#heat embossing
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Happy Easter! Made this Easter card,first time I did heat-embossing.
[Image description: A blue egg-shaped Easter card with heat-embossed gold patterns of stripes and a butterfly. Next to it â A blue egg-shaped Easter card with the words âHappy Easterâ, crack lines to represent the egg hatching , and the artistâs signature âClaudiaâ.]
#my artwork#Easter#happy Easter#heat embossing#embossing#holiday card#Easter card#greeting card#traditional art#arts and crafts
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#Thank you#Heat embossing#Layers#Flowers#Blue#handmade cards#cardmaking#papercraft#stamping#craftblr
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Pals Blog Hop - Layers of Beauty Watercoloring Technique
Hi, Stamper. Welcome to the Stampinâ Pretty Palsâ Blog Hop and my Watercoloring Technique card! This month, the theme is our Favorites from the New Catalog. We hope to inspire you with our creations today! You will find the lineup at the end of my post to help you âhopâ along from Pal to Pal. I chose to work with the Layers of Beauty Bundle. I heat embossed the large floral image ontoâŚ
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Snowflakes
My final set of Christmas cards this year. A foiling failure forced me to adapt and it ended up being my favourite set as well.
This is my final set of Christmas cards for this year; all that remains now is to make an individual card for my mum. I knew exactly what I wanted to do as soon as I saw the snowflake stamp in this yearâs Visible Image Christmas release. I absolutely love this large distressed snowflake and the smaller versions match it perfectly. I donât tend to go into a lot of detail about how I create myâŚ
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"do no harm but take no shit"
Watching The Trilogy today and was inspired to do a little more tengwar calligraphy. Using embossing powder this time. I have always loved this quote, but I was particularly inspired to do this today by the always dope AF @queerofthedagger who has the quote in their header and the vibe in their posts đ¤
#highlynerdy makes#lotr#Tolkien#lettering#yeah like it's really fucking hard to film yourself embossing#without accidentally burning the shit out of yourself with the heat gun#or getting the piece out of the frame sorry I tried#I'd do it again but it took forever this time lol#do no harm but take no shit#one of my life mottos#happy super belated birthday Mona đ¤#embossed#tengwar#elvish#i used the transcriber#highlynerdy lettering
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Elevate Your Branding Game with Heat Stamp and Paper Embosser: A Guide by Lemonade India
In the bustling world of business, where every brand strives to stand out amidst the competition, the significance of branding cannot be overstated. It's the identity that sets a business apart, leaving a lasting impression on customers. In this quest for distinction, innovative tools like heat stamps and paper embossers have emerged as game-changers. At Lemonade India, we understand the power of these tools in elevating brand presence and leaving a memorable mark. Let's delve into the world of heat stamps and paper embossers and explore how they can revolutionize your branding strategy.
Understanding Heat Stamps:
Heat stamps, also known as hot stamps or foil stamps, are a versatile tool used for imprinting logos, text, or designs onto various surfaces with the application of heat and pressure. Whether it's packaging materials, promotional items, or stationery, heat stamps offer a sophisticated and professional way to brand your products.
At Lemonade India, we offer a wide range of heat stamp options to suit your branding needs. From classic metallic foils to vibrant colors, our heat stamps can add a touch of elegance and personality to your products. Imagine your company logo shimmering in gold or silver on your packaging, instantly catching the eye of potential customers. With our high-quality heat stamps, you can turn ordinary items into branded masterpieces that leave a lasting impression.
The Art of Paper Embossing:
Paper embossing is another powerful technique that adds texture and dimension to your printed materials. By creating raised patterns or designs on paper, embossing adds a tactile element that engages the senses and enhances the perceived value of your brand.
At Lemonade India, we specialize in custom paper embossing services that bring your designs to life. Whether it's business cards, letterheads, or invitations, our paper embossing techniques can transform ordinary paper into extraordinary works of art. Picture your company logo intricately embossed on premium paper, exuding luxury and professionalism. With our precise craftsmanship and attention to detail, we can help you create printed materials that leave a lasting impression on your audience.
Benefits of Heat Stamps and Paper Embossers:
Brand Recognition: By incorporating your logo or design into your packaging and printed materials, heat stamps and paper embossers help enhance brand recognition. Customers will easily identify your products and associate them with your brand, fostering loyalty and trust.
Professionalism: The crisp, clear impressions created by heat stamps and paper embossers convey professionalism and attention to detail. Whether you're a small startup or a well-established corporation, investing in quality branding tools can elevate the perception of your brand in the eyes of consumers.
Customization: One of the greatest advantages of heat stamps and paper embossers is their ability to customize. From choosing the perfect foil color to selecting the right paper stock, you have full control over the look and feel of your branded materials. This level of customization allows you to tailor your branding strategy to suit your unique style and identity.
Versatility: Heat stamps and paper embossers can be used on a wide range of materials, including paper, cardboard, leather, and more. Whether you're branding packaging, promotional items, or corporate stationery, these versatile tools can adapt to your needs and deliver consistent, high-quality results.
How Lemonade India Can Help:
At Lemonade India, we're passionate about helping businesses elevate their brand presence through innovative branding solutions. Our team of experts specializes in heat stamping and paper embossing techniques, and we're committed to delivering exceptional results that exceed your expectations.
Whether you're looking to revamp your packaging, create stunning promotional materials, or add a touch of elegance to your stationery, we have the tools and expertise to bring your vision to life. With our dedication to quality, craftsmanship, and customer satisfaction, we're here to support you every step of the way on your branding journey.
Conclusion:
In today's competitive marketplace, effective branding is essential for success. Heat stamps and paper embossers offer a unique opportunity to elevate your brand presence and leave a lasting impression on your audience. By investing in these innovative branding tools, you can set your brand apart from the competition and create memorable experiences for your customers.
At Lemonade India, we're here to help you harness the power of heat stamps and paper embossers to take your branding strategy to the next level. From custom designs to flawless execution, we're committed to helping you achieve your branding goals and stand out in the crowded marketplace. Get in touch with us today to learn more about how we can transform your brand with our expert branding solutions.
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Mut Shipping Customs
At MUT Shipping Customs we create custom embroidery that people love! We believe in quality work that makes people's heads turn. We are recent college graduates that wanted to work together and start a small business bringing you embroidered items that are personal and mean something to you, your business, and your loved ones. We are grateful for your business and cherish the bond with our customers.
Custom Promotional Products
#Mut Shipping Customs#Los Angeles#Embroidery#Screen Printing#Embossing#Heat Transfers#Laser Engraving#Branded Company Gear#Custom Promotional Products
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nice boys donât kiss like that.
summary. when your former rival chances upon your diary and reads all the unpleasant things youâve written about him, he takes it upon himself to change your mind.
pairing. kim mingyu x fem!reader genres. fluff, developing relationship!au, rivals to lovers!au, pining, kind of suggestive? idk word count. 3.3k
âł warnings. profanity, making out âł a/n. inspired by this scene from bridget jonesâs diary. reposted from my old account.
It is on a twilit Saturday evening, at precisely 7:01 P.M, that Kim Mingyu is accosted by a notebook for the first time in his life.
He lets out a startled grunt and finds himself with an armful of thingsâa denim jacket, a crumpled grocery shopping list, an empty box of Tic Tacs, a woollen beanie with a questionable brown stain he thinks is ketchup; all presumably from whatever depths of your drawer he can see you hunched over, searching for something that remains stubbornly elusive. The offensive projectile whizzes past his shoulder and lands on the polished wooden floor with a thud.
Mingyu stands at the doorway to your bedroom, having bypassed the living room and hallway that leads to the kitchen in favour of pressing heated kisses to your cheeks and collarbones. He watches you, bemused. A few weeks ago, he mightâve laughed at your frazzled state with derision. Now, he still wants to laugh, but more in an affectionate way.
You turn around swiftly, nearly tripping on a stray stocking on the floor, and he bites back a smile when you mumble a string of curse words under your breath.Â
âHi,â you say, breathing heavily. âIâm really sorry.â
Then you slam the door shut on his face.
Well, Mingyu thinks. This is the first time a girlâs closed the door when Iâm in her apartment.
Faced with nothing else to do except wait for your arrival, he drops the Tic Tac box on the floor, hangs your jacket and beanie on the back of the sofa, and almost stubs his toe on the corner of the notebook.
Wincing at the close call, Mingyu glares at the book like itâs the cause of all his troubles. DIARY, it reads, embossed in ornate gold letters. The cover is a rich shade of red, rough and leather-bound. He picks it up; itâs rather heavy, and judging by the frayed corners and the random bits of paper poking out of the sides, it seems to be quite old too. Regardless, it is well-cherishedâhe knows this because he knows you, and youâre the kind of person who wears your heart on your sleeve.
Which is why he knows opening it is a bad idea.Â
Mingyu shrugs and places the book on the coffee table, taking a seat on the plush, olive green sofa opposite it. He leans his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers under his chin. From the inside of your room, he can hear muffled screamingâshould he be worried? The screaming stops. Mingyu lets his tense shoulders relax.
His eyes zero in on your diary once more. He shouldnât open itâhe really, really shouldnât. It would be a horrible breach of your privacy. Your trust in him would be broken forever, and even if he somehow manages to win it back, it will always be a stain in the fabric of your still-developing relationship.
But.
One tiny peek canât hurt, right? Heâs only waiting for you to come out of your room, after all. Just one little look, and then heâll close the book immediately. It canât possibly hurt. Curiosity is both a blessing and a vice, he figures, and since heâs already stacked up on vices, there is no harm in adding to his karmic points.
So he picks up your diary and flips to a random page, freezing momentarily when he hears an irritated grunt and the sound of something hitting the floor from inside your room. Your handwriting is a lot messier than it usually is; you probably save your best penmanship for official things, and your personal diary is not one of them. That, or you were just frustrated.
12th June I fucking hate Kim Mingyu. I hope I never have to see him and his stupid handsome obnoxious face EVER AGAIN. Iâm so DONE with him.
Mingyuâs cheeks prickle with heat. Heâs thoroughly invested now. He turns to another page.
14th June Ran into KMG again today. He spilled coffee all over me what else is new but. he actually apologised!!! Crazy. Maybe he was just in a good mood. Either way, my new blouse is ruined so fuck him.
The strangest thing is that Mingyu actually remembers that day vividly. You were wearing a gorgeous cream-coloured blouse, and he was so caught up in staring at you talking animatedly with your supervisor that he zoned out completely and accidentally spilled his coffee on you because he tripped over his shoelaces. Now, knowing that your blouse was new at the time brings up a slight twinge of guilt. Heâll ask you about it later.
22nd June KMG is actuallyâŚâŚ kinda nice? He supported me in the meeting today with the clients when they were being so tiresome. He has a nice smile I guess.
Mingyu smiles widely.Â
23rd June Nevermind. I take back everything I said. Kim Mingyu is a prat with zero social skills. I mean, would it kill him to say hello back??? I get that heâs busy but i thought weâd made progress. One thing is for sure. Kim Mingyu is NOT nice. Not even a little bit.
His smile falters.
The next page contains a similar anecdoteâsomething about how he always vehemently disagrees with everything you say, and how despite his good looks he was a complete and utter asshole. Further investigation reveals the same thing: you hate Kim Mingyu with a burning passion.
And⌠Well, he couldnât lie and say the feeling wasnât mutual at one point in timeâbut it has mellowed down since then, gently and slowly, like a fallen leaf being carried by a soft wind. There came a day where Mingyu found himself glaring at you, not with disdain in his eyes, but with a steady thrum in his chest where his heart lay. Later, he would realise that he didnât hate youânot even a little bit.
He assumed you felt the same way. Why else would your smirks, so full of malice, melt into grins that could light up a whole town? Why else would you agree to go on a date with him when he asked you out, one day, after work, tripping over his words like an elementary schoolboy? Why else would you invite him home and ask him to spend the night?
Of course, it doesnât explain why youâve locked yourself up in your bedroom currently (frankly, heâs a bit befuddled about that). But the sentiment must still be there.
Itâs a diary, he reasons.Â
Itâs your diary, his brain screams back, and thatâs the real issue here, isnât it?
Diaries are full of crap, anyway, he thinks to himself.
Diaries contain the Real Thoughts And Emotions of a human being, his brain hollers back.
Mind swirling, Mingyu closes the book and places it back on the coffee table, barely aware of his movements. Have you been lying to him? No, thereâs absolutely no wayâhe trusts you far more than that, and besides, what would you even lie to him about? There are no benefits to stringing him along, and youâre not the kind of person who would do something like that, anyway.
You must have had a change of heart, then. Thatâs the only conclusion he can think of. Your diary entries come to a standstill after 27th June, which means you havenât opened it in a while. Itâs also around the same time you stopped picking fights with each other. Something must have changed by then; Mingyu is glad it did.
Satisfied with his deduction, Mingyu stuffs his hands in his pockets and crosses his ankles together. Behind your bedroom door, you remain suspiciously silent. He considers knocking on the door once to make sure youâre okayâor if you need any help, because staying put inside your room for over twenty minutes is certainly not normal when you have a guest and potential boyfriend over.Â
Almost as if youâve heard his thoughts, the door to your room swings open. You stand at the doorway, breathing heavily.
âHey,â Mingyu says, quickly standing up. âEverything good?â
You beam at him. âPerfect. Sorry to have kept you waiting, Iââ
Your gaze drops to the coffee table, landing on your diary. Mingyu keeps his gaze fixed on you. You look back at him, lips parted.Â
âUm,â you begin. âItâsâ Itâs just a diary.â
âClearly.â Mingyu fights back a smile.
You chew your bottom lip nervously. âDid you read it?â
âI did,â he confirms, nodding. âIâm sorry. I was just curiousââ
You groan, lifting your hands and covering your face with your palms. âFuck.â
Mingyu reaches out and encircles your wrists with his fingers, gently tugging your hands away from your face. He finds it oddly endearing. âItâs only a diary. Iâm sorry I read it. I shouldnât have.â
âI donât care about that. You⌠you probably read all the horrible, mean things I wrote about you.â
âWell,â he says, shrugging a little, âsome of the entries were definitely⌠interesting.â
You blink. Unable to help himself, Mingyu drops a light kiss to the tip of your nose.
âI donât hate you, you know,â you tell him.
âMhm.â
âIâm serious.â
âMhm.â
âMingyu.â
âIâll tell you what I think about your diary later, âkay?â he says, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. âCome with me.â
âWhat? Where?â Confusion paints your features.
Mingyu huffs out a laugh. âJust trust me.â
Mingyu places the brand-new diary heâd bought for you on the dining table with a flourish. âDâyou have a pen?â
You eye him suspiciously, gaze darting between him and the new, dark green notebook on the table. He grins, carefree and indulgent. Still wary, you hand him a blue ballpoint pen from the pen stand placed above the drawers to the left. He hums and uncaps it.
Flipping open the book to the first page, he bends down and writes slowly.
This book belongs to Kim Mingyu and
Mingyu stops writing and holds the pen out expectantly to you. âHere. Write your name.â
Confused, but curious, you oblige. Your name, written in your handwriting, next to his own semi-legible scrawl, makes a warm, affectionate feeling bubble up inside his chest. He wonders what it would look like when both your names are signed next to each other on a marriage certificate. Then, he wonders when and where your wedding would take place. A summer wedding sounds nice, but the sweltering heat might be a bit of a problem. Winter weddings are beautiful for sure, but neither of you is a big fan of the cold.
Heâs in the process of thinking of names for your children and pet dog when you break him out of his daze.Â
âHey. Whatâs all this about, hm?â You nudge his shoulder lightly with yours.
Mingyu says, âItâs a diary, but for both of us.â
You glance at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. He swings an arm over your shoulder and draws you closer to him, smiling when flyaway strands of your hair tickle his cheek.Â
âIn your old diary, it was pretty obvious you, uh, didnât like me much,â he explains, holding up his free hand when you open your mouth to protest. âI donât blame you. We were assholes to each other most of the time. But weâve moved past that. At least, I hope we have.â
Your reply is instantaneous. âOf course. Of course, we have.â
Mingyu trails his fingers absent-mindedly over your arm. âRight. And⌠Itâs kind of silly, I guessâI donât knowâbut I thoughtâif we kept a new diary together, one that we could use to document our journey, with both our perspectives in the same placeâI thought it would be nice.â
Your mouth parts and you look at him, an indiscernible expression on your face. He shifts from one foot to the other, feeling suddenly nervous. You donât betray any hint of emotion on your face, but Mingyuâs heart hammers inside his chest. What if you think heâs being silly and overly sentimental? What if you find the idea ridiculous?
âWe donât have to if you donât want to,â he quickly backtracks. âI know weâve only just moved past the idea of being more than friends, butââ He stops himself.
âButâŚ?â you gently prompt him, twisting around to see him better.
Mingyu swallows. âBut I canât imagine not being with you.â
He hears your sharp intake of breath, and in the next moment, the breath is knocked out of his lungs when you throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a tight, rib-squeezing hug. Automatically, his arms circle your waist, and he presses a light, barely-there kiss to the junction of your neck and jaw.Â
Eyes shining happily, you pull back slightly with a wide grin on your face. âYouâre so hopelessly romantic, it makes my chest hurt.â
âConsider this your trial run. If you donât like it, Iâll stop.â
âDonât you dare.â
He sighs, content. âOkay, I wonât.â
âWhat should our first diary entry be about?â you ask, loosening your hold on him.
âAbout how you ditched me inside your house for almost half an hour after you invited me over.â Heâs only half-joking.
You look away, embarrassed and sheepish. âI can explain.â
âIâm sure you can.â
âIâm being serious, Mingyu.â
âSo youâve said,â he agrees breezily.
âActually,â you begin, a tad shy, âI was thinking it could be about thisâabout how you bought us a diary and then kissed me in front of the dining table after we christened the book.â
Mingyuâs eyes widen, but before he can get a word in edgewise, your lips are already centimetres away from his. âMay I?â you whisper.
âYeah. âCourse,â he murmurs back.
The kiss makes him feel dizzy, like heâs had one too many bottles of sodaâfizzy and light-headed. Your lips are soft, mouth warm; you taste like chocolate, and he licks into your mouth desperately. His fingers dig into your waist, bunching up the material of your t-shirt, and you run your hand through his hair, tugging gently. Heâs kissed you before, of course, but something about this time feels important, a core memory sort of thing. Later that night, heâll sit beside you on your bed and watch as you write in your shared diary, and heâll make fun of the way you chew on your pen cap when youâre thinking of what to write next and youâll shut him up with a kiss.
But for now, he indulges himself whole-heartedly. You let out little gasps which he swallows with his mouth. He tilts his head and kisses you deeper. Only when his lungs are burning does he pull away, and even then, not without a parting peck to the space in between your eyebrows.
âMingyu,â you say, breathless.Â
âYeah?â he responds, unable to tear his gaze off of your kiss-bitten lips.
âI really am sorry about what I wrote about you,â you apologise, looking down once and then back at him. âItâs only a diaryâeveryone knows diaries are full of crap.â
âI know.â Mingyu smiles tenderly. âIâm not mad.â
âYou should be. I would be, if I was in your place.â
His eyes dart back to meet yours, and he grimaces. âIf you really think about it, Iâm the one who should be apologising, not you. I shouldnât have read your diary, no matter how curious I was.â
âI⌠donât really care about that, weirdly enough,â you say thoughtfully. âI was more worried about the fact that you thought I hated you and you were gonna leave me. Not so much about you reading the diary itself.â
âPfft,â Mingyu says, affectionately condescending. âIf I left you, where would I go?â
Your mouth parts as you stare at him, dumbfounded. âJesus. How do you say things like that unironically?â
âI could compose whole sonnets about you and it wouldnât be enough.â
âThatâs ironic, I hope.â
He tilts his head and pulls you close. âOnly one way to find out.â
When he captures your lips with his this time, itâs with colliding bodies and biting teeth. He runs his tongue across your bottom lip, and you shudder in his arms, moaning. Somehow, you stumble back into the living room, a mess of tangled limbs.
Briefly pulling away, Mingyu sits down on the same sofa heâd occupied earlier and clumsily pulls you onto his lap. You brace your hands on his shoulders for support, lifting your head up when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.
âFuck, Mingyu,â you gasp, eyes falling shut.
He hums against your skin. âTell me what you were doing in your room for so long.â
âI wasâahâitâs embarrassing.â
Mingyu stops his movements. âI wonât judge you.â
âI know,â you say, teeth worrying your lower lip. âIâll tell you someday.â
When you purse your lips, ready for him to kiss you again, Mingyu lets out a soft laugh. âSweetheart.â
âWhat?âÂ
âI think I need to correct some of your⌠perceptions of me,â he murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down your back.
You furrow your eyebrows. âWhat?â
âIâm sorry about your blouse,â he whispers. âYou looked really pretty wearing it, you know. Got distracted. Couldnât take my eyes off you.â
âMingyu, I donât know what youâre talkingââ You gasp when he kisses the column of your throat.
âIâm sorry for being obnoxious,â he continues, lowering his head and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck. âBut Iâm not sorry you think Iâm handsome.â
âOnly your face,â you mutter, but you tug on his hair to get him to tilt his head up. When he does, you kiss him again, your hands warm and placed on the junctions where his neck meets his shoulders.Â
âIâll support you in more than just meetings,â he says, pulling back. His breath ghosts over your lips, prompting a shiver to pass through your body. Your eyes widen when you finally, finally realise what heâs talking about. âIâll tell those stupid clients to shut up and take it.â
You laugh, bright and happy, and Mingyu wants to bottle the sound up greedily. âThat sounds kinda wrong,â you say.
He shrugs, his smile turning lopsided. âIâm sorry for ignoring you when you said hi to me. I wonât do it ever again.â
You laugh again, teeth flashing in the warm glow of the living room lights.
Thereâs an odd feeling in Mingyuâs chestâsomething warm and goldenâsomething he can only describe as being terribly, hopelessly lovesick for you.
He whispers your name again, kissing the corner of your mouth. âTell me what you were doing in your room for so long.â
You groan again, your previous amusement turning into embarrassment. Your next words are muffled by his shoulder, your lips warm against his clavicle as you mumble something only you can understand.
âWhatâs that? I couldnât hear you,â Mingyu says mischievously.
 Another sound of mortification.
âI wonât laugh,â he says. âPromise.â
âUnderwear,â you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. âI was searching for a better pair of underwear than the one I had on.â
To his credit, Mingyu really doesnât laugh. It takes a lot of effort, though, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent his giggles from escaping.Â
You lean back and narrow your eyes at him. âOh, go on. I know youâre dying to laugh.â
He shakes his head, cheeks blown out like a pufferfish. You stare at him quietly.
Minutes later, he exhales shakily. âSee? I didnât laugh. Iâm a nice guy.â
His lips find yours again, slower and more languorous this time. After all, he has all the time in the world nowâto hold you like this, kiss you gentlyâand he plans to cherish each second. Your tongue swipes his lower lip, and he parts his mouth willingly. He feels like putty underneath you, as he uses one of his hands to cup your face and deepen the kiss. Your lips move against his, already familiar, but he could never stop craving it.
When you pull back to breathe, your eyes are wide and your lips are swollenâa fact that Mingyu notes with pride.
âNice boys donât kiss like that,â you breathe out.
âOh, yes, they fucking do.â
#mingyu x reader#seventeen x reader#mingyu fluff#seventeen fluff#mingyu scenarios#seventeen scenarios#mingyu x you#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt fluff#svt scenarios#svt x you#seventeen#kim mingyu#mingyu
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You Can Create It - International Challenge & Inspiration - December 2023
You Can Create It â International Challenge & Inspiration â December 2023
You Can Create It Iâm so excited to be part of the international âYou Can Create It!â group of Stampinâ Up! demonstrators. The group was started by German demonstrators Anja Luft and Heike Fallwickl as a challenge to see what different and beautiful projects can be created from the same list of just a few materials. Every trimester there are 4 monthly envelopes plus an extras envelope. EachâŚ
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#Adhesive Sheets#Alphabet a la Mode Dies#Biggest Wish Stamp Set#Festive Pearls#Heat Tool#Metallics Embossing Powders#Snowflake Specialty Vellum
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Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.
By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.
When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.
Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.
So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are đŠˇ), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.
Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.
Anyways, about the bind!
This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.
To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.
The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.
The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!
The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.
It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.
Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!
(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)
#linked universe#bookbinding#fanbinding#ficbinding#this is an adjuration#my binds#ivyring bookbinding#hi freyja!
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Ineffable Sleepy Babies
Beaming rays of sunlight, creeping their way through the gaps between the curtains, were slicing through the silent bookshop, dust dancing in the soft and simultaneously stinging light. A groan left Aziraphaleâs throat as his head started to pound like a hammer that was slamming against his temple continuously. For his own confusion, he found himself hugging an empty bottle of wine. He felt that the cushion of the couch permanently embossed its crumply leather texture into his right cheek. Good Lord, he must have passed out last night. He couldnât tell when exactly this had happened. The angel could not recall when the last time was, he was drinking that much without sobering up afterwards. As he woke up a little bit more, he froze as he felt a very unfamiliar pressure on his side and around his belly. He blinked in confusion and made a face, as he felt the warmth of another body weighting against his own. He slowly turned his head and noticed a glimpse of red hair poking out over his shoulder, a head leaned heavily against his upper arm.
He wasnât sure why he felt so surprised about the fact that it was Crowley who was sleeping next to him â his long, slinky body draped over the shape of Aziraphaleâs corporation, one of his arms wrapped around his waist, his head resting onto the angelâs arm, one leg draped over Aziraphaleâs thigh.
They had been sitting next to each other last night, like they never did in the shop before. This physical closeness washed a wave of anxiety over the angel, and he sobered himself up immediately, getting rid of the hangover and the bad aftertaste of the remaining alcohol leaving his corporation. His mind cleared and thoughts were starting to race around in his head. Simultaneously, he didnât dare to move, to not wake the demon from his slumber. Crowleyâs body, in hard difference to his hands which always felt freezing when they touched Aziraphaleâs in the past, was radiating a comfortable, calming warmth, seeping through the angelâs clothes like a heating blanket.
You can read further on my AO3.
#good omens#good omens fanart#fanart#ineffable husbands#crowley x aziraphale#good omens fancomic#ineffable idiots#ineffable#ineffable spouses#cuddling & snuggling#crowley x arizaphale#aziraphale x crowley#ineffable lovers#warm and snuggly#bookshop#good omens ao3#ao3#my fanfiction#good omens fanfiction#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#archive of our own#neil himself#david tennant#neilhimself#michael sheen
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#Packing up a bunch of cards to sell in a local gift shop#Birthday#Stamping#Fussy cutting#Heat embossing#pattern paper#cardmaking#papercraft#craftblr#handmade cards#Packaging#Masking bc the stamp is actually not that long!
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Shattered
Hockey AU
Series Masterlist Part 3 <- âŚ.âş.âŚ.âş.⌠-> Part 5 - Burning Desire
word count: 8k content: [ explicit sexual content, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, praise, degredation, dominance/submission, biting, group almost sex?, 5 guys but it isn't a gangbang sorry | infidelity, alcohol mention, strong language, emotional conflict, verbal conflict] summary: At a lavish party you're reluctantly attending on behalf of your boyfriend, who's occupied with a pressing PR matter, temptation proves too alluring to resist. A heated encounter with several teammates in a secluded room is quickly shattered, forcing you to face the consequences of your actions. author's note: :)
The invitation had arrived in a gold-embossed envelope, signaling the kind of wealth and excess only a notorious socialite like Ianthe could muster. When the team saw the invite, their collective groan was almost comical.
âOh, come on,â Azriel had grumbled, tossing the invitation onto the table. âDoes she really expect us to show up to one of these again?â
âYou know how she is,â Rhysand had replied with a roll of his eyes. âSheâll throw a fit if we donât, and then all of her fansâll spam our comments.â
Despite their reluctance, Cassian had insisted on attending. âItâs good PR,â he had said with a smirk. âSadly, I canât make it. Iâve got a prior engagement.â
Eris had raised an eyebrow. âWhat engagement?â
âA press event,â Cassian had replied smoothly. âTo address your⌠inappropriate use of the teamâs Twitter and make clear that the rest of us had nothing to do with it.â
Eris had looked defensive. âHow was I supposed to know it would blow up like that?â
Cassian had stifled a chuckle. âYeah, how would you have known? The Vipers tweeting, âCalling all baddies with fat asses, slide into my DMs if you want a real man tonight,â and then following it up by replying to half of them with âayo shawtayââwith five yâsââhit me up.â Not unusual at all.â He paused, letting the absurdity of the situation sink in. Laughter bubbled up around the room, the tension breaking as Cassian continued, âSome outlets reported it as âdisturbing,â so now Iâm on damage control. Important stuff. Youâll manage without me.â
So, you found yourself amidst a sea of opulence, far removed from your usual comfort. The penthouse was alive with celebrities, influencers, and high-profile guests. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a warm glow, casting reflections off designer clothes and extravagant jewelry. Conversations buzzed around you, a mix of superficial small talk and name-dropping that made you feel even more out of place.
Ianthe had greeted you with an overly enthusiastic hug, her perfume almost overwhelming. âOh my goodness, (y/n)! Itâs been ages since Iâve seen you and Cassian!â she exclaimed, her voice loud and piercing. She wore a shimmering gold gown, the fabric hugging her every curve and sparkling under the dim lights. âWhere is he?â
âBabe, you should go. Someone needs to make sure they donât embarrass themselves, and since I canât, youâre the only one I trust to handle it,â he had said, brushing a stray bit of hair behind your ear. âBesides, Ianthe will make it a whole thing if I donât show up or at least send someone in my place. Iâve got that press thing to handle.â
âDo I really have to go?â you had asked, frowning. âI donât know anyone there well enough to enjoy myself.â
Cassian had sighed, wrapping his arms around you. âI know itâs not ideal, but itâll be over before you know it. Plus, the guysâll be there. Just stay for a bit, make an appearance, and then you can leave. Ianthe will appreciate it, and so will the team.â
You had huffed, certain theyâd appreciate your presence. âFine, but you owe me.â
He had laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âDeal. Iâll make it up to you, promise.â
âHe couldnât make it,â you said with a forced smile, smoothing down the fabric of your elegant but understated dress. âBut he insisted I come in his place.â
Iantheâs laugh had been high and tinkling, grating on your nerves. âOf course he did! Well, youâre here now, so make yourself at home! Enjoy the party!â She flitted off to greet another guest, leaving you feeling even more adrift.
Despite her warm greeting, you couldnât shake the feeling of being out of place. As the night wore on, you tried to mingle, but the crowd was overwhelming. You watched the guys make small talk in their circles, but the noise and the crowd became suffocating. Seeking refuge, you slipped away from the chaos, your steps quickening as you wandered through Iantheâs penthouse.
The further you ventured from the bustling noise, the more the laughter and music faded into a distant murmur. You eventually discovered a quiet hallway upstairs, offering a welcome escape from the revelry below. Following the corridor, you stumbled upon a study, its shelves lined with immaculate rows of books, each seeming more decorative than practical. You stood in the center of the room, the serene atmosphere wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The soft glow of a nearby lamp cast gentle shadows on the walls, and the muffled sounds from the party below felt like a world away. It was a rare moment of peace, a chance to collect your thoughts and find solace in the stillness of the room.
Your gaze drifted around the dim room, but your thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in a web of regret. Cassian's face flashed in your mind, a painful reminder of the trust you had shattered. The memories of what had transpired were vivid: stolen moments in the locker room with Azriel and Rhysand, the rooftop terrace with Helion and Tarquin. It had all started with light touches and innocent flirtations, things Cassian tolerated, but you had crossed a line. The reality of your actions pressed heavily on you, each encounter a mark against your integrity. Every touch from Tarquin, every whispered promise from Helion, only served to deepen your regret. It wasnât just the physical betrayals that stung but the realization that you had allowed things to spiral out of control. What had driven you to push the boundaries so far? Was it the thrill of the forbidden, the chase of something new, or simply a frantic attempt to fill a void you hadnât fully acknowledged before? The ache in your chest grew with each passing moment, a constant reminder of the damage you had done.
The sudden rush of music and laughter from the party downstairs broke the silence, flooding into the study as the door creaked open. You turned, startled, and saw Rhysand and Tarquin step into the room. Rhysandâs gaze was sharp, a mixture of curiosity and something else flickering in his eyes. Tarquinâs expression was equally intrigued, his attention immediately drawn to you.
âWhat brings you up here, alone, with all the fun downstairs?â Rhysandâs voice was smooth, almost curious, but there was an undercurrent of something more in his gaze.Â
âI needed a break from all the noise,â you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
Tarquin leaned casually against the doorframe, amusement evident in his eyes. âIanthe does have a flair for the dramatic, doesnât she?â His tone was light, almost playful.
Rhysand nodded, his expression almost sympathetic, but his eyes never left yours. âMust be hard without Cassian here.â
You swallowed hard, feeling the tension in the room. âYeah, itâs... different.â
Rhysand chuckled softly. âTarquin and I were just chatting, and your name came up.â He stepped closer and brushed a hand down his sleeve, as if casually dismissing any pretense. âHe mentioned something interesting about you.â
He took a final step, closing the distance between you. His presence was that of danger and allure. âSo, I told him something interesting in return.â His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. âAnd, well,â he continued, his lips curling into a predatory smile, âwe just had to share what we learned with Azriel and Helion.â
As if on cue, the door opened again â Tarquinâs doing, you noticed â and Azriel and Helion walked in. Helionâs grin widened as he sauntered over with an easy, confident stride. âWhen they came over, we were just having a little chat about you,â he remarked, his tone light and teasing. But there was something in the way his gaze lingered on you, something that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous amusement.
Azrielâs sharp gaze lingered on you. âDid you think we wouldnât notice the way youâve been acting?â His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was a subtle edge to it as if he were piecing together a puzzle you hadnât meant for them to solve. It wasnât that you were intentionally hiding anything; it just seemed to happen that way. He paused just a few steps away, his presence quietly commanding.
Tarquin idly traced his fingers along the edge of a nearby bookshelf, his gaze drifting back to you with a casual curiosity. âWeâve noticed youâve slipping away whenever one of us gets too close. Almost like youâre avoiding something... or someone.â His voice was light, but it was clear he was feigning ignorance.
Rhysandâs voice dripped with mock indignation. âYouâre even avoiding eye contact with us. How do you think that makes us feel?â His gaze was intense, holding you in place.Â
The room was charged with tension as they closed in on you, their questions relentless. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the right words amidst your rising anxiety. âLook, itâs not that simple,â you said, your voice trembling. âIâve just been... overwhelmed.â
Azrielâs lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. âOverwhelmed, huh?â His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that made your heart race. He moved around you with a quiet, deliberate grace, his hand settling on your shoulder with a firm yet almost tender grip. âYou know, running from one fuck to another isnât exactly a solution.â His fingers trailed slowly up your arm, the touch deceptively gentle, but there was no mistaking the intent behind it.
Helion closed the distance with a casual, almost lazy grace, his smile never fading. âAvoiding us wonât make the mess youâve made disappear,â he teased, his voice laced with playful mockery. His hand brushed over your shoulder lightly. âNow that youâre here, though, maybe we can have a bit of fun sorting it out.â
Rhysandâs voice softened as he leaned in, his expression mockingly sympathetic. âSo, (y/n), was it worth it? Playing these games, sneaking around? Did it give you what you needed?â His hand brushed against your jaw, a gentle touch that belied the weight of his words.
âAnswer him, (y/n),â Tarquin chimed in, his voice nonchalant as he flipped through a book without really looking at it. âWeâre all ears.â
You swallowed hard, feeling the heat of their scrutiny. âI... I just didnât know how to handle everything,â you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady. âIt was a mess, and I didnât think it through.â
You met each of their eyes, trying to make them understand despite the teasing edge of their demeanor. âBut you know what?â you added, a spark of defiance igniting in your eyes. âIt takes more than one person to fuck. If youâre going to judge me, take a look at yourselves. Youâre supposed to be his friends, but youâre betraying him just as much as I am. Donât act like Iâm the only one to blame.â
Azrielâs brows rose in amusement, clearly entertained. With his lips trailing the side of your neck, he murmured, âSheâs got a point, doesnât she? Weâve all played our parts in this.â You shivered at the sensation.
Tarquin closed the book with a snap and shelved it, a smirk playing on his lips. âWell, if weâre all to blame, maybe weâve been too harsh,â he drawled, standing beside Rhysand, finally joining you all.
Helionâs fingers began a slow, deliberate trail along your waist, his touch possessive. He let his fingertips graze the fabric of your dress, eyes glinting with dark amusement. âLet us make it up to you?â When you didnât respond, he added, âIâm surprised Cassian let you out in something that makes you look so⌠delicious,â he purred, his voice low and sultry.
You shot him a look. âCass doesnât âletâ me do anything. I do what I please, and heâs secure enough not to care.â
Helionâs smirk widened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. âMisplaced security, then,â he murmured, his tone dripping with mockery and desire.
Azriel watched the exchange with a predatory gleam. He moved his hands to your hips, the touch light but purposeful as he pulled you back into him. âMaybe he should be more worried about how easily you slip away,â he suggested, his voice a dangerous whisper. Tarquin stepped closer, his gaze fixated on you as he reached out to run his fingers along your exposed neckline. A chill ran up your spine.
Without warning, Helionâs hands slid from your waist to your hips, resting on top of Azrielâs, pulling himself closer. He leaned down for a heated kiss, his lips insistent and demanding. As his kiss deepened, Azriel ground himself against your ass, groans of pleasure from both of you filled the relatively quiet study.Â
Tarquin leaned in next, his lips finding your neck. Rhysand, standing on your other side now, placed a hand on your shoulder, letting his lips graze your ear before trailing down to your jawline. Azrielâs hands moved from under Helionâs to your ass, grabbing and squeezing and pinching and spreading. âOh, God,â you gasped breathlessly into the kiss, your voice trembling as you pressed your chest against Helion. âI canât⌠I canât handle this.âÂ
But his kiss only grew more fervent, his tongue exploring yours as he murmured against your lips, âYouâre doing just fine, youâve handled much more.â
With trembling hands, you reached down, your fingers deftly finding their way to the two men at your sides. Your fingers brushed against the smooth, warm fabric, feeling the outlines of their arousal. Tarquin's pants were dark navy, contrasting sharply with the crisp white of his dress shirt, and his belt was a sleek black leather that made the bulge even more pronounced. Rhysand wore a tailored charcoal suit, the fabric fitting him perfectly, showing off his powerful frame.Â
As you palmed them through their pants, you couldnât help but marvel at how incredibly sexy they all looked. Helionâs suit was a rich, deep burgundy, the color enhancing the warmth of his skin and exuding an air of refined elegance. The fabric shimmered subtly under the soft lighting, and the tailored lines of his jacket accentuated his every movement, making him look irresistibly captivating.
Though Azriel was behind you, you knew he wore a classic charcoal-grey suit, the dark color highlighting his powerful build. The suitâs fitted cut accentuated his broad shoulders and slim waist. Calling it elegance, you thought, would not do him justice.
âFuck,â you breathed out, your voice a ragged whisper as you felt the heat and hardness of their cocks through the fabric. âYou all look so⌠fucking hot, itâs driving me crazy.â
Azriel groaned quietly behind you, his grip on your ass tightening as he hissed, âThatâs what we wanted to hear. Keep talking, angel, tell us how much youâre enjoying it.â
Your breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp as the intensity built. âI... I canât,â you moaned against Helionâs lips, your voice trembling. âIt feels so good, itâs too much...â You turned your head to lock your lips with Rhysand, the hand you used to please him now tangling in his hair. âYouâre all so fucking perfect,â you breathed, your words spilling out in a torrent of need.
Tarquin bit down on your neck, making the skin there tingle in pleasure and pain. You gasped, your voice breathless. âI want all of you, I need every bit of this... fucking addicted.â Azriel placed kisses against the back of your neck, and your words became a fervent plea. âPlease donât stop, I need more, I need all of you.â You were overwhelmed, your mind a haze of need and desire. âJust keep going, donât stop... Iâm yours, just take me, use me,â you begged, your voice raw with need.
âWell, this is a scene,â a smug voice cut through the charged atmosphere. The room went silent as every head turned toward the door.
âSeems like youâve all been holding out on me,â Eris drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. His eyes swept over the room with a mixture of amusement and hunger. âDidnât realize you were all getting so⌠wrapped up in each other tonight.â His gaze lingered on you with a dark, knowing smile. âSeems Iâve arrived just in time.â
The tension in the room shifted, grew heavier with Erisâs presence. Your heart was racing, caught between the intense pleasure still pulsing through you and the fresh wave of anxiety his scrutiny brought. The others froze momentarily, their expressions a mix of shock and discomfort.
Helion, having maintained his composure, tilted his head with a nonchalant grin. âEris, what a surprise. Care to join?â
Erisâs grin widened as he stepped further into the room. âIâd be delighted,â he said smoothly, his gaze never leaving you. âIâm disappointed. Iâve made it very clear how much I want you. So tell me,â he murmured, his voice gaining a roguish tone as he continued, âif Cassian wasnât satisfying you, why didnât you come to me first, baby? You know I wouldâve fucked you so much better.â
As he closed the distance, you eyed him with apprehension. Erisâs eyes roamed over you, taking in your flushed skin and the desperate look in your eyes. âIf I canât have the privilege of being the first in this room to fuck you, Iâll just have to be the best, wonât I?âÂ
With that, Eris pushed his way through Rhysand and Helion, his presence commanding and overpowering. His fingers brushed against your lips as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. âAnd trust me,â he said, his voice brimming with a fierce intensity, âI plan to make up for every second of those three years. Think you can take that?â His tone was a blend of seductive confidence and genuine desire.
Before you could respond, Erisâs lips were on yours, his kiss wild and demanding. His hands tangled in your meticulously styled hair, pulling you closer as his tongue explored your mouth with an urgency that matched his frustration. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughtsâhow wrong this felt, knowing Cassian hated Eris with a passion. Theyâd seemed almost friendly at the club, though. Maybe theyâd become friends after that night. Which was worse? But as Eris's lips moved against yours, you couldn't help it. You found yourself clinging to him, craving more.
Rhysandâs hands roamed with deliberate slowness, slipping beneath your dress to explore the bare skin of your thighs. Each caress sparked waves of pleasure that had you gasping. His lips found your neck, tracing heated, lingering kisses that made you moan in response.
Helionâs hands roamed over your front and sides, brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your dress. His lips followed a path from your shoulder down your arm, leaving a trail of kisses that made you whimper with every touch. His touch was both teasing and possessive, a stark contrast to the yearning you felt.
Behind you, Azriel's hips pressed firmly against you, lifting your dress to reveal the lacy, barely-there underwear you wore. His breath was hot and intense against your skin, his kisses on the back of your neck growing more insistent. Tarquin, on your left, knelt down, his lips placing open-mouthed kisses up your smooth leg, his hands gripping your thigh with relentless, demanding pressure.
The room was soon filled with the symphony of your moans, the fervent kisses, and the hands exploring every inch of your body. The line between pleasure and chaos blurred as their combined touches drove you to the brink of madness.
Eris pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with an intense desire and a wicked glint. âThis dress... itâs in my way,â he growled, his voice rough with urgency. âIt needs to go.â
Azriel swiftly undid the zip, and without a second thought, Eris grabbed the hem of your dress and tore it up and over your head, tossing it aside. The cool air of the study hit your exposed skin, making you press closer into Eris's arms, now completely vulnerable.
âGod, fucking look at you,â he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction as his hands roamed over your newly exposed skin. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands moved with renewed fervor over your body, exploring every contour.
Rhysand, Azriel, Helion, and Tarquin took full advantage of the moment, their hands and lips everywhere, driving you to the edge with their combined touches. Your neck, your chest, your arms and legs, your ass; you couldnât keep track of who was where anymore.
The room was filled with the sounds of your breathless moans and their low, appreciative growls and hums. Every nerve in your body was alight with sensation, the heat and intensity of their touches washing over you completely.
Erisâs hands moved to your breasts, which had been freed from your bra at some point, kneading and teasing them while his mouth claimed yours with a wild intensity. His lips traveled down to your neck, and your face flushed with embarrassment as you realized you were left in nothing but your panties and heels. The remaining fabric clung to you, highlighting your vulnerability amid their consuming attention.
âGo ahead and say those pretty words for me again,â he growled against your lips, âlike you were when I came in. Let me hear you, baby.â
âI want it so bad,â you gasped, your voice trembling with need. âI need it, Iâm begging you, please.â
âAzriel, fucking move,â Eris commanded with a low, vicious growl that was unlike anything youâd heard from any of them. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, your back was shoved against a bookshelf behind you, Erisâs hand cradling the back of your head. The sensation of the others being ripped away left you feeling startlingly exposed, emptiness washing over you.
Erisâs eyes pierced into yours, hunger and dominance in his gaze. His hand moved from the back of your head to the front of your neck, his grip surprisingly gentle, almost like a caress. âI want to hear you say it again,â he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. He placed his other hand on your bare waist, squeezing. âTell us how much you want it. Tell us how badly you need to be fucked by all of us.â
Your breaths came out in ragged pants, your body trembling with anticipation and need. âI want it,â you repeated, your voice cracking with desperation. âI need it⌠Please.â
Erisâs lips curved into a dark, satisfied smile as he pressed his body against yours, the heat and hardness of him making you moan. âGood girl,â he murmured, his voice a low rumble.Â
The heat in the room surged as Eris's words hung in the air, his confidence palpable. The intensity of the situation seemed to reach new heights with his arrival. His fingers traced your lips, and you parted them slightly with a quiet exhale. The way he looked at you, with that dark, predatory glint in his eyes, made you feel like a prey caught in the snare of a hunter.
Rhysand and Helion exchanged glances, the challenge in Eris's demeanor stirring a competitive edge among them. It wasnât until now that you realized Azriel still had a hand on your hip, his touch now more possessive, as if he were staking his claim. Tarquinâs eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a smirk as he observed the scene unfolding.
Eris, now firmly in your space, didnât wait for a response. His hands moved with a practiced ease, his grip on your jaw guiding you to face him fully. His eyes were dark, almost hypnotic, as they bore into yours. âTell me,â he said, his voice low and urgent, âwhat do you need right now? Let me hear it.â
His warmth was enveloping, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin. Every touch seemed to heighten your awareness of just how far you'd let things go, and yet, you found yourself unable to pull away.
âI need...â you began, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension. You tried to glance at the men in the room, at Azriel, but Eris gave your head a firm but controlled shake, forcing your attention back to him. âI need all of you⌠All of you, Eris.â
His smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He took your hand, which lay limp at your side, guiding it to his abdomen and laying his hand over yours. You could feel every muscle under his dress shirt. âGood,â he murmured. âIâm glad weâre on the same page.â
He then turned his gaze towards Azriel, his eyes narrowing slightly. âYou heard her,â Eris said, his tone brooking no argument. âTake a break. Sheâs mine now.â
The room seemed to pulse with energy when Eris gently spun you around by that same hand, his presence a commanding force as he instructed you to place your hands against the large oak bookshelf. His hands slid down slowly, along your sides, caressing your hips and waist with a deliberate, almost reverent touch. You felt his lightly calloused fingers grazing your skin, igniting a fire that made you ache with need.
The rest of the group watched with fascination and anticipation, their eyes never leaving you. The room was charged with competition and desire that seemed to fuel the intensity of the moment. As Eris knelt behind you, his touch grew more demanding. His hands roamed possessively, squeezing the curve of your waist, tracing the swell of your hips, and gripping your thighs with a fierce intensity. Every touch ignited a fire within you that made you surrender completely to him. With your hips pushed out and your back arched, you let out a moan that sent a jolt of arousal through the room, leaving the others subtly adjusting themselves as their growing need strained against their clothes.
When he bit down on your ass, the sound pulled from you fell somewhere between desperate and strained. Just when you were on the verge of demanding â not begging for â more, Eris pulled the lace of your underwear aside and teased a finger through your arousal.Â
âLook at how nice and ready they got you for me,â he murmured, more to himself than anything. After lining two fingers up to your entrance, he continued. âThank them for me, baby?â
Though you stumbled over your words trying to steady your breaths, you managed a quiet âthank youâ as he eased his fingers into you with an aching slowness. The groan he let out had you squeezing around them. Eris's fingers moved with a slow, tantalizing rhythm that left no room for haste. Each caress was meticulously timed, creating a sensation that felt intensely intimate yet firmly under his control. His touch was not just about pleasure but also about power, each stroke conveying his dominance.Â
Eris looked around the room, fingers still pumping slowly in and out, his gaze meeting the eyes of his teammates who watched with rapt attention. He smirked, fully aware of the effect this display had on them. With a casual but commanding tone, he addressed them without breaking his rhythm. âSit back and take it in,â he said smoothly, standing back up. âOnce Iâm done with her, you wonât be seeing her like this again.â
You wouldâve glanced around the room to gauge their reactions, curious despite yourself, but Eris didnât give you the chance. His free hand came up to grasp your chin firmly, turning your head to the right to face him. âEyes forward, or on me,â he murmured, voice low and dangerous, his breath ghosting across your lips as his fingers inside you curled just right, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sharpness of the motion had you gasping, pulling your focus solely to him.
Your lips parted to respond, but instead, another moan escaped as his fingers flexed inside you, sending pleasure radiating out from your core. The slow, deliberate pace had you trembling, every nerve drawn tight as you clung to the edge he was carefully holding you on.
"I..." you started, but the words were swallowed by a sharp intake of breath. "Youâ" The sentence dissolved into another gasp as his thumb slid over your clit in a slow circle. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, and you couldn't help the way your hips pushed back against him, seeking more.
Eris's smirk widened, and his grip on your chin shifted, thumb trailing down the column of your throat. "What's that?" he taunted softly. "I didn't quite catch that."
You fought to catch your breath, tried to gather your thoughts, but it was no use.
"You're... taking your time," you managed to murmur, a half-hearted attempt at regaining some ground. But the way your body betrayed you â arching toward his touch, trembling under his fingers â made it clear that he was the one in control.Â
Eris hummed, clearly pleased with himself. "And you love it," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, as if it were a secret meant just for you.
Another moan escaped your lips, but you gritted your teeth, trying to stifle it. You felt the weight of the others' stares on your skin, but they didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the feeling of Eris inside you, stretching you, teasing you. The pleasure was too much, and yet somehow not enough. It was a cruel balance that he had perfected.
Erisâ lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and velvety. âYouâve been waiting for this, havenât you? I can feel how ready you are, how much you want it. But Iâm going to take my time with you, is that okay, baby?â
You couldnât help the small whimper that escaped your lips, the sound more of frustration than anything else. The way he moved inside you was maddeningly slow, calculated, as if he wanted to draw out every bit of pleasure he could. Your body responded eagerly, hips instinctively pushing back against his hand, craving more, needing more.
Helionâs voice drifted in the background, but you were too lost in those smoldering amber eyes to pay it any mind. âCome on, Eris. Give her something to remember.â Chuckles and murmurs of approval echoed around the room.
Eris chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. âPatience, gentlemen. Youâve all had your turn.â His fingers slid out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you feeling unbearably empty.Â
The hand cradling your face moved to trace a path down your back, over your ass, the touch firm and possessive. He didnât rush, didnât give in to the urgency that was building in the room. Instead, he took his time, savoring the feel of your body beneath his hands.
Rhysandâs voice cut through the tension, smooth as silk. âDonât tease her too much. We want her desperate, but letâs not break her just yet, hm?â
Erisâs grin widened, a wicked glint in his eyes as he turned his attention back to your face. âOh, I have no intention of breaking her. Just bending her a little.â His fingers found their way back between your legs, brushing against your swollen, sensitive flesh with just enough pressure to make you gasp. âWeâve got all night, after all.â
You were drowning in sensation, every touch, every word pulling you deeper into a state of raw, aching need. The way they watched you, the way they spoke about you as if you were theirs to play with, only made the heat pooling in you grow stronger.
âI⌠I need it,â you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. âPlease, Eris⌠please.â
Erisâs smirk softened, just a fraction. âLook at you, begging so sweetly,â he murmured, but his eyes held that predatory glint youâd come to recognize. He brushed a thumb over your lower lip and leaned in close, his voice a low, seductive growl. âI want you to show them, baby. Move those pretty hips for meâlet them see how badly you need this.â
He paused, letting his words hang in the air, the command settling in. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unyielding, made it clear this was no requestâit was a demand. âGo on,â he urged, his fingers pressing just a bit more firmly against your aching core. âShow them how much you want it.â
A surge of anticipation coursed through you at his words, the need to satisfy that growing ache overpowering any lingering restraint. You were acutely aware of their gazes on you, the weight of their expectation filling the room. Slowly, you let your hips roll forward, the movement tentative at first, but as Erisâs fingers pressed more firmly against you, a soft moan escaped your lips, urging you to continue. You arched your back slightly, pushing your body back toward him, the desire becoming impossible to ignore.
A low murmur of approval rippled through the room, the men watching you with hunger and admiration. The sensation of Erisâs touch, combined with their heated gazes, sent a thrill through your veins.
âThatâs it,â Eris whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction. âGood girl. Keep going.â
You moved with growing confidence, your hips swaying in a slow, deliberate rhythm, designed to show them just how badly you craved them. The room seemed to grow hotter, every brush of his fingers against you intensifying the ache. You were fully aware of how exposed you were, how much you were giving them exactly what they wanted, and yet you couldnât stop yourself.
Erisâs other hand slid down your back, his touch firm, guiding you to continue. âDo you see this, gentlemen?â he called over his shoulder, his voice thick with pride. âThis is what it means to truly want. To be so consumed by need that youâd do anything to be filled.â
A fresh wave of arousal surged through you at his words. The others murmured in agreement, their voices low and appreciative as they watched you move under Erisâs command. And as you continued to grind against him, the heat between your thighs growing more intense with each passing moment, you realized there was no turning back. You were completely at their mercy, and it felt both terrifying and exhilarating.
Erisâs gaze held yours, unwavering and intense as if he could see every thought, every desire running through your mind. The others seemed to fade into the background, their presence still felt, but distant, as Eris commanded your full attention. He slowly removed his hand from between your thighs, and you bit back a whimper of frustration at the loss of contact. The smirk on his lips told you he knew exactly what he was doing.
âLook at you,â he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent a shiver down your spine. âSo eager, so desperate. Youâd let me do anything to you, wouldnât you?â
The question hung in the air, heavy with the implications of what he was asking. You could feel the weight of his dominance pressing down on you, making it hard to think clearly. Still, you found yourself nodding, unable to tear your gaze away from his.
Erisâs smirk deepened, his hand reaching for the waistband of his pants. âI knew it,â he said, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction. âYou want to be mine, even if itâs just for tonight. You want to feel every inch of me inside you, donât you?â
A tremor ran through you, the anticipation nearly unbearable as he slowly undid his pants, the sound of the zipper loud in the otherwise silent room. âYes,â you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.
He freed his cock from the confines of his pants, stroking himself slowly as he watched your reaction. âTell me,â he demanded, his voice a low growl, âhow you want it. How youâre going to let me fuck you.â
You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you tried to find the words. âI wantâŚâ you began, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desire. âI want you to take me, Eris. To make me yours in every way.â
Erisâs eyes darkened with lust, his hand moving faster as he stroked himself, the sight sending another wave of heat through your body. âGood girl,â he murmured, his voice filled with approval. âIâm going to fuck you so hard that youâll still feel me inside you tomorrow. Youâll be so full of me, you wonât be able to think about anything else.â
The way he claimed you with his words as if you were his possession, only stoked the flames of desire within you. You knew you should be ashamed, embarrassed by how easily you were giving in, but all you could feel was the overwhelming need to be consumed by him.
âAnd when Iâm done,â Eris continued, his voice low and dangerous, âyouâre going to thank me. Youâre going to tell me how much you loved every second of it, how you havenât been able to stop thinking about my cock.â
âGo on and get dressed for me, baby. Weâve got somewhere to be.â
The words cut through the charged atmosphere like a knife, and every head in the room turned toward the doorway. Cassian stood there, hands resting in the pockets of a suit that fit him perfectly. He stood upright, his posture conveying an unsettling calm. His eyes, though steady, held an intensity that made your stomach twist.
You froze, your heart racing as you tried to pull yourself together. Eris, momentarily taken aback, pulled his hand away from you in a swift motion, his expression caught between surprise and frustration. The men around you were already moving, hastily tucking themselves away. You reached for your clothes, discarded a few feet to your side, hands trembling slightly as you dressed under Cassianâs unwavering gaze. He didnât move, didnât hurry you, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. Meanwhile, the others couldnât seem to settle their eyes on one spot, their gazes flickering restlessly around the room.
As you dressed quickly, your mind spun with fear and a dizzying confusion. Cassianâs gaze was a constant weight on your shoulders, and every movement felt slow and surreal. When you finally made your way toward him, he extended his arm, guiding you toward the door with a firm, steady hand. The steady warmth of his arm beneath your hand was the only thing anchoring you against the whirlwind of your mind.Â
You stepped into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you and Cassian descended the stairs. The space felt cold, the walls closing in around you as you moved with a sense of dread. Cassianâs silence was a heavy shroud, his presence almost forbidding. His eyes remained fixed ahead, devoid of any warmth, though his face remained perfectly composed. He gave brief, casual waves and polite nods to those who greeted him, his demeanor impeccably maintained. His silence was almost chilling; the way he pointedly avoided looking at you only heightened your sense of unease.
As you approached the exit, Cassian was stopped by a man who must have been a colleague. They spoke in low tones, most of the words indistinguishable to you through the blood pumping in your ears, but you caught Cassianâs voice cutting through the din with cold clarity. âSeems sheâs had one too many espresso martinis tonight,â he said, his tone smooth and effortlessly charming. âWeâre heading out.â The words seemed to echo in your ears as you walked alongside him, your arm still looped through his. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on your chest as you tried not to stumble.Â
You and Cassian made your way down the sleek marble hallway, the ambient noise of the party fading behind you. The elevator was just a few steps from the penthouse door, and you held tightly to his arm as he guided you. Every movement felt deliberate, his grip firm but impersonal. Waiting for the elevator felt like an eternity, each passing second stretching out and amplifying the anxiety in your stomach.
The elevator ride was a blur of metallic walls and muffled sounds. You stared straight ahead, unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze, each moment stretching into an unbearable silence. When you finally reached the ground floor, the lobby greeted you with its polished elegance. The sound of your footsteps and his seemed to reverberate through the space, each echo amplifying your trepidation. The buildingâs doorman greeted you with a nod, and Cassian responded with a brief, detached smile.Â
As you neared the entrance, Cassian pulled out his phone with his free hand, making a brief call. The minutes dragged on as you stood by the sleek glass doors. Soon after, a black Audi A7 glided up to the curb, its glossy finish gleaming under the streetlights. Cassian had brought out the luxury car tonight, a stark contrast to his usual red F150. The polished finish and the soft purr of the engine seemed to mock you.
Cassian opened the car door for you, his gesture polite and deliberate. You slid into the plush interior, the cool leather seats enveloping you as you settled in. He closed the door behind you with a soft click, then slipped a tip to the valet before making his way around to the driverâs side. With an unreadable expression, he slid behind the wheel, taking his time to adjust himself before pulling away from the curb.
The drive was shrouded in an oppressive silence, the only sounds being the steady hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. Cassianâs profile was set in a rigid line, the stern set of his jaw betraying none of his inner thoughts. You fidgeted with your hands, trying to make sense of the situation, but every attempt to gauge his mood seemed to lead only to deeper confusion.
Your gaze dropped to your hands in your lap. They were trembling. betraying the turmoil churning inside you. The silence in the car felt suffocating, pressing down on you with each passing second. Your mind raced with frantic questions: Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he already know everything? The more you tried to steady yourself, the more the uncertainty gnawed at you.
You tried to focus on the rhythmic thrum of the engine, the soft vibrations through the leather seat. But even the steady hum seemed to amplify your anxiety, making the silence feel even more oppressive. Each street you passed blurred together, a series of indistinct shapes and shadows. Your thoughts spun in a relentless cycle of worry, and you couldnât escape the growing dread that was settling heavily in your chest.
Then a new wave of mortification crashed over you. The image of Cassian opening the door, his eyes taking in the sight of you practically naked against the bookshelf, filled your mind. The sheer embarrassment of being caught in such a compromising positionâthe heels, the underwear pulled aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerableâwas almost too much to bear. You had been so caught up in the moment, so lost in the haze of the night, that you hadn't fully processed how degrading it must have seemed. The thought of him seeing you so utterly exposed, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat, was a sharp, humiliating jolt.
You considered what you might say when the time came. Would apologies be enough? Could explanations make any difference? The questions tumbled through your thoughts, each one more unsettling than the last. Now and then, youâd steal a glance at Cassianâs profile, trying to read somethingâanythingâinto his stoic expression. But he remained a solid, unyielding presence, leaving you to confront your anxieties alone.
You glanced at the passing street signs, noticing they were not leading toward your apartment. Your brow furrowed in concern as you watched the roads change. Cassian made a sharp turn, and you could no longer ignore the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach.
âCassian,â you ventured cautiously, your voice barely cutting through the heavy silence, âwhere are we going?â
He offered no response, his focus straight ahead, his expression inscrutable. The tension in the car grew almost tangible as you fidgeted in your seat, trying to make sense of the unexpected detour.Â
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, each intersection and street sign passing by in a blur. The initial confusion of the detour slowly gave way to a creeping sense of recognition. You noticed that while the roads were leading you further from your apartment, they were somewhat familiar. The familiar landmarks began to settle in your mind, and you felt a growing realization.
As the streetlights flickered past, you finally identified a landmark that confirmed your fears. The realization hit you with a jolt, and you swallowed hard, feeling a lump of anxiety form in your throat.
Cassian pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of the familiar house, its warm lights casting a soft glow on the front lawn. You stared at it, stunned, as he unlocked the doors.Â
âCass, please, we need to talk about this,â you said, your voice cracking as you turned to face him. âI know things look bad, but I can explain!â But why should he let you explain? What would you even say?
He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road ahead, responding with a cold calmness. âThereâs nothing to discuss. Youâre staying with your mom for a bit.â
The impact of his words hit you hard; this was the first time he had spoken since you left the party. âNo, wait,â you pleaded, the tears that had been brimming your eyes finally falling. âPlease, just let me explain. I didnât mean for any of this to happenââ
Cassian cut you off with a firm tone. âIâm not interested in your excuses, (y/n).â
Your hands gripped the seat as you struggled to find the right words. âCass, please, it wasnât what it looked like. I was justââ
âJust what?â he cut in, his voice as cold as ever. âDrunk or not, and it seems like youâre not, the situation was clear. Get out.â
You stared at him in shock, your voice trembling. âPlease, just listen to me! Iâm sorry for everything. I never meant for any of this to happen!â
He gave you a hard look, his face set in stone. âYou made your choices. Do us both a favor and fix your hair before you walk in. Wouldnât want your mom to think her daughterâs a cheap fucking whore.â
The words hit you like a punch, leaving you in stunned silence as he waited for you to get out of the car. You stared at Cassian, your heart aching with each passing second. âCassian, Iâm so sorry. Please believe me, IâŚâ Your voice trailed off. You werenât getting anywhere.
With a resigned sigh, you reached for the handle and slowly opened the car door. Each movement felt heavy with your defeat. As you stepped out onto the pavement, you cast one last glance at him, the weight of the nightâs events settling heavily on your shoulders. Cassian's face remained impassive, his gaze fixed ahead.
You pushed the door shut, and made your way to the front door, the cool night air biting at your exposed skin. The stillness of the quiet neighborhood seemed to press in on you, the pitiful realization of your vulnerability sinking in more with each step.
Standing on the doorstep, you hesitated for a moment, your fingers hovering over the doorbell. The stark contrast between the warm, inviting glow of the house and the cold, dark night around you felt almost surreal. The weight of your earlier actions and Cassianâs harsh words seemed to bear down on you.
Finally, with a resigned breath, you pressed the button on the Ring camera. The chime echoed softly through the night, a jarring reminder of how far you had fallen from the comfort you once took for granted. As you waited, you could only hope that your motherâs response would offer some semblance of solace amid the wreckage of your evening.
⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . âŚ
Taglist <3
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Tender This (21+)
Uncle!Jack Whiskey x Fem!Reader
Summary: You have a bad dream and ask to sleep with your Uncle Jack.
Word Count: 2064
tags: dub-con/non-con somno. thigh grinding. coming in pants. Reader is the aggressor ! nicknames for Reader: baby, angel, niece.
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By the time you opened your eyes, the nightmare was gone from your mind. The foreboding visuals that caused you to feel cornered and terrorized were erased. Unfortunately, though, your body and heart were slower to rid you of the experience. You didnât think twice before hopping out of bed and heading down to your Uncle Jackâs room. You didnât care that all you wore were your cotton pajamas.
You could hear the drone of the TV from the hallway, lights flashing from the crack of his door. Knowing he was still awake was a relief, but it wasnât enough for you to go back to bed by yourself. You rapped your knuckle on his door. He cleared his throat before answering.
âCome in!â he called.
You tip-toed barefoot inside with your shoulders high in your ears. Jack sat up in bed when he saw youâworry evident on his brow. He wore a white t-shirt and thin wire-framed glasses. He grabbed the clicker and turned down the volume on the TV.
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â he asked.
âI had a bad dream,â you pouted.Â
He sat motionless with his mouth openâhis heart nearly beating outside of his chest.
You wrung your hands together. âCan I come sleep with you?â
A few more stunned, heavy breaths before he answered. âIâwell, angelâI meanââ he released awkward chuckles between his stuttering. âI-I donât think youâd have a lot of fun in here with meââ he pointed across at the TV. â--Iâm just watching a-a-a documentary on uh⌠saddles of the old vaqueros from back in the day.â He cleared his throat again and smoothed the thick quilt in his lap.
You glanced to your right at the TV that sat atop his dresser. On screen was an older gentleman in a white sombrero who was smiling and showcasing leather embossing. It took more effort than youâd like to admit to not roll your eyesâbecause of course Uncle Jack would be watching something like that in the middle of the night. You remained undeterred.
âPlease, Uncle Jack?â You attempted the most pathetic look you could muster. âThat dream messed me up. I really donât wanna sleep alone.â
It was almost visceral the way his heart broke for youâbrows all curled into his forehead and his eyes growing big and misty. âO-okay, angel,â he croaked, looking you up and down. âIf itâs that important to ya.â
âMm-hmm,â you nodded and scurried forth. You drew back the quilt, distinctly avoiding the look of nervous dread in his eyes as you climbed into the bed with him. Before he could think to put a pillow between the two of you, you scooted as close as you could and wrapped your arm across his middle.Â
He choked on his breath and placed his hand on your arm. âA-angel, I donât knowââÂ
âPlease, Uncle Jack? It was a really bad dream,â you pleaded with your chin on his chest.Â
Another yank of his tender heartstrings. His glittery eyes bounced between yours as he tried to find the wordsâbut none came out of his pouting lips. He looked away and wiped his mouth with his hand. âO-okay, baby, just uh⌠just for tonight, I guess. Butââ he cleared his throat a third time. â--but letâs try to-to-to watch the program, okay?â He locked his eyes on the TV. He twitched and tensed his jaw and neck. His lips were close enough that you could smell whiskey on his breath. You wondered what he tasted like this late at night.Â
You tugged him closer and pressed as much of your body into his as you couldâfrom your cheek on his chest, to the front of your torso against his side, down to your leg lining up with his. His breathing stuttered, but you ignored it. Instead, you listened to his rapid beating heart. You melted into his strong, steady heat and the scent of his skin. You watched the TV for a while like he asked, and it was actually pretty interesting to see an expert artisan craft a saddle seat out of leather. But really, the most interesting part came when the artisan had to measure and cut the leather pieces for the horn because thatâs when Uncle Jack placed his arm around youâhis large hand finding respite on your shoulder. You instantly released a small whimper and squeezed his middle.
âItâs alright, angel,â he cooedâhis thumb caressing your bare skin. âYouâre safe, now. Just keep on watchin the TV.â
âThank you, Uncle Jack,â you murmuredâdaring to press a quick kiss to his chest before resting your head again.
âO-of course,â he coughed and squirmed, but his hand stayed steady on your shoulder.
You grew weary as the night went on. Your eyes drifting shut. But you could never quite fall back asleepânot with your body this close to your Uncle Jack. Wetness pooled between your legs. Your body burned so badly for him you were aching. You didn't know what to do. You were afraid of scaring him off, but you were patient. You could be patient for a man like Uncle Jack.
Once the credits started rolling, Jack turned off the TV. You felt him shift beneath you, but you refused to budge. âA-angel?,â he whispered. He tapped you lightly on the shoulder. He was trying to wake you up⌠without waking you up. âIâ... shit,â He murmured. He clicked off the lamp on his bedside tableâa soothing darkness blanketing the room. He tried to situate himself a little further down the bed and you did let him moveâbut only a little. You were determined to stay on him. So much so that once he had settled into a comfortable position, you faked a sleepy moan and wrapped your leg on top of his.Â
You could hear him suck air through his teethâbut he didn't push you off or away. In fact, his arm moved from your shoulder down to your waist, rubbing the exposed skin between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your bottoms. It felt like he was igniting you with his fingers, like each one was a matchstick. You wanted more, but you had to be coy about it.Â
âAngel?â He tried again and you refused to respond.Â
You counted your long, slow breaths, counted the heartbeats you felt in your pussy. You needed to give him time. Let him think it was all happenstance. You waited for as long as you could possibly stand. Then, you shifted again, another sleepy groan and stretch until you were half on top of himâyour crotch on his thigh, your leg between his. His hardness poked against you.
âssshit,â he whispered to himself. The hand that was once on your waist found its way to your shoulder. You couldn't see in the dark, but you knew his mouth was open. You knew he was stumbling over what to do. But he didn't push you away like he should haveâlike he would have if he truly didn't want you there.
It made you crave himâburning up and down your skin. It made you hungry to know that he desired youâthat he wanted you so much that it made him all twisted up inside. That you had the power to falter the boundaries of a man so formidable. The roll of your hips was instinctualâyour body so desperate to relieve itself from the ache, but the taste made you voracious.Â
You rolled again and a whimper forced itself from your lips. You tried to muffle it by nuzzling into his chest.Â
Jack didn't move. He still didn't push you away. He was gonna let you do it, wasn't he? Let himself pretend you were doing this all in your sleep.Â
You pressed your swollen clit against his thigh and pushed upward from your knees, curling your toes, and grinding against him. It felt glorious, but you had to take it slow. No matter how much you really wanted to yank his pants down and ride him like the cowboy he was.Â
And every little brush of your leg against his hard cock made him twitch and hiss. Again and again you thrusted yourselfârolling your entire body against his while he held himself back. He was braced and taking it.Â
â---------
Jack felt drunk. Inebriated. Boozed up. Three sheets to the wind. And it was all because of you. Your desire for him made him dizzy. The way you tucked your chin and looked at him with the sweetest, most docile eyes. Your sugary pouting lips. It felt too good to have you so close and snuggling up to him. He loved knowing that he could protect you and that you wanted him to protect you. It comforted him that you sought him for comfort. That you trusted him enough to surrender yourself and all your worries upon his shoulders. How could he ever deny you? How could he ever say no to your tender affection?
He knew it was wrong. It didnât matter that you werenât blood. It was the principle! He knew his feelings for you were unrefined and not very Kingsman-like, but ⌠you had this way of hypnotizing himâcaptivating every nerve and synapse in his whole got-dang body. All it took was one wayward look from you and Hoo! Buddy ! he wanted to ravish you in an open prairie, by a campfire, underneath the shining eye of the moon. He wanted to buck up into you from underneath, let you ride him like a stud bull til he filled your belly full of his seed. He wanted to lathe and lick your breasts with his tongueâsuck hickeys into your thighs in the shape of the letter J. He wanted to stuff your mouth full of his cock so he could make love to your sweet, darling face.
But âŚ
As it has been mentioned beforeâŚ
These feelings were unrefined and not very Kingsman-like.Â
Jack saw himself as a gentleman. And gentlemen uncles do not bed their nieces.
Yet there you were, grinding against him, moaning and murmuring in your sleep. He knew he should wake you up. He knew he should have made you go back to your own bed. He knew he should have done anything other than what he had done, but⌠he didnât.Â
He stayed as still as he could. His body twitching and stuttering every time you brushed his cock. He tried to angle his hips a bit to cause more friction and it worked for a little whileâbut then you started chasing your high. He could feel it deep down in his gut how much your hazy mind hungered for release. He didnât know what you were dreaming about that would cause you to react in such a way. You were twisting your hips around and moaning, arms wrapped around his middle and your face resting flat on his chest.Â
âUncle JackâŚâ you cried and Jackâs fist flew to this mouth to bite back his groan. âPleaseâŚâ you begged as you rode his thigh with deep languid strokes.Â
Jack didnât want to whip his dick out and make a big olâ mess all over the blankets and sheets and you. But he was feeling pretty goddamn desperate for some relief. He did his best to avoid touching youâlest he wake you up, you poor thing. You were so close! And shit, he was, too! So he reached his hand down and gave his cock a gentle squeeze through the fabric of his sleep pants. Something to ease the ache until he could extricate himself from you and disappear into the bathroom for a few shameful moments. One squeeze wasnât enough, though. Especially once you started whimpering and shaking and meeting the end of your delightful, filthy dream. He couldnât wait any longer. Gentlemanly duties be damned! He gave himself a few quick tugs through his pajamas, squeezing the head of his cock in his big, thick hand. He huffed and puffed before grunting hard through gritted teeth, cursing as quietly as he could while come spurted from his cock and smeared into his sleep clothes. âOh, angel.â He thought, feeling the fabric of his pants cling to him. âYouâre gonna be the death of your olâ Uncle Jack.â
After cleaning himself up and changing, he came back to bed and put a pillow between the two of you. Instead of what he wanted to do, which was spoon you, press his cock between your thighs and grind against your slick. But he couldn't. What he had done was shameful enough as it was. He had to stop. He had to put an end to it all. Not that anything had really happened, ...had it?
He took a deep breath and started listing different types of saddles in his head before eventually falling asleep.
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@xdaddysprincessxx -- I thought this might be a fun one for ya. đđđ
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spoilt - yandere alhaitham x reader x yandere kaveh (4.7k)
alhaitham has a lesson to teach.
cw: not sfw, minors dni. yandere, but of the 'softer' variety - reader is happy with their lot as 'pet' of alhaitham and kaveh, this is mostly a smut fic. pet reader. blowjobs, cunnilingus, piv sex, fingering. reader is afab but no gendered pronouns are used.
this was a commissioned work.
It starts with a simple sentence.Â
Alhaitham, over dinner, where you sit prettily and primly and properly at his feet, saying it to Kaveh with a laser focus when the architect tries to lean down to you and feed you a piece of his dessert. Alhaitham doesnât speak off-handedly; he watches you demur the sugary piece of crystallized fruit between Kavehâs fingertips (you think you see a flash of satisfaction in his eyes), and then he says with all of the weight that his words always bear;
âYou spoil them. Itâs not good for them.âÂ
Kaveh had looked at Alhaitham for a moment, and then you. His lip had jutted out, obstinately, as heâd replied to Alhaitham in an almost-injured voice.
âI think they deserve to be spoiled. Just because you donât--â
Alhaitham sighs, and reaches down to gently rest his hand atop of your head.Â
âThe nature of training a pet,â Alhaitham reminds Kaveh, âmeans not always giving in to every whim. I know you are a bleeding heart, Kaveh, but this really is whatâs best for them--â
âWell,â Kaveh shoots back, burning passionate and bright. âWhy donât you ask them what theyâd prefer? If they want to be spoiled? If they want to be taken care of and coddled and adored or if they want what you provide them instead--â
âFine.â Alhaithamâs tone doesnât change; his face hardly so much as twitches. The hand atop of your head moves, to cup your chin and tilt your face towards him so that he can make eye contact with you.Â
Alhaitham is big on eye contact; heâs big on manners and eye contact and earning the things you want. You do not mind so much - at least he is easy to understand. Though occasionally callous, you know where you stand with Alhaitham. His lack of thinking over-emotionally means you understand his decisions, even if you may not agree with them.
(Though youâve become somewhat desensitized to your new life, there are still certain things that gnaw at your soul; a longing for freedom, a desire to see your friends and family again, a hundred things you left unfinished before Alhaitham decided you would be better served if your place was beside him. These are things, though, that the piece of crystallized zaytun peach that Kaveh is trying to tempt you with would not fix. Spoiling you and indulging you will fix nothing, and you prefer to remain obedient to Alhaitham if only to make your existence here easier.)
( . . . And, too, because sometimes seeing the silver-haired scholar with the bright eyes makes your insides churn and your face grow hot and your words come out wrong. You get the same reaction when Kavehâs gaze lingers on you, but heâs so much easier to understand you sometimes manage to keep yourself in check somewhat easier. Somewhat.)
âWhat would you prefer?â Alhaitham asks you, his tone just a touch softer - barely imperceptible, but for a man like Alhaitham . . . You notice all of the little inflections.
âI--â Your voice comes out a little dry, a little high - squeak more than word. You can feel your cheeks heating. âWh-whatever you think is best--â
Kaveh scoffs. Alhaithamâs lips twitch at the corners. His hand slides down your chin to gently tug at the collar you wear; dark green leather (Alhaithamâs choice), that Kaveh had once snuck out in the night and embossed the imprint of Padisarahs upon. Alhaithamâs finger hooks carefully into the O-ring that rests in the hollow of your throat, and he tugs hard enough that you feel a tell-tale twist of want between your thighs and a soft gasp escapes your parted lips.Â
âHow about,â Alhaitham murmurs, and his voice has gotten dark. âWe retire into the bedroom and remind dear Kaveh exactly how our little pet ought to be treated?â
The words in combination with the way his finger is hooked into your collar makes your breath go short; your lashes flutter. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, as you softly respond to him again;
âA-anything you want.â
âGood,â Alhaitham does not praise lightly; so you take this little word and lock it into that part of your heart that remembers everything he says to you, that cherishes the âwell donesâ and the âthatâs rightsâ that he sometimes feels fit to give you. Alhaitham stands, not letting go of his grip on your collar, but at least making sure he rises slow enough that you have time to get shakily to your own feet from your obedient knelt position. âCome on.â He begins to walk slowly and deliberately towards his bedroom - as he does, he turns his head to the side to look at the architect, still looking a little nonplussed by the turn of events.
âWell?â Alhaitham asks. âAre you coming?â
-
Once in the bedroom, Alhaitham bids you get back onto your knees and be patient as you wait for him. You do exactly that, knees sinking into the plush carpeting, and Alhaitham rewards you with a gentle pat on your head as he moves a chair close to the bed.
âSit there,â Alhaitham tells Kaveh, who crosses the room with a hint of unease - despite the bulge in his trousers at what exactly Alhaitham has promised to show him in this room. Alhaithamâs lip curls into a small, secretive smile again. âDonât look so worried, Kaveh. I told you. This is just a demonstration . . . Iâm just going to remind you how to properly handle a pet.â
Kaveh doesnât reply, just takes a single shuddering breath. Alhaitham looks at you with his eyes softer - he always is soft, when it comes to sex. Punishment is not pleasurable for him or you. Your insides buzz with excitement, the space between your thighs growing hot and wet and damp.Â
âTake off your clothes,â Alhaitham says to you, not unkindly. In the house, you wear only your collar, and a thin robe that comes to just above your knees - no use for fine fabrics when you are a pet, and when both of them prefer you out of them. Kaveh has occasionally embroidered patterns around collars and sleeves for you, and you treasure those too - even Alhaitham says nothing about it. You do not bother wearing underwear. The fabric falls from your body, pooling around your knelt figure; you do not even need to stand up to disrobe. âGood pet.â
You fair shine at the praise, your face breaking into a smile, and Kaveh sighs wistfully to look at you.Â
âSee?â Alhaitham says mildly. âYou reap the rewards of my thorough training just as much, donât you?â
âI . . . p-perhaps . . .â
âLook at you,â Alhaitham murmurs, gently cupping the soft fullness of your cheek in his hand as he looks down at you with all of the hunger of a wolf. âYouâre lovely.âÂ
You look at him, pleasure shining on your face, and his lips stay curled into that handsome smile.Â
âYouâre going to show Kaveh exactly how much you like being a pet,â Alhaitham says to you, voice slow and quiet. âWith your mouth. Do you understand? Show me you understand.â
You open your mouth obediently, tongue flat, showing Alhaitham exactly where you would like him to guide his aching cock. And as he reaches for the placket of his trousers, as his deft fingers work the buttons open, you see that his cock is indeed aching - thick, the tip reddened, veins pulsing under the brush of his fingertips.Â
âAre you watching, Kaveh?â Alhaitham asks mildly, as you shift your weight from knee to knee and continue to look at Alhaitham with a mix of trepidation and desire. âSee? You must be firm with them. Keep your mouth open.â
You have not closed it, but at Alhaithamâs command you strain your jaw wider, so that your lips stretch as far apart as you can. Alhaitham makes a soft noise of approval, and then slowly guides his cock into your mouth. For a moment, he lets the heavy weight of it rest upon your tongue; you can feel the taste of him, a little musky but masculine and familiar, flood your senses.Â
âItâs better to start off slowly,â Alhaitham intones - you allow yourself a brief moment of disobedience, just so that your eyes can flitter to Kaveh to see how he is reacting. The architect looks beautiful - his cheeks are pink, his mouth slightly parted, his eyes blown wide as he takes in the scene before him. He looks at once like he wants to argue his point with Alhaitham (you know the two do enjoy verbal sparring), and at once like he does not want to say a single syllable and risk breaking the spell of what is happening before him.Â
Also very visible where Kaveh is sat is how the fabric of his trousers strains at the crotch; his own cock longing to be released from the confines of the fabric.Â
Alhaitham rests a hand atop of your head as he waits for you to follow his instruction - and, as he has bade, you slowly suck on the length of his cock thatâs been slotted into your mouth. You slowly trace the place where head meets shaft, gently tease his frenulum with the very tip of your tongue until he leaks more and more precome into your mouth and he sighs in pleasure, fingers tightening where they rest.Â
âA little faster,â he tells you, and you obediently bob your head along his cock this time - obediently run your tongue quicker through the slit of his cock.Â
Alhaitham is firm and commanding, but he is not cruel - he controls the pace he wants you to work your mouth and your tongue over his cock with the hand upon your head, but he does not do anything so declasse as simply hold you in place and fuck your throat. He believes in firm discipline - and as you are so well-behaved, as you squeak and go warm and nervous when he looks at you and gives you attention - you have no reason, most of the time, to find yourself on the âdisciplineâ side.Â
So you let him guide the way your mouth slides over his cock - let him set the pace of his hips, let him sigh and breathe out through gritted teeth. You feel his cock jump in your mouth as you do it and you use all of the tricks he has ever taught you in order to please him - the flourish of your tongue, the swirl over his head, the brief moment where you get your throat to relax and take him deeper than heâs expecting.
And you win his pleasure. His smile, his eyes soft, his deep groan. You win the feel of his hips losing their composure, the smooth rhythm disrupted with a jolt or two, shaky, until suddenly he is speaking;
âStay still--â
And his cock is twitching in your mouth and your senses are flooded with the salty, musky taste of his release as he shoots ropes of his pearly come against your tongue. Heâs breathing heavy now, waiting for a moment for the aftershocks of his orgasm to recede - but when they do, and he pulls back, he fixes you with that firm but not unpleasant stare.
(Itâs a stare like he can see every thought you have - a stare like he knows you body and soul).Â
âShow me,â Alhaitham commands, and you shyly open your mouth to reveal the milky mess of his come on your tongue. âAnd show him, too.â He gestures towards Kaveh - hot all over, you keep your mouth open as you meet Kavehâs golden eyes, and the architect looks like he wants to devour you whole.
âAlright,â Alhaitham says, after youâve held his release upon your tongue a few beats longer. âYou can swallow it now.â
You gulp, the taste of his come still lingering upon your tastebuds - but that is not important, as Alhaitham takes firm hold of your arms and helps you up, and as he carefully maneuvers you onto the bed. As he positions your ass upon the edge, your back propped up with pillows. He looks at Kaveh as he says;
âNow they deserve a reward; now theyâve done something for it. Now,â and he looks at you and smiles, ânow, you deserve some pleasure of your own.â
Sparks of excitement race up your spine as Alhaitham gracefully gets onto his own knees, this time.Â
Itâs hardly the first time Alhaitham has done this - heâs surprisingly generous with his mouth, though you do indeed only have this happen when you have done something to please him - but you still cannot help the thrill of pleasure that zaps up your spine at the light kiss he gives your sex, before his tongue darts out to tease at your clit.Â
Your fingers clutch at the bedsheets; Alhaitham has not said that you can pull at his hair, so you do not. Alhaitham takes a moment in between kisses to throw some words towards Kaveh;
âSee? A little reward, when earned, is far better than just getting spoilt and learning to expect it. See how grateful they are? How pretty their face looks when I do this?â
He kisses at your clit again, before sliding his tongue down your folds to tease at your entrance. Your hips arch without you even thinking about it, a whimpering noise of embarrassment and pleasure escaping from your throat in a squeak that makes Alhaitham chuckle against your wet sex. The vibrations send more waves of pleasure careening through you, and the noises that keep escaping your mouth come in whimpering little entreaties.
They are nothing compared to the noises that keep coming from between your thighs; the wet sound of Alhaithamâs tongue, dragging through your own slick as you pump more and more of it out and onto his face. The occasional groan of pleasure as Alhaitham drinks you in.
He takes one more break, to rasp;
âAnd itâs not as if one doesnât get anything out of this reward for themselves--â
Before he buries his face back between your thighs, this time with a vengeance.Â
Through every lick and suck and stroke, you can feel that familiar knot of tension low between your thighs begin to tighten and coil. Every stroke of his tongue feels like him pulling at the threads, making the knot more and more complicated - and more and more of a relief when it will finally be pulled, breaking and untangling. You find your hips writhing, more noises falling from your lips.Â
When did you first feel this pounding between your thighs? It pounds in time with your heartbeat, your own need the only thing you can properly think about. You might have been here, at Alhaithamâs mercy, for hours. Time does not feel like a tangible thing, with Alhaithamâs tongue working you over so sweetly.
Youâre close. You can feel it - the way the threads of your arousal are humming, like too-tense strings on an instrument, moments away from snapping. Alhaithamâs tongue has just gotten faster, dancing over your clit, coaxing forth that all-knowing, all-consuming pleasure that will put an end to the desperate humming of your heart--
And he stops.
He ceases.Â
He pulls back, and the only stimulation you get is a warm exhale against your throbbing clit - your strings remain unsnapped, your knot still as tight and inescapable as ever. You sob aloud.Â
âP-please--â You whisper out, your mind hazy - all you can think of is how close that you were to your own orgasm, and how cruelly Alhaitham had snatched away your moment of victory. âAlhaitham--â
âNow,â Alhaitham murmurs to you, again not unkindly, his breath warm against your heated core. âYou know better than that, darling. Be well-behaved, and you get what you want.â
Alhaitham pulls his face out from between your thighs to face Kaveh again. His chin and mouth glimmer with your slick, but on his proud and fine face it looks almost regal.Â
âYou see?â Alhaitham asks Kaveh. âItâs far better if a pet learns to associate their pleasure with their masterâs pleasure, or they might get greedy and entitled.â He looks back at you and smiles at you, but there is a hint of danger glinting in his eye. âNow. Darling. Tell me what it is you want.â
You want to cry out and beat your fists and stamp your feet - you want to come. You want Alhaitham to put his mouth between your thighs again, to feel his tongue hungrily lap against your clit and tease at your entrance and let you shake and shiver and moan as you come on his face.Â
But that is not how a proper pet behaves.
A proper pet knows their pleasure comes with their masterâs pleasure; knows that once he has gotten what he wants, they too will get what they want.Â
âPlease,â you whisper again, through lowered lashes and in a soft, shaking voice that you know appeals to both men. Kaveh lets out a soft, shuddering groan. âPlease. Please fuck me.âÂ
Alhaitham leans in and gives the soft, full flesh of your inner thigh a nip, speaks to you with his voice a low growl.
âSay it more prettily for me, now. Remember your manners.â You take a deep breath, the pounding ache of tension that has not yet been released between your thighs dulling your thoughts and every other sense you have. A tear squeezes itself out of your eye, rolling down the plump fullness of your cheek as your voice breaks in desperation and you ask;Â
âPlease, Alhaitham. Will you please fuck me?â
âGood pet,â Alhaitham praises, and he presses a kiss over the spot he just bit at, before he carefully rises to his knees. Already anticipating what it is thatâs about to happen, you wiggle yourself a little further up the bed to facilitate Alhaitham getting between your thighs and fucking the thoughts out of you - but to your surprise, Alhaitham turns to Kaveh.Â
âDo you see?â He asks. âHow much they like it? How well-behaved they are? Do you agree that my theory has merit?â
Kaveh, his cheeks still pink, his eyes not moving from where you are laid out on the bed like a delicious feast waiting to be devoured.Â
âYes,â he says, his voice quiet and hoarse with wanting. Alhaitham smiles and reaches for the architect, gently patting him on the cheek.Â
âWell, then,â he says. âI think you ought to show me what youâve learned, donât you?â Green eyes flick over to your form, joining the golden gaze. âYou fuck them this time. Of course, Iâll give you a little help - a guiding hand - but . . . Itâs time to put my instruction into practice.âÂ
âI-- yes,â Kaveh practically stumbles over himself to accept the offer, and before you can quite parse whatâs happening Kaveh is shedding his own clothes - linens and cottons and silks, finely patterned and prettily coloured falling to the ground to join your own shed clothes.Â
(Alhaitham, of course, has retained all of his clothes - even with his placket undone, his cock exposed to the air, there is something kingly about him. Self-assured. Confident.)Â
Kavehâs a little clumsy with it all - his cock bobs against his stomach, thinner than Alhaithamâs but longer, pretty as the architect himself. Heâs on the bed before you can breathe, cock smearing pre-come over the soft fullness of your thigh.Â
âPatience,â Alhaitham says, as he takes a seat in the chair that Kaveh has just vacated. âLet them come to you for the kiss.â
Kaveh manages to stop himself from whining, but it seems to take a tremendous effort - he hovers above you, his lips swollen, and you do indeed lean forward to press a kiss upon his mouth. He cannot hold himself back after that; his mouth on yours is devouring. Alhaitham keeps up a calm stream of advice and commentary;
âRemember who is in charge,â he says. âTell them off if they bite; you get to lead the way.â You do not bite at Kavehâs lower lip (you, of course, know who is in charge), but Kaveh takes inspiration from Alhaithamâs advice and his teeth nip teasingly at your own lower lip until you gasp, sighing into his mouth.Â
Alhaitham makes a low hum of approval.Â
âGood,â he says. âNow, remember - your pleasure is paramount. Of course, they may come - but not until after you. A good pet wouldnât want to have their fun until theyâre certain that their master has had his.âÂ
You are a good pet.
You reach between yours and Kavehâs sweat-slicked bodies to find his cock - it pulses and jumps at the touch of your palm, warm upon it. You guide him to the space between your thighs, slick with a mixture of both of your wanting. Kavehâs eyes flutter as you take him slowly inside of you - as your sex envelopes first his head, and then his shaft, inch by aching inch.Â
âYouâre beautiful,â Kaveh says, and he smiles down at you and it feels like the sun is warm and shining upon you.Â
âYou set the pace,â Alhaitham says, and Kaveh presses a kiss to your forehead even as he adjusts his own hips, finding the most comfortable angle. You swallow back whines and moans that bubble up in your throat, easily and happily letting the architect follow the Scribeâs orders as he finds the perfect angle, gets used to the feel of your sex clinging hot and tight and wet around him.Â
He wraps his hands around the softness of your thighs, dragging them to cling to his hips, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh. You let him, because he is in charge - and when he urges you to hold on, to let him fuck into you exactly the way he wants to, you obey.Â
Kavehâs pace is almost frantic - you have no idea how long it has been since Alhaitham began all of this, but he fucks into you like he is a man who has been denied human companionship for years, not hours. His fingers find your hips and cling to them - slide over your chest, tug at your nipples, feel you in every way that a person can feel you. He always looks at you with that same expression; adoration, like he is looking at something beautiful. It does not stop him adjusting you to the perfect angle, the perfect everything - but you feel adored.Â
His cock hits a spot inside of you that makes you sigh, a curve to his length that leans the other way to Alhaithamâs and explores a different (but no less thrilling) part of you. Your earlier tension returns in a pleasant heat, fingers tugging expertly at those strings within you.Â
Alhaitham has gone quieter, now; content to watch you. His breathing in the room is almost as loud as Kavehâs (you chance a glance at him, at one point, and he is rubbing the front of his trousers over his re-buttoned placket, watching the way Kaveh sinks into you. You try to reposition yourself so that he has a better view and he murmurs âgood petâ under his breath. Kaveh is too far gone to notice).
The wet sounds of Kavehâs clock plunging in and out of you echo around the room. The muscles in Kavehâs abdomen jump with every thrust; his chest heaving with the effort. You stare at him as his hips lose their place in the rhythm, as they stutter - your own breath intermingles with his, two lots of panting, two lots of whimpering and whining. They dance together in the air.
Oh, oh, oh.Â
Youâre so close.
So, so close - Kaveh whines, sweat beading on his hairline, his eyes so dark and deep they are like staring into pools of molten gold, and--
He comes inside of you, cock jolting, the angle allowing him to fill you so deeply you can barely breathe with rope after rope of his release. You whine as his cock spasms and jerks, and he grinds his hips into you in search of eking out every drop of sensation, but it is not quite enough. You do not come, and Kaveh is pulling out.
Alhaitham is suddenly by the bed.Â
âNow whoâs the one not spoiling them?â Alhaitham asks, with one raised eyebrow. âThe poor thing didnât even get to come.â
âI didnât--â
Alhaitham reaches between you both, his clever fingers immediately finding the space between your thighs, still swollen and slick. Kaveh, not to be outdone (and only now realising that your release did not come in twain with his own), slides two of his fingers inside the space his cock just vacated, uncaring that all he is doing as he begins to fuck you on those two slender fingers is fucking his come right back inside of you.Â
âMaking promises you do not fulfill is bad form for a pet owner,â Alhaitham says, his eyes moving from Kaveh to you. âThey remember, you see. It is only right to tell them the truth, in order to foster trust--â
Alhaithamâs thumb is rubbing over your clit with a slow but firm pressure, much like the man himself. Those two denied orgasms come rushing back up, filling you with a crackling, building pressure.Â
You sob as you feel it threatening to overwhelm, only just managing to fit yourself into any kind of human language.
Still. You are a good pet, and a good pet would never forget their manners.
âThank you, thank you, thank you--â
Youâre babbling; you canât concentrate, not with Kavehâs slender fingers inside of you and Alhaithamâs thumb rubbing slow inexorable circles over your clit, not with your body screaming out for release - and all at once, that great dam inside of you seems to break and waves rush over you like the ocean and the shore. You fair sob with the over-stimulation of it all, as your body seems to break into glittering shards and then fit itself back together again in time with your panting heartbeat.Â
âGood,â Alhaitham is murmuring against one ear. âThatâs right. Thereâs a good pet.â
âYouâre so beautiful,â Kaveh, his voice still half slurred with his own orgasm, is whispering into your other. âOh, youâre so beautiful when you come--â
They guide you through it, with those stroking fingers and gentle words and soft touches. Itâs one of the softest times you ever see Alhaitham; when you turn to look at him with a needy look in your eye (asking for his approval the way a dog seeks praise from its master), he smiles and leans forward to press a kiss upon your sweat-soaked forehead.Â
âI think you can sleep in the bed with me tonight, hmm?â He asks. You have a bed - a comfortable enough one, at the foot of Alhaithamâs own, though yours is rather lower to the ground and more befitting a pet than a human being. You have long since stopped thinking of these things. Your life is your life, and Alhaitham and Kaveh are not cruel masters - if nothing else, the pleasure still singing in your bones proves that.Â
Your lip wobbles, though. You reach for Kaveh, your fingers finding his arm.
âI want to sleep with both of you,â you say, your voice a little petulant. Itâs true; they are both your masters, are they not? You see no reason to have to choose between the two of them. Kaveh laughs softly, and Alhaitham heaves a sigh.Â
Even through the sigh, you can see there is a fond smile on his face.Â
âDonât go getting too much of a brat, now,â Alhaitham chides you, but then he turns his gaze on Kaveh and his lips twitch at the corners again. âAlright; what say you, Kaveh? Will you come and sleep on their other side?â
Kaveh smiles back.
âAh, Iâm not sure,â he replies. âI fear that would fall in the realm of spoiling our dear little pet--â
âPerhaps,â Alhaitham says mildly, âand just perhaps, mind you - perhaps a little spoiling, now and then, might be good for them.â
When you drift off to sleep that night, both of your masters sandwiching you between them, you cannot help but feel the luckiest and the most spoilt pet in the whole of Teyvat.Â
#writing#not sfw text#commissioned work#yandere alhaitham#yandere kaveh#yandere genshin impact#dub con for ts
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the salver & the sword
paring: Suguru Geto x reader summary: Prince Satoru Gojo sends his trusted general, and friend, across the kingdom to retrieve the girl who saved him when he was a boy. You loathe the idea of having your life uprooted on the whim of some faraway prince, and General Suguru Geto is determined to see through his prince's command, by whatever means. word count: 2.8k+ warnings: AFAB reader, the threat of marriage, mostly just the beginning seeds of slow burn! author's note: This has been thrumming inside of my head since I finished jjk. Thank you for much @thenameswinter99 for reading this over and allowing me to ramble on and on about this au. đ
Chapter IÂ ~ The Beginning
âMy lady, you have been chosen. You have been summoned by the crowned prince, Satoru Gojo.â
You blinked and looked up from where you were kneeling, your brow furrowing at the fairytale being spoken. The news of the broken engagement between the crowned prince and Princess Iori Utahime was something that seared throughout the kingdom, spreading to the outer borders to where even your village was tittering away with their speculation on what had happened.Â
What followed was the royal decree from the queen, stating her only son must find a wife. It was also said she was furious of the spectacle he made it to beâbut again, these were just the rumors shared amongst the commonfolk.Â
It was not anything you bothered to dwell on, but that was before your garden was shadowed by the two men now standing before you.Â
You focused on the one who was closer and he shifted under your scrutiny, an almost orchestra of the Queensguard armor that he wore, polished and glinting in the sunlight. He held onto his helmet, sweat beading at his hairline and his cheeks rosy. His eyes were wide and he looked towards the other man who accompanied him, waiting. Â
The other man watching you was the renowned General Suguru Geto, friend of the crowned prince and his personal guard. He was as captivating as the stories; tall and lithe, unadorned by armor but wearing the queenâs sigil embossed on a leather cuirass across his broad chest, over his tunic. His black hair fell past his shoulders, some falling in his eyes that burned through you.Â
Any other woman would have an array of emotions to pull for such a moment as this: perhaps an initial coy surprise followed by acceptance, the fantasy of becoming a princess staining their cheeks as their practiced bashfulness surfaced.Â
Instead, you frowned. âWhy,â you asked them, your tone flat.Â
âWhy?â The first man echoed but an octave higher. His eyes darted back to the general, bright with his disbelief at your question.
You also looked back to the general and saw the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. You held your gaze, contemplating him. You were almost certain it had to be the general, seeing the two distinct features always mentioned with his lore.Â
The first was the broadsword that was strapped to his backside, its gleaming handle peering over his shoulder. A stone was embedded into the pommel, and its ever-changing iridescent coloring was said to be an enchantment, a sentience to this weapon. It was legend craftedâthe tale of a sword capable of cutting through anyone or anything, as long as it was wielded by someone deemed worthy.Â
And Geto was said to be just that: worthy.Â
It was the sword you first recalled, followed by his eyes that bore through you, heating your blood beneath; the murmured moniker of the purple-eyed demon, as given by his enemies.Â
The very same who now was smirking at your skepticism.Â
You chose to break the silence. âYes,â you pressed your palms into the soft earth, pushing yourself to stand and face them both, âI am aware, as anyone, of the mess that followed a very publicâŚâ you took a moment to settle on a word, â...dissolvement between the prince and the princess. But what I fail to understand is why he would then decide to marry me?âÂ
Geto continued to watch you with a quiet contemplation while the other man was quick to answer you, beaming. âThe prince said that you saved his life!âÂ
Your kindness was your curse; you closed your eyes with an inward groan. âBut that was a lifetime ago,â you argued.Â
In fact it had happened almost eighteen years prior. This had been when you and your father lived more centrally to the capital, in a humble cottage by the river winding throughout the city. You had been outside when you heard someone fall in, his wail and frantic splash had you rushing to pull him from the water.Â
You remembered the matted mess of his white hair, the celestial blue of his eyes that was a known trait in the royal familyâPrince Satoru Gojo. He shivered through his wet clothes, confessing to running away, with his plea pitiful: please donât tell my mother.Â
This memory evaporated and instead, you said: âWho would even remember that?âÂ
âPrince Satoru does!â He was still grinning.
You refrained from rolling your eyes. âBut what if I do not wish to go and marry Prince Satoru?âÂ
He looked incredulous, wilting back towards Geto, desperate for any guidance on how to handle this woman he clearly thought mad. The general remained quiet.
The knight looked back to you, past you, and nodded his head towards your home, a different decorum this time. âHe said he only wished to reward the woman who saved him,â his words tactfully chosen, âand that he wished to liberate you from your life of poverty.âÂ
You recoiled, fury alight in your eyes. The poverty he was referring to was the bit of land that had been left by your father. It had been purchased with the reward given when the queen came to retrieve her son; it was enough to start anew, to find a home that was not so haunted.Â
It was why you returned to the north, closer to the border of the Ryomen Kingdom, with enough leftover to build your home.Â
It was here that your father rebuilt his reputation as an esteemed salver. He spent his days helping any ailment, and his evenings spent notating his accumulated knowledge of remedies in a leather bound book embossed: Atsumeru.
You shadowed him and he was happy to show you everything he knew, proud of your keen eye that could decipher the differences in herbs. He bought you a mortar and pestle, a smoky agate, teaching you healing concoctions that he used. He taught you to read, to write, and he brought you along to every house call, praising your aptitude to help instill your own repute.Â
But despite all this, there was still a hesitation after your father passed away, a rough transition when you stepped into the void he left behind. Â
You had your maternal determinations seeded in your bones, and it allowed you to recarve your niche back within the village. They, inevitably, learned to show you the same respect reserved for your father.Â
It was not a rich life, not anything you could expect someone of a higher social status could comprehend, but you found comfort with its simplicity, a satisfaction when you were able to help those in need. There was a warmth that coiled in your chest as you continued the work your father devoted himself to; he felt alive whenever your cursive writing knitted into his detailed notes, forever bonded.Â
Your father gifted your independence and you would be damned before you allowed yourselfÂ
to be ripped away because some prince almost drowned.Â
And this is exactly what you said to them.Â
The knight was pained with your declaration. âMy lady,â he licked his lips, nervous, âI am afraid that I have been commanded to bring you back with meâŚâÂ
Your boldness would not hear him. âYou may inform your prince that I am pleased he never fell victim to another body of water.â You were already in motion, scooping up the half-filled wicker basket to balance on your hips, honeysuckle and lavender curling in the autumn air. âAnd you tell him that I am declining his offer, that I am choosing to remain in my poverty.âÂ
You meant to storm back into your home, to shut and bar the door, but you forgot about the general until he reached to catch your elbow. Your fury brimmed as you turned to face him and his amethyst eyes glowed.Â
âMy lady,â his voice was soft, low, but resolute, âI apologize, but I will see my princeâs command to the very end, even if this means I must throw you over my shoulder and carry you back.âÂ
You hated the heat that licked your stomach with his threat, something that spawned from his strong but careful touch. You forced yourself to glare back at him. âIâŚâ but whatever venom that was poised on your tongue stopped.Â
One of them heavily armed was an issue, but facing both was impossible. And even if you somehow succeeded, where could you even run to? Your entire life was ingrained into the very earth you were standing on, and they had been commanded to uproot you, to return you back to Prince Satoru as if you were a prize and not a person.Â
What choice did you truly have?
Your shoulders slumped and you swallowed thickly. âWould he force me?â You wished your voice did not sound so small.Â
His face softened with your words, a dawning revelation that relaxed his hold on you. âMy lady, the prince is a proud man, but I swear he would never force himself on anyone. He only wishes for an answer.â Geto paused, a grimace flickering across his sharp features. âBut in person.âÂ
You sighed, pulling at his fingers until his hand dropped back to his side. âVery well, I will come with you but only so I may tell Prince Gojo that I have no intention of marrying him. However,â you looked back over your garden, the molds you placed in the shade of the banyan trees, your hard work half done, âI request that I at least sell my stock at the charter market. It is my only source of income and it is how I am able to stock up to prepare for winter illnesses.âÂ
They both stared at you. Geto and his curiosity that knitted his brows together, his careful consideration to what you just shared, while the knight looked as confused as ever; he opened his mouth first. âWinter illnessesâŚ?â Â
You grit your teeth, caging you irritation, and explained, âI am a healer in this region. I help those who need it.â You paused, a smirk. âLike your prince, for example.âÂ
âYou cannot expect to make him waitââÂ
âYou and the general are welcomed to help me, if you wish to leave sooner. But you know the market visits each region annually and I will not abandon my stock to traipse across the kingdom on a foolâs errand.â
He imploded. âHe is a decorated general of the Queensguard! How can you expectâ!âÂ
âHaibara,â Geto cut through, not by raising his voice but still commanding nonetheless; Haibara straightened his spine. The general looked you over, deciding to test your resolve. âAnd if we choose to see through what I just said?âÂ
You blinked. His tone was teasing you, his amusement returning with an upwards tick of his lips. âIf you decide to drag me away,â you faced him, daring him, âI vow that I will not make the journey easy, by any means necessary.âÂ
Geto chuckled, unbothered. âVery well then. Haibara,â his focus returned to the knight while yours fell rapt to watch as the general began to unbuckle his harness to set his blade aside; his long and slender fingers were quick to unlace his chest piece, lifting it over his head before he began to roll up his sleeves, âyou will return and tell Satoru that we found her and I will be bringing her back myself.â Â
Haibara was flustered pink. âBut what will youâŚ?âÂ
âI will remain at her side, helping with the harvest or the market or whatever chores are needed to be done in order for her to willingly come with me.âÂ
He was incredulous. âYou are truly going to help her?âÂ
You were equally surprised, still watching as Geto knotted his dark hair at the base of his neck, pulling it away from his face. âThis is what I just said,â he looked back at you and you swore his eyes glittered. âIf this is the only way I can see through to what my prince commandedââ
âOtherwise, I will be kicking and biting the whole way.â You could not stop your tongue.Â
Geto grinned. âThen what choice do I have?âÂ
+ + + +
It was a myth: a sword said to be forged by the immortals, an impenetrable steel that could cut down the gods themselves. It could not be controlled, but you could hope to be worthy to wield the blade. Over time many tried, many undeserving souls that were cursed by its touch before it would disappear again, waiting, waiting.Â
At the time Suguru Geto was a young man unknown, with only his loyalty to the crown and to his friend, Prince Satoru Gojo. He was a strong and fearsome fighter, with piercing amethyst eyes always watching, which was how he spotted the pommel and its chromatic glint of purples and blues.Â
At the time war was rampant with the neighboring kingdom. Its new, brash king, Sukuna of the Ryomen Kingdom, rallied to expand past the borders that had been respected the last century, guided by his bloodlust and his greed.
It was said that Geto claimed the sword and the purple-eyed demon became legend embodied, worthy to wield this great power and halt the invasion.Â
And now, this same sword and its iridescent stone was glittering in the sunlight.
You were quick to realize several things about the notorious General Suguru Geto. The first was the palpable respect he commanded. It was not bold, but his veritable demeanor that thrummed deep within, his careful composure with every action that had you enthralled.Â
You saw it with how the knight Haibara did leave as he was told. His hesitation was set aside and he climbed aback one of the horses they rode it on. He left just as the general instructed.Â
You watched as the horse climbed back up the slope that led down to your home, leaving you alone with the general. âSo then, where should I begin?â Geto asked.Â
The second was how you learned the genuineness behind every question, that the general was not a man for idle conversation. At first, you were almost uneasy with how his eyes settled onto you, the amethyst that shone bright as he listened to you explain the method to the chaos that surrounded you both.Â
It was his sincerity with his question that followed that made you smile. âBut what is it called?âÂ
Bars of soap was an endeavor your father poured himself into. He believed that hygiene was a vital aspect for maintaining good health and overall well-being. You remembered watching as he carved the molds into the thick, wooden planks, the outside decorated with jars and pots to collect the rainwater, the constant smolder of hardwood to collect its ashes.Â
He allowed you to choose the scents, honeysuckle and rosemary and lavender planted in the garden outside. He showed you how to spud the cassia bark, claiming the pungent sweet and spicy favorite to add.Â
You smiled from these. âIt is cheap to make them,â you finished, gesturing around, âbut it can also tedious.âÂ
The banyan leaves had been cut and were soaking, which would have them more malleable to allow you to wrap the bars individually and tie them with twine. Sprigs of its scent were slipped under the knot to decipher the smells easier. You showed this to the general and your curious eyes watched his slender fingers recreated, wrapping and knotting the string, tucking a lavender stem with care.
You burned with the intrusive thought of how many lives were taken by these same hands.Â
But as the day waned away, you could admit that you found his company endearing. You enjoyed his soft cadence of questions, asking in detail about your life. In return, you pittered and pulled at his practiced stoicism, a sense of satisfaction to be rewarded with his small smile instead of another damn smirk.Â
âWhere is the charter market held in this region?âÂ
It was less than half a dayâs walk on foot, but that had been before, considering the wicker basket you filled to the brim and carried. His brow raised. âBy yourself?âÂ
You scoffed. âI am stronger than I look.âÂ
âI believe that.âÂ
You burned, quick to look away from the teasing curl of his mouth, and you mentioned the old buggy you had despite no longer having a horse for it. Geto offered his own and helped you load multiple wicker baskets, preparing to leave first thing the next morning.
The supper prepared was modest but savory, with a quieter tension settling over, the thought as to where you would have the general sleep. He suggested first that he would post to watch over the cart and stock. Â
âOutside?â You could not help but ask.Â
Another smirk. âI am stronger than I look.âÂ
And as you laid in bed, processing your day, your mind eventually wandered back to the general outside and his perpetual smirk, to the purple that shone bright in his eyes.Â
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