#but the network wanted the white woman

[ladysophiebeckett]

watched ‘cloudy with a chance of christmas’ and it was very annoying?? im just annoyed. ive not been romanced. ive not been wooed. or even made to be a little bit jolly. just....annoyed. 

[sgxena16]

I just binged NCIS: Hawai'i and I'm so bitter it got cancelled. This show is so good and deserves at least 8 seasons.

[gender-euphowrya]

US sitcoms special episodes are always stuff like "oooh crossover with another show" or "christmas thing ! halloween thing !" meanwhile french sitcom special episodes are like "our cast of goofy wacky characters is having an adventure in another country we are going to stereotype the fuck out of. you best pray we didn't pick an african one. we picked an african one"

[inkskinned]

nobody ever gets the mugshot of gluttony right. these days you think it has nothing to do with bodyweight. what a good trick: that gluttony could take a shape. no, there was never any fault in finishing a meal or in taking second helpings. it was always in taking from others that there was an issue - the oil baron's fingers steepled over dead bodies and stolen lands. gluttony - twin of greed, although most think greed and envy are the siblings - gluttony is pleased with the experience of gaining, is thrilled just-by-having. greed is the one that stays hungry, that has to move forever like a shark. gluttony likes it - "a glutton for punishment" is one who is seeking the harm, who loves the rush.

gluttony is a mother using her daughter's body for a diet testing ground, sharpening the bone angles. gluttony is saying why, well not! to the seventh and eighth mansion or yacht. it is not just wanting the six white horses, it is making sure that the horses came from your stables. it is not just bathing in milk - it is bathing in milk while others are starving.

oh, it's true that some sins still blaze in their bright floral prints. wrath in a white woman yelling at a person of color for even daring to be in her neighborhood. the red, incipient rage of a neck tightened at even the thought we would take the guns away. wrath has laurels, and she is good at her job, and works hard.

but sloth wasn't ever the sleepy morning of depression, the hours spent begging a clouded body to please move goddamn it; the protestant work ethic claiming even rest is somehow demonic. it was never chronic fatigue. sloth was subtle, a grey mist. she is watching you get bullied and she is deciding it is none of her business. she crosses the picket line because - what! it's just chicken, isn't it? she is closing her eyes and turning her head when the next anti-gay legislation passes. someone else will handle it. not the tense freeze of anxiety or a lack of preparation - she knows you're hurting and would rather you stay quiet about it. she tells other people i just don't see what the big deal is.

sloth is a father that doesn't do the dishes. sloth is your boyfriend's innocent shrug you're just better at household shit. sloth isn't the missed opportunity - it is the purposeful desire to just get-someone-else-to-do-it.

greed and envy are doing body shots in the back of a private jet. they are the way they always have been, but are lovers in the age of the internet. greed just finished union busting, is rolling a bitcoin over his knuckles, is about to start another MLM. envy is in a broadbrimmed hat, showing off her instagram life, grinning about how if you want it, work for it.

okay, it's true. you have a soft spot for lust, gathering dust in a corner. so tame in comparison to the others. but how funny lust is always painted as being a woman in tight clothes. you've met actually lustful women - the ones that purposefully climb into your partner's lap, the ones that say lesbians are gross but ask bisexual women into bed with their husbands. a lustful woman is not donned in lace and garters and red: that's how men think lust looks, painting their own sins into frame. this way, the sin displaces as fog and hovers above her: a woman in a dress is lust; what the man experiences is just the natural consequence.

here is the thing: lust is doing just fine, save your pity. lust is running more circles than any of them. lust is shutting down safe sexwork sites while also making teenagers in knee-high socks sex sensations. lust is CEO of an advertising network where women never pass 25 years old. all the bras lust makes are pretty to look at but, when worn, legitimately hurt. lust has a podcast, his fur coat looped around his shoulders, sells the idea that only certain people have value, that sex raises some and destroys others. lust is tilting his head and asking what did you expect when you dress like that? lust shuns you, sneers that everything you want is disgusting and taboo - right until he can figure out how to capitalize off of it. lust has the midas ability: everything he touches becomes an object.

people usually say wrath is the scary one. you agree with FMA here, though: the real dangerous one is pride, and the shit-eating grin. the white cloaks and the nationalism and the inability to apologize. it is every partner who threw a book at your head because you don't respect him. it is every mother who said my son doesn't deserve to have his life ruined over allegations. it is the teacher that fails you because you talked back.

you worry you have this one. you feel guilty when you need help but don't ask for it. prideful. ashamed when you complete something and feel good about it. too proud for your own good. but pride is not the reward of hard work or accomplishment: pride is a twitter feed. it is the thing that has to mask i didn't do anything with look at me.

pride is your father's raised hand, his raised voice. how he was never there when you needed him, but he is still "head of house." he ruins dinner and blames it on you: you're an embarrassment to this family. this is the glass you walk around, the cuts in your feet. how he says this isn't how i raised you and you have to bite back the retort: that's because you didn't actually fucking raise me.

[droaxa]

this game

✧tags: yandere cheater x reader pt. 3

✧warnings: kidnapping, bondage, MNDI, reader is touched inappropriately

✧a/n: hey guys this is gonna be the final part of my yandere cheater, i really appreciate all the love i've got so far and i'm excited to show you all what I thought up for the final bit! don't hate me too much for the end haha

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

The first sensation that hits you as you wake is a burning feeling in your throat. you shoot up immediately and go into a coughing fit, what happened? The second sensation is the blinding bright lighting, a harsh white compared to the soft yellow in your dorm. Your eyelids feel stuck as you try to open your eyes, almost as if they were glued together.

You force your eyes open and your surroundings alarm you, even in your drowsy state. This room clearly wasn't yours. In fact, it wasn't Raph's either. You knew his room, messy and boyish but not sterile and clean like this. You observe your surroundings, a mostly empty room with minimal items but all necessary furniture.

Then you locate the cause of the ache in your wrists; two tightly tied ropes connecting you to the bed frame. You try to pull away, hoping the knots will come loose but to no avail. Your legs are free unlike your arms, but bare. You're dressed in a large t-shirt, something you knew Raph owned and just your panties. You dreaded being exposed to Raph in such an intimate way, especially considering that he most likely changed you, but the thin layers were better than nothing.

As if hearing your silent plea that he shouldn't come through the door, Raph enters with the click of the lock unlatching. His smug, almost satisfied look makes you uneasy. What did he have planned for you?

"Finally up sweets? I was gettin' bored without ya" he drawls out, stalking closer to the bed with every step.

You inhale sharply and attempt to pull yourself into a sitting position by your wrists, not wanting to be lying down as that man approached you. But almost as if reading your mind, he crawls into the bed. Grabbing your ankle and pulling you down into a resting position with him over you.

"Uh uh" he tuts, "No runnin' away, but I mean-" he cracks a menacing grin. "It's not like there's anywhere to run to huh?"

Your eyebrows furrow as you plead with him, "Raph please, just let me go and I won't tell anyone what you did. If you have any love or at least respect for me, please let me go"

He cocks his head to the side as if thinking about your demand, then all of a sudden-

BAM!

He's on top of you, hands on either side of your head and legs keeping your legs down. "I'm doing this because I love you, can't you see? I know imma asshole for cheating but c'mon. Don't say you didn't miss me"

You scoff and hiss out your words, "Miss you? You're just a cheating lowlife and psycho who couldn't take what he dished out"

"Psycho?" He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks in the process. "Well yer life is in the hands of this psycho darling, so I'd watch what you say" He leans in even closer, his hair now tickling your forehead. "All I did was prove my love for you, getting rid of that bitch, taking care of my brother. They were all getting in between us"

You try to stay calm but tears start to form in your eyes, he was the one who tore you two apart. Not your friends or his brother. "It was you that got between us. Just because you tried to right your wrongs, in the worst way possible, doesn't mean I need to forgive you"

Like he was waiting for you to say that, he grins again "Forgive me? Oh, you'll be forgiving me soon"

He lifts up your body just enough to allow his larger one to fit under you, you were lying on him. Just like when you were together. His face rests on your shoulder as one of his hands grabs a remote off the bed stand next to the bed, arms encircling your waist with the remote in the front.

He then turns on the TV opposite of the bed, the news network flashes on screen.

A woman dressed in formal wear and a bun appeared at a mahogany desk, her face holding a solemn expression. "A horrible tragedy has struck the local university today" A picture of a university, no. Your university flashes on the screen. "A university student had been found in the dorms on campus, horribly injured" A picture of Ray flashes on screen. No.

"Thankfully, an anonymous tip earlier that day proved to save this young man's life as paramedics arrived on the scene just in time" She continues, "Sadly, he has fallen into a coma due to health complications. So please, we ask you to send your love and strength to this young man's family."

Her face looks sterner now, "The main suspect at the moment is a young woman who owned the dorm the student was found in" No, it can't be- "(y/n) is seemingly on the run at the moment, please notify your local police station if you see her in your city" A picture of you pops up. No, no no.

With that Raph clicks the TV off, grinning. "Oh wow, you really did all that (y/n)?"

You don't say anything, face frozen as you stare at the dark TV.

Raph catches onto your shock and coos in your ear, rough hands caressing your waist "Oh darling you're free to stay here, I mean it's not like you have anywhere else to go"

You turn your head toward him to the best of your abilities and blurted out, "What did you do"

His eyebrows raise as his grin widens, "I didn't do anything, not my fault you decided to move to such a low-security dorm. I mean, no cameras or security guards? Besides, who would believe you?"

You spit out your words with venom, "My parents will, my friends will, Ray will. You won't escape this"

"Oh really, the same parents who are countries away? The same friends who fucked your boyfriend? Don't get me started on Ray, but it's not like that vegetable can say anything"

Your hope starts to diminish, he was somewhat right. Your so-called 'friends' would never vouch for you. It would be a miracle if your parents would come in time to help your case; even if they did, the odds were stacked against you.

And Ray, poor Ray. He didn't deserve this, he deserved the life he always dreamed about. The little farmhouse in the countryside, a beautiful wife, and a few kids. Even if it wasn't with you, he deserved it and so much more.

You couldn't ignore the feeling of Raphs body beneath yours, his hands gripping you. Was this the way it would end? Hopelessly alone, doomed to be unhappy? The one you loved was battling death, barely alive and here you were: unable to to anything but cry.

Were you crying? You snap out of your daze to a strange wetness on your cheeks, salty moistness. Did you deserve to cry? What could you have done differently to stop this? Would things be different if you had never initiated something with Ray, if you had stayed with Raph, if you had never come to this university?

But the hot breath hitting your neck told you everything you needed to know, this was your now, your forever. Trapped in the arms of your merciless captor, one who wouldn't spare even his own family.

Forever bound to misery, the only witness of your downward spiral would be the cold walls of this house. Funny, how it only took a few hours to strip you of everything you were. All that was left now was a husk, a memory of what was before.

Perhaps, he really had won.

a/n: so ik you guys wanted to keep ray alive and technically i did, but i may or may not have twisted it a bit haha. i consider this ending the true ending but i'll take suggestions to write shorter stories on the alternate paths the reader could have gone down to change their fate!

[sleepynoons]

In Another Life

You get unjustly kidnapped by Bonten because your ex-boss fucking sucks. Ran saves your ass but leaves Sanzu with the responsibility of watching over you. All you want is to be alive and happy with your child. But does Sanzu even care about protecting you? And if he does, do you… care about him? What happens if he wants to become a part of your family?

Will you let him into your life?

bonten!sanzu x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+

word count: ~9,600

cw: manga spoilers, single parenting/single parent!au, explicit language, suggestive content, depictions of violence/pain/injuries/drugs/alcohol/etc., mentions of domestic violence + abusive relationships, hurt/no comfort

notes: lmk if i missed anything in the warnings. cross-posted on ao3. this story means a lot to me, i hope you'll give it a try.

edit: tysm for 100+ notes y'all are making me cry, really appreciate all the support <333

SANZU LEAVES the bakery with a few bags of dorayaki tucked underneath his arm. He’s running ahead of schedule – he still has half an hour before Mikey expects him –, so he meanders through Tokyo's network of dark alleyways and hidden shortcuts.

He walks and walks and walks, letting his feet guide him wherever. He’s been working in the streets for long enough. He’ll know how to find his way back to Bonten’s headquarters no matter where he ends up.

He makes a left turn, a sharp right, two more left turns, until he hears the buzz of a nearby shopping district. He follows the sounds of people hustling about and finds a narrow path between two shops to slip through. He can see people walking by at the end of the path, but he doesn’t enter the busy streets, opting to observe and watch the crowds fluctuate instead.

And then he sees you. Clad in a flowing beige dress with a white t-shirt layered underneath, you’re staring off into the distance as the wind ruffles your hair. You’re laughing at something or someone, but as he tries to get a better look at you, a rush of shoppers streams past and blocks his view.

He slips a cigarette out of his back pocket, lights it, and breathes out a puff of smoke as he chuckles. When he glances back into the crowd, you’re gone. He turns around to retrace his haphazard path. Mikey likes his dorayaki warm.

–

Two weeks later, when Mikey’s supply of dorayaki has dwindled to a dangerous low, Sanzu returns to the usual bakery, accompanied by Ran this time.

The two are close colleagues, though Sanzu thinks “close” is too intimate of a description. Sanzu likes to keep people at arm's length away. Close enough to build cohesive, mechanical teamwork but not enough to skip pleasantries and create personal connections.

Sanzu is outside of the bakery, scrolling through his phone and tapping his foot as he waits for Ran. The latter always liked taking his time, and Sanzu’s patience was wearing thin. Luckily, his colleague walks out a few moments later. Sanzu is about to shoot a snarky comment when he notices that Ran is conversing with a woman.

It takes a few moments for Sanzu to remember who you are.

“Sanzu!” Ran calls happily. “Can you unlock the car?” Sanzu rolls his eyes before he slips the car keys out of his pocket. “Oh, and let me introduce you!”

You bow, offering your name and a few compliments to Sanzu’s suit. You wear a neat smile as you wait for his response. Sanzu, too, says his name and a brief “thank you,” all while avoiding eye contact.

Ran continues, “She goes to this shop regularly, as well. I wonder why we’ve never met before.” You nod in agreement before dismissing yourself, bidding the two a good rest of their day.

As Sanzu and Ran drive back to headquarters, Ran asks, “You know her?”

Sanzu groans before curtly responding, “No.” Ran hums, a smirk tugging at his lips, but does not press his pink-haired colleague any further.

It’s not like Sanzu was lying. He didn’t know you. He just saw you sometimes, and neither of you bothered to say anything when you did see each other.

However, after this interaction, you and Sanzu begin to cross paths frequently, always at the bakery every other Saturday at 8 AM sharp, when the dorayaki are almost out of the oven and the toasted pastries are being shelved.

Sanzu notices the pastries, such as the mango croissants and berry-filled sandwiches, because he always lets you order at the counter first. You always buy a lot. You carry at least two bags of food home, yet you never struggle with the weight.

He also notes the smooth lilt of your voice when you speak with the bakers. You seem to know the staff well, and he finds himself entranced by the highs and lows of your giggles, sassy retorts, and sincere praise.

You speak in the same sweet manner with him, which initially surprised him until he remembered that you aren’t aware of his occupation or lack of a moral compass. Although your exchanges are limited to questions of “How are you?” and “Any plans for today?”, he finds himself relaxing and basking in the casual nature of your exchanges. Usually, he replies to strangers with one or two words, but he comes to appreciate your lighthearted aura and matches the flow of the conversation.

And when the two of you part ways, you always say goodbye with a full smile, and with a few waves of your hand, you cross the street and disappear from his line of vision.

But Sanzu is not a consistent man (aside from his unwavering loyalty to Mikey), and his routines are often disrupted or forgotten. So when Sanzu finds you in one of Bonten’s warehouses, he mentally chides himself for being caught off guard. He switches gears and replaces his agitation with doubt and suspicion.

“What’s going on?” Sanzu asks Takeomi. His older brother huffs out a puff of smoke while handing him a thin laminated folder of photos and information.

As Sanzu flips through the documents, Takeomi speaks. “A client tried to rat us out. We captured a few of his employees to see if anyone knows anything.”

Sanzu hands the folder back before redirecting his gaze onto the kneeling employees. There are five in total – some of them shivering from the cold, others frightened still, all duct taped across the mouth. He narrows in on you for a second, observing the creases in your forehead and the tears that slip down your cheeks. His hands twitch.

“Did we get anything yet?” Sanzu asks again.

“Nothing so far. It’s a shame that we’ll have to kill them off,” Takeomi replies, though there’s very little remorse in his voice. It can’t be helped, Sanzu thinks, but he feels disappointment course through his body. He ponders on a compromise but drops the idea. Work is work, and you are no exception to Bonten’s procedures. All witnesses had to be killed, and Sanzu is not one to disobey Mikey’s orders.

But not all of the executives are as stringent as he is. Ran and Rindou saunter into the warehouse, and of course, the older Haitani bursts out with a joyful greeting when he sees you. You startle at his presence, and Sanzu can tell your shock and disbelief when your eyes widen. If your mouth wasn’t forced shut, your jaw would’ve dropped open as well.

Ran walks over to you and begins to untie the ropes binding your wrists, knees, and ankles.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Takeomi yells. A few ashes from his cigarette drift to the floor.

“Can we keep this one?” Ran yells back. “I like them!” Takeomi only scowls, peering at Mikey’s back. After waiting for a few moments, Bonten’s leader doesn’t react, and Ran smiles gleefully. Sanzu releases a breath he doesn’t remember holding. He reminds himself to maintain professionalism again. However, the more he stares at you panting and heaving, the more overcome he is by an itching need to take you somewhere far, far away.

“No.” He blurts without thinking, surprising Ran and Takeomi.

“Uh, sorry?”

“No, we’re not keeping her.” Ran knows not to argue against Bonten’s No. 2, but he huffs and crosses his arms, a scowl on his face.

“Then what else can we do to make sure she doesn’t say anything if we can’t kill her?” Takeomi asks. Sanzu doesn’t have an answer.

After discussing with Mikey, Takeomi, and Kakucho, Sanzu is tasked with the responsibility of checking in on you every two days. You aren’t opposed to the idea – not that you have a choice –, and you are escorted home by Sanzu soon after being notified of your release.

During the drive home, Sanzu asks you questions, gathering information and noting interesting tidbits. You’re the same age as him, a simple employee of a large corporation with a corrupt Board of Directors, and, to his surprise, have a five-year-old daughter.

While Sanzu has acquired many skills fit for a criminal, negotiating and speaking tactfully has yet to be something he is capable of.

“And the father?”

You glance out the window. “Ran away.”

“Why?”

You shrug. He clicks his tongue.

“Can I ask a question, if you don’t mind?” you ask.

After a few seconds of silence, you continue, “What’s going to happen to my coworkers?”

“They’re dead.”

The rest of the ride is silent, as well as the walk up to the third floor of your apartment complex. Sanzu needed to know where you lived, and the easiest way was to escort you to your home. However, before you slip inside your room, you turn around to face him.

Sanzu freezes.

Your eyes are fierce, an icy flame burning in your eyes. Your pupils dilate, more color than white, and you glare at him for a few moments. Then, in a level – almost cold and condescending – voice, you say, “My daughter will be protected.” Sanzu swallows, surprised at your intensity, before nodding once. You smile at his affirmation, though it doesn’t reach your eyes, and bid him farewell.

–

As promised, Sanzu visits you every two days. Most of the time, he simply drops by in the morning before you leave for work and says a quick greeting. You usually rush to the door from the kitchen, wearing a black apron covered with flour and powdered sugar. On Saturdays, the two of you visit the bakery together.

“Where’s your kid?” he asked once.

“Oh, I sent her to daycare already.”

“Even on the weekends?”

“She used to only stay for the mornings, but now she stays until lunch.” Sanzu is about to inquire about the change before it clicks.

“I must be keeping you,” he mutters and rubs his nape. Sanzu rarely apologizes, even implicitly, but he’d never wish for a child to suffer from neglect as he did.

“No, no, not at all! My daughter loves the daycare and her friends there. Besides, I like our time together.” You pat his shoulder before wrapping your hands around one of his. “You make my Saturday mornings.”

The way you effortlessly say “together” and hold his hand baffles him. He’s part of a major yakuza group. He killed your coworkers. By pure association, you and your daughter would forever be in danger. Furthermore, even if Sanzu wasn’t a higher-up in Bonten, it’s not like he’s an upstanding individual with a healthy lifestyle.

Sanzu had his fair share of relationships, though they were all very noncommittal and ended as soon as he shot them in the head. It’s not like he wanted to kill them, but whenever he was caught on the couch doing drugs, they always threatened to report him, and he didn’t want to waste time behind bars. Besides, he never considered a single one of them as a lover.

While you showed a lack of shock or discomfort whenever he visited on his more… spent mornings, Sanzu knew you would be no different. Out of best interests of both of you, Sanzu knew he should keep his distance.

But that’s kind of hard to do when you see someone so often, and Sanzu doesn’t realize it until Mikey calls him over.

“Sanzu, what’s this?” Hand steadying the tsuka of his katana, Sanzu turns around and faces his boss, who is sitting behind an ebony wood desk. A brown paper bag dangles from Mikey’s fingertips.

“Is that not dorayaki?” Mikey pulls out a large cream puff covered in powdered sugar and condensed milk.

Sanzu’s eyes widen. His job is to follow Mikey’s orders as they are delivered. Providing excess was as shameful as underperforming.

“My apologies, I must have grabbed it by accident.”

“I never knew you liked sweets.”

I don’t, Sanzu thinks. But he sure as hell knows who does.

“Do you want me to get more dorayaki tomorrow?”

Mikey looks at the clock before he tosses the bag into Sanzu’s unexpecting hands.

“You’re done for tonight.” Sanzu’s heart weighs a ton, acting almost akin to a kicked puppy. He has strived for years to become his boss’ right-hand man, yet he has failed at one of his most basic, routine tasks. “And bring more of those cream puffs in the morning.” Sanzu nods, refusing to disappoint Mikey further, and leaves the office to head toward the garage.

In the driver’s seat, the executive pulls out his phone. It wouldn’t hurt to try, he thinks. He calls you. It rings for a few moments, but you eventually pick up with a soft “Sanzu?”.

“I’m heading over to your place,” and he’s backing out.

Sanzu’s not sure why he’s in a rush. Probably ‘cause of Mikey, he convinces himself. But he’s also aware of the time. It’s a little past midnight, so your kid’s probably asleep.

When he appears in front of your entrance, he doesn’t even need to ring the buzzer before you throw the door open.

“Is something wrong?!” You’re heaving, hair messy from sleep and blue-light glasses slipping from the arch of your nose.

“I should be asking you that,” Sanzu replies.

“You’re the one who called me and said that you were coming over with no context! Is something wrong?” Your cheeks are flushed with exasperation, and he can’t help but stare at you with slight amusement. Sanzu gestures to come in, and you scramble to get out of the way.

“Your kid,” he says as he takes off his shoes, “what’s her name again?”

“Chizu.” You’re really glaring at him now, with cheeks puffed out, and Sanzu thinks this entire situation is comedic. “Why are you asking me that?”

“You know, people would usually ask why before answering.” He takes another glance at your stiff figure before continuing. “Anyway, I accidentally bought a cream puff from the bakery this morning, and I remember you telling me once that Chizu enjoyed these.”

“That’s all?”

Sanzu hums in affirmation.

You relax, relieved that it isn’t an emergency and even a little touched that he remembered what you said. Before you can thank the pink-haired man, a door cracks open.

Your little girl whines. “Mommy, you’re loud.”

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart. I was just doing some paperwork in the kitchen. I’ll be more careful, alright?” You crouch down to embrace your daughter, but your shoulders aren’t wide enough to hide Chizu’s line of sight from Sanzu.

As a result, the little girl is wide awake. She wriggles out of your hug, darts under your open arms, and speeds toward the man.

“What’s your name?”

Sanzu looks at you, and you grimace with a weak apology. Sighing, he squats down and decides to indulge the little girl.

“My name is Haruchiyo. It’s nice to meet you, Chizu.” Your daughter gasps in delight, excited that this stranger already knows her.

“How do you know my name? Who told you?”

Sanzu chuckles at her awe. “Your mom always talks about you.”

“So you’re Mommy’s friend? I thought Mommy doesn’t have friends.” You cringe a little.

“Your mom is very proud of you, so be nicer to her, alright?” Sanzu tries to pat the little girl’s head but ruffles her hair instead. He then gets up and ambles toward the door.

Taking his cue, you also rise and shuffle towards the door. “It’s getting late, Chizu. Go back to bed.”

Before the two of you even notice, Chizu’s tugging at Sanzu’s slacks, little balls of fists wrinkling the fabric. “Haru, stay!” Sanzu struggles to hide his annoyed groan, and you struggle to convince your daughter to let go.

“Haru, stay! You’re Mommy’s friend, so you have to stay!” Chizu’s whining transforms into loud pleas, and when she gets this way, you know the only way to appease her is to give her what she wants.

“Haru…,” you mouth. “One night wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

Sanzu shoots you a deadpan look, and you return with a steady one.

Finally, he gives. Chizu’s sobs were grating his ears, and driving back to his cold and empty condo was just not worth the effort.

“Stop spoiling the brat,” he mutters through gritted teeth as the two of you lead Chizu back to her room.

–

You haven’t woken up next to someone in years. Chizu is already 5-years-old, meaning it has been almost six years since your ex-boyfriend left you.

It’s early, sometime between four and five in the morning. Sanzu is snoring next to you, and you’re extremely tempted to brush out his bangs. You’re unsure if your need to touch the man comes from a place of genuine attraction or of chronic loneliness. So you settle down and decide to admire him as you wait for sleep to take over once again. You notice that Sanzu looks like he’s in pain when he’s asleep.

–

Sanzu hasn’t woken up next to someone in years. He never let any of his previous girlfriends stay the night (probably another reason why they always wanted to break up).

It’s early, probably a little past seven. Much of his job and Bonten’s activities happened at night, so he usually would never wake up until afternoon the next day. He only wakes up at nine in the morning every other Saturday.

You’re sleeping on your side, one arm folded into your chest and the other draped over the blanket. He wonders how you’re breathing because half of your face is smothered into the pillow, but he doesn’t question it because you’re constantly exceeding his expectations. Sanzu feels the urge to get up and cover your dangling leg with more of the blanket. Yet he decides against it; jostling the bed might wake you up. So he waits for sleep to take over once again.

–

The next time the two of you meet is two days later in the lobby of your apartment complex. Sanzu spots you first and waits for you to notice him. You do a few moments later, after shuffling a crumpled folder into your shoulder bag. You manage a weak smile and try to smooth down the wrinkled front of your blazer as you shuffle over to his side.

You greet, “Late night?”

Sanzu snorts. “Always.” You wait. You’ve always thought Sanzu’s eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue, but you have a much clearer view as the man stares at you. It’s an electrifying, piercing blue – bright and almost neon. “The boss wants to see you.”

You choke. And barely manage to sputter, “Boss? You mean, your boss?”

“He wants to know how to bake bread.”

“Oh.”

Very normal. Your average neighborhood (and potentially national) yakuza boss wants to bake. Just another day.

Next thing you know, you’re in front of a large apartment building that screams elitism from the gold engravings on the steel fence to the three large cherub fountains in the center of the courtyard.

“This is where the boss stays most of the time.” As the two of you ride to the top floor of the complex, Sanzu explains to you that this entire section of the prefecture is owned by Bonten. Many of the executives live here or nearby for ease of communication, as Tokyo is the organization’s center of operations.

Given all of that information, you expected more… grandeur. There should have been dozens of guards, weapons out in plain moonlight, and security checks to prevent you from exposing Bonten.

As soon as the elevator door opens, Ran rushes over and waves enthusiastically. “Good to see you again!” he exclaims.

You wave in return and take his hand, following his lead as he guides you to the entrance of Mikey’s home. Sanzu trails behind the two of you, accompanied by another man who has the same tattoo as Ran.

“You know, I would’ve never expected the boss to be interested in cooking! Mikey is a disaster in the kitchen – actually, he’s horrible at housework in general. All of us executives have to clean up after him,” Ran says.

Again, you assumed Mikey’s home would be rich with glamor and sparkle. But the interior is quite minimalist, or rather, it’s empty. You try your best to listen to Ran, but your eyes wander around. From the entrance, aside from a leather couch and a glass dining table, there are no other decorations or items with sentimental value in sight.

Approaching the living room, you are faced with four more men. They offer stiff nods before glancing over at the hunched figure sitting in front of the kitchen island.

“Boss,” Sanzu calls.

No response.

Still nothing.

Not a word or move.

You suck in a breath. You speak in as steady of a voice as you can. “Thank you –”

You feel the second-in-command glare holes into you as he threatens, “Stop –”

“Let her finish.”

You glance at the figure. “Thank you for having me.” A few moments of silence pass, and you ask, “What kind of bread would you like to eat?”

“Mikey wants to bake,” Sanzu grits out through clenched teeth.

“I know.” You turn around and give him a stern glare before looking back at the boss. “But it’s important to make something you want to eat. Isn’t that the point?”

Mikey slides out of his chair. With bated breath, you watch as he meanders towards you, head bowed and hands tucked into his pant pockets.

“Cream puffs.” Mikey’s voice is quiet and low. Smooth but gravelly and rough whenever he finishes a sentence.

Cream puffs aren’t a type of bread, you think. But of course, you’d never say that out loud.

“Cream puffs sound wonderful.” You smile, even though you know Mikey can’t see you. “We should get started then.”

“Well,” Ran interrupts, “we don’t have any ingredients.”

You spin around. “We don’t have anything?”

Ran shakes his head.

“Sanzu.” You turn toward the pink-haired executive. “Do you think food appears out of thin air?”

“Huh? Of course not – What the actual –”

“I’ll text you a list of things we need. Go to the grocery store. Now.”

Sanzu spews confused curses and retorts at you as Ran laughs and drags him out of the apartment. The other executives trail behind, sharing an unspoken understanding that nothing will be accomplished unless they go, too.

Only you and Mikey remain. The latter stands in front of you as you text Sanzu ingredients. You even momentarily forget about the boss as you mutter under your breath and cross-check your list with other recipes.

Mikey watches. But Mikey has never been one to beat around the bush.

He says your name after you send the text.

“Yes?”

“You can be with Sanzu, as long as he prioritizes his work.”

Though you are confused, you opt to nod.

“Be prepared to lose him.”

Mikey pulls out his phone from another pocket and dials a number. “I’m going to sleep. Take her home.”

Throughout the rest of the evening, you repeat Mikey’s words over and over again in your head, flipping them inside out, bending them backward and forward. Mikey’s words are like a shiny coin. You examine the contents of its surface and circumference, searching for a deeper meaning - was there a secret message? a signal or nuance? - if it even existed.

I can’t lose him if I never had him, you think. It’s been a few months since that evening in the icy warehouse, and you’re acutely aware that Sanzu has eased his way into your life. You make his morning coffee (with no sugar and soy milk) along with yours, and during the times when he checks in on you at night, he stays in the car as you pick up your daughter. As a result, even Chizu has taken an extreme curiosity toward the man, and Sanzu has to stay over until the little girl falls asleep. Most of the time, Sanzu half-heartedly listens to Chizu’s chattering, but if he’s feeling generous (which you can tell when he lets your daughter cling onto him), he also reads her a bedtime story or two.

You realize: Losing Sanzu wouldn’t just hurt you – it would also damage Chizu, and she was already being bullied for having a single mother.

Recently, thinking about Chizu has left you feeling a little restless. Don’t get it twisted – you’re damn proud of yourself. You have a comfortable, plush home, enough nutritious food for three meals every day, and Chizu’s going to attend a well-established elementary school next year. You’ve done well, and you know some things are out of your control, but your accomplishments can’t always shield you from negativity and doubt. Sometimes, you think, it’d be nice if you had someone to lean on.

–

“What’s going on?” You notice that Sanzu’s fingers are tapping erratically on the steering wheel. He’s also glaring at the red light. “Well? Out with it,” he sneers.

“Chizu’s getting bullied.”

A vein appears on Sanzu’s temple, and you’re not sure if you should be more intrigued or scared by his reaction.

He curses and says, “Let me guess. The kids find it weird she doesn’t have a dad?” Your silence is all the affirmation he needs as the light turns green, and he makes the left turn to Chizu’s daycare.

When you buckle Chizu into her booster seat, Sanzu turns around.

“Kid.”

Chizu stops her chattering. “My name’s Chizu.”

“Squirt, if the other kids pick on you for only having a mom, tell them that you’re goddamn proud that she’s your mom, alright?” Chizu nods enthusiastically and pecks your cheek. “Also,” Sanzu continues, “just say that I’m your dad. That’ll shut ‘em up.”

“OK!”

You panic. You hurry back to your seat, and as Chizu babbles about her day, you look at Sanzu with concerned eyes. He gives you one unbothered side glance, and his eyes are trained back on the road.

The two of you don’t talk until a little past one in the morning. You finished up some last-minute tasks, and Chizu is in deep sleep. To avoid waking her up, though, you usher Sanzu into your bedroom, only leaving the door open by a crack just in case.

“Why did you tell Chizu you’re her dad?”

“To get the other brats to zip it.”

“Do you know what it means to be a dad?”

Sanzu thinks for a moment. “No, but at least I know what a dad shouldn’t be.”

You touch a hand to his cheek. “I see. You don’t have to explain if you…”

Sanzu’s lost in thought, deciding whether or not to tell you.

The man sighs. “I had a younger sister. Her name was Senju, and she was just as annoying and clingy as Chizu. We were raised by our older brother – you saw him at Mikey’s place, the man with the large facial scar. I hate to admit it, but when Senju was around, it felt like we were a family.

“Looking back, I think the reason why Senju was so needy was because our parents were never around. I don’t give a shit about trauma or whatever, but it makes sense. She just wanted someone to care for her. We didn’t get bullied for it, though, because our older brother would throw cigarette butts at whoever tried to, and besides, our neighborhood was full of broken families and kids. Chizu’s just a fucking loud twat, so she needs someone to defend her.

“I’m not saying you’re a shitty mom, but you’re busy. You can’t defend your kid if you’re nose-deep in work 24/7.”

“Sure,” you say. You choose your next words carefully. “But… how is a Bonten executive like you any different?”

“I’ll just be a big, scary dog. I’m not actually going to be Chizu’s dad.”

“That’s not what you told her, though.”

“Huh?”

“You told Chizu that you’ll be her dad. She’s going to think you’re going to stay around and act like the father figure she never had.” You reach out and pinch Sanzu’s arm. “Don’t go back on your word.”

Sanzu swats away your hand and, with a clenched jaw, acquiesces. “Fine.”

–

You’ve never been good with confrontation. Confrontation made you lose your ex-boyfriend and all the support from your family, and you were never really good at it anyway. If anything, you prefer time to wash all the tension away and resolve things. But the present issue is entirely new to you, and your impulse is split between wanting to scream your emotions at a plaster wall or burying them so deep that even you would eventually forget they existed.

It’s been two weeks since Sanzu declared himself as Chizu’s father. Since then, both of you have decided on rules and boundaries and resumed your daily routines. The only difference is that Sanzu spends all of his free time with you and your daughter, meaning he’s over more often. As a result, you’ve only become more and more aware of the Bonten executive, and you fear that you’re overexerting your heart.

There’s no way you could tell Sanzu what you’re experiencing. You’re worlds apart, you remind yourself. Despite your gentle chiding, the side of you that wants to confess and lay out everything to Sanzu only grows stronger with each passing day. So what do you do? How do you manage all the butterflies, goosebumps, and icy hot chills that appear at the mere thought of Sanzu?

You throw yourself into work.

It’s fall in Japan, which means job-hunting season. After very little consideration and hesitation, you go job-searching. Spending hours researching, revising your resume, and developing your portfolio were practical and easy ways to divert your attention, and after two months of cold-emailing and passing interviews, you land a stellar job as a marketing manager for an expanding restaurant chain.

Not only did you get to work a job that combined two of your main passions, but the paychecks are also heftier. That night, to celebrate the wonderful news, you crack open a can of beer as Chizu sleeps. Just a small reward, you think smugly.

“You drink?”

You glance at the door where Sanzu is untying his loafers as you chug down your second glass. You hum a little, which echoes inside the cup.

“Let me have some.” Before you can contest, Sanzu swipes the beer can and swallows the remaining liquid before letting out a relieved sigh. He then stalks to your fridge, pulls out four more cans, and sets them down at the dining table.

Usually, you would’ve snarled at anyone who touched your drinks. You rarely drink, so your stash is always limited to your favorites. With a shrug, you let Sanzu off - only because you’re in a good mood.

As you refill your glass, you ask, “You’re back early. Is something wrong?”

“None of your business.”

You’ve come to realize that when Sanzu says that, he doesn’t mean it in a rude manner. Taking it literally, he’s right. None of the work he does is legal or ethical, and hearing about the number of people he killed today would ruin your mood immediately.

“Why are you drinking?” he grunts.

You smirk before replying, “I got a new job. It’s also close to Chizu’s daycare, so we don’t have to rush to pick her up. If you can’t drive us, we can always fetch a cab home.” Sanzu mumbles something, but it’s muffled as he downs another large gulp.

At this point, both of you are a little tipsy. You giggle at Sanzu’s slurred stories of his middle school days, and he listens to you as you share memories of when Chizu was a toddler.

“You know,” he says, “you’re so much more different from what I imagined.”

“How so?”

“When I first saw you, I thought you were just this little pretty thing. You were wearing this white dress or whatever, and you were just standing there under the sunlight.” You have no idea what he’s talking about.

You feel a little more sober. “Are you… disappointed now that you’ve gotten to know me better?”

Sanzu perks up at your question and shakes his head from side to side, over and over again. You throw your head back and laugh. He’s adorable when he’s inebriated.

“I like independent women,” Sanzu says.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the fact that Sanzu isn’t looking you unabashedly in the eye like he normally does, but you slide to the edge of your seat and lean your head on his shoulder.

As expected, Sanzu tenses up and shoots you a hesitant glare. Somewhere in the back of your head, you know that you’re playing with fire, but you’ve given up on lying to yourself a long time ago. You like Sanzu, you want him, and all you need right now is closure.

Finally, you ask, “Do you like me?” You wait for Sanzu to shrug you off, to bark a clear rejection, and to leave your home. But a few moments pass, and the silence enables you to hear his shallow breaths. When he continues to remain still, you look up at him.

Instead of seeing a scowl, Sanzu’s face is flushed pink, and the tips of his ears are a cherry red.

“Sanzu?” you breathe.

Nothing.

“Don’t tell me that you’re so drunk that you have paralysis.”

You get out of your seat and head towards the bathroom to grab a warm towel. You pout as you wring the towel out. You were expecting a straightforward answer from Sanzu, but his lack of one is getting your hopes up.

When you return, Sanzu is slightly hunched over while he scrolls through his phone.

“Are you feeling better?” You approach the pink-haired man. He looks up, and you take this chance to hold his chin up with one hand and wipe his forehead with the other. Sanzu sits there, unmoving and basking in the warmth and gentleness of your hold.

Sanzu decides to act when you begin to retract your hands. He reaches for the wrist holding the wet towel and pulls you in until you’re standing between his legs.

“I do.” He speaks so calmly yet so confidently, and it takes you a few seconds to process.

A wave of relief, sadness, and adoration overwhelms you. You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the rough pads of his fingers wipe at the corner of your eyes. You blubber an apology or two, but you only begin to sob harder. Still vigilant of Chizu, though, you attempt to muffle yourself by placing the towel over your mouth.

Sanzu pulls you onto his lap and continues to brush away your tears. His expression hasn’t changed, but it’s the most serious he’s ever looked in front of you, and that’s all it takes for you to break down and hand him the broken pieces of your heart.

–

You wake up with a gasp. You sit up, accidentally throwing off the arm that’s wrapped around your shoulders, and gulp deep breaths.

Sanzu wakes up, too, and groans unhappily.

“What are you doing?” he croaks. “Go back to bed.”

“I would -” You cough a little and rub at your throat. “I would if someone wouldn’t hold onto me for dear life.” You continue to gulp deep breaths before you lie back down. This time, Sanzu’s arm slips down and wraps itself around your waist, dispelling your disgruntled expression. He mumbles something along the lines of “Better now?”, and you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck in return.

Sanzu yawns. “Is Chizu staying home today?”

“She has a sleepover tonight, so I’ll drop her off in the afternoon.” You’re falling back asleep so your voice trails off at the end of your sentence.

Sanzu is, too, but he manages to say, “I’m glad she’s having fun,” before he’s out like a light.

Because Chizu was out for the weekend, you spent your Saturday grocery shopping and deep cleaning the apartment. Sanzu was also busy with work, but he said he would be back at night.

Just the notion of the two of you being alone makes you nervous, and you slip a few times on the wet kitchen floor when you lose yourself in the thought. You’re excited and nervous, eager and yearning, but hesitant and self-conscious. A large part of Bonten’s operations occurred in underground nightclubs and bars, so Sanzu has seen his fair share of charming girls. You’ve never been insecure about your body, even after having Chizu, but the possibility that you can’t compete with Sanzu’s previous flings sends a nauseating ache to the pit of your stomach.

When Sanzu arrives just in time for dinner, the anxiety persists, but you’re grateful that he doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, Sanzu acts normal. He complains about his colleagues and the inflation of gas prices; he cusses and mutters colorful insults at the coffee table when he stubs his toe; and most importantly, he only touches you when you initiate.

That’s something you never expected from him, truth be told. Sanzu, though caring in his ways, is brutish. Demanding. While you hoped he wouldn’t take you by force, he hasn’t asked you for any physical affection, and you like to take pride in the fact that he treats you with unspoken respect. Only when you reach your arm out onto the dinner table does he hold his hand out to intertwine your fingers together. When you’re watching some comedy show on the bed, he ruffles your hair when you poke his shoulder. Even after kissing him, he simply holds your hip before letting you go as you pull away.

“Did that feel alright?” you whisper.

Why do you feel so ashamed? You’ve kissed people before. You’ve been loved before. So why is it that you can’t bear to look at Sanzu?

Sanzu lets out a snort and proceeds to kiss you again.

“Did that feel alright?” he mocks, smirk and snark crystal clear in his voice. “Of fucking course it did.”

To others, his response could’ve been entirely inappropriate. To you, however, it was hilarious. You crack up, letting out staccato huffs of laughter, and you feel the corners of your eyes crinkle up.

“Now you know how ridiculous you sound,” he says. Sanzu chuckles under his breath before setting your laptop on the night table and moving you over so that he’s now hovering over your body.

He asks, “What else are you worried about?” He’s still smirking, confident in his ability to rid you of your worries, and your self-esteem begins to return as well.

“I was just overthinking,” you admit. You gesture a little bit, trying to find the right words to explain, but you end up smiling sheepishly at Sanzu.

Sighing, he shakes his head and pinches at your cheeks. “Don’t.”

You laugh again and encircle your arms around his neck, pecking him to express your gratitude. But this time, his hand sneaks up your back and holds you at the base of your head. Unable to move, your eyes widen in surprise, and you release a cry that gets swallowed by his lips and tongue. Sanzu continues to steal your breath and voice, and when he releases you minutes later, you’re stunned silent.

You feel light-headed, and the burning in your cheeks and inner thighs is growing hotter with every passing second. Sanzu observes your flushed face for a second before he grins, diamonds creasing into dimples.

“Look at you,” he mutters, “all riled up.” He searches for your eyes until you two are looking at each other. “Let me eat you up, angel.”

Your breathy plea is all he needs before he pulls you in for another heated kiss.

–

Sanzu is greeted with a shrill whistle.

“Someone’s glowing today.”

Sanzu side-eyes Ran but continues his brisk walk to the conference room.

“So when did the two of you get together?” Ran probes with one eyebrow quirked. “She’s a really sweet girl. I hope you’re taking care of her.”

Sanzu grunts and opens the door. Most of the Bonten executives were in their assigned seats around a round table, save for him and Ran.

“Let’s start,” Takeomi says as he taps the spine of a binder twice on the table. A map is already projected onto a whiteboard, and certain regions are circled in red. “There have been a few fights in Kabukicho these past two weeks, and some club owners want us to increase security. I’ll designate oversight of this area to Rindou and Kakucho.”

“Why the two of us?” Kakucho asks.

“I’ll get to that in a second. First, look here.” Takeomi points at another red circle located near the Yokohama port. “Someone has been stealing our firearms before they get exported. There have already been two reports on separate occasions.”

Koko speaks up. “Have we recovered any of the stolen goods?”

Takeomi shakes his head and replies, “There’s a high probability that the culprit is stealing from us so they can increase their sales. We did manage to find out that this person escaped via car both times, and the vehicles they used were originally from the Kabukicho area.”

Mochizuki scoffs. “We can’t even catch a person who runs away with a shitty car.”

“That’s why I’m putting two people on the case. Rindou will watch over Kabukicho, while Kakucho monitors the roads that go into the district.”

“There’s no guarantee that they’ll go back to Kabukicho, though,” Kakucho says.

“Rindou, your main job is to find the stolen firearms. Track down any of the buyers and see if they have any information on the culprit. If you find anything interesting, tell Kakucho immediately.”

“I don’t see why we should waste our time on this,” Mochizuki argues. “There’s plenty of folks who would throw themselves at this job to get promoted in Bonten.”

Ran interjects here. “If I remember correctly, Mochizuki, you and your men are in charge of Yokohama, right?” Sanzu rolls his eyes, already foretelling how the rest of the meeting will unfold. “If I’m right, then isn’t this mess a result of your men’s incompetence?”

Mochizuki growls. “My men are perfectly capable.”

“So does that mean you’re taking responsibility for this problem? Are you admitting that you and your men have been careless?”

Mochizuki knocks over his chair as he shoots up from his seat. He is only stopped by Mikey’s raised hand.

Mochizuki mutters, “I apologize, Mikey.”

Mikey utters a singular command. “We will follow through with Takeomi’s preliminary plan. If it turns out that the culprit is not in the red light district anymore, then Kakucho should expand his search to nearby neighborhoods.”

Everyone nods, and Takeomi adjourns the meeting.

They file out of the conference room, leaving only Sanzu and Kakucho who holds him back.

“Sanzu, I can look over her while I’m in the area.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s not a good use of your time to be driving around Tokyo. You need to stay in Shibuya.

“Your partner lives near Kabukicho, right? Tell her to stay safe.”

Sanzu’s anger bursts. He grabs Kakucho by the collar and snarls, “Don’t tell me what to do. Everything’s going great in Shibuya, and she’s safe with me.” Kakucho stares back, and Sanzu stalks out of the room.

Sanzu’s frustration is interrupted when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He pulls it out and sees a text from you. It’s a picture of you and Chizu. You’re both sitting on top of a white canvas spread across your living room floor, and there’s clay splattered all over your clothes. Some of it has even gotten into your hair. A short moment later, you follow up with another photo of Chizu’s artwork and an attached message: “Art project failed successfully? Guess I’ll need to buy some more clothes, haha!”

Snorting under his breath, Sanzu replies: “Let’s go shopping next weekend.”

A few seconds later: “Sure! I want to check out that large department store close by.”

Sanzu smiles. “Sounds good. See you in a few, loser.” He pockets his phone before heading towards the garage.

–

When you mentioned “a large department store close by,” he didn’t think it would be one in Kabukicho. The smuggler still hasn’t been caught, and while Sanzu’s pretty sure no one would start a fight on Bonten territory out in broad daylight, he knows he has to be careful.

“Where’s the brat? Is she not coming with us?”

You roll your eyes at Sanzu before chirping happily, “Chizu’s having another sleepover! Same girl as last time. I think they’re becoming really good friends.”

The two of you continue to make small talk throughout the rest of the day. You meander around the mall, dropping into shops to replace the clothes you sacrificed for your daughter’s clay pot. Sanzu would follow you around but waits for you outside the stores instead. He isn’t interested in anything in the first place, but more importantly, it’s the only way he could keep watch. No one has updated him on the smuggler’s location either, so he’s erring on the side of caution.

“Sanzu, is something wrong?”

Your voice breaks his concentration. He was glowering at his phone, waiting for a text or a call or anything, and he didn't notice you come out.

“Just work. Do you have everything you need?” Sanzu says as he takes the shopping bag from your hands.

“I need to go to one more store, but that’ll be it.” Your boyfriend nods and gestures to you to lead the way.

You take an escalator up to the third floor. Sanzu looks around, observing the groups of people filtering in and out of shops, the music playing from speakers scattered across the hall, and signs that read “Exit closed” and “Caution.”

He glances back at you. You’ve entered a home furnishing store and are checking out kitchenware, arms folded and eyes squinted as you judge stainless steel. You find one that you seem to be considering, and he scoffs out a laugh when he sees you knocking the pan bottom and listening with your ear close to the handle. He feels a rush of adoration when he sees you find a set you’re satisfied with, and suddenly he wishes he had recorded the moment.

When you return, he brushes strands of hair away from your face before taking the new bag and adding it to the small collection strung on his arm. You furrow your brows, reaching out to grab the bag and maybe a few more back, but Sanzu promptly turns away and begins striding toward another store. You huff in protest, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips gives away your gratitude.

“Is there any place you want to go to?” you ask.

He still hasn’t received any communication from Kakucho or Rindou, and he’s not sure if the lack thereof is a sign that the situation hasn’t escalated or that the two are so busy because the case is becoming more dire than they had expected. Regardless, Sanzu has learned to hone and trust in his instincts, and something in him is telling him that it’s time to leave. He cannot be out in the public eye for too long, anyway.

“No, I think it’s time we head back,” he replies. You hum in agreement, and the two of you walk towards the exit of the department, not without continuing to bicker over who should carry your shopping bags and discussing ideas for dinner.

When you enter the parking garage, though, it’s eerie. Too still for a department store that’s packed with people. Too quiet when the lot is parked to the brim. Only your talking about the bakery and how business is doing echoes throughout the garage, and Sanzu tries his best to find your car as soon as possible.

When he spots your compact, he tugs at your hand that he’s holding onto.

You pause from the abrupt gesture, but Sanzu looks back at you with urgency: Keep talking. You swallow with difficulty but resume. In fact, you don’t stop speaking until Sanzu starts backing out of the parking spot.

You look at the side view mirror to your right, and at first, you see nothing out of the ordinary. No men in suits or guns out in the open or anything. But then a flash of red catches your eye. You follow the beam until you reach a small red dot shining on the cover of your glovebox.

Your eyes widen, and you’re about to scream. Until Sanzu slides a hand over your leg and pinches.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Through gritted teeth, Sanzu eases the car free and makes his way to the exit. The red dot disappears, but you’re not sure if it’s really gone.

Only after you leave the lot does Sanzu speak up again. “You’re going to need a new car.”

–

You feel your knees buckle at the sight of your home. The journey back took hours, with having to take several detours in case you were being followed, finding a replacement car for you, and reporting to Kakucho and Rindou.

Sanzu’s hands grip your underarms, supporting your entire weight and carrying you into your apartment.

You mutter apologies under your breath, and he grunts and huffs in response. He doesn’t let go until he heaves you onto your bed, and even with the support of your mattress, you feel like you’re about to keel over.

What… happened today?

Was I about to die?

I was going to die.

Sanzu just kneels in front of you. In the corner of your eye, you see his hand reach out and twitch, but it falls to his side in reluctance.

This silence would have persisted had it not been for Sanzu’s phone and its loud rings. He tugs it out of his pocket – a glance at the screen, and you see that it’s a call from Kakucho. Quietly, your lover pads out of your bedroom and into the kitchen to take a call.

“What is it?” Sanzu’s voice is rough, even slightly strained. You hear scratches and buzzes of noise, unable to discern what Kakucho is saying.

“For fuck’s sake, I already said we’re fine.” Pause. “I didn’t need your help. Hell, I think you should be more worried about Rindou because he can’t seem to fucking do his job.” More murmurs from Kakucho. Suddenly, a bang. “I have it under fucking control!”

Your body reacts, and you run to your door to see what the commotion is. Sanzu’s back faces you, and one of your dining chairs is on the floor. He’s cursing Kakucho out for both his meddling and incompetence, tugging at his hair and itching at the diamond scars at the corners of his mouth.

As you watch, the scene begins to fade away, as if the noise is being drowned out by water and the fluorescent brightness of the kitchen lights saturates your vision. Ironically, your body feels light and floaty, and you’re viewing everything from an omniscient point of view.

You’ve felt danger before. When your parents kicked you out, leaving you to fend for yourself. When your ex raised his hand at you – sometimes you can still remember the sting on your cheek. When you gave birth to Chizu – the anesthesia kicked in too late, and you really felt like dying then.

But… this?

Whenever you close your eyes, the image of that red dot plagues you. Unblinking, harsh, bloody. You’ll never forget it for the rest of your life.

And it wasn’t even pointed at Sanzu. Not that you would want your lover to be in danger, but it’s clear that your safety is now compromised. And if you become a target, they – whoever “they” is – would discover Chizu.

Oh, God, please not Chizu –

“Sorry for knocking down your chair.”

Sanzu’s voice brings you back to the present. Soul returning to your body, you try to remember how to look at him. It takes a while, but when you do, you struggle to discern the emotions in his eyes. Or rather, the lack of any such emotions. His blue eyes are darkened with nothingness, void of any warmth or life or happiness.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about,” he says. His tone is that of a businessman discussing logistics and contracts, devoid of any sympathy or concern, but the two of you are in your little, messy kitchen next to a faded wooden kitchen table and an excuse of a living room that is packed with Chizu’s crayons and drawing pad and the walls of an apartment that have only heard your cries at 3 AM because you’ve worked so goddamn hard to be happy and –

“Please not right now.” The words come out wobbly and weak, and a spark finally returns to Sanzu’s eyes. You’ve tried hard to wear indifference at all times, so you can’t imagine the expression you must have on your face.

Next thing you know, he’s carrying you back to your bed, closing your door with a push of his foot, and gently laying you down.

He whispers, “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. But right now, please just let me have you.”

You beg, “I need you.”

Sanzu kisses away at the pathetically large globs of tears that roll down your heated cheeks. He peels off your clothes before throwing them down onto the floor. He lets his hands wander and grab and knead at your skin, leaving bruising marks of pink and purple. He fills you up, and the room reverberates with his pants and your desperate pleas for more. And even when you finish, he keeps going, as if his desire could never be satiated, and you see flashes of white and red and nothing.

–

Sanzu can’t tear his eyes off of your sleeping form. Usually, he’d admire the damage he’d done to you and your body, but the dried crust and permanent frown on your face extinguish his pride.

He doesn’t know how to feel. He has a decisive character, yet even his strongest trait is failing him in this crucial moment. He doesn’t know how to proceed. There would be no right time to talk to you. There would never be a right time to see you so shell-shocked and crestfallen. There would never be a reason for Sanzu to hurt you.

He doesn’t have it under fucking control.

He manages to roll over onto his other side and is faced with your LED clock, the numbers indicating that it’s still early in the morning.

Time solves all eventually, right? But what would the solution look like in this case?

His gut drops. There is no other way to keep you and Chizu completely safe.

And suddenly, he’s feeling too much.

He cries and cries and cries. He’s sobbing while biting down on his chapped lips, which causes you to stir in your sleep, but you don’t wake. He hates showing weakness in front of others, but he bargains with himself to allow just this one time and brings you into his embrace.

In reality, though, once isn’t enough – he will never have enough of you. He wants all of your evenings, sunrises, homemade sugary desserts, breathless kisses, and gentle smiles. He wants to be there to accompany you on every grocery run and shopping trip because he knows you’re used to doing everything by yourself. After all, you’re busy with your new job, and he can spare an extra hour or two to help out – that’s what partnerships are, a give and take, back and forth. Besides, he’s promised Chizu he’d be there for her, so even if you didn’t want him anymore, he can’t go back on his word, right?

He sighs.

Who the fuck is he kidding?

Your relationship has never been a partnership. He’s always taking from you.

At first, you seemed so… immovable. So put together, he didn’t think you wanted another person in your life. But then you two naturally gravitated toward one another, and Chizu, being the loud mouth that she is, also held his heart hostage. He became a part of this little family, and for the first time, he wanted to be a more responsible person because you gave him reason to.

But it’s too late to change the worst parts of himself. Intentionally or not, he’s never been one to keep promises.

“Trust me,” he whispers into your temple, “I’d stay if I could. I really would.”

Sanzu knows he’s cursed to live a rotten life in the shadows. It’s probably some sort of karmic debt he’s accumulated from all the shit he’s done in his past lives, so as much as he loves you, he’s helpless to his fate. He can’t walk away from the ball and chain that is his past, and he’s too entrenched and entangled in the life he’s living now.

There is no other way.

He knows.

So he clasps your hands tightly one last time, praying to the heavens above for your and Chizu’s happiness and safety, before he prepares to leave.

–

The next morning, you notice that where Sanzu once was, sits a box with a note folded on top of it.

You already know.

Though you can’t help but still reach for the box, desperate for any trace of your lover.

Inside sits a thin wedding ring. There is no matching band.

I’ll always be yours.

You slip it on your fourth finger and admire it under the faint sunlight that streams into your room.

Maybe if you didn’t care so much.

Maybe if the two of you had met at another time or another place.

Maybe if you two were different people.

Maybe in another life.

[theygender]

TLT fans: did you guys know about the real Wake? I hadn't heard about her until we covered World War II in my world civ class this semester

Nancy Grace Augusta Wake (1912-2011) was a covert operative who was at the top of the Nazi's most wanted list in WW2, nicknamed "The White Mouse" for her ability to repeatedly evade capture. She was born in New Zealand with Māori heritage, grew up in Australia, and joined the Resistance after traveling to Europe and witnessing the harsh treatment of Jews in Vienna by the Nazis

Wake worked in the Pat O'Leary Line escape network until her Resistance organization was compromised by the Germans in 1942. After that she fled on foot across the Pyrenees—with several close calls that she escaped by flirting with German soldiers—and made her way to England to join the Special Operations Executive. She was part of a three person team codenamed "Freelance" which parachuted into occupied France. During this operation she got stuck in a tree after her parachute became tangled in its branches. The local Resistance leader who found her reportedly said “I hope that all the trees in France bear such beautiful fruit this year" to which she replied "Cut out that French bullshit and get me out of this tree"

While working in the Freelance operation Wake once biked 500 km (310 mi) without stopping in the span of 72 hours across Nazi territory to retrieve a new radio and codes after her team's were destroyed in a Gestapo raid. Without this feat, Freelance would not have been able to communicate with London and there would have been no more supply drops to support their Resistance organization. During the war she was also part of a raid which destroyed the Gestapo headquarters in Montluçon, in which she reportedly killed a Nazi sentry with her bare hands to prevent him from raising an alarm

Wake's fellow operatives described her as "a real Australian bombshell. Tremendous vitality, flashing eyes. Everything she did, she did well. She was an excellent shot, excelled at fieldcraft and put the men to shame by her cheerful spirit and strength of character." "She is the most feminine woman I know until the fighting starts. Then she is like five men." "We both came to the conclusion that she was 10 times the man I would ever be"

By the time of her death in 2011, Wake had been awarded the George Medal by Britain; the Medal of Freedom by the United States; the Médaille de la Résistance, the Croix de Guerre (x3), and the Légion d’Honneur by France; and the Badge in Gold by New Zealand. Due to a complicated relationship with Australia, she originally refused to accept any awards from the Australian government, saying that they could "stick their medals where the monkey stuck his nuts." In 2004, however, she accepted the honor of Companion of the Order of Australia as well

[sheliaeddy]

(December 7, 2023) Bryansk School Shooting - Alina Afanaskina

-- I already posted this a little ago here. If you want to see the footage and the crime scene photos uncensored then they're there.

The Shooter's Profile

Alina Afanaskina was a 14 year old student from 8-”A” class at Bryansk's 5th Gymnasium (formerly School #70). Alina was a type of a person who didn't communicate closely with anyone. Everyone who asked about her was basically repeating the same things: calm, loner, unremarkable, not active on social networks. Even the class teacher preferred talking to Alina's twin-sister, Daria, because Alina always was very silent and never came up with any questions/initiative. Teachers periodically were bringing up the subject of Alina's socialization to her mother and sister, although at the same time they didn't have any complaints about her grades or general behavior.

Alina had two siblings, including twin-sister Daria (Dasha). Her mom is a courtroom cleaner and dad worked in a private security company. Neighbors were perceiving them as good people, a nice and normal family, with a friendly father, though more reserved mother and daughters (who, allegedly, weren't hanging out with other kids at the yard). They didn't suspect any sort of violence in that household, as well as e.g. alcohol abuse; father doesn't drink. The third sibling is known to be a 28-year-old sister who lives in Moscow with her husband for a long time.

The Shooting

On December 7, 2023, Alina refused to eat breakfast. The last two words that she said to her mother were "Don't howl,” (Не вой), which the woman didn't understand. Next, Alina and her sister left the house. They both decided to skip the first lesson - geography and go to a second one - biology. Daria arrived there on time, like everyone else. Around 10 minutes later, when students started repeating their homework with teacher, Alina entered the classroom - with her father's shotgun and dressed all in black (shirt, trousers, combat boots with a knife in one of them, tactical glove), differently from her usual white clothes. Alina opened fire, killing one student, injuring five others, and then turning the gun on herself.

Injuries and Deaths

Alina Afanaskina - shot herself and died.

Maria "Masha" Nesmachnaya - the victim who was killed.

(Masha was going to turn 15 on the 27 December. She is survived by her mother, stepfather and two brothers (one older and one younger who is also attending the same gymnasium), grew up in a religious family. Was mainly interested in cooking, sewing, knitting; also played the guitar and attended music school. According to her mom, she dreamed about becoming a doctor and saving people's lives in the future. Masha's mom described her as a type of person who preferred to avoid conflicts and was on good terms with everyone. In fact, she talked about Alina in a positive manner - saying that she's quiet, but nice and kind.)

Timofey B - shot in the left forearm, thigh, knee and chest

Petr E. - in the lung; his spleen, back, lower back and shoulder were damaged as well.

Timur D. - shot in the shoulder by six bullets: four of them wounded him and flew out, passed through his body, the other two got stuck in it.

Evelina K. - was injured on the chest.

Vitalina D. - wasn't shot, but broke her leg, while trying to escape.

Ofelya Mkrtchyan - a teacher who covered students with her own body when Afanaskina opened fire on them (and also needed medical treatment after it, though not seriously; no injuries among adults were officially reported) - recalled that Alina said absolutely nothing during the whole thing. Despite teacher's attempts to attract her attention, calling her name, she didn't even look at the woman, instead being focused on shooting classmates. Ofelya didn't notice any warning signs before tragic events. In her eyes Alina was a „capable, tactful and diligent” student, „calm, polite and responsible” on daily basis.

The Aftermath

The firearm Alina used during the massacre belongs to her father, Dmitry Afanasyev/Afanaskin, who is currently under police custody of investigation on how she procured the firearm. Dmitry denied all accusations of domestic abuse, claiming that he loves his children, worked as much as he could to provide them everything they needed and "was very happy about becoming a father again after so many years”. He didn't favor any of the twins; they were close with each other, shared the room, studied well.

As a former athlete, Dmitry was often encouraging his children to physical activities and healthy lifestyle since they were little - Alina and Daria were even attending dance school (in a group centered around hip-hop) for at least two years.

However, around a year prior to the shooting, Dmitry started spending less time at home due to work. People from the neighborhood were seeing sisters mostly alongside their mother.

Alina didn't leave any journal, suicide note or explanation behind her actions. All Telegram channels, claiming to be created by her, are fake.

Investigators suspected that Dasha might know about her sister's plans, but during interrogation she denied everything. When her parents appeared at the school right after the attack, girl started crying and kissing her mother's hands in panic. She also couldn't sleep for three days because of the trauma caused by events.

The media started pointing at bullying as the most possible motive. In the general opinion of teachers, students, parents - no such thing happened, Alina wasn't harassed; isolating herself from school peers was her own choice. She didn't have any enemies and treated everyone equally, just didn't want to talk with them due to her introverted attitude. "There was no bullying. We don't know why she did it. We can't say anything else” - stated girl's classmate. Although, another student interviewed right on the day of events, said the exact opposite: "Yes, they bullied her, but not always! She was normal until they told her: you can't do anything to us, you're helpless.”

A note found in Alina's backpack with a text about how she „needs to meet with a friend”, that attracted a bit of attention, was most likely some kind of a grammar assignment, as the matching diagrams about parsing sentences were written nearby.

The motive is unknown so you can come up with your own conclusion as to why.

All of the injured victims have already left hospitals. Gymnasium is open again, but class 8A was transferred to distance learning. Masha was buried in Bryansk's central cemetery, while Alina - in the small village between Bryansk and Seltso.

[nymphoheretic]

IN THAT UNIFORM

Synopsis: You decide to wear the uniform designed for the women and tease Sanemi with it.

Warnings: Spanking (one time), oral (fem receiving), ruined orgasm, bondage, princess-calling, rough sex

Word count: .6k

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x fem!reader

Love letter from Nymph: Just a short little repost from my old blog. Not tagging anyone except the network: @enchantedforest-network

Sanemi grit his teeth and he was forced to watch his woman purposely bend over in front of him. He knew you was doing it on purpose because of the sly smirk you sent him over your shoulder.

The Wind Hashira was going to murder the kakushi who designed the women’s uniform. He looked over and saw Tengen sneaking peeks at your barely covered ass and it took everything within him not to beat the shit out of the Sound pillar.

You looked over your shoulder at Sanemi, knowing that your teasing and baiting would get you the punishment you wanted. You usually don't wear the uniform designed for the women, preferring to wear the pants. But today you felt like matching with Mitsuri, much to Sanemi’s displeasure.

You picked up your nichirin sword that you “accidentally dropped” before hooking it in place. You then skipped over to Tengen and pushed your hands behind your back, making your chest stick out. “Tengen, you’re so tall. I bet your wives love cuddling with you.”

When you pushed your chest out and lightly flirted with Tengen was the last straw. Sanemi stomped over to you and tossed you over his shoulder. He ignored your squeak of surprise and slapped his hand across your ass when you tried to wiggle free. “Not a word from you. Looks like you need reminding who you belong to.”

You whined as Sanemi tied your hands down to the bed post, his head buried between your thighs as his tongue did wonderfully wicked things to your clit. You sobbed when his teeth grazed over your sensitive flesh as he sucked on it harshly. “S-Sanemi…m'gunna cum.”

Sanemi smirked into his cunt as he felt your thighs begin to tremble around his head. He pulled away, ruining your orgasm for the second time since you two came home. The Wind pillar watched with an amused expression as you let out a scream of frustration and pulled at your restraints. “You shouldn’t have been such a fucking brat then, princess.” The way he said that nickname was almost mockingly in your ears

You felt tears burning at your eyes as you pouted. “Nemi…” you cooed, trying to wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “Please…I want you. I need your cock inside me.” You arched your back off the bed, rubbing your pussy against his thigh.

He grabbed your hips, grinding you harder against his thigh. Sanemi knew all your tricks. But maybe he would indulge himself in this one. Fisting his thick cock in his hand. He aligned it with your dripping hole. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll go dumb, baby. The only thing you’ll ne able to think of is me and my cock.” With those words said, the white haired man, thrust inside with a smooth stroke.

You opened your mouth and let out a shriek as he set a fast and hard pace, fucking you into the mattress. You wrapped your legs around his waist and lifted your hips to try and meet his thrusting. Fuck, it felt so fucking good. Your breasts jiggled from the harsh pounding you were receiving. “Nemi…N-Nemi….”

“Want to cum?” He asked, his pace going even faster, hips smacking into yours. Sanemi leaned down and pressed his lips against yours and sucked on your tongue. “Then cum. Cum on my cock. Let me feel you come undone and tell me who you belong to.”

You felt your walls begin to flutter around Sanemi’s dick. You opened your mouth in a silent mouth scream as you tossed your head back into the pillow. “Fuck! I belong to you!”

Sanemi gave a few more shallow thrusts before slowing down and kissing you as your orgasm began to settle down. Pulling away with a grin, he rolled his hips. “Ready for more, Princess?”

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND ONE - HIGH CARD

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a duel is fought.

wc: 1.7k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, first meeting, touya's sass need its own warning

note: SURPRISE !! bet iris starting another series wasn't on your 2024 bingo (it wasn't on mine) but here we are! this whole series is based on this little idea from a few months back and will include swordfighting! fake dating! mutual pining! angst! balls! (the royal kind, not,,, yk) oh and many poker metaphors lol. hope you enjoy this first little exposition chapter :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are greatly appreciated <3

You would admire the spectacle of it all, had it not been for the aching pain in your feet. 

The hand-me-down heels from your estranged stepmother made it hard to focus on anything but your breathing as you tried to steady yourself against a nearby column in the palace garden. You could practically hear her shrill screaming in your ears for not doing enough to network among the other young nobles, for failing to present yourself as fit for bearing children you didn’t want. As the people you’d grown up with since birth milled about carefully-tended roses and large-bloomed peonies, you couldn’t imagine how they weren’t sweating all their caked-on makeup off in the stifling June heat. Fishing the lacy hand fan from your clutch, you relocate to a shadier side of the column under the stone walkway lining the garden. An aggressive snap echoes off nearby walls when you flick it open and sigh when the air hits your face. 

“You stole my spot,” comes a smooth male voice from the other side of the column. You don’t think the person is talking to you, but then you hear an amused snicker and a small thank you to who you assume is a passing servant. It’s awkwardly silent except for faraway conversations and the breeze blown from your fan until the man clears his throat. “I’m holding out a water to you, if you would kindly look over your shoulder.” Slightly irritated by the condescending tone in his voice, you look and, sure enough, there was a cold glass of water in the stranger’s white-gloved hand. You couldn’t see his face, nor the rest of his body, but something in your gut told you that it was safe. And, if it did happen to be poisoned, at least it got you out of another season. Carefully taking the glass from his long fingers, most of the tension in your body leaves after the first few sips slide down your throat. “Refreshing?”

“Very,” you answer cordially, in that airy tone your stepmother taught you. She said it was a fine way to attract suitors, which made you want to drop your voice several octaves whenever a potential husband drew near. “Thank you. That was very kind of you, Mister…?”

“My identity is irrelevant,” he says quickly and you turn your head in his direction, as if to hear him better. “Nor will I ask of yours, so consider this conversation akin to speaking to a wall.”

“From my perspective, I am speaking to a wall,” you point out and the stranger chuckles under his breath. “May I ask why you aren’t socializing with the others?”

“I could ask the same of you, considering that you’re cowering behind a column.” The jab was evident. Your mouth drops in indignancy and, had it not been for heat exhaustion and your nice spot in the shade, you would have decked whoever was on the other side of this conversation. 

“I am not cowering,” you huff, taking another sip and willing the temperature to decrease just a few degrees. “I am merely…taking a break.”

“Taking a break where no one else can find you? For ten minutes?”

“A woman values her privacy,” you argue. “And as far as I’m aware, you were able to find me quite easily. Perhaps you were the one trying to hide, and I was the one who stole your spot.”

“So, you do acknowledge that you are stealing from me.”

“Space in this garden is not something to be claimed unless you are of the royal family, dear stranger.” You hope he can hear the smirk in your tone. 

“And yet, here you are, stealing what is rightfully mine.” 

“And yet, here you are, stealing what is rightfully mine,” you echo in a nasally, mocking voice that would have placed you in major trouble if your parents knew how you were addressing others. “Cease your bratty ramblings as if you own this palace.” The man barks out a laugh, a reaction you didn’t anticipate. It makes your heart race a little faster, in spite of your will to stay casual. 

“Have suitors ever told you that you’re quite the firecracker?”

“Bold of you to assume they get as far as to speak with me,” you correct without hesitation. Presentations were one of the stupidest parts of your present society, along with those tiny sandwiches and that tea that tastes like boiled shoes. “If they decide to pursue me, that’s their first mistake.” The stranger hums in a low tone. 

“Maybe you haven’t found the right suitor, then,” he muses and, before you can answer, the royal bugles announce the beginning of the duels. Excited cheers and the clicking sound of heels on pavement take over any remaining conversations. You whirl around to the other side of the column, anxious to see the mysterious man you were conversing with, but find the other side as vacant as when you first passed it. Slightly disappointed, you find your place along the perimeter of the circular stone courtyard and wait for the king’s advisor to speak. 

“Today is a day of celebration,” he begins, and you mutter the rest of his speech that you’d heard for the past four years under your breath. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and instinct tells you that someone was watching you, but you can’t find who it is among the hundreds of people present. You think you’ve found the culprit when you lock your gaze with a pair of strikingly blue eyes, but they disappear before you can identify the rest of the person. “And, as you are most likely already aware, this year we welcome His Highness Prince Touya Todoroki to the presentation ceremonies. Though he is of a royal family, those that wish to court or be courted by His Highness may present themselves as suitors as they ordinarily would.”

“And will the Prince grace us with his esteemed presence, or is he preoccupied with his ordinarily outlandish activities?” Sneers and snide remarks ripple through the crowd and the advisor struggles to regain their attention. That is, until that same loud barking laugh that you heard from the other side of the column cuts through the murmurs and mutters.

The voice that follows makes your blood run cold in your veins. 

“How bold to assume any of you are worthy of breathing in my presence.” 

“Your Highness–” 

“Shut up,” he spits, shivers spreading over your skin as the crowd splits to reveal an unruly mass of spiked white hair. His eyes are paralyzingly bright, cold and narrow while they scan the vermin before him. The rumors that circulated of his intimidating nature paled in comparison to the man before you, tall and lean and radiating the most dangerous aura you’d ever come across. All the previously gloating eyes became that of rabbits hunted by a wolf when they came under his gaze…except for yours. By some odd stroke of Fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen the Prince before, even though that was physically impossible. Maybe you’d passed another white-haired asshole in the market. “Well? Are we starting or shall you keep gawking until I staple your jaw shut?” The advisor stumbles, shrinking away like a mouse in a lion’s den. 

“Yes, Your Highness. May the first Lady to be courted please step forward!”

As the gowns start to swoop and the swords begin to swing, you’re again reminded of just how unnecessary the spectacle of presentation season always was. One by one, daughters of nobility presented themselves to the suitors, who would then step forward and duel one another for the opportunity to court the Lady. The fights were never to the death, of course, but the shame that came with losing more than one duel was close to it; nothing was more embarrassing, however, than having no suitors step forward when a Lady presented herself. It was your worst fear every season, one that you seemingly didn’t need to worry about this time around.

Still, you were met with the same pasty-faced suitor that had been attempting to win your hand for the past several seasons. He’d accumulated significantly more muscle mass since the previous season, but his hot-headed temper and objectifying tendencies were enough of a turn off to send him packing by the end of the first meeting. 

“You have rejected me time and time again, but that only makes you more enticing,” he declares, offering his hand to you while you roll your eyes behind your fan. Ladies who already received their matches swoon at his show of masculinity, but it only makes your stomach turn. “I will win you. That is my promise. And, if not this season, then the next, and I will persevere until the only eyes you look for in a room are mine.” 

“The only thing I would be looking for in a room with you is an exit,” you mutter. He doesn’t answer, eyeing you like you were a wise investment. Gross. 

“You’d do well to accept me.” Your attention darts upward and you meet his stare, irritated at your lack of a response. The volume of his voice drops so that only you two can hear it as he comes to stand inches away from your face. “It’s not like you have the privilege of other options. Marry me or life as a spinster is your only future.” 

“I wouldn’t marry you if the entire kingdom was at stake,” you hiss and his mouth turns up in a snarl, ready to bite out a response when the shing! of a sword being pulled from its sheath echoes through the courtyard. A quiet verbal commotion sets into the crowd, but you’re unable to see anything beyond the asshole before you. 

"Your business is with me, not her," warns a dangerously familiar voice and the man in front of you stiffens. "Let's get this over with."

“The…ahem…duel will begin once both suitors are in first positions,” the advisor relays with great hesitation. You’d never experienced a duel for your hand, yet it seemed that another man had been dealt into the game. With his face drained of its remaining color, Pasty-face draws his blade like an inexperienced marionette, clunky and jagged, as he takes his place in the circle, allowing you to catch the eye of his opponent, molten blue eyes that make your knees turn gelatinous. The prince was dueling for your hand. 

Prince Touya of the Todoroki family was dueling for your hand. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[cipheramnesia]

Part 3: The Death, Rebirth, and Afterlife of Parasite Alice

The Riverside Clinic for Wellness and Long-term Care weathered safely the storms of the burn just as all the worst memories navigate the mindscape unimpeded. The venerable history of the red brick and white trimmed building carried it through the poor and homeless left in squalor to the airy chill of lobotomy and electroshock therapy, two wings wide and three floors tall. Its height well serviced its intent, too short for escape even via a yearning leap from the roof to its concrete driveway.

The persistance of such single-minded enclosure of the divergent mind carried forward to the interior, with mutiply sectioned floors along each wing navigable only through a network of stairwells. A more modern elevator spired through the center of the building, lever operated and gated by iron on all sides. None of the layers of white tile or muted gray carpet or soothing art prints or geometic wall paintings over the years could fully excise the prison lovingly built into the architecture. Inside, it promised no escape. Outside its dignified facade offered warm reassurance that aging loved ones to difficult children and everyone in between would be safely forgotten.

Some part of Alice understood all this as the square black truck complained about stopping at the brick stairs with their awkwardly late addition of a wheel chair accessible ramp, leading to wide white doors set with large windows blocked by gauzy white curtains. The driver helped her out of the car and she said, "I can do it just fine!" before almost falling as her legs wobbled. She didn't like strangers touching her, but now everyone was a stranger and she leaned on a stranger just for the simple task of reaching the door of the building where she will die of cancer.

The doors swung inward to reveal an average man with a surfeit of dignity to his gray peppered mustache and deep, dark eyes beneath a noble high forehead and a gently swept back head of mostly gray hair. His thick belly preceded his wide shoulders into any room, and his hands were noticeably large with thick fingers, moving quickly and nimbly to pull a wheelchair onto the small porch. He wore checked trousers, a pale yellow golf shirt, and his arms were exceptionally hairy.

"So good to meet you," he let one hand overtake his stomach to greet Alice, which she disregarded. "My name is Dr Hopewell, and I'm the administrator here at Riverside. I've heard quite a bit about you, and I wanted to make you comfortable right away. You're quite the special guest!" He smiled away the dignity of his profile.

"I don't need a wheelchair," she said. The driver shrugged and let her go, forcing her to grab to armrests to keep standing. "I'm just tired." She gave daggers out of her eyes to both men before maneuvering herself into the seat. "Don't get used to this."

The driver passed a clipboard over her head. "You gotta sign for the delivery, also initial there... and there. Sign and date there too. Okay, nice knowing you."

Dr. Hopewell was already turning her and rolling her into the building before the driver started the truck. "Don't worry Alice, we'll make sure you have the best of care here. You're a celebrity after all, but there may be a few bumps ahead!" They wheeled past a heavy wood door and a much larger orderly took over, pushing her down the hall then bumping up a flight of stairs.

"We specialize these days in unique individuals like yourself. I understand you won't persue treatment?" She folded her arms and rolled her eyes. "Well, if you change your mind, we can be ready to start immediately." The chair and orderly bumped back down stairs into another long hallway. "But here is your room, and we've put you with someone you should get along with. She's very unique."

The room was small, two beds with a curtain divider, wall mounted TV sets, a closet bathroom, one tall window and a few small sets of sad artificial wood drawers.

Another woman sat in a rolling tube frame chair in the far corner of the room. She was big and soft and still in pajamas, her belly stuck out a bit from under the top, and her sloping shoulders seemed to be a permanent fixture of her slouch while the sweeping curve of her neck to her chin echoed in her faint jawline. Her nose was long and straight and Alice thought it was very fine with her dark black eyes looking a thousand miles away and her arrow straight glossy black hair hanging behind the chair. Alice wondered what it would be like to hold her hand. Would she squeeze hard or gently? Interlaced or fingers to thumb.

She about the woman's hands and lips and eyes enought, it took her longer than it should have to realize the other woman was also shimmering with the golden glow of the burn.

[richarlotte]

Social climbing tips?

The concepts of high society, etc., are really reserved for old people. You, as a young woman, don’t really belong to the generation that the highest echelons of society belong to; you belong to the same generation as their grandchildren or great-grandchildren.

 

Because the upper class primarily consists of white people, you have to be willing to befriend them. Is it possible to socially climb and create a network of only black people? Absolutely, but it’s not going to be easy, and the black upper class is much more exclusive and bound by more rules than the white upper class.

 

You have to have an education. You are not socially climbing or going far without one. The term “Mrs. Degree” came into vogue because young women who wanted to social climb would use college as the first step, sororities as the second, and a packed social calendar as the third. School is important for life, not just social climbing and working towards marriage.

 

You have to constantly be bettering yourself. It does you no good to wait for someone in one spot. Keep working on yourself, keep learning, and keep striving for more, and the right people will meet you on your journey. Becoming stagnant will only hurt you. Stay on your journey until you’ve seen it through to the end.

 

Not everyone needs to be your friend, but people do need to tolerate your presence. You can’t be insufferable; you can’t be a total ass; you have to be genuinely likable. If you want people to want to befriend you, go out of their way to vouch for you, and treat you well, you can’t act however you want and expect the world to bow at your feet. You really can’t put a price on decency and good friends are very rare.

[xomakara]

Breathing

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You were betrayed by your betrothed and left for dead. You’re rescued by a healer named Yeosang, who nurses you back to health. As you recover, you share your past with Yeosang and express your desire to live a quiet life, away from the rumors and hatred you faced. PAIRING | Yeosang x Reader GENRE/CONTENT | healer!Yeosang, noble!Reader, non-idol au, fantasy, romance, slight angst, slight fluff, smut, consensual, vaginal sex (wrap it up y’all!), oral sex, gentle lovemaking WARNINGS | Its a fantasy setting so…yeah, implied violence, betrayal, injuries/wounds, RATING | Mature, Explicit, 18+, NSFW, MDNI LENGTH | 7,050 words TAGLIST | -- NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | This took me a bit to write and I finally finished it! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I wrote it! Please reblog, comment and like~ Much love!

You couldn’t have known that it would have come down to this.

Couldn’t have known this would have been the last breath you would have taken.

He knew better than anyone else how much you loved him and even though you begged for a chance to be a family, you didn’t even get that one chance.

You were just discarded like the rubbish you were, never being able to find happiness or peace again. It all happened so quickly; there was no way you could stop what had just occurred.

All you wanted was to feel safe and protected; all you ever wanted was love, happiness, and companionship.

He gave you that love and happiness once upon a time.

But then that woman who was like a ray of sunshine swept him off his feet and took him away from you. He changed. He gave her everything and forgot about you. The rumors that you were evil and vindictive grew and flourished because of how you treated that woman. They said you stole him from her even though that was far from the truth.

The stories they told made him want to leave you and finally it did happen, just not in the way you imagined. Now he’s gone and you’re alone.

No more fighting.

No more tears.

Nothing but emptiness.

He is now free from your grasp as his guards drove a sword through your chest.

There is nothing left for you now except for pain and grief.

As you laid on the warm, grassy field looking at his fleeting back as he walked away with that woman at his side, you couldn’t help but take one last breath before darkness consumed you. Your heart stopped beating; your soul died in that moment when he gave up on you, right in front of your very eyes.

You woke with a start, breath heavy as you clutched at your painful chest where the guards’ sword pierced through it during your final moments of life.

You weren’t dead?

You looked around the room and noticed the bare furniture and bright white walls; the smell of death wasn’t present.

It was empty except for you. There was no prince by your side, no other guards and fair ladies, no one…

It was just you and this huge bed. You suddenly felt cold, not only from the icy temperature outside but also from the fact that your whole body hurt.

“You’re awake?” You heard a voice called out. You looked over to see a man standing near the door holding a bowl of something. “How do you feel?”

“Where am I?” You managed to choke out between deep breaths. The man came closer to the bed and kneeled down next to you, sitting the bowl on the nightstand that was next to the bed. “And who are you?”

“My name is Kang Yeosang.” The man smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder. You instinctively shied away. “Here, have some soup. It has medicinal herbs in it. Hopefully it will help ease the pain you’re feeling.”

“Thank you,” You took the bowl gingerly, cautiously as you carefully spooned the contents into your mouth.

Yeosang watched you for a bit, giving you a slight nod. “I know you have plenty of questions. I’m sure you’re wondering how you ended up here.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know what exactly happened to you…but I found you bleeding out in the fields. You were barely breathing. You were barely alive. I brought you here, cleaned you up and nursed you back to health.”

“How long have I been here?” You asked after you swallowed the rest of the broth. You lifted yourself off the bed, using Yeosang’s hand as support.

"Only a few days.” He answered solemnly. “That wound on your back looks infected. We can treat it if you want.”

“Okay,” You nodded. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat next to you, giving you a worried look.

“Can I ask what happened to you?” Yeosang asked, his fingers untying the thick ribbons that tied the back of the shirt you were in. You closed your eyes as he peeled it open, exposing the injury in your back. “What happened when you were left out in the fields to die?”

“The man I thought I loved betrayed me for another woman. The rumors were that I stole him from that woman. That I was evil and vindictive.” You sobbed quietly as Yeosang tried to soothe your wounds. “People hated me for loving someone who didn’t love me back. I tried talking to them to come to an understanding during the imperial hunt…but I guess I was the one hunted instead.”

Yeosang gently dabbed the wound, helping you sit upright against the headboard as he began to bandage the cloth around your chest. You winced from the sharp pain. "They wouldn’t listen to you?”

“No,” You shook your head. “None of them cared. They just accused me of horrible things and said terrible things about me. They made my life hell and there was nothing I could do to stop it. To everyone, I’m just a villain undeserving of love and happiness. So I lost hope in trying to get people to accept me for who I really am. All I ever wanted was to belong somewhere, to be accepted by others.”

“Oh…” Yeosang furrowed his brows as he tightened the last knot of the bandage. He grabbed the shirt and put it back on you, wrapping it tightly around your chest. “Do you want revenge?”

You shook your head vehemently. “I don’t care about the rumors anymore. What’s done is done. Nothing can change that now. I just want to live life quietly even if people think I’m dead. As long as I am happy, then that’s all that matters.”

Yeosang patted your hand softly. “We’ll talk more later. Right now you should try and get some sleep.” He stood up and started walking towards the door. “Sleep well.”

You laid back down in the bed and waited until you felt drowsiness take over your body.

Your fever spiked and you coughed violently, sending hot spittle flying across the room. You were sweating profusely, your skin burning under your touch as Yeosang sat by your side, wiping your face with a wet cloth.

“Please stay still,” Yeosang murmured soothingly as he wiped your forehead with another cloth. “This will make you feel better.”

You let out a soft groan as Yeosang touched your back. Your back still ached, especially from the wound that pierced your body. The wound from the guards hadn’t fully healed yet. You were scared to move too much lest the wound reopened again.

“Let me see.” Yeosang reached for the blanket, uncovering your torso. “Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah,” You frowned as you tried to sit up. “A lot.”

“It’ll heal soon,” Yeosang assured you as he used the clean cloth to wipe your sweat away. You sighed in relief as your head cooled down. “Just relax and let me tend to you. This might hurt a little.”

“Alright,” You nodded, closing your eyes as you felt his hands moving around your wounded chest. The first touch made you flinch, causing Yeosang to pause in his work. You exhaled loudly as you slowly lay back down, letting Yeosang continue tending to your wounds. He worked steadily, cleaning the wounds and applying the healing balm onto the wound.

“Everything alright?” Yeosang asked concernedly, his eyes focused on your chest as he continued his work.

“Mmm hmm,” You hummed in reply.

He finished treating the wound after what seemed like forever. He let out a sigh of relief before sitting back in his chair. “There, that should help with the pain.”

“Thanks,” You smiled weakly. “That really helped.”

“Are you hungry?” Yeosang asked. “The broth earlier wasn’t enough for you. Are you hungry for anything else?”

“I would kill for meat…” You muttered but shook your head when you saw his face. “I don’t really mean I’d kill anyone. I’ll shut up now. Sorry for saying that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled lightly. “Would you like some water? You haven’t drank any in a while.”

“Sure,” You smiled gratefully as Yeosang got up from his seat and filled a cup of water from the nearby basin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He handed you a cup of water. “Drink it slowly. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.” You promised as you sipped the cool water. It tasted like nothing compared to the wine you usually drank but it was nice and refreshing nonetheless.

After your glass was empty, Yeosang refilled it. “Now, how are you feeling?” He asked gently. “Better?”

“Yes.” You nodded, swallowing the remaining liquid in the cup. “Much better.”

“Good.” Yeosang smiled at you reassuringly. “I’m going to head out and procure some meat. Will you be okay here alone?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You reassured him. “Go on ahead. I’m good.”

“Alright.” He stood up, taking his empty cup with him. “Have a good night, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Yeosang.” You watched him leave before lying back down in bed. You set the cup of water aside and stared up at the ceiling, focusing your attention on counting the beams above you.

Your wound had healed considerably, although it was still tender to the touch. At least it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did yesterday. The worst part was having to constantly deal with the constant headache that was plaguing your mind. Even though you were alone, you had never felt more alone than you did at this very moment. You wished you had someone by your side; someone you could lean on. A friend or family member. But sadly, none of those existed.

But Yeosang had taken such good care of you.

In the past few days that you’ve been in Yeosang’s care, you learned that he was a former guard in the imperial army before losing both his parents in a tragic accident. Because of his current situation, he decided to return to his home village to tend to his parent’s property and retired from the imperial army.

Yeosang became a healer to provide healing for the village and for coin. He has always enjoyed healing and saving people, being outdoors for herbs and being among nature. In fact, he was looking for medicinal herbs in the outskirts of his village when he found you on the verge of death in the field.

Yeosang was a kind man, a bit weird and eccentric at times but he had a good heart. After your injuries were treated, he stayed by your side, helping you recover. He told you that you needed to eat properly in order to regain your strength. So he provided you with the best food he could find, made you nutritious soups and prepared delicious meat meals for you. You knew you should be thankful for his kindness but all you could think about was how lonely you were right now.

Your loneliness gnawed at you day and night. You had been so used to receiving love once upon a time. Now that you no longer had that, your heart felt heavy. Lonely and hopeless.

You couldn’t sleep properly because of the constant migraine that kept banging against your skull, keeping you awake. If only there was something you could do about it…

Yeosang returned to the cottage right before the sun rose, bringing with him fresh meat and vegetables from his excursion. After placing the supplies inside the cottage, he grabbed a small jar of water and brought it to your bedside. You took the water gratefully as Yeosang walked towards the bed.

“How are you doing?” He asked, looking at you intently.

“I’m better,” You replied with a small smile.

“Good.” Yeosang stroked your hair softly. “Maybe tomorrow we can go fishing. Would you like that?”

“Sure,” You smiled. Fishing sounded like a great way to pass the day.

“Let’s take a look at your wound then. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt his fingers lifting the back of your shirt, exposing your wounded back. Yeosang placed his warm hand against your back as he inspected the wound. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He nodded, moving his fingers away from your back to lift up the front of your shirt. “Anything.”

You blushed slightly as Yeosang looked down at your naked torso, eyeing every inch of it. “Do you ever feel lonely living here? All by yourself without anyone?”

Yeosang paused in his movements. His fingers still as he held onto the edge of your shirt. He blinked a few times, seemingly confused. “Why do you ask?”

“I…it just came to me.” You scratched the back of your head nervously. “Sorry, I must have asked a silly question.”

Yeosang’s expression softened. “Not a silly question at all. Do you feel lonely here?”

“A little,” You admitted sheepishly. “My injury makes me quite vulnerable and sometimes I wish I had someone with me.”

Yeosang closed his eyes and gave you a faint smile. “You know what, Y/N?” He whispered gently. “I’d gladly be your company.”

Yeosang’s words caught you off guard. For a split second, your heartbeat increased dramatically. Your breathing became shallow and ragged. It took a few moments before you managed to calm yourself down.

“What did you say?” You stammered, staring at Yeosang.

“Y/N, I’d gladly-”

“Are you sure?” You interrupted, suddenly feeling nervous. “You barely know me.”

“You said you wanted to live a happy, quiet life. And I know you want to forget about all those things that happened to you. I want to give you that.”

“Yeosang…” You grabbed hold of his arm and squeezed it tightly. “I…” You closed your eyes and sighed. “I…”

Yeosang placed his free hand on top of yours. “Y/N, it’s okay to not want to be lonely. I’m kinda lonely too with no friends and living in this cabin by myself.”

You nodded your head. “So you can relate.”

“I can definitely relate. My situation probably pales in comparison to yours but I can definitely relate to being lonely.” Yeosang gave you a small smile as he patted your hand. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” You breathed out. “Very.”

“Good.” Yeosang grabbed the tray of food and placed it on the table next to the bed. He sat down next to you and handed you the spoon. “Eat.”

You moved the blanket off of you and sat up, digging into the large meal with a ravenous appetite. It was the first time in a while that you felt full and content. All thanks to Yeosang.

As you ate, Yeosang watched you intently. He was lost in thought as he sipped on his own bowl of stew. You had grown quite fond of his presence in the cottage since he arrived. Without him, you felt completely alone.

“Do you want to talk about what happened to you?” Yeosang suddenly spoke up, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I mean I knew you talked about it a bit before but…is there more that you can get off your chest?”

“Uh…yeah,” You mumbled, pushing your empty bowl away. “I suppose it’s about time I did.”

“Okay.” Yeosang raised an eyebrow. “So tell me, Y/N.”

You glanced over at Yeosang before continuing. “Well you probably know that I’m a noble. But I’m a high ranking noble that was betrothed to a high ranking lord at a young age. Maybe I was delusional or something but I thought he loved me just as I loved him. We spent countless hours together talking about our future and dreaming about what it would be like once we got married and settled down. Our families have been friends for generations. Everything was perfect. Then one day, everything changed.”

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts before speaking again. “I found out that he picked up a stray orphan from his travels, brought her home and took her under his care. He fell in love with her and he stopped loving me. It was just like that. Completely unexpected. One minute, I’m flying high thinking about my happily ever after with someone I love, the next minute, I find myself tossed aside like trash. Devastated is not even the word to describe how I felt. All I could do was crawl inside a hole and cry.”

You rested your hand on top of your stomach. “It was terrible. It was embarrassing and painful. Everyone was calling me names, telling me I deserved it and worse. My family abandoned me, telling me that I was a disgrace. How I was stupid for letting him go. For ruining our reputation.”

You shook your head slowly. “I didn’t know what to do. I tried to fight for him but he wouldn’t listen. No one listened. They called me evil saying that I was stealing him from his true love. My whole world collapsed around me. And then the imperial hunt came around and well…here we are.”

Yeosang remained silent as he stared at you. He took your hand in his. “I’m sorry you had to experience that, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” You wiped away the tears forming in your eyes. “And thank you for finding me when you did. I’m still alive because of you. And I really appreciate that.”

Yeosang smiled softly. “You’re welcome.”

You cleared your throat. “The food is good.” You looked down at your plate. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Yeosang smiled. “Do you want anything else?”

“I’m all good.” You shook your head. “Do you think we can head into the village later? I need some new clothes and I think a walk will be nice. It’ll help clear my head.“

Yeosang stood up and stretched his arms above his head. "That sounds like a great idea.”

When Yeosang walked out of the room, you gazed out of the window. From where you were sitting, you could see the fields and trees surrounding the cottage. There was something beautiful about it. Everything seemed peaceful. You hoped that soon, you’d be able to find peace in your life again. But for now, you were grateful that Yeosang was taking care of you.

A few hours later, you and Yeosang left the cottage and headed towards the village. A few villagers spotted you walking through town and they started whispering amongst themselves. As you approached them, one woman nudged another and pointed at you. The two women exchanged a glance and one of them ran off to tell their friends. Soon everyone in the square turned their heads towards you, curious about who you were.

“Yeosang! Did you find a wife?” A woman shouted. “Oh my, she’s so pretty!”

“You’re lucky to have Yeosang as a husband, girl!” Another woman yelled. “If only my husband was half as cute as him.”

You let out a small laugh as the people began gathering around you. A group of children surrounded you and begged you to play with them but Yeosang had to shoo them away due to your injury.

A crowd had formed outside the tavern and the owner poked his head out of the door, smiling. “There goes another lover coming to steal my man. Sorry everyone, it looks like Yeosang is finally off the market.”

“Saving a damsel in distress isn’t such a bad thing, after all.” Yeosang chuckled and leaned against the wooden post beside the door. Everyone laughed as he turned to look at you, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let’s go get you some new clothes and other things you might need. Don’t worry, I won’t leave your side. The villagers are pretty nosy.”

“I don’t mind it all.” You smiled back. “Everyone seems to really love you.”

Yeosang rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re a bit too obsessed with me.”

“I think it’s lovely.” You grinned. “But let me ask you a question.”

“Of course.”

“You’re not embarrassed that the villagers are calling me your wife? I mean we just met and we’ve known each other for less than a week. That’s not very normal.”

Yeosang shrugged. “I guess I just don’t mind.”

You tilted your head. “Huh?”

“I don’t really care what people think.” He replied. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Oh…” You felt your cheeks heat up slightly. “Thank you.”

Yeosang pulled open the doors to the tavern and stepped inside, motioning for you to follow him. He ordered a meal for both of you and set it on the counter as he waited for the cook to bring it out.

“You’re so kind to me, Yeosang.” You mumbled quietly, setting down your plate.

“Don’t mention it.” Yeosang gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing.”

“Maybe not but it means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Yeosang waved his hands. “No need to thank me. Just take it easy, okay?”

“I will.” You flashed him a warm smile before resting your head against the wall behind you.

After lunch, you and Yeosang went to go buy items that you would need, explore the village for a bit and headed back home.

“Yeosang,” you muttered as you looked at the wild fields that stretched out ahead of you.

“Hmm?” Yeosang asked, looking over his shoulder at you.

“You know that high noble that I was betrothed to? It’s actually Crown Prince Mingi…” You let out a sigh. “He’s the man that I was supposed to marry. The man that betrayed me and left me out for dead.”

He didn’t say anything as he strolled by your side. A little ways away from you, there was a stream that flowed through the countryside. You had never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life. The grass was bright green and the sky was filled with the color of purple.

“I should be mad that he betrayed me like this…” You muttered as you closed your eyes and breathed in the air. “I should get revenge for the things he did to me but…maybe there’s no point. I mean, I survived. I was actually saved by a kind stranger and now I’m on my way to find my own happily ever after. What more could I possibly want?”

Yeosang stopped walking and turned to face you. “Y/N?”

You opened your eyes and turned to face him. He studied you for a moment before reaching out and caressing your cheek. “Everything happens for a reason, Y/N.” He said softly. “I don’t understand why things worked out the way they did but sometimes, there’s a bigger picture that we can’t see. Maybe your life with the crown prince wasn’t meant to be. Maybe it was meant to lead you here instead.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he gently brushed his thumb across your cheek. His fingers were soft and warm against your skin. You couldn’t remember feeling so safe and secure in a very long time.

“Wherever you end up, I hope you find what you’re looking for, Y/N.” He smiled. “Just don’t forget that I’m always here if you need me.”

“I won’t.” You mumbled. “I promise.”

“Good.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Now let’s go explore the countryside, shall we?”

Over the next few months, you enjoyed yourself immensely while exploring the country. Sometimes you would spend time with the people of the village, sometimes you would sit by the stream and admire the beauty of nature. You also made sure to heal properly. While it hurt like hell, the pain eventually faded away as you healed. The scars across your chest still remained but you decided not to focus on that. Instead, you focused on the things you were thankful for.

One night, while lying in bed, you started to think about everything that had happened to you over the last few months. About everything you went through and about the one person that helped you every step of the way. You sighed as you drifted off to sleep, wondering if he was thinking about you right now too.

Hours later, you heard footsteps approach your bedroom. A knock sounded at the door followed by a muffled voice.

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar male voice call out. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” You answered.

A few moments passed before the door opened and Yeosang peeked inside, giving you a small smile.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hi.” You smiled back, stretching your arms above your head.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You rolled onto your side and faced him. “Much better.” You sighed. “I can’t believe how fast I got better.”

“That’s what healing herbs are for.” Yeosang nodded. “Sometimes, they work faster than we expect.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You shrugged. “Speaking of which, I thought I would repay you for helping me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since you helped me recover so quickly, I wanted to give you something in return.” You reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. “These past few months with you have been the best of my life. Even though we haven’t known each other very long, you’ve already become such an important part of my life. I’ve never been so at peace and happy all these years. If I could, I would have never let you go.”

His eyes softened as he stared deeply into yours. “Y/N, I-”

“Don’t.” You interrupted. “Don’t say anything yet. Let me do this.”

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, gently kissing him. He froze for a moment before returning the kiss. When the kiss ended, you slowly sat up, a smile on your face.

“I wanted to do this because…” You took a deep breath. “Because I want to thank you. For being such a good person. And for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it.” Yeosang replied, reaching out and pulling you close to him.

As the weeks went by, you and Yeosang continued spending most of your days together. Some days you would sit by the stream, talking or drinking tea while others you would explore the land. On those days, you’d venture far away from the village and walk along the endless grasslands. Sometimes, you’d stop and pick flowers for him to give to the women of the village or make you a meal to show his appreciation. Other times, you’d rest under a tree and watch the sun rise. You spent almost every day with him and loved every second of it.

You knew that you were falling for him but you weren’t quite sure when it had happened. All you knew was that one day, it hit you and you knew that you had moved on from the crown prince, from your old life and had found someone that made you feel whole again. It was hard to describe what you felt for him. All you knew was that he made you happier than anyone else in the world and that he was the one you had been searching for.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you grew closer and closer. Each day, you became even more attached to each other. After a few weeks, you noticed the affection between the two of you growing stronger and stronger. The villagers still saw you as a married couple and never failed to tease you whenever they saw you together. But you didn’t mind it. In fact, you relished in their teasing. It was proof that you had finally found true happiness.

When winter came around, you celebrated the first snowfall together. With a grin on his face, Yeosang scooped up a handful of snow and flicked it at your face. The cold water stung your skin but you simply giggled and reached out, grabbing another handful of snow. This continued until the both of you were covered in snow and laughter. You threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“This is going to be a wonderful winter.” You whispered, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“I agree.” He chuckled, placing his arm around your waist.

After a few minutes, you broke apart, grinning from ear to ear.

“We should go inside.” You said, brushing some of the snow off of your coat. “I’m getting cold.”

Yeosang grabbed your hand. “I know a good way to warm you up.”

Your heart began beating rapidly as he led you inside. Yeosang lit up the fireplace and threw several logs inside. Once the fire was burning well, he wrapped a blanket around you and pulled you close to him, sitting on the floor. You snuggled close to him, as he held you, slowly tracing his fingertips down your cheek, letting them linger on your lips.

“So…” He whispered. “What are your plans for the upcoming new year?”

You grinned mischievously. “I don’t really have any.”

“But, if you did have plans, what would they be?”

“Well…” You glanced up at him, chewing on your bottom lip. “They might involve you, I guess.”

“Oh?” Yeosang raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah…” You admitted shyly. “I mean, we’ve been spending so much time together and our feelings seem to be growing deeper everyday. So, I was just curious…”

He cocked his head to the side, studying you for a moment.

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?” He asked quietly.

You swallowed hard. Your cheeks burned brightly as you lowered your gaze.

“Y-yes.” You whispered.

A smile spread across his face as he reached out and cupped your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb across your skin.

“If I wanted to make love to you, would you allow me to?”

You inhaled sharply as his words washed over you. His eyes searched yours as he waited patiently for your answer. After a few moments, you lifted your head and met his gaze.

“But all my scars… My body is damaged…” You explained, slightly hesitantly.

“I don’t care.” He stated simply. “All that matters is the person behind them. They’re only physical blemishes, nothing more. They don’t define you.”

A lump formed in your throat as he gently traced his fingers along your jawline.

“Besides…” He added, bringing his hand to your lips. “If you’ll allow me to kiss you, I’d gladly kiss away every single scar.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer to you. Slowly, his lips pressed against yours, sending shivers throughout your entire body. It was gentle and tender but filled with such passion and heat. At the same time, his hands caressed your hair and back, making you melt against him. You closed your eyes as you basked in the warmth of his touch. You could feel his heartbeat steadily racing against your own as his tongue explored your mouth. Every brush sent tingles coursing through your veins. Every kiss seemed to last longer than the last. As the seconds ticked by, the both of you became lost in the moment. Time ceased to exist as you became completely consumed by the sensation of being in each other’s arms. Eventually, the two of you parted, gasping for air.

“Let me make love to you.” He whispered.

You gazed into his eyes, lust swirling within them. “Please.” You breathed. “Make love to me.”

Yeosang slowly got up and picked you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. As he walked towards the bedroom, he lowered you down to the bed and carefully removed your boots. Before removing your clothes, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“My beautiful Y/N.” He murmured, gazing down at you.

With a soft smile, he began untying your blouse, sliding it down your arms. You turned your head to look at him as he gently removed your top and slipped it over your shoulders. Next, he slowly undid the buttons on your skirt and slid it down your legs, letting it fall to the ground. He gently stroked your skin with his fingertips, his touch caressing the scar on your chest. He leaned down to kiss it before capturing your lips once more. Once he broke away, he stared deeply into your eyes, taking in your beauty.

You watched him intently as he slipped his shirt off and then unclasped his pants. As he lowered himself onto the bed, he captured your lips once more, holding you tightly against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he ran his hands up and down your body. He kissed every inch of your body, slowly trailing kisses down your neck and chest. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears was music to his ears as he paid special attention to every little detail.

When he reached your breasts, his lips followed, kissing every inch of them before moving lower, causing goosebumps to form on your skin. He circled his tongue around your nipple before sucking it softly into his mouth. You moaned in pleasure, running your hands through his hair as he gave you pleasure like no other. When he started sucking on your other breast, your body arched up into him. A few minutes later, you broke apart, breathless and flushed.

“Yeosang…” You breathed. “Please.”

With a smirk on his face, he kissed his way down your stomach. When he reached your navel, he traced his finger along it, causing you to shiver.

“Your body is perfect.” He breathed. “Just how I imagined it to be.”

He trailed kisses further south, giving you a taste of things to come. When he reached your thighs, he ran his fingers up and down them before lifting your leg and placing it on his shoulder. You bit your lip as you watched him trace circles on your inner thigh. He then placed a trail of kisses down your inner thigh, giving you chills as he slowly inched closer to where you throbbed with need. He stopped suddenly and looked up at you with dark, lustful eyes.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

With a trembling voice, you nodded your head. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He breathed. “Because I plan on exploring every inch of this body tonight.”

His hand moved back up your thigh, moving closer to your core as his tongue glided up your center, licking every inch of your clit, causing you to moan loudly. The vibrations echoed through your body as his tongue continued its slow pace. His hands moved from your thighs to your hips, holding you firmly in place as his tongue teased and tantalized your sensitive flesh. You trembled uncontrollably as he increased the intensity of his kisses, increasing the speed of his movements. Soon, you couldn’t take it anymore and began thrashing your head back and forth on the pillow, moaning louder and louder with every thrust of his tongue.

“You taste amazing.” He whispered. “And your scent is intoxicating.”

As he continued to feast on your pussy, you felt yourself building up toward an orgasm. Sensation after sensation flowed through your body, intensifying your pleasure until you could barely breathe. Your breathing quickened as your body tensed and shook. You cried out as you came undone beneath him.

You lay there panting, trying to catch your breath as he continued to eat you out, enjoying the taste of your juices. You slowly opened your eyes and gazed at him with loving eyes.

“I can’t believe I’ve never experienced anything like this before.” You gasped.

Yeosang smiled widely as he took a deep breath. “Are you saying that I might be a better lover than the crown prince?”

“Shhh…let’s not talk about him.” You giggled. “I want to keep enjoying this feeling for as long as possible.”

With a devilish grin, he shifted positions and began lightly kissing his way up your body to the scar on your chest. “Does it still hurt?” He asked.

“No.” You answered. “Not anymore.”

He pulled back and gazed down at you, a questioning look on his face.

“Not when you’re touching me.” You replied, running your fingers through his hair. “It doesn’t hurt at all when you’re here.”

He chuckled as he gently kissed the scar on your chest. “Then maybe I should stay with you forever.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel loved. In the past, you didn’t even know if it was real or not. But Yeosang showed you that you were worthy of affection. He proved to you that it wasn’t only love that could heal a broken soul; that it was also true friendship and compassion. From the moment he saved you, you knew this man was meant to be in your life. The way he treated you, the way he cared for you, the way he respected you… You knew he was someone very special.

Yeosang kissed your scar one last time before capturing your lips in his. His lips were warm and gentle as they met yours. You ran your hands up and down his back, holding him tight against you as you surrendered to his touch. He enveloped your body in his strong arms, laying in between your legs as he continued to explore every inch of your body. With each kiss, his hands drifted lower, feeling every curve and fold of your skin. With every caress, he held back his excitement, wanting to make sure you enjoyed every second of this moment. Every ounce of his passion poured out as he laid claim to every part of you, leaving you spent and breathless.

“Can I…?” He murmured against your neck. “Can I finally be inside you? Make sweet love to you?”

“Yes.” You breathed. “Please.”

Slowly, he pushed his way inside you. You let out a moan as you gripped his back. Each stroke caused another rush of pleasure to spread through your body. Every movement caused you to shudder and shake, calling out his name over and over again. He kept a slow pace, careful to not hurt your body any further. Every movement caused a new wave of pleasure to wash over you, threatening to send you over the edge. He knew that your body still needed time to heal, and therefore, would wait patiently until you were ready for more.

After several minutes of gentle lovemaking, he lifted his head and gazed into your eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and covered in sweat, yet you still radiated an aura of pure beauty.

“This feels right, Y/N.” He said. “I’m glad I found you.”

You smiled lovingly at him. “I’m glad you found me too.”

For the first time in years, you felt safe. For the first time in years, you felt truly loved. For the first time in years, you felt whole. You held onto him tightly as he continued to slowly thrust in you, savoring every last minute. This was your first time experiencing this type of intimacy and you wanted to remember every single detail.

Yeosang’s face lit up with delight as he felt you tighten around him. Both of you grew increasingly aroused as your bodies began pulsating with pleasure. You clenched your muscles tightly around him as you arched your back, begging for more.

“You sure?” Yeosang asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s fine. Please, Yeosang.” You begged. “I need more of you. More of everything.”

His expression softened as he leaned down and kissed you passionately. At the same time, he slowly picked up his pace, thrusting harder and faster as your screams filled the room. He plunged deeper inside of you, filling you completely. Every inch of your being became alive, as your entire body quivered in ecstasy.

In response, he wrapped his arms around you, clutching you close to his body as he panted heavily, lost in the throes of passion. Every time he hit bottom, you clenched him tighter, crying out his name. Together, both of you shared your greatest moment together. Every ounce of happiness you had ever felt was released during this intense experience. And when the climax subsided, neither of you wanted to let go. You slowly began rocking back and forth with him, falling deeper and deeper under his spell. Eventually, he leaned down and captured your lips in a tender kiss, whispering in your ear.

“Thank you.” He breathed. “For staying alive. For making me fall in love with you.”

You gazed into his beautiful eyes as he gently rocked you against him. The love and warmth that radiated from his gaze overwhelmed you. “Thank you.” You whispered back. “For saving my life. For helping me see what true love really means. For letting me live and breathe once more.”

Yeosang tightened his embrace around you as you nuzzled your face against his chest. His strong arms held you securely as you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth of his embrace. You listened to his heartbeat as it slowly calmed, and as you did, your own heart began to beat slower and slower. It was as if you had become one person, one mind, one heart. As you drifted off to sleep, both of you fell asleep holding one another.

In his arms, you found peace, contentment, and most importantly…love.

[tinydeskwriter]

Hi! Can you write something with Carlos? After yesterday's events... I need to read something to cope, idk☹️☹️

You're Carlos Fucking Sainz

A/n: this is just a little something, a domestic moment after the bombastic news, Y/n trying to be there for her man. I was so sad for Carlos, I think this is the cuntiest Ferrari move ever, it's sure to make things unconfortable this season. It's not something particulartly big or elaborate, because I wasn't sure what you wanted, but I hope you like.

“Amore,” the Spaniard is surprised to hear the soft voice calling him, blocking his cell phone screen and placing it on the coffee table, turning to his girlfriend standing in the doorway.

Y/n arrived in Madrid three hours after the news was posted and a fifteen-minute call with her boyfriend left her heartbroken. She was lucky to have an extensive network and such a competent PA who managed to get her on a flight back home in record time—even if that meant she had to travel coach from Milan.

“Carinõ, what are you doing here?" The man got up and approached his girlfriend, kissing her lightly before pulling away to look at her, “I thought you weren't coming back from Milan until tomorrow."

“Aren't you happy to see me?" She tilts her head slightly and wrinkles her nose in the way she knows Carlos finds her irresistibly adorable.

“I'm always happy to see you." The words are genuine, but the smile is forced.

“I told the girls that my extremely hot and talented boyfriend needed me more than they did." Y/n wraps her arms around the older man's muscular neck.

“Not so talented apparently…” The woman's smile disappears when she sees his crestfallen expression and deprecatory tone when talking about himself. “They warned me ten minutes before the announcement went up.”

Y/n took her boyfriend's face in her hand, forcing him to look at her. Determination evident in her eyes.

“Carlos, bebé, you are amazing, never think otherwise, you are no less than Charles," she says seriously, “it's their loss, go after what you want my love, any team would be lucky to have you, Ferrari you've only been building tractors for years, you did your best, Hamilton will have the most disappointing end to his career there, and half the experts doubt that Charles will win the title racing for Ferrari."

“I'm going to be without a team in 2025..." the Spaniard says, moving away from his girlfriend, towards the large couch they choose together months before—his house was a true bachelor pad before she moved in, and it took some effort and gentle persuasion for her to convince her very headstrong man to allow her to change around.

Sitting on the huge, velvety blue sofa, with his arms crossed and beaked, his head thrown on the back and his eyes closed, he would look downright pathetic if he weren't so handsome—and if she didn’t love him so much.

At least for today, she wants to make him feel better, tomorrow and beyond, they take it one day at a time. Y/n sighs. She hates when Carlos is hard on himself, especially over a situation he has little to no control.

She takes off her own dress, leaving it pooling down the living room floor, in only a white lace G-string she sits on the man's lap, uncrossing his arms and placing his big hands on her ass. She laughs when Carlos immediately opens his eyes, staring at the pair of breasts in front of him with desire—she knows it's a low blow, but she just wants to see him a little more himself, sex won’t solve anything, but it will definitely take him out of his shell.

“Bebé, you are Carlos fucking Sainz,” she tangles her fingers through his dark strands, “fuck Ferrari, fuck Fred, fuck Charles and fuck Hamilton, show them all who you are, be your cuntiest self, ignore their bullshit strategy and their fucking favouritism, race for you, follow your instincts and get out of that tractor factory with a bang.” She kisses him deeply, biting his lips.

[aasouthteranoswife]

Cartel Princess

Summary: At night, South runs the streets of Brazil, and during the day, he's a famous MMA fighter who loves his woman but not the brattness that comes with it.

A/N: South is tatted up in this fic, and the reader is small. Dividers by: @benkeibear

Networks: @themovingcastlez @enchantedforest-network

18 + MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warning(s): mentions of drugs, brat taming, daddy kink, blow job,breeding, cum, cursing, no aftercare, p and v penetration, mentions of corruption, established relationship, tattoos, rough sex.

The past:

During the day, South is a famous MMA fighter, and by night, he's on the streets of Brazil running his well-known cartel "Rio Rocinha."

How you ended up at an MMA fight was your boss had an extra ticket and asked if you wanted to go. Your boss had the likes for you, but you didn't. You just went for the free tickets and food. He was much older than you and wasn't your type.

When you saw the current champion walk into the octagon trying to keep his title. How he moved in the cage, he never missed a punch or kick had you hot between your legs, your eyes stayed locked onto the fight.

He was tattooed from his neck to his hands, down to his ankles, even his large back tattoo got you heated is what set you off was the muscles and tallest. You need him.

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

You stood out when South saw you in the crowd, whne he was taking a break feom round one those big beautiful [ insert your color] eyes and long beautiful [color] hair, wearing a skimpy little dress that showed too much. Sitting in the front row in front of the cage he was fighting in.

At the end of his winning match, he came up to you asking your name, where you're from, and if he could have your number. You gave him your number and a little about yourself. All while your jealous boss watched. All you knew about him was his height, age, and that he was still the heavy weight champion.

After you two ended your conversation, your boss walked you to his sports car and took you home for the night as so you thought.

"Y/N L/N I'm gonna have to fire you," your boss says.

"Wait, what, why?" You say anxiously.

"Unless you sleep with me. You can keep your job, and I'll even promote you," he says with a shit eating grin.

"Ew no, I'm not going to that. Let me out now," you screamed while trying to open the car door, but the child locks were on.

"Fine, your fire collect your stuff tomorrow morning from your desk," he says angrily as he stops the car in the middle of the road and unlocks the door.

You hurry out of the car, slamming the car door shut as he sped off in his sports car, leaving you on the side of the road.

You started to cry. When your phone vibrated in your purse, you checked to see who texted you, and it was South. As you walked to the nearest bus stop, you called South, explaining everything that happened.

Fifteen minutes later,

He picked you up and took you home that night. South ended up staying the night as you two talked all night, getting to know each other, and the rest was history

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

You dated for a year, and he popped the question that's when South convinced you to move to Brazil, leaving your New York home. You thought taking a risk would be fine.

The thing that you didn't know about him was running a cartel business until you moved to Brazil. You were pissed that he didn't tell you, you two fought for hours until South shut you up by fucking you stupid and all was forgive. He even gifted you a new car and house to start your future with him in Brazil.

The present:

"Minami," you shout from your balcony, looking over your living room, placing your hands on the rail.

Wearing nothing but a yellow lacy thong and a tight white t-shirt that showed your round nipples. As you looked down at your husband, counting his drug money from the previous night, shirtless in grey sweatpants with his signature gold chain around his neck and tattoos on full display, with his right-hand man named Blade and another guy with tattoos all over his face.

South rolled his eyes and stopped what he was doing to look up at what you wanted so badly to have to shout his birth name.

"Put some fucking clothes on," he shouts pointing his finger at you from above. Slamming his money down on the glass coffee table in your living room as he stood up from the soft couch you picked out. He didn't even say, "What's up, babe?" He just shouted at you.

"No, this is my house too South. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want." You say taking your hands off the rail crossing your arms across your chest. As the tattooed face guy said, "Damn" under his breath.

South clinches his fist with rage as a vein in his neck bulges out, "is the so," he says angrily. He releases his balled up fist, cracking his neck while massaging it in the process.

Without any more words, South started walking with long strides heading up the stairs to the balcony you were standing at. He was halfway up the stairs when you registered that he was coming after you.

"Oh shit," is all you said before running to your master bedroom and slamming the door shut.

"Shit, she got it coming for her," Blade says to the tattooed face guy while continuing to count profit.

But not even a minute after the door flies open and slams shut again. South was on your ass. You giggled, running and jumping on your king-size bed, trying to make it to the other side of the bed. But South catches you by your ankle with one of his tattooed hands. Making you fall onto the bed as South pulls you closer to him as you were on your stomach.

South grabs your arm, forcing you to face him. "What did I fucking tell you about talking to me like that in front of my men? Hmm," he says angrily.

"It was a joke, South" you say, waving it off.

South crouches to your level as your only 154cm compared to his 210cm. With his nostrils flaring, he inhales and exhales intertwining his large hands together. As you played with the hem of your panties.

"Open your fucking mouth," he says getting up and pushing his sweatpants down to his muscular tattooed thighs and grabbing your bun in the top of your head.

"What?," you say, playing stupid, but there was no time for before he forced his nine inch cock down your throat making you gag.

You held onto his thighs, digging your manicured nails into his inked skin while kicking your feet on the bed as black mascara tears run down your cheeks.

"Breath through your nose, I'm not letting up," South says, giving your ass harsh slaps, making your skin swell red.

Drool dripped down your chin as South continues to thrust deep into your throat as you looked up at him. He lets go of your hair and pulls out of your throat. You try to catch your breath as South barks an order, "get up." You did as you were told getting on your knees and sitting down.

South grabs the bottom of your white t-shirt and pulls it up and off, throwing it across the room. You grab onto his sweatpants to pull them down more, but his large inked hand wrapping it around your neck, pushing you on your back and forcing your legs open to see the wet patch between your legs.

"Hold your legs open," was all husband said before grabbing you thoug and ripping it off in one go. You start to rub your sensitive clit but South pulls your hand away roughly.

"Good Girls get prepped, bad girls don't," he says, pushing his entire length inside of your heat. Making bit your lip and rolling your eyes back.

"This is what you wanted, huh?" he says, giving your hard nipples a pinch as he starts to thrust in and out of you. All you did was shake your head, yes. Taking the pleasure your husband is giving to you.

"Why didn't you just say so," he says, caging you in between his tattooed arms as you grabbed onto his back as he hit your favorite spot. You loved so much, making you moan loudly.

"There she is, my little bratty princess," he says into your ear and nibbling it as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

"Please," you say.

"Please what" South says

"I wanna cum, please let me cum daddy," moaing out your words.

"My pretty little baby wants to cum," he says moving one of his arms, rubbing circles on your clit making your toes curl, shaking your head as you dug your nails into his back making your legs spread wider for him.

"Go on," he says thrusting faster and deeper making you scream amd shake as you cummed on your husband's cock. As he spilled his seed inside your womb. Grabbing both of your legs to keep them open as he slowly pulls out of you watching the cum drip out of your hole.

"Remember, princess, you always get what you want, just ask," South states, pulling his sweatpants back up and walking out of the room.

South goes back to the living room like nothing happened, counting his money over again after you interrupted his count.

While you laid in bed trying to come down from your high as your husband's cum still leaked out of you and onto the clean bed spread wanting to take a shower.

"What happened up there, boss. You got a nasty cut there?" Blade asks with a smirk. As South looks at the nail marks, you made in his back, bleeding slightly.

"Its part of the territory now shut the fuck up and figure when our next shipment is coming in." He says laying back on the couch, lighting a joint.

Taglist 🏷

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[sgiandubh]

'Business talk'

This gem...

... triggered this reaction:

That was exactly The Fascist's point, but it would seem The Fascist has never ran a lemonade stand in her entire life, either.

How about this easy to comprehend explanation?

S is the investor - he put his own money in that project. He could have went for the easy white label solution, but he clearly wanted to make it a personal journey of discovery, too. Then he helps with promotion (it is a personal journey of discovery, after all), something he went a bit overboard with on his socials, IMHO. On which planet would BTS work be up to him, too?

Ever since Ashley stepped in, I definitely feel there is less amateurish improv and way more balance, in that department. Plus she works hard and brought all her professional network onboard - just look at the SS Spirits Instagram account, lately and the difference is plain to see. Alex looks like a wannabe, compared with the steel butterfly blonde - she definitely knows what she is doing, there. All the right things, at the right time. Witty puns on top - you go, girl, I am rooting hard for you and I am not the only one:

And then, you have this particular type of twat, with this particular type of comment:

'Go into debt'? For a bottle of booze (even as a repeat buy)?

Oh come on, do they really think we are all imbeciles, or what?

The genius who wrote that has no idea about what a really expensive whisky retail price is, nowadays. And I am talking retail price, not auction results:

[Source: Masters of Malt website - https://www.masterofmalt.com/guides/whisky-guides/a-guide-to-expensive-whisky/]

Taking Waitrose as reference for a (posh) weekly shopping experience, The Sassenach whisky is priced on par with their most expensive available brands online - that is true:

However, all of the above are single malt bottles. For blends, such as The Sassenach, their best fetch halved prices:

But going into debt? Wow. That is a stretch, for a product that is not even that easy to source, outside of the US and the UK.

That woman clearly has a very low opinion of the fandom she claims to be a part of.

It would seem they are also stupid on Fridays, for some reason. I am impressed by the consistency.