#buy handcrafted shirts

[reveluving]

cold little kisses ; yandere!singer x reader

summary: Omar's love knows no bounds.

warnings: s~mut (minors DNI!) & tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: I LOVE @oncomingnight 's OCs to BITS, but Omar has been haunting me for DAYS. OP if you're reading this, hi!! Quick question; is the man in the original post like someone someone? ‘Cause he now comes to mind whenever I think of him ✋🏼😔 Hope you don't mind me giving this sweetheart a go! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

'But like the greedy man he was, he never stopped. Not even when the two of you returned to his cabin.' ;

Smut includes: unprotected sex (p in v), cockwarming, slight teasing & marking, drools & sweat, body worship, soft!dom!Omar!

Omar believed you were God's gift at its purest form, and to be the luckiest son of a gun when you bestowed before him that very day?

Absolute miracle.

There was no way he could have wiped the lovestruck smile off his face every morning, waking up to you in your most vulnerable.

The extravagant sight of Quebec was already a treat as it was, enjoying the spot with his wife was another. He was more than content to watch you marvel at the snowy night, eyes twinkling in the fairy lights as the snowflakes fell on you like an extraordinary being blessing the Earth, but that would be unceremonious of him.

“Omar, look.” You gasped for the umpteenth time tonight, bending down at the line of the nation's quintessential souvenirs, handcrafted in ways that would surely grab the attention of first-time tourists. Those familiar with the renowned singer were kind enough to leave him and his beloved be, going only as far as taking a picture of the two from a distance to share on their social media later and rake in OMGs or any other forms of awe.

That, and many were smart enough to stay away, having witnessed the more intimidating side of him online at the mere mention of you in manners that never sat right with him.

“Would you like that one?” He asked, his deep voice never failed to send shivers down your spine.

“Omar, we already have so much.” You raised the bags in your hands, plus motioning to the majority that he had offered to hold. Brows furrowing a little in a way that you feel guilty that he has to play tour guide for you, no matter how many times you have visited.

“Well, who else is going to beautify our new bookshelf, if not you?” He chuckled, languidly walking over to stand next to you. He briefly surveyed the souvenirs through the glass, only for his eyes to flit towards you within seconds, prompting your face to burn, despite the chilly air hitting you, “We're buying it.”

Omar ducking his head was a telltale sign of him wanting to steal a kiss, but rather than feeling his lips on yours, he pecked the cold tip of your nose. Embarrassed by the affectionate display in public, you hid your face in his chest, your giggles vibrating through him.

That didn't stop him from showering you with more, planting kisses after kisses on the top of your head while he rested his free hand on the small of your back.

But like the greedy man he was, he never stopped. Not even when the two of you returned to his cabin.

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glassy to the point where you couldn't pinpoint the nature on the other side of the window beyond silhouettes. Your mind was no better, your brain already in the midst of turning mush in favour of him prodding your cervix.

He cooed at you, akin to a delicate flower if not for the way one of his hands gripped at your ass tightly. Blunt nails leaving marks for him to appreciate in the next sunrise. His other hand lightly held the back of your head, leaving you no choice but to stare back at him in a drunken haze.

Omar welcomed your drools and tears dripping down his chest, occasionally leaving damp marks on his shirt, all unbuttoned but barely removed from his shoulders. The half-disheveled look on him was a sight to behold, the oh-so-put-together-singer nowhere to be seen.

You felt full, and you were full, the stretch around him evident when bouncing you up and down his cock required his aid. You would've fallen back or sagged in his arms if not for his own holding you snug against his chest. Although, that didn't mean he wasn't seconds away from losing himself into the feeling either—falling back into the velvet seat with one arm around you, chest heaving in shallow breaths and skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

His body akin to a Greek God, created to worship his one and only with loyalty, riches and silk, and protect you from the dangers of humanity alone, or even the unforgiving weather that occured beyond the safety of his luxurious cabin.

Lost in the way you squeezed him each time he rolled his hips, he surged forward, wrapping his lips around one of your pebbled tits. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing his face further into your breasts as he shamelessly looked up at you through his lashes.

“Omar…” You hiccuped, brushing your lips against his forehead, moving your hips when he stilled you for a moment. It felt sickly sweet. something only he had the privilege of—of your body and soul, “Move, please…”

He couldn't say no to you, not now, not ever, even if he wanted nothing more than to listen to your pretty voice and hold you real close.

So long your lips, your mind, your you—could do nothing more than reciprocate his own desires, he'd only stop at his own expense when hell freezes over.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» Bonus HC from the train pic on OP's post:

I love the thought of Omar, with his reading glasses as he writes the lyrics of his upcoming song on a journal and casually drinks his coffee. But he's also watching his beloved play a one-player card game in front of him with a warm smile. UGH.

» deadass could not help it. this is one of those 'if I don't do something about it, no matter how short or quick it is, I'll sure as hell think about it for a LONG time.' ksjslsksls ;; tagging @firefly-graphics for the gorgeous divider ♡

[estxkios]

can u do the ‘he’s the typa guy’ thing with tom? 💕

TOM KAULITZ ੈ✩‧₊˚

tom kaulitz x gn!reader

summary: 'hes the type of guy to..' with tom

warnings: nsfw, weird / random things ;], use of y/n

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• tom is 100% the type of guy to talk about your guys sex life infront of his friends.

" i made her cum so hard last night.. "

you would shake your head in annoyance and cover your face while he keeps rambling about how good he made you feel the previous night.

tom is totally the type of guy that when you make fun of him, he exaggerates what he was doing.

"tom, you are walking like a penguin in those jeans!"

"oh cmon you know you love it!"

he would say as he dramatically swayed his body side to side, walking even more like a penguin than before. 😭

tom is the type of guy to make fun of you but get mad asf when anyone else does

like one time he would say "y/n that shirt makes you look like you got no tits"

and then bill chimes in

"yeah where did they go?"

tom was all

"what did you just say about her?"

"dude you just said-"

"yeah because im her boyfriend. now get out of here. shes got the nicest tits ive seen."

you were containing your laugh as bill rolled his eyes and walked out of the room.

"tom, its okay i know he was only joking."

"i dont care, only i can say those things."

tom is definitely the type of person to hug you and invade your space when you say "leave me alone"

"tom, i wanna be alone right now, stop."

he wraps his arms around you, putting his chin in the crook of your neck.

"but i love you"

"but, i said i wanted be alone" you would say, trying to push him off,

it was no use though, his grip just tightens and you finally give in.

hes the type of guy who acts all hard in public but hes actually so soft and sweet with you.

hes the type of guy to have pictures of you and him on his wall above his bed

and he swears it makes him sleep better

tom is the type of guy to give your clit a kiss before sucking on it. 100%.

when he said "kiss her lips downstairs" in that one interveiw, we all know hes serious 😇

lastly, tom is literally the type of guy to always be making dirty gestures at you in such serious situations.

like one time you were behind the camera for an interview and he was looking at you while bill was yapping away and he just went,

"🤟🖐️🤟🖐️🤟🖐️" DIRECTLY at you. not even trying to make it discreet.

hes the type of guy to buy you super expensive gifts even if you dont get him anything. this man will give u a diamond bracelet if u give him a handcrafted one.

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hope my tom girlys enjoy

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

Clothes with TXT

OT5 TXT; 5 scenarios member/ reader wc: 1178

🧸 Yeonjun

he'd get matching underwear with you.

In general he'd be a sucker for clever matching outfits, but nothing would beat wearing the same design of underwear during a night in together with you. 

lounging around only in briefs, he'd melt seeing you appearing with the same minimal amount of fabric on your body.

when lying down with you, are close, thin fabric on thin fabric and the rest of touch being directly skin on skin, he wouldn't be able to avoid glancing down, seeing his sensitive parts matching yours with such conscious intention.

it's not just matching colors or minimalistic designs, he'd feel so much giddy joy seeing some cute designs facing each other, maybe beige underwear with cute little bears on them or silly ducks. 

his favorite would logically be pandas. 

when you're outside, wearing completely different genres of clothes, secretly only underwear matching, he'd feel so proud, smirking at the privat coordination of life, the intimate moment of getting ready together precious to him.

and when it's not a mutual decision, but a coincidence that he discovers when you find your way back to another at night, stripping down to take a shower, he'd throw himself at you with the happiest hug. He just loves finding familiarity in you. 

shopping trips include getting matching underwear. To people's entertainment, you'd probably stand there arguing while holding up random pairs of panties. It doesn't matter what section you're in, men's clothes, women's clothes, who cares. You just want to find the cutest little piece of fabric to add to your collection. 

🧸 Soobin 

he's such a winter inspiration to me, so I think of scarfs, gloves, and any warm fuzzy clothes. 

he'd wrap you up, put a huge scarf around your neck, carefully put gloves on your painfully freezing hands after he tries warming them with his breath. 

at home, he'd have a large collection of fuzzy socks for you, cute designs and pinterest-y overknee pairs. 

he'd put them on you, pulling them up slowly and once having your feet warm, he'd pull your legs into his lap caressing the soft fabric in such a manner that you could just fall asleep like that. 

especially during stormy winter nights, he'd have you in only a shirt, underwear and overknee socks in his bed beside him. With one arm he'd hold you close and with his free hand, he'd have his palm run up and down your dressed leg to warm and calm you. 

when he's in a playful mood, he'd tuck on the hem of your socks, pulling them up and down, tickling you oh so lightly until you get a bit annoyed at him, because it also means you'd be shifting more of your attention to him. 

🧸 Beomgyu 

matching accessories. Only both of you already wearing a cap when going out together, he'd find it so cool. 

For fancy dinner dates, he'd enjoy matching belts or both of you wearing a tie. 

It doesn't have to be cute or a huge sign of connection, he'd just enjoy feeling good in his clothes and having you match his energy. It gives him an ego boost, assures him of himself and his taste, that he is someone who can be seen as orientation and some sort of role model. 

Having you maybe exploring your style with his in mind, would make him grow more curious of his own possibilities, too. 

It's just fun for him. 

In a more domestic realm, he'd love seeing you wearing matching slippers. You'd just buy a 2 for 1 set. It's practical and lets him feel like he's truly living life together with you. 

On more serious occasions he'd aim for jewelry, bracelets or necklaces with matching charms, little engravings, such as each one half of a sentence. 

On dates he'd love handcrafting colorful pieces with you, bold pearls and cotton candy coloured strings braided into memories of carefree moments with you. They're his lucky charms and he feels even luckier when he sees you wearing them with the same enthusiasm. 

🧸 Taehyun 

simple, yet impactful having-you-wear-his-shirt-type-of-guy 

whether it's at home or outside, he loves seeing how you make his clothes look like. 

he lets you pick shirts for him, having in mind that you would wear them, too.

sometimes you like to mess with him, suggesting shirts you know he wouldn’t like, silly ones, immensely cute ones or extravagant shirts with attached bows. He’d sigh, shake his head, but go back to the store by himself from time to time to get the shirt, having you find it in his closet. 

he’d go full out when you ask him to give you a private fashion show, throwing all his silly poses into the room, gifting the pieces of fabric a whiff of his energy that makes you giggle whenever you wear the shirts. 

when it’s about his personal favorite shirts he’s be a bit reluctant at first, but when he sees you treating them with such care, not eating in them to keep them stain free, wearing them truly when you need to be just a bit closer to him, making the feeling of having company in life more present, he’d gently help you get dressed in his clothes.

he’d have his hands linger on you, smoothing out the fabric on your body, automatically caressing in a calming manner. 

all of it is just something that would happen alongside daily happenings. It’s nothing deeply thought through, but casual joyful endearments between you.  

🧸 Kai 

would throw his hoodie at you. 

his main intention not being that it's cute, but that it's simply practical. 

Why would you buy hoodies and such, when he could open his own store with the amount of pieces he has? 

however, once you start returning them to him, one by one, with your scent on them, he'd start melting, adoring the routine he carelessly introduced. 

giggly, kicking his feet, falling asleep in them, wearing them in situations that stress him out, make him feel anxious, he'd start relying on shared clothes. 

some hoodies become destined to be your clothes of sadness, catching his and your silent tears. Whenever he finds a wettened hoodie you were currently wearing discarded on your bed, he'd search for you to hold you. 

when he silently drowns his sadness in the mixture of his hoodie and your scent, you'd know when he throws it into the washing machine. 

hoodies become a way of communicating hard feelings with another.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆୨☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★୧⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★୧⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆🧸If you enjoyed reading this, you might also like:

🧸Sleepy Scenarios with TXT 

🧸You Are Changing with TXT

🧸When TXT is making you comfortable

🧸When TXT is having a secret crush on you (sleepy scenarios)

🧸Holding Hands with TXT

[demonpiratehuntress]

birthday girl

Kaku x F!Reader

summary - Kaku always frees up his day on your birthday, because he loves to spoil you and treat you

warnings - none, but in this fic Kaku and the others are just shipwrights at Galley-La and Khalifa is just Iceberg's secretary.

a/n - my birthday is tomorrow so this is purely self-indulgent, i'm sorry <3

Kaku was a workaholic. He enjoyed what he did, so it wasn't often that he took off work for a day. But today was different, because for him today was special.

It was your birthday.

You woke up to a smell that was heaven on earth, and immediately your stomach grumbled. You blushed in embarrassment, even though there was no one in the room to be embarrassed in front of, and quickly got out of bed because you knew that smell could only mean one thing.

Kaku was home.

"Hi, handsome," you greeted with a warm smile as you wrapped your arms around his bare torso. "I see you dressed to impress."

He laughed, clad in only a pair of sweatpants, no shirt, "I know how much you love it when I cook like this, my love. Besides, this was the first surprise of the day for my sweet birthday girl."

"You took off work to stay home with me?" You smiled even more. Kaku was incredibly sweet. You kissed his cheek as he hummed.

"Mhm, but Paulie and Lucci want us to swing by Dock 1 later on so they can wish you," he turned to give you one of his sweet, gentle smiles before pecking your lips.

"That's sweet of them. But you don't plan on staying home all day, do you?" You laughed, guessing he must have planned everything out already.

"Nope," he grinned at you, before turning the stove off. "I have lots of special things planned for my special girlfriend."

You smiled even more as the two of you sat down to eat, blushing as always when you saw that he had made your favourite. You kissed him deeply before he could start eating, showing your appreciation for this gesture and for him because words were failing you.

"I love you," you pulled back and murmured breathlessly.

"I love you too," he didn't hesitate, his eyes bright as they settled on you.

Kaku did indeed have several things planned for you both to do. He knew you liked long, romantic rides on the yagaras around Water 7, so he had found the longest, most scenic route and taken you along it. Then he took you to several shops and purchased anything you so much as looked at, because he wanted to spoil you today. You ended up with an entire new outfit, complete with shoes and accessories.

"You didn't have to buy so much," you giggled as you came out of the last store. "I would have been happy with just the skirt."

"I know," he smiled innocently, "I wanted to get you all of this."

He didn't let you protest, because he swept you away to Dock 1 so that the others could bombard you with wishes and greetings and in Paulie's case, a bone-crushing hug. Kaku had to peel him off you, and you laughed as you said Khalifa's signature phrase, "Sexual harassment," and watched the colour drain from his face.

Then Kaku took you somewhere nice to eat, and the whole time just gazed at you lovingly as you thanked him for such a great day and described how much you love him.

"You're so beautiful," Kaku interrupted your little speech, his eyes twinkling with admiration, awe and love. "You're so beautiful."

Your cheeks burned, "You say that all the time."

"Because it's true."

He took your hands in his and kissed them, not taking his eyes off you, "You're the most beautiful, incredible woman on this planet and I feel very fortunate to be your boyfriend. I just hope one day you'll let me be your husband." He handed you small, handcrafted wooden ship.

Your eyes widened at his words, before settling on the ship, "What's this?"

"Another gift," he smiled, that silly little smile you loved so much.

"Kaku, you already-"

"Stop protesting," he chuckled, "Just open it."

"How?"

"That's for you to find out, my love."

You studied the ship, looking for a hidden compartment. If the cute little ship wasn't the gift, then what was? You found out soon enough, when your thumb brushed against a spot that seemed a bit loose. When you pressed it, a small drawer opened and revealed a beautiful silver ring with intricate carvings of your favourite flower.

"Kaku-" You felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs.

"It's not a proposal yet," he blushed, "Because I know you're not ready, so it's a promise ring. As soon as you're ready, I'm going to marry you."

You teared up, "It's so beautiful."

It was such a thoughtful thing to give and his words were even sweeter, making your heartbeat speed up. You were at a loss for words, this was the most amazing gift you had ever gotten, and him saying he planned to marry you when you were ready made you fall in love with him all over again.

"Then you're perfectly matched," he slid the promise ring onto your finger, then brought your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss it.

That evening as you lay in bed, you couldn't help but wonder how you'd gotten so lucky. Then Kaku walked in to join you, but he was holding a small cake with a single candle on it, and you laughed.

"Well, isn't that cute?"

He smirked, "Can't have a birthday without cake."

He settled on the bed next to you, smiling gently as you sat up to face him. He held the cake up gingerly between you two, so he could sing to you softly and you could blow them out afterwards, after making a wish. It was the most intimate, romantic moment of your birthday so far, and you smiled at him lovingly.

"Thank you so much for today, love," you spoke between eating the cut cake. "It meant so much to me, you have no idea."

He just smiled and looked up at you with an icing-covered nose, and you giggled as you wiped it off and watched him eat messily, adoring your goofball boyfriend. He was the cutest when he ate, and in that moment you silently thanked God for giving you such a treasure.

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

a/n - not my best work, but here it is. Hopefully my fellow Kaku girls out there still enjoy it :)

[maningning]

when i first decided i was going to commit to presenting more masculinely and started telling the people in my life as such, the first big purchase i made towards that direction was buying a set of brogues. 2,300 pesos, genuine cow leather, handcrafted in a shop from the shoe capital of the Philippines a couple provinces over. it was a a half size too big for me (it was the first time i bought shoes measured in men's sizes, i would only realize a couple shoes later that i'm a size 7 1/2 in men's). i wore it everyday. everyday. for every occasion, for every setting, with every outfit. the first poem i got published in my university's literary folio was about how battered it was from daily use. it was just a fundamental part of my life by then. i was the guy who wears the most beaten down pair of brogues you have seen in your life every single day.

a couple weeks ago i went to a local art exhibit done up with the theme of how all the life you've lived and all the things you've loved leave behind physical evidence in their wake. the artist is a lesbian in her 60s. the exhibit is in a house, and you go through it like you would your grandma's.

there's one piece there. it's a pair of shoes that looked quite like mine. its on a mat you would usually see by the entrance of a house, and the entire thing is cemented together. the piece is called "home from work".

i never really had to come to terms with being queer; i always knew i was attracted to girls since early childhood with no "realization moment" to prompt it. i suppose i also always knew that i wanted to present more masculinely. when i imagined myself i always imagined myself as a "tomboy", the way we use that word in tagalog. "....in the Philippine context vacillates between lesbian and transgender male identity" according to Robert Diaz. it's how i refer to myself to the filipino people in my life, and something i find shockingly difficult to translate in english.

many fights were brought about between me and my mom because of this. an aunt asked my mom if i was a tomboy when i was 14, and my mom made me throw out all the button-up shirts i owned. when i got my hair cut when i was 18 my mom refused to talk to me for weeks.

when that kind of shit happens you just start to accept that some things you can't have. some things are just not possible to live as. sometimes you look at a picture of yourself and won't recognize who that is, and it will be every picture forever. when you catch your reflection on random surfaces while going through the world, you'll ask yourself, "who is that?". and after a few seconds you will realize, and flinch.

nowadays i don't have to wade through every aspect of how i look in a picture to see myself in it. nowadays my mom buys me button downs and specifically tells me that i can wear them "because they're for men", an incredibly charming if a bit confusing way to show her support. when i see my reflection on the train window, i go "who's that handsome fella with a banging haircut?" and after a few seconds, i realize, and smile goofily for the rest of the trip. nowadays when i see tomboys out and about i feel kinship, instead of a deep loneliness and jealousy. i don't have to imagine myself, i just am myself.

i cried so much in that art exhibit. i suppose i have realized that the life i used to dream of living is something i just live now. i too am a person of this world. i too an a tomboy. i too will leave behind evidence of a life lived and so much love felt. what a wonderful thing.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Soy Luna characters and what they’d give each other as gifts

This can be very fun depending on how close all characters are with each other.

Warning it’s gonna be a LONG post 💜

Luna

Ámbar would give her new roller skates, specifically tailored for Luna. Color, design, and easily adjustable just for the type of skating Luna does.

Simón would give her a collage book filled with all of their memories together. Everything from photos to little notes he saved, to handwritten memories that he has written down. Also some pages are just ”my favorite stuff about Luna”. Luna looks in it whenever she feels sad.

Nina would give her a story she wrote where the main character is based on Luna. Nina would also audio record the story in case Luna wouldn’t concentrate on reading it.

Matteo, well, based on what he gifted her in canon on her birthday, probably something strawberry related. Maybe to be extra he buys a small strawberry glass sculpture for her to have in her room

Ramiro would give her this t-shirt that I myself happen to wear right now:

Yam would probably sew a jacket for her, with a roller skate on the back and the text ”Luna Valente Professional Skater” under the roller skate.

Pedro I think would give her a T-shirt that said ”Roller Band Honorary Member”

Nico would give her a microphone. She goes around with the microphone in her backpack and sometimes it accidentally goes off and her backpack sounds REALLY loud.

Jim would perhaps get her a sign to hang up in her room that just says ”keep calm and roller skate”

Gastón would give her a polaroid camera, telling her to use it for special occasions.

Delfi probably gifts her a hairbrush and explains how to use it and Luna is like ”Yeah I know what a hairbrush is thanks”

Jazmin makes a video called ”Top 10 Luna moments” and it’s her favorite videos she’s taken of Luna

Ámbar

Luna gives her a box to keep her jewerly in. The box is pink and black, and carved inside it says ”To Ámbar, from your primita”.

Simón gifts her a trip to Paris, just the two of them. He wants to serenade her in the eiffel tower.

Nina gives her a diary, to encourage her to get an outlet for her feelings that isn’t ”throwing stuff on the ground”

Matteo buys her a lamp that she jokingly had said she wanted to have once. Ámbar still appreciates the thought.

Ramiro gives her a photo of him and her posing and ”Red Sharks forever” written under

Yam handcrafts a music box that plays ”Como me ves” and gifts it to her. Ámbar listens to it sometimes when she's alone, and has to admit that she didn't expect a girl who she barely talks to could give her such a good gift

Pedro would give her a T-shirt where it jokingly says ”Reina de la pista”. Ámbar never wears it but she has it in her closet on display.

Nico gives her some earrings that are diamond shaped, but they are not made of diamonds (he doesn’t have that kind of money!)

Jim gifts her some shoes that she randomly saw in a store and thought was ”Ámbar vibed”. She was so scared Ámbar would hate them, but it turns out her vibecheck was completely right, and Ámbar wears them every now and then

Gastón remembers a porcelain doll she desperately wanted when they were 10 and apparently couldn’t get (I like the headcanon that they’ve gone to the same school since they were kids), and he’s like ”hey I found it now, it could be a little fun”, and Ámbar is really surprised he even remembered it because she forgot, but she’s very grateful and proudly has the doll sitting in her room on display.

Delfi gives her some make up, and super expensive and exclusive shampoo, lotion and conditioner.

Jazmin gives her spa weekend at an exclusive resort

Simón

Luna would gift him a trip to Cancún for the two of them, plus tickets in a concert in Mexico City of some band she knows he loves.

Ámbar buys him a leather jacket because she finds him super hot wearing one

Nina would possibly give him a book of argentinean slang and phrases (a little as an inside joke after their shenanigans at the retirement home)

Matteo I can picture buying him like… a bobble head of a celebrity. Or a handmade bobble head of Simón, so now Simón has a miniature version of himself

Ramiro would give him a pair of pants with a million pockets. Like pockets on the thighs and stuff.

Yam I think would make him a new beanie, maybe in the bisexual colors to be funky

Pedro would give him a giant taco-shaped pillow

Nico would buy him a shirt that says "SIMP: Squirrels in my pants" but the "squirrels in my pants" part is really small

Jim I think decides to figure out where he likes to buy clothes, and then give him a gift card on that clothing store

Gastón buys him some sunglasses. A simple gift, but Simón loves them and wears them all the time

Delfi would buy him some new shoes because "she noticed the ones he wore were worn out". Simón appreciates it a lot, because he had planned on buying new shoes himself for like a year but forgot.

Jazmin would make him a collage to hang on his wall where it's just cut-out pictures of Simón with hearts around it, and random stickers Jazmin thought fitted.

Nina

Luna buys her every book of Sherlock Holmes, in a very limited edition publication that is super hard to get, but Luna somehow did. She also has written "Para mi querida Watson" on the title page of every book

Ámbar would gift her a camera, with special features on it, so that Nina can take even better photos than ever

Simón I think would gift her a dvd box of some obscure tv show that she loved when she was younger but couldn't find anymore, and Simón had a friend in Cancún who happened to own all episodes on dvd and shipped it over

Matteo would buy her a notebook with pencils specifically tailored for that very notebook

Ramiro gifts her a bracelet with a symbol of a heart inside of a heart. He gives no context and when she asks he just does a salute and leaves the room.

Yam would give her a book that has printed out all the posts made by Felicityfornow in chronological order, so that even if the account ever disappeared, it's saved forever in this book.

Pedro would give her a light blue hoodie, because he thinks the way she sits down and writes so much, she should wear something comfy <3

Nico I think would give her a mood ring - a ring due to the inside joke that Gary thought they were dating, and a mood ring because he doesn't really know jewelry but "hey mood rings are pretty neat right"

Jim gifts her a book on how to write romance novels, after Nina said she really wanted to write one but didn't know where to begin. Nina ended up getting more inspiration from herself rather than from the book, but she was still very grateful that Jim got it for her.

Gastón would give her a souvenir from her favorite sci-fi movie, something that they actually had on the set and he managed to get his hands on, after searching deeply online. It's Nina's most priced possession and she has it on display in her living room.

Delfi would give her a gift card on a clothes store - either a store Nina has been in, or a store she never has set foot in, but Delfi thinks she can find some good clothes in there.

Jazmin would gift her some body lotion and perfume, because she wants Nina to smell good. Not that she didn't think she smelt good before, but simply because she found the body lotion and perfume and was like "this smells like Nina... I better give it to her!!"

Matteo

Luna would 100% just give him some silly strawberry themed T-shirt. But he loves it and wears it so much he almost forgets to wash it.

Ámbar gifts him a poster she had commissioned an artist to draw: It's a roller skate surrounded by a king's crown. Referencing he used to be the "king of the rink".

Simón would give him hair gel because he wanted to see if Matteo would look like Blaine from Glee if he used it - cause without hair gel Matteo looks like Mr. Schue.

Nina always thought it was funny how Matteo was called ”fresa”, even though she knows it means something else in mexican slang, but she still decides to gift him something on the strawberry theme (he’s gonna get a lot of strawberry themed stuff tbh, it’s just his brand now). Anyway, she gives him a cookbook specified on fruits and berries, and jokingly mentions there’s an entire chapter on just strawberries he can look through.

Ramiro gifts him some themed underwear... only he and Matteo knows what the specific theme of the underwear is, and Matteo both feels like this was a hilarious gift while also feeling slightly awkward if anyone would ever find them. Ramiro also always seems to know when he wears them despite him never telling it.

Yam has heard all about this "chico fresa" thing with Matteo and takes it literally, so she makes him a vest in a strawberry pattern.

Pedro gifts him a mug that says ”Rey de la pista”

Nico gives him a bowtie with a bowtie pattern on it. ”Get it?”

Jim I think would gift him some new wheels for his roller skates, but paint the wheels strawberry colored (red with white dots, as well as green in the middle)

Gastón would give him a specially tailored friendship bracelet. However, instead of calling it a friendship bracelet he calls it a ”bro bracelet”. Matteo loves it.

Delfi makes a video about ”the evolution of Matteo” and just shows clips of him through the years with one of his songs playing in the background

Jazmin manages to get an autograph from one of his biggest idols and she refuses to tell him how she got it.

Ramiro

Luna would gift him roller skates with his own face printed all over on it. He actually skates with it a lot, although never in serious competitions. Except for once when he packed the wrong skates… that was an interesting competition

Ámbar gifts him a small sculpture of a red shark with the text ”never forget”

Simón would get him some instructional tapes on how to breakdance. Ramiro watches them too much in his freetime

Nina probably gives him a gift card on his favorite online shopping site where he orders all his odd t-shirts and also other stuff from

Matteo would give him a bracelet that says ”FRIENDZONE” on it. Only him and Matteo get the reference

Yam would sew some cool pants that he can easily move around in when dancing and roller skating, as well as making them look pretty rad and work with a variety of shirts and jackets.

Pedro I think gives him a notebook so he can write down all his wonderful rap lyrics… Ramiro wrote it out within 2 weeks.

Nico gives him old CDs from the 90s that instructs how to beatbox. Ramiro finds it fascinating how ”beatboxing sounded like in the old days”, while everyone else thinks it sounds mostly the same.

Jim would gift him a new roller skate helmet, with his name ingrained so everyone knows this helmet belongs to RAMIRO PONCE and no one can take that away.

Gastón gives him a miniature sculpture of the three musketeers, as a reference to when the boys dressed up as them.

Delfi buys him some headphones so he can ”dance to his music in silence”

Jazmin buys him deodorant and very kindly says it ”needs to be taken every day”

Yam

Luna would give her a shirt in the lesbian flag’s colors. Yam refuses to ever take it off.

Ámbar would buy her a new guitar that Yam could only dream of buying herself. It was one of those things she saw in the display window knowing it was just a wish. But for Ámbar it was like ”you play guitar and this guitar seemed like it suited your vibes so I bought it 🤷🏼‍♀️”.

Simón gives her a T-shirt that says ”Roller Band reserve (if Simón is unavailable)” and she exclusively wears it during those specific occasions.

Nina I think would write a song about Yam, or at least song lyrics that she later gifts her

Matteo I think ends up buying her a t-shirt that says ”Rock paper scissors” with the two first words crossed out and ”scissors” very highlighted, with a picture of two scissors intertwined under the text. In Matteo’s head this was more of ”well she likes funny english t-shirts I guess” while Yam cannot stop laughing as she gets the shirt.

Ramiro gifts her the gift of music - he records a rap song that is all about her.

Pedro would give her a handmade sculpture of a shield that says "I got a feeling 2017 never forget"

Nico would gift her a pass that says "Yamila Sanchez - she's allowed backstage if asked" and tells her this can let her get anywhere backstage on the Roller Band's concerts without any trouble (and they might need her in case of an emergency!)

Jim would... write her a 200 page long book, all about how amazing she is. Every page, filled with something she loves about her. She's also asked every single other person to write something about Yam in the book, so an entire chapter is just "Our favorite memories and things about you", and Jim has really asked everyone to write at least one full page, prefferrably more (her own page is 10 pages long because she has so many favorite things about Yam). There's photos, there's NOTES THEY PASSED TO EACH OTHER IN CLASS, there's song lyrics they came up with and even some inside jokes. Jim wants to make sure Yam knows how special she is. And if Yam ever doubts it, she can just take a look in the book and see just how much love people have for her.

Gastón I think gives her a black jacket with her name printed on it and a music note under because he associates her with music.

Delfi would give her a little necklace of a silver microphone. Yam asks how expensive this was and Delfi refuses to tell.

Jazmin would get her a gift card of to a really expensive fashion store that Yam has never set her foot in and doesn't even know where it's located, because Jazmin is like "I think you'd look good in the clothes they have there <3". Yam uses the gift card to buy clothes for other people.

Pedro

Luna would give him a mug that says "the world's best drummer" on it

Ámbar would get him some expensive shoes, so that he'd look a little fancy when he's at work.

Simón would gift him one of those dancing cactuses that mimic everything you say. Pedro both hates and loves it.

Nina gives him some new drumsticks.

Matteo would give him a brand new drum set. He was like "it was nothing, you deserve some brand new ones <3"

Ramiro would give him some socks with drums on them.

Yam would give him hairspray, because mentioned to her once that he'd like to try to style his hair in new ways.

Nico gifts him a photo album of them through all the years in their friendship.

Jim I believe gives him a metronome so he can measure the beats in the songs he plays

Gastón noticed Pedro liked cooking, and so he bought him some new pots and pans (those are expensive!)

Delfi makes a 1 hour video of clips of him and her lovebombing him every single second

Jazmin would give him a plastic cup with a cartoon drum on it, explaining "now everyone knows this is your cup <3"

Nico

Luna would give him a new plectrum for his bass.

Ámbar would give him jeans, because she has no idea what else to give him... to her he's the least interesting person in the room

Simón gives him new bed clothes, where both the pillow and blanket says "Property of the Roller Band's bassist" - so that no one will steal his bed clothes

Nina I think would give him a cookbook, so Nico can learn some new recipes, and on the title page she writes "To Nico, from your 'wife'". He laughs so much every time he reads that message.

Matteo buys him a vest, because he thought Nico would look good in one

Ramiro would buy him a cap, because he thinks Nico's hair would look better with a cap on

Yam sews him a jacket with a bass symbol on it and the text "Property of the legend himself" (no one would steal a jacket with THAT epic text right?)

Pedro gifts him a sign to hang up on the wall that has a sentence that is confusing to everyone else, but it's a really funny inside joke between him and Nico they refuse to explain to anyone else

Jim I think would gift him a bracelet with the roller band logo on it, and when she gifts it, she gave him a note saying "Nico: Thanks for putting up with me while I figured out myself. You're a good lad!" He keeps the note in a little box together with the bracelet.

Gastón I can imagine hearing Nico was sad about never owning a PS2 as a kid because he couldn't afford it, so he buys him in a PS2 with some games. Nico is really happy, but the bad thing is that he forgets to go to sleep because he stays up and plays x)

Delfi would get him a gift card on men's hair products

Jazmin would make a 30 second video where she goes "Nico... I don't know you so well but you have always been ok. This is my gift, a video message! Love ya, bye!"

Jim

Luna gives her some new roller skates that she has decorated in color and patterns herself to fit exactly the vibe she think fits Jim

Ámbar would get her a book about how to flirt with people and wish her good luck on future endeavors.

Simón gets her an original live recording of Fito Páez singing A rodar mi vida, and an autograph from him

Nina would get her a dvd box of an anime Jim loved as a kid, but the spanish dub was really hard to find now. Alas, Nina managed to find it on an auction site.

Matteo would probably get her tap-dancing shoes or something, because he knows she likes dancing, so why not learn tap-dancing?

Ramiro pays 5 breakdancing lessons for her because he thinks it's essential she learns the art of breakdancing

Yam records an entire music album where EVERY SONG is an original song about Jim. It's kind of an album that tells a story, first song is how they first met, last song is the wish for their future together. She names the album "For J" and people who knows no context try to figure out who this mysterious J is.

Pedro gives her a T-shirt that says "I solemnly swear to not steal people's suits again"

Nico gifts her a music box that plays Linda.

Gastón would gift her a jacket with the text "A rodar mi vida" stitched on the back

Delfi would freak out trying to get her a good gift to show that they are friends now, and ends up simply paying her dinner at an expensive restaurant. Jim loves it though. Free food!

Jazmin I think gives her a video camera, primarily so Jim can record her dancing auditions in a higher quality than on her phone. Jim also uses it to record people's roller skate performances and singing performances. There's also a rumor she recorded a video on it that only she and one other person knows about... but what they recorded is top secret.

Gastón

Luna gives him a mug that says "World's best best friend in law"

Ámbar would get him a picture of when they were in like 6th grade posing together for a picture and as a caption write a quote that a teacher everyone thought was insane had said

Simón I think would write a parody of the song Gastón from BATB, but change the lyrics to be about the Gastón he knows.

Nina writes an entire novel where the main character is named Gastón. It's a sci fi story mixed with romance, and a lot of the scenes are based on things that happened in their real life but taking place in space instead. She just wrote it for Gastón but he thinks it's so good he thinks she should publish it for everyone.

Matteo buys him a trip to Las Vegas, because they talked about going there some time when they were younger and finally make their dream come true.

Ramiro I think gives him a miniature figure of Gastón from BATB, with the reasoning "haha you have the same name"

Yam would sew him an entire tuxedo suit for funsies and when he asks how she knows his measurements she says "I secretly took measurements of everyone, as well as their personal flavors and taste of styles, and keep the information in a little box in my sewing room in the basement". Gastón goes "wait what" and Yam does a hushing sound and walks away

Pedro buys him a t-shirt that says "I went to Oxford and all I got was this lousy shirt"

Nico doesn't know what to give him and thus gives him a package of beer. Gastón doesn't drink beer but he drinks up the package (not at once) to not let the gift go to waste

Jim would give him a gift card on some fancy men's fashion store

Delfi would give him merchandise from his favorite movie (she remembered!)

Jazmin releases a video called "Why men should be like Gastón (NOT FROM BEAUTY AND THE BEAST!)" where she just goes through her favorite moments of Gastón

Delfi

Luna would give her a stuffed animal dolphin and Delfi wouldn't really understand the joke

Ámbar buys her a weekened at a resort

Simón would buy her a gift card at her favorite beauty product store

Nina I think would give her a journal... with a dolphin on the front (Delfi doesn't understand why people associate her with dolphins!!)

Matteo would look through her videos to find what's her favorite make up brands are and buy her a large package of it

Ramiro takes her to an amusement park, because he thinks she should "relax a little and have fun". Delfi relaxed when they went home.

Yam sews her some overalls, because had analyzed Delfi's style and thought she'd look really neat in some purple overalls.

Pedro writes her a song and records it on a CD so she has it forever

Nico gives her some dolphin-themed socks

Jim gifts her a photo of when they sing together and writes "Cool Ladies forever"

Gastón would gift her an adult coloring book, recommending her to do it every time she feels stressed.

Jazmin does a 2h storytime video about her and Delfi's history together, when they met and every little twist and turn they have experienced together.

Jazmin

Luna notices how much Jazmin seems to laugh, so she gives her a joke book so that Jazmin can laugh even more

Ámbar gives her a one year subscription on expensive and exclusive body lotion and perfume

Simón handcrafts a little trophy depicting a microphone, and writes "to my best student" on it

Nina gives her some new high heels. Jazmin doesn't know how Nina even knows what high heels are, but are surprised how spot on Nina was that they'd be her style

Matteo would get her a new case for her ipad, with pockets so that Jazmin could keep all her stuff in the same place

Ramiro would get her a fidget spinner that sparkles when you spin it. "Ooh, shiny!"

Yam would record a cover of "Fush, te vas" as a gift to her and Jazmin thinks it's fabulous

Pedro would give her a sign that says "Jazfans fanclub" and let all their friends sign it before he gave it to her

Nico would get her a purse to keep her belongings in - she ends up not putting anything in it and just walks around with the purse alone because she thinks it's pretty

Jim would buy her a rainbow skirt and Jazmin twirls around in it so much she trips too many times in a day

Gastón gifts her some lipstick that he saw her talk about loving in a video

Delfi makes a video talking about how important Jazmin is to her and then shows a slideshow of pictures of them with a cheesy heartfelt song in the background she definitely gets copyright for but she doesn't care!!

Woah... this took a while.

Tell me if you want me to do this with Violetta characters too... :D

[heartbeatan]

Toys: Part 6 (The Cross)

Return to The Ice Cubes.

Return to Toys Series.

Return to Namjoon Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Author: Leonardo

Rating:  🌑 (See Ratings)

Dated: 2023.04.18

Status:  Completed

Genre: Contemporary

Focus: Namjoon × Reader

Type: One-Shot

Series: Thematic (Toys)

Word Count: 22,200

The Cross

Namjoon always had an artistic eye that extended far beyond yours. The gap was pretty wide, since your idea of fine art was a fresh coat of paint on a bedroom wall, and your idea of sculpture was a handcrafted coffee mug. It was crazy to think that art had brought you two together in the first place.

It was an accident, though. The day you and he met had been when your friend, Ethan, dragged you to a flea market. Dragged was a bit of a dramatic word to use. You did love flea markets and visiting them was something you and him did often. It's just you had a wedding to go to later that day, and you would have preferred to have spent the morning pampering yourself. Your ex was going to be there, after all, and although there was nothing left to be said in that relationship, it didn’t mean you didn’t want to show up looking like you had slayed life this past year.

But you had made a promise. Ethan’s business hinged heavily on second-hand goods and antique finds, and he “needed” your help desperately today… allegedly. He often said he needed a lot of things. You did, however, plan on demanding a stipend one day when his startup became multi millions.

While he was busy sifting through antique jewelry pieces at one booth, you got lost somewhere on the other side of the barn. You had a bit of an obsession with decorative ceramics - something you were sure you inherited from your grandmothers. The second-hand ceramics booth was located next to the booth of a small business that distributed the works of local artisans. Namjoon owned that booth.

There wasn’t much separation between the two spaces, so as you wandered through your treasure trove, you slipped into his.

The pieces he sold were beautiful, but canvases of paint and charcoal were not your forte. You didn’t know much about styles and eras or techniques, nor were you much skilled in the world of interpretation. You simply looked… and you liked what you liked and didn’t like what you didn’t like.

You came across a print that gave you pause. It was dark, and ominous, mostly painted in grays and blacks, save for two tiny humanoid like figures which were pure white. It seemed like they were approaching some towering cliffs in the distance… or perhaps it was a castle of sorts? You liked what you liked, and you liked it, even though you weren’t sure what it meant.

As you stood staring at it, and staring at the price tag - which almost made you gag - that was when Namjoon approached you.

“You have a good eye,” you heard his voice behind you.

Your shoulders instantly tightened, the way they always tightened when a shopkeeper at the flea market approached you. You were easily swindled into impulse purchases when the seller gave you a personal touch and a simple pitch. You knew that about yourself. So, you tried often to dodge the gazes of sales reps if you could. But he caught you before you even knew he was there, and now, you feared he would too easily heckle you into buying something you didn’t want, need or could afford. You turned your head to look in his direction and offer him a polite smile. But when your eyes fell upon him for the first time, you realized that you were fucked.

He was… gorgeous. Tall, strong, a lean body that boasted wide shoulders and a wide chest. Dark hair styled and gelled off his forehead, but with a few strategically placed strands falling “naturally” around his eyes. His face was handsome, adorned by dimpled cheeks and a flawless brown complexion. He was wearing a simple, black button up shirt over a plain white tank, which hung just a touch lower than it needed too, exposing a hint of his well sculpted pecs beneath it. He had gray trousers on, wide in the leg but cleanly tailored, and comfortable looking as he rested his hands casually in its pockets.

His whole aura was friendly and inviting, and made you feel like he was recognizing you from many meetings before, and not just introducing himself to you for the first time. His gaze was perceptive, and warned you that if you weren’t wary, he could trap you into hours of conversation. And if you let that happen, if he worked you just the right way, you might end up buying half his merchandise.

“Not a lot of people stop to look at this one,” he continued, taking a step forward to stand next to you to stare at the frame and image. “I think at first glance it feels a bit too dark.”

“I can understand that. Who would want to feel haunted every time they went into the bathroom?”

He nodded. “You’re right. Some might, though.”

“Do you?” you asked quizzically, since something in his tone implied he may share the same values as “some people.”

“I don’t mind a good haunting,” he smiled. “How about you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t find it all that ominous to begin with.”

“Yeah? What do you see when you look at it?”

“Oh, geez, don’t ask me,” you shook your head. “I’m not good at reading into other people’s symbolism. I’d be a terrible treasure hunter.”

He laughed. Even his laugh was sexy. It felt like it turned your blood into warm honey and relaxed your mind and body.

“Don’t overthink it. Just say the first thing that's on your mind. I’m curious now.”

You looked back to the picture and scanned its sharp brush strokes and its soft blends of monochromatic shades, then to the two figures crawling bright through the darkness.

“Adventure,” you finally said, when the word had formed itself inside your head.

“Really?” he asked quizzically. His reaction made you feel you had made a mistake.

“Yeah, like… it makes me think of a scene from some fantasy movie or something.”

He nodded, his lower lip pushed out in contemplation.

“I told you I’m not good at interpretation,” you reminded him.

“No, it’s great. I just hadn’t considered that one before. I’m thinking about it.”

“Well… what do you think of when you see it?”

“Hm,” he hummed, tilting his head as he looked at the picture from another angle. “My answer sounds pretentious. I like your answer better.”

“You shouldn’t. I don’t have an eye for art.”

“Sure you do,” he nodded down at the brown paper bundle in your hand. “Unless, of course, you bought that teacup and saucer for forty bucks because you really needed something to drink out of.”

You looked down at the paper, thinking about the floral turquoise, pink and gold set wrapped up in it which you had bought moments ago in the neighboring shop.

“Were you spying on me?” you chided.

His tall and confident demeanor seemed to shift into something more sheepish and bashful. “I may have noticed you when you walked in. Your, uh… boyfriend too?”

You pursed your lips together to hold back a smile that was threatening to split your face. He was prying for your relationship status, and for some reason, you weren’t bothered by his cheesy and fast approach.

“Not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”

“Hm,” he nodded, and he seemed to be biting back an obvious smile of his own. “Point still stands. It may not be on a canvas but it’s still someone's art and it speaks to you. So, it doesn’t matter what kind of eye you have. If you’re going to buy it, it’s what you make of it that matters.”

“Well… today, it doesn’t really matter. I can’t be buying anything else for myself. What I’m really in need of is a wedding present. My friends actually have quite an art collection. Maybe I can find something here they’d like?”

He exhaled and grimaced reluctantly. “That’s tough. It’s so hard to give stuff like this as gifts. Everyone’s tastes are so different… you just never know.”

“True. Do you do gift cards?”

“I don’t,” he laughed. “I’m not a very good businessman. I should though.”

“Well, my friend - his name is Ethan - he just started his own business. But he started out in marketing. You two should talk, you could probably help each other out.”

“And how about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a lab assistant,” you almost laughed. “I’d be of no help. Unless of course you need help reading your blood test results.”

You both smiled, but then an awkward silence began to fill the space between you. It felt like you both wanted to say more, to keep each others attention, but neither knew what to do next. The more you stood there, the more you convinced yourself that his interest in your singlehoodness had more to do with being friendly and less to do with an interest in you. You took in a deep breath, readying yourself to say your goodbye to him in an even more awkward moment as you left his shop empty handed, but before you could, he spoke.

“I have an idea,” he began. “Are your friends - the ones getting married - are they from the area?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, curious about where he was going with this. “Just the next town over. Why?”

“What if for their gift, we could arrange something. Like… a private tour of my studio. I have way more variety there anyway. We can all have lunch, they can browse. They can pick whatever piece they want? How does that sound?”

“You’d do that?”

“Well… yeah… You’d have to come along, of course, since it’s your gift and all,” he pretended as if what he was saying was obvious, but it really sounded like it was all a ploy to get to see you again. “I’ll give you a good price on whatever they choose.”

“How good?” you quirked your eyebrow.

“Very.” Something about the twinkle in his eye made your stomach flip. Did reckless flirting make him a sales juggernaut, or was he really wanting you? You were pretty sure it was the latter - perhaps you needed a little courage to figure out if you were right.

“The wedding is tonight,” you told him. “I don’t have anyone to go with.”

His head tilted slightly as he searched your face for confirmation he was reading you right. “Is that so?”

“What are you doing tonight?” you asked, then held your breath as you awaited his answer.

“Hopefully canceling the plans I already have?”

“Good,” you smiled. “I’m wearing green. I’ll pick you up at six.”

⁂

The wedding had been a riot. It would have been regardless. The Sam's were a beautiful couple who only surrounded themselves with good vibes and fun people. It was pretty easy to bring your stranger as your date and not worry that he would be left alone, awkward and outcasted - not in that crowd. But you didn’t leave him alone for too long. You didn’t want to. When you were with him, conversation and flirtation flowed as smoothly as liquor coming out of the bar. Before the first dance even took place, you two had found yourself in a comfortable rhythm that rivaled all the married couples in the room. You held hands as you conversed with other guests. He smoothed his palm over your lower back as you walked around the hall. You tucked yourself under his arm as you sat at your table and listened to the speeches. And you slow-danced with each other like you had done so a thousand times before.

It was you who kissed him first - outside, under the stars in the chilly evening air. You had taken a break from the heat and the drink and the noise, but soon found yourself in a new kind of heat.

That night, he came back to your place. You weren’t one for one-night stands or flings, and you didn’t often rush intimacy with new relationships - but that night, with him, it just felt right. The whole night was right. The whole weekend, in fact, was right. He didn’t leave your bed once, and he wouldn't have had he not had to work on Monday. You planned on seeing each other again the next weekend, but it proved to be too far away. By nightfall that Monday, you were in his bed. Even if your emotional connection hadn’t been so strong, your sexual connection would have been enough to convince you to be there. His artistry extended beyond his eye and into his game between the sheets, and you were addicted to all the ways he could make you come.

By the time Samantha and Samira got back from their honeymoon, and you were able to make good on their wedding gift, you and Namjoon had fully submerged yourselves into “Horny, In Love, and In a Relationship” status - which was beneficial to you since now their gift from his studio was from the both of you, and free of charge.

Months passed, and then a year - and all seemed right in your world. You were crazy in love. You learned something new about each other every day. Sure, you bickered on occasion, the way all couples do, but you never went to bed angry. You never second guessed yourself when it came to him. He was your rock, and you were his. Everyday, you found something to be happy about in your life with him.

Soon after the one year mark of your first meeting at the flea market, Namjoon brought up the subject of moving in together. You were elated by the idea. You would have said “yes” months ago - you might have even said “yes” the day after The Sam’s wedding. It was such a contrast to your previous relationship - in which the prospect of cohabitation actually ended the union. But this time, you just knew you wanted to be with him for good, and you knew he wanted to be with you for good. You knew he was the one, and you had no worries about bringing your lives together in this very real way.

The issue, however, was how you were going to bring your lives together. You owned a small wartime house. He owned an even smaller condo. Either you both were going to need to do a major declutter to make space for the other, or you were going to have to move - which was daunting since that would mean you would need to sell then buy. Even though your circumstances were pretty good, it was still a bit of a logistical nightmare - although a nightmare that promised a blissful ending.

Today, you had been laying in bed together: him topless, his bottom half buried beneath the sheets and his back propped against the headboard; you in your bra and panties, over the sheets, glasses on and head resting over a pillow. You were both scanning the paper and web for potential homes, and brainstorming what you needed and what you could work with.

You had a lot of needs. At the moment, you were floating the idea of Namjoon giving up his rented studio space and just running his business out of your home. You figured that with a little extra money spent you could ultimately save more from giving up his studio rental fees. You also needed a home with enough space to run your new business out of, since you had recently quit the lab, and started your own private testing distribution company. He was also keen on finding a place that had extra space to fit his personal art collection. His condo, while only one bedroom, felt like a museum. He had pieces placed and mounted in nearly every space imaginable. You wanted to accommodate them all, you did - but it was just so much. You two just needed so much space, and you worried a home like that just didn’t exist in your price range.

You dropped the paper, letting it flop away from your face and down onto your belly as you looked around his room and took stock of what he had in there alone. There were six frames adorning the walls, some sort of floor-mounted sculpture, a mobile sculpture, and two surface top pieces. Damn, you’d have to patch the holes and paint when you moved out and put the place on the market.

You then turned your attention outside, peering out his patio door which led outside. It would be nice to find a place with a bit more privacy. His condo was ground level and, unfortunately, his “balcony” was next to the path leading to the visitor parking lot. No matter what time of day or night, there were always strangers passing by the place where you wanted to get away from strangers. Unfortunately, your home wasn’t much better. Your rowhouse backed onto another cluster of row houses, and everyone could see everyone else’s business if you didn’t close the curtains. And, if you did venture outside with a lawn chair, you’d soon find yourself flanked by six more lawn chairs filled with your neighbors. You didn’t really mind, it was kind of nice since you got along with all your neighbors – but, sitting outside to get away from the world was just not an option there.

Namjoon had done his best to make his tiny area private. He had placed a giant, wooden “X” sculpture (which a client of his had given him as a gift) between his property and the path to act as a privacy screen. He strung rows of ivy around it, which grew thick and wild, and hung two solar-powered lanterns from the metal loops located on the structure’s upper beams. You quite liked its rustic ambiance, and it did a good enough job to protect you from strangers… but… it could be better.

“What if we got a farm?” you said out loud before you even registered the thought.

“You wanna make wine or raise chickens or something?”

You laughed, then discarded the paper completely, tossing it to the floor before you rolled over to nuzzle into Namjoon. “I mean, maybe, but I was thinking more that we could rent out some of the land to an actual farmer and make some extra money. But also, if we got a place with a barn, we could convert it into a gallery. That could be kind of cool, right?”

“Huh,” he looked up from his screen and stared off into a benign space in the room as he thought. “Yeah, actually, that could be cool. We’d need to seriously renovate a barn though. It’s gotta be climate controlled and whatever insurance asks. Could become quite the undertaking.”

You sighed. Just one more thing to look into… costs for renovating a barn. Looking for a place to buy was fun at first, but this far in, you were just overwhelmed, and over it.

You looked at his screen. It seemed he too had given up on the stress of house hunting and embarked on a new stressor – planning his gallery event, which was to take place the following evening.

“I’m sorry, babe," he apologized. "I got so much today, I think we need to table house hunting for now.”

“That’s okay. I think I need a break from it too. It’s too much.”

“We’ll get there,” he sighed, acknowledging that he too was frustrated with the process. “But, we’re lucky, right? We have our own places, no one is on a lease. We have time to be patient. Something will work out.”

“Maybe we should consider selling your condo and getting a storage unit? I’m getting tired of living in two places. I’ve lost track of a lot of underwear.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Every time I go to get dressed it’s a struggle. I either have all shirts and no pants, or all pants and no shirts.”

“Speaking of, did you pick up your suit for tomorrow from the dry cleaners?”

“Fuck,” he cussed as he looked up, again, from his laptop. “No.”

“I’ll pick it up on my way back from my sister’s.”

“Don’t worry. It’s fine. I’ll wear something else. You enjoy your date.”

“It’s okay. We’re just doing lunch and it’s nearby. Do you need me to get anything else while I’m out?”

“No, no, babe. I got this.”

He said that the last time… and while everything did work out the last time, and the time before that… there were definitely some obstacles that could have been avoided. Art was his forte - party planning was not. He really needed an assistant - or a COO. Hopefully one day he could afford to pay one. In the interim, he had you.

“Did you pick up the liquor license?” you tried to delicately pose the question and not hurt his ego over the last crisis.

He pursed his lips and went silent - and you knew his answer.

“No,” he grumbled shamefully.

Lord, you were afraid to ask about the charcuterie boards.

“Fuck, I need to call the grocery store to order the platters.”

And there was your answer.

“Okay,” you slapped his laptop closed, “Everybody out of the bed.” You then crawled off the mattress and stood tall next to the bed, peering down at him. It was game time. “I will be back by one with the dry cleaning. You go get the license,” you pointed a finger sternly at him. “That’s the first thing you do the moment you leave this apartment. Do not forget. The office closes early today.”

“Baby, I love when you order me around,” he winked.

“We have a farm to buy, Namjoon. Focus. Don’t order the platters – I’ll make them when I get back.”

“That’s a lot of work,” he shook his head. “You don’t need to.”

“It's fine. I’m not catering a whole dinner, it's cutting up cheese and putting it on a plate with crackers. We were going to transfer it all onto my nice platters anyway, so we’re basically overpaying them to slice up cheese. It’ll be a fraction of the cost if I just do it.”

“Babe, I have the money in the budget this time. You don’t have to do that.”

“Save the money. When we’re filthy rich we’ll start paying for overpriced cheeses and people to cut them.”

“Well, that might be sooner than later, cuz Ethan is a genius. We actually sold out tonight. I might have to start doing back to back events to meet demand."

“He is a genius,” you smiled proudly. Ethan was good at marketing. And he seemed to love it. The only reason you suspected he left his corporate job was because he didn’t like the bureaucracy. Now, if only Ethan could admit to himself that he was better at marketing businesses rather than running his own. Poor guy was on his third attempt, and it was going about as good as the previous two.

Perhaps if this event really did go well, Ethan could become a more permanent fixture in Namjoon’s business. He could be exclusive, but more independent as a creative himself. Truth is, you fantasized about a future where the three of you operated a chain of galleries. Between Namjoon’s eye, your ability to analyze and manage, and Ethan’s ability to market, you really could be a powerhouse trio.

One day, maybe… but today, you needed to just get by.

“Alright, I’m going to go shower,” you announced, then turned to head towards the bathroom.

“Y/N,” he called to you just before you disappeared. You turn to look at him and wait for what he was about to say. “Thanks for helping me. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled warmly back at him.

“I owe you one… again.”

“Well…” your voice trailed off and your tone shifted. Namjoon picked up on the change immediately. “You could pay me back right now - in the shower.”

It took him a moment to realize what you were asking, but when he did, the corner of his mouth pulled into a lascivious grin - the kind that immediately lit your insides on fire. “I’m right behind you.”

⁂

Even though Namjoon had never asked you to participate in his shows as anything but yourself, you still quickly established a simple routine as his charming girlfriend: smile and inspire potential buyers; praise and congratulate the artists in attendance; make sure the picked over charcuterie boards didn’t look too depressing. As you said, you had a house to buy.

Namjoon - although he may not always have the best instincts for pre-planning a gallery event - once he was at the event, he was in his element.

You had started the evening, per usual, at his side, hand in hand. But he had a job to do - so, as the night rolled on, as per usual, you found yourself lost in the crowd while he tried to be in twelve places at once. He was mingling left and right, greeting everyone in the room, schmoozing the people with big pocketbooks for just a little longer, before slipping into the office to execute any successful transactions. It was exhausting to even watch him, but it also brought you an immense amount of pride.

Namjoon’s parties typically focused on three or four of his clients who had new works released. You weren’t really sure if that was typical of the gallery scene, but this was the way he did it. The space near the entrance housed a general collection of sample works from all his clients, but as you moved past the bars and into the back, you would step into the main room. It was a large, rectangular space with stark white walls and high ceilings that resembled a fly system above a theater stage. The room was sliced up into quadrants by moveable “walls”, so you could wander smoothly between each of the four artists' exhibits, yet still know exactly whose work you were looking at. Although, it wasn’t very difficult to discern one artist from the next. Elio was the first quadrant on the left, who did digital graphics; to the right of him was Phaidra, who was a Collage Artist and Draughtsman; behind her was the new client, Ashley, who did a variety of sculpture works, was mostly known for their Cast work, but was moving into more assemble pieces. And then… there was Pasqualina.

Pasqualina was a long term client. She was truly a jack of all trades. She did everything imaginable - from pottery to woodworking, photography to videography, drawing to painting, sculpting to installation. Hell, she even sewed her own clothes and made her own jewelry. Every time she had a new collection out, it was a surprise for everyone - you just never knew what she had been up to those weeks or months in isolation. All you needed to know was that she was working, and if she didn’t make contact by month three, you should probably call the authorities.

You hadn’t seen the exhibit yet, but you had gotten a bit of the lowdown from Namjoon. In short, this collection was about sex.

And, like her vast diversity of skill, her collection was diverse. Diverse in artistic mediums, and diverse in content. It was about all kinds of sex; all kinds of people having sex; all kinds of ways in which people have sex; all the ways in which people consume sexual content.

Sex. Sex. Sex.

She had apparently been working on this for years. To you, it felt like her work was more of a thesis rather than an exhibit.

Just before you entered her section, you caught a pair of eyes looking across the room at you. It was Namjoon. Since at these events you were technically his date but you couldn’t spend a lot of time with him, this was pretty normal. Every once in a while, he’d look for you, and he’d look at you with love and appreciation for your mere presence and support - it made your chest flutter. But at this moment, as you were about to enter the avant-garde section of the gallery, he winked and looked at you with a darkness that slithered down your spine. You bit your lip to suppress a blush and winked back at him. Namjoon was pretty exhausted after every show, but tonight maybe you might get lucky thanks to the content.

The exhibit was fairly well organized. Each section centered around a sculpture of sorts Pasqualina created. The first sculpture was a neutral figure, ethereally representing a human body, but it appeared to be made entirely of undergarments - from cotton boxers and briefs, to silky bras and panties, and lacey lingerie and pleather adornments. Surrounding the sculpture hung its complimentary works of art - some paintings, a charcoal sketch, some photographs, and a few other smaller table top or wall hung forms. Everything, in either an abstract or a concrete way, represented intimate clothing.

The section you found the most remarkable was the one dedicated to ropes. Pasqualina had created a mobile made entirely of rope and was controlled by some robotics. It hung in front of a flat, white screen which showcased the imagery from a projector set up behind it. The images were renderings of people suspended in various Kinbaku poses, and as the images shifted, the robotic mobile would shift along with it, so that the 3D rope would align with the 2D image and give the appearance that it was in fact holding the figures in the video. As much as it was cool to see, and as beautiful and sexy she made the display look, you were stunned at the thought of how much precision and planning it would have taken to get it just right.

Another section caught your attention, however, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint why… the Saint Andrew's Cross. You were aware of what it was - although, it wasn’t until reading the display blurb that you realized it had an official name and wasn’t solely called “one of those big sex X’s.” Tonight, you learned that it had been named after someone who had allegedly been crucified on one. But that wasn’t the part that caught your attention. Something was… familiar?

You explored the associating images. One canvas held a digital graphic of a white, pink and black, single-line drawing of a man bound to the cross. Another image - one you particularly liked was of an older woman, her every limb completely and intricately bound to the legs of the cross, while a wand vibrator was tied tight to her pussy. It was a beautifully taken photograph, but it was also hot as all hell. You didn’t know much about that world, but your libido certainly seemed to like the concept, even if your head was slightly in the dark. What would this be like in the real world? Who controlled the wand? Was it on a remote, or was it just left on full blast? Would your partner just watch you lazily from the corner of the room? Touch himself while he did? Would he stop the toy and unbind you once you came? Or would he leave you there to squirm and whine your way through the sensitivity until you came again?

Your body shivered, and you subtly shook off the feelings of arousal these thoughts had brought you.

After exploring each of the pieces, you took one more moment to examine the Cross again - there was just… something…

⁂

As the evening ended, and the guests left, Namjoon was still busy with whatever it was he had to do before he could call it quits. While he did, you slipped into the backroom, kicked off your heels, and curled yourself up on a couch. You were grateful that tonight, despite pulling yourself into the tightest and more unforgiving black dress you owned, you had the sense of mind to forgo your Spanx and shapewear. They would have been a real burden by now.

You weren’t sure how quickly you passed out on that couch, and you weren’t sure how long you had been sleeping when you woke to the feel of Namjoon’s hand warm on your waist, and his voice soothingly calling your name.

“Ready to go?” he asked, barely louder than a whisper.

“I didn’t pack up the food or anything,” you said as you stretched the sleep out of your body.

“I did it. Everything is in the truck already.”

“Mm,” you nodded, then sat up and looked around - pleased to find that you weren’t too groggy. “What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

“Oh, good.” You were pleased by that too. The night was still young. Sometimes he didn’t get out until well after two in the morning. “How did it go?”

“Amazing,” he gushed, his whole face brightening the dimly lit room. “Sold about 90% off the floor. Have quite a few appointments for later in the week to look at what wasn’t on display.”

“Aw,” you smiled. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he leaned in and gave you a gracious peck on the lips.

“Mm, I don’t know, but I’ll take the compliment," you said as you banded your arms over his shoulders. "Are we going to be able to afford the farm?”

“If the next few shows go as well as this one, we might be able to afford two.”

“Ooo, Mr. Moneybags. That’s so sexy.”

“Somehow I knew you were only after me for my wealth.”

You chuckled, and he smiled - then you pulled yourselves together to kiss once more, this time letting your lips linger. His hand, which had been on your waist, began to slip slowly south - over your hip, along your outer thigh - until it brushed past the hem of your dress - at which point it took a directional change, and you felt his palm warm and smooth as it slid up your skin beneath your skirt. You smiled against his lips - you were definitely getting lucky tonight.

“You know,” you whispered, then mischievously flicked your eyebrows. “I stole a bottle of champagne so we could celebrate.”

“Y/N,” his voice was dark and teasing, “that champagne was paid for by the gallery.”

“Am I in trouble, sir?" you pouted.

"Mm,” he hummed, ignited by your words. “Keep that up and you might be.”

You quirked your eyebrow - you wouldn’t mind getting into a little trouble tonight. The sooner you got out of there, the sooner you could get into more trouble.

“You, uh, wanna do a lil walk-through before we go?” he asked.

It was a simple question: usually, before any show, he would give you a sneak peak of the exhibits. Just you and him, wandering the displays while he’d enthusiastically give you the rundown of every piece, and in return you’d offer your layman's thoughts. Pasqualina’s setup was so intricate and quite literally took up to the very last minute to complete, so you didn't get the chance to walk through prior. But when he asked you this time, there was a touch of gravel in his voice, and the hint of a twinkle in his eye. You suspected him asking you now had less to do with your tradition, and more to do with the sexy setup in general. As you thought about it, the instinctual part of you that wanted to get back to the privacy of his condo began to fade away, and the part of you that was rather excited at the idea of walking alone, late at night, with your incredibly sexy (and awake) boyfriend, through a literal museum of smut, began to win.

“I think I wanna do that very much,” you replied to him, your voice very much matching his suggestive tone.

“Excellent,” the twinkle in his eye now more than just a hint, and the suggestion in his voice easily causing your stomach to flip. He stood up and stretched out his hand to you. You grabbed your heels and your purse, and took his hand, then the two of you made your way out of the back room and into the main area.

⁂

As it turned out - you didn’t need to steal a bottle of champagne - Namjoon already had one waiting on ice. So, once again, you found yourself standing at the edge of the sexy area, peering in at the space with intrigue while Namjoon poured you a fresh flute of bubbly.

“This one was something, wasn’t it?” he smiled as he took your hand in his, then guided you both across the threshold into the exhibit.

“It really was,” you agreed. “Even though a lot of it was so explicit, it didn’t feel… pornographic. She did a great job. Everything was beautiful and interesting.”

“What was your favorite?”

“Well…” your eyes wandered around the space, landing on a few pieces you remembered vividly, and noticing a few others you couldn’t recall seeing at all. You then spotted the Kinbaku mobile that you had loved so much. It looked kind of depressing now that it was hanging flaccid in the air with no accompanying video – but the amount of awe it had left you made it worthy of your Top 5.

“That…” you pointed upward at it. “It was pretty damn cool. I assume it’s what took all the last-minute prep?”

“It was,” his neck quirked as he recalled the memory. “It was intense. I’ve never seen her that panicked before. But it was worth it.”

“Did anyone buy it?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Now that is intense. I mean, it was cool and all, but I don’t know if I would want it in my house.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled as he took a sip of his champagne.

“I mean, where would you even put it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’ve got a sex dungeon or something.”

“Ooo,” you cooed. “That would be a fun room to decorate. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll find a farm with a dungeon - or one of those tornado bunkers.”

“Ha!” he laughed. “Yeah, sure. Just another thing to add to the list.” He lifted your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of your hand. “What else did you like?”

“Um, her digital drawings were great. And I did really like the panty sculpture.”

“Me too. Would you put it in our house?”

“If I wasn’t afraid of my mother seeing it,” you grimaced. “I’d put it in our dungeon, though.”

He smiled again, amused by your playful banter – but you could see he was also a touch excited by the idea.

You two lingered through the exhibit, exploring each section and taking time with every single piece. You both dissected each item as if the subjects depicted were as benign as an apple, and the art itself was as existential as June Leaf. But what you didn’t discuss was how incredibly stimulating it all was - how each scene before you sparked a heat between your thighs, or made your spine tighten and your skin tingle. The flesh beneath Namjoon’s hand, which was now around your hip, felt sensitive and even arousing. When you’d pause in front of something that caught your biblical attention, he would pull your body against his – your back flush against his chest, your ass tight against his hips – and then your everything would buzz, feeling as sensitive as all hell. There was something hot about not talking about the erotic elephant in the room.

He too was unraveling against you. You could feel his heart beating heavily in his chest and hear his quiet breaths becoming dense.

Eventually, he gave up on the charade of pretending like all this was in the name of artistic appreciation. He wrapped his arm tight around your waist, while his champagne hand brushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck long to him. Your eyes closed, and you felt your body melt into his when his mouth landed warm and wet over your neck, then trailed long, slow kisses north towards your jaw.

“So, which one’s turned you on the most?” he whispered against your ear, before taking a nibble on the lobe.

“Are you sure you wanna know?” you asked, your hips now swaying against his while you smoothed your hands over his arms encasing you.

“Mm hm,” he hummed into your flesh.

“I… liked the tentacle drawings. The Hentai looking stuff.”

He pulled out from your crook to look at you – not in judgment – just surprised by your answer. “Really?”

“Yeah. I felt a little weird at first for liking it, but… I don’t know, something about it was super hot.”

He grinned. He took your champagne flute and discarded both of them on a tall table, then took your hand again and walked you to the section you were referring to. Once again, he wrapped his arms around you, and your bodies molded together as you swayed in tandem with each other.

“What was so hot about it?” he asked.

You didn’t need to think too much about it. You had made peace with your feelings about its strangeness hours ago.

“Well… this one,” you pointed to a small trivision-board-like setup. It rotated constantly, revealing three images, and thus giving the illusion that the images were all one in motion. The focus was of an alien, who really just looked human save for the shape of her ears. She was held in the clutches of some large, blueish creature. It restrained her arms and her legs in its tentacles, even holding her tight at the waist, and her head high by the neck. Its other appendages pleasured her in every way they could. Two pinched and twisted her nipples, while one played with her clit, and another slipped deep and slick inside her. In the real world, you would absolutely be horrified if you came across a giant creature such as this – but standing there, looking at the work in all its fantastical glory, you couldn’t deny that the thought of being held and fucked like that wouldn’t be in your top sexual fantasies of all time. “She's… restrained… and at someone else’s mercy. But all they want to do is fuck her to please her. It’s sexy as hell.”

“I like that idea too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. I think that’s why the St. Andrew’s Cross is my favorite.”

You felt giddy from his confession. You liked that about the cross as well. You had already fantasized about it several times over since you saw it, and especially since you inspected its accompanying images. You shuffled awkwardly towards it – only awkward because Namjoon still had a tight hold on your torso. But you made your way to it, and stood in front of it, once again admiring its ominous presence and its intriguing potential.

It only took moments until Namjoon resumed his heated assault on your body. His ministrations graduating from groping your clothed body, to now brushing his hands dangerously high beneath your skirt. The pads of his fingers danced in the space between your thighs and pulled high around the hollow where your hips and legs met - teasing you with the prospect of finding refuge beneath your panties. But he didn’t - at least not yet. His thumbs would play with the band of your panties, and your mind and body begged him to strip you of them - but just before you thought he would, he’d smooth his palm south once more, over your upper and inner thighs - his nails raking enticingly just past your pussy, which was dampening with every unkept promise.

His mouth continued to caress the bare skin at your neck, and his teeth and tongue played gently with your ear. Your ass grinded into his groin, and you could feel his pants stiffening against you. Fuck, you wanted him to take you there, right then.

He then cupped your heat firm in his palm, while his other hand moved roughly over your dress before it dipped beneath the neckline and grabbed a fist full of your breast. You exhaled a small sob as your body fashioned itself into his form. Your one hand brushed over his arm between your legs, encouraging him to stay there and perhaps do a little more, while the other reached over your shoulder and grabbed a fist full of the hair at the back of his head.

“Oh!” you keened as his palm pulled hard on your pussy and pressed your hips even higher and further into him. Shit! You needed to get out of there before you took matters into your own hands and fucked him stupid right here on the gallery floor. Perhaps you could rendezvous in his office again. You had only done it once, but it was hot as fuck. It had happened the first time you visited his studio, right after you started dating and you two were insatiably fucking on every surface available to you. You remembered that time specifically, because it had been the first time he had truly debased and dominated you in all the right ways. It had been a hot summer day, and you had on a cute, tan, linen skirt which you paired with a simple, but light, white blouse. It was midday, and he brought you to the office after he closed the gallery doors for lunch. He sat in his chair, looking at you with that inquisitive gaze of his, like he was assessing you, and plotting what he’d do to you. He asked you to take off your panties, and you near salivated at the idea of obeying him. You did. Then he told you to stand in front of him, which you also did - gliding tepidly across the room to stand between his desk and his widespread knees. He told you to bend over and put your hands on the desk. You did that too, presenting your bare ass and even barer pussy to him. You remembered how your insides tingled with anticipation, then with inhibition, as he took so damn long to do… anything.

But you also remembered how much it shocked your system when you felt his long, wide tongue lick firm and slow along your slit. You remembered how your body shivered when he did it again, and how it quaked when he gripped your ass cheeks in his palms, and kicked your feet wider so he could eat even more of you.

He still had that desk in his office. It was old, wobbled, and the drawers were crooked and falling apart. It needed to be replaced. There were a few scratch marks that broke the surface’s thick painted and re-painted coat. Those marks were created by you, when Namjoon had you mindless and teetering on the edge of going insane if you didn’t come. Your nails scratched into the decrepit desk when he finally stood from his seat and slid his thick, long cock inside you.

He fucked you mercilessly, testing the legs of the desk and testing your threshold for capitulation. It was one of your most memorable sexual encounters. Tonight might shape out to be memorable as well.

You unwound yourself from his grip and turned to face him - pressing your breasts against his chest, smoothing your palm around his neck as you pulled him into a deep and passionate battle of tongue, and letting your other hand dip low to grope him over his pants.

He kneaded the fleshy mounds of your backside, sinking his fingers into the tissue and groaning into your kiss when you palmed him just right. He wanted more - the way you had wanted more. And he wanted it right now, the way you had wanted it right when it was he who was playing with you.

You ended the kiss, but your noses continued to tickle, and your lips still hovered near each other, wanting to engage once more.

“I think, Mr. Moneybags,” you made a move with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clank an arousing sound between the breathy and needy pants heard between you. “It might be time you get a new desk. Perhaps we should give the one you got one last hooray before it goes to the graveyard?”

“Mm,” he hummed, liking the idea. “I like that desk though. Every time I see your nail marks in it, I think about you bent over it.”

“I like that,” you smiled. “Let’s go create a few more?”

“Actually, babe…” he reached down and grabbed your wrists, pulling them away from his pants. He then raised your one arm above your head and twirled you around - like you were dancing - until your back was to him once more, and he was holding you close to him as you once again stared at the St. Andrew’s Cross. He pressed his chin to your head, and you felt his breath fan over your cheek. “I was thinking, maybe we give this a try.”

Your mind sort of froze… sort of…

You were pretty confident that what he meant by “this” was the Cross. The only reason why your brain froze was because “this” was a piece of art. Namjoon took his job very seriously - so it stumped you that he could possibly even think about degrading a piece of art by fucking on it - even if the art was made for fucking in the first place.

You twisted your lips, skeptical that you had heard him right. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“It’s very much against the rules.”

“But… you still want to?”

“I very much want to. I think you’d look really good strung up to that thing. You wanna break some rules with me, Y/N?"

You shivered at the mere suggestion. A part of you - albeit a very small part of you - ran through a list of consequences for engaging in this forbidden behavior: getting caught, causing damage, some sort of ethical question as to whether it should be sold afterward. But, again, that part of you and its list was small. The other part had a forbidden list of its own - a list of why the forbidden was intoxicating: getting caught, touching something that wasn’t supposed to be touched, being restrained in the middle of the night in a public space when you should be sound asleep at home. All the reasons why you shouldn’t were also all the reasons why you wanted to. So, with a salacious grin curving your lips, you took a breath and announced your decision.

“Let’s do it.”

“Alright,” he agreed, satisfaction and deviousness filtering his voice. The backs of his fingers tickled softly down the length of your body, until they reach the bottom hem of your dress. He twisted the fabric in his grip, then pulled north, slipping the cotton over your thighs, your hips, your waist. You raised your arms, letting him pull it the rest of the way off of you, then he tossed it to the side - leaving you exposed in the brightly lit space in nothing but your black lacey bra and matching panties. Once again, you appreciated your instinct to avoid any shapewear tonight.

You turned to face him, and as his mouth came down to devour yours, he walked you backwards and towards the cross, while you worked away at unbuttoning his shirt. You felt the wood hard at your back, as he shoved you just a little harder than necessary against it. His tongue dove deeper, firmer into your mouth, massaging yours hot and wet with his. Your hips pressed firm into each other’s, in a seesaw of needing to feel each other, but also in need of space to get him naked enough too. You worked a little faster at his shirt, and he nearly ripped it when he helped you pull it off his shoulders.

Your kisses became even more manic as you tugged at his belt - your lips only parting for the brief moment when he pulled his undershirt over his head, and bared his broad, sculpted chest to you to caress and press yourself against. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him warm and needy beneath your palms. But you needed to first reduce his pants to a pool on the floor. So, you did, and the sound of his belt was heard skidding across the floor when he kicked everything to the side.

You now made out with ferocity, your hands scratching across every ridge and valley his muscular body formed, him gripping and twisting your flesh with a bruising force - your hips rolling in tandem as his cock grew harder and harder against you. You knew that using the cross properly required someone to be cuffed and bound against it - but in truth, you might not make it that far if you didn’t slow down.

You gripped him hard under the chin, forcing his head to raise so he had to peer down at you over his nose. You looked up at him with rogue delight, inspired by the feeling of dominance this simple gesture brought you. Tonight, you absolutely wanted to be his little fuck toy bound tight and helpless to this heavy device at your back… but, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t enjoy a little detour first.

You guided him to the right as you stepped to the left, until he was the one whose back was against the wood, and you were the one standing authoritatively before him.

His eyes sparkled with intrigue and curiosity as he came to realize how the roles weren’t panning out the way he expected.

“I thought you wanted to be fucked silly, Y/N,” he said, a touch of defiance in his words.

“I do,” you smiled, but not in a way that encouraged calm. “But I just think that you, as my caring, loving boyfriend, should try it out first. Or are you afraid?”

“Should I be afraid?” he asked, although he sounded far from afraid.

“I guess we’ll find out, Joon,” you winked, then reached up to grab the cuff above his left shoulder.

The cuffs were easy enough to work - you and Namjoon weren’t exactly foreigners to them in the first place. You started with his wrists, giving the leather straps a tight tug before you moved onto your next task - not enough to hurt him, just enough to let him know his place. You then brought your face to his, inching forward to kiss him - but when you were close enough that he could reach forward and kiss you, you dipped your body low and out of his reach - leaving him chomping at air and laughing in a harsh mix of wanting, frustration and arousal. You kissed your way down his chest, letting your hands smooth over his every glorious hill and chasm, taking an extra moment or two to let your tongue play with his nipples - just the way he liked, and just enough to elicit a grumble in the back of his throat.

You dipped further south, licking softly over the skin between his navel and his boxers. His pelvis jerked and quivered a few times - especially when you played with the southern regions of his v-lines and happy trail. His cock was already solid as a rock and straining against his boxers. It wanted so badly to be touched and licked and inside anything. You wanted it in your hand, and in your mouth, and your gut - but restraint was the purpose of the Cross - so even you as the one in charge, needed to exercise it.

You straightened your legs, letting your breasts brush deliberately over his bulge as you made your way to stand tall in front of him. He took in a sharp breath of air as you pressed your body against his while you reached for the straps dangling behind where the large pieces of lumber met. You could feel his erection against your belly, and you held the contact while you pulled the strapping around his waist and secured his torso tightly to the device.

The slight but intentional contact was making him crazy, and it was making him even crazier now that he struggled to gain more friction. The chains at his wrist jangled when he made an unconscious move to grab a hold of you, and his body made a thud as he tried to thrust his pelvis against you, only to be held back by the restraint around his core.

You stepped backwards, breaking all contact and smiled triumphantly. For a second it looked like he could have killed something to get to you and get your body back grinding over his dick. But he didn’t… he couldn’t. Pasqualina’s work was always very, very thorough.

You had one more task to complete before you could give him what he wanted. You dropped to the floor and took his ankle in your hands. You guided him to shuffle his feet wide until they aligned with the cuffs at the base of the wooden legs.

After you strapped him in tight, you rose from the floor and stood a mere few inches before him, smugly watching his face for every micro-reaction he had, while your fingertips danced teasingly over his abs and thighs, then played beneath the waistband of his underwear.

“Should you call me Mistress?” you taunted him, tilting your head arrogantly.

“I’ll call you whatever you fucking want,” he breathed, the words almost not making it off his tongue.

“You want me to touch you?”

He looked at you like you were crazy. Of course, he fucking wanted you to touch him. But this was the game, and he needed to learn how to play it.

“Yes.”

“‘Yes’ what?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Ooo,” you patronized him. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Keep playing, Y/N,” he retaliated with an admonishing quirk of his eyebrow. “You’re just giving me ideas.”

“Mistress,” you reminded him.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, the whistle a warning as well a final vestige of his defiance. “Mistress.”

“Good boy,” you grinned. You stepped forward, ensuring his eyes stayed laser focused on yours, because you wanted to enjoy the way his breath hitched and how his shoulders lifted and tightened when you grabbed harshly on his bulge. You began rubbing him over his boxers in long, smooth, firm motions, and reveled in how his throat bobbed before your eyes as he swallowed back his groans. You lifted your freehand and brought a pointed finger to the base of his throat.

“You like this?” you asked, as you drew a line down the center of his chest. “You like how I touch you?”

He swallowed again, and opened his mouth to answer, but you spoke before he could utter a word.

“Be sure of your answer, baby,” you warned him. The reason why Namjoon was such a monster between the sheets was because he never had an issue being vocal. Whether you were in the thralls of romance or filth, if he wanted something, he said it. If you wanted something, he demanded to hear it. If you were back home right now - perhaps still trapped in the front hall in a heavy groping session, he would have told you that he wanted your hand raw on his bare, slickened cock - not guarded by his Kleins. If he had use of his hands, he’d probably right now also be fucking you with them. Back at the condo, or in your house, or on his desk, or in his truck, wherever it was you were, he was often the one in charge. He took what he wanted when it came to you - and gave it back to you tenfold. You loved it. But sometimes, you wanted to be the one with the heavy-hand, and today you found your opportunity. Today, he had no choice but to take what he got at your discretion. Today, he had no choice but to learn to behave. “Now, what were you going to say?”

He closed his mouth, and you watched as a muscle ticked in his jaw as he rearranged his statement.

“I love how you touch me, Mistress.”

“Good,” you smiled, then you rewarded him. You trailed your hand high, then dipped your fingers beneath his waistband, and dropped your palm deep into his boxers, fisting him at the base, then stroking him north just the way he liked.

“Ugh,” a soft, but heavy groan escaped his throat and pushed itself between his lips. You swirled your thumb over his tip, happy to feel a plentiful bounty of precum beading from it. You twisted your wrist, pumping down then up again, spreading his lube across his shaft, and finding a pleasing rhythm.

“You like this?” you asked him, as you swirled your fingers around his sensitive tip, causing him to choke on his own throat.

“Yes,” he husked.

“You want more?” you asked, your tone issuing another “tread lightly” warning, which he caught.

“Is that question a trap?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I like whatever you think I deserve, Mistress.”

“You think you deserve your cock in my mouth?”

“Ha,” the word sounded like a laugh, but in reality, was a sob. “Please.”

“Do you deserve it, Namjoon?”

He searched your face, unsure of the right answer, and unsure if he could keep his eyes from rolling back into his skull.

“Yes,” he finally announced, with much authority. You supposed since he wasn’t sure of the right answer, he figured he should at least answer with confidence.

“Why?”

He choked again as you dipped your fingers low and found that sweet spot behind his balls that made him melt like butter in your hands. The delicious rattle of the chains sounded again through the space as his limbs all shuddered and twitched.

“Because... I’ve been good.”

“You have,” you smiled. “You want your hands back?”

You knew he did. He loved to touch you when you were sucking him off. He loved fisting your hair, and you loved feeling his pleasure as pain on your scalp. He also loved to touch your hands which roamed the expanse of his torso, or fist the chair arms or pillows that encased him. He would definitely want his hands – but no matter what his answer was, he wasn’t going to get them.

“Yes, please.”

“Oops,” you patronized him, finding an opportunity to deny him. “You didn’t say ‘Mistress.’ I guess you don’t deserve your hands, baby.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whined – although you weren’t sure if it was from the pull of your wrist around his dick, or the denial of his needs that had him cursing you.

“Oh, baby… two strikes. Now, I don’t think you deserve my mouth at all.”

“Y/–”

“Careful, Joon,” you raised a finger to his lips. “Because the next thing to be taken away is my hands.”

His tongue jutted into his cheek as he bit down on it, frustration visibly whirling through him like a storm. This round he had not only lost his typical leadership, he had also lost the ability to say and ask for whatever the hell he wanted. He was trying to learn, but a part of you hoped he was a slow learner.

“Now,” you twisted firm on his shaft again, and he hissed. “Did you have something to say? Or are you going to let me rub your cock in peace.”

“I have nothing to say, Mistress.”

“Good.” You removed your hand from his pants, then pulled at the waistband, shuffling it over his hips, his thighs, until they couldn’t slide any further without tearing. Then, you stood in front of him and stuck out your palm below his face. “Spit.”

He wanted to smile, but you think he was holding it back from you in a silent rebellion. He worked his mouth, and then did as you said, spitting into your palm a quality amount of saliva. You brought your hand back to his cock and rubbed his shaft in his own fluid. Then, you resumed hand fucking him, your up and down motions now seamless and smooth. With his underwear discarded, you worked your other hand into the mix - tugging and massaging his balls, pressing his perineum like a button on a console.

You worked him expertly with all the tricks you knew, and it wasn’t long before Namjoon began to crumble like a sandcastle caught in a wave.

“Oh,” his body shivered, and his eyes fought to stay open and not squeeze painfully shut. His breaths were audible and spasmed in pitch with every single inhale and exhale. “Ugh,” he groaned louder into the space, and it was a pleasant accompaniment to the squelch of your wrist twisting over his wet dick. “Oh, fuck… ba… ugh…” he sobbed again. He wasn’t quite yet on the brink of coming, but he wasn’t far away. He was somewhere in the forest, lost and oblivious as he searched for the ledge. To his detriment, however, his haze also made him forgetful…

“Fuck, Y/N… make me come…”

You immediately released your grip on him and stood back, placing your hands on your hips and glaring at him with a glib expression. It took him a moment to realize what he had done, and when he did, his eyes widened in what you could only describe as fear.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he fumbled the words.

“Third strike. I warned you, Namjoon. My hands would be the next thing to go.”

“What are you gonna do then, babe?” his apology flared into a challenge. “Leave me up here?”

“Good idea. I think I will.” With that, you turned on your heels and walked away from him and around the corner. You chuckled quietly when you heard him call to you. You weren’t really planning on leaving him there, you were just going to get a needed supply - but he didn’t need to know that, and you didn’t need to rush.

You returned with the chair from his office, and his head tilted as you pulled it up just a few feet in front of him. You then stepped up to his left wrist and released the cuff. He looked stunned, and even more stunned when you didn’t release the rest of him. You returned to the chair and took a seat and watched him struggle to pull the pieces of your jigsaw together.

“What are you doing?” he asked, when curiosity got the best of him.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you showed him. You shuffled comfortably back in his chair and spread your legs wide for him to see your everything. You brought your hand to your breast, then let it draw slowly, and erotically down the middle of your body, until your fingers could slip under the band of your panties. You dug deep and drew a long, firm line along the length of your pussy, exhaling an exaggerated moan for Namjoon to watch and hear.

“Well, fuck,” he scoffed, forgetting how blue-balled and hanging you had left him only moments ago.

You pulled your fingers through your folds again, slickening them in your wetness, then brought the pads to your clit and began circling the bud with a warm-up pressure. Your free arm rested on the armrest of his chair, and you lifted a finger to your mouth so you could bite down on the knuckle. You let another moan escape you, and allowed your body to wriggle for Namjoon’s viewing pleasure.

“You look fucking good, Y/N,” he said with a throaty darkness. That’s when he made the move to touch himself - and that’s when you decided to impart the rules upon him.

“You have a choice,” you barked, and it made him freeze in his tracks. “If you touch yourself now, you better make it good, because that’s the only way I’ll be letting you come.”

His eyes flared and he craned his neck again as he tried to find your angle. “And if I don’t?” he asked.

“If you don’t, then I’ll fuck you with my mouth.” You decided to punctuate the ultimatum by pulling your fingers from between your legs, and popping two of them deep into your mouth, staring at him through your lashes as you sucked yourself off your fingers.

“Shit, just strap me back in, baby,” he conceded, lifting his free wrist back to the cuff it had previously been held by.”

“Nah-ah,” you shook your head, then shoved your hand down your panties again, letting your body twist to show him how good it felt. “This is how you earn it, baby.”

“I don’t know if I like this side of you. You’re cruel.”

You smiled villainously. “So, what’s your choice?”

He didn’t need a pause to decide, but he took one anyway - perhaps preparing himself mentally for the amount of restraint he’d have to muster to survive the next few minutes. “Proceed.”

“Good luck,” you winked, then you snuggled further back into the chair, and went to town.

He watched your every move and every reaction like you were one of his works of art. Every time you felt a heat rise and expand from your clit, it was like he could feel it too. When you sunk your fingers deep inside your chamber, his whole body twitched like it was his dick that was invading your insides and shifting your kidneys. He wanted to stroke himself so many times. His hand reached for his throbbing, dripping cock like it was owned by a phantom – like he couldn’t control it, or was even aware of it at all. Eventually, he wrapped it around the wooden arm behind him and clenched his fingers into the structure in an attempt to restrain his extremity without true restraint.

Your body tingled from deep within and outward to every part of you. You knew very well how to make yourself come, but you wanted to put on a show for him and stave off your orgasm long enough to make him foam at the mouth. But it was difficult under his sharp, haunting and heated gaze. You had never felt so desired or so needed before, and it was spinning your libido into a frenzy. Your head rolled back as you sighed a pleasurable and frustrated noise of your own, while you curled your knuckles against that hot spot embedded against your silky walls. Your wrist began to cramp, and your legs began to shake – but you were caught between wanting to break and wanting to explode. Your chest began to rise and fall with your rapid, shallow breaths as all the energy you had began to piece itself together to create your crescendo.

“You gonna come, Mistress?” Namjoon’s thick voice called to you. Your eyes sprung open, as if in shock - since you had momentarily forgotten he was in the room at all.

You rolled your head forward so you could meet his eyes. “I am.”

“Fuck, I wanna be the one who makes you come. I wanna feel it.”

“Ugh!” you keened as you remembered vividly how amazing it felt to come around him.

“Come over here, Y/N. Let me finish you off.”

“No,” you huffed, as your climax was beginning to take its hold.

“Let me touch myself, please, Mistress.”

“No,” you ordered even louder, and even through the blood pumping in your ears, you could feel a growl tremor through his chest. “Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. His voice also tremored, as if he was stroking his cock while he watched you. Truthfully, he could have been, but you couldn’t see him anymore to be sure. Your neck was stretched backward, and your eyes were squeezed shut. The muscles of your thighs and abs squeezed, as well as your wrist which snapped harshly in and out of you, the heel of your hand also roughly assaulting your pulsing clit.

“Oh… ah! Ah!” your lungs signaled the beginning of your fall, and less than a second later, you came. Your body simultaneously stretched and shrank as bands of electricity tightened and released your ligaments and tissue. Fire blasted through your every vein, licking every sensor your body had, and your pussy palpitated around your fingers while your hips rolled into your own palm. “Ah!” you called out again, as your orgasm reignited and shot a fresh wave of pleasure through you, causing your belly to quake violently, and your lungs to collapse in on themselves.

You were sure you could have pumped yourself into another wave of pleasure, but your wrist cramped tight and near immobilized. “Oh… shit…” you exhaled when you gave up, relaxing your limbs and running your fingers through your hair and off your face. You sucked on your lip as a satiated smile formed on your mouth.

Namjoon didn’t say anything, and your eyes were still closed, but even though you were still in the entrails of your orgasm, you could sense his sexual vexation through the air.

“How are you doing over there, babe?” you asked, a touch of wicked delight to your words.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he gruffed, his words not touched but engulfed with annoyance. “You’re so fucking wet, I swear I can smell it.”

You looked down at yourself, partially expecting to see an obvious stain adorning your panties, but the black lace gave nothing away. He was being dramatic. But that was okay with you.

You closed your knees and tested the strength of your legs, before you stood up from the chair then made your way across the floor to stand in front of him. When you reached him, you gasped as he roughly grabbed your wrist with his free hand, and immediately brought your sticky fingers to his lips. He took them deep into his mouth as his tongue gluttonously cleansed your digits of your cum. His eyes were closed, like the flavor of you was something cooked up by a Michelin chef and was to be savored. When his pull had nothing left but the tips of your fingers in his lips, his eyes popped open to look hungrily and dangerously back at you. He hummed a sound that was satisfied, but also disappointed and starving for more.

“I’m gonna have more of that before we leave this gallery, Y/N. I promise.”

Your pussy pulsed. It wanted to be the one that was now nailed to the cross – but you still had a needy boyfriend to torture. You twisted your hand in his grip, taking a hold of his wrist and bringing it back to its rightful place in the handcuff. Then you returned to him and began licking and kissing your way down his neck and torso.

“Are you ready for your reward, Joon?” you asked when you were face-to-face with his belly button.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said assuredly. His confidence had obviously grown since he succeeded in not masturbating to the view of you masturbating.

You then kneeled before him, fisting his cock once more and pumping it rapidly a few times as you let saliva build in your mouth.

You first licked a long, hot line, from base to tip, up the prominent vein of his shaft. He whimpered a near painful sounding noise, one you hadn’t heard from him before. It was addicting to see him undone and helpless like this. You wanted to see how much you could extract from him before you let him come. You licked another line, and he rewarded you with another noise, this one coming from a place further in his chest. You blew a whistle of air over the path you had forged, and his hips shuddered at the sensation, causing another thud from his restraints around his waist.

You pumped him again with your wrist, just a few motions, then you looked up at him through your lashes, meeting his desperate and hard gaze, then let your tongue fall from your mouth – this time licking a wide circle around his tip.

“Fu… fuck…” he breathed.

You brushed your free hand up his thigh, then over his abs, spreading your fingers wide over his skin as you surrounded the tip of his cock with your lips. As expected, the chains clanged again in his unconscious attempt to reach for you. He swore again – this time it was completely dowsed in frustration.

Then, finally, after you had him properly quivering beneath your ministrations, you widened your mouth, and took him deep into your throat. His body jerked as you did, but you were pleasantly surprised by how restrictive the restraints were on his body. His hips wanted to thrust violently, but they couldn’t – no matter how much he wanted to or how much he tried. You had so much power right now, and it was intoxicating. You hollowed your cheeks, tightening around him, then you pulled slowly north – creating a vacuum that made a popping noise when you freed his dick from your mouth. You went in again, taking him further this time, and pulled again, this time not letting him go.

You then found your path, your rhythm, and began bobbing your head on and off his cock – finding more and more delicious sounds he could make in gratitude. You worked your hands into the mix – one massaging his balls while the other pumped in sync with your head.

“Fuck… Y/N… I…” he strangled himself on the air escaping his lungs. “Fuck… baby…”

You shifted your hands over his hips, then behind his ass, and pulled him closer, firmer, and deeper as you took him further into your throat. For some reason, he near collapsed from the feeling of being drawn into you like this. Perhaps he would have collapsed had he not been tethered to the cross. You felt a warning climax fire through his system as his everything vibrated like a strummed guitar string.

Then, his orgasm began to appear. You knew all the signs by heart. You knew by how he breathed, by how his speech slurred, and how his body quaked, and by the way his eyes rolled back that he was moments away from spilling into you. He was climbing, step by step by step until…

… you pulled off of him just in the nick of time.

“Y/N!” he growled, truly angered by the loss of his climax. But then he immediately apologized – which you laughed at. You had sworn at him under the same circumstances time and time again. You were happy you had the chance to pay it back.

You stepped forward, his erection once again firm against your belly, and he seethed at the subtle touch which now felt like an uncomfortable tickle. You brought your fingers to his chest again, and traced patterns over his skin while you sucked tantalizingly on your lower lip and forced him to look you in the eye.

“Did I say you could come yet, Joon?” you derided.

This time, instead of looking like he wanted to kill something, he looked like he may have wanted to kill you.

“No, Mistress.”

“Would you like to come?” you asked him as your fingers began to trail lower down his body.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And how would you like to come?”

He licked his lips, but this time he knew the answer. “In your throat.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, like the request was big, and required sacrifice. “And what would I get in return, for letting you come in my throat?”

“Hm,” he hummed. “You let me come, and I will fuck you until you’re blind.”

“Big words, sir.”

“Big words I can live by. Now are you gonna suck me off with that pretty mouth or what?”

You weren’t sure if in a role play like this if what he said was insolent. Were you supposed to reward him or punish him for asking for such a thing? Regardless… it didn’t matter. This was your sex life, your partner, your rules… and right now, the rules – and your quivering pussy – wanted to oblige his request. So, you did.

You gripped his cock and began warming him up for another climb. You leaned forward, and kissed your boyfriend in a sloppy, hot exchange of tongues and lips and teeth and need. Then you dropped to your knees again, popped his vibrating cock in your mouth, and held nothing back.

Within a minute, you had him right back where he was before you denied him. His eyes had disappeared into his skull, his body shook from head to toe, his hips tried desperately to thrust into you, even against their resistance, and his breaths entered and exited his body in loud cries to God and to you and to Fuck Almighty.

“I… I’m… fuck… fuck… I’m coming… ughhh!” his every word struggled to fall off his tongue. But his warning was well-timed. Upon his final call to the Heavens, you were met with the sensation of thick, hot cum dripping down your throat. You squeezed hard on his ass and pumped violently at his shaft to help him empty everything he had into you. His hips jerked again, and again, and more strangulated noises rumbled out of his chest and into the air, until finally there was nothing left he had to give.

You undid the straps around his ankles before you stood up from the floor. He didn’t seem to even notice, however. His eyes were still shut, his head leaned backwards, and his lungs still gasped for air. He was engulfed completely in his fucked-out comedown, and completely unaware of his mortal surroundings. You undid the strap at his waist, then you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled your foreheads together.

“How was that, baby?” you whispered in the space between you.

“Shit, Y/N. That was so intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Fantastic intense. I didn’t know you could be such a tease.”

“You never give me the chance, babe. But now you know that sometimes I should be the one in charge.”

“We’ll talk about it,” he chided. You rolled your eyes and smiled, then leaned in to kiss him. As you did, you reached up and blindly found the handcuffs around his wrist, and easily unclasped him. He shook the blood back into his arm before wrapping it around you, and you went to work releasing the other.

Soon enough, you found yourself again lip-locked and backed against the cross – only this time, you had no intention of flipping the roles. He crushed your body against the wood as his mouth worked its way down your neck. You held him tight in your arms, but he soon pulled your limbs off of him as his lips forged a path across your body.

He dampened the fabric over your nipple with his tongue, and the heat of his mouth felt scorching, and then was replaced by a chilliness when he abandoned it for the other. You tried to control your breathing, trying not to let him know that if he worked you just the right way, you might come just like this. When he was finished with the lace, he pulled at the cups to expose your nipples, which perked from your arousal and the cool air fanning over them. He took one nipple raw and bare in his mouth, nipping and licking the bud into an erotic and sensitive state, while he squished the other gently between his forefinger and thumb. He switched again to the other side, and you couldn’t hold back your moan this time as you melted into his touch.

“Easy, baby. We’re just getting started.”

“Shut up and keep going,” you demanded, but it only stopped him in his tracks. He pulled from your chest, and stood up, bracing his palms against the cross over your shoulders, and looming over you with a domineering presence that made you feel small.

“Y/N…” he graveled your name, like he was about to scold you.

“Yes?” you asked, showing him how much you liked his intimidating presence.

“You’re no longer the Mistress here. It’s my turn. So, do as you’re told, and play nice.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His mouth pulled into a crooked and devious smile. “Put your hands above your head.”

You did, but unlike how you did at home, in which you crossed your arms well above your head, this time, you angled them at a 45-degree curve, lining them up with the handcuffs to your sides.

“Good girl,” he winked, then went to work securing you to the cross.

Just like you had done to him, after he had your arms leashed, he resumed caressing your belly with his warm mouth. Only, he took his sweet, damn time. It was like he had to kiss and nip every single fucking inch of your skin, and then do it all over again. Soon enough, your hips of a will of their own, began waving themselves into him. He’d be playing with the spaces just above your panty-line, teasing you with the prospect of now wetting the fabric over your waiting and wanting bundle of nerves. That’s when you'd lose your motor controls, and your body would press forward into his face despite the resistance he held on your hips.

“Stop moving, Y/N,” he warned.

“Can’t help it,” you breathed.

That’s when he remembered the strap for your waist. He reached behind your body and found the opposing pieces. He wrapped them around your torso, fastening them tight around your body. The glint in his gaze as he did so implied that he liked it probably more than you did. Now you knew how he felt when it was him in this position. But even though you now knew, he was going to make sure you knew it better.

He returned to your lower belly, once again taking even more sweet-ass time to lick long, wide patterns across your skin, being sure to dip teasingly low, then irritatingly high. His lips formed an “o” shape, and he blew air soft across your skin, causing the damp patterns to cool and ignite the nerve endings of your flesh. Your abs vibrated erratically, caught in a contrast between his warm palms on your sides and the freezing sensation of his saliva. You watched as a smug and satisfied grin formed impishly across his face.

You wanted to beg him to move on and do more. The pleas were ready to spill out of you at any moment. But you held them back. You weren’t sure yet if begging was going to get you what you wanted or get you the opposite. But Namjoon wasn’t going to let you get away with complacent silence.

“What do you want, baby?” he looked up at you, his eyebrows raising in a siren's warning.

You swallowed as you thought about your answer, and what answer he wanted, and what answer was going to get you what you fucking needed.

“I want whatever you think I deserve, sir,” you kept your face stoic as you threw his own words back at him - except you threw them better. His eyes narrowed, and he licked his teeth in amusement while he searched and found the arrogance behind your politeness.

“You are a clever one, Y/N, I’ll give you that.”

“Maybe these are the notes you should’ve been taking… sir,” you again held back the smugness in your tone - but even though you did, it was still heard loud and clear.

He released one hand from your hip, letting his index finger draw across your belly, then down over your waistband, then down, in a long, slow feather-light line over your mound, your clit and your slit. Your legs quivered, wanting his touch to be more, but he kept it delicate to make you want just that.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he arrogantly looked up at you.

You rolled your lip in your teeth, then mentally shook yourself back into composure. You weren’t going to let him break you before he touched you for real.

“Now, Y/N, be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Dammit, he might break you with his words alone. You did as you were told, stepping left and right so your ankles lined up with the base legs of the cross. Namjoon strapped you in, again, he wasn’t rushed, and it dawned on you that nothing he was going to do to you was going to be quick. You might not make it out of this gallery before sunrise.

He kissed you just above the inside of your ankle cuff, his hand dusting softly on the outside of your limb, as he began to carve a languid path up the inner expanse of your calf. His palm smoothed firmly over your outer thigh when his mouth made it past your knee, holding you tight as his tongue and teeth nuzzled your skin. Your breaths became anticipatory and short, and sparkes misfired behind your navel as you felt the tip of his nose brush higher and higher on your flesh, and was followed by nips and licks and kisses. He was getting closer and closer to your junction with every lazy second he took. Right when he was a mere inch from your quivering pussy, he skipped over it and to your other limb, and took a harsh bite out of the flesh which joined your hip to your leg.

“Oh, fuck, Joon!” you called to him, rolling your eyes in exasperated disappointment.

“What was that?” he called from between the crevasse.

“Sir,” you gulped - remembering how you had punished him for his simple, mindless mistake. “Thank-you, Sir.”

“I don’t think that’s what you said, Y/N,” he pulled his face from you, glaring hard up at you as he once again encased your hips in his hands.

“It was,” you insisted, even though you knew it was futile. You both knew he had heard your slip, but perhaps he’d let you forgo your first strike.

You held your breath as you watched him release his tongue from his mouth, and leaned forward. You swear you could feel the heat of the muscle radiate against you before it even touched you, hotter with every passing millisecond that felt like a fucking millenia. He then licked you - hot, wide, firm and slow - over the length of your panties, starting from your entrance until he flattened himself over your clit.

It wasn’t enough - you needed to be bare, you needed him to be harsh - but he knew that. That’s why he licked you this way, and that’s why his eyes never left your face as he arrogantly teased you with that tongue of his that you loved and hated so much.

When it retracted back into his mouth, he continued to watch you fall apart, even if it was only in the tiniest of ways. Your hips tried to sneak forward into his mouth, which was less than a dime away from your clit, but you both knew that was a punishable move.

“Would you lie to me, Y/N?”

“Yes… I mean, no…” you fumbled your answer. The truth was you would tell a thousand lies to get him to eat you out right the fuck now.

"Who knew wanting your pussy licked would make you so immoral."

"I don't have morals when it comes to you, Sir."

"My clever girl," he grinned.

He tilted forward - this time encasing your guarded clit completely in his mouth. He pressed his tongue hard and hot against you, and your chamber squeezed at the feeling. He sucked you through the fabric, pulling the lace off your body, then releasing it so it snapped back in place. He engulfed you again, his everything heavier, and this time he let his teeth grab your panties - pulling them hard so the snap was even harder. A nonsensical cry escaped you - like the lace was now toxic to your body.

He then took the right string of your underwear in his fist. "I hope you're not fond of these, Y/N."

You were, but they were replaceable... this moment was not.

"Not in the least," you announced.

He pulled the band, and your panties tightened painfully and pleasingly through your folds, until an even more pleasing snap was heard, and the garment crumpled to the floor.

You pressed your lips together and swallowed as cool air rushed your wet skin.

You waited… and waited… and waited for something to happen. But it didn’t. You looked down to your boyfriend kneeling before you, only to find him smirking back up at you. You could see your throbbing mound inches before him, and those inches seemed like a design for torture. He just needed to move forward. You just needed to move forward. But he wasn’t and you couldn’t. Did he want you to beg him? You would. You absolutely would.

“Please, Sir,” your voice was weak – not from reluctance but from pure, primal need.

“What would you like, Y/N?”

“I want you to pleasure me.”

He kinked his neck, “Am I not pleasuring you enough?”

It was clear this question was a test.

“You are. But you are capable of so much more,” you said in a passive voice, stroking his ego just the way that was needed. His eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. He did like your answer, but he was still waiting for you to truly slip up so he could punish you, the way you had punished him. Unlike him – and also, unfortunately for him - you were willing to forgo all pride to get what you needed.

“I think you’re right,” he responded, and it sent a promising shiver down your spine.

His hand raised to cover your mound, and your body melted into his touch the best it could. It then dragged heavily southward, until he was able to spread his fingers and split your folds apart to expose your clit to the elements. His lips parted, and he began a slow ascent towards your pleasure, making sure that every millimeter closed built your anticipation by a mile.

“Ohhhh,” your body heaved as his mouth pressed around your clit, the chains at your wrists chiming loudly. The feeling was so fucking intense now that you were bare and raw and already sensitive to the nines. His jaw slackened, then tightened as he licked your length and consumed everything he could fit into his mouth. His tongue stroked you in wet, hard, long passes several times over. In a final pass, he let his nose lead the way, splitting your folds apart and foraging a path for the strong appendage to taste everything. He first nuzzled your clit with the tip of his nose, then he curled the tip of his tongue, and began rapidly flicking the nub with expert precision. Your knees wanted to close tight, you wanted to smother him between your thighs – being held this wide and prone made the pleasure feel as though it was too much. But of course, you couldn’t. You were now acutely aware of how restricted your limbs were – how the cuffs and the Velcro and the wood held you open and exposed, and captive and helpless to your partner’s divine will. All you could do was grit your teeth, or cry into the open gallery.

“Uh..huhhh…” you spit, and you felt a tease of an orgasm shine through you. He stopped his flicking, so it disappeared – but then, he brought his weapon low to your entrance, and dragged it high through your folds before he wrapped his lips around your swollen bud and began to suck. A new type of pleasure then coursed through your nether regions, one that made your spine want to bow and your hands want to shred apart the hair on his head. Your wrists snapped against their chains, and your torso fought against the wood – but you weren’t going anywhere. You had no choice but to take it all raw.

Namjoon’s hand smoothed over your thigh and hip until it came to rest over your stomach – and even though it didn’t wield much strength, it still felt like an anvil crushing you against the cross. He was reveling in how your body vibrated beneath his palms, and it seemed to inspire him to work even harder.

“Oh, oh, uh!” you whimpered as he buried his tongue far beneath your hood, and made a mess of your clit’s receptors. You looked down at him to see whatever the fuck he was doing to make you feel insane, but it was a bad idea. The image of him tongue fucking you with such fury and confidence, combined with the way he watched you like a predator stalking his prey (even though he was the one on his knees) was a scene that could have made you come alone. Within an instant, you felt the rapid rise of your orgasm, and within seconds you were gasping and moaning a warning to Namjoon.

The way you knew his, he too knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew the signs of when you were about to come without you needing to tell him – not that you could tell him if you wanted to. Most of the time it was a blessing, but this time it was a curse. Just before you peaked, just before you tripped into the world of untamed ecstasy, he too decided that you weren’t allowed to come, and he too pulled back and let you shiver and gasp your way down from your almost-climax.

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, wishing you could haunch over or stretch to recover.

“Did I say you could come, Y/N?” you could hear his stupid grin as he threw your words back at you.

“No… Sir…” you panted.

“You’re really good at this sex obedience and formalities thing, Y/N,” he admonished.

“I’ve had practice,” you chided, although it wasn’t really a joke. You were used to being at his mercy. He wasn’t. He was probably starting to feel a little competitive.

“Be that as it may, it’s still not going to save you.”

“Do your worst, Sir,” you emphasized the honorific, just to brag a touch.

“I’m gonna eat you out ” he cleared his throat. “Only this time, I’m not going to stop when you’re about to come. You have to stop yourself.”

“What if I can’t, Sir?”

“Same rules. If you do, then I’m going to keep fucking you any way that I want, but I won't let you come again until sunrise.”

He really did take notes.

“How long do I need to hold out, Sir?”

“Until I say," he winked. "Ready?”

He didn’t give you a moment to respond – he dove tongue first right back in to you and you choked on your answer. He didn’t warm you up either, he went right back to where he left – flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit, sucking your lips in his mouth, eating away at your heat like he had been starving for weeks. You felt the desire to orgasm – he felt so hot and so good, you just knew you’d come hard all over his face – but you pushed that desire aside before you reveled in it too long and became lost. You focused on keeping your muscles relaxed, and convincing your brain that his ravenous assault didn’t feel as good as it actually did. But it did feel good. It felt fucking amazing… and the quicker you pushed that reality from your mind the quicker your body reminded you of it.

He would hit you right how you needed it, and launch you into a fountain of pleasure. You wanted to dive in head first, but then you’d remember the rules and panic about even testing the waters. Since at home you’d clench your fingers around a pillow or sheets or Namjoon’s skin for relief, this time your fingers had nothing to hold. You’d need a new tactic. Something as mental as arousal itself – and you’d find something, but then Namjoon would switch up his assault and you’d be right back at square one.

This assent, you landed on counting. While your body begged for release, you tried to calm it with simple numbers. One… two… ugh… three… fuck… three… no four..

You suddenly felt the hold on your right leg give as the cuff came undone. Before you could look down to see what had happened, Namjoon flung your knee over his shoulder, and hugged your thigh around his neck, suffocating himself in your junction. It was too much. You needed to come or you were going to go insane.

“Ohhh… baby… Oh, Joon, baby, fuck!” the words slipped from your tongue. He stopped, then looked up at you with a triumphant smile that was glossy in your juices. You lost – at least the battle of honorifics – and now he was gloating right in front of you and your vagina. At least there was a silver lining - now you might be able to capture another minute to stave off your climax and win the war. Apparently, however, you didn’t need to…

“You can come now, Baby girl,” he winked, then disappeared a final time into your hollow.

You were relieved, but your relief turned quickly into agony as your partner – who had reduced your sex into a sensational mess – was creating an even greater disaster. You felt like you couldn’t control your breathing or your screams, and your body shuddered and twisted uncontrollably as you rode his face to the peak.

“I… I…” you squeaked as warmth began to scald, and your fingers and toes tingled with numbness. He grumbled a noise into your folds - whatever it was he said, it rumbled through your system like a vibrator, and you knew it meant he wanted you to come in his mouth. Within moments, you did - stretching your head to the sky as your jaw slackened and you screamed into the abyss. You writhed against your restraints as Namjoon tongue-fucked you through your high - you would have crumpled into a pathetic pile on the ground had you not been securely strapped. Your legs quivered violently in between the moments when they weren’t strung tight by seizing muscles.

Your orgasm wasn’t long, but it was powerful enough that your ears rung well after you came back down to earth. You kept your eyes closed, and took in deep breaths of air deep into your body, reveling in how light it felt, like your bloodstream was fizzing with carbonated bubbles of air. As you took stock of everything you felt, you noted that the pressure between your legs hadn’t yet subsided. You felt a thick, strong muscle wielding its way through your pulsing center, and realized that Namjoon was still licking you. It was softer now, not manic like before, but he was licking you just the same, as if he hadn’t realized you had come. But, of course he knew. Hell, the corner store down the block probably knew you had come by the way you screamed.

He knew. He just didn’t care – he was going to make you come again.

He had given you multiple orgasms before… but not every attempt panned out. Sometimes you were just too sensitive, and despite how badly your heart and soul wanted to come again, sometimes your body just had other ideas. It’d writhe and twist and beg for distance, and he have to make a choice between giving you space to recover, or manhandling you roughly into a pretzel so that you couldn’t escape from his second onslaught. You kind of preferred the latter. But against the cross, it didn’t matter if you were or weren’t too sensitive - your body wasn’t going anywhere, and he seemed acutely aware of that fact.

You thought about that photo behind you that had turned you on so much. The woman bound to the cross with the wand at her clit, taking orgasm after orgasm no matter what her natural instinct was otherwise. Right now, Namjoon was your wand, and you were the vulnerable subject.

You winced, and inhaled a sharp breath of air as his tongue flicked hard against your bud and tested the waters. You were sensitive tonight, and the feeling of being touched so soon was uncomfortable - but also thrilling. You licked your lips, and took a deep breath as you tried to help the sensation by relaxing yourself.

You looked down at him, and this time when you saw him stuffed between your thighs, your mind wasn’t clouded by a haze of primordial ardor. There was something oddly romantic about how he looked up at you. The act didn’t look lewd, and he didn’t look like a depraved predator. He looked at you with soft but confident eyes that wanted to share this moment with you. He licked you tenderly like the gesture could communicate a meaningful promise between you.

He slipped his tongue soft and slow over your slit, which made the over sensitivities less intense. He was warming you up until he was ready to rough you up again.

"You okay, baby?" he asked you, and your heart fluttered. You couldn't help but swoon when he showed his concern for you.

"Yeah," you breathed and rewarded him with a smile.

"Good," he returned the smile, but it wasn't as soft as yours. He had a new plan.

He rose from the floor and stepped forward to take your jaw in his hands, tilting your chin upwards so he could devour your lips in a heated, passionate exchange.

You moaned into his mouth as you felt his fingers press harshly against your clit. Your over-sensitivity had subsided somewhat, but it was still there, and this time you weren't sure if you could power through it. It was possible when his tongue was moving cautiously over you, but his hands were too much.

“I don’t know if I can,” you croaked, genuine disappointment in your voice, but his fingers didn’t stop.

"Yes you can,” he gruffed. It wasn’t an encouragement – it was a command.

Shit! was all your mind could say. This was the point at which you realized how much you were at his mercy.

He circled your clit with two of his fingers, and you shuddered and sobbed right in front of his face, your eyes pleading with him to lessen his pressure and grant you relief. But his glare told you to just surrender - that there was nothing to stop him or cause him to deviate from his plan.

“Oh, God, baby,” you sputtered, even your breaths came out in whines.

“I like when you call me Sir.”

“Please, Namjoon,” you couldn’t comply – you needed to plead with him, not his role. “I can’t…” your voice trailed off as you gritted your teeth through an intense wave of discomfort.

His thumb dug into the space beneath your chin, immobilizing your head in an upward tilt. “Yes… you can, Y/N,” he said, this time with more poignance.

“Oh… my God…” you choked again, your body trying so hard to get away from him. Your lips parted, and his mouth parted along with them, aroused by the sight of what he was doing to you.

Your silent pleas acted only as his fuel, and his fingers rubbed even quicker around your nub. Your body ached and shivered like you had a flu, and it remained as such for at least a minute, maybe two. But then… by minute three, perhaps four, things began to… shift.

At first, it felt like you had become accustomed to the “pain.” Then it felt like maybe the nerves had been pleasured into numbness… then, a familiar and pleasing heat made a slow, but conscious return. It was starting to feel good again. Better than good. Different. You felt your cheeks begin to flush once more, and your blood begin to pump fluidly through you.

Namjoon seemed to notice this, so he took a moment to relax his wrist – loosening his fingers, he let them drop low to tease over your entrance, and slid high through your wetness in several passes. Your body soon began to subtly rise and fall and wave with his pets, needing to rock against his motions – but still, you weren’t able to move too far, and it was incredibly frustrating in all the right ways.

Then, you felt the tips of his fingers breach your folds, and you sucked in air as he sunk two fingers deep inside you.

He rubbed your chamber just a few times - nothing too rough or two deliberate - just enough to soak his fingers in your arousal, which he then withdrew from you, brought to his lips and then popped into his mouth. He told you he was going to taste you again, and even though you were still all over his face from when his face had been between your legs, it seemed he hadn’t quite had his fill.

When he was done, he released your chin, and his hand dropped behind the knee of your unbound leg. He heaved your limb high to hitch over his hip, and he took a half-step forward to brace it against the cross and spread you as wide as the ocean. He returned his fingers to your core and sunk them into you once more. You felt his knuckles curl inside you, and your spine wanted to curl with them, but all you could do was curl your neck backwards as pleasure ricocheted through you. He pulled out a measure, twisting his fingers through your chamber, before he slammed them back into you and clamped them around your ridge. The third time, he shoved his digits into you as deep as he could and flapped them madly against your silky walls, causing your lungs to seemingly flutter in tune with their movements. His knuckles curled tight again, and again, and he started pumping in and out of you over and over, until a violent and delicious rhythm was found – one that touched you everywhere you needed to be touched. The heel of his hand pressed firm against your clit, and it felt lewd and abrasive as it thumped against you with every twist and pull on your insides. Sparks swirled and fired and misfired in the space behind your pelvis, and your fingers clenched tight into your palms, wishing they had the skin of his back to claw in to. He twisted his wrist, finding a way to replace the heel of his hand with his thumb so he could play more dextrously with your clit while he still fucked you with his fingers.

“Oh, shit, baby!” you groaned, your eyes becoming heavy and wanting to slam shut.

He stepped even closer to you, letting his mouth hover millimeters away from yours – like he wanted to kiss you. But there was no way you could kiss him now – all he could get from your mouth was the taste of your moans and cries. But that seemed to also be fuel for him, and his extremity between your legs and in your gut began to move stronger and faster, like his wrist and hand was bionic.

"Eyes on me," he ordered, and you sobbed as you tried to comply.

Since this was your second… actually, third… orgasm of the night, the coil behind your navel took much longer to tighten. The build would be steady, then vanish for moments, only to return twice as strong. But it was there, in your line of sight, preparing itself to sear and snap and disintegrate your organs into a pile of mush. It was… so much better. You had time to revel in every step and microgasm without threat of coming too soon and ending your sexcapades before you wanted. But soon enough it was there, staring you down and just waiting for the right moment to strike.

“I’m gonna come,” you warned Namjoon.

“I said you could, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

“Fuck… right there,” you prompted him when he found that sweet spot inside you which was sure to get you across the finish line.

“Right here?” he asked, as he pressed the pads of his fingers harshly against the button.

“Yesss,” you whimpered.

“You gonna come?”

“Yes!” you cried again, your face contorting like the question was the stupidest thing you’d ever heard.

He began rapidly pressing the spot - like it was a button on the console of a video game he was playing. Once again, your wrists pulled at their chains, and your torso coughed and heaved as waves of mounting pleasure stacked on top of each other, readying to explode. Namjoon bit his lip, looking arrogantly down at you as he took in every shift of agony and desire your face gave.

“Is this pretty pussy gonna make a big mess?”

As it turned out, his filthy mouth was just the thing that orgasm number three was waiting for. Your mind and body released all at once, and with an “Oh! Shit!” and a “Fuck!” your entire being constricted in on itself, then exploded outwards. The noises that escaped you were barbaric and primal as all the wind you had in your lungs grated against your vocal cords as it exited your chest. You felt your arousal rush out of you, and slicken his wrist which now squelched as it pumped you full of ecstasy. It just kept going, and going and going on - like this climax would never stop and was trying to put every orgasm you ever had to shame. Right when you thought the wave was over and you’d be able to take a real breath of air again, another wave would hit you, and your toes would curl and your muscles would tremor while you squeaked out another cry that would echo off the walls of the gallery.

You orgasm probably could have kept going had Namjoon kept his pace, but as time passed, his strokes moved slower and slower, and the waves would grow smaller and smaller as he returned you to solid ground. But… you quickly discovered that he had no intention of letting you down completely. Before you even noticed what had happened, he released his hold on your pussy, sprung his cock free from his boxers, and positioned his tip to your entrance.

He curved his elbow under your knee and gripped the cross behind you. Then, in one fluid, slick motion, his tip breezed past your folds, and you felt his thick, hot dick sink into your chamber and burn your insides as they stretched inch by inch to accommodate it.

This time, you didn’t have any instinct to plead with him for a break, or to tell him that you couldn’t. This time, you weren’t sprung with the sensations of being too sensitive. This time, it felt fucking incredible. The kind of incredible that would have you holding him tight against you and sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

He pressed onward against all resistance he met, and was soon bottomed out and balls deep inside you while your walls rippled delightfully around his invasion.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N,” he gruffed, overwhelmed by how good it felt to be inside you. He released the hold he had on his shaft, and reached over your shoulder to clutch onto the cross near your cuffed wrist. You could now feel his skin on yours as your pelvises and stomachs pressed firmly together, and your nipples tickled his chest every time you breathed. “Fuck, I just love being inside you. You’re so fucking wet right now.”

His hips rolled smoothly, pulling out a measure, and then stuffing it back into you, while his pelvis grinded deliciously into yours. It was languid and sensual as he rocked and waved himself against you, his thickness filling you so tightly that you felt as if you could map out every vein and valley of his cock.

He rolled again and again, not rushing to fuck you senseless, even though it was clear his aura was primed and desperate to do just that. You wanted so much more… you wanted to feel all his weight on top of you, crushing your body into the surface at your back; you wanted more of his skin, damp and smooth as it brushed against yours when he thrusted into you; you wanted to hear his grunts and the erotic sound of your bodies colliding. You wanted him close. You wanted to hold him so badly that the cross was now truly feeling like a device made for torture and crucifixtion.

“Let me go. I want my hands.”

He rocked hard into you, pulling a gasp from your throat. “You can have them back when we get home.”

You groaned - would you even be able to walk by the time you were ready to go home? “Please, Sir,” you edged him on - but it didn’t work.

“Not right now.”

“Then fuck me right now,” your voice rose in a sharp and lethal demand.

“Careful, baby. I’m still the one who calls the shots.”

“Please,” your commanding voice morphed quickly into a plea. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“Are you okay?” he froze, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Yes,” you responded quickly to dispel any confusion. “But I’ve been standing on one foot for a while - it’s starting to cramp.”

His eyes trailed downward to your ankle still cuffed to the cross.

“We can fix that easily,” he smirked. He slipped out of you and released your limb which he had strung high over his arm. He then knelt to the floor, and released your other foot from its tether. You shook out both your legs, and he let you - just not for long. This time, he hitched your newly freed limb over his hip and guided his cock back to where it belonged. You thought he was going to fuck you like this, but when he was positioned deep inside you again, he reached for your other knee, and in an impressive feat of strength, he hoisted you completely off the ground and onto his hips, holding you prone and dangling against the cross.

His cock, which had felt thick and sweet when he first entered you, now felt as long as a sword and as hard as a diamond. You swore that in this position you could feel him piercing your lungs. He bounced you once on his hips to get you just where he wanted you, and you hiccuped a pitched noise as the shift impaled you even deeper on his rod. Satisfied, he began to thrust - long, firm, practiced strokes that made a lewd, muddy squelch as he entered and exited your body. Your mouth fell agape from the pressure sensitive feelings of being hollowed and filled over and over again. His pace climbed noticeably every minute or so, and both your breaths and tiny pants kept on beat with his hips. Soon enough, your body was slipping up and down along the cross with every waving thrust he made. His tempo continued to rise, and as it did, your moans and whines also raised in key.

“Joon…” you called to him, although you didn’t have anything to say.

“It feels so fucking good,” he answered you anyway. “It’s like this pussy was made just for me.”

“I love how you fuck me,” you encouraged him. “God, you feel so good inside me. I love how you fuck me.”

His face dropped forward, and he caught your lips with his. His motions were put on pause as he nearly folded you in half just so he could kiss you. And once again, even though you hung precariously and indecently in the air, everything about the moment felt romantic.

Namjoon’s arm workout was starting to get to him, so he return one of your legs to the floor and he nestled in close to you. Once again bracing his hand on the cross, he began rocking his body into yours, letting his weight press against you and letting his pelvis create constant friction on your clit. While Namjoon was buried in your neck, your eyes caught a moving flash of something in the corner. You naturally looked in its direction through your hazy, sexy drunk glare and realized it was just the display glass of a nearby display. You could see yourself in it. In fact, you could see Namjoon in it too - or at least, you could see his bare muscles and ass constrict and expand while he fucked you. God, you wished it was a full on mirror and not just a faint reflection - but regardless, it was still clear enough to be hot. With only a few moments passing between you and the case, you were aroused enough to once again call your orgasm out of hiding.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked when he noticed your gaze was locked on something he couldn’t see.

“I can see our reflection.”

“Oh yeah?” his voice became thicker and denser at the revelation. “How do we look?”

“Really fucking hot.”

“Mm, baby, I’m jealous. You get to see how good you look when I make you come.”

You couldn’t help but smile and blush, even amidst everything. You turned your face to kiss him, and he received it graciously.

“I love you,” he panted when he pulled back.

“I love you,” you echoed him, your heart now swelling as large as your lust.

He reached down once more and grabbed your knee, hoisting you a final time back onto his hips. He shuffled himself between your legs, and repositioned you over his cock, then in one hard pop of his hips, he impaled you on his staff so deep and sharp you swore this time you could taste him in your throat. He thrusted again - and again, all the air in your lungs escaped. Then again and again he fucked up and into you, and you bounced on and off his dick at a near inhuman pace.

The wide open and ceilingless gallery now sounded like an amphitheater as the vulgar sounds of your wet, skin clapping together echoed off every corner in the space, and mingled with the crude noises of his growls and your cries. Even the cross began to creak beneath you as it too shifted with every impact of his hips meeting yours.

You tried to watch Namjoon as best as you could, but the sensation of being pounded so rough and fast made it difficult to focus on anything. Your eyes would squeeze shut, or your head would roll back, or even thrash from side to side as you powered through the carnal pleasures. Namjoon was struggling too… as much as he got off on watching you go crazy beneath him, he also couldn’t keep his eyes open for too long. He was fucked out and fighting for survival. His chest dripped with sweat, and his muscles all strained and throbbed as veins coiled around them. His groans which had been deep and guttural now came from high in his throat as he fought off his orgasm until he could make you come first.

He didn’t need to wait much longer. The friction and power against you and inside you, the image of his muscles reflected back to you as they fucked you into oblivion, the sounds your boyfriend made, the sounds of sex, the smell of sex in the air swirling around you, and yes, the teasing restraints on your wrists… all served up the perfect storm to bring you to nirvana for the fourth God Damn time tonight - and when it did hit you, it hit you hard, and fast.

Out of nowhere, your body lurched against Namjoon’s hips and your whole system was shocked with several thousand megawatts of electricity. You heard Namjoon’s near painful cry as you clamped down hard on his dick. You seemed to have only one sound you could make this time, which was a rapid succession of throaty, high-pitched “Oh’s” which could have had you mistaken for a velociraptor.

Namjoon came almost immediately with you - either because he had been staving off his own climax for so long, or because your walls fluttering erratically around his cock launched him off the cliff. Whatever it was, he painted your insides completely with hot, white coats of cum with every one of his shambolic final thrusts.

When his mind returned to his body, and he became aware of his surroundings again, he wasted no time in unstrapping you from the cross. You pretty much collapsed into his arms and your feet felt unsteady and weak, and your arms were numb and desperate for blood to be returned to them. As promised, he had also fucked you blind. He held you close, tucking you tight into his body, then spent the next few minutes kissing you gently.

“How was that, baby?” he asked.

“I think we should definitely get a dungeon now.”

He chuckled, “Or at least a cross. We’ll just tell your mother it’s one of my ‘weird’ art installations.”

“Yeah, okay,” you laughed. “Ready to go home?” You figured you should make a run for it now that you had all your motor functions back. You felt spent, like you needed to sleep for days - you didn’t need to get anymore ideas from this gallery tonight.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here,” he agreed, kissing you once more before you both went searching for your discarded and destroyed clothing.

⁂

The next morning… well... somewhere in the early afternoon, you woke up to the bright, summer light pouring in through the blinds and into Namjoon’s room. He was still asleep beside you, snoring softly.

You pulled yourself out of bed, wincing slightly at the pain between your legs - an echo of the all night hard and rough fuckfest that surprisingly didn’t end once you got home from the gallery. You pulled on a pair of spandex shorts and one of Namjoon’s old Nirvana shirts, which early on in your relationship had become your nightgown. Then you padded your way into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

You grabbed the local homebuyers magazine that arrived at your door that morning, and took it, a notepad, your phone, your coffee, and a plate of fruit, toast and reheated bacon to Namjoon’s balcony. You sat down and began to flip through the magazine prospects. Today, you had a renewed sense of determination to find yourselves a home… well… a farm. You started by generally researching how much it would cost to renovate a barn, then flipped to instead calculating how much you could realistically spend on renovating a barn. New potential began to swirl in your mind as you explored the minimal number of farms available for sale. Perhaps you wouldn’t need a house full of extra rooms. Most of the farms had a number of smaller sheds. If you did it right, you could have a whole separate space to run and store your business supplies. And if you daydreamed big enough, you could even have a place to house… something else.

It wasn’t long until the sound of the patio door sliding open broke you from your research, and Namjoon appeared with his own coffee in hand, and a mussed up mop of hair on his head. He blinked into the bright light as he made his way into the chair next to you, but not before greeting you with a good morning peck.

As per his usual wake up process, he didn’t speak much while he worked his way through half his morning coffee. You kept yourself trained on your task, writing and typing and researching away, becoming increasingly more excited as the pieces seemed to finally be coming together.

“So,” Namjoon’s voice croaked with sleep as he stretched himself the rest of the way awake. “I think you were onto something last night.”

You scoffed a laugh. You weren’t sure exactly what you were on last night that he was referring to, but your mind crept immediately to the less PG things you had been on.

“And what is that?” you asked.

“The part about adding a sex room to our list of needs. I think it’s a need at this point.”

You smiled bright and proud, biting your lip as your mind flashed through all the erotic moments that had happened within the past twelve hours. “Well, then, you’re going to love my farm idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded. You turned, pulled your chair up to him, flipped open your notes and proceeded to tell him everything you had researched and budgeted that morning. He was impressed overall, especially since you could both have out-of-the-house spaces for your businesses. He, and you, liked the idea of keeping work somewhat separated from the rest of your life.

“So, which one of these shacks is gonna be the love shack?” he chided once you two narrowed down the list to two locations you wanted to see right away.

You chuckled, “I love your enthusiasm, but babe, we might have to put that on the back burner and start with the things that are actually going to bring us money.”

“We can still get a cross though, right?”

“Ha! Yeah, okay," you rolled your eyes. "How much does one of those things cost?”

“I don’t know. Would it be weird to ask Pasque to just make us one?”

“She’s your client, not mine,” you shrugged.

Just then, you heard the clear voices of a group of visitors to the building walking down the path towards the parking lot. You both hushed your sex talk, and your head turned naturally in their direction, trying to peer at them through the leaves of ivy hanging around the privacy screen.

But instead of seeing them, you saw something else. It was that something that had been bothering you since last night - since you first crossed the threshold into the miniature sex museum and laid eyes upon the Cross. Then, there had been something familiar about the piece that you couldn’t quite capture. Today, as you looked at the structure strung with greenery and decorated with solar lanterns, you captured it.

“Joon,” you called to your boyfriend, doing your best to not sound too alarmed.

“Yeah?”

“Who was it that gave you this privacy screen?”

He didn’t say anything at first - the question seemed so out of the blue, it obviously stumped him.

“Umm… Pasque did.”

You exhaled an amused breath. Then pointed towards the giant X which was nearly unrecognizable under the dense cover of foliage. “I don’t think we need to ask her to build us a cross, babe, I think she already gave you one.”

He followed where you were pointing, and his gaze fell upon the X.

It was… identical.

Well… nearly identical. Her’s was in a private gallery surrounded by art. His was on an outside patio, covered in greenery and lamps.

“I…” he stammered. “Umm… she… uh-oh…”

“You know, this was supposed to protect us from your neighbors, not signal our sex life to them?”

“I… didn’t realize… oh my God…” his mouth fell open.

You covered your lips with your hand to stifle a laugh, but it didn’t do much good. You fell into an uncontrollable fit, and Namjoon followed suit.

“You might’ve been onto something else, Y/N,” he finally managed to squeak out amidst your belly-hurting laughter. “We should sell my condo first.”

Final Story in Series Coming Soon!

[pudgewizard]

Day 16!

Discount Candy

I wrote a short story :)

~~~

Zach was taking a walk downtown, enjoying the cool weather that had finally arrived. Being able to take walks without the sun murdering them was a relief. The farmers market was finally bustling with people again. Having nothing else to do, Zach checked it out.

Many unique treasures were sold here, such as sweaters, paintings, necklaces, so much more. Zach didn't have much money on him to buy anything too expensive, much to his dismay. Then he saw a small stand crammed in-between two other stands. It was labeled, "Discount Candy". Curious, and intrigued by the word "discount", Zach approached the stand.

"Welcome!" The man greeted Zach. "These candies were handcrafted with the sweetest sugar, grown by yours truly! No artificial flavorings! And the chocolate? Real cocoa beans! 5 pounds of candy costs only one dollar! Whaddya say, pal?"

Zach was amazed. What a generous offer! He gave the man one dollar and he was handed his bag of candy. Satisfied with his purchase, he strolled back home.

-

Zach sat on his bed, which creaked under his weight. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he was craving something sweet, especially after the man's advertising. First, he unwrapped a small chocolate bar. He chucked it in his mouth, and he immediately moaned in pleasure. The chocolate melted as soon as it made contact with his tongue. It tasted even better than Hershey's! He could almost feel his taste buds orgasm with pleasure as they enjoyed the sweet chocolatey taste. As he swallowed the chocolate, he dug for another piece. This time, he found an orange flavored hard candy. And once again, Zach was greeted with a heavenly flavor. It didn't taste like orange soda, but rather real, citrusy orange. He swirled it in his mouth for what seemed like forever, savoring the taste. As he finally bit down on the candy, which was now eroded to a small ball, a bit of juice popped out, which made Zach moan in pleasure.

After they finished that piece, they began to devour the whole bag. The chocolates were decimated. The hard candies were licked to atoms. After about 15 minutes, there was one tiny chocolate bar left. As Zach began to reach for it however…

*BRBRBLRR*

…his stomach gave an ominous gurgle. They paused for a moment as they realized just how much candy they've eaten over a short period of time. Zach belched and then groaned as they held their aching belly. He looked down to see it was completely distended. His shirt just wouldn't go past his belly. Zach's belly burbled again, as he whined in response. He rubbed his poor tummy as it continuously moaned and grumbled. He couldn't move. His belly had pinned him to the bed. The only thing Zach could do was try to nap off this belly ache, with the only sound accompanying him being his belly's symphony of overstuffed growls.

[rakhibazaar]

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[bookwormscififan]

Potentially

Read on AO3!

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: Mare still can't believe Mad gave away his favourite mug, and this time Mare's the one gettin' flustered.

--

“I still can’t believe you just casually gave away your favourite mug,” Mare commented as he leaned against the kitchen counter, lifting his mug of coffee to his lips and blinking at Mad sitting in the living room.

“It’s my favourite mug, true, but it’s not my favourite,” Mad replied, brushing his thumb over the ceramic finish of his own mug. “I could buy a science pun mug anywhere. I can’t just go out and buy a handcrafted mug made by you.”

“Still,” Mare protested, setting his cup down and waving his hands for emphasis. “You gave a mug away to Night, without protesting or anything.”

“He’s the God of Night,” Mad replied, leaning forward in his seat as he traced the patterns on his mug for comfort. “You can’t refuse a god. And also, I don’t need my potentially future father-in-law not liking me.” He mumbled the last part, staring at a blank spot on the wall as he drank his coffee.

“You do not need to know how many times Phan and I refused something to Night,” Mare chuckled, pressing his thumb against a spot on his palm. “You don’t need to be scared of… wait.” His eyes widened as Mad’s words finally caught up to him, face flushing red as he stared at Mad. “Wait, what did you say?”

“Mare, come over here,” Mad said, putting his mug down on the coffee table and shuffling to one side of the couch so Mare could sit down. “I love you far too much to anger your adoptive father, and I know we’re not traditional enough to need permission, but I’d still rather be on Night’s good side than have him be mad at me.”

“But…” Mare stammered, unable to form proper words as his flush grew darker, fingers picking at the hem of his shirt. “You said… potentially…”

“I don’t know the outcome of our future,” Mad said with a soft chuckle, reaching out to hold Mare’s hands. “I do know that I love you, and you love me, and I’m certain Night wouldn’t want either of us to be unhappy.”

“P-potentially…” Mare’s mind was stuck on the word, tilting his head as he looked into Mad’s eyes. “I-I haven’t—” he was cut off by Mad’s hands finding their way to the back of Mare’s head, pulling him in for a deep kiss as he climbed into Mare’s lap.

“Potentially,” Mad echoed, pressing his forehead against Mare’s. “Because there’s a potential to our relationship ending in marriage, but we can’t confirm it yet. All I want for right now is to be with you, by your side and in your arms.”

“I love you, dearest,” Mare whispered, hands falling to Mad’s hips. “I’m gonna always love you, no matter what Night wants.” Chuckling as Mad’s cheeks flushed, Mare dipped his head to kiss Mad again, holding him close and tasting the coffee on his lips with a sigh.

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

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[oak23]

I posted 11,247 times in 2022

792 posts created (7%)

10,455 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@oswednesday

@silly-slacker-person

@gnomicgabby

@pandor-pandorkful

@tryclops

I tagged 347 of my posts in 2022

#youtube - 32 posts

#1k post - 10 posts

#instagram - 8 posts

#doll meme - 6 posts

#everything everywhere all at once - 5 posts

#doll - 4 posts

#barbie - 4 posts

#monster high - 3 posts

#watarukun - 3 posts

#watarudoll - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#like essentially different plastics need to be processed differently and there's literally no efficient way of breaking down multi plastic t

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I think the main reason why the obscenely rich attract so much hate towards them noeadays in a way they hadn't before is because the current round of uber rich people are people who benefitted from generational wealth rather than meaningfully contributed anything to have earned that money or understood the optics of appearing to have earnt that money.

The stuff they spend money isn't even things that a normal person could ever want like a handcrafted artisanal music box or a Faberge egg or rare delicacies or even a 50-foot statue of themselves. It's all shit that is either intangible, like stocks and assets and cry/to or just obscenely ugly like modern houses or a mcmansion.

Hell, they don't even have the decency to dress well or influence how fashion goes; a lot of these second or third generation rich people dress like the most boring and unappealing fashions imaginable in order to appear like a "normal" person while they destroy the world doing shit like buy ugly ass computer generated art on twitter.

I'd much rather have watched a rich person use their wealth to buy bad dragon dildos and 30 custom fursuits while financing a furrybait show rather than see yet another techbro in a grey shirt and pants talk about their startup company that uses daddy's money that they will use the profits from to buy stocks or whatever

2,790 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

#4

me thinking about Everything Everywhere All At Once and how it says suffering is temporary and fixable while joy and love is always possible no matter how absurd it seems

3,490 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#3

Burden bearing hips

21,235 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

#2

I hate how a lot of cultural appropriation discourse has forgotten the reason why it started appearing. It wasn't meant to punish white people for being ignorant and ban them from partaking in other cultures.

It was a discussion meant to draw attention that people of colour were constantly being overlooked or punished for the exact same things that white people were celebrated for. It was meant to elevate people of colour to an understanding and respect that white people had been afforded for years, often unearned.

So seeing people go "white people don't partake in anything that isn't white" misses a lot of nuance in the discussion, because a lot of different cultures ARE willing to share and allow people into their culture on their own terms and in a respectful matter.

There's a massive difference between a white person going "I just invented the BEST version of this" where everything had been watered down and stripped away versus one going "I try out this thing to appreciate cultures and viewpoints that aren't my own".

As a first generation Asian Australian whose own cultural identity is a massive clusterfuck I do think we need to remember that cultural exchange and sharing is incredibly important for an ever changing and global culture.

34,560 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Like the fact is, being a gay stereotype when you're gay is actually quite fun and spending years of your life trying to avoid doing it for the approval of homophobes is not fun.

35,461 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[parker-d-bloodrose]

Blades & Burgers

The following is a short story I wrote for funsies about a big, muscular lesbian necromancer/swordswoman and her thirsty AF girlfriend. If you’d like to buy a PDF copy of this story and support me, or even download a copy of it yourself to read offline for free, you can do so at Winking Wytch Press This story contains the following elements: 

Bone swords

A tall muscular butch lesbian

Outdated memes & references from the past forty years

A whole lotta ass kicking

A double marriage proposal!

It’ll be under the Read More.    

Goddess, my girlfriend is so gorgeous, I thought to myself. I loved the way she dipped her fries in ketchup between riotous laughter and jabbing wildly with it like a sword. Her biceps were as big as my head, and I made sure to drink in every moment of her flexing. The rolled up sleeves of her unbuttoned blue flannel shirt and her black cropped tank top gave me more than my fair share of her rippling muscles. There was a small flower tucked in her ear, held in place by the sunglasses that she wore on top of her forehead. I constantly found myself thinking, Godsblood she could crush my skull and I would thank her. We were on a date at our favorite burger joint on the space station, McTrans and she was busy telling me about her latest adventure with the boss of a local gang that claimed some of the unused maintenance tunnels as their turf.

“You should’ve been there Karla,” Annabelle said chomping down on the fry and grabbing another one from the huge pile in front of her. “It was fucking hot girl shit when I stabbed the leader of the Tunnel Snakes.” I didn’t bother to tell her that I thought everything she did was hot girl shit. She could pour an unhealthy amount of one of her horrible energy drinks in a bowl of chips and I would still think she was doing hot girl shit.

I smiled and slurped at my Estra-Cola and nodded. “Yeah I’ll bet babe,” I leaned forward, still grinning like a love struck puppy. I enjoyed listening to her escapades as much as I loved kissing her. And I wanted to do nothing more than kiss her all day, every day.

“He tried to come at me with a switch blade! It was hilarious. Guess he didn’t get the memo that a puny knife like that can’t even cut me.” She thumped her chest and grinned.

Annabelle was functionally an immortal necromancer. She would never age, and killing her was next to impossible. The only way to kill her was to find the physical manifestation of her soul and destroy it. Anybody looking for that would have to go through a rather embarrassing collection of toys hidden in her sock draws. She was particularly skilled in the art of boneshaping, and was usually wearing jewelry made from bone just in case. Today she wore the pair of gator jawbone earrings I had gotten her for our fourth anniversary last year.

I swirled my straw around idly and thought about the knife I had hidden in my purse. It was my own soul, fresh and tender, drawn from my own flesh. Like Annabelle, I was now also functionally immortal. Since we would now both survive until the heat death of the universe, I was comfrotable proposing to her, using that very knife as the marriage knife. Traditionally, a marriage knife would be inscribed with a poem, however I wasn’t sure about the consequences of literally inscribing anything on my soul, so I decided to opt for painting it on. It read:

“Though we walk in death,

You bring me nothing but life,

I love you with each undying breath,

T’would be an honor to call you wife.”

I hoped she would like it, as poetry was never my strong suit. Annabelle was always better at emotional things, wearing her heart on her sleeve. If she proposed to me it would’ve probably been with a handcrafted knife she taught herself to make, out of the finest materials she could afford and carved with a beautiful poem about her favorite parts of me. She was like the protagonist of a mushy romantic novel that way.

On a sudden impulse, I reached for my purse and began unzipping it. I barely noticed the harsh light of an approaching headlight shined brightly on Annabelle’s face as she picked up her hamburger. My hand curled around the hilt of the knife when suddenly the wall behind me exploded as a hoverbike came crashing into my back. The force of the impact knocked me flat against the table and pinned me beneath the heavy machine.

A man with a large brown pompadour in a black leather jacket with a rattlesnake patch sewn onto the back hopped off and landed on my hand, causing me to cry out in pain. The man kicked my tray off the table and looked at Annabelle. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” he sneered.

“Karla sweetie are you okay?” she asked, ignoring him.

“Yeah I’m alright. Just not used to getting used as a parking space.”

“Good,” Annabelle took another bite of her burger.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” the man shouted at her, pointing at Annabelle.

“I don’t pay attention to assholes who don’t know how to park correctly,” She replied as she shoved the rest of her burger in her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully.

“Yeah, well maybe I’d park correctly if you hadn’t killed my boss!” the man shouted back, drawing a basket hilt made of bone from his pocket. He suddenly flared with magical energy and the hilt grew a large thin rapier blade. Annabelle sighed and pulled out one of her bone earrings and fiddled with it as she swallowed the rest of her burger. She picked up a napkin and carefully wiped a small amount of ketchup from her face.

“Ah, so I came here initially with the plan to eat burgers with my girlfriend. Now I see I’m actually here to eat burgers with my girlfriend and kick your ass. And I’m all out of burger.” She flared up with magical energy and the bone fragment in her hand expanded and morphed into a long sword. Annabelle slid out of her seat and pointed her blade at the man’s hoverbike. “Get that damned thing off my girlfriend so we can fight properly.”

“To hell with your girlfriend, I’m going to make you pay!” the man screamed as he suddenly lunged at Annabelle, his rapier aiming for her heart. She sidestepped the attack and whacked the back of his head with the pommel of her sword. The man whirled around, gently rubbing his head. Although Annabelle was a full head taller than most people, when she was angry like this she seemed even taller.

“Alright, if you’re not going to do it, then I will,” Annabelle walked over and with one hand lifted the bike off my back and then effortlessly threw it at him. The force of the impact sent him through the soda dispenser and the wall behind it.

“Hey, take it outside!” the manager shouted. Annabelle carefully lifted me up and was clearly shocked to see that I was relatively unscathed.

“I’ll explain later,” I replied, “Go kick that guy’s ass.”

“Hold my flower babe?” she asked, pulling it out from her ear and pushing her sunglasses down over her eyes.

“Kick his ass baby, I’ve got your flower” I said, taking it from her.

“Good girl.” Annabelle spun on her heel and shouted to the man, “Stay out there, I don’t wanna wreck this place, just your face.”

The man was back on his feet, having shoved the bike off of himself with more magical energy flaring up as he healed himself.

He stood shakily on his feet, blood oozing from various scrapes and cuts. This man was clearly not prepared to fight a necromancer of Annabelle’s caliber, but I had to admit, he had some big ones to attack her in broad daylight like this. Annabelle was a godsdamned monster with that long sword. He lunged at her and she easily parried the attack as though she was swatting a fly. Her fist crashed int his nose, knocking him on his ass. She carefully planted one of her large black boots on his chest and pointed her long sword at his throat.

“Do you yield?” she demanded.

The man spat out a tooth and dropped his rapier. “I yield.”

“Good boy,” She stepped off of him and inspected his wrecked hoverbike. Magical energy flared up around her and she put a hand on the bike. It screeched and popped as it fixed itself. “I’ve even done you a courtesy and fixed your bike for you. Tell your next boss that the next time he decides to pick a fight, make sure he brings a bazooka or something more dangerous than a pocket knife.”

The man’s rapier retracted its blade and he climbed on to the bike and sped off.

Annabelle returned to me and sat down in front of me, lifting her sunglasses back up onto her face.

“Would you like your flower back?” I asked, offering it to her.

“Yeah, sure.” She took the flower back and tucked it under the stem of her glasses again. “So, how did you survive that?”

I reached into my purse and pulled out the knife, angling the poem on the blade away from her. “I, uh figured out how to ascend,” I replied. I slid out of my seat and knelt in front of her, bowing my head as I offered up the knife to her. “I uh wasn’t planning on proposing just quite yet, but y’know what? Annabelle Tenner, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She carefully took the knife from my hand and smiled, turning it over and reading the poem.

“Karla Deathgale, it would be my honor to call you my wife,” she replied tucking the marriage knife into her belt. She pulled another bone earring out of her ear and carefully shaped it into a knife and offered it to me, her head bowed. “But, I must insist, Karla Deathgale, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” My tears welled up in my eyes as I held the knife. It was also inscribed with a poem.

“To behold your beauty is to love you,

Your smile is like fresh morning dew,

I love it when we kiss,

And it’s you I always miss.”

--- Once more, if you enjoyed this story and want to buy it or download a copy of it, you can do so at Winking Wytch Press! 

[stitchnknit]

Well you see the people who made the basic shirt also have to buy their own basic shirt which costs $195 dollars and the other $5 is how much they are actually earning for their hours of labor

(this is not accurate, in reality the people who made the basic shirt are getting paid $5 for their hours of labor so they can buy the $5 plastic shirt, the other $195 goes to the ceo for deciding that basic shirts should be one size fits all)

(this is why I prefer to buy handmade, from small local handcrafters. If I'm going to pay $200 for a basic shirt I would like the person making it to be adequately compensated for their labor)

[petalsandkeepsakesjewelry]

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[menswearbrand]

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Cuban collar shirts, known for their open collar and relaxed fit, have become a staple for those seeking a vintage-inspired look. These shirts are perfect for summer parties or casual meet-ups and offer an effortlessly stylish appeal. Firangi Yarn’s selection of Cuban collar shirts includes options in various prints and fabrics that reflect a refined yet relaxed vibe.

6. Abstract Print Shirts: Artistic Flair in Every Stitch

An abstract print shirt brings an artistic touch to your wardrobe, making it ideal for creative settings or social gatherings. With eye-catching patterns, these shirts are easy to style with neutral pants or jeans. Firangi Yarn offers a range of abstract print shirts that add personality and color to any outfit.

7. Summer Shirts for Men: Beat the Heat in Style

Stay cool and stylish during the warmer months with Firangi Yarn’s summer shirts. Look for breathable materials like cotton or linen, as well as light colors and airy designs. These shirts pair effortlessly with shorts or light pants, making them perfect for hot days and vacation wardrobes.

Explore Firangi Yarn’s Collection

Whether you're looking for a bold party shirt, a crochet top with an artisan touch, or a breezy beach shirt, Firangi Yarn’s Men's Shirts Collection has a wide selection to meet your style needs.

[royalchainmail]

Why Should You Buy Aluminum Chainmail? A Comprehensive Guide

If you are considering purchasing chainmail, aluminum is an excellent choice. Its lightweight and durable properties make it a popular material for enthusiasts of medieval armor, role-playing events, cosplay, and historical reenactments. In this guide, we’ll discuss why you should buy aluminum chainmail, explore its benefits, and explain how it stands out from other materials.

What is Aluminum Chainmail?

Chainmail is a type of armor made from small metal rings linked together in a pattern to form a mesh. It has been used for centuries, primarily by warriors and soldiers, to protect against slashing and stabbing weapons. Modern chainmail is often made from various materials, including steel, titanium, and aluminum, to cater to different needs.

When you buy aluminum chainmail, you are choosing a lightweight and highly durable option. This makes it easier to wear for long periods, especially for costumes, reenactments, or displays.

Benefits of Aluminum Chainmail

When you buy aluminum chainmail, you're investing in numerous benefits that set it apart from other materials:

Lightweight and Comfortable: Aluminum is significantly lighter than steel, making it a more comfortable option to wear for extended periods. Whether you are participating in a historical reenactment or attending a cosplay event, aluminum chainmail won’t weigh you down, allowing you to enjoy the event without discomfort.

Rust Resistance: Aluminum is naturally resistant to rust and corrosion, which is a major advantage over steel chainmail. This means you don’t have to worry about constant maintenance or polishing to keep your chainmail looking pristine.

Affordable Option: Compared to other metals like titanium, aluminum chainmail is an affordable choice without compromising on quality. For those who are new to chainmail or looking to buy aluminum chainmail for a costume, it offers great value for money.

Easy to Customize: Aluminum chainmail is easy to manipulate, making it ideal for those who want to create custom pieces. Whether you are designing a specific pattern or creating a one-of-a-kind armor for your character, aluminum is much easier to work with compared to heavier metals.

Durability: Despite being lightweight, aluminum chainmail is strong and can withstand regular wear and tear. For people who participate in historical reenactments or live-action role-playing games (LARP), buying aluminum chainmail ensures that you have a long-lasting piece of armor.

Why Buy Aluminum Chainmail from Us?

If you're looking for high-quality chainmail, you can buy aluminum chainmail directly from our website Royal Chainmail. Our chainmail is handcrafted with precision and care to ensure each piece meets the highest standards.

When you buy aluminum chainmail from us, you benefit from:

Expert Craftsmanship: Our chainmail is made by skilled artisans with years of experience in crafting authentic chainmail designs. Every ring is meticulously linked to provide the perfect balance of durability and aesthetics.

Variety of Designs: We offer a range of styles and designs, from traditional chainmail shirts to more intricate patterns. Whether you are a reenactor, a cosplayer, or someone interested in historical armor, you’ll find the perfect design to suit your needs.

Customization Options: Do you need a specific size or design? We offer customization options that allow you to create a unique piece of armor. If you have a specific pattern in mind or need something tailored to your body, we can make it happen.

Fast Shipping: We understand that when you order something as special as aluminum chainmail, you don’t want to wait too long. That’s why we offer fast and reliable shipping, ensuring your chainmail reaches you as quickly as possible.

How to Choose the Right Aluminum Chainmail

When you decide to buy aluminum chainmail, it’s important to consider the purpose for which you’ll be using it. If you’re a cosplayer or attending a themed event, you may want a lighter, more decorative piece. For reenactments or LARPing, durability is key.

Sizing: Ensure that the chainmail fits properly. A poorly fitted chainmail shirt can restrict movement or be uncomfortable. We offer a range of sizes to fit various body types, but custom sizing is also available if needed.

Style: Consider the style of chainmail that best suits your needs. For those participating in battles or reenactments, a traditional European 4-in-1 pattern is ideal for its historical accuracy and strength. On the other hand, if you’re using the chainmail as part of a costume, you may want a more intricate pattern that stands out.

Finish: Some people prefer a shiny, polished look, while others might want a matte finish for a more rustic or weathered appearance. Choose the finish that best matches the look you are going for.

Conclusion

Aluminum chainmail is a versatile and practical option for anyone looking to invest in quality armor. Whether you are a seasoned reenactor or a first-time cosplayer, aluminum offers a balance of comfort, affordability, and durability that makes it an ideal choice. At Royal Chainmail, we offer high-quality, handcrafted chainmail that is perfect for any occasion.

When you buy aluminum chainmail from us, you’re not just purchasing armor – you’re investing in a piece of history. With our wide range of designs and customization options, you can find the perfect chainmail that fits your style and needs. Don’t wait any longer—explore our collection today and buy aluminum chainmail that will last for years to come.

Final Thoughts

If you’re still on the fence about whether to buy aluminum chainmail, consider the advantages it offers in terms of comfort, rust resistance, and affordability. It’s an excellent material for both beginners and seasoned enthusiasts, offering flexibility for different uses and styles. So, whether you’re looking to complete your medieval armor collection or create an unforgettable cosplay costume, aluminum chainmail is the way to go!

https://royalchainmail.com/ Royal Chain Mail 37042 , Clarksville Tennessee , United States +1 929 680 2404 info@royalchainmail.com