self-conscious nonchalance against the kitchen island.

Caught in the allure of the moment, Satoru's gaze remained fixed on your lips, captivated by the simple act of you licking your finger. The gentle rise of heat within him went unnoticed, overshadowed by his complete and unwavering focus on you, and the delicate sound of that 'pop’.

With a deep breath, drawn slow and deliberate, he collected his thoughts, grappling with a desire to express something that lay just beyond the surface. His voice, almost a whisper, emerged from within, barely audible but charged with unspoken sentiment. "Your tongue."

"Hm?"

Satoru nodded towards your lips, his words carrying a delicate weight, almost as if he were posing a question. 

"Your tongue," he whispered again, this time as if gently seeking understanding, his hand tentatively lifting toward your face, but hesitated mid-motion.

Your bemused expression remained intact as you pushed the bowl of white chocolate towards Satoru, ignoring the subtle undercurrents of the moment. "Yeah, I have one. Eat up, I can't finish all this by myself.”

Satoru's gaze shifted from the yearning in his eyes to one of unadulterated delight, like a child left unattended in a sweet shop. 

"Thanks," he said. With the same childlike enthusiasm, he dipped his finger into the white chocolate and licked it clean, relishing the creamy sweetness.

With a subtle shift, he moved the bowl closer to your side. His finger then dipped into the dark chocolate bowl, and he held it out to you, looking up with a gentle, inviting expression. Your smile remained genuine as you dipped your finger into the dark chocolate, indulging in its rich taste. As you licked your finger clean, indulging in the chocolatey delight, you noticed Satoru's presence, his gaze focused on the act with a kind of intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His deep hum of pleasure only added to the charged atmosphere, making you acutely aware of his fixation on your lips, your tongue, the movement of every gesture.

For Satoru, this innocent act held a captivating allure, his eyes ensnared by the graceful motion of your tongue, the way your finger was slowly inserted into your mouth, coated by a mix of saliva and chocolate. The heat within him surged, the internal struggle to maintain composure becoming more challenging with each passing moment. 

You dipped the corner of your thumb into the white chocolate bowl and confirmed your earlier assessment with a wrinkled nose.

"Nope. Still far too sweet," you murmured in good-natured complaint, aiming an accusatory glare at the offending bowl.

Satoru's focus remained intense, the proximity between the two of you forgotten. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady the rising tide of emotions that threatened to betray his composure. In a soft, barely audible whisper, he let out his unspoken admiration, a phrase that held a tenderness akin to an awe-filled sigh. 

"So pretty," he breathed, his lips forming a gentle, almost childlike smile.

"Did you say something?" you asked, momentarily distracted by your thoughts.

Satoru tore his gaze away from you and mumbled an apologetic, "Nothing."

He sought solace in the act of dipping his finger into the milk chocolate. The taste of chocolate melted on his taste buds, prompting a soft sigh of satisfaction as he closed his eyes. After a brief hesitation, he whispered, "Can I have more?"

His attention still captured by the subtle movements of your lips, he wrestled with the longing to taste your smile. The internal flames of desire roared, the struggle to maintain restraint growing more intense, and it was a miracle he hadn’t melted into a puddle of lust-sick goo.

"Sure, go ahead. I've got too much, and I don't wanna waste it," you replied casually, "I was gonna make some chocolates for Halloween, but I messed up tempering the chocolate, so they wouldn't come out right."

Satoru's attention was entranced, his senses consumed by the choreography of your speech. The movement of your lips, the delicate dance of your tongue against your teeth, the mesmerising gestures of your fingers—every nuance held a captivating allure for him. His gaze lingered on your lips, caught in the magnetic pull of your eyes and the subtle curves of your mouth as you spoke. Each syllable seemed to ripple through the air, carrying a delicate beauty that intoxicated him. Oh, how he yearned to draw closer and drink you in, to taste you and to feel you.

You dipped two fingers into the bowl of dark chocolate, the rich, velvety substance clinging to your digits as you simultaneously lifted them to your lips and expertly licked them clean with the graceful sweep of your tongue.

You broke the silence that had enveloped the kitchen. "Are you more of a sweets person or a chocolate person?"

As Satoru reflected on your question, his mind wandered back to a distant memory, a recollection of a fateful evening many years ago. It was the night his parents had finally allowed him to venture outside the Gojo family estate to experience the joy of Trick-or-Treating for the first time. That night had left an indelible mark on him, igniting a lifelong love for sweets of all kinds, and the memory of that sugar rush had stayed with him throughout the years. Satoru had always been known for his adoration of sweets; The answer was sweets.

"Chocolate," he said softly, his gaze remaining fixated on your lips.

"Yeah, same here. Nothing beats chocolate, y'know?" 

Satoru's attention remained captivated by the mesmerising movements of your tongue and lips. He observed the way your lips puckered subtly as you cleaned some milk chocolate from your thumb, the simple act imbued with an unintentional allure. So engrossed was he in this subtle spectacle that he leaned closer to you, drawn in by the magnetic pull of you.

As Satoru leaned closer, your laughter, soft and delightful, broke through the air, the sound music to his ears.

"You have a little somethin'," you pointed out, your grin warm and inviting as you nodded towards him.

He felt a pleasant warmth surge through him as he absorbed your cute smile, the contours of it, and the way it seemed to brighten the room. Realising what you meant, he couldn't help but form a small line with his lips, a faint blush gracing his cheeks. Stepping back slightly, a hint of bashfulness crept into his demeanour, though his fascination with you lingered.

"Aren't you gonna clean it off, or is it a new look for you?" you teased with a chuckle, pointing to the corner of his mouth where a smudge of milk chocolate remained.

Satoru's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement as he quickly wiped the corner of his mouth clean.

"New look," he mumbled, trying to maintain a playful demeanour despite the warmth that had crept into his face.

Suppressing a laugh, you couldn't help but add: "You missed a spot."

His embarrassment grew as he hurriedly wiped his mouth again, and his response carried a slightly sharp tone. "There. Happy now?"

As his gaze met yours again, it travelled down your neck, fixating on the curve of your shoulder with an undeniable longing. 

A gasp of surprise escaped Satoru as you took matters into your own hands, or rather, your thumb. Feeling the soft pad of your thumb brushing against the corner of his lips, he momentarily lost himself in the sensation, the brief touch sending a shiver through his body. A soft, quiet moan that escaped him.

You efficiently cleaned the melted chocolate, and then with a playful flair, brought your thumb to your mouth, licking it clean. "There. Now you're all good."

Satoru was left slightly breathless, the warmth of the interaction lingering on his lips.

The air in the kitchen crackled with a newfound energy as you dipped your finger into the white chocolate, purposefully smearing a bit onto your lips, a playful innuendo that hung in the air. 

Satoru chuckled, his eyes fixated on the white chocolate smeared across your lips, the sight igniting a fiery heat within him. His gaze was intense, captivated by the way you licked your lips clean, a soft hum of awe escaping him.

He raised his own finger, dipping it into the white chocolate. Instead of smearing, he chose a different path, bringing his finger to his lips and licking the chocolate clean with deliberate precision. His eyes remained locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze reflecting the overwhelming desire to be closer to you, to taste your sweetness, to let his tongue be a messenger of longing. 

Satoru's anticipation was palpable as he watched you dip your thumb into the dark chocolate bowl. A smile gracing his lips as you cupped his jaw in your hand, the connection between you growing more profound with each passing moment. He closed his eyes, surrendering.

As the tip of your chocolate-coated thumb brushed against his mouth, a deep, shaky breath escaped him, his body trembling. With eyes still closed, he opened his mouth, inviting the sweet temptation within. Your thumb slipped between his lips, and his tongue curled around it, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the rising desire within him. He sucked on your thumb, a soft, low moan escaping his parted lips as he savoured the taste of the dark chocolate. His mouth remained wrapped around your thumb, your fingers caressing the back of his head, adding to the intoxicating sensations that enveloped him. His body quivered with a fervour, his tongue darting out to lick away the chocolate, creating a soft, wet sensation that sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

Satoru tilted his head, his tongue wrapping around your thumb with a gentle intensity. The sensations that coursed through you were titillating, the intimacy of the moment leaving you both breathless. He continued to suck, using his tongue to expertly remove the melted dark chocolate, the soft, wet sucking noise adding a seductive cadence to the air. As your thumb emerged clean, a rush of satisfaction swept over him.

You delicately slid your thumb out of his mouth, and in a hushed murmur, you inquired, "How'd it taste?"

Satoru's eyes remained fixed on your thumb, still moist from the encounter. A slight smile of satisfaction graced his lips as he studied the string of saliva between his lips and your thumb. He inhaled the lingering aroma. Swallowing, his voice emerged as a quiet rasp, carrying a raw honesty. "Like you."

"Good, then?"

"Good," he murmured as he swallowed again.

As Satoru gently pressed your thumb against his lips, letting it rest there, a gentle sigh escaped him. The touch was a buzz, the taste of chocolate mingled with the essence of you.

Your thumb brushed against his lower lip. The desire within him surged, and the restraint he held onto began to slip. His swirling blue eyes, intense and craving, remained locked onto yours. Unable to resist the allure, Satoru softly sucked on your thumb, the pleasure of the act unmistakable. A soft moan escaped him, his body trembling.

With your free hand, you dipped your fingers into the melted dark chocolate, smearing the rich, velvety substance against Satoru's pale cheek. The contrast between the dark chocolate and his fair skin was a strinking sight—though, rather than marring him, it only made him look all the more mouth-watering. Leaning closer, your tongue pressed to his cheek, tracing a deliberate stripe across the soft skin. The taste of him mingled with the bitter chocolate—a sensual fusion. 

He felt an earnest heat surge through him as your tongue left a searing mark on his cheek, his eyes closing once more. With a growing hunger, he pulled your thumb deeper into his mouth, savouring the taste. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he drew closer, standing between your legs as you sat on the kitchen island. 

He released small sounds of pleasure as you pushed your thumb deeper into his mouth, the taste and sensation overwhelming. The tightness of his embrace around your waist conveyed the intensity of his hunger, his starvation.

A moan escaped him, the pleasure and desire spiralling, but it was swiftly followed by a quiet, choked sound as the sensations grew more potent. His breath quickened, and as his eyes fluttered open, he sought to communicate his need for a moment to breathe. Despite this, he eagerly accepted your thumb once more, craving the taste and the connection it offered.

Sensing his state, you displayed a playful smirk against his cheek, acknowledging the effect you had on him. The soft kiss against his cheek and the withdrawal of your thumb granted him the ability to breathe properly, a relief he welcomed.

With Satoru standing so close, you nuzzled his neck, your words murmured against his skin. "You taste amazing."

"You taste perfect," he responded, laden with longing. The soft, hungry moans escaped him.

As he leaned his head forward, exposing his neck, the invitation was clear, and you gladly accepted. Your tongue swirled and pressed against his neck, your teeth grazing his skin, each touch and sensation eliciting pretty moans and pants from him. The proximity, the taste of you, and the closeness between you had his body trembling.

His fingers clutched at your waist, a silent plea for more, for the delicious torment to continue. The line between flatmate and something else was blurred, replaced by a yearning that begged for fulfilment.

The intensity of the moment reached its peak as Satoru's body betrayed him, his knees beginning to buckle against the kitchen island. His heart raced, his breath quickened, and soft sighs of pleasure escaped him, each exhalation laden with desire. The sensations coursing through him were overwhelming, and he surrendered to the pleasure that enveloped him.

Your touch, cradling his head and pressing him closer to your body, ignited a fire within him that burned away his self-restraint. His breaths came in short, sharp gulps, his eyes tightly closed as he continued to moan, the sounds a testament to the exquisite torment he was experiencing. His fingers, which had initially clung to your waist, transformed into a desperate grip—a plea for more, more, more. He yearned for you to devour him in the sweetest way possible.

The sensation of your teeth sinking into his neck sent a jolt through Satoru's body, his eyes snapping open as his breath hitched in response. The vibrations of your satisfied hum resonated down his spine straight to his loins, to that more primal hunger. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

Cute whimpers escaped him as you continued to sink your teeth into his neck, the dark purplish bruises forming under the ravenous caress of your lips. The indulgent torment left him trembling with need and longing. As you soothed the bite marks with your tongue, sucking and kissing them, his body shivered with pleasure. 

"Are you trying to make me like a dessert...?" Satoru whispered in playful anticipation.

"I might eat you like one," you mused, laughter dancing through your words.

Satoru chuckled softly, his hand tenderly running along the back of your neck, the gentle strokes sending waves of pleasure through you.

"Please?" he hoarsely pleaded for a taste that would satiate more than just a physical hunger.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, revelling in the intoxicating closeness. Nuzzling against your neck, his face brushed against your skin with a gentle touch, a platter of kisses, licks, and nibbles that sent ripples of pleasure through you.

His fingers continued their tender exploration, stroking your hair and tracing a slow, deliberate path down your back. Each touch felt like a caress, mapping the curves and contours of your body, as if he were committing the sensation to memory, an artist tenderly tracing the lines of a masterpiece.

You played your part, dipping your fingers into the bowl of milk chocolate with a deliberate laziness, making a show of it, relishing in the decadent act. With a flourish, you sucked the melted chocolate off your fingers, the sound deliberate and loud, a performance that filled the air. Your moans of pleasure, meant for the chocolate but echoing sensually, added to the provocative display. All the while, Satoru was there, an edacious audience to the mesmerising act.

His soft whine of pleasure resonated with the sounds and sights before him. His eyes fluttered open, capturing the eniticing sight of you licking your lips, the taste and aroma of chocolate lingering in the air. His breath caught in his throat, and he let out soft, whining noises of his own, growing louder with each passing moment.

"Open," you whispered, and he obeyed without a moment's hesitation. His mouth slightly parted, pupils dilated with thirst, his gaze locked onto yours.

You leaned closer, the distance between your lips mere inches. The world seemed to hold its breath.

You allowed your milk chocolate-flavoured saliva to drip into his waiting mouth. It was a blend of your essence and the sweetness of chocolate, a taste that sent shivers down his spine. Satoru's grip on your skin tightened as he welcomed the sensation, his mouth opening wider to take in every precious drop. A loud, moan escaped him as he drank in your saliva, the taste of you leaving an indelible mark—trembling with the insatiable craving for you.

"Swallow," you commanded, and he obeyed, swallowing with a soft moan. The pleasure it elicited was evident, his grip on your neck tightening as he continued to make soft, whimpering noises, his gaze fixed on you with an unquenchable thirst.

You leaned in closer, "You like that, don't you?" you whispered, a smugness colouring your tone, gorging on the effect you had on him.

"I love it," Satoru murmured, his voice laced with desire and desperation. "I need more," he confessed, the yearning in his words palpable.

You laughed. "Hungry for more of me?"

"Starving.”

The intimate tension in the air was palpable, a force that left Satoru's features adorned with a flush of the most captivating shade of red. His blue eyes, half-lidded and filled with desire, were fixated on you, a thirst burning within them that yearned to devour you.

With a rapaciousness that knew no bounds, Satoru's hands grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. Soft, whimpering escaped him as your hips rolled against his, setting his senses ablaze. The press of your body against his was a sensation he craved, and his eyes pleaded with a famished longing, begging for more.

You smeared chocolate against his neck, the tactile sensation adding to the symphony of pleasure that enveloped the room. Satoru's body trembled as he ground against you, the sounds of his moans and whimpers filling the kitchen. He moaned louder as you bit down on his neck, the sensation shooting a wave of electrifying pleasure through him. His teeth ached in response, his mouth watering for you. 

"D'you wanna kiss me, sugar? You wanna taste me for real?" Your lips then found his earlobe, nibbling and licking, a promise of the sensations that could be.

Satoru, overcome with longing, nodded eagerly, a trickle of sweat tracing the line of his flushed face. His grip on your waist tightened, his body moving against yours with a growing urgency, fueled by an insatiable need to be closer, to taste the reality of this desire.

“Then beg,” you commanded.

Satoru's voice, hoarse and raw with desire, quivered as he responded, his moans merging with the symphony of the moment. He pressed his nose into your neck, your proximity overwhelming his senses. 

"Please… Please, I need to feel you. I need to taste you. I need you," he mumbled, his words a desperate plea for the intimacy he craved.

You didn't hold back, the smugness of your laughter giving way to a ravenous kiss. He trembled in your embrace, his mouth opening to welcome the invasion of your tongue. The taste of chocolate and the essence of you mingled, a heady combination that sent his senses into a whirlwind. His tongue writhed against yours, a desperate attempt to enjoy every bit of you. He was a man starved, and he groaned into the kiss.

"Please, I need more," he breathed into your mouth—a chant of desire.

His body quaked with the intensity of his yearning, grinding against you. Your fingernails dug into his neck, making him hiss through gritted teeth. He whimpered as he sucked on your tongue, every moan and every swallow consuming him, the taste of you imprinted on his senses, an imprint he never wanted to fade. He squirmed against your body, wanting more. 

As you pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips, you could feel the boiling energy in the room.

You wasted no time, plunging your hand into the bowl of melted white chocolate, your fingers finding their way into his greedy mouth. The accidental smear down his chin only added to the intensity, as his eyes closed in pure pleasure. His mouth welcomed your fingers, allowing them to slide in, savouring the taste of the chocolate that spilled down his throat. Each swallow was accompanied by a moan and a whine, the chocolate causing his body to shiver.

Satoru's own grip tightened, his fingers pressing against the back of your head as he sucked and licked, his tongue exploring for every last drop of the chocolate. The desire in his eyes was palpable, the hunger for both of you consuming every waking thought.

You pushed your fingers even deeper into his mouth, eliciting his gag reflex, and his eyes fluttered. "Aw, aren't you so cute?" you teased, your hips rolling in a tantalising rhythm that added to the mounting desire.

Satoru pressed his hips against yours with fervour, driven by the craving to taste every precious drop of the chocolate and your essence.

"I'll do anything to taste you," he whined.

You met his desire with a challenge, arching an eyebrow and pulling your fingers out of his mouth, the same hand covered in the glistening trail of spit that connected you moments ago. Gripping his jaw with determination, you presented him with the opportunity to fulfil his longing.

"Taste me, then."

Satoru's eyes widened with hunger as your spit hit his mouth, his anticipation palpable. Before he could react, you thrust your fingers into his mouth, pushing them down his throat. He gagged and moaned, the sensations both overwhelming and exhilarating. Your saliva mixed with the chocolate was a unique flavour, a taste he craved to savour. As he swallowed your saliva, he choked and whimpered loudly, the feeling of your fingers pressing deeper down his throat.

The wicked grin on your face mirrored the intensity of the moment, a dance of desire that showed no signs of slowing down. One of his own hands gripped your wrist, forcing your fingers to stay shoved down his throat. With determination, you pumped your fingers in and out of his mouth, pushing him to experience the full extent of his cravings.

"Taste all you can," you snickered.

Satoru responded with a loud, girlish whine of desire, his pretty eyes rolling back as he tried to gulp and swallow your spit. The mixture of pleasure, anticipation, and need had him in a trance, and he couldn't get enough. Drool spilt from his rosy lips down his chin, a visible testament to his craving for you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his moans filling the kitchen as he devoured you. His body writhed against your fingers, the need to taste, to consume, to gorge, to ravage… He couldn’t think.

"Yeah, that's it. That's it, sweet thing. Good, keep going," you chuckled, urging him on.

He responded with a loud, lustful squeak of pleasure. His body pressed against yours with all his weight, the kitchen island providing support as he ground against you. Slick with a layer of your sweet saliva, his tongue was a tantalising instrument, pressing against your fingers with a desperate need. The sensation of his teeth and tongue exploring your fingers was trilling, and he gorged on every moment, wanting to taste all of you at once.

"Alright, that's enough," you said with a teasing click of your teeth.

As you tugged on his fluffy white hair and withdrew your fingers from his mouth, wiping them against his cheek, Satoru let out a loud whine of disappointment. He was left in a state of famine—wanting more, needing more, craving more—your very own Tantalus.

Moaning and looking at you with pleading eyes, saliva dripping down the corner of his mouth, his cheeks pink and lips parted, he whimpered your name softly. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to regain his composure.

“But I… I want... I want more,” he whined breathily, desire consuming him.

You leaned in, your lips finding his jaw, and whispered enticingly in his ear, "But I'm impressed, sugar... I think you deserve more of me." 

You softly bit his earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. Your hands moved with purpose, sliding down to his waist and undoing his belt. The sound of it hitting the floor filled the kitchen, the noise accentuating the anticipation that hung heavily in the air. Satoru shivered with excitement, his eyes rolling back into his head as his fingers dug into your back.

"Please, please, please…”

With trembling hands, his fingers working eagerly to remove the fabric that stood between him and you. He slid his fingers under the hem of your skirt, the touch against the smooth, soft fabric of your underwear making him whine with longing. The lace against his fingertips was a sensation that drove him wild, his fingers writhing in response to the intoxicating touch.

As you leaned in and bit his neck, the pleasure intensified, his breath catching in his throat as he moaned. Every touch, every instruction was a step further into the Third Circle.

"Go on, take them off for me," you whispered, the urgency in your voice coaxing him to act. 

Satoru's obedience was instant. His trembling hands slid your panties down your legs, the quiet rustling noise filling the charged air. As the fabric was removed, his eyes were fixated on you, the hunger in his gaze undeniable. Lifting your leg to rest against his hip, he was granted a provocative view of your body. Desire burned brightly in his eyes as he took in the sight, captivated by the allure before him. 

Your playful smirk spurred you to make a spectacle, a teasing display that left nothing to the imagination. You opened your legs, presenting yourself like a meal on a silver platter being served to a starving man. Satoru's eyes were fixated on you, drinking in the sight of your form, eyes latched onto how your cunt was slick and needy with the arousal that had gathered from him gagging on your fingers. 

With a teasing confidence, your hands moved to undo the strings of Satoru's grey sweatpants, where you could very clearly see the aching hard-on he sported. His heaving breaths filled the air, as your hand pressed against his leg and your skirt was hoisted up further, exposing more of your tempting form.

As your fingers explored his skin, tracing the contours of his thigh, his body quivered with longing. Your hands moved freely up and down the meat of his thighs, gripping and squeezing his flesh.

"Like what you see, sweet thing?" 

Every fibre of his being yearned to taste you, to devour you whole until you could offer no more. His whines grew louder, his desperation palpable as your fingers danced along his thigh, your touch inching to his throbbing cock that dripped with precum and was flushed a pretty red.

“Love what I see.”

Lust hung in the dense air, hung between Satoru’s legs, between your thighs. He leaned in, his intent clear, and his tongue traced a path along your thigh. As his skilled fingers explored every curve, every contour of your being, his lips kissed and suckled on your inner thighs, leaving trails of desire in their wake. You could sense his hunger, a ravenous appetite for the taste of you.

Your lips curled into a coy, lustful smile as you lifted his chin with your fingers, meeting the depth of his hungry gaze. His face was a portrait of desire, the scorching flames of longing reflected in his eyes. 

"Please. I'm starving," he breathed out, his plea shivering with yearning.

"Starving, huh? I guess I shouldn't let you go hungry," you drawled. You dipped your fingers into the bowl of melted milk chocolate and smeared some across your inner thigh. "Are you a messy eater, sugar?"

"I… I’m…" he stammered with a bright blush.

Your fingers laced into his hair as you pulled his head closer, and he was lost in the intoxicating embrace of your thighs. His tongue danced and swirled, relishing the sweet taste of the milk chocolate and the essence of you.

"Eat your heart out," you purred, your nails grazing his scalp—a delicious torment.

The sensations coursing through your body were electrifying, and Satoru's pious ministrations between your thighs left you gasping and trembling with pleasure. His strong hands gripped your hips, urging you to press harder against his face as he explored every inch of dripping your cunt.

His mouth moved with rhythmic precision, his lips slick with your wetness and his saliva as he lavished you. Each deliberate nudge of his nose against your clit sent waves of pleasure cascading through your body, making you arch your back and moan in ecstasy. 

Satoru's half-lidded eyes, dark with hunger and desire, bore into yours, and his whimpers of praise only made your desire consume you more. He yearned to taste and devour every drop of your essence, relishing the thought of making it run down your thighs so he could eagerly lap it up—or even better, make it squirt straight into his mouth for his desperate taste buds.

Your moans grew louder and more urgent, your fingers digging into his hair as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure building within you. 

Satoru's tongue delved deeper, and the sensations intensified as he explored your most sensitive depths. Your gasps and moans filled the air as he continued to pleasure you. He maintained a steady rhythm, his movements deliberate and measured, aiming to drive you to the peak of ecstasy. With each thrust of his tongue and gentle exploration of your inner walls, your breath quickened and your body quivered with anticipation. He watched you hungrily, his eyes locked on yours, seeking the signs of your pleasure. 

Satoru's mouth found its way back to your clit, and his skilled tongue traced precise circles around the tender bundle of nerves. The wet, warm sensation sent ripples through you, each flicker of contact causing your body to tremble with delight. The vibrations from his moans spurred on your own ravenous hunger.

Your body responded involuntarily, hips arching towards him in a silent plea for more. He picked up the pace, increasing the intensity of his movements, fully immersing himself in the art of pleasuring you. Every motion of his tongue, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips, only made him devour and drink you in more.

Just before you could cum on his tongue, and much to Satoru’s dismay, you wrenched his head away.

As your lips crashed together in a desperate, passionate kiss, your bodies moulded against each other in a frenzied dance of desire. Satoru's surprised yelp transformed into a moan of pleasure, the taste of you on his tongue heightening his longing. You felt him slide inside you, the sensation making your breath hitch and a loud moan escape your lips. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, seeking the intimate closeness that only heightened the pleasure you both craved. With each thrust, every movement, your bodies consumed each other as fully as you could.

His moans merged with yours, a harmonious blend of pleasure and satisfaction that echoed in the room. The sounds of your passionate union filled the air, a sweet melody of ecstasy that enveloped you both. The world faded away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, consumed by the intense connection and unyielding desire that drove you closer to the edge.

Satoru's desire and urgency radiated through every touch, every thrust, driving you both closer to the brink. Each movement of his body brought a symphony of pleasure, filling the kitchen with the sounds of your shared desire. Your cries of delight mingled with his, deepening with every thrust, as he pressed against you with increasing urgency born of the overwhelming desire that ravished you both. As Satoru's cock delved deeper inside you, the sensation of your wet pussy contracting and fluttering around him sent ripples of pleasure through his body, amplifying the intensity of his movements. 

He just couldn’t help himself.

In that moment of release, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the intensity of pleasure and the shared ecstasy that enveloped you both. Your bodies moved as one, driven by an insatiable hunger and aching desire for each other. Satoru's cries of bliss mingled with your own, a symphony of pleasure as he spilled into you, a torrent of warmth that further heightened your climax. Satoru's fervent thrusts reached a crescendo, his voice echoing through the room as he spilled his essence into your waiting warmth.

His release triggered a cascade of sensations, the intensity of which was almost overwhelming. His cries of ecstasy and the way he clung to you, his body trembling with the power of his climax, were etched into your memory. Thick spurts of cum filled you as he continued to pound into you.

Your body quaked and convulsed, the sensation of his cum filling you only amplifying the intensity of your own orgasm. The pleasure rippled through you, coursing through every nerve and fibre, leaving you gasping and shivering in the aftermath. It was a moment of pure abandon, where all that mattered was the pleasure you both had ignited within each other.

As the waves of ecstasy subsided, you found yourselves entwined, chests heaving, and breaths mingling in the air. The kitchen was filled with a heady mix of desire and still, although faintly, of chocolate.

The two of you slumped against the kitchen island, completely exhausted. The silence between you is thick. Neither of you says anything to each other and you can hear your panting breathing. You can feel Satoru’s chest rapidly rising and falling as he stayed pressed to you, and he reluctantly pulled out.

Satoru breathed shakily, but was still unable to speak coherently. His face was flushed and still recovering. He looked at you and you could see the glazed-over look of afterglow in his eyes. He looks like a panting mess of exhaustion, forcing out the next few words.

“I need you,” he whispered.

Satoru's lips found yours in a soft, wet kiss before you could respond. A passionate kiss, his mouth searching and seeking, taking in every taste, every curve and caress of your lips. Soft, gentle. Hungry and relentless. His hands moved into your hair, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your neck, tracing every curve. His lips pressed and retreated, press… Retreat… Press… There was an undeniable hunger to it—a hunger you now understood, and now shared.

“I need you, too.”

a/n: peep the five stars. peep the Tantalus reference. peep the Dante's Inferno reference. Happy Kinktober! :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[ladythornofrivia]

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Three)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: modern!reader bloody and beaten up but the prince interrupted the scene.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

a/n: please read chapter 2 before reading chapter 3 to know what’s happening. I hope you don’t mind long chapters.

Chapter Three: The House of Black & Green

~ Aemond’s POV ~

Thunder and rain barraged outside the Red Keep. So does Aemond’s heart, thundering and disoriented, clashing like the volcanos in the Doom of Valyria.

Aegon, on the other hand—surprisingly—stopped drinking; silently looking beyond the carved hole and examined the events unfold.

A gush of blood tainted onto the stoned floor when Ser Marrow thrashed your body forward, collapsing with a wet thud.

In the house of the dragons, Targaryens and Velaryons immediately stood from their seats, watching the events unfold. Ser Marrow huffed with his might, abiding for the Targaryens to come to an understanding with Ser Marrow’s reasons.

Alicent rose onto her feet and hoisted you up, but only meet halfway by you sitting up, bleeding as Alicent untied the blindfold and shielded you with her arms, as if Alicent has regret something in the first place.

“Explain yourself, Ser Marrow,” Alicent demanded, brows furrowed in ferocious temper.

Rhaenyra got up from her chair at a slow pace, mouth opened with terror at your current state. She knew that you were hurt from the battle; poisoned by the blade piercing through your youthful flesh.

“I was only doing good for the realm, to keep the peace intact,” Ser Marrow explained. “For Targaryen dynasty!”

“Lady (y/n) rescued my daughter from falling off the bridge, and you call it a ‘threat’,” Alicent defended.

Rhaenyra contained her wrath when Ser Marrow spoke for the ‘good of the realm’. “She saved my son,” she scolded him. “If it wasn’t for her, my son would’ve been killed from the wretched fools.”

“Yes, the wretched fools that this thing brought to the Red Keep!” Ser Marrow accused. “People are dead because of this monstrous bitch!”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “Ser Marrow, you forget yourself. What in the Seven Hells are you thinking? Beating her to a pulp, causing an uproar in the room was no good of excuse for you to gain sympathy of your ranking from us! Why do you think so highly of yourself? Have you had no shame on what you’ve caused?”

Ser Marrow hesitated for a moment, looking at you, then looking back at Rhaenyra. “I only did my duty, princess. Should she stay here in King’s Landing, death and destruction will bring upon the Targaryen line.”

“She did what she had to do to keep my family safe—”

“She’s a monster!” Ser Marrow bellowed. “A monster hiding beneath the human skin. She’s isn’t ordinary! Dangerous and filled with malice and lascivious intents to destory Westeros!”

Rhaenyra sighed, shaking her head. Prince Daemon, who stood the corner of the room, watched the events unfold.

Meanwhile, Alicent still embraced you tight, lessening the anxiety you were trying to suppress.

Aemond watched you from afar. Even awake, he found himself focused on your features—all fragile with grace and beauty within quietude. Droplets sank onto your tainted dress and your once immaculate hair has disarray from hair pulling. Aemond kept his composure and cast his sentimental aside.

Behind him, Aegon took notice of this, but said none; only amusement etched onto his drunken face.

“How dare you raised your voice against me, your future Queen, an heir to the Iron Throne and Seven Kingdoms?!” Rhaenyra declared.

Ser Marrow chuckled. “We all know in our hearts that you will never be queen or inherit the throne like that Rhaenys bitch, stringing along in a comfortably life with that old and weak man like that Sea Snake fucker!”

Everyone’s eyes snapped at his statement. Even Aemond’s and Aegon’s—halt from their tracks.

“Oh yes, surely you think it’s time to realize that you, a woman with big tits, hideous face and a loose cunt will never stand a chance against the son to rule to Seven Kingdoms on the Iron Throne. Sons are meant to rule, never the daughters.”

Rhaenyra had gone pale.

The silent gasps ensued.

Alicent stood up and approached Ser Marrow. “Remove your cloak and sword; you are hereby exiled from Westeros and reside at the Wall.”

Ser Marrow snorted without batting an eye on Alicent. “I don’t take orders from an ugly, vicious cunt.”

Alicent withstood her ground. “I won’t ask again, Ser Marrow.”

Anger blazing, Aemond make haste outside of the secret passage to enter the room, but Aegon hauled him back.

“Release me, brother. I have no time to indulge with your silly antics,” Aemond warned.

Aegon clutched Aemond’s arm tighter. “You’ll get in trouble. In more ways than one,” he warned back.

“Since when do you give a shit about your younger brother other than your wine and whores?” Aemond yanked his arm off from Aegon and entered the scene without noticing him; everyone is too focused that they’re unaware of Aemond’s presence hidden behind the thick pillar, his sword in hand, with his watchful eye, he was waiting for a moment to strike.

~Your POV~

Clutching your stomach as you were urging not to cough more blood. Behind you, the shadow overcast the ground, revealing Rhaenyrs Velaryon offered you a comforting smile and hands on your shoulders, though appearing more apologetic and saddening.

“Ser Criston, take Ser Marrow and escort him outside the Red Keep at once,” Alicent demanded in a low tone.

Ser Marrow shoved Criston back; Criston held his sword on his throat as the other guards in the room held their swords directly in front of Criston and Marrow.

“I will take no part in this charade,” Ser Marrow replied.

“Stand down now, good sir,” Criston said. “And walk away from the Red Keep.”

Ser Marrow. “This is your doing, Criston! If you haven’t brought that bitch here in the Red Keep, I would’ve still be part of the Kingsguard!”

“This is your own choosing to beat Lady (y/n),” Criston responded, apathetic.

“If only the monster hadn’t save the Rhaenyra’s bastard son, the succession to the Iron Throne would be secured. But he’s no son of the late Prince Laenor”—chuckled—“no, rather both monsters brought great ruination.”

For once, you’re glad Jace isn’t here.

“Fuck you,” you choked, blood spattered. “Admit it, you couldn’t handle a woman who bested you.”

Ser Marrow’s mouth clenched so tight, veins protruding from his neck. “You vile, insolent de—”

All the guards’s swords lowered, except for one blade tip kissed on Marrow’s neck with a pointed end. “A war hasn’t even begun and you’ve beaten a young maiden. Do you really think that have you a chance of walking out alive,” a voice said. “I dare you to say the word “demon” again, Ser Marrow.”

All their eyes turned to Aemond, who was looking down, gazing at you.

Though your eyes nearly dwindled, you heart beat pounded against the cage in your chest at the sight of him.

“Aemond, what are you doing here?” Alicent asked, rushing to his side, tugging the upper sleeve of his leathered jacket.

“I was only here to defend her,” Aemond answered with a droned hum. “After all, she saved my dear sister,” Aemond said coolly without averting gaze away from Ser Marrow, though given the exception of looking towards you ever so benign.

“Get back out in the hall, Aemond. This is no fight of yours; Ser Marrow must stand down and leave from the Red Keep,” Alicent said, frantic.

But Aemond ignored her, deepened the blade. “If you touch her again, there will be war.”

Everyone held their breath as they watch Aemond, his cautions ingrained into their minds.

“Aemond,” Alicent hissed, nudging him.

Aemond lowered his blade, and as soon as he did, Ser Marrow rushed towards you with his fist high up, but the sword cleaved Marrow’s head into two, leaving the guards already held their swords to disarm Aemond, as the table clanged loud; one guard bled from his head; Aegon slammed the guard down from trying to stab Aemond on his blind side, and held a short sword; the blade’s tip scraped the guard’s cheek.

“I wouldn’t do it again if I were you,” Aegon said to the guard and caught sight of you with a faint smirk on his wine-stained lips.

Prince Daemon lazily made his way to the crowd to retrieve Rhaenyra as the guards collected Ser Marrow’s body. But before that, Aemond said, “Feed Ser Marrow’s corpse to Vhagar. His service is no longer needed.”

Spectators stared in awe at the sudden events; not one utter a word of objection or sputter disagreement with the one-eyed dragon prince, as Aemond swept his sword clean with a cloth, not sparing a glance to anyone.

Once he sheathed his sword, Aemond advanced towards you and lifted you up, leaving everyone staggered at his proclamation for you.

Taglist: @galactict3a @toodlesxcuddles @daonenonlysandman @hufflepuff1700 @me753 @fredskum @danika1994 @colored-tr-panels @valeskafics

@ aemondswifffeeeyyy - all rights reserved

[aegoniiwifey]

Anon who requested the chubbydaddy!aegon and his daughter <3 you did my request justice and way more I'm obsessed- I literally reread it like ten times I love it. Also another chubbydaddy!aegon request: Aegon getting requests to court/ wed his precious girl, and he ignores them all, ignores what the Small Council wants, etc and goes to her after a long day, letting her ride his belly, then breeding, then cumplay, and whatever your genius mind comes up with <3

Wanna Be Yours

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,944.

WARNINGS: incest, swearing, angst, breeding kink, praise kink, stomach riding, cum play, titty sucking, p in v sexual intercourse. indented parts are previous scenes.

A/N - I am so so sorry for responding so late, I took a little hiatus with tumblr and am starting to find my rhythm again. I absolutely adore this trope and your ideas. so happy you enjoyed the first piece, it was an absolute privilege to write! hope this is just what you imagined also xx

Apologies I have not reread this as I finished work and my eyes are about to shut! will proof read tomorrow ♥️

credit to my beloved BOOBIE @bnb-atnite for making this godly image of my man CHUBBY! ilysm!

"Your Grace, it is highly frowned upon by the Seven that you wed your daughter! We have given many exceptions to your ancestors for upholding their queer customs, but this- This arrangement we do not condone!"

Aegon's deep exhale as his eyes darkly snapped towards the elderly maester, was enough to silence the room with his palpable vehemence. He was beyond tired and irritated by the constant nagging of his esteemed Council, of their blatant disapproval of their King's intentions to wed his beloved... His only surviving blood, his daughter.

Throughout the war, Aegon had grown insatiably protective of you: in addition to having a special place in his heart as his eldest born, you remained the last remaining figure in his previous life, despite his mother and himself. As your grandmother silently fell into madness, in the privacy of her chambers, where she preferred to seclude herself, Aegon had no other person he soulfully cherished than you. And as he was to you, the feelings had become reciprocated. Your father loved you dearly: since becoming of age, a young, matured woman, his advances had grown more intimate and lubricious. You owed him your life, and wished nothing more than to devote yourself to him. No man could have done what he did for you...

"It is done, Maester Orwyle... I will wed my daughter in the ancient traditions of our House, if it be the last damned thing I do. I am the fucking King!" Aegon loudly asserted, slamming his pudgy hand against the solid, wooden tabletop, as his words simmered the Council into a fright.

Aegon was known for his temper, although it took a great deal for him to raise his voice: he was a stubborn man at that, also...

"My dearest, what is it? What have they done now that troubles you so, hmm?"

Aegon defeatedly relinquishes in the wooden rocking chair by the stoking fire: it’s orange-red tinged flames being the only source of light emitting in the room.

You walk up behind your father, his face stern and unmoving besides his closed eyes as his hand rubbed at his temples. Your hands find their way to his broad, thick shoulders, giving them a gentle massage as you knead the tension.

“So-So tense, my beloved. Tell me what is wrong, so that I may be of some help. Let me ease your mind, Daddy.”

Aegon’s shrugging shoulders said plentiful, as he opened his eyes once more, head turning slightly to its side so that you were in his peripheral vision.

“There is nothing to be sorted, my love. I am to wed you, and as their rightful King, it is my final word above all else. Those elderly cunts can yap all they want. I will have you.”

With his final word, a yearning flare brews between your thighs, aching for one particular thing. Your father always had a way with words, especially with you.

“Is that so?” You teasingly utter, as you straddle yourself comfortably on his lap. Your arms grip the overarching wooden frame of the chair as you swiftly lift yourself up, before plopping back down, although this time elevated by your father’s overgrown, rotund belly.

Your earliest, core memories of your father had always been admiring him at feasts and family dinners. He never denied himself a hearty meal, and his grand appetite never ceased during the war. Inevitably, as the years went by and his youth disappeared the weight remained and latched on with each mouthful. The intimate moments your attention would linger onto him, as he savoured each bite, the way he'd unashamedly lick the grease and crumbs off his chubby fingers, even off the rings that had fit him a time before... Now that he had sized up immensely, most treasures and clothes that he had worn, he had rapidly outgrown. None of his rings could go beyond the tips of his fingers, and he was in great denial about it, refusing to resize until you had convinced him otherwise. The way he had often rubbed his aching, bloated belly: swollen beneath the restricting fabric, a somewhat elevated and satisfied look strewed across his handsome, fat face as he would pat himself proudly.

"But I want Daddy all to myself. I want Daddy to fight the whole realm for me, if he has to. Can Daddy do that for me?" You utter closely into his hear, your hot breath dense against his earlobe: after hastily hiking your skirt up [wearing nothing below, as you instinctively anticipated this precise moment], you unbuttoned his top garment, only to expose his rotund, plush belly. The handful of rolls engulfing his sides, the grip-able hips that accentuated his width, streaked with raw, red stretch marks all across his love handles and lower belly. His tits were double your size, nipples sensitive under your gentle touch, even a flick of his nipple was enough to make him moan. It made you flustered, the sheer sight in evidence of your father's blatant growth... And he had no shame in admitting it.

"Of course, baby. Anything for my sweet, little princess. Daddy would burn the entire realm if he has to for you... I'll repopulate the world with my princess, if needs be."

With each of his longing words, you pressed yourself down deeper, sinking your bare cunt further against his naked belly, causing him to whimper. His pudgy hands found their way beneath your layered gown, each palm rested atop your cheeks, firmly cupping and squeezing at your flesh.

"My princess knows just what to do, to make her Daddy happy, huh? My only joy in life, is you."

Your grinding rhythmic, the pace begins to quicken with excitement, as your throbbing cunt becomes moist, the wetness stirring and oozing beneath, against the warm friction. As your cum coats his smooth fat, slowly it becomes more tolerable.

"I-I just wanna make m-my Daddy proud- D-Daddy can s-say whatever, a-and I'll do as I'm t-told-"

"Is that so?" His mimicking voice, a deep growl wretched from his throat, as his hands find their strength, shoving you deeper against his swallowing frame. He always admired how tiny you appeared in comparison to him, how fragile it made you look. He rejoiced it was a symbol of how he could protect you, that he was your shelter.

"Daddy wants to fuck Princess senseless, all night long. Fill my Princess up with my hot, hot seed until I'm certain she takes. Daddy wants Princess to swell with his child, and show her off to the realm. That the babe kicking in her belly, is all his undoing, hmm."

"A-Anything for Daddy- Just f-fuck me, Aeg-"

Although it drove Aegon wild to hear you mindlessly moan and whisper Daddy, something in particular, whenever you called him by his name, would often trigger something more insatiable in him. He could devour you in the spot, like some afternoon tea honey cake, whenever you spoke of his true name.

"Undo my pants-" Immediately without sparing a thought more, you obeyed. As Aegon's plump belly expanded over his thick, wide lap, his portly fat pad beneath had somewhat engulfed his cock. It made it difficult for him to even try to locate or masturbate himself. For now, you had both learnt tricks to overcome the obstacle, having your father lean in a certain angle, as you put in the effort to locate his fat, hard cock, plunging it deep between your walls.

As he tried to reposition himself with great difficulty, in the faint space left remaining in the seat with you atop: breathless by the end of all the moving, you managed to pluck out his cock. The sheer sight and tension beneath your gentle stroking grip, its reddened, blush tip oozing with a sheer-white, translucent reside, palpating with excitement.

"Don't keep Daddy waiting, Princess. I need to feel your walls take my cock. Make you so fucking full of me, I'll make you a human waterfall."

The raw feeling of his cock between your inner walls, clenching to adjust to its girthy, solid size: although it could no longer delve as deep as it used to, the friction of his fat pad against your clit, and the pressure of his mass against your lower stomach, made it invigorating nonetheless.

"Th-That's it, Princess. S-So tight for me. All fucking mine, and the w-whole world will know it-"

"Y-Yes, Daddy-"

"If I need to fuck you with the eyes of the Court watching, I will."

As means to muffle your moans and loud pleas for Aegon, bashfully mindful of the servants and Kingsguard stationed beyond the inches of the door outside, your mouth latched onto Aegon's porky tits.

Suckling at his tender flesh, as your tongue licked at his nipple, causing him to wince and growl in eager approval, one hand left your ass cheek, gripping close your bucking hips, and found its way snaking behind your back, before pulling at your loose hair.

Tightly tugging at the free strands, mottling between his pudgy fingers, he once more, gave gentle encouragement, shoving your face down deeper against his tubby chest.

"F-Fuck Y/N. S-So impressed by Daddy, huh, Princess? You keep going at this rate, I'll be making my own damn milk for you and the babes."

Noticing the glistening residue of your cum spilled across his rolls and paunchy stomach, his other hand cleaned the mess up over with his bare hand. Before hungrily licking off your wetness with his tongue, licking his hand clean free.

"Delicious."

With his heavy, dense weight keeping him pinned down against the chair, he made no effort to thrust himself inside as he once jovially could. Alternatively, the chair swayed with his potent motions, as he would subtly buck his ample hips forward into your frame.

"My sweet, beautiful girl is gonna cum already. I can feel you swallow my cock whole, your walls suffocating my cock. Take me, princess, take it all-"

With the finish of his words, signalling his epitome, Aegon shot his hot, fresh seed into you: warmly coating your inner walls, as your own wetness gushed over his eager, hard cock. Catching a minute to regain your breaths and thoughtless mind, you lifted yourself off, and instantly the mess began to pool across your inner thighs.

Almost on cue or from impressive instinct, Aegon began to scoop at your inner thighs, sensitive from his touch, its abrupt presence startled you.

"Did I not teach you about letting things go to waste, baby? Never let this out. This is as precious as Valyrian steel. I ought to keep you plugged up with my cock..."

The tips of his fat fingers tease at the entrance of your folds, softly tracing over your stained, painful walls: impressed with your sudden shiver and moan, his deep chuckle left you feeling reminiscent of your first time. How nervous you felt, inexperienced against your father's wit.

"I-I want this to take. I want to have as many babes as the Gods see fit with you, Aeg... I want to swell healthily with child, and give you the heir you want... As many as you desire-"

As one fo your hands remained nestled against his chest, tracing soft, random lines against the crevices of his rolls: the other travelled its way to his face, pushing aside a random strand of hair, away from his handsome, fuller face.

"I want our sons to be the spitting image of their father, and our daughter's kind like their grandmother... Will Daddy fuck me day and night, to make my wish come true, hmm?"

"Of course..."

credit for dividers - @/valeskafics

[suckerforlovesblog]

Pretty little thing

Pretty litte thing Masterlist

Series summary: All Mr. Shelby wanted was to remarry. He had to find himself another wife after the death of Grace, not just to take care of his son Charlie but also to gr Pretty little thing

Series summary: All Mr. Shelby wanted was to remarry. He had to find himself another wife after the death of Grace, not just to take care of his son Charlie but also to grant him access to the finer society of Birmingham. All he wanted the girl to be was a pretty little thing on his arm who simply submitted, obeyed and followed his orders.

And he did find the perfect girl - young, very good looking, of a good upbringing, smart but little did he expect her to have such a strong mind of her own…

All he wanted to do was break her in, like a horse had to be, and his new wife put up a good fight but eventually he is sure, he will break her and make her his completely.

Series warning: Dark!Tommy, toxic relationship, abuse, rape, non consensual intercourse, rough sex, age gap, Sir kink, choking - all the things that come with rough smut

Chapter 3: The wedding

Summary: Y/N officially becomes Mrs. Shelby.

Chapter Warning: language, drug abuse, unprotected sex, p in v, non consensual, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, choking, praising, body fluids, cockwarming

Word count: 3.2k

~ tag list: @ncoleys , @amberpanda99 , @priyajoyy , @tommyshelbywhore , @swordofawriter @goth-cowgirl-03 @thenattitude @sheun-555 @meetmeatyourworst @bruher @frazie99 @blvebanisters @jessimay98 @cherrysugarx ~

End of August 1926

Thomas wanted the wedding to be perfect, the dress, the ceremony and the dinner afterwards. The latter was of course a business move and the invited people where carefully chosen.

After the engagement party the contact between Mr. Shelby and his fiancé was rare because he was occupied with business. But he did make it a pattern of visiting her every Sunday. They went riding, to a Derby, to London to visit his sister Ada and he usually took her to any public event he was attending. On the outside he wanted them to look like they’re very happy and in love with each other. Thomas made clear how he wanted his future wife to behave and any time a border was crossed, Y/N soon deeply regretted it because he had a dark side. And this side Y/N was really scared of. His eyes would turn black and he would usually push her into a wall, his hand around her delicate neck, threatening to do bad things to her or even worse her parents. Otherwise he never laid a hand on her and he deeply enjoyed seeing her scared. Thomas also really liked her apologies: On her knees with an open mouth, looking up at him through her lashes, his hands in her hair.

Y/N was a quick learner. She soon realized that Thomas’ temper was uncontrollable and unpredictable because it would change within seconds. Anyways she was on his arm, always smiled nicely and only spoke when being talked to. She also never had the guts to confront him about his behavior but really hoped it would change, as soon as they got married and he let some feelings in.

Leading up to the event which he sat the date for on the 25th of August, they spent less time together which Y/N wasn’t all to sad about. Thomas did come by to give her the engagement ring, a small golden band with pearl on top made to be followed up by a wedding ring. He also sent her flowers every week.

On the other hand she got to spend some time with his sister Ada and his aunt Polly. Y/N also came to the betting shop to meet the rest of his family for a so-called family meeting: Thomas’ brother Arthur was there with his wife Linda, Ada and Polly were there, as well as her son Michael Gray, Thomas’ younger brother Finn, his uncle Charlie and Curly, who Y/N really liked, as well as Jeremiah and his son Isaiah, Johnny Dogs and Thomas’ secretary Lizzie, who didn’t seem to like Y/N very much.

Thomas led her into his office afterwards, taking her hand ins his and pressing a kiss to her temple which confused Y/N. Confusion was the state of mind she was in the most: Thomas could be very sweet on one hand and extremely gruesome on the other. He offered her a seat and a whiskey, which she gladly accepted while he took out his cigarette case, taking one out and putting it between his lips in Thomas Shelby manner, pushing it around and then settling it on the left side of his face. The conversation was short but Thomas only explained some small details to her and then told her the date he set for the wedding. He afterwards followed her out of his office and to his car, his arm around her waist. The couple went out for afternoon tea and Thomas drove her home with his new Bentley afterwards.

Y/N and Ada went to the tailor together, to get the dress that Thomas had picked out for the wedding fitted. Ada gasped when she saw it because it was simply beautiful. A slim white dress with a longer train and lace detailing all around the neckline and the short sleeves. The depth of the neckline was a little deeper than Y/N would have picked for herself but it looked fantastic on her. Thomas also wanted her to wear white satin gloves and the veil would be satin as well, with some minimal lace details at the hem. “You look stunning!”, Ada said, “who would have thought that Thomas had so much style?” She chuckled while you stood in the middle of the room, the seamstress running around pinning the dress down to make it fit even more snug. Thomas’ and his brothers suits would be made by your parents and you were really grateful that he fulfilled his promise of only getting his suits there from now on.

All this went through Y/N’s head, when Ada and Polly came to pick her up for her weddings ceremony. Ada brought along a beautiful necklace which of course Thomas had picked out for her as well. Ironically the pendant was a “T”, meaning that Y/N would utterly and completely belong to Mr. Shelby before the day was over. Y/N got into the car and Polly drove them towards Watery Lane where Y/N got into her stockings and into the beautiful dress, Ada put the veil into her hair that was pinned back into a loose low bun with some pieces framing her face. Thomas’ sister also put the necklace around her neck and some make up on her face: mascara, some rouge and a red lipstick. “You look stunning”, she said. Polly came with three glasses off champagne and kissed Y/N forehead, feeling the uneasiness beaming off of her: “Would you like some snow to calm your nerves?” The bride to be simply nodded and snorted the line, as soon as it was done. She did not feel different at first but sometime later her thoughts were calm and she smiled drunkenly. “Much better”, she smiled at Polly, picking up her bouquet and getting into the car to be driven towards the church.

When the wedding march was played, the cocaine still calmed her nerves and made her smile. Her farther walked her down the aisle towards Mr. Thomas Shelby standing at the end of it. He wore a navy black suit with a white button up and a dark fly, Y/N had to admit that he looked incredibly handsome. The only thing bothering her was his evil smile. He took her hand from her farther’s who helped her up the pedestal. Now standing across from Tommy the music slowly ended, he lifted the veil and Jeremiah started the ceremony. Y/N was still high and she knew that Thomas knew who would be mad later. She didn’t listen to anything that was said and just looked into his icy blue eyes, they were like two frozen over lakes in the middle of winter, and wondered if he could ever love her, just a little bit. The loud “Yes” Thomas said snapped Y/N back into reality and at the appropriate moment she also said “Yes, I do.” Her now husband then swept her down and kissed her. Somehow his lips felt good on her. They were full and pink and full of neediness. His tongue brushed against her lip and she opened her mouth for him, his hands on her cheeks, pulling her closer. After he broke the kiss, he pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead and the came with his mouth to her ear: “Behave, little one.” This might have seemed like a loving gesture for the people watching but Y/N knew it was a thread. He put another ring onto her left finger to officially claim you. It complimented the engagement ring very well. Thomas Shelby was a man of style.

The two newlyweds left the church hand in hand getting into his Bentley and driving off towards Arrow House, which was now Y/N home as well, the guests following after a some Canapés and champagne.

Arriving at the House Thomas wasted no time, pulling her inside and into a side room. He immediately pressed her against the wooden door, pushing himself on her. She couldn’t move because his body was pressed against hers, one hand on her left cheek, the other on her hip. His face came closer to hers: “Darling, you can’t imagine how I have dreamt of this moment ever since you so obediently sucked me off.” She swallowed and then his lips came crushing onto hers. She felt dizzy and safe, not sure whether it was the drugs or not but she willingly gave herself to him. Y/N was quite sure that she wouldn’t have done this sober because she was scared shitless of him. The hand from her waist came up to her breasts and Thomas moaned into the kiss: “We gotta be quick and shouldn’t ruin your hair or make up.” He then flipped her around and pushed her towards the desk, pressing her down on the hard wood. Y/N tried to maneuver around but he held her down, pressing his growing bulge into her backside. “You drive me crazy, eh love?”, he whispered into her ear as he leaned down to kiss her exposed neck. While he went rough on her neck, his hands trailed to her butt, squeezing it and then gathering her dress and pushing it upwards. “Don’t move”, he said whilst opening his own pants. She looked back at the man who was about to take her maiden hood, right as his erection sprung free, she noticed how big he is. He chuckled, seeing her face: “Are you worried, eh? I am sure you will manage just fine.” His hand then went around his length, pumping it a couple of times. The other hand found his way to her stockings and even further up her lacy underwear. He simply pushed it to the side and then toyed with something between her legs. She didn’t know what it was but it send shockwaves through her body, Thomas sure felt and saw her reaction, smirking: “I said you would like it, love.” He then spit into his hand and spread it over his erection, the tip leaking with pre cum. Positioning him between her legs, he put the tip between her folds, slowly moving up and down. Y/N felt as if she wasn’t present, as if she only lived through this moment out of her body. Thomas hips snapped forward and into her, making her scream in pain because he was everything but gentle. Giving her a second only to adjust, he pulled out all the way and then back into her, all the way this time. He had to push harder this time, to break her maiden head and he heard her scream. One of his hands came to her mouth, covering it. “Be quit!”, he demanded. It was hard for him to hold back his moans because the thought of breaking her, shaping her made him even harder if that was even possible. She was wet as well but he didn’t care if she enjoyed tonight. This night was all about him: Finding another wife, finding another mother figure for his son, finding the pretty little thing on his arm for business. His hips snapped up harder, he was now balls deep into her, finding a steady rhythm, fucking her without her explicit consent. Since they were now married it wasn’t illegal and he had to blow off the steam about her being high on their wedding day. All of this made him fuck her faster, both of his hands now on her hips rutting into her relentlessly whilst his wife cried silent tears and was helpless. He knew it was cruel but to get her they way he wanted Y/N, mindless and controllable and never speaking back, he had to teach her some lessons. Starting with him showing off who was the dominant one in their relationship.

He erupted with a loud moan and came undone in her. “Might fuck a baby into you tonight. Then you will be a loving and caring mother for my pup!”, he whispered in her ear.

As soon as he came down from his high, he pulled out of her and used his handkerchief to clean himself off before tucking himself back into his dress pants. He adjusted his suspenders and button up until he looked presentable. Thomas then helped Y/N who already got off the table clean herself. He kissed her whispering praises into her mouth but she only felt hazy and confused. A maid was called who helped her readjust his wife’s outfit and her clothing. “Since you seem to like snow, here is a line for you, darling.”, Thomas said looking at his pretty little wife after preparing a line for her. Without any reply, she got down in front of him taking a sniff and the line disappeared. Thomas smiled and caressed her cheek: “Good girl.” Y/N wasn’t scared of him anymore, not when he caressed and care for her, she was and would never be scarred of Thomas when she was high. Her husband knew that and used it to his advantage, drugging her whenever things got rough.

The rest of the night was a blur of happiness and heightened emotions. Y/N played in the snow two more times this evening and was dancing happily while being watched by Thomas. Their last dance was very romantic, a slow Waltz. They looked into each other eyes the whole time and Y/N could feel an attachment towards him forming. She really appreciated when he was soft and likable rather than him being harsh and mean when he did business.

Thomas then took her upstairs into their master bedroom. Y/N didn’t know it was the bedroom he had once shared with Grace, his only love and was too scared to ask him. He picked her up and carried her over the doorstep, her face close to his with her arms around his neck. When he let her down she looked up into his cold eyes and then pressed her lips on his. He grinned into the kiss, soon taking dominance and guiding her backwards until her calves hit the bed frame and she fell backwards. Thomas climbed on top off her, holding his weight off er delicate body. He couldn’t wait to rip the dress of her body and fuck her once again. Their kiss got more passionate and he did really enjoy it. She bit onto bis lip slightly and he took the invitation, sneaking his tongue into her mouth. Since she seemed to enjoy herself, his kisses wandered to her neck, leaving open mouthed kisses, licking down her throat until he reached the neckline of her dress. Her rapid breathing only ignited the fire in him even more. Y/N hands went to Thomas’ waistcoat, opening it and then brushing her hands against his torso. He gave her room to explore whilst kissing her neck back up to her ear. When her hands pushed his suspenders down and started to unbutton his white dress shirt, he whispered into it: “You’re mine now.” It sounded like a threat and a promise at the same time.

Y/N knew that no one would ever lay a hand on her or do her harm unless it was her own husband who lashed out. He found the spot, right underneath her ear, that made her tummy light on fire and kissed and sucked and blew air onto it which only made her moans and forget all the intrusive thoughts. She fidgeted with the buttons and he soon grew impatient so he quickly rid himself off the expensive dress-shirt. Her hands rummaged his lean but toned upper body and his found their way under her skirt once again. Soon her hands were in his hair and his were in her lace panties. This time he ripped them apart, pushing the skirt of the wedding dress up around her waist. His hands exploring her legs and finding their way up to the center. She tried to close them due to the exposure to the cold air but he stopped hair, kissing down to her cleavage and then further down until he reached her uncovered crotch. Kissing his way from her thighs up to her middle, Tommy knew he drove her crazy. He blew air on her clit and she hissed, sucking in the air when his tongue touched the sensitive bundle of nerves. Thomas started sucking and licking up between her folds, sticking his tongue into her entrance. His wife, that was never touched by another man before today, started to moan softly. He heard his name more than once and decided it was time to put a finger into her whilst eating her out. Her hands messing with his hair, moaning she felt a warmth build up in her stomach. Thomas felt her walls flutter around his finger, so he huskily said: “You like that sweetheart. I want an answer.” “I.. I do Thomas.”, she stuttered. Whilst continuing to eat her out he said: “I am the only man who can pleasure you like this. Keep it in mind sweetheart. I am the best to ever happened to you.” Simply moaning a “Yes, Tommy. Fuck”, she came around his finger and onto his tongue. He helped her ride out her high and then quickly undid his pants, positioning his already hard member right between her folds. He spit onto his dick and then entered her, leaving her no time to adjust to him this time because he started taking her in a brutal rhythm. His hand came to her neck, sneaking around the delicate pressure points, pushing down and controlling her breath. Y/N knew she was completely at his mercy and belonged to him in every way possible. “Please”, she hissed. “What?”, he inquired, “please what?” “M.. more”, she tried to say but was cut short by him lifting her legs and putting them around his waist, deepening the angle and pushing into her more deeply, groaning at the new sensation. His wife also moaned. “You’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”, he said, whilst pulling out and pushing into her repeatedly, “such a beautiful little slut”. Her moan to his comment nearly made him burst into her but he steadied his breath and the hand from her waist came to her clit once again, drawing circles. Still overstimulated from before he felt her walls clutter again and after continuing for a bit he felt her cum around his dick. “You’re so perfect, love”, he moaned and buried his cock deep inside off her spilling his seed. “Maybe, I fucked a baby into you tonight.”, he chuckled and stayed inside of her for a bit. He searched for his cigarette, moving the one he too out between his lips and then lit it. His little wife was still in another universe, so after finishing the smoke, he pulled out of her, stepping out of his pants and undoing his shoes. He then went to clean himself up, coming back to Y/N sleeping. He undressed her and slid into bed next to her. Thomas last thought before falling asleep was: “I hope she keeps using snow because this is perfect.

[cherubispunk]

CHERUB (PART I) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: your uncle can’t pay for his weed, joel finds another form of payment.

a note from Lucy: SHEEE'S BAAACK! im sorry but someone had to do it. I took it into my own hands. Hate myself...but I love this. When fleabag said ‘I am a bad feminist’>>>.

playlist | alternate banner by THE cherub @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

wc: 3377 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! no outbreak (but Sarah still dies sorry), no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, porn with little plot, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Joel is in his late 50s), Smut, dubcon, P in V sex (unprotected), Creampie, Cumplay, dom!Joel sub!reader dynamic, sex as payment for drugs, allusions to oral - m receiving, Fingering, ever so slight assplay, Choking, gagging (not on his d tho *sigh*), panty sniffing and stealing, Light Spanking, mentions of using drugs such as weed, alcohol consumption, Smoking, use of pet names (baby, cherub, angel, good girl...etc), Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, spitting, spit play. Some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile porn I have written thus far...with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

It was no delicate whisper, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt. 

He had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper.

He did not belong there.

He would not belong there. You’d not give him closure to live and breathe in intimate parts of your anatomy. The only place he would be from now on was between your legs. And maybe in your bed until the wee hours of the dry morning. 

That is where you would let him sit.

That is where he would stay. 

You hate him. You hate his face. You hate his voice. Hate his fucking temper. But worst of all— the cataclysmic catalyst in your small world of four bedroom walls—you hate how you don’t hate him at all. Not really. Your heart wouldn’t let you. It would break your own ribs clean in two to lurch from your flayed chest and into his palms. If only he’d open them. 

Joel Miller gnashed you between his teeth to let you splatter past his lips on the sun cracked dirt. He circled you like a wild cat. His pretty gazelle. Graceful, light on her feet. You felt the splintering distraction of him in the base of your skull. Dull and aching. Still there to rot into earth.

You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. 

Distraught with him, you contemplated desertion. Something akin to treason for his tyranny. Cowardice churning at your gut. The pleasure you would draw from the curling scowl of his coarse brows. The thin line you’d make of his lips and dark mist of hickory that would cloud his eye and better judgement. 

But then what? You soon learned  that if it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. Joel Miller was harrowing. 

Broken. Broken, broken, broken — Maimed, shattered, blistered to burst like waterlogged paint. He made you all, and nothing. Made you shrivel into your own shell at the phantom of his thought. Baring your teeth at the need to divulge in feeling deeper than satiation. 

—

You’d cycled back home, hair damp and lank with rare Austin rain. Slow circles of the pedals around a pivot, swerving gently from one side of the empty road to the other. Eyes ahead of you. It was like you were floating in a daze under the yellow saturation of the streetlamps. Past shabby housing estates back to the trailer park you called home. Tips from tonight tucked into the pocket of your apron, ready to be stored under the mattress in the moth bitten pillowcase. Ready to find your flight out of this town. 

You skidded to a halt in the pebble speckled dirt outside your trailer, brakes squealing in protest. Standing to lock up your bike to the railing by your uncles beat up, busted down truck. A heavy thunder cracked above, a swollen storm cloud rolling in to send the summer out on its departure with a bang. September was here. And the air smelled acidic with the promise of downpour. 

Glancing at the trailer next door, you came to realise your neighbour was in. Lights on, music rattling aluminium walls of his shabby home. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him as he caught your eye in his window. Watching, thumb swiping over his lower lip as he eyed you in your uniform. A stupid yellow dress and pinafore, scuffed mary janes, frilly white socks. Ketchup stains. Doe eyes glued to him, you saw a swallow pass down the thick column of his throat. His deep hickory eyes were dark black in this light, pupils blown to devour the colour.  

Before the heat licking up your cheeks could pull to your centre, you moved one foot in front of the other, crashing through the door. The TV was on, a barbaric film of screams drowned out the thunder outside, rattling in your ears. Jarring? No. The regular. Your uncle, ever the washed up cop out he was, was on his fifth beer, no doubt would send a nightcap of whiskey down his throat before lugging himself off to bed. The bottle hung limp in his drunken hand, loosely dangled over the armrest of the leather couch.

He did not spare you a glance. 

“I’m home.” You called out to him, waving out a hand in his direction. His sunken stoner eyes didn't drift from the box television in front of him. Merely garbled grunt, followed by a beer burp passed his lips. You sighed through your nose, teeth set on edge. “You had dinner?” 

Another grunt. One you took as ‘the fuck do you think?’

You sighed, “Okay, i’ll throw somethin’ in the oven, yeah?” This time he did not spare an answer. 

You took it as a blessing. Could have been worse. He could have struck you for being late, taking on overtime for Dee, the young mother who worked alongside you on friday evenings. You needed the money. Uncle Luke got laid off last month, turning up to the impound lot drunk, reeking of hard liquor and staggering around machinery. 

So you left it at that, disappeared to hide your money, counting out the bills into piles of ten. Just shy of ninety six dollars. All gathered and stuffed under your mattress. Next was dinner. Nothing much in the fridge, a box of frostbitten waffle fries, out of date in the back of the freezer. Or leftover pizza from the night before. Why not both. ‘Have a feast!’ you humoured yourself dryly. 

It was an hour or so later into the evening when your uncle finally spoke up, empty plate resting on his beer belly, another belch to punctuate the first words he said to you all evening.

“Do me a favour and drop by Joel's will ya, doll?” You sat up, looking at him from the lazyboy seat you perched in, feet kicking down from the coffee table. 

“Joel’s? Why?” He looked over to see your brow furrowed in question. 

“Usual dealer is outta town. Joel’s hookin’ me up with some in the meantime.” 

“Come on,” You sighed, tilting your head at him the way a parent would do with a child in pity, “I thought you were clean.”

“It’s just weed.” He snapped, voice gruff in his thick drawl, slurred. “Aint gonna fuckin’ kill me. But you might. Expensive brat.” 

The thought flickered across your mind to argue. Fight back. Tell him you were fighting tooth and nail for the rent due next month. But the bruise of his handprint and the simmering burn of his slap to your face the night before stopped your words dry in your throat. 

“Fine.” You sighed. 

And so, with heavy feet and a grudge in your tight chest, you ambled on over to the next door, knuckles rapping on his door three times quickly. 

Joel Miller opened the door with a puff of air out his nose, cigarette hanging loose from his lips. A barrel chested man in a tight wife beater and low slung dirty jeans, brow set in stone. The corner of his lip curled into a sneer of a smirk, taking no shame in the fact he was eyeing you head to toe. The devil down smirk. It made something disgusting tug at your insides, pool deeper in the thick of tension. 

“What can I do for you?” He asked in a drawl, crossing great oaks of arms over his chest. The neck of his tank let tease a smattering of salt and pepper hair over the top of his chest. Bristly, wiry. You ignored the urge to feel it catch in your nails. Do the same with the scruff, scant over his jaw. The same gradient. Just as coarse. 

“Um,” You eyes dropped from their ogling to the step your feet were planted on, head hung with them, “Uncle Luke said you had somethin’ for ‘im.” You mumbled after clearing your throat. 

“I do.” He nodded, pinching his cig between his thick thumb and forefinger, taking a drag and parting it with his lips. He squinted as he exhaled, the stench of the cigarette catching bitter in your nose. “He sent you over here to get it? A sweet lil’ thing like you.” 

You nodded hesitantly, still not daring to look at the man in front of you. Above you. He chuckled inwardly at your display of subservience, cock twitching behind the zipper and denim of his jeans. “Look’t ya.” He mused, tossing his dying cigarette onto the gravel, hooking his tobacco stained fingers under your chin to lift it. While your head tilted up at his touch, your eyes strained to stay on the floor. He watched as the stretch of your neck struggled to accommodate a nervous swallow, skin rippling deliciously under his hold. “Lil’ angel aint ya?” He thumbed your head to the side, eyes relishing in the sight of more skin, the wash of yellow light over your profile. “A Cherub.”  Cherub. That’s what he named you. His little Cherub who was defiled and taken in a heated, frantic assembly of limbs. Pulled to fire at hell's mouth. Joel Miller's mouth.

Still you looked down. “Look at me, Cherub.” And with a heavy sigh you did. That was what was so easy about Joel. It took nothing to obey. Nothing to give in and keel over at his side. “That's better.” He mumbled under his breath, watching the rise of your chest. You could feel the pert tips of your breasts pebble at the meeting of his eyes, mixed with his touch. How delicate it was now. How deranged it would be later. “Come on in…Cherub.” He practically crooned the pet name, stepping aside. 

You passed the threshold, a mistake for the best and words parts of you. Because stepping across that line was the damning event in your experience of Joel Miller. Pandora’s box had been opened, left to decay in the woods somewhere as evil poured guilt free from it.

He rummaged around for a second, pulling a clear plastic ziplock bag from a duffel in the corner, dangling it in front of your face. A dirt green, clustered in form. You reached to take it, but he snatched it back with a cruel smile, making the walls of your stomach curl in dread, jaw clamp shut. 

“Luke’s gotta pay up, first. He give you money for me?” You shook your head. His eyes clouded darker.  “No?” He raised an amused brow, “How you gonna pay for it, Cherub?” 

You're stumped. “I– I…” Your voice died in your throat. But Joel can seemingly peer inside you to your own mind, part it like a page of a book or your own legs. 

“I don’t want your money, baby.” 

“Woulda been mine, anyway.” You sigh. And he narrows his eyes at you, tutting in disappointment. 

“I can think ’f one thing that’ll make it up to me.”

And that's how you ended up here. His thick, intruding fingers hooking into your mouth, unhinging your jaw as he speared you on his cock. Everything about him was larger than life. Even the way he breathed was domineering. Fucking you with flared nostrils that gave way to a billowing a breath. The other hand at your neck, revelling at the feeling of your pulse hammering under his splayed palm. Worming your way though cracks in his thick ribs while took you.

He had folded you in half, pressed the knobbles of your knees up to the sides of your head as tears ran thick, hot and slow down your temples. He made it hurt. But you loved it. Needed him to evaporate into air so you inhale him. Devour him. 

He grunted, watching in furrowed brow amusement while his thumb pressed into the soft flesh under your jaw, middle and forefinger coated in your slick form earlier and now your own saliva. 

It was a primal image. One some may find disgusting. To see him bent over you and ravaging your cunt raw. Bleeding you dry of a semblance of sanity. It was so easy when the tip of his hot, angry cock nipped at the mouth of your cervix with vigour like that. His hand is at your throat, pressing a purple bruise into your flesh over the old one made by another man. For you to marvel at later when he once again staggers from bed to refresh himself with a cool beer, clutching the ache that curled at the base of his spine. 

In his eyes, you needed a big god. A man to keep you to yourself. Never have you stray. Ground you with the slamming of his pelvis into your hips. Legs parted for him to eye the very core of you. The seam he would part with two fingers, hot, needly, wet for him. Aching and pinching and shuddering around his digits, tongue, dick. Letting him invade you like the good girl he told you you were, crooning into your ear with hot damp breaths. 

Joel dredged up an ache of humanity in you that felt numb so long before. Lay dormant in the chasm of your stomach. Swallowed like a peach pit to choke on later. After the sin had dried like the sweat on your skin.

“Fucking easy, ain’t ya, Cherub.” He would say as he penetrated your walls, invaded your mouth with his fingers. His lips draw open mouthed, wet kisses to the delicate column of your throat, down the bone between your breasts. Then he leans back, watching intently as his hips slow to grind, dragging the slick of your walls to drench the base of his cock. Ready for you to take down your throat later if he wished to meld you into that position. A hand let free the grip on your throat, instead watched with fascination as he slapped your tit, took the swell of it in his palm, cupping it, tugging at your pearled nipple. “Gonna take all of it for me, Cherub.” 

You garbled out a yes, a cry of submission to him. Before, Joel never felt the acidic aftertaste of guilt for being selfish. Since he lost Sarah, he took it upon himself to have what he wanted and when he wanted it, without a damn for the rest of humanity.

The only time he felt a shred of remorse was when he stole you; Hid you away from the warm, nurturing touch of others' more loving, less brutal hands. But you were his Cherub. All that was pretty a beautiful and to be desired in the world.

With his lip between his teeth, his thumb swiped tight circles over your swollen clit, slick aiding him in the fluidity of his strokes, heavy balls drizzled in your arousal as they slap wetly against your ass. A nod and his fingers slip further into your mouth, opening your jaw wider to peer inside. A glob of his spit drooled past his lips, splattering thick and warm upon your clit. It slid down to your entrance, where he punctures moans out of you, shaft stretching you, fucking you out, and thrusting with the intent to break you. You can feel the curve of it, the vein that runs steady on the underside of it. Heavy, full. You remember the slap it sounded out when you reached to pull it free. Before he parted your legs wide and sheathed himself in your pussy with one swift wane of his hips.

Joel smiles when you sob and break down for him, pull back a layer for him to slip into you. The walls of you drag him down into a grounding. A centre of a universe. Gravity strong enough to implode, create dark matter, compress tightly into a black hole. The centre of his universe. 

“Does my baby want it?” He crooned, and you yelped a yes, strangled by his being. The scent of him clinging to you, your sex. It gnarled at your skin. Scratched marks into flesh. “Does she want to come for me?” 

You didn't have to nod, he made you with his grip on your jaw. It was going to be your answer anyway. “Want you to say it for me too, Cherub.” 

“Yea, Joel!” You yelp, voice shrill, and cracked like the callus on the heel of his hand. “Yes!” 

He grins, wicked and wrapped with the inter to tear you apart from the inside with the jackhammering of his cock inside you, The delicious, toe curling numbness of it inside you. 

“Come on, Cherub, sing f’me.” 

“Yes-” It's a shriek, a quick, frenzied shriek. One that filled the hollow of your chest and then deflated it. “Yes! Please, please, please- Please!” 

Your begging melts in his ears, the sight of eyes rolled back, mouth open for him. And he needs to feel, reaching between where the two of you join with your own hand. The base of his cock now between your middle and ring fingers, his length swiping your fingers in combined precum and slick as he bucks his hips violently. The headboard shakes and trembles beneath his frantic movement. And he presses the heel of your hand into your clit, having you seeing stars. Crying to the heavens you fell from. 

His little Cherub. Plush skin and plump curves for his teeth to sink into and mark his territory. Whenever he may please now. 

“Come.” 

And you do, screaming his name to him as a numb weight fills the pit of your core, has your pussy pulsing in waves, ebbs and flows. It sucks him deeper, a lew squelch gaining his attention when his lower abdomen and balls tighten. He lets out a strangled groan, filling you with one final push upon your cervix. 

It has you gasping for air, chest heaving when he looks down between you, the white sticky ooze of his come seeping from your walls, softening cock still sheathed inside of you. Not ready to pull from the warmth your cunt hugs him with. 

“That’s it, angel, down you come.” He coos, before sifting his hips, leaving you to whine as your gaping hole fluttered furiously around nothing.  

He stands, pulls his jeans on, fly still undone, belt buckle loose and clinking at his sides. He swipes your underwear from the scattering of your clothes over the musty carpet, bringing it to his nose to inhale. “Part of the payment.” He mumbles, not that you’re listening, mind still swimming in its pool of oxytocin. And he slips the lace into his jean pocket, baby pink peeking out from denim. 

“Better get back, Cherub.” Joel said plainly, fingers dancing over your used hole, as cum dribbles gluttonously from it, down your crack to your puckered asshole. He thumbs it gently and you squeal, squirming away. His hand clamps down upon your thigh, dragging you back down the mattress to his unyielding touch. 

“Don’t be ungrateful now.” He growls, collecting the creamy spend with two fingers, scooping it back inside you. Your body jolts from the intrusion, but gathers itself again and desire swims low in the swell of your belly. “Want it all in ya’. Fillin’ you nice and good for me, Cherub. There we are, that’s it.” He smiles, eyes unmoving from your cunt as his fingers disappear inside and stretch it out, scissoring you to overstimulation. “Maybe one day i’ll get to use this one too…” And you feel his thumb once more at your butt, adding the smallest tease of pressure.

Joel pulled back, clapping a hand down on the plush, malleable skin of your thigh. 

“Up ‘n out, Cherub, ‘fore your uncle gets suspicious.” 

You know Uncle Luke won’t know any different. He’s passed out on the sofa when you get in, legs trembling with an ache weighing the marrow of your bones. You shut the door with your back and a shaking huff, tossing the weed onto the coffee table, retiring to your room, sobbing to nothing and no one but your grimy pillow, licking your wounds like the wounded bitch you had now become.

[esther-dot]

I was reading your comments about Jon's chivalry and protecting the vulnerable. This all brought to mind Jon's TV ending of stabbing Dany in the heart while kissing her. While we don't know whether or not this version of Dany's end is close to what will be the written version, it seems as though it's possible in part because of the Nissa Nissa legend. Jon doing that in the books (or something like it) would align with the Azor Ahai story, but in a warped sort of way, leaving events open to interpretation (as is usual with the prophecies and legends). But in any case, Jon killing a woman will be an act that is antithetical to so many of his values that it seems like it would come close to destroying him even if justified within Jon's universe. I wonder if Martin really plans to bring Jon this low, but also how it will be received. The optics of portraying such an ending for Dany given today's sensibilities could be viewed even more dimly than it would have been when Martin started writing the series?

(about this ask)

I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to respond! I have finally reread some pertinent chapters to situate my thoughts.

First, I just want to acknowledge how upsetting this spec is to some, and remind everyone, no one wants this ending. We all think it's gross, we're just discussing the possibility, not merely because of the show, because it's an old theory. I looked around and saw posts about this starting in 2013 by Dany fans. So, the presence of this myth is substantial enough, even BNFs/Jonerys shippers felt like it had a strong chance of manifesting (although they believe Dany would willingly sacrifice herself) well before D&D committed their fuckery. I suppose all that answers your question. Man killing his lover is a gross trope, being forced to kill a loved one to save the world is overused, so now, I can't imagine anyone reading it and being happy about it.

In trying to look at the context in-canon Martin has created, he's taken it out of the strict man kills lover idea of the AA/NN myth, and is discussing the idea of sacrificing an innocent child to a god which fans have already compared to myth, Stannis & Shireen = Agamemnon & Iphigeneia. This sacrifice hasn't happened yet, but it's been confirmed as a Martin plot point. Stannis is already burning people alive, justifying kid killing, and Davos has already planted the Stannis=AA, kid=NN idea:

Davos was remembering a tale Salladhor Saan had told him, of how Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer by thrusting it through the heart of the wife he loved. He slew his wife to fight the dark. If Stannis is Azor Ahai come again, does that mean Edric Storm must play the part of Nissa Nissa? (ASOS, Davos V)

Although, rather than this being a justified death, the fans will be horrified as we're meant to be. Davos' thoughts call into question the idea of killing another for your "magic sword":

A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost . . . When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared to pay. (ACOK, Davos I)

and Martin impresses upon us the value of each life:

"Your Grace," said Davos, "the cost . . ." "I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning . . . burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. "If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" "Everything," said Davos, softly. (ASOS, Davos V)

The talk of greater good/killing kids reminds me of AGOT in which Ned's story is inundated with the topic of child murder/protecting kids. We have Mycah, his memories of Aegon and Rhaenys, his promise to protect Jon, his guilt over his lies and treason bubbling up repeatedly, his fight against the assassination of Dany, his attempt to save Cersei's children from Robert...we all know, kid killing is wrong according to Martin, so we've already been told that this wannabe AA's actions are contemptible. The myth in which the sacrifice is happy to die, that sacrificing someone is heroic, it's being contradicted by what we're being shown in the Stannis storyline.

Now, while Stannis is being declared Azor Ahai, we're constantly being told he isn't. Jon calls the act a mummer's farce and comments on his cold sword and that is right before a Dany chapter, so the idea is, Dany is actually AA. @trinuviel is the first person I saw lay out the argument for that and contend that being AA is a bad thing (meta parts 1, 2, 3). People have said that Drogo kinda becomes her Nissa Nissa in that scenario. She burns him to get the dragons, and what are the dragons called?

"When I went to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones to beg the Pureborn for your life, I said that you were no more than a child," Xaro went on, "but Egon Emeros the Exquisite rose and said, 'She is a foolish child, mad and heedless and too dangerous to live.' When your dragons were small they were a wonder. Grown, they are death and devastation, a flaming sword above the world." He wiped away the tears. "I should have slain you in Qarth." (ADWD, Daenerys III)

That kinda makes us think, oh, the myth already has a canon counterpart, don't need to worry about it anymore. Only, we've also said Rhaegar impregnating a young Lyanna could be read as a play on Nissa Nissa, with him risking her life to get the prophecy baby, otherwise known as the third head of the dragon. And Jon is not only a kind of dragon, he repeatedly intones that fun little phrase about being a sword, and sometimes, that happens within an interesting context (for speculation purposes):

"I will." Do not fail me, he thought, or Stannis will have my head. "Do I have your word that you will keep our princess closely?" the king had said, and Jon had promised that he would. Val is no princess, though. I told him that half a hundred times. It was a feeble sort of evasion, a sad rag wrapped around his wounded word. His father would never have approved. I am the sword that guards the realm of men, Jon reminded himself, and in the end, that must be worth more than one man's honor. (ADWD, Jon VIII)

So, although there is one character that seems to be Azor Ahai (Dany), I am definitely open to the myth manifesting, or rather, being examined from multiple angles. IMO, that's what Martin is doing and we can use each variation to reassess what he's saying with it. We have Dany and Drogo (the official one/successful one), Rhaegar and Lyanna (not AA, but Jon is born), Stannis and Edric (denied), Stannis and Shireen (he will kill Shireen, but we don't know if he'll get what he wants and we do know he isn't AA)... lots of pics of a similar idea. To emphasize Stannis not being the dude and Dany being the "real" AA, we have that Jon passage and chapter transition:

Even though we have lots of contenders and commentary about this myth with the canon characters, none of it romanticizes human sacrifice, and all works towards the twist that what is said to be a hero/the weapon that will save people brings destruction. If we look back at it critically, Dany has a habit of accepting, or even causing, the suffering of others for her greater good, including sacrificing Mirri to get her dragons. We might even argue that Mirri is a Nissa Nissa for her, as Dany had taken Mirri under her protection before killing her to get dragons.

That being said, even though we're getting told this shit is bad in canon, the indictment of killing innocents and people who depend on you to protect them, it wouldn’t apply if someone were to kill Stannis or Dany. It isn’t on the same moral level as killing a child, or a spouse who loves and trusts you. It isn't the same as invading and then killing people who won't worship your god or accept you as a leader. It isn't the same as killing a slave, simply because, when their times come, Dany and Stannis will be guilty. After their actions, it would be justice for them to die. I think why other parts of the fandom entertain the idea of Dany as NN while also condemning us for entertaining it, is that Dany's vision does have her being grasped at by hands of her "children" and fans have this idea that she is sacrificing herself/her happiness for the greater good already, and in the AA/Nissa Nissa story, it does sound like she offers herself willingly for the tempering of the sword. So to them, it’s part of Dany’s heroism. Dany's death is inevitable to some, at the hands of Jon is ok, but her not dying a hero, that's unacceptable.

But thinking about how it's been discussed thus far, I can't imagine we're gonna get a romanticized version of the AA/NN myth in canon when so far, it's pretty dark/condemned. None of that precludes Jon killing Dany in what you described as a:

warped sort of way, leaving events open to interpretation (as is usual with the prophecies and legends).

which really sticks out to me as the important part of all this.

The idea that Jon might do it and characters recognize it as a tragic love story a la the myth, that fascinates me because of how Martin has written wild rumors into the story (rumors about Dany, Robb, and Sansa spring to mind), and some of us have written reality and what the public thinks into fic as two distinct things because it feels like a potential way the story might go. What is widely known to be true, like say, Jon being Ned's bastard, may not be the truth that we the readers come to know. There's no guarantee that Westeros will know what the readers know about past or future events. We may get a take on AA/NN, the characters in-world may not understand it the same way.

Jon is undeniably a hero, in a world where institutional corruption is rampant and ideals abandoned, he’s a standout in his values. We would expect, and we find, contrasts between him and these other characters (Dany, Rhaegar, Stannis), primarily, his practical actions that are about saving life/protecting life, even from Stannis, so the idea that he would abandon certain values, it's a tough one. The difference is, while Stannis, Rhaegar, and Dany were acting on these prophecies or visions or dreams, things we're repeatedly warned against trusting in the text, Jon would be taking action based on the fact that Dany is a mass-murderer, a threat to all of Westeros. It isn't a sacrifice to an unknown god for some promised mystical good, it's justice. The religious fanaticism wouldn't be a factor, the killing of an innocent wouldn't be a factor, killing a child wouldn't be a factor, killing to achieve a self-serving end wouldn't be a factor. All the things that have been criticized thus far aren't at play.

The moral quandary presented to the audience in AGOT is killing someone who might be a threat, but is a child at the moment, and Martin presents the sneaky assassination / child killing as abhorrent:

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. "My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this—should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. "Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?" "Kinder," Varys said. "Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm must bleed." Littlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it." "Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast. "A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

which is all interesting context for Dany later being assassinated, especially because the first lesson Martin gives us on justice is one that Jon is there for, and then is reiterated in relation to Dany:

Ned had heard enough. "You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?" He pushed back his chair and stood. "Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least." (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

The convo about killing Dany with LF is about a bedding and before that it was presented in terms of a wedding gift, which makes me squint now knowing the AA/NN stuff:

Yes, it's awful, and I do understand, almost agree with you here:

But in any case, Jon killing a woman will be an act that is antithetical to so many of his values that it seems like it would come close to destroying him even if justified within Jon's universe.

but the way it might tie together the initial discussion of killing Dany and the eventual act weighs heavily with me when determining what Martin might do and why/why not.

The other suggestion is that Arya kills Dany. If having dragons is Chechov's gun for KL burning then Arya being a trained assassin feels like a Chechov's gun for killing Dany. But in that scenario, there is no conflict. No inner struggle. We spent so much of AGOT weighing the morals of killing Dany, it's hard for me to believe when the time comes, it's presented without any moral complexity. Arya is already able and willing to take a life, even when it isn't justified. It doesn't feel right to me that killing Dany would be a presented without an inner struggle, that it would be done easily, as easily as Arya now kills. TBH, it removes the drama if someone other than Jon does it because it will be so highly necessary and just when the time comes. Jon is really the only character who can make it squeamish because of the guy killing a woman thing and because it will be kinslaying.

There is a lot of talk about poison, so I think it's totally possible Arya tries to kill Dany with poison first, but I think Jon is more likely to be the one to successfully kill her, and in a way that calls to mind Ned's opinion on it, See her tears, hear her last words. That would allow Martin to make sure we see it as just/moral, bring home the Targ v Targ issue, and it shades Ned's decisions and values in a very interesting way.

After s8 fans said Ned was wrong to fight against killing Dany in s1, but Martin thinks he was right to object to killing children, so for the two Targ children he was protecting in AGOT (Dany and Jon) to come face to face and one kill the other prevents the conclusion that Ned was wrong. It was the same mercy, the same refusal to see the child of an enemy as an enemy, that saved the boy who will in turn save Westeros. IMO, it's a way to uphold the belief in mercy. I tend to think it’s also Martin’s way of addressing one his questions about his beloved LOTR (what about orc babies etc).

If another person ends Dany, we still get dead Dany, but it doesn't say anything interesting? Killing her wouldn't be a sacrifice on anyone else's part, she won’t be loved and she has to go. But, Jon, who so desperately wants to have honor, if he kills her, it's right as well as an egregious "sin." Ned dishonors himself to protect Sansa (and obvy was committing treason to protect Jon), it feels like coming full circle for Jon, who so wants to be worthy of being a son to Ned to follow his path there too. Also, one thing I expect we’ll keep tracking is kinslaying. Kinslaying comes up with the AA/Nissa Nissa issue in the Stannis storyline, so I do expect that to be addressed in Jon chapters:

We have the whole baby switch to assure us, Jon values human life a great deal. All the same, that involves a moment of cruelty on Jon's side, so Martin isn't interested in keeping him perfectly pure. He likes those moments where doing the right thing is very difficult, even compromising in some way. It's why, while we say Ned committing treason for Jon is a no brainer, Martin writes Ned tortured by it. He likes the inner turmoil over decisions, placing a societal good (honor) against another obligation or ideal and asking what is right.

I wonder if Martin really plans to bring Jon this low, but also how it will be received. The optics of portraying such an ending for Dany given today's sensibilities could be viewed even more dimly than it would have been when Martin started writing the series?

Despite all the ways I think it makes sense, yes, I def think this is one of those areas that if he had finished the series as quickly as he'd hoped, would have gone over better. Dany has dragons, therefore, she will be an overwhelming threat to Westeros, so it isn't like Jon will just randomly kill a woman, yet it's distasteful all the same. Martin is looking at things from the context of his story and the ideas he’s already introduced/talking about though which is why I can wince but kinda understand it. There are other issues where my sensibilities diverge from his, so didn’t like it on the show, I don’t like it for the books, still think it’s probably gonna happen. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[gccdlittlegirl]

oops!! didn’t mean to fuck my new boss 😅

🔞 wccsn au , top!wcc , sub!sn

from my twt, so the names are censored 😭

sn was tired of being a stripper. so tired of it that he’d actually began applying for jobs…but only one application went through. starting tomorrow, he’d be the assistant to a hospital CEO. which meant he would have to meet one of the richest people in town… and be responsible for his temper tantrums. no pressure. right now, he didn’t have to worry. his only job tonight? making someone happy–and hopefully getting to relax himself.

sn dressed each night according to his moods, hoping to attract certain customers. some shifts, he’d play into his masculinity: cut out shirts to show his muscles, spiking up his short hair. but tonight, he went for glitter and pastel. tonight, sn would attract the dominators.

while on the stage, he played into his gentle side. bending over, splaying his ass cheeks in their short shorts. No sharp movements. tonight was about fun, letting loose, being free. tomorrow, he wouldn’t have any of this. tomorrow, he’d have to be put together: suited, responsible, and quick on his feet. tonight, he wanted someone else to take care of him. someone else to see him with grace. to see him as protectable. precious.

as he danced, sn couldn’t help noticing one man from across the room. a man with long slicked hair, sitting in a suit in the back of the house. he was not at the front, dancing and throwing money at sn’s feet, but sitting alone; and was eyeing sn like he wanted to devour him whole. sn kept dancing, ignoring the pawning men around him and honing in on Slick-Black.

the lights below him shone an amber hue, the color of sex and cigarette smoke. sn dropped to the floor, flipping on his back to spread his legs in a V, looking for an excuse to stop meeting the man’s eyes so intensely. He’d never had a customer so intent like this, but once Slick-Back had his eye, he didn’t drop it. sn was curious.

once the dance ended, sn roamed the floor, collecting tips and flirting with other patrons. playing up the jealousy. he wasn’t sure of Slick’s intentions, but if he could fuck as intensely as he could stare…sn was up for the bait. he walked back slowly. playfully. he tapped his kitten heels on the floor of the club, closer and closer to the back. he glanced at Slick, gave him a flirty smile. It was clear the man was enjoying his view. The screen in front of him kept lighting up, and instead of answering, Slick leaned further into his table and shoved the phone into a front pocket of his three-piece. from under the table sn could see him rubbing suspiciously under his pocket.

when he finally reached the table, sn found Slick already standing at attention for him.

“Taking your sweet time, weren’t you, Princess?” The man’s voice was higher pitched, like honey. sn fluttered.

“I figured you could wait.” sn breathed back, moving closer. “I saw you looking at me. would you like a dance, Mr…?”

“Young. Call me Young.”

So he was as rich as he looked. No one else bothered to use fake names for the dancers.

“alright, Young.”

The room was full of silvery light: sn’s preference when he wore this outfit. he put on his usual playlist, bending over a little extra for the show. Young sat on the bed kicking off his shoes. he spread his legs. sn moved between them.

“can i kiss you?” Young asked, grabbing his chin. in response, sn put his lips to Young’s. taking in his scent. amber. musk. Young grabbed sn, pulling him down onto the sheets. “you didn’t answer me, baby” he pulled his zipper down, raising his brows at sn. “i know this is your job. but i want you to be okay.”

sn’s face heated. he nodded and smiled, reaching to pull off his strappy top.

“—wait.” Young said, reaching behind Sn and grabbing the straps for him. “I will.”

he stopped after the top was off, gripping sn’s biceps and licking down his tummy. sn bucked his hips. rolled his eyes. Young moved further down, a glint in his eyes as he pulled away sn’s shorts, baring him. sn breathed a moan, unable to contain it.

“that’s it, princess,” Young responded, taking sn’s full length.

sn grabbed Young’s hair, pushing him further into his cock. his eyes rolled.

“oh shit!! oh shit!!” Young took his penis from his mouth and rubbed it out, still aiming the tip at his mouth.

“yeah? are you a needy baby? yeah?” “yeah—” sn gasped, riding through the high. as he came, tears fell from his cheeks. “my needy princess,” Young cooed, kissing and biting his neck. he still had sn’s cock, and sn moaned as he thumbed the tip. “you did so good for daddy. let’s clean you up now.”

Monday morning, sn was up by six, sitting in his car with a cold cup of coffee. his throat still hurt from his night with Young, and the man’s voice was still stuck in his ears, but he couldn’t miss his first day. sn walked through the door, approaching the front desk.

“hey, i’m ch0i s4n, the new assistant for…” Before he could finish, a familiar voice caressed his ear. “Jvng Wccyoung.” Sn turned.

It was Young. His new boss, the man he’d be making coffees for, the man he’d be printing and copying and emailing for, was…

Young—Wccyoung—smiled. “You can follow me.”

[prettyiwa]

I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work anywhere. Do not mention me or my work on Tik-Tok.

Relationship: Ex!Semi Eita x F!Reader Content Tags: Bassist!Semi Eita, Post MSBY-Schweiden, Fluff, Past Relationship, Mentions of a Messy Break-Up, High School Sweethearts, Lingering Feelings, Awkwardness Summary: Throughout your relationship with Eita, there was only one song he never shared with you completely. He used to hum its melody while he worked, though its lyrics remained a mystery to you. No one expected the first time you'd hear them would be during a show following a surprise reunion years after your separation. Word Count: 2,390

A/N: I found this in my WIPs and decided to share what I had. I'm slowly coming to terms with sharing unfinished WIPs and the idea that I may never fully return to them. In the meantime, enjoy?

Ushijima’s question is forgotten the second you hear the opening chords of the next song. Your attention returns to Eita—as though he hasn’t been the center of it all evening—and all coherent thought escapes you. Your heart swells and your breath catches and all you can do is listen to the gentle bassline Eita provides before other instruments join in, one by one.

Suddenly seventeen again, you’re listening to this progression for the first time before he blushes and flusters, ceasing his playing before offering a proper greeting. But that swelling in your chest halts when you’re reminded that you’re not seventeen, that you’re twenty-four with years having passed since you two last spoke.

The song continues, its full form light and hopeful, melancholy if only to you because it viciously reminds you that you’re no longer the kids who believed they could conquer the world together. All the same, the smile that appears on your lips is completely involuntary, a reaction to hearing his lyrics for the first time.

It’s not until he looks away that you realize the hold he’s kept you under, that he’s undeniably aware of your presence in the back of the audience. While you remain uncertain whether Satori’s teases have merit or that Shirabu didn’t set this up for personal entertainment (or that, perhaps, the truth lies in either’s persistence), you are certain that Eita sees you now.

Your heart remains hopeful, willing you to see the yearning in his expression, but there’s that voice in the back of your mind telling you that you’re projecting, that he’s sung this song hundreds of times before for the attention of any of the women around you. The romance you two once had is dead and gone and this is nothing more than a reminder of what once was.

Hell, you’re only here because of a series of coincidences—your return to Japan aligning with Ushijima’s game in Sendai; a schedule change that made Shirabu unavailable to attend the MSBY v. Schweiden match; a passing comment made by Reon regarding Eita’s show tonight; Ushijima inviting you since it’s been years since he’s seen you and months since he’s spoken with Eita. At no point yesterday did Eita otherwise speak with you. He only stared as though confronted with a ghost while you were invited to his performance by the grace of your high school friends. If not for how deeply you missed everyone—if not for how easily swayed you are by all of them—you wouldn’t be here.

The truth remains that Eita wouldn’t have invited you, that he likely already had this song on his set list before your reemergence in his life, that you aren’t the one he intends for it.

Still, you’re both here. He’s playing with his band at his favorite venue and you’re in the audience to cheer him on. One of the first promises you two made each other, fulfilled, something you can cherish if all else is lost. It does nothing to temper your longing, but it soothes some of the sting.

Girls on either side of you swoon, enamored by the pretty men on stage offering prettier lyrics while you’re faced with the largest what-if of your adult life and all of the abandoned promises and sweet nothings that were once yours. What does it matter when the promises that truly mattered are being fulfilled?

The song finishes, its lovely melody coming to a close, but you don’t realize you’re crying until Ushijima offers his handkerchief. Eita’s gaze shifts away again as Ushijima says, “I haven’t heard him play that song since high school.”

“Have you seen Eita perform with this band before?”

“I have. Sometimes they play in Tokyo and if they have a show when I’m in Miyagi, I’ll attend.”

“I’m glad. That makes me happy,” you answer with a smile before returning your full attention to the band.

It means nothing that Ushijima has never heard the song any of the times he’s seen Eita play. It’s not as though he played it for you. Even if he did… it changes nothing. All the same, you’re glad you’re here and glad you were given the opportunity to listen to the finished piece.

With the performance over and the band retreating to the back, you’re about ready to call it a night, certain Ushijima’s feeling the same. Instead, he beckons you to the periphery, providing identification to security as he leads you both to the back of the club. It’s too loud for you to get a word in edgewise once you realize he intends to bring you to Eita, but you don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.

Heart racing, you can’t help but remember yesterday, remember how Eita behaved, deciding he doesn’t actually want you here. He’s never been one to hold back, always asking for what he wants—“the answer’s already no if you don’t ask,” he used to say—so for him to say nothing? Well… It’s easy to anticipate push-back.

“Ushijima,” you prompt once the hallway provides a buffer to the cacophony of the club, “are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t know if Eita wants to see me. Maybe it’s better if I just leave and let you two catch up.”

Stopping in front of the door, he turns to you with a furrowed brow before speaking. “He wants to see you. We were both pleased to run into you after my game.”

“I’m happy I got to see you, too, but I don’t know.”

“I can show you the group conversation if you don’t believe me,” he offers, pulling out his phone.

“Ah, no, it’s okay, I promise,” you say with a laugh, pushing his phone away. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“You still care for him, don’t you?”

“I never stopped.”

Before he can respond, the door opens and the drummer pauses upon seeing you. Sizing you both up, he calls back to the band, “Ushijima and some chick are here,” before pushing past you.

Ushijima enters, taking the space once occupied by the musician, waiting for you to join him. The back room is small, adorned with signed posters from bands who’ve performed in years past, cramped with a mini-bar and unnecessarily large seating, making it feel cluttered even without people.

Everyone watches as you enter, curious as to the identity of “some chick,” and you’re struck by the tension that hangs in the air, the obvious remnants of an argument. Your search for a quiet distraction isn’t in vain as you catch sight of Eita.

Painfully aware that you aren’t alone, that it’s getting harder to breathe under everyone’s continued scrutiny, that the temperature’s rising, that your palms are uncomfortably sweaty, you find that you… don’t care. Not when he’s no longer looking at you as a ghost but as a friend that he’s missed. He looks at you like that, smile stretching his lips, and you can almost forget that last brutal argument.

Offering an awkward little wave and sincere praise for their performance, you feel it more than you see it—the release of the tension in the room, a collective breath held being released. The groupies start gushing over professional athlete Ushijima Wakatoshi and the musicians greet him like they’re used to it. Meanwhile, Eita stands as you approach, disbelief still tucked behind his expression despite his smile.

“You came.”

“Of course I came. I always promised I’d see you here,” you remind him, returning his smile.

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

“How could I miss this? I don’t think I have any right to say this, but I’m proud of you and your hard work. For whatever that’s worth.”

A steady flush starts to rise on his cheeks before his smile turns boyish. Uttering your given name in conjunction with his thanks, the other conversations stop and eyes are on you two again. Not until his guitarist repeats your name do you look away, surprised to meet the frustrated faces of his bandmates.

“Oh, so she’s the one you threw our set list out the window for?”

“I’m—what?”

“I already told you guys—”

“Yeah, yeah, you didn’t know what you were doing until it was too late. Doesn’t change the fact that you almost left us hanging in the middle of a set.”

“What are they talking about?” you ask, determined to not read more into the situation than you already have.

“Nothing. They’re talking about nothing. Can we—?”

“Nothing? Nothing except your boyfriend surprising us by playing a completely different song than the one we planned. He’s lucky we’ve practiced it before or we would’ve all been left in a lurch.”

Eita looks at you again and you’re reminded of a child being caught with their hand in the sweets jar. Your mind can’t seem to move past the casual use of “boyfriend” and the reveal that he hadn’t planned on playing that song.

“We aren’t—shit. Ei- I mean, Semi?” you ask, alarm audible in your voice as your cheeks start to burn.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he turns to you, eyes wide, mirroring your trepidation. “I told you guys that we aren’t together.”

“After that stunt tonight, you better be.”

“Semi, I can leave. It’s fine. We came back to say ‘hi’ and tell you that the band’s performance was great,” you say, pulling back. Ushijima starts and you wave him away. “It’s okay, Ushijima. I can call myself a cab. I’ll text you.”

Ushijima hesitates, not wanting to leave you on your own but wanting to respect your wishes, only relenting when Eita steps forward, closing the distance between you two again. He shoots a glare toward his guitarist and cellist before turning to you.

“Please don’t go. You just got here.”

“Semi,” you warn, guilt rippling through you as he deflates. “Listen. It was great seeing you and being able to watch you play, but I should get going. It’s been a long day.”

You can tell he wants to push back, that he wants you to stay—and what a wonderful feeling it is, knowing that—but he senses your discomfort and nods. “At least let me walk you out.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure to take her out through the back so your fan girls don’t get pissy.” The guitarist sports a scowl when you say goodbye to Ushijima, allowing Eita to usher you outside.

It’s hard to place what you’re feeling as you follow, hard to reconcile the way you find this comfortable despite the distance between you. Maybe the silence is as equally daunting, equally filled for him as it is for you. He waits until you’re both outside before saying anything, though he still hasn’t turned to face you. “Look, I need you to know that—”

“It’s okay, Semi. Truly.”

“Will you just let me speak?”

“Sorry. I’m just… nervous.”

“And you think I’m not?” he asks, turning and pinning you with his stare. “Shit. None of this is going the way I thought it would.” Hiding his face behind his hands, he takes a deep breath before bringing his hands up, smoothing over his hair.

“What’s not?”

“Tonight. You.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Shit, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I thought I would’ve gotten over my nerves around you. Things between us… didn’t end on the best of terms.”

“To put it mildly,” you agree, remembering how vehemently he refused your proposal to split, how quickly concerns over distance were warped into insecure accusations until the argument destroyed any hope you had to remain friends.

“I miss you. It was like a dream seeing you the other night.”

Your heart hiccups at his uncharacteristic openness about his emotions and you look at your shoes before asking, “Didn’t Shirabu tell you I was coming? Or Satori?”

“You must be confusing me for someone who has a better relationship with Shirabu. And Tendō said he didn’t tell me because he thought it would be funnier this way.”

You can’t help but laugh, but let some of your nervous energy escape with the sound. When you look up again, you find the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry. Shirabu told me he planned on seeing the match with you and Reon, only for his shift to change at the last minute.”

“He told Reon, but Reon seemed to forget to pass it on.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize again, amused by their antics. Part of you wishes you had looked at the group chat when Ushijima offered. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Let me take you out for coffee.”

The answer comes a little too quickly and his familiar confidence starts to make itself known, but you hear that little seed of doubt that Eita’s always worked so hard to hide. Even still, you’re worried that it’s too much too soon, that you’ll both get caught in the illusion of “what could have been” rather than what is, that there’s nothing but pain waiting at the end of this road.

“Just coffee, and just as friends, right?”

“Of course.”

“Semi—”

“Just coffee. No surprises. No unwelcome guests. No songs that catch everyone off guard. Just coffee.”

“So you didn’t plan on playing that song?”

“I’ll tell you more about it when we get coffee,” he teases, flashing you a wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

Gods is this man beautiful. So easy would it be to fall into old habits, to give him whatever he asks for. There’s an undeniable pull for you to learn all the way he’s changed in the years since you last saw him, to discover who he is now, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating in such a way that only Eita could pull off.

Bowing your head in an attempt to hide your answering smile, you relent. “Okay, fine. Just coffee. Let me give you my number and we can figure out a time that works for us both.”

His fingers brush against yours as he hands you his phone and you don’t miss the way his smile grows and you know deep within your bones that there’s no way it’s going to be just coffee. Not that either of you seems to mind.

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

[youaremycosmo]

《Just more love to you》 taemin x reader scenario

As always, hope you'll like this scenario and short-tempered Taeminnie xD I'm thankful for every like&repost, hugs to all of you ❤️ Word count// 4,019 words

Pairing// Taemin x you

Summary// Taemin is your 25-year-old fiancé, who has been working as a dancer and choreographer since he graduated from high school. Despite your breakup and 3-year break, you came back together realizing that you couldn't live without each other, and you are trying to get used to the differences that arose while you were away. You're going to a house party to his friend you haven't met before. Henry turns out to be a truly charming and easy-going idol, catching everyone's attention. On the way home, when you're a little drunk, Taemin can't stand it and lets out all his jealousy. This is met with a rather unexpected reaction from you, while your whole life you have been setting Taem up with his ridiculous possessiveness.

Inspired by Life Bar's Taemin & Henry episode.

Genre// fluff, angst (???)

Warnings// possessive behavior, feeling guilty over things you normally shouldn't?, drunken state, swearing

MASTERLIST

- Why are you looking at me like that? - you asked Taemin with a giggle, sitting on the dresser to put on your shoes.

You and Tae were leaving for a small house party to his friend Henry. You didn't know him at all, except that you knew he was an idol.

- Nothing, just... - his gaze moved over your entire body, from your exposed shoulders with only the thin straps of your dress, through the black brocade material that tightly wrapped your figure, to the end of it halfway down your thigh. Instead of breasts, it showed off your legs and overall proportions very nicely. - I wonder how long you've been wearing dresses like that - he added, clearly shy, glancing at the keys in his hand. - Since I'm older, Tae - you replied, amused by his words, zipping up your high-heeled boots and standing up. - I'm not fifteen anymore, I guess I can wear something other than a sweatshirt? - you smirked, reaching for your coat.

Taemin quickly took it over from you though, helping you get dressed, which allowed you to keep looking at him in the mirror. Compared to you, he had chosen more casual clothes, just a cream sweater and black tight pants. You didn't think he looked less graceful than you, because it really emphasized his broader shoulders and the V-neck showed off a bit of his muscular chest when he leaned over.

- You don't like it? - you asked as Taem fixed your hair, hidden under black coat. - I like it - he admitted affectionately, cuddling up to you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, gazing in the mirror. - You look really gorgeous. Where did I get such a beautiful fiancée? - he purred, nuzzling into your neck and kissing it here. - Where did I get such a beautiful fiancé? - you replied equally tenderly, turning your head and placing a sweet kiss on his lips. - We should go now, right? - you checked the time and took your bag as Taemin nodded, relaxing his hands.

It was about an hour from Seoul to Henry's apartment, which you easily filled with conversations and singing your favorite songs. One of the things you loved doing together was going for drives, when you always held hands and Taem would show off his vocal skills. However, you were very eager to take over all the rap parts.

When you arrived and entered the apartment, Henry looked like he was a really good friend of Taemin's, greeting him so warmly. Well, it seemed that the period in which your fiancé started meeting famous people passed without your presence and you were left with an accomplished fact. This made you a bit embarrassed because, to you, these were still people you only saw on TV and the internet. And it reminded you that Taemin was no longer your unknown boyfriend, but a person that many celebrities in the industry already knew due to his polished skills. Taem himself didn't boast about who exactly he worked with, telling stories mostly about technical things, so you slowly got to know his new friends.

You just stood in the corridor, biting your lip and looking around curiously when Henry asked how he was doing. You were even more shy when the first thing Taemin said was "I'm engaged" as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

- Tae - you groaned softly, elbowing his ribs. Ten seconds and you already wanted to vanish into thin air, examining the upscale decor and the boy in front of you who looked like he was on the cover of a magazine. Correction, he actually was on magazine covers. - Oh, this is Taemin's famous fiancée - Henry gave you a charming smile, pulling out his hand to you. - Nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you… I’m Henry - he introduced himself. - It’s so nice to meet you too, I’m y/n - you squeezed his hand. - Please don't talk like that, I feel so shy - you whined with your cheeks slightly flushed, taking off your coat.

- But I'm just telling the truth, Taemin has become a man who just got engaged, he says that to everyone - he said in amusement, leading you to the living room.

You glanced at your fiancé. Taem didn't even deny it, just rearranging his glamorous burgundy hair at a run and smiling widely.

When you greeted everyone and took a comfortable seat at the large table filled with food, you were already impressed by Henry's behavior. You weren't surprised at all why he became an idol and why he must have been popular, he had a typical bubbly personality. He was simply everywhere and seemed to find common ground with everyone compared to you and Taemin. You both were a bit more withdrawn and introverted, needing time to be comfortable with newfound people. 

The first thing Henry did when everyone was finally gathered and he sat down at the table was opening a beer. However, he couldn't do it normally, coming up with a different way for every person, to which you and Taemin reacted by looking at each other and giggling quietly, wrinkling your noses. When it was your turn, you bit your lip lightly in anticipation and little stress from so many pairs of eyes on you. 

- For this beautiful lady... - Henry smiled broadly, leaning the bottle cap on the table and swiped his hand at it.

- No, no, you'll hurt yourself - you squealed worriedly, tensing up and grabbing Taemin's wrist out of nerves.

- Don't be nervous, oppa can do it - he assured with a flirty smile, immediately opening it for you, which was met with loud cheers from everyone. You bursted out laughing and took the bottle, thanking him. Saying he charmed the pants off you was an understatement. 

The next hour or so was mostly spent around him. Henry told funny stories about his life, bringing the house down. You were so engrossed in them that you didn't even pay attention to the amount of alcohol you were drinking, hugging Tae's shoulder more and more whenever you heard something hilarious. Henry was talking about how he was accepted into the company and practiced his skills, suddenly mentioning Taemin.

- Taemin is the best dancer I know - he replied cheekily when someone said that he danced well. - I think so too, but I look at him and... - he shook his head in a funny manner, and Tae giggled charmingly, waving his hand. It was the first time in a few minutes that you paid attention back to your fiancé, who was now telling a story about how he got lost in the new company building and Henry was the first person he asked for directions, and later it turned out that he was supposed to practice with him.

You rested your cheek on your hand, staring intently at Taem as he spoke. He was so adorable, trying not to burst out laughing while telling all this. He definitely wasn't as easy-going as Henry, but he was so damn handsome and endearing in profile, especially when he blinked his eyes so cutely. And Tae was definitely confident too, he just had a more mysterious and dignified aura around him. That's why you couldn't help but wrap your arms around his shoulder, giving him a kiss on the cheek as everyone focused on the host again. Still, you kept all those thoughts to yourself, frowning in surprise when the chair from the table across from you was pulled out all of sudden and Henry brought over a handheld burner along with a few other things. His clothes were now covered by a kitchen apron, which was unusual.

You had already been drinking beer and soju a while ago, but you didn't care, knowing that Tae would drive and stay sober to take charge of you. So you poured yourself another glass, devouring it right away.

- Woah, that's really daebak - you commented, being in awe when he started flipping the pan in the air. You shifted slightly in your seat to get a better look at how he did it so effortlessly, explaining that he took a cooking class for 4 months to record some scenes for the show. You didn't even notice your hand tightening on Taem's sweater as Henry started cutting up all the ingredients. He was able to prepare peppers so quickly that some people began to simply take videos of him. Then he crushed and chopped garlic as if he had been born doing it, and finally poured everything into the pan.

- My dear ladies - he gazed at all the women in turn. - Don't worry, Chef Henry has everything under control - he chirped before setting the contents of the pan on fire, stirring everything in the air. Your lips parted without realizing it, like all the other girls at the table watching it. Henry was just really talented plus he had the personality to dress it up in a way that left people completely fascinated by him. You smiled as he placed the finished dish on a plate, and all of you leaned over with chopsticks to try it.

Before you could do anything, Taemin's hand with chopsticks grabbed one of the pieces of meat. He blew them for a moment and brought it to your lips. You ate it without thinking much, busy taking a piece of pepper. - It's really good - you and the others complimented, eyes still glued to the plate. Your coordination was definitely not the best anymore, and you were far too amused.

You didn't even know when, it was three in the morning and it was about time to finally say goodbye. Henry made sure that everyone who was staying had a place to sleep, and besides, most of them were in a similar condition as you, so after a short goodbye to him, you left with your other friends who were going home.

- Woah, it went by so quickly - you heaved a sigh, putting on your seat belt in the car with some difficulty. You were definitely a little tipsy and not focused anymore on what you were saying and doing, which is why Taem had to assist you the whole way, and most importantly, walk slowly because you were feeling dizzy. - Actually, we were all eyes as he went on and on the whole evening, Tae, I don't think I've ever met such a person! - you said, impressed, but then frowned slightly when Taemin started driving the car. You just needed a moment to get used to the feeling. - And his apartment... oh gosh, I've never been in such an apartment in my life, I wonder how much he earns per month - you slightly adjusted your short dress. - I was worried that I wouldn't be able to be comfortable, but he has such a personality that I immediately stopped worrying. He broke the ice so quickly, it's like I've known him for a long time, I don't know how - you laughed cordially, satisfied with how the evening passed. 

Taemin remained silent the entire time and let you speak whatever came to your tongue. He stayed focused on the road and in the end, the silence caught your attention.

- Are you tired, Taeminnie? - you asked caringly, stroking his shoulder. - Next time we'll stay at his place so you can have a drink too - you said quietly in a warm voice. - Or we'll switch, you're cute when you're drunk... - you giggled to yourself. - On the other hand, they probably won't fall asleep until the morning, because Henry will still be...

- Ah, that's enough - Tae interrupted you, clearly irritated. - I saw the way you all looked at him. And you had your mouth gaped open all the time, tugging on my arm every time he showed a trick - he called this out so suddenly. You glanced at his profile, because this words were starting to tug at your heartstrings. - Well, it was my fiancé's arm, however you put it - you muttered, looking away towards the window. - You're right, it was about Henry and Henry all the evening, he was hitting on each of the girls equally - he continued, unfazed by your answer. His voice sounded painfully disappointed. You placed your knees on the dashboard, sliding deeper into the seat. - Take off those legs, you'll break them if there's an accident - he pointed out to you, but it wasn’t so kind and caring as usual. - Then drive so as not to have an accident - you replied, being already so cut up. Normally, you would have calmed down the situation somehow, or on the contrary - argued with Taemin, but you were a little tipsy. And it turned your emotions upside down.

That's why you were now sitting with your face covered with your hair completely. You silently dissolved into tears, feeling guilty over every single reaction to Henry. You were so sorry due to his accusations. Henry was just being nice, maybe a little too flirty, but you would never do anything inappropriate.

You shouldn't go there at all. Then the evening would be nicer, and Taemin wouldn't be annoyed by you being an ungrateful fiancée, who googled another man so shamelessly. You couldn't control yourself more and finally sniffed hard, unable to keep your shallow breathing and swallowed tears in silence. In a second, Taemin reached for the strands of your hair, catching a glimpse of your already tear-stained face.

- I thought you fell asleep, why are you crying? - he asked, clearly surprised.  - Because you're angry with me - you sobbed, covering your lips with your hand and just completely losing it. You moved closer to the door, cringing as much as you could.

You heard the turn signal, and soon the car was in the emergency lane.  - Baby, I... I'm not angry with you, come on - his voice wasn't as sharp and irritated anymore, going back to what you were used to. But he was just trying to unscramble the egg. - Love, look at me - Tae unbuckled his belt and reached for your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. You just shooked your head. - I... I'm sorry... I… - you sobbed, choking on your tears.

The next thing you heard was the door opening on his side. It seemed like he didn't want to be near you anymore at this point, which saddened you even more. And you sat there for a few seconds alone, bawling your eyes out. Suddenly, the handle on your side was pulled, letting some water in, because it was raining really hard. Taemin sat on the doormat with his legs still outside, closing the door as tight as possible to keep you from getting wet. His hair and clothes were already soaked, but he didn't seem to care much about that. He unbuckled your belt and pulled you into his embrace. 

- Shhh... baby… - Taem muttered, running his hands along your spine. - Don't cry, please... you know my heart bleeds when you cry - he said softly, kissing the side of your head. - I said too much, definitely too much... I shouldn't have jumped on you like that about such a silly thing… - Y-you didn't say t-too much, you said w-what you thought.. - you cried, snuggling into his loving arms. - I shouldn't have gone there at all… - I was the one who suggested we go there. I know him well and... - he sighed quietly, blowing air lightly over your earlobe. - I don't know, normally I didn't mind, but I felt weird when he picked on you... Even if you were so close to me - he whispered directly into your ear. - It's not your fault, it's me... I want to have you only for myself. I don't want anyone to take you away from me. I don’t want to... - his voice was confident and dominant as usual, but suddenly it cracked slightly. - I just can't cope without you - he finally admitted, sounding so uneasy. 

You pulled away slightly, reaching up to cup his cheeks. - You know that I love you more than anything in the world, my cutie patootie - you kissed his forehead dotingly. - You're my charming fiancé and... and… You're like the cherry in the whipped cream on a huge ten-tier chocolate cake with caramel and... and... what was it? - you sniffed sharply, trying to remember what you wanted to say. - Nevermind, anyway…- his hand rubbing your cheeks carefully distracted you a bit. - I love you - you said, maybe a little too sweetly yet aggressively. - There's no other man I look at like that, and even if he seemed nice showing off like that, people like that are tiring - you groaned. - I'm tired after a few hours, but I can spend the whole day with you and not be tired at all…  I... I love you more than anyone else and we can get married even now - you assured him, and Tae started wiping your nose with tissue.

- I know that, I'm sorry, sweetheart - he replied, looking into your eyes. - Just some part of me… - he frowned as he couldn’t find accurate words. - It's hard for me not to think like that when... - But you're the only man in my life and you're the most handsome, really - you said with full conviction, interrupting him. - And you're the most talented, you dance a thousand times better than him and... and... - you glanced around the car for next compliments. - And you’re so amazing when you play the piano… and your voice is more lovely, too - you got closer again and smooched him tenderly on the lips. - And no one fucks me like you do and… cum in me… and…  - you sniffled hard, trying to breathe properly while this no ending stream of affection flooded out of you. - And you’re my sunshine when you laugh... and in general, personally, I think you have the most beautiful smile in the world... and you are always my hero when it is something scary, because i got scared so easily, but you not...

Taemin's eyes were now buttery and filled with love. He was very careful not to laugh at this drunken declaration of love, perhaps a little too vulgar, but definitely sincere. It wasn't often that you were this effusive with your feelings, and Tae treasured these moments especially dearly, trying to mentally commit every silly compliment about himself to his mind.

- My cooking isn’t like his, though… - he asked, tilting his head curiously. - Cooking... oh, you cook the best too! - you chirped with enthusiasm, even though Taem, compared to Henry, could only make a few dishes and had to be extremely careful not to burn it.

Taemin pursed his lips into a thin line, blinking a few times. He knew well that he wasn't particularly good at it and he could learn a lot from Henry. - But I'm not very good at cooking and you know it - he replied as he was trying to tease you.

- But your cooking tastes better for me! - your reply was so fast and confident with your hands on his shoulders. - Oh... and you're definitely better built, your muscles are really... - you ran your hands over his biceps, letting out a loud sigh. - I think… I'm getting a little horny - you admitted with a flirty smile, and Taemin allowed himself to chuckle a little. - How could I be mad at such an adorable baby like you? - he purred, taking your hands in his and kissing them fondly. - You’re cute as a button, I swear…Give your fiancé a kiss - he asked sweetly, and you reached up to cup his cheeks again. You pecked his full, kissable lips a few more times, making sure each one was met with a satisfying ‘mwah’. - Show you something? - you proposed with a mischievous smile, pulling away slightly. - What do you want to show me? - Taem’s eyes gleamed. 

You slipped your hands out of the sleeves of your winter jacket. You remained in just a rather skimpy dress. At this point, you were thankful that you had decided not to wear a bra underneath, making it very easy to do what you wanted in this tipsy condition. You quickly removed the thin straps from your shoulders and slid the fabric down, shamelessly showing him your breasts in all their glory.

- Ah, what are you doing? - Taemin cracked up and quickly covered your chest again while glancing sideways. - Apparently, just some men can bear women's tears, but even fewer the sight of hand warmers - you explained, extremely pleased with yourself.

- Hand warmers? - he asked with amusement, tilting his head to the side.

- Pabo - you rolled your eyes, taking his hands and placing them on your breasts, sliding the fabric down again. - Your hands are cold, indeed... But don't worry, my twins will keep you warm...

Taemin looked down for a moment, clearing his throat loudly, but in reality he was stifling his uncontrollable laughter.

- You really are one of a kind, jagiya - he giggled heartily. - But let’s just let the heating work and you'll stay nicely wrapped in your jacket - he decided, starting to help you get dressed. - Oh… I thought we… - you pouted, letting him do whatever he wanted anyway. - What were you thinking?- Taem asked, slipping your hands delicately into sleeves.

- Well... that, you know, well... - you sighed quietly, frowning a little. - That you will stick your big, hard dick inside me, all the way to your balls... - Hola, hola, take it easy, cowgirl - he let a belly laugh, zipping up your jacket. - You know we don't have sex when we're drunk…- he admonished you, pointing his finger. - But I just drank two beers, i’m not drunk - you groaned, leaning forward and lightly biting his finger with mischief.

- Not two, but four. You can’t even remember, and am i supposed to believe you? - he smiled warmly and stroked your head. - Is it alright now? - Tae asked fondly with slight worry in his eyes. 

You nodded a little too enthusiastic, reassuring him that everything was fine. - Or maybe you'd just like me to suck you off? - you straightened up just thinking about it. - I can do it on our way home, so... - Baby, please - he chuckled, putting the belt back on you. - Tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow I'll let you do everything… - he assured and stood up, placing a kiss on your forehead before returning to his seat through the rain. Taem immediately turned on the heater, but before he returned the car to the road, he stared at you once more. - I'm sorry, princess. I shouldn't act like this to you - he said quietly, putting his elbow on the armrest and caressing your cheek gently. You moved closer, hugging his arm. - It’s okay, jealous hottie - you assured, nuzzling your cheek into his slightly wet sweater and closing your eyes. You only felt him lovingly ruffle your hair and starting the car. 

After a while you fell asleep, wrapped in the sound of rain tapping on the windows and Tae's delicate voice, who was singing softly songs from the playlist under his breath.

[lovelyllamasblog]

Another thing for @lazella! Like my last post, this is based on her TWST x YGO crossover fic, And You Thought Things Were Over. This time, I did the Bracelet Girls from Arc V!

Like Yuto, Yugo, and Yuri, I don't know if they'll be making any appearances in lazella's fic, but I really hope they do. These are just my headcanons, so take them with a grain of salt.

First, Yuzu Hiiragi! I imagine her in Scarabia along with Yuya. She's very thoughtful and smart, has a good head on her shoulders, and despite her hot temper, she has a kind heart and is always looking out for others. She has blue bows to mimic the blue hair clips she always wears. (The game also didn't the right shade of pink for her little hair dangles. I made them lilac to contrast her hair.)

Second, we have Serena (Celina) in Heartslabyul. Now, I know what you're thinking; she's a rebel. Why put her in a place with all those rules? It's two fold. One, the most basic answer is because of her uniform in the anime. It's red, and I just couldn't help myself. Two, she kind of gives off Alice vibes. A girl who lived in a straight and uptight community suddenly thrown into a place where nothing makes sense. I feel like she would question Riddle a lot about the rules and maybe get collared once or twice because of it.

(Her hair bow is white because the game doesn't have a yellow bow option. I think she would have a diamond like in the first picture, but the second was inspired by @wearepopcandies' art of the girls as Queen Cards.)

Next, we have Rin in Ignihyde. Like Yugo, Rin is a mechanic and is very good with machines. She would be the motherly figure that I think the dorm needs, telling them to take breaks, reminding them to take care of themselves, and, probably most importantly, keeping Yugo in check. Idia would learn to fear her since she appears to be everywhere at once and scolds him for his own neglect to his health. Basically, she gives off major Big Sister vibes.

(Again, the game did not have right shade of green for her hair, so I made two, one dark green and one blonde, in order to try and create sort of a visual point of reference for her hair? If that makes sense?)

Finally, we have Ruri Kurosaki, or Lulu Obsidian in the English dub. I put her in Octavinelle with Yuto. Like him, she has a calm disposition and a kind heart. She is also the most graceful of the Bracelet Girls and gives off Kind Big Sister vibes. She's one of the few people that can tell Floyd off without being threatened that he's gonna squeeze her. I couldn't get her hair completely accurate due to the game's limited options.

Edit: Thinking more about it, Ruri might also be a fit for Pomefiore too.

And yes, all the girls have their bracelets. I imagine in this world, the bracelets act like magic pens, letting the girls use magic for a short amount of time. I don't know how magical the bracelets actually are, but considering that they allow the girls to teleport the boys away from each other in order to keep Zarc at bay, I would imagine that the abilities of the bracelets would expand in a world full of magic, and the girls would develop their own magical abilities, like the boys.

Again, take this with a grain of salt since this is not my AU. I know lazella has something amazing planned for the future chapters and I for one cannot wait!

[scotianostra]

On August 16th 1540 Sir James Hamilton of Finnart was executed.

If ever there was a fall from grace this is it, Hamilton was an architect and noble, known as the ‘Bastard of Arran, back in the day Bastard was not classed as a swear word, it merely meant being illegitimate, in this case he the son of James Hamilton, 1st Earl of Arran. Knighted aged around 17 and seems to have been well thought of, at least by his peers.

If you have visited some of the castles and palaces of Scotland you will have seen Hamilton’s’ work, he is credited with much f the Palace at Falkland you see today, and the Palace at Stirling Castle. He also built Craignethan Castle in South Lanarkshire  for himself after being gifted the Craignethan Castle  by King James V.

Hamilton was also involved in intrigue and persecution; he murdered John Stuart, the Earl of Lennox, and participated in the oppression of the Protestants, including his own cousin Patrick Hamilton, who was burnt at the stake in 1528. Known for his temper, Hamilton also provoked the infamous 'Clear the Causeway’ skirmish in Edinburgh.

Also called Cleanse the Causeway, the Skirmish was the result of enmity between the House of Hamilton and the “Red” Angus line of the House of Clan Douglas, both powerful noble families jealous of each other’s influence over King James V. The fight went badly for the Hamiltons, and Sir Patrick Hamilton and about 70 others were killed in the incident. The Earl of Arran and Sir James fought their way out, and escaped along a narrow close. Stealing a nearby pack-horse that had come into the city with coals, they fled through the shallows of the Nor Loch marshes.

Having survived this he seems to have still been in a good position of influence in the Royal Court and held the post of  Lord Steward of the Royal Household and Master of Works.

For unexplained reasons his fickle King became convinced that Hamilton was plotting against him and, despite there being no evidence to support this, arrested his old friend, some of the evidence the King offered on August 16th 1540 at the trial was from 12 years previous and reads;

“Sir James Hamilton of Finnart, having been convicted of the treasonable shooting of guns and firing of missiles outside the palace of Linlithgow and from the bell-tower of the same, at the king and the people in his company, both at the time the king came to the palace and when he withdrew from the same, and especially at his lodging place in the same town, the king being personally present at the time of the firing of the said missiles. And for art and part in the treasonable imagination, planning, and consultation, vulgarly called devising, of assassinations, at the time it is said he was with Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie and James Douglas of Parkhead at the chapel of St Leonard near Edinburgh, after the forfeiture of Archibald Douglas, formerly Earl of Angus, George Douglas of Pittendreich his brother, and the said Archibald Douglas, his father, and also during the siege of Tantallon Castle in consultation with the said Douglases, how he would enter by the window near the upper part of the bed, 'the bedhead’ (superiorem thori - literally above the pillows), in the King’s palace near Holyrood Abbey, and how there he would commit the slaughter of the King. And for common treason and conspiracy against the King, his realm and lieges. Therefore it was given that this James forfeited his life, lands, rents and possessions to the king as his escheat, to remain with him in perpetuity.”

That is how it read from the record books, they weren’t keen on paragraphs back then!

After losing his head in Edinburgh King James seized his lands, taking the silverwork from the chapel at Craignethan along with a chest of the families paperwork many of which were destroyed by crown officers. Cardinal Beaton gave money to his widow, as she was his relative.

That wasn’t the last the King heard from The Bastard of Arran though, Finnart is said to have appeared to the James V in a dream, and declared that he “would shortly lose both arms, then his head.” This prophecy came true, as the King lost both of his young sons in 1541, and died himself in 1542. The story was recorded by John Knox and George Buchanan.

Wiilliam of Hawthornden and George Buchanan both cited the execution as evidence of arbitrary cruelty and greed in the behaviour of James V, I've said it before that the Stewarts were a ruthless lot. The reasons for Finnart’s execution remain unclear and are still debated between some historians to this day.

Pics are of Linlithgow Palace and Craignethan Castle.

[lookingforhappy]

here's an absolutely ancient draft with explainations of each of the brellies' names and origins that i compiled millenia ago lmao

Luther -

Wikipedia:

As a German surname, Luther is derived from a Germanic personal name compounded from the words liut, "people", and heri, "army". As a rare English surname, it means "lute player". Luther is also derived from the Greek name Eleutherius. Eleutherius is a cognate of the Greek word eleutheros (έλεύθερος) which means "free".

Luther is a given name of various origins, it is derived from the same surname and became a first name mainly in tribute of Martin Luther.

Luther was ordained to the priesthood in 1507. He came to reject several teachings and practices of the Roman Catholic Church; in particular, he disputed the view on indulgences. His refusal to renounce all of his writings at the demand of Pope Leo X in 1520 and the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V at the Diet of Worms in 1521 resulted in his excommunication by the pope and condemnation as an outlaw by the Holy Roman Emperor.

Lutheran theology differs from Reformed theology in Christology, divine grace, the purpose of God's Law, the concept of perseverance of the saints, and predestination.

Predestination, in Christian theology, is the doctrine that all events have been willed by God, usually with reference to the eventual fate of the individual soul.

Diego -

Wikipedia:

The name has long been interpreted as reanalysis of Santiago, from older Sant Yago "Saint Jacob," in English known as Saint James, as San-Tiago.

One of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus according to the New Testament. Saint James is the patron saint of Spain and, according to tradition, his remains are held in Santiago de Compostela in Galicia.

James is described as one of the first disciples to join Jesus. The Synoptic Gospels state that James and John were with their father by the seashore when Jesus called them to follow him. James was one of only three apostles whom Jesus selected to bear witness to his Transfiguration. James and John (or, in another tradition, their mother) asked Jesus to grant them seats on his right and left in his glory. Jesus rebuked them, asking if they were ready to drink from the cup he was going to drink from and saying the honor was not even for him to grant. The other apostles were annoyed with them. James and his brother wanted to call down fire on a Samaritan town, but were rebuked by Jesus.

The Acts of the Apostles records that "Herod the king" (usually identified with Herod Agrippa I) had James executed by the sword. Nixon suggests that this may have been caused by James's fiery temper, in which he and his brother earned the nickname Boanerges or "Sons of Thunder". F. F. Bruce contrasts this story to that of the Liberation of Saint Peter, and notes that "James should die while Peter should escape" is a "mystery of divine providence".

Didacus is recorded in the forms Diaco, Diago in the 10th century. The form Diego is first recorded in the late 11th century. Its original derivation from Didacus is uncertain, among other things because the shift from -ía- to -ié- is unexplained.

familyeducation.com:

The name Diego is of Spanish origin and means "supplanter." It is believed to be derived from the name Santiago, and in medieval times, Diego was Latinized as Didacus. It is believed Didacus derives from the Greek word didache, meaning "teaching."

dictionary.com:

Supplanter: noun. someone or something taking the place of another, as through force, scheming, strategy, or the like.

Allison -

Wikipedia:

Alison is primarily a female given name in English-speaking countries. It was originally a medieval French nickname for Alis, an old form of Alice derived with the suffix -on or -son sometimes used in the former French nicknames such as Jeanson ("little Jean") or Pierson ("little Pierre").

The name is first recorded in Scotland in the 12th century. It was popular until the early 19th century and, spelled Allison, was the 45th most common name given to baby girls in the United States in 2005

Allison also has separate, disputed roots as a family name.

Allison is a surname of English and Scottish origin. It was a patronym, in most cases probably indicating son of Allen, but in other cases possibly from Ellis, Alexander, or the female given name Alice/Alise.

The surname was first recorded in England in 1248, when a "William Alisun" is recorded in the Documents of the Abbey of Bee in Buckinghamshire. In Scotland, the earliest record dates from 1296, when "Patrick Alissone, Count of Berwick" paid homage to the ruling council of Scotland in the absence of a proclaimed king.

behindthename.com:

Allison: From the middle of the 20th century this has primarily been used as a variant of the feminine name Alison.

Alison: Norman French diminutive of Aalis (see Alice). It was common in England, Scotland and France in the Middle Ages, and was later revived in England in the 20th century via Scotland.

Alice: From the Old French name Aalis, a short form of Adelais, itself a short form of the Germanic name Adalheidis (see Adelaide). This name became popular in France and England in the 12th century. It was among the most common names in England until the 16th century, when it began to decline. It was revived in the 19th century.

Adelaide: Means "noble type", from the French form of the Germanic name Adalheidis, which was composed of the elements adal "noble" and heid "kind, sort, type". It was borne in the 10th century by Saint Adelaide, the wife of the Holy Roman emperor Otto the Great.

Klaus -

Wikipedia:

Klaus is a German, Dutch and Scandinavian given name and surname. It originated as a short form of Nikolaus, a German form of the Greek given name Nicholas.

The name is derived from the Greek name Νικόλαος (Nikolaos), understood to mean 'victory of the people', being a compound of νίκη nikē 'victory' and λαός laos 'people'. An ancient paretymology of the latter is that originates from λᾶς las (contracted form of λᾶας laas) meaning 'stone' or 'rock', as in Greek mythology, Deucalion and Pyrrha recreated the people after they had vanished in a catastrophic deluge, by throwing stones behind their shoulders while they kept marching on.

The name became popular through Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra in Lycia, the inspiration for Santa Claus.

In one of the earliest attested and most famous incidents from his life, he is said to have rescued three girls from being forced into prostitution by dropping a sack of gold coins through the window of their house each night for three nights so their father could pay a dowry for each of them. Other early stories tell of him calming a storm at sea, saving three innocent soldiers from wrongful execution, and chopping down a tree possessed by a demon.

Another famous late legend tells how he resurrected three children, who had been murdered and pickled in brine by a butcher planning to sell them as pork during a famine.

Five -

Wikipedia:

5 (five) is a number, numeral and digit. It is the natural number following 4 and preceding 6, and is a prime number. It has attained significance throughout history in part because typical humans have five digits on each hand.

Gerard Way's insta @/gerardway:

Maybe they'll learn the numbers don't matter, as Five did, which is why I feel he embraced his number as a name instead of a rank, and rejected an actual name (which I hope we see one day!).

Steve Blackman on Reddit Q&A:

Grace helped the kids choose names that were popular from their birth places. However, Five couldn't decide on one before getting lost in the apocalypse. Now, he just likes the name "Five".

Ben -

Wikipedia:

Ben is frequently used as a shortened version of the given names Benjamin, Benedict, or Benson, and is also a given name in its own right.

Ben (in Hebrew: בֶּן‎, Son of) forms part of surnames, e.g. Abraham ben Abraham (Hebrew: אברהם בן אברהם‎). Bar-, "son of" in Aramaic, is also seen, e.g. Simon bar Kokhba (Hebrew: שמעון בר כוכבא‎).

The Arabic "Bin" (بن) or "Ibn" (ابن) or "Ben" (dialectal Arabic) means "son of".

Benjamin is a popular given name for males, derived from Hebrew בִּנְיָמִין‎, Binyāmīn, translating as "son of the right [hand]", though in the Samaritan Pentateuch, the name appears as "Binyaamem": "son of my days".

Benjamin is often shortened to Ben, sometimes to Benny, Benj, or Benji. It is also a patronymic surname. Like many biblical names, it is popular in the Jewish, Christian and Muslim faiths alike, having many variant forms in other languages.

The "Benjamin of the family" is a phrase used in several languages to refer to the youngest son—especially when he is much younger than his brothers. Sometimes the name is chosen for a son born to mature parents unlikely to have more children, especially if he has several older siblings. Both of these usages derive from the biblical son of Jacob of that name, who occupied that position in his family. In some languages, by extension, it is also applied to the runt of a litter of animals.

Vanya -

Wikipedia:

Ваня (Vanya), a male or female diminutive of the Russian, Croatian, Serbian, Bulgarian and other Slavic given names Ivan or Ivana. It is the Russian, Serbian, Bulgarian and other Slavic form of John or Jane, itself derived from a Hebrew name, meaning "God is gracious" or "Gracious gift of God". An alternative spelling of the name is Vanja. In the Scandinavian countries and in Bulgaria, it is a female given name, in Bosnia and Herzegovina mainly a male given name, in Russia it is male given name, and in Serbia and Croatia it is a unisex name.

The play portrays the visit of an elderly professor and his glamorous, much younger second wife, Yelena, to the rural estate that supports their urban lifestyle. Two friends—Vanya, brother of the professor's late first wife, who has long managed the estate, and Astrov, the local doctor—both fall under Yelena's spell, while bemoaning the ennui of their provincial existence. Sonya, the professor's daughter by his first wife, who has worked with Vanya to keep the estate going, suffers from her unrequited feelings for Astrov. Matters are brought to a crisis when the professor announces his intention to sell the estate, Vanya and Sonya's home, with a view to investing the proceeds to achieve a higher income for himself and his wife.

Alone, Vanya wonders why he did not fall in love with Yelena when he first met her ten years before, when it would have been possible for the two to have married and had a happy life together. At that time, Vanya believed in Serebryakov's greatness and was happy that his efforts supported Serebryakov's work; now he has become disillusioned with the professor and his life feels empty.

Angrily, Vanya asks where he, Sonya, and his mother would live, protests that the estate rightly belongs to Sonya, and that Serebryakov has never appreciated his self-sacrifice in managing the property. As Vanya's anger mounts, he begins to rage against the professor, blaming him for the failure of his life, wildly claiming that, without Serebryakov to hold him back, he could have been a second Schopenhauer or Dostoevsky. In despair, he cries out to his mother, but instead of comforting her son, Maria insists that Vanya listen to the professor. Serebryakov insults Vanya, who storms out of the room. Yelena begs to be taken away from the country and Sonya pleads with her father on Vanya's behalf. Serebryakov exits to confront Vanya further. A shot is heard from offstage and Serebryakov returns, being chased by Vanya, wielding a loaded pistol. He fires the pistol again at the professor but misses. He throws the gun down in disgust and sinks into a chair.

The Tsar Bomba (Russian: Царь-бо́мба), (code name: Ivan or Vanya), also known by the alphanumerical designation AN602, was a hydrogen aerial bomb, and the most powerful nuclear weapon ever created and tested. Tsar Bomba was developed in the Soviet Union (USSR) by a group of nuclear physicists under the leadership of Igor Kurchatov, an academician of the Academy of Sciences of the Soviet Union.

[oraclekleo]

Lee Min Ho (Stray Kids) - Birthday Special Tarot Reading

Happy Birthday to Lee Know!

Disclaimer:

All readings have purely entertainment nature

I don’t know any of the celebrities personally

Don’t base life decisions purely on tarot readings

I can never guarantee any of what’s said in the reading

Before requesting, read the pinned post and appropriate linked post

Tarot readings are my hobby - I’m not obligated to accept any of the requests nor to complete them, it’s my choice, not duty

Waiting time is long, even several months

If you can’t wait, please, seek other tarot reader

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Deck: Tarot of the Divine + Starcodes Astro Oracle + Botanical Inspirations Oracle

Spread: Happy Birthday

Questions:

Cake (Something sweet to look forward to)

Candle (Bridges they should burn today)

Ice Cream (Cold hard truth they need to hear now)

Confetti (Blessings for them and the year ahead)

Gift (The achievement they can expect in the year ahead)

Happy Birthday to You (Positive affirmation for them)

Celebrity Info:

Full Name: Lee Min Ho

Stage Name: Lee Know

Group: Stray Kids

DOB: 25.10.1998

Sun Sign: Scorpio

Chinese Sign: Earth Tiger

Life Path Number: 8

Masterpost: Stray Kids

Ko-fi - Voluntary Tip for Readings

Lee Min Ho

Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Happy Birthday

Decks: Tarot of the Divine + Starcodes Astro Oracle + Botanical Inspirations Oracle

Spread: Happy Birthday

Cake (Something sweet to look forward to) - XIV Temperance + Uranus (Change) + Hydrangea (Thankfulness for Understanding)

Lee Know can look forward to reaching inner harmony and balance. His attitude is likely to change and become more peaceful in the upcoming year. He’s likely to undergo major changes for good. He’s likely to reach inner peace and become kinder and more understanding towards himself. He might realise that the kindness and respect he always has for others should be something he indulges himself in too. He might start to put his well-being a priority in order to heal past harms.

Candle (Bridges they should burn today) - V The Hierophant + Retrograde (Review)

Lee Know needs to let go of old anger, grudges and hurts he has suffered. It’s time to release them. He has been there, done that, got the metaphorical T-Shirt and now it’s time to put it behind him. It’s time for him to accept the fact that not all wrongs will be punished in life and that holding onto feelings of anger will damage him more than the ones who hurted him.

Ice Cream (Cold hard truth they need to hear now) - Ace of Coins + Gloxinia (Love at First Sight & Proud Spirit)

Whether Lee Know wants it or not, the truth is that some people left a footprint on his heart, they marked his soul and he will never ever be the same person he used to be before even if they leave. People we meet influence and shape us, no matter how we try to defy them. Sometimes it’s for our benefit, sometimes we end up scarred and bleeding and in tears. The point is to always learn something from the experience and do it better next time.

Confetti (Blessings for them and the year ahead) - 7 of Coins + Libra (Balance) + Crocus (Cheerfulness)

We mentioned before that Lee Know can look forward to reaching better inner balance and it’s reappearing here. Lee Know will finally learn to value his own work in a more mature and permanent way, he will get the necessary perspective to tell when it’s sensible to work hard and when it’s time to dismiss a project and better start fresh. He might look delicate and fragile on the outside at times but his core is cheerful and always seeing the good in everything.

Gift (The achievement they can expect in the year ahead) - VII The Chariot + Gemini (Cross-Pollinate) + Pink Rose (Grace & Sweetness)

Lee Know might actually do his dream collaboration project with someone in the year ahead of him. If he has been dreaming about teaming up with another artist, this year he’s likely to be successful as long as he thinks positive and keeps on networking and cultivating his professional relationships. In order to have sweet dreams at night we need to learn to have sweet thoughts before bedtime. Before Lee Know can collaborate with someone he admires, he needs to be certain about his goals and his skills.

Happy Birthday to You (Positive affirmation for them) - 6 of Swords + Honeysuckle (Domestic Happiness & Devoted Affection)

Words have power. And it applies to Lee Know’s words, too. Kind words go a long way and have healing power. He should never forget about that and always be thoughtful and supportive not only to others but to himself as well. Be kind to yourself, Lee Know. Speak with admiration and kindness about yourself because your words have the power to heal or harm and it depends on you which meaning you will give them.

Thank you for reading!

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