#i love it too!! it can be expensive but it's so so worth it and I use those skills all the time!

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | taking away their food - tiktok trend

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (comment if you'd like to see other drivers or feel free to drop into my inbox!) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested) : taking away their meal while they are still eating to see their reaction...

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 3490

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : when i tell you i love these tiktok trend requests, i love them...! <3

ʚ・max verstappen

you and max were on vacation at a beautiful beachside resort. unlike max, who preferred to stay offline, you were chronically online and had seen the recent trend of taking away people’s food while they were eating. what better way to have some fun than to try it on your husband?

max had a relatively short temper, but he was always patient with you. that’s why you couldn’t wait to see his reaction when his food was suddenly taken away…especially in an expensive restaurant.

after placing your orders, you excuse yourself. “i’ll be right back, babe, just have to use the restroom.”

instead, you hurry over to your waiter, who isn’t too busy at the moment. slipping her a generous tip, you ask, “while he’s eating, can you take away his food?”

she laughs, immediately catching on. “i’ve seen the trend! i’d love to do it—especially to max.”

trying to contain your excitement, you make your way back to the table, casually setting up your phone to record. the food arrives, and you both dig in.

as you eat, you casually chat about the upcoming f1 season. “are you excited?” you ask between bites.

“yeah, but testing is gonna be interesting. new regulations could change a lot,” max replies, focused on his food.

then, right in the middle of a bite, the waiter swoops in and takes his plate away.

max freezes. you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“what the hell?” you say, feigning confusion.

max blinks before his expression shifts. “yeah, what the hell? i want to speak to their manager. what are they, fucking idiots?” his voice rises, his irritation clear.

that’s it—you can’t hold it in anymore. not wanting the staff to get in trouble, you call the waiter back, who quickly returns with his dish. “my apologies,” she says, trying to keep a straight face.

before max can get another word out, you burst into laughter. “it was just a prank, my love. an extremely funny one at that.”

max sighs, shaking his head. “you know i was hungry…”

you roll your eyes. “we had a snack before coming here. don’t lie.”

he huffs, but you can see the corner of his mouth twitching. “you’re lucky you’re my wife and not another driver.”

you grin. totally worth it.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

“are you excited to see the family again?” you ask lewis as you adjust your dress, glancing at him through the mirror.

lewis nods, holding out his tie. “always excited,” he says, smiling as you step closer to help him fix it.

you both make your way to the family dinner, where you're greeted warmly. everyone loves lewis so much that they always prepare a vegan-friendly meal just for him—without making a fuss about it.

at the gathering, you and lewis naturally drift apart. he’s with your father and uncles, deep in a discussion about sports, while you join the women in the kitchen, chatting and catching up.

your cousin pulls you aside, giggling. “have you seen that tiktok trend where you take their food mid-meal just to see their reaction?”

you smirk, already plotting. “oh, i have an idea.”

once everyone is seated and eating, conversation flows easily. then, mid-meal, you casually get up, walk over to lewis—who’s completely engrossed in a conversation with your uncle—and, without a word, take his plate away.

you turn on your heel and walk straight to the kitchen, leaving him staring after you, utterly speechless. the entire table falls silent. the women bite their lips, trying not to laugh, while the men exchange confused glances.

lewis clears his throat, placing his napkin down. “if you all will pardon me for just a second.”

he follows you into the kitchen, where he finds you at the sink, rinsing a plate. his brows furrow, but there’s amusement in his voice. “love… what are you doing?”

you don’t turn around just yet, keeping up the act. “what do you mean? i thought you were done.”

lewis tilts his head, his expression both concerned and affectionate. “darling, i’d barely even touched my food.”

you finally turn to face him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “i know,” you admit, pulling his plate out of the microwave with a grin. “i just wanted to see your reaction.”

lewis exhales a deep sigh, crossing his arms. “and what exactly did you think was going to happen? that i’d sit there, starving, while you pranced around with my dinner?”

you shrug innocently. “honestly, i thought you’d be more dramatic. maybe throw a little fit, demand justice, give a speech about how a man’s meal should never be taken from him.”

lewis raises a brow, lips twitching with amusement. “oh, so you expected a whole performance?”

you nod. “at the very least, i thought you’d stand up on your chair and make a passionate plea for your food’s return.”

lewis chuckles, shaking his head as he steps closer. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

you hand him back his plate with a cheeky smile. “and yet, you married me.”

he takes it, setting it down on the counter before pulling you into his arms. “mm, don’t remind me. i think i should’ve put ‘no pranks’ in the vows.”

you gasp in mock offense. “excuse me? that would’ve been a dealbreaker.”

lewis laughs, resting his forehead against yours. “then i guess i really am stuck with you.”

you grin. “lucky you.”

he shakes his head, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before picking up his plate. “lucky me, indeed. now, if you’ll excuse me, i’d like to actually eat my food before you come up with another ridiculous idea.”

you smirk, watching as he walks back to the table. “no promises.”

ʚ・george russell

george loves your home-cooked meals. after a long day of racing and testing, he always comes home with an empty stomach, ready to devour whatever you’ve made.

and lucky for him, despite spending most of your day rotting in bed on tiktok, you still managed to cook one of his favorite meals. so, when he walks through the door, you greet him with a warm smile, already setting the table.

“smells amazing,” he sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead before heading off to freshen up.

once he’s cleaned up and comfortable, you both sit down and start eating. conversation flows easily as he tells you about his day—mostly car talk that you only half understand but love listening to anyway.

then, mid-meal, right when george is in the middle of a big bite, you casually grab his plate and stand up.

“i’ll just be right back,” you say nonchalantly, walking toward the kitchen.

george freezes, fork in midair, watching you disappear with his food. at first, he just blinks, processing what just happened. then, he calls after you.

“love?”

you stay silent, waiting.

another second passes.

“babe?” his voice is a little more confused this time.

still nothing from you.

now you hear his chair scrape against the floor as he gets up, followed by hurried footsteps coming toward the kitchen. you grab a spoon and take a big, dramatic bite of his food just as he walks in.

he stops in the doorway, hands on his hips, staring at you like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal.

“love,” he says, slow and measured, “what are you doing?”

you make a big show of chewing, eyes closing as you hum in satisfaction. “mm. wow. this is really good.”

george blinks, looking between you and his stolen plate. “yeah, i know. that’s why i was eating it.”

you sigh, shaking your head. “honestly, i don’t think you appreciated it enough. i just had to double-check how good it was.”

he folds his arms. “by eating my dinner?”

you nod, taking another bite just to test his patience.

george lets out a long, dramatic sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “after everything i’ve done today—hours of training, media, testing—this is how you treat me?”

you smirk. “think of it as a lesson in patience.”

“oh, i’m very patient,” he argues, stepping closer, eyes narrowing. “but i will be getting my food back.”

before you can react, he lunges for the plate. you try to dodge, but george is quicker. he snatches it back, holding it above his head like a trophy.

“ha!” he exclaims victoriously.

you pout. “that was rude.”

george smirks, taking an exaggerated bite right in front of you. “oh wow. this is really good.”

you gasp. “now you’re just mocking me.”

he winks. “just had to double-check how good it was.”

you groan, swatting at him as he laughs and walks triumphantly back to the table, plate in hand.

“love you,” he calls over his shoulder.

you huff, crossing your arms. “yeah, yeah. enjoy your stolen dinner.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos thought of you as a saint—you could do no wrong in his eyes. and honestly, you could probably count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten mad at you… actually, scratch that. it’s zero.

this man loved, and he loved hard.

one of your favorite things to do together was cooking, but nothing beat grilling outside when the weather was hot. it became a little tradition—firing up the grill, making burgers, and just talking about the most random things.

today’s topic? trying to convince carlos to leave formula one so he could stay home with you every day.

“mi amor, that sounds like a great idea, but…” he gestures dramatically toward your beautiful backyard, “we would not have a home if i did that.”

you sigh dramatically. “we could live a simple life. maybe raise some chickens, grow our own vegetables…”

carlos gives you an amused look as he flips a burger. “you scream when a bug lands on you. you think you’re ready for farm life?”

“fair point.” you nod solemnly, making him laugh.

once the burgers are ready, you both sit outside on the deck, enjoying your food and the warm evening air. conversation flows as usual—lighthearted, full of teasing and laughter.

then, mid-bite, right when carlos is at peak burger enjoyment, you casually reach over and take the burger straight from his hands. not the plate. just the burger.

you don’t even wait for his reaction before standing up and walking into the house, taking a big bite as you go.

carlos blinks, completely caught off guard.

“amor?” his voice is laced with confusion and betrayal.

you don’t answer. you just keep walking.

then he snaps out of it.

“amor!” he calls louder, pushing his chair back as he stands. “come back here!”

you hear his footsteps on the deck as you disappear into the house, stuffing another bite into your mouth just as he reaches the doorway.

“oh, you’re in trouble now.”

you sprint toward the kitchen, but carlos is faster. within seconds, he wraps his arms around you from behind, tackling you onto the couch as you let out a squeal.

“no! carlos! it’s mine now!” you laugh, trying to take another bite, but he pins your arms, shaking his head.

“i trusted you,” he says dramatically, his face hovering inches from yours.

“and you love me,” you counter, mouth half full.

he sighs, looking at the last pathetic remains of his burger in your hand. “that was my best one yet…”

you pat his cheek, swallowing. “it was amazing, really.”

carlos groans before flopping off of you, lying on his back on the couch with a pout. “now what am i supposed to eat?”

you sit up, stretching. “i guess i could make you another one.”

he side-eyes you. “you guess?”

you grin. “fine, fine. i will make you another one.”

carlos huffs but follows you back to the kitchen, watching as you start grilling again. after a moment, he walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles.

you smirk. “i know.”

carlos laughs, kissing your cheek before finally getting his fresh, non-stolen burger.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles leclerc is the definition of polite. he treats everyone with kindness, never raises his voice unnecessarily, and avoids causing a scene at all costs.

so he definitely wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen to his dinner—at his favorite restaurant, no less.

before walking to your table, you quietly slipped the waiter a generous tip and explained your plan. the waiter grinned, fully on board, and assured you they’d pull it off perfectly.

by the time you sat down across from charles, you had to bite back a smile.

as you waited for the food to arrive, conversation flowed easily. you leaned in slightly. “do you think i should start traveling with you during the season?”

charles’ eyes lit up. “of course,” he said immediately. “i would love that. and we could bring leo too—he’d love it.”

you laughed. “leo on a private jet, living the life.”

charles nodded. “exactly. he’s already spoiled, but this would make him impossible to deal with.”

the food finally arrived, and as always, charles looked delighted as he took his first bite. you chatted here and there, but you were mostly just waiting for the moment.

then, just as charles lifted another forkful of food and put it into his mouth, the waiter swooped in and—without hesitation—took his plate away.

charles froze mid-chew, blinking in confusion.

you clenched your jaw to keep from laughing as his brows furrowed, his eyes following his plate as it disappeared.

“amore,” he exhaled, swallowing his bite as he turned to you. “what the hell just happened?”

you shrugged, pretending to be just as confused. “i have no idea.”

charles sighed, rubbing his forehead before muttering something in french. you caught bits of it—something about karma for not finishing his meal last time.

still holding back your laughter, you watched as he looked toward the waiter, debating whether or not to say something. charles wasn’t one to cause a scene, but this? this was testing his patience.

“excuse me?” he finally called out, voice still polite but definitely stressed.

you couldn’t hold it in any longer. letting out a laugh, you waved the waiter back over, who immediately returned with his plate.

charles looked between you and the waiter, realization dawning. “no…”

you grinned. “oui.”

the waiter set his plate down. “désolé, monsieur leclerc, but it was a request.”

charles turned to you, eyes narrowing. “baby…”

you beamed. “it’s just a prank!”

he stared at you for a moment before shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. “you…” he pointed his fork at you, squinting. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you leaned forward on your elbows. “i know.”

still mumbling in french about betrayal, charles picked up his fork again and resumed eating while you giggled, already thinking about what prank to pull next.

ʚ・lando norris

lando loves eating out with you—especially at small, lowkey urban spots where no one bothers him and the food is always good.

tonight was no different. after placing your order, you both slid into a booth, and lando immediately started rambling about something completely random.

“so i was thinking,” he said, gesturing animatedly, “if we ever get, like, really lost somewhere—like, no signal, no gps—do you think i’d be able to navigate us out just by looking at the stars?”

you snorted. “lando, you can’t even navigate a grocery store.”

“that’s different,” he argued. “they put all the good stuff at the back on purpose. it’s a scam.”

before you could argue further, your food arrived—a fresh, steaming-hot pizza.

“finally,” lando sighed happily, grabbing a slice immediately.

you both started eating, chatting between bites, until suddenly, just as lando reached for another slice, the cashier you tipped earlier casually walked over, picked up the entire pizza, and walked away.

lando froze, mouth slightly open, staring at the now-empty table.

“hey, i was eat—” he started, but before he could finish, the guy was already gone, disappearing into the back.

his head turned slowly toward you, utterly confused. “what… just happened?”

you glanced down at your own half-eaten slice, pretending to inspect it. “do you think they took it away because the pizza was bad?” you asked, struggling to hold in your laughter.

lando frowned, tilting his head. “i mean… maybe? but we already ate some. wouldn’t they have warned us first?”

you shrugged. “maybe they realized it too late—maybe it’s, like, radioactive or something.”

lando blinked, deep in thought. “well… i feel fine. for now.”

then, shaking his head, he pushed his chair back. “i’ll just go talk to them—”

before he could stand, the cashier reappeared, grinning as he placed the pizza right back on the table. “enjoy your food.”

lando just stared at the guy, then at the pizza, then at you.

“were we not already…?” his brows furrowed.

that was it. you couldn’t hold it in anymore. you burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as lando continued to sit there, completely lost.

“what?” he asked, blinking. “what’s so funny?”

still laughing, you managed to get out, “i—i told them to do it. it was a prank! for tiktok!”

lando’s jaw dropped. “you set me up?”

you nodded, still giggling.

he exhaled dramatically, shaking his head. “wow. betrayal. right in front of my pizza.”

“i had to,” you grinned. “your face was priceless.”

lando grabbed his slice, taking a big bite while still glaring at you playfully. “i hope tiktok enjoys this, because i’m not sharing my pizza with you anymore.”

you gasped. “lando—”

“nope.” he turned away, holding his slice protectively. “find another victim.”

you just kept laughing as he ate, shaking his head at you—but deep down, you knew he’d totally get you back for this.

ʚ・oscar piastri

there’s nothing better than a good pasta, so while you and oscar were in italy, you decided to have some fun. recently, you’d been seeing the tiktok trend where waiters take food away mid-meal, and what better place to pull it off than in the land of pasta itself?

tipping isn’t really the norm in italy, but you still managed to sneak the waiter a little cash. using your very broken high school italian, you did your best to explain the prank. it wasn’t easy—your italian was atrocious—but thankfully, after showing him the tiktok, he got the idea. with a knowing grin, he agreed.

when you and oscar sat down, you could barely contain your excitement. the pasta finally arrived, steaming hot, and you both eagerly dug in.

as always, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. oscar was rambling about something—probably a weird f1 fact or a debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza—when you glanced at the waiter and gave him a small, knowing smile.

that was his cue.

without hesitation, the waiter swooped in, grabbed oscar’s plate, and walked away.

oscar froze, fork still mid-air, a single strand of pasta dangling from it. his eyes followed his plate as it disappeared into the kitchen.

“did… did my food just get stolen?” he asked slowly, turning to you with the most genuinely confused expression you had ever seen.

you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. “maybe… do you think something was wrong with it?”

oscar frowned, looking down at the pasta still on your plate. “but we’re eating the same thing…” he blinked. “was mine poisoned or something?”

you shrugged. “maybe they realized too late and saved your life.”

oscar squinted at you. “so they just left yours?”

you bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing. “maybe they don’t care if i get poisoned.”

his jaw dropped. “that’s messed up.” he started shifting in his seat, glancing toward the kitchen. “i should probably go—”

just as he was about to stand up, the waiter returned, placing his plate back down in front of him with a grin. “buon appetito.”

oscar looked at the waiter, then at you, then back at his pasta. his face was priceless.

“wait, what?” he looked genuinely lost. “was i… not supposed to have it? were we not already eating?”

that was it—you burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

“oscar,” you wheezed between laughs, “it was just a prank! for tiktok!”

he blinked. once. twice. then, realization hit.

“oh, my god.” he groaned, rubbing his face. “you set me up? in italy?”

you wiped a tear from your eye. “yes, and it was so worth it.”

oscar shook his head, sighing dramatically before twirling some pasta onto his fork. “unbelievable. i thought i was actually banned from eating for a second.”

“you should’ve seen your face,” you giggled.

he rolled his eyes, taking a bite. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you smirked. “i know.”

oscar chuckled, pointing his fork at you. “but just so you know, you will pay for this.”

you shrugged, twirling your own pasta. “looking forward to it.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[ghostiequill]

How they spend Valentines with you:

Law 

You think he doesn’t notice but he does little things all day; making your morning coffee, leaving you with the less tedious tasks on board, even accompanying you roaming around the town they docked at 

Meticulously planned secret gestures

Spending time together each doing own thing

He allows you to be in his office while he works, an honour few get, as long as you're not too loud

He lets you into his world-showing you his Sora comics/coin collection

Before this, you thought your captain was this stoic, serious man but he reveals his softer, nerdier side-his way of saying “I trust you”

The day ends with you both doing your own thing in his office, sharing snacks in a comfortable silence, no words are needed to say how you both feel 

Sir Crocodile

His love language-working you into his busy schedule

Lavish but more personal, time is his most valuable asset and and he chooses to spend it with you 

Before dinner, you spend the day in his office, he even lets you have a little control- tying his cravat and wearing his jacket as you both do your own thing

Later rents out a whole restaurant and listen to you talk about nothing and everything, his way of saying you're worth his time

He buys you something extravagant but something you need, practical but flashy, maybe with his jolly roger on it

He will almost never say the words directly, not yet, but as you’re enveloped by his jacket, you see a ghost of a smile grace his lips and his hand brush yours, those feel more powerful than any words could

Corazon

Clumsy but endearing

Picnic date on a hill

Constant conversation, yapping about nothing and everything, end up laughing the whole day-he feels warm and comfortable

Tries to light candles and lights the blanket on fire

He cuts little heart shapes in the sandwiches and fruit for your date and beams when you notice

He gives you something small but personal like a charm he carved himself or a stone that matches your eyes

When he says those fatal words, they come out mid conversation in the midst of laughter, raw and real, you know he means them 

Mihawk

Soft, quiet and domestic

He doesn't ask you to be his valentine but 

He cooks you a beautiful handmade dinner, complete with a expensive wine from his collection

He offers some conversation, but mostly listens to you, his eyes never leaving yours, lingering on every word you speak

After dinner, he takes you to look at the stars in his woods, pointing out constellations and their stories

He whispers those words you’ve been dreaming of hearing as he kisses you gently, hand cradling your cheek

Doffy

He doesn't ask, you ARE his valentine 

Lavish and bold, expensive 

He buys you something you do not need but he thinks you would look good in, his perfect accessory wearing something he's given you

He brings to to a lavish party with a possessive hand on you the whole day, proud to show you off but will kill anyone who so much as looks in your direction for too long 

Later in his office sitting with him sunglasses off, resting his eyes in his chair, his way of telling you he trusts you enough to let his guard down 

He’ll always be too proud to say those words to your face, but you know that in those quiet moments you both feel what you’re both too scared to admit 

Sanji

Planned down to the second

Kicks the crew out, docked at an island known for romance,

Breakfast in bed, heart pancakes

Everything is catered to your every need, no need for you to lift a finger throughout the entire day

Later slow dances with ou in the kitchen with a melody no one else can hear but you both

VERY good listener when you talk so he for sure gets a gift he knows you'll enjoy, not necessarily practical but something to show off your beauty and what you mean to him

He pulls you close and tells you, his eyes soft and full of love, pulling you in for a kiss, he wishes he could hold you this close forever 

[memoiresofaneternaldreamer]

Gilded Cage

Pairing: The High Priestess! Hyunjin x Billionaire’s Daughter! Reader

Themes: Smut | Strangers to ? | Crime Syndicate AU

Wordcount: 4.9K

Playlist: ‘Venus In Furs’ - Ängie

Smut Warnings: Explicit sexual acts - Use of a blindfold - Feather play - Oral (F. Receiving) - Slight sensory deprivation - Pleasure dom! Hyunjin - Use of pet names - Praising - Slight submission (F. giving)

This story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors do not interact.

Previous chapter: Drive By - The Fool

The world is your playground.

Or at least, that’s what your father says when he drapes another diamond necklace around your neck or hands you the keys to yet another car you don’t need. Being the only daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country has its perks—your wardrobe is worth more than some people’s homes, your vacations are always on private islands, and your life is a carefully curated dream. But beneath the luxury, beneath the silk and gold, there is something you would never admit to anyone.

You are bored.

Painfully, excruciatingly bored.

Your father keeps you in a cage—gilded, beautiful, but a cage nonetheless. Every move you make is monitored, every outing meticulously planned, and every interaction carefully screened. He says it’s for your safety, that the world is too dangerous for someone as delicate as you. And, to be fair, you don’t exactly fight him on it. Most days, you let yourself be entertained by whatever new, expensive distraction he throws your way.

But today, something has changed.

You’re in one of the most exclusive shopping malls in the city, sipping on a lavender-infused matcha latte while your personal assistant carries your designer bags. A hushed conversation catches your attention as you browse through racks of couture you don’t need.

Two women—elegantly dressed, just the right mix of old money and scandal—stand by the jewellery counter, their voices low and intrigued.

“Did you hear? The next one is happening soon. Invitation-only, of course.”

“I heard the last one had a snow leopard. Can you believe it? A real one.”

Your ears perk up. A snow leopard? Your curiosity is immediately piqued.

“It’s all so thrilling,” one of them sighs. “The kind of place where only the right people get in.”

Your fingers tighten around your drink. You are the right people. More than that—you are the people.

The moment they walk away, you turn to your assistant.

“Find out where that auction is,” you instruct. “Now.”

That night, you sit across from your father at the grand dining table, the chandeliers above you reflecting off the polished marble floors. A team of chefs has just served a meal you barely touch, your mind preoccupied with the plan forming in your head.

“Papa,” you say sweetly, swirling your wine. “I want to go to an auction.”

Your father looks up from his plate, intrigued but unsurprised. “An auction? What kind?”

You flash him a practised, innocent smile. “An exclusive one. Downtown. They’re auctioning off rare artefacts, and there’s a necklace I’ve been dying to get my hands on. A princess’s necklace.”

His expression softens, and just like that, you know you have him. Your father loves indulging you, and he loves history almost as much as he loves keeping you happy.

“I don’t see why not,” he says after a moment, nodding. “But you’ll take security with you.”

You sigh, pretending to be annoyed. “Of course, Papa.”

The plan is in motion.

The auction is at the far edge of town, in a place so inconspicuous that, for a brief moment, you hesitate. For all you know, this could be an elaborate trap. But the thrill of the unknown is too tempting, so you push forward, your lime green Shelby Mustang purring as you pull up to the entrance.

A single man stands at the door—a bouncer, thick and unyielding.

“Name?” he asks, looking down at a clipboard. You confidently give it to him, expecting the doors to swing open. He checks. Then checks again. Then looks back at you.

“You’re not on the list.”

Your smile doesn’t falter. “That can’t be right.”

“I don’t make mistakes.”

You shift your weight, tilting your head. “Do you know who my father is?” The bouncer remains unmoved. “This is a private event.” Annoyance bubbles in your chest. This never happens to you. You always get in.

You try again, pushing, persuading, letting hints of your father’s influence slip between your words. But it’s no use.

With a huff of frustration, you turn on your heel, ready to storm off in dramatic defeat—

And then the door opens.

And he walks out.

At first, you don’t register anything except presence. The kind that commands attention without even trying. Then, the details follow—high-end fashion that drapes like it was made for him, layers of gold jewellery catching the dim light, a fur coat thrown over his shoulders like an afterthought.

But it’s the face that makes you stop.

He is beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair—graceful yet masculine, soft yet sharp. Dark eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long, long time, you feel entirely out of your depth.

His lips curve into an effortless smile, and when he finally speaks, his voice is like velvet. “Well, well,” he murmurs. “Who do we have here?” Your throat dries, but you don’t let it show.

He steps closer, the scent of expensive cologne lingering in the space between you. Then, with a slow, practised elegance, he takes your hand—his touch light, deliberate—and brushes his lips against your skin.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, lifting his gaze. “My name is Hyunjin.”

Your heartbeat stutters.

You don’t blush. You never blush.

But you do now.

Hyunjin’s smile deepens as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “I must say,” he continues smoothly, still holding your hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Then, without looking at the bouncer, he gives a simple nod.

“She’s with me.”

And just like that, the doors open.

The moment the doors shut behind you, the world changes.

Gone is the cold, industrial exterior of the building. In its place, dimly lit corridors stretch before you, the air thick with the scent of expensive cigars and something more elusive—power. The floors beneath your heels are marble, the kind that doesn’t just exist to be walked on but to announce wealth. You glance at Hyunjin, his expression unreadable, and follow him deeper into the labyrinthine hallways.

Hyunjin doesn’t speak, but you feel the weight of his presence. His every movement is deliberate, controlled—graceful in a way that feels almost practised. You wonder if he was born like this or sculpted into the man he is now, refined like a perfectly cut diamond.

Before you can say more, he stops in front of a set of grand double doors. They are obsidian black, carved with intricate gold detailing—regal, imposing. He places a hand against one and pushes.

Beyond them, the world comes alive.

A breathtaking display of wealth and secrecy unfolds before you. The room is vast, the ceilings high, adorned with golden chandeliers that cast a sultry, amber glow over the opulent setting. Rich mahogany and velvet dominate the decor, the air buzzing with hushed conversations and soft laughter, the kind only the truly powerful possess—the type that speaks of invulnerability.

It’s intoxicating.

Your gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the sheer decadence of it all. These aren’t just rich people. These are the elite. The ones who don’t just buy luxury—they own it. You recognise some of them—captains of industry, heirs to ancient fortunes, politicians whose faces grace magazine covers. But there are others, too, ones who remain nameless but equally dangerous, exuding an aura of control that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end.

Hyunjin leans in, his breath warm against your skin as he gestures discreetly.“See the man in the navy suit by the bar? Oil tycoon. No country owns him, yet he owns half the world. And the woman in emerald green? Former royalty. Loves her diamonds, hates her family.”

His gaze sweeps the room, pointing out kings without crowns and monsters in silk. You drink in this untouchable, untamed luxury, and it fuels something inside you.

Hyunjin guides you to an elevated space near the front, a private alcove with plush seating and an uninterrupted view of the stage. A waiter approaches instantly, offering crystal flutes of champagne. You take one, savouring the way the bubbles tingle against your lips.

The auction begins.

It starts slow, calculated. The first animals brought out are rare but not shocking—exotic serpents, small creatures from faraway lands. The bidding is fierce, millions exchanged with nothing more than a subtle nod or the lift of a hand.

Hyunjin watches you, his expression unreadable. “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You nod, unable to deny it. “The money… It’s insane.”

“It’s not about money,” he corrects smoothly. “It’s about power. Ownership.”

You gulp at his words, nodding as your mind drifts at the implications.

Then come the true prizes.

A magnificent Amur leopard, its coat like liquid gold under the spotlight; a Siberian tiger, its piercing eyes scanning the crowd with quiet defiance; African wild dogs, black-footed ferrets; and an addax whose curved horns could belong to a myth. The crowd leans forward with anticipation, voices sharpening as the stakes rise.

You are mesmerised. Not just by the spectacle, but by the people surrounding you here. These people don’t care about rules. They buy what they want. Own what they want. They are free.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until the birds are brought out.

The Red-fronted macaw is dazzling, the Kākāpō rare and heavy with legend. But it’s the fruit dove that steals your breath.

It is smaller than the others, delicate and impossibly vibrant, its feathers painted in hues of emerald and coral, nature’s own masterpiece. It looks utterly out of place in this world of predators. And yet, there’s something captivating about it.

You barely notice the way Hyunjin is watching you.

“You like it,” he observes, voice smooth, knowing.

You nod, barely looking at him. The bird is mesmerising.

“Then bid.”

Your eyes flick to him, but he is already watching you, something unreadable in his gaze.

“It’s rare,” he continues, tilting his head slightly. “Much is still to be learned about them. Many species are shy, difficult to observe in their natural habitat. They are not hunted for food, and yet…” His gaze drops, a fire within them that sets your skin alight.

“They are still coveted. A prized possession.”

You hear the words, but it is the way he says them that makes your breath hitch. The way his gaze rakes over your form, slow and deliberate. The way his voice lowers, rich with a meaning that has nothing to do with the bird at all.

You swallow. Hard.

“Bid.”

So you do.

The game begins, and at first, it is easy. A simple back-and-forth with another bidder.

But then— A woman’s voice. Sharp. Confident. Challenging.

You glance toward the source and immediately understand.

She is stunning, older, with an air of authority that suggests she is used to winning. But more than that, how she looks at Hyunjin—possessive, knowing—makes it clear.

She wants to win. Not just the bird.

The moment you realise this, a spark of something hot and reckless ignites in you. Your fingers tighten around the paddle. Not tonight.

You raise the bid. She counters. You go higher. The tension thickens. The numbers rise.

Four hundred thousand.

Four hundred and fifty.

Five hundred.

The woman hesitates. You see it in her expression. Hyunjin leans in, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear, “Don’t stop now.” You inhale sharply.

“Five hundred seventy-five thousand.”

Silence.

The gavel comes down. Sold.

You exhale, your pulse racing, but before you can bask in your victory, Hyunjin leans in. His lips brush the shell of your ear again as he whispers, “Good girl.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

The auction moves on, but you barely hear it. Not when his words still linger in your mind, setting every nerve in your body alight. And then, just as you take another sip of champagne, Hyunjin extends a hand once more. “Come,” he says, eyes gleaming. “Let’s finalize your purchase.” He leads you towards the back rooms, away from the crowd, away from prying eyes.

And something in the air tells you that whatever awaits you behind the darkness is far more dangerous than anything you’ve seen tonight.

You follow Hyunjin without question, still high from the rush of winning the bid, from the weight of his presence at your side, from the way he had whispered good girl in your ear like it was something sacred, from the taste of freedom you feel at finally doing what you want.

As you weave through the corridors, the sounds of the auction fading into the distance, a voice—her voice—cuts through the air.

“Hyunjin.”

You slow, glancing back. The woman from the bidding war stands in your path, her delicate fingers brushing against his sleeve in a way that is anything but innocent. She tilts her head, a sly smile curving her lips, but her eyes are sharp, assessing. “Leaving so soon? I was hoping we could… catch up.”

Hyunjin doesn’t even hesitate.

“Not tonight.” His tone is smooth, effortless, yet absolute. He doesn’t turn to face her, doesn’t spare her another glance. Instead, his hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you forward.

The rejection is brutal in its indifference.

You don’t look back. Not right away. But after a few steps, curiosity tugs at you, and you steal a glance over your shoulder.

 The woman’s smile is gone. She watches you with barely concealed disdain, her lips pressed into a thin, furious line. A slow, victorious smirk tugs at your own lips. She sees it. And it only makes her scowl deepen.

Hyunjin leads you through another door, and suddenly, you’re in a different world.

The room is exquisite—dark, sleek, littered with gold and fur. It is extravagant, opulent. Just like him.

Everything from the black marble floors to the velvet drapes screams power. A large desk sits at the centre, its surface polished and pristine, illuminated by the soft glow of an expensive-looking desk lamp. Behind it, shelves house rare artefacts, books that likely hold more secrets than stories, and bottles of aged liquor with labels in languages you can’t read.

At the centre of it all, a large black velvet couch sits like a throne.

You take it all in, slowly circling the room. “This is an office?” Hyunjin’s voice is smooth somewhere behind you. “Would you prefer something more… ordinary?” You glance at the velvet couch, running your fingers over the fabric. “No. This suits you.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Your heels echo softly as you step toward the desk, where Hyunjin is flipping through the paperwork, his golden rings catching the light. He slides the documents toward you, handing you a pen.

“Just a signature,” he murmurs. “And your payment, of course.”

You take the pen, its weight surprisingly heavy, and sign where he indicates before reaching into your purse. Your fingers find your chequebook, and you lay it flat on the desk, leaning over to fill it in.

The room is so quiet you can hear the soft scratch of your pen against the paper.

And then, a shift.

The slightest change in the air, a whisper of movement behind you. At first, you don’t register it. You’re too focused, too caught up in the ritual of payment, in the finalization of your victory. But then—heat.

A presence, pressing against your back.

Before you can turn, before you can speak—Dark silk blinds your vision.

Your entire world is cast into black.

Panic surges. Your body tenses, your pulse hammering wildly against your ribs. “What the hell is going on?” Your voice is sharp, edged with fear. “Hyunjin—!”

His hands are on your hips in an instant, grounding you. He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice low, soothing.

“Hush now, little dove.”

You shudder, your panic mixing with something else.

“You have been in a cage for far too long,” he murmurs, his fingers pressing firmly into your waist, his warmth melting into you. “It is time I set you free.”

Then—his lips. A slow, deliberate kiss against your neck.

Your lashes flutter beneath the blindfold, your senses heightening in the absence of sight. You can’t see him, but you feel him—everywhere. The warmth of his breath, the teasing press of his mouth, the strength of his hands holding you still.

“Will you let me?”

It is a question, and yet it isn’t.

The control is still yours, and that realization sends a different kind of shiver through you. You don’t speak—your voice has abandoned you. But the minuscule nod you give is enough.

Hyunjin��s lips curve into a smile against your pulse. His hands leave your waist, only for one of them to take yours, guiding you away from the desk. You follow blindly—literally—feeling the shift beneath your heels, the soft give of something plush against the back of your knees before he eases you down.

The couch. He has settled you onto the black velvet couch.

His touch disappears.

The absence of it is maddening. Your heart pounds against your ribs, your fingers flexing against the fabric as you try to sense where he has gone.

And then—A whisper of sensation against your arm.

Not fingers. Not skin. Softer. Lighter. Barely there.

A feather.

It drags down the length of your arm, trailing like a whisper over your wrist, up toward your shoulder. A pause. Then, lower—brushing against your collarbone, ghosting along the curve of your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

Your breath shudders out of you, and your lips part.

Hyunjin moves in silence, unseen but everywhere. The feather traces down your throat, over the fabric of your dress, dipping lower, teasing but never quite giving.

It is torturous.

And you have never wanted anything more. Your body feels strung too tight, your breath uneven, every sense heightened in the dark. The feather glides over your stomach, your thighs, pausing just short of where you ache to be touched.

Then—his voice. Soft, but commanding. “Open your legs.”

Your breath catches, but your body obeys before your mind can catch up.

You part your thighs.

You hear nothing—see nothing—but every nerve in your body is awake, thrumming, stretched taut like a violin string. The feather moves again, a whisper of sensation against your parted thighs.

You exhale shakily in anticipation, readying your body (and mind) for what is to come, and then—

It drifts lower. What?

The softest, most excruciating caress against the inside of your knee. It lingers there, teasing, before gliding downward, following the gentle slope of your leg.

You let out a soft whine, the sound escaping before you can stop it. Hyunjin chuckles, a low, indulgent hum that vibrates through the air. His voice is warm, teasing, like liquid gold spilling into your ear.

“Be patient, little dove.”

Your breath stutters. Patient? You are beyond patient. You are aching. Burning.

But he is in no hurry.

Your fingers twitch against the velvet couch, the fabric burning hot beneath your touch as the feather travels further—down, down, over the bare skin of your calf, brushing the sharp curve of your ankle. And then—your foot.

You gasp as the feather flutters over the sensitive arch, the unexpected sensation making your muscles jerk in response. Hyunjin hums in amusement. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, and though you cannot see him, you can hear the smile in his voice.

He takes his time, mapping the contours of your foot with slow, agonizing strokes—gliding along the curve of your arch, teasing the tips of your toes, circling back to skim over your ankle once more. It is a form of torment you never knew existed, this unbearable, feather-light pleasure that leaves you trembling, aching, your breath shuddering past your lips.

You make a small, involuntary noise when the feather finally begins its ascent again.

It trails back up your calf, slower this time, deliberately drawing out the moment. The sensation coils deep within you, tightening with each passing second, your skin hypersensitive, your body hyperaware, your underwear soaked, your pussy clenched.

It glides over the inside of your knee once more—then higher.

Your thighs tense as the feather sweeps along the sensitive flesh, tracing intricate, meaningless patterns that set your skin aflame. You shift, unable to stop yourself, but Hyunjin does not let up.

Instead, he continues his merciless game, the feather dancing along the curve of your thigh, drifting from one leg to the other, back and forth.

Your breath stutters. You’re trembling now, your body betraying you, responding to the teasing touch with increasing desperation. You can feel how close he is, the warmth of his presence, the weight of his gaze.

And then—finally—The feather reaches your cunt.

A sharp, wanton gasp escapes you when the feather softly grazes over your pulsing clit, your fingers tightening into fists against the couch. Hyunjin exhales slowly, like he’s savouring the sound.

The feather lingers there, tracing slow, deliberate strokes over the engorged nub, never quite giving you the pressure you crave. It brushes, flickers, teases, sending jolts of pleasure shooting up your nerves. Your hips twitch, your breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, and yet—he does not give in.

Not yet.

You shift again, desperate, seeking more friction. Something. Anything. To relieve this building ache in core.

And then, just when you think you might lose yourself completely to this torture, Hyunjin’s voice breaks the silence. Soft. Amused. Knowing. “What is it you want, little dove?”

You have never begged for anything in your life. Not once. But for him? For this?

“Hyunjin…please.”

Your voice is raw, breaking over his name. But he doesn’t move.

You can feel him, so close yet so infuriatingly still, his presence a smouldering heat between your thighs. You shift, parting them further, seeking more friction.

“Please, Hyunjin… I need you. Your fingers, your mouth, anything…Please.”

Hyunjin hums, pleased, his voice rich with amusement. “Look at you.”

Finally his fingers glide over your thighs, warm, firm, stroking in slow, deliberate circles, and you feel as if you might cry.

“You were so put together when you walked in here. So sure of yourself. And now…” His touch tightens, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “Now you’re begging me.” A shiver rolls down your spine.

“Say it again,” he murmurs. “Beg me properly, little dove.”

You swallow, your head falling back against the couch. The words spill from you before you can stop them. Before you can even think.

“Please, Hyunjin, please—I need you. I need you to touch me.” Your breath hitches, your voice trembling. “I need your mouth on me. Please.”

There’s a sharp inhale above you. Then—warm hands, strong and unyielding, gripping your thighs. “That’s it,” Hyunjin purrs. “That’s my good girl.”

He pulls you forward effortlessly, dragging you to the very edge of the couch, spreading you wide for him. Your shoulders hit the backrest, your body melting into his touch as a quiet, needy whimper escapes you.

“So pretty,” he muses as if admiring his favourite masterpiece. “So perfect for me like this.”

His fingers slide beneath your underwear, slow, teasing, just a brush—just enough to make you choke on a breath, to make you arch into him. “Let’s get these off, hmm?” There’s no waiting, no hesitation. The fabric is gone in seconds, leaving you bare beneath his gaze.

And then—heat. Hyunjin’s mouth finally presses against your cunt.

You moan out at the sensation, his lips softly enveloping your clit and sucking the nub into his mouth. Your sounds only seem to spur him on, and he dives in. He’s not gentle with it, like a man who had been starved for far too long finally getting his first taste of sustenance. He buries his head deeper between your thighs, sucking harder, his tongue and teeth alternating between flicking and nibbling the nub.

“More, Hyunjin…. Please.” You moan out, hips gently rotating against his face, desperate for more friction. More pressure.

He releases your clit with a pop, his lips instead tracing a path down towards your entrance. As his tongue pokes out to gather your juices, another gasp escapes your mouth. A second later, his tongue plunges into your hole, and you buck forward at the intrusion, your hand flying into his dark locks. Hyunjin pulls away, tsking at your behaviour.

His voice is strained, deeper than before, as he grounds out: “Now, now, little dove. Don’t make me clip your wings.”

The gaze that greets yours is dark, feline, and suddenly, you wonder if you might have actually become a bird at the mercy of this predator.

Hyunjin commands softly: “Grab the back of the couch. Don’t let go.” Before diving back in. Even though his head is buried against your cunt again, you still nod your head before doing as you’re told.

You feel his hand sneak its way between your legs as his lips resume their plays around your clit, before he plunges two fingers inside. “Oh fuck…” you groan as his hand picks up the pace, in perfect sync with his mouth. You grind your hips against his face again, careful to keep your hands behind you, and Hyunjin groans out at your brazenness, the vibrations sending another shiver up your spine as they pulse through you.

Hyunjin picks up the pace even more, adding a third finger, curling them inside of you and flattening his tongue to apply more pressure and draw quicker circles on your clit. It’s slightly embarrassing how quickly you reach your peak, the combination of the blindfold still covering your eyes, your senses being dulled, the earlier ministrations of the feather, and Hyunjin’s skilful movements between your legs proving to be too much.

“Oh fuck… I’m coming. Hyunjin. I’m coming.” You have just enough time to scream out as you topple over the edge, your body quivering as your orgasm overtakes you.

Hyunjin pushes you through it: “Yes, little dove. Yes. Come for me, such a good girl you are.” He groans, his fingers still pistoning inside of you. Your juices cover his hand, his lips, but he doesn’t stop. Only when you cry out, sounding a little less pleased and a little more pained, he gently removes himself from you. Delivering a soft kiss to your vulva, a silent praise.

Your body is still humming, the aftershocks of pleasure leaving you weightless, limbs heavy against the velvet couch. The world feels hazy, suspended between reality and something more indulgent, more intoxicating.

Hyunjin rises from the floor, slow and fluid, his presence still a smouldering heat between your thighs. And then—warm hands cradle your face, fingers pressing just enough to ground you before his lips crash against yours.

You moan softly into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue, letting him swallow the sound like a secret. The kiss is deep, unhurried, yet claiming, leaving you dizzy all over again.

And then—he pulls away.

“Stay put.” His voice is smooth, firm, laced with something unreadable. “Don’t take off the blindfold yet.”

You exhale shakily, nodding without question. Your body still belongs to him, your mind too clouded to resist. You listen as he moves—footsteps, the rustle of fabric, the faintest shift in the air.

Then—Nothing. The silence is so thick, so absolute, it coils around you like an invisible tether. You strain your ears, waiting, anticipating. Still—nothing. A minute passes. Then another. Your fingers twitch against the couch, unease flickering beneath the remnants of pleasure.

“Hyunjin?” you whisper. No response. You wet your lips, your throat suddenly dry. “Hyunjin.” Louder now. Still—silence.

A strange chill spreads through your limbs, the absence of sound shifting from anticipation to something else—something wrong. You sit up abruptly, your legs pressing together, your body instinctively curling inward as your fingers move quickly to your face. The blindfold slips away.

Blink. Adjust. Focus.

The dim golden glow of the room sharpens around you, the opulence still intact—the dark, sleek walls, the velvet couch, the furs spilling over the furniture. But Hyunjin is gone. Your chest tightens. Your gaze sweeps the room, searching for movement, a shadow, an open door. Nothing. No lingering warmth. No sign he was even here. Your breath hitches. You reach for your underwear, needing something tangible, something to ground you.

But they’re gone.

Instead, lying beside you is a small folded note. As you pick it up, your fingers tremble slightly, the thick paper cool against your skin. You hesitate, pulse ticking at your throat before you finally unfold it. Neat, elegant handwriting stares back at you.

“Don’t fly too far, little dove. Or I’ll have to catch you again.”

Your breath shudders. Something slips from the note into your palm.

A tarot card.

Matte black, smooth between your fingertips. You turn it over, gold lettering gleaming under the soft glow of the lights.

The High Priestess.

Your grip tightens around it, your mind racing, pulse hammering. You’ve heard whispers before. The Syndicate. A name never spoken too loudly, slipping through the cracks of high society, shadowing the rich and the powerful. You know enough to understand its weight, but not enough to know its reach. A slow chill creeps into your bones, replacing the lingering heat. What does it mean? Why this card? And more importantly—

Did you just sign away your soul to the devil?

A/N: Part two of The Syndicate is here! Still have 6 more members to go, each with their own role and plot within the group. Can you guess who is next on the list? Also, kudos to anyone who noticed the little easter egg at the beginning. 💟

Send me your thoughts - feedback/fangirling is always welcome.

Taglist: @hanjisungs-bitch66 - @smartie-pants

(Collage created by me. Credits to owners of the pictures taken from Pinterest)

[aliceramblez]

HSR Men Spending Valentine's Day With Their S/O 💌

Feat. Phainon, Aventurine, Jing Yuan, Sunday & Dan Heng!

Tags: GN!Reader & lots of fluff!

Happy belated Valentine's to all my besties out there who've been cursed with having the love of their life be a video game character T_T

Phainon

Doesn't have the slightest clue what Valentine's even is until you teach him. One of the downsides of living in a world disconnected from the rest of the cosmos, you suppose.

Rest assured though, once he gets the gist of it, he's showering affection all over you for everyone to see, much to your dismay.

He asks you to be his Valentine in the middle of Marmoreal Market, kneeling down and offering you a red rose as your face practically combusts from the grand gesture, all while people stop and mumble at the scene.

“P-Phainon, everyone's staring!”

“Of course they are, αγάπη μου. They can appreciate true beauty when they see it.”

Your room has been filled to the brim with presents of all kinds once you come back from training later in the day—flowers, desserts, trinkets, you name it and it's there. Tribbie actually complains to you, wishing you never told Phainon anything in the first place. You can take a guess as to who helped him set everything up.

Once he's done with his own duties, the Chrysos Heir visits you and is ready to take you out to have a romantic evening on the streets, but after seeing how exhausted he is, you can't help but giggle and suggest you stay in and cuddle instead. He's all for it.

“It's not much compared to everything you got me, but here you go.”

With Aglaea's help, you ended up weaving him a new tunic, specifically a chlamys for whenever he went out on expeditions with colder temperatures.

His eyes light up as he grabs the garment, shoves it to the side, and gently pulls you against his chest with a content sigh leaving his lips. You return the gesture gladly.

“You are too good to me...”

Aventurine

This man will pull no expense when it comes to you. And honestly, would you expect any less?

Want some flowers? He's bought you an entire cart. Chocolate? He scoffs at you saying you only having a ‘small craving’, so he comes home with at least two crates worth. Jewelry? Has no problem in getting something valuable with all his connections.

Despite you telling him he doesn't have to get you all this stuff—even though you're grateful and love everything he gets you—he'll just chuckle with that darn teasing smirk of his.

“If a Stoneheart can't spoil their loved one on Valentine's Day, what good do all those earnings do me?”

Did I also mention he's doing all of this while still at work? He texts you to make sure you've recieved the gift, and then gets back to his own business.

Suddenly, Topaz of all people messages you with a reservation for a fancy restaurant and asks you to “please tell your idiot to focus, we're in the middle of a meeting” and all you can do is apologize profoundly.

Despite the evening being filled with lots of luxury, Aventurine eventually takes you out into the balcony to have some privacy as you relish in each other's presence. Contrary to popular belief, the blond doesn't like big crowds—he can manage being social only for a while for his job, but will then retreat back into the comfort of your arms to relax.

That's when you decide to give him his gift.

“...W-What's this?”

“You didn't think you weren't getting something from me, did you?”

You wrap a bracelet around his wrist encrusted with Garnet—a gem that symbolises love and devotion. Aventurine seems to understand the meaning because for a fleeting moment you can see Kakavasha, the man you fell in love with, staring at you with nothing but utmost dedication.

He places a kiss at the back of your hand with a smile that makes your heart leap with joy.

“You are truly the most beautiful gem I've ever found in this galaxy...”

Jing Yuan

Unfortunately, due to his position as General and being confined to the Seat of Divine Foresight, he can't actually go out with you anywhere for this special occasion, much to his dismay. You completely understand, but he's much more saddened about it than you are.

This doesn't mean he hasn't made arrangements for you to receive the very best on this day—flowers are sent to your house by the time you wake up along with a handwritten letter, all delivered via Cycrane.

“I apologize for my absence for such a marvelous occasion, but hopefully you can find it in your heart to forgive me with the tokens of appreciation I have planned for you. Happy Valentine's Day, my dear.”

The rest of the day is also pretty much luxury after luxury—from a delicious gourmet meal, to beautiful Lafou accessories, to even a beautiful flight via starskiff courtesy of Madam Yukong.

It's at this moment that you decide it's just not fair for you to be getting all the attention, so you decide to enlist some help from Sushang to carry out your new plan.

After visiting plenty of hot spots in Aurum Alley, the two of you are able to come up with a small meal that will hopefully satisfy your lovely general. So after thanking and bidding your friend goodbye, you head for the Seat of Divine Foresight.

It's already dark outside by the time you arrive, so you're almost worried that Jing Yuan might have already left for the day. But you are very much wrong once you go through the double doors.

You see him working his way through paperwork at his desk, a somber and almost exhausted look in his eyes which breaks your heart slightly. Once he notices your presence though, it's as if his energy has been rejuvenated, because he's smiling at you just like he always does, albeit there's a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“I figured the General of the Cloud Knights didn't have lunch today.”

As he looks at the bag of takeout in your hands, he chuckles softly as he stands from his seat and reaches you in mere steps. A kiss is placed upon your lips and all you do is hum in delight.

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.”

Sunday

He's freaking out by the time the date arrives because he's never had anyone to celebrate such an occasion with—he's never loved anyone as much as he loves you.

Since you two haven't been together for that long, he's asking the members of the Express for insight into what things you might like and just general advice on how to showcase his affections.

You can imagine the chaos that ensues from that.

The whole day he's shifting from one personality to another, presumably to see what best suits your tastes and trying to be as romantic as possible—he tries (and fails) being suave and unbothered as he gifts you a bouquet of roses.

He tries cooking something using Himeko's recipes, and you and the entire crew are pretty sure you'll be dead before the food reaches your plates.

It isn't until he has you cornered in your room and tries (and fails again) to be flirtatious that you finally push away from him and ask why he's been acting weird all day.

He shrinks under your gaze.

“Forgive me, I just... I've never had anyone I've wanted to show my devotion to on a day like this. I only wanted to give you the best, but didn't particularly know how...”

“So you asked March 7th for advice?”

The pink on the tips of his ears is enough confirmation. You're going to have a talk with that girl about taking advantage of their newest member.

“I wasn't expecting anything from you, Sunday. Just being together is enough for me. I love you and I know you love me, so, isn't that enough?”

He stares at you as if you've just uncovered the secret of the Aeons, and a smile instantly lights up his face while he brings your hand to his lips to kiss. You giggle at the sensation.

“You always know what to say. Thank you for loving me, my dove.”

Dan Heng

Always found the tradition to be unnecessary and, quite frankly, sometimes even a scam. There's no need for a specific time of the year to showcase how much he loves you—he tries doing that every day!

But he doesn't want you thinking he doesn't care, so he's sure to knock on your door at the exact moment he knows you'll be awake, where you open up and he greets you with a bouquet of carnations and a box of chocolates he purchased on their latest visit to Belobog.

“Happy Valentine's Day...”

“You don't seem too excited about having to say that.”

“W-What do you mean? I—”

Before he can continue to fumble with his words, you go back into your room and start digging through your drawer of knick knacks, and come back with a book in hand. You hand it over to him and Dan Heng instantly recognizes it.

It's a hardcover edition of one of the books he already owns on the history of Penacony. The Express had gone back a few weeks prior for some business—them being shareholders and all—and you saw the way your boyfriend's eyes lit up in curiosity when seeing for the first time, but he ended up putting it back.

“This is...”

“To be honest, I wasn't sure if we were gonna do anything for Valentine's, so I just bought this as a random gift. You never get things for you, so I figured, why not?”

You then suggest to head downstairs to grab some breakfast to take to the Data Bank so you can eat and have a chill morning of light reading.

The Vidyadhara is looking at you as if you grew a second head, but then he smiles that one smile that's only reserved for you. You return it eagerly as you close the door to your room and interlock your fingers with his.

“Very well. Shall we get going?

[psychoticallytrans]

Hey. You. Disabled person.

We're in dark times right now, and a lot of us are probably going to die. A lot of us have always died, and we tend to be the first ones offloaded when times get hard for being "more trouble than we're worth".

Those people are wrong about us. We are worth every effort needed to keep us alive, because we are people. We are worth loving and caring for. Our quality of life and our joy are important.

The people who are wrong about us are currently in power, and are being given leeway to act. We are likely going to be stripped of a good portion of our healthcare, income, and networks. The first two are most likely to happen directly, through cuts to federal programs. The latter is likely to happen as the ones who love us are burdened under their own problems, and may no longer have the time, energy, or spare income to help us. Ignoring any of that won't help us.

So, our lives are valuable, but they're not being treated that way. What next?

Do what you need to to secure your healthcare. We're going to see a boom in black market and back-alley treatment. Find doctors and pharmacists you trust who keep their mouths shut and their standards of care high. If you can, stockpile medications that are expensive or likely to see shortages with the tariffs. If you depend on weed or CBD for part of your symptom management, see if you can find a grower who's likely to keep it up even if the conservative agenda on weed gets reinstated.

Look into alternative sources of income. Yeah, old news for a lot of us, and I expect you've heard all the old advice about data entry and so on before. Monetary isn't the only kind of income that'll help here, though. If a neighbor will pay you in food for helping set up a spreadsheet, that's food you don't have to buy. If your insurance no longer covers repairs to your equipment, then a technician and you can barter services.

Don't do their work for them. If they want you dead, then they should have to fight for every single death that they want to see. If you have to die, don't die quietly. Spread exactly why you're dying as loud and far as you can- social media, local papers, anywhere you can. Name your killers clearly and often. Don't make yourself easy to bury. Take their reputations down with you.

Do, however, prepare to be dead. If you have any assets you care about, get a will together and make sure they'll be sent to the people who actually gave a shit about you even when it was work. If your parents were pieces of shit, they don't get to sell your small collection or your left-behind art like they have a right to it. Draw up what you want done with your body.

Living wills are important too, as is declaring who has your medical power of attorney. These determine how you are treated if you are alive, but unable to communicate or not considered in your right mind. Be very careful about who you give these rights to, but if you don't give them to anyone, they probably will default to whoever your next of kin is. If there's someone better than them, get it down in legal terms. If you're gay and happily married, get it down that your spouse has your medical power of attorney, in case they manage to rule against gay marriage at the federal level. An advance directive covers both a living will and who has your medical power of attorney.

Hide. Steal. Fight. Commit crimes and use the legal system. Protect yourself and preserve your own life by any means you can get your hands on.

Because every single one of us who stays alive is spit in the face of everyone who thinks it would be more convenient to have all of us comfortably dead and out of their way.

Because every single one of us who stays alive is proof to the disabled people who come after us that we are not easy to get rid of, and that they deserve to fight as well.

Because every single one of us deserves to live.

I love you. Stay the fuck alive.

[emmg]

Swapped sugar daddy anon crawling back into ur inbox, (I am continuing to write the beginning of their relationship, and ngl my respect for fic writers has tripled. I have no idea how you do this I feel like a 5 yr old smacking 2 barbies together and yelling kiss) and apologies for how long this is but I’ve been thinking about how everything eventually blows up in their faces and I kinda want it to be a pregnancy scare in her final year? They’ve been seeing each other for a few years now, and they get a little relaxed about things, they’re exclusive and she’s on the pill so they don’t have to worry about it. Until her period is several weeks late so she takes a test just in case and suddenly they really do. And oh god she wants kids, especially Emmrich’s kids, but not right now??? She doesn’t want to have to juggle pregnancy/a baby while writing and defending her thesis. They haven’t even talked about kids yet even if she’s pretty sure he wants them? He hasn’t acknowledged her hints about marriage, is it because he doesn’t want to marry her? She’s so scared about what this means and she needs Emmrich’s support and why is he being so weird and cagey about this? Does he think she’s trying to baby trap him? (She doesn’t know but he wouldn’t mind, he’d probably say thank you)

And Emmrich is in crisis mode. Now, he is a pro choice king so whatever rook wants is what happens, but also oh god he wants this child sooo bad. He’s always wanted kids but he’d kinda given up on it at this point and add in that it’s Rooks baby? a little piece of their love made physical (Don’t think too hard about how she doesn’t really love you Emmrich). An excuse to still see her sometimes, even if it means watching her eventually move on and marry and start a family with someone else. Even if she doesn’t want to be involved he could keep this little part of her (its only for a second, but he thinks he’d give her anything she asked for, he’d pay off her student loans, he’d buy her a fucking house, if she let him have this even if she walks away from it) but she can’t know that. He’d never forgive himself if he pressured her into this no matter how much he wants it. And he realises how completely and utterly fucked he is. Rook is the love of his life but he isn’t hers and there’s no way that this can continue as it is. If she keeps the baby she’ll never really be able to leave him behind, and is he selfish enough to ruin her life like that? He’s already bought the last three years with fancy restaurants and expensive gifts, what can he possibly offer her that’s worth the rest of her life?

I’m still not 100% sure about how it all comes out but I imagine that it's probably a fight, their first big real fight, about how rook feels like Emmrich’s being avoidant and unsupportive and Emmrich is fighting for his life bc internally he’s hanging on by a thread, like why is she treating this like their relationship is actually real? He’s trying to build up some emotional distance bc no matter how this goes he’s kinda fucked and he wants to make sure that he makes it through this at least somewhat emotionally intact. I think rook eventually calls him out on this, saying something about how she thought he was serious about this, about her, how she thought they were gonna get married but how he’s acting is making her rethink that bc it doesn’t seem like he is very serious about her right now. And he says something about how of course he wants to marry her but he wouldn’t put her in that position bc he knows it would be unfair to ask her for that. And rook is like what the actual fuck are you talking about Emmrich? And Emmrich is crying at this point, quietly and very prettily but he is crying. And this is when the misunderstanding comes out, where Emmrich is like “I know you don’t actually love me and I don’t expect you to, but I would appreciate it if we could discuss this situation without pretending that you do.” and this is when rook starts to put the pieces together and is like “wait do u think i'm only with you for your money” and Emmrich’s like “yes? Why else would you be dating me?”

I have absolutely zero ideas on how this is actually resolved but i know that emmrich 100% ugly sobs at some point. And realistically he’s probably still quite insecure about whether or not rook actually does love him but i feel like they work it out eventually and get married and are disgustingly happy together.

Also idk if they keep the baby or not, but they absolutely have at least 1 kid at some point.

BABYYYYYY I am ON MY KNEES begging you to publish this because I have read and re-read it so many times that I’m basically in a parasocial relationship with your asks. At this point, just reading your ideas is activating my primal hunger instincts. I’m starving. I am THIS CLOSE to organizing a fandom-wide intervention where we collectively cyberbully you into dropping this holy manuscript.

The way I flatlined at "pro-choice king"—like, I ascended. I left my body. LMAO

Listen, I am normally violently allergic to the "and they lived happily ever after with 2.5 kids and a suburban mortgage" trope. I break out in hives. I see it, and suddenly the book I loved turns into a mid-tier Hallmark movie where the protagonist goes from slaying demons to clutching her stomach and whispering “oh my god.” Like, girl. GIRL. No. Keep that away from me. Anyway, thanks for attending my TED Talk.

BUT. FUCKING. EMMRICH VOLKARIN. This man was engineered in a lab to be a father. He was born for it. I go absolutely rabid over the idea of him having a daughter. He is so girl-dad-coded that it’s spiritual. Rook so much as mentions her period is late, and this man is weeping.

He’s already drafting a will.

He's calling his lawyer.

He’s distributing his gold bars.

He’s making her his sole life insurance beneficiary.

"And rook is like what the actual fuck are you talking about Emmrich?" — lmfao nah for real. What did you think these last three years were? And Emmrich does that Gob face from Arrested Development, you know the one:

I want him to cry and then I want them to fuck and then I want him to cry while they fuck. That's it, your honor.

[lunasanguismusic]

Offering some safety tips in these atrocious times. Because fuck this shit!!!

For those who don't know me from my past, I am a survivor of an attempted murder/hate crime. I trusted the wrong person because he was my brother's friend. He was kind of weird, but I didn't think he was that much of a bigot until it was too late. I also assumed he wouldn't ever be dumb enough to do anything crazy at my job. Assumptions can get you killed.

The first time I turned my back on him he attacked and smashed my brains in pretty badly for quite some time, before strangling me near death. I had a gun in the office but it would not have saved me. In fact, if it was on me like it usually was, I feel he would have used it on me and I wouldn't be here today. Having my friend there did save me though. She scared him off right as I was about to die. Without her I would be dead.

While arming yourself is extremely important, please don't forget or take for granted the single most important safety tool a trans person has available. Don't go out alone if you're trans. Always have backup if you can. If you have no friends, find someone to be your backup as soon as possible. Two or more sets of eyes is so much better than one.

Never turn your back on a person you don't know exceptionally well either. Most people are loving, kind, caring souls, but trust me I've run into quite a few monsters who I didn't think were threats at first. Always be aware of your situation. Keep an eye on exit paths. Be prepared. Never go to a strangers house on a first date.

Arm yourself while you still can legally. Build a community. Join trans support groups. Take safety lessons. Triple down on vetting strangers and confirming they are a real person before meeting them. Talk to them for months if you need to. If they won't put up with your vetting, that is a red flag. Most people know or can at least understand the shit we are dealing with and will gladly make us feel safe. Pressure to meet quickly is a red flag.

I can't stress enough that most people, even conservatives are not usually bigots. Be nice to people and build strong ties. Most people just haven't met a trans person yet. The cops even, were the kindest most loving people and one stayed with me most of the night to make me feel safe that day. I don't know if he realizes how much of a difference that made in my life that day. Don't judge a book by it's cover.

Someone misgendering you repeatedly? Let it go. Give them a compliment to try and deescalate the situation. Doesn't matter how right you are, or how wrong they are. I've seen crowds turn on us. Just go home and enjoy your life. Tomorrow will be a better day.

Most trans people get murdered or harmed by someone they know. If you're in an abusive relationship, just please get out of it. Walk away. It's not worth it. Someone will love you unconditionally. You deserve better. Don't become a tragedy.

Lastly, if shit hits the fan, don't go down without a fight because you could end up tortured like our beautiful brother Sam here. They will probably add more charges later btw. That's typically how this works at this stage. Rip brother, you didn't deserve this. Hope everyone who did you wrong in life burns in hell. I'm so fucking angry you had to go through this.

Sam's go fund me. Please consider helping his family out.

A transgender man was held, tortured for MONTHS, assaulted, murdered and dumped in a field in the state of New York. The suspects are being held and charged with SECOND DEGREE MURDER (aka intentional but not premeditated.) As someone who lives in the North Eastern US I am disgusted by the depravity of this crime. The motive has not been identified and a hate crime has not been ruled out, but the justice system is historically not favorable of transgender individuals and it is possible that justice will not be served. Do what you can, tell someone about this case. Say his name: Sam Nordquist.

Transgender people: please stay safe, do what you need to do to be safe, carry weapons, be aware of your surroundings, and always tell someone where you are.

Horrible people are everywhere, the best we can do is be here and be heard.

[brontes]

and THEN I got bit by a bug that said "Chicago house?" What if I could contrive a situation such that Edward and Bella could get married in Chicago? In a little old church just a few blocks from the house he grew up in. That he inherits from himself every few years. Which would be kept in good order and have minor updates made but stay true to the time period in which it was originally. And what if he had it fully furnished and decorated and stocked and they spent the night there before leaving on their honeymoon. And what if they lived there while Bella was human for a few years. What if it was restorative and healing for Edward to do that. What if he took this house that he had owned and not known what to do with or why he kept it. And what if he began to restore it as he fell in love hardly knowing what he was doing. What if the house was a metaphor for the humanity inside him brought back to life by the power of Bella's love for him?

[red-dyed-sarumane]

i need people to start paying me for every time they tell me "oh but ur arts so good ur wasting ur talent u need to do it professionally" wrong i need to do art to draw beautiful characters that not a single other person cares about while feeding every ounce of love i have into my work or to convey thoughts & feelings beyond words and to even think of doing otherwise is to deny my own nature "oh but u can do what u want and then sell it" why is everything about money to you why cant u just enjoy things at what point in ur life did u forget how to have fun

[theduchessofnaxos]

So, admissions didn't exactly go the way I wanted - I am excited about the offer I got, and it's a great school that my professor wouldn't have recommended if he didn't think it was a good program. But I applied to a lot of the top-tier "name brand" programs - some of which I was really excited about - and the closest I got to them was one MA admission. And that's a little bit of a hard pill to swallow when you're a privileged fuck who's had your family talking about how you'll do great things your whole life.

Fast forward to today, I'm watching a movie where the main character doesn't get into the top school she applied to and has a hard time with it. Texted my friends to joke that watching this was a bad idea. And I get back "I'm watching [some guy]'s tour of England and he stops in Cambridge. I think it's just now sinking in." Because my friend got into an MPhil at Cambridge.

I love my friend. And obviously I don't want her to suppress her joy about her amazing accomplishment. But goddamn lady, have some tact? 😂

[freakystinky]

OP is being a wet sock in the comments for some bizarre reason, so since I’m U.S. based here’s a link to all the United States requirements for relicensing physicians because I think it’s an imperative resource for chronically ill and disabled people to have:

Due to individual states deciding these requirements, they’re obviously insanely varied. This impacts the way that patient care is delivered SIGNIFICANTLY, especially in physicians who have stayed in the same states and have been meeting those lower standards for many years, compounding their paucity of knowledge and lowering the quality of care their patients can receive.

Generally, 50hrs/yr is the average, with retesting every 1-4yrs, but some states such as Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana have them at 20hrs/yr or lower.

This means, that over only 8 years of practice, an MD in Washington state (50 hrs/yr) has obtained up to 304 more credit hours than an MD in Alabama (12 hrs/yr).

You’ll also notice that states with the lowest CME requirements (highlighted) also happen to make up the states with the highest maternal mortality rates…

That correlation aside, we KNOW that CE is incredibly important, and that doctors with CE have better patient outcomes. The fact that the US doesn’t have federal regulations regarding this is just plain embarrassing (source).

The system is dysfunctional and things like this are probably costing peoples lives. We need to talk more about it; the first step to improving it is creating awareness that this stuff does exist, it’s just not as effective as it should be. As patients deserve it to be.

Relicensing is already real and a requirement, what we need to do is make it functional and regulated using our votes.

I'm so extremely serious when I say doctors should be put through an extremely extensive reliscensing process every 10 years. Doctors should have their knowledge scrutinized against current medical research and be de-barred at even the tiniest discrepancy. Too many old doctors absolutely refuse to stay up to date on research and dismiss patients because of their personal experiences. Too many people die every year because doctors don't take us seriously and refuse to listen to people who KNOW something is wrong. Too many people are told their problems are nothing and come back in a year or more with serious illnesses and doctors are just like "lol everyone makes mistakes" but doctors mistakes routinely cost people their lives! I'm tired of medical malpractice being swept away under the guise of "mistakes were made."

[fellator]

I love having beautiful roommates because their partners are always kind of simpy and very dedicated which often results in me getting spoiled 🥰

[sugucide]

two weeks.

it's been two weeks since kento has been inside of you. He's gone months, hell even years without sex before he met you and he was fine. he didn't even wish for it like most of his bachelor counterparts did.

but now that he's had a taste of you? two weeks may as well be a death sentence. which is ironic, giving the nature of this sex ban. everything you do is inviting: maybe it's just his underworked sex drive or maybe he's reverted back to his teenage years because he sure does feel like an impatient, entitled brat whenever you walk past him.

he can smell you. not the smell of your perfume you spritz on each morning. not the product in you hair. not the moisturiser you use. but you, the scent of your self, your body, the skin he's so often inhaled as he bit down between your thighs or up the column of your neck. he can smell the memories of sex, sweaty and tangled in pheromones and all things primal.

he can hear you. not your words or laughter or the way you hum absentmindedly when you're pottering around the house. he can hear that sharp little intake of breath when you accidentally, or not-so-accidentally, brush against him. he can hear that whining tinge to your voice when you tell him you won't sleep with him, that you're punishing him, as if its moreso a punishment for you than him. he can remember the way you'd moan for him, desperate and glassy eyed and oh so perfect for him as he ruins you from the inside out.

he can't take it anymore.

"two weeks is more than enough time for me to think about my actions," he tells you over dinner one night, eyes cast downwards at his plate. "...and to come up with a suitable apology."

you place your chopsticks down at his last words and look up at your husband. "oh? let's hear it then."

over the frames of his glasses, kento's eyes meet yours. "i apologise for worrying you and risking my life for my work."

you tap your fingers against the table. "and will you continue to do it?"

"yes," he admits. "it's my job, one that i do well. if i die doing it, i hope it's in place of someone who didn't sign up for it, like you."

kento reaches over the table and takes your hand. "i can't just stop being a sorcerer. that would be too selfish of me. but i do promise that i will make more of an effort to reduce my chances of getting hurt from now on: no more unnecessary risks. okay?"

though that was all you needed to hear from him, you start to wonder if lifting the sex ban was a good idea when your pent-up husband is swiping plates from the dinner table to make room for you to lay back on it. claiming he can't wait the few extra second to carry you to the bedroom, he has you stripped and laid bare on the dining room table in no time, and he's ready for his meal.

"missed her," he mumbles as he parts your legs with a strong hand and bends down to kiss once at your clit. that's about and gentlemanly as it gets, though, because soon after he's making out with your pussy like he's a virgin. no technique, no precision, nothing but unfiltered need and its so much hotter than you'd imagine it to be.

eyes locking onto yours from between your thighs, he adds two fingers and works you open. two weeks was a long time for the both of you, so he'll need to get you used to the stretch of him again. he scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them upwards to hit your g-spot and smirks like a saint when your back arches off the table in response.

"missed you ken," you ramble on as your climax nears. "missed you so much. hated doing this. love you. loveyouloveyou god i love you."

you cum hard, harder than you've cum in a long time and kento laps it up like he's never tasted anything so good. he savours your taste on his tongue like he would an aged wine, something expensive and delicious and worth keeping bottled. though he's harder than diamond and worried he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't sink inside of you soon. so he stands and undoes his belt in record time (with those lovely hands of his) and repositions you at the end of the table with his leaky cock already pressing against your wet entrance.

he leans over you and shares a kiss with you as he pushes in. he inhales the gasp you let out at the stretch and moans into your mouth as a gift in return. he pulls out almost entirely, so it's just his head nestled in your tight pussy, and then slams in again. hard.

"god kento—" you start, about to chide him for being so rough with you when you notice his face dip into your neck and the sudden warmth filling you from the inside. kento's hips stutter and he bites at the skin of your shoulder to muffle the heavy moans that ache to free themselves from his chest.

"did you just—"

"don't," he cuts you off, cock twitching inside of you with his release. he's plugging you up, keeping you full of him and his cum. "give me a minute and i'll fuck you so stupid that you forget that just happened."

"you just—"

"don't laugh."

"im not laughing! it's just, you know like our first time..."

"shut up." kento's hips pull away and then slam back into yours as he starts a brutal pace with you.

that shuts you up good.

[webism]

sugar daddy!gojo who cuts a deal with you one evening: for each orgasm he can pull from you, he'll transfer $1000 into your account. who has you on your back, sweat soaked and fucked boneless as he brings you to your eighth climax of the night.

who, instead of dirty talk, or talking you through it, he coos about all the things you'll get to buy with what you earn. "can get your nails done so pretty, oh and that bag i know you've been looking at baby," because cocky is an understatement and you're too cumdrunk to tell him to shut up even if you wanted to.

sugar daddy!gojo who pays your rent on the condition that he has his own key cut for him to use as he pleases. sometimes you'll come home to a new set of lingerie laid out on your bed. sometimes you'll open the door to flowers on the kitchen counter, other times it's diamonds.

who sometimes surprises you when you're home, too. he sneaks in as you're showering and gives you the fright of your life as he hops in with you. it's okay, though, because he makes up for the scare by dropping to his knees and eating you out with such scalding passion you barely notice the heat of the water against your skin any longer.

sugar daddy!gojo who takes you shopping with the intention of showing you off. of course people turn their heads when a pretty thing like you walks by with his hand dangerously low on your back. bags hang off his free arm full of gifts for you, who he loves spoiling more than life itself.

who can and will fuck you in the dressing room if you show him an outfit that he particularly likes. no one will notice, bar from the slightly sore gait you walk with for the rest of the day. pushes you against the full length mirror and fills you with his cum, makes you spend the rest of the day shopping with him leaking out of you.

sugar daddy!gojo who buys you a car despite always being the one to drive you around. he likes being behind the wheel with one hand inching up your thigh just a little higher at each red light. you swear he brought you your car just to show off, just to make the purchase obsolete.

who fucks you in it regardless of the fact that it never sees the road. parked in your garage it sees more movement than it ever would otherwise. he hardly fits even in the backseat, but it's worth it when his legs are splayed and you're bouncing on his cock like you have no regard for the expensive leather lined seats. not that it really matters if you mess them—he can buy another car.

sugar daddy!gojo who likes giving you your allowance in cash, just so he can have you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock as he lazily counts out the thousands he'll gift you. every time you make him feel particularly good, he reaches over into his safe and pulls out a few more notes to add to the pile—laughs when you moan around his cock at the sight.

[tardis--dreams]

Gotta talk to the department boss tomorrow because i asked for opportunities to increase my work hours. I regret it already but i can't back out now so this is gonna be fun (:

[constantlyquestioningg]

getting the sudden urge to take a bus to a Bigger Town and have a day out and then come home (it is 23:03)