#i love nine tailors so much

[asymphonyofstarlight]

save me gaudy night by dorothy sayers save me

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[redrose10]

i see you're taking more reqs!! i wanted to suggest a yoongi sugar daddy or dilf au maybe? or both? 🤪 i don't have anything specific in mind tbh, maybe something he did makes oc jealous and then he reassures her? or whatever else you'd like to do will be fine!

There will be a part 2 to this. I hope its’s okay and that you like it so far!

Idol Yoongi x Female Spouse Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, body insecurity, hints of cheating, Jealousy, maybe more…

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

You admired the man standing infront of you carefully fixing his tie so that he could look perfect for the evening ahead.

“I can’t believe I lost my cherry tie.”, he pouted as he spritzed on some cologne. “I’m sure it’ll turn up, besides we’re supposed to dress formally tonight and a tie with little cherries on it isn’t exactly formal.”, you chuckled. It was the night of the talent show at your daughter’s school. They had asked the parents to dress as nicely as possible to really make the kids feel like it was a special night for them.

When your husband gave you a little spin you couldn’t help but be stunned in silence. Your husband Yoongi was incredibly handsome. His suit was tailored to hit him perfectly. More than though he was also charming and charismatic with a smile that could melt even the coldest of people. Not to mention the immense amount of talent that he had. It was no surprise that he had people all over the world shouting Yoongi Marry Me any chance they got.

You were lucky though. You were the one he fell in love with. The one he calls his and the one he comes homes to at the end of the day. You are the one he started a family with that was growing by one more any day now. All of this should keep you happy and satisfied yet somehow you often, especially lately, felt like you weren’t quite enough.

“Ready?”, Yoongi asked as he reached out for your hand. His wedding ring glistened in the light. You groaned as he helped you get off of the bed. You were nine months pregnant with your guys second child. Your belly was large and you were sore and swollen and exhausted, but you were determined to watch your five year old daughter perform in her school’s winter talent show. Yoongi kept his hands on your waist to make sure you were steady before you took any steps. “You look beautiful Y/N.”, he said before placing a kiss to your lips. “I look like a cherry about to burst.”, you groaned while really regretting the red dress you had chosen. “You don’t…but even if you did you know I’ve always had a thing for cherries.”, he smirked before leading you to the car.

The school was packed. Yoongi walked infront of you to help create a path while his hand was gripping yours tightly to pull you through the crowd with him. Every few steps he would take a look back at you to make sure you were still doing okay all while politely dodging questions and denying other eager parents of photos and autographs. He knew your feet were already killing you so he was trying his best to get to your seats quickly and without being noticed, but unfortunately being a famous idol came with lots of attention, both positive and negative.

You heard the gasps, the camera shutters, the whispers,

“He’s so gorgeous.”

“He’s even better looking in person.”

“I hope I have a husband like him one day.”

“Yoongi’s such a good dad. His daughter is lucky.”

But there were also the negative ones that were mostly directed at you and while you were used to it by now they were still uncalled for and hurt you quite a bit.

“Wow, I know she’s pregnant, but that’s not an excuse to let herself go like that.”

“Yoongi must be so embarrassed of her.”

“Yeah he could do so much better.”

“Yoongi is definitely cheating on her. There’s no way he still finds that attractive.”

The entire walk to your seat you kept your focus on Yoongi’s hand intertwined with yours while willing yourself to ignore the comments and not end up crying on your daughter’s big night.

The auditorium quickly filled with family members as well as some school staff all ready to watch the kids put on the show they had worked so hard for.

The principal gave a little speech and then the curtain opened and the first act commenced. The kids were adorable and you loved watching them put all of their talents on display. You and Yoongi especially loved the little boy who danced to Boy With Luv.

“And next we have Hana Min.”, the announcer said. You laughed as Yoongi got his phone out ready to take a video.

Your daughter scanned the crowd looking for the two of you and immediately started waving as soon as she saw you. Then she went on to do a wonderful job performing a dance to a piano tune Yoongi had recorded for her. The crowd applauded and you couldn’t have been prouder. Then after a few more acts it was finally time to leave.

“What do you think? Ice cream on the way home?”, Yoongi smiled as he helped you out of your chair. “You know me so well.”, you chuckled going to take a step forward when you were cut off by a group of the other moms. You recognized them from various events around the school. You had always tried to be nice and friendly wanting to make some friends, but they always excluded you for some reason. You assumed it was jealousy, but never really probed for a reason.

Now they were surrounding your husband badgering him with compliments and questions,

“Hana must’ve got her talent and her cuteness from you Yoongi.”

“Are you free to give my son piano lessons? I’ll pay EXTRA….*wink wink*”

“Have you been working out? Your shoulders look so broad.”

“You’re such a good dad Yoongi. I wish my husband was half as involved as you are.”

Those comments you could ignore. They were nothing different than the usual things you heard and you had seen even worse online over the years.

“Oh Yoongs…I’m so glad to see you here.”, an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind you. A woman, about your age maybe a little younger, was walking up towards you and your husband. Her floor length shimmering gold gown caught your attention thanks to the way it perfectly hugged every curve of her body. You thought the thigh high slit was a little inappropriate for a kids event, but you couldn’t deny it looked good. Her hair was long and curled perfectly which matched her perfectly applied makeup. You started to feel like you should’ve put more effort into your appearance tonight, but just getting dressed was an accomplishment on its own at this stage of your pregnancy. You were so caught up in her appearance that it took a moment for her words to process in your brain.

“Yoongs?”, you questioned with furrowed brows.

The grip Yoongi had on your hand increased, almost to the point of pain and you had to pull away.

“Aera.”, he nodded, “It’s nice to see you here.”

“The talent show was great. Little Hana did amazing. I would’ve loved to sit up front with you, but my asshole of an ex-husband cancelled at the last minute. Chul was devastated and it took a while for me to convince him to still show up and perform so I got here just as the show was starting.”

“Yeah he did a great job. He has definitely got a shot at a rap career.”, your husband smiled.

You had seen this play out many times before. Someone would tell Yoongi how he inspired their kid to get into music and he would play it off and get all shy and nonchalant. This time seemed different though, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Well he has a great mentor in you.”, she replied, “I just wish he had a dad as good as you too.”

Your husband awkwardly chuckled before running his hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. He tried reaching for your hand to lead you away when Aera suddenly jumped in excitement startling both of you, “Oh, I almost forgot!” She started digging around in her purse before pulling out a neatly folded tie. Not just any tie, but the tie you had given Yoongi on your third wedding anniversary. It was covered in little cherries, an inside joke between the two of you. It was the tie with the cherries that he was looking for earlier and thought he had lost.

You started to pull your hand out of his wanting to question why this woman had his tie in her purse, but he strengthened his grip keeping you put.

Aera handed it over, “You left it at my place a few weeks ago and I just keep forgetting to give it back. I’m just so forgetful sometimes.”

You forcefully ripped your hand out of Yoongi’s grasp and backed away. There was only one reason why your husband would remove his tie at another woman’s house and the thought of it made you sick.

[teamatsumu]

how GoM react to you wearing their jersey to a game

-> AOMINE DAIKI:

You knew he wouldn't show up to the game, as per usual. But this time would be different.

This time, while you stood over his lazy, napping form on the school roof, you had promised him that if he showed up, there would be a surprise waiting for him.

That caught his attention, as you knew it would. He was skeptical on the inside though. What could possibly be good enough to make him stay for a whole game, start to finish?

He did not expect to hear you scream his name from the stands during warm ups, breath hitching when he caught sight of you in his jersey.

You had put it on over your sweater, grinning wide as you pointed at the number and mouthed ‘surprise’. It made aomine blink and gulp.

You had worn his clothes before, but never his jersey. He felt his skin tingle in a foreign feeling of possessiveness. That was his number on your chest.

Aomine turned around and walked to the coach. “Put me in at the beginning of the game.”

His teammates gawked at him. Aomine? Willing to play? No, not just willing. Eager. This was unprecedented.

You however, were giggling in the stands, knowing exactly what his motivation to play today was.

-> KISE RYOTA:

Kise’s fans often showed up in his jersey number for games, giggling and squealing in the stands and saying his name to get his attention during warm ups. But you, you were different.

For one, you were dating. For another, you weren’t just wearing a jersey with his number on it. You were wearing his personal jersey. Tailored to him and swimming over your small frame.

You grinned when he noticed the jersey on you before the game in the hallway. He bit his lip and hid a smile.

“You wore it for me?” He tilted his head, trying to hold back from cooing all over you. You looked so cute.

“Yeah. To support you. I see all your fans do it.” You shrugged like it was no big deal. It was a big deal though, at least to Kise.

He stepped forward and smacked a sloppy kiss on your cheek, made you squeal and wipe it off in mock disgust. It didn’t bother Kise though. He was on cloud nine just looking at you wearing his clothes.

-> MIDORIMA SHINTARO:

His brain short circuits when he sees you.

Next, a million thoughts hit him all at once.

First of all, how did you even get your hands on his jersey? And how had he not noticed a missing jersey from his closet?

(You were sneaky and crafty usually, so it wasn’t too surprising)

Second of all, how did orange look so good on you?

“What is the meaning of this?” He scowls at you, making you giggle and skip closer to him. Midorima fought to keep a straight face. You were glowing.

“I know you have your lucky object with you,” you eyed the humongous hourglass figurine in his hand. “But I thought it would be nice to have a little extra luck.”

He felt his lips twitch, the muscles of his shoulders relax. He hadn’t realized he was about to walk out to court while being so stiff.

He pouted at you and looked away when he caught your teasing gaze, looking away with heated cheeks. “Thanks for the luck.”

You giggled again and planted a kiss on his jaw, turning around to the hall which lead to the stands.

“See you after the game, Shin.” You called back. Midorima allowed his lips to tilt upwards as he watched you leave.

-> MURASAKIBATA ATSUSHI:

I’m gonna say it, he doesn’t think it’s too big a deal.

Not the jersey itself, but he is more affected by the fact that you’re wearing his clothes at all. Because they are huge on you.

You’re swimming in it, dwarfed by the sheer amount of fabric. If he didn’t like the look so much, he would laugh.

But he loved it. Loved seeing you in the stands, perking up and grinning at him whenever he looked up at you and met your eyes.

The white and purple looked great on you, made you stand out in the crowd and put you in the center of his vision. What a view to have during the game.

Him putting in more effort on the court was all because it made you cheer for him and stand taller. He could give less of a shit about the actual game or the end result.

Rest assured, he will be subtly hinting at you to wear more of his clothes, jersey or otherwise.

-> AKASHI SEIJUROU:

Akashi’s actions make it abundantly clear that he is very territorial of you.

You are his. No one else has rights to you the way he does.

Now imagine him seeing you at a game, which he knows is also being attended by his peers, underclassmen, opponents and other acquaintances, knowing you are in his jersey.

His number on your chest and back, his school colors enveloping your frame.

Everyone would know you were his. And that sense of power made him feel things.

His piercing gaze finds you in the stands, the uptick of his lips and the satisfied look on his face was enough for you to squirm. Oh he liked what he saw.

He gives you a harsh kiss in the hall when the game ends, and an approving once over that fills you with glee.

With zero words, Akashi has ensured that you would show up to all his games from now on with his jersey on your back.

[g1rld1ary]

Hello ml, i have binged all of your lifeguard!james series and wondered if the could be in a country bar with cowboy hats and low jeans or dressed as cowboys for Halloween ( not purposely matching ) I can see reader being all hot and bothered about james in overalls no shirt and a cowboy hat. Dont feel like you have to but i love these sm

- Hannah xx

lifeguard!james potter x fem!reader (COWBOY EDITION)

prev

wc: 1949

cw: hornyyyy, alcohol

me: i am FERAL for this ask like absolutely UNHINGED girl i loved it sososo much and i really hope you do too!!!! watched footloose as research and if anyone wants more cowboy/footloose content PLS just shoot me an ask or request because the obsession is back in full force. thank u so much for reading!!! <3

ALSO!! this is my 1 yr anniversary fic!!!!!! felt right to be my boy lifeguard!james because im crazy for him <3 thank u sososo much to everyone who's ever read and interacted with my fics i love u all soso much and am grateful for u all every day <333

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“shh, hurry up!” lily giggled as you snuck out her window, snorting as you landed heavily in the bush underneath. you flipped her off as you wiped the arse of your low-rise jeans, hopping over to marlene’s old car and sliding through the open window.

“are we picking up the boys?” you asked, taking the beer bottle offered by mary from the back seat.

“you mean are we picking up james?” marlene said with a sing-song trill and you turned out to the window to hide your smile.

“that’s not what i asked, was it?”

it was only a half-hour drive to the next town over, where your real favourite pastime lived. lounging by the public pool was fun and all, but nothing compared to maverick’s. maverick’s was a classic country bar, and the last saturday of every month was all-ages line-dancing all night. you went without fail.

you loved the atmosphere of the bar, the music, the crowds, the fashion. everyone dressed to the nines in cowboy attire, hats and boots dominating your eye line, though your group was no different.

you’d perfectly tailored your outfit to fit in with the crowd of dancers. skin-tight low-rise denim sandwiched between red cowboy boots and a red flannel just a size too small, tied up tight under the curve of your breasts.

“fuck!” you moaned, running your hands down your face as the girls all turned to look, “i forgot my hat!” the girls all burst out laughing, relieved there wasn’t an actual emergency.

“just come dance already,” lily grabbed you by the hand, leading you out to the big wood dance floor. you followed with no hesitation.

everything felt better when you were dancing. there were no worries, nothing to think about, no sadness or boredom to wallow in. when you were dancing, there was just music. just joy.

the song ended as if on cue, right when the gimmicky saloon doors swung open to four figures. you, however, were only staring at one.

james potter had never looked sexier. you said that every time you saw him, but this time it was really the truth. cowboy boots with washed denim overalls being the only thing covering his broad expanse of chest. on top of his dark messy curls rested a leather cowboy hat.

you could have sworn your legs should have been strong from dancing but your knees grew weak at the sight, mouth practically watering as you drank in the man before you. you laughed but were secretly grateful when mary jokingly supported your weight.

the boys sauntered over to you, all clearly feeling themselves in their cowboy getups — even remus looked confident in his double denim.

“hello there,” marlene crowed, laughing as they all did little spins to show off their outfits.

another song started and all your conversation was forgotten in favour of dancing, not wanting to waste the night you’d waited all month for. as each of your friends found their own space to move, james slotted in by your side.

“so you do this every month?” he asked, nervously looking around to see what other people were doing.

“every month,” you affirmed, already feeling yourself getting lost in the music.

“what am i supposed to do?” you could hear the rising panic in james’ voice as the choreography began to pick up, “i’ve never learnt these steps, how does everyone know them?” you couldn’t help but laugh at handsome, cool, lifeguard james potter freaking out because he didn’t know some dance steps. you laid a hand on his bicep to calm him down (and because it looked irresistible in the low light of the bar).

“the trick is not to worry — if you look closely, sirius hasn’t done a single right step this whole time, he’s just confident about it.”

james took your advice and you could see him starting to loosen up, which brought a pretty smile to his lips. he still looked to you for a guide of what direction to be travelling in, but you liked watching him have fun with it and laugh through all his stumbling.

he managed to make it through three whole dances before tapping out, and you skipped behind him over to the bar, still moving your hips to the music.

“what’s the problem?” you asked with a twirl to the song, watching as james cracked open his beer, “all those weights you lift not helping you with your moves?”

“it’s overwhelming,” james shrugged, catching you again unprepared for his unwavering vulnerability, “i’ve never been anywhere like this before, i feel out of my depth. how’d you guys find out about it?” you really, genuinely did feel bad that james was being honest with you and you were staring at his exposed chest, but it wasn’t your fault that he’d gotten sweaty from dancing and now it was shiny! you felt no better than a crow.

“believe it or not, a guy actually took me here on a first date once. it went terribly, like fucking awful, but i just fell in love with this place and the feeling. been dragging everyone else here ever since.”

“how does a guy screw up a chance with you? i mean, he takes you out dancing and still can’t show you a good time?” james shook his head like he was exasperated that some man he’d never meet hadn’t had a good date with you.

“he wouldn’t loosen up,” you hooked a finger around the strap of his overalls, pulling yourself closer to james’ seat on the barstool. “barely danced ‘coz he didn’t wanna look like a dork, and he wouldn’t tell me anything real about himself. i spent the whole night staring at other couples and wishing he was like them. unlike…” you stopped yourself by biting your lip shyly, eyes straying past james to the multicoloured alcohol bottles stacked against the wall of the bar.

“unlike?” he asked, then sensing your sudden nervousness, changed the subject, “your outfit’s missing something.” you cocked your head to the side curiously.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he repeated, lifting his cowboy hat from his head, placing it on yours instead. you took the initiative to run your fingers through his messy curls, arranging them to cure his hat hair.

“d’you even know what that means, baywatch?” you asked, one eyebrow raised.

“nah, but i’m sure i’ll like it.”

james’ sharp tongue went un-reprimanded when your favourite song came blasting through the speakers: Fake ID. you gasped in delight, taking off towards the dance floor in a hurry, james stumbling along behind.

james sat out the first verse to get acquainted with the music, eyes trained on you. you, for once, were mostly unaware of james’ gaze, enraptured by the music and the energy around you. you lost yourself in the dance, body moving with muscle memory so you could enjoy the experience fully. james’ eyes couldn’t leave your figure, roving over the creamy expanses of exposed skin, observing appreciatively as you swung your hips in his direction with a quick wink.

remembering what you’d said about your failed date james took the dive and risked his dignity, hopping the barrier between him and the dance floor. in seconds he was next to you again, clumsily (but enthusiastically) following the choreography you were executing more gracefully.

“let loose!” you yelled as the choreography faded out, everyone around you turning and twisting to the music.

you left james to his own devices to twirl with mary, holding james’ hat on your head to ensure you didn’t lose it. you flung your arms into the air with glee, grinding against nothing when fingers interlaced with yours, spinning you quickly into someone’s hold. james. you released the alarmed breath you’d taken, raising an impressed eyebrow as james smoothly brought your hands up to rest around his neck, his own finding their way down to your hips.

you barely spoke, enjoying the music and the tension that thickened whenever the two of you were alone together. james’ eyes moved almost erratically, trying to take in every inch of you he could, and you weren’t much better. there was a thin sheen of sweat coating the miles of exposed, tanned skin james was showing off, catching the light and drawing your eyes toward it.

james let go of you long enough to get low to the floor, hands and mouth grazing your skin as he worked his way back up your body. you arched your back to swing away from him long enough to hide your blush at the sensations, straightening back up to push yourself even closer to your dance partner.

you’d practically fused into one being, all sweat and flying hair and moving limbs, both your hips moving in time with each other and the music in a way that wasn’t feeling strictly friendly. the eye contact between you was unwavering and you had to force yourself to keep it, refusing to back down from what james had started.

you were so close, millimetres apart. james’ plush, pink lips were practically already on yours, yet he hadn’t closed the gap. why? his heavy breath fanning your face as you danced and all you could think about was what it would be like to kiss james potter.

the song ended just as you’d made your mind up to close the gap and you pulled away with a start, lips only barely grazing his. the room applauded as the houselights came back on, a sign that the night of dancing was over. you cheered with them, still making eye contact with james.

the rest of your group broke up your moment, hooting and hollering and dragging you back to the respective cars. james twirled you one more time on the dance floor, landing with his hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. you gasped with both surprise and delight at the unexpectedly smooth manoeuvre, letting him lead you back into the cool summer night air.

not quite ready to go home yet the group spread across the two cars, sitting on the bonnets and the grass in between. you stood still connected to james, who was leant against the driver side door. idle chatter passed about as you all praised the night, rehashing what you’d just lived through and how you already missed it.

“so, little lady,” james exaggerated a terrible southern accent, “you gonna tell me what all that fuss is about my hat?” the group had finally started moving, the click of car doors pervading the otherwise now quiet night.

“you’re outta your depth, baywatch,” you produced a cocky grin, “save a horse, ride a cowboy.” james’ surprise gave you leave to skip back to marlene’s car and slide through the passenger window.

she’d just put the engine into drive when james called after your car, “is that a promise?”

your laugh carried back to him through the wind as marlene pulled out onto the road back home.

[oikasugayama]

You can't escape from chuuya 😜 the same as with dazai with the reader with a short skirt nsfw I wanted the most chuuye😠

fiiiiine, fine. Have Chuuya smut that's twice as long as the Dazai one ;)

MDNI, NSFW, fem!reader in a short skirt, 5k of filthy dirty nasty smutttt, name calling, brat taming, spanking, daddy (only once), fingering, cum eating, blow job, all sorts of shit ok. MDNI MDNI MDNI

You’re always professionally dressed at work. Members of the Port Mafia are paid handsomely, so you can all afford to dress to the nines, even for a simple day in the office or a dangerous tryst out in enemy territory. Like many of your coworkers, you prefer a polished, businessy look when conducting Port Mafia business. You have a closet full of perfectly tailored pantsuits, mostly in black though you do keep a few fun colors should you get the chance to wear them. 

On your days off, however, you’re more or less unrecognizable to your coworkers thanks to the difference in your business style and your personal style. You’re not just fond of bright and pastel colors, you’re obsessed with them. The girlier, prettier, and gaudier a piece of clothing is, the more you love it. You’re inspired by Harajuku, and pastel goth styles, as well as some frilly vintage vibes now and again. You even have a small collection of colorful wigs you like to wear out sometimes when an outfit calls for just the right one. 

One of your favorite outfits includes a black tube top, a cropped pastel pink cardigan that hangs off one shoulder, a black and pink plaid mini skirt over some fashionably ripped fishnet tights and a chunky pair of black platform boots. You like to accessorize of course, and typically go for a pastel pink dog collar choker with a heart pendant, chains hanging across your waist and down one side of your skirt, dangly earrings, and several rings. Depending on your mood, your makeup is either very sharp and black, or very soft and pink, and if you choose to wear a wig, its color is the opposite of the makeup you chose.

On the day you accidentally run into several of your coworkers in a bar, you’re in a pink wig with black eyeliner so sharp it could cut a man. 

You’re not surprised that they don’t recognize you. At work you have very plain, naturally colored hair, typically smoothed back into a bun, much like Higuchi and Gin do. In a plain black suit, it’s hard to show off your style. Besides, you wouldn’t want any of your fun clothes getting ruined in the line of duty. And it’s not like, on the rare occasion you hang out with your coworkers, that you’ve had time to go home and change. Typically if you go anywhere with them that isn’t for work, it’s just to lunch in the middle of the day, or to a bar at the end of a shift. They’ve never known you to look anything except professional.

This leads you to want to have a little fun with them all, to see how close you can get and what you can start saying before one of them catches on that it’s you.

You walk past the group a few times on the way to the bar or to the table you’re perched at. They don’t say anything about you at first, and they’re not talking about anything important from what you hear. On your third trip past, however, you do catch one of them mentioning you, and you use your ability-- which allows you to focus your hearing on anything you so choose within a certain radius-- to eavesdrop from across the loud room.

“--same chick has walked by like 5 times already,” Tachihara says.

“Are you sure?” Gin asks.

“Why does it matter? We’re in public,” Higuchi says. “People are going to walk by.”

“I know it’s definitely her because, I mean, look at her. Of course I noticed her.”

You pretend like you don’t notice when several curious heads turn your way.

“God, she’s hot,” Chuuya says, whistling under his breath. “Fucking Christ, those thighs.”

“Hey, I saw her first,” Tachihara says, while the others roll their eyes and tell the two to quiet down.

“I’d offer to share, but if I get a piece of that ass, it’s fucking mine.”

“Jesus Christ, Chuuya, you’ve had too much to drink already.”

“We’ve been here 20 minutes, I’ve barely had one glass!” he says defensively.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance if you’re so interested?” Akutagawa asks, disinterested but amused at the notion of Chuuya making a fool of himself.

“Nah,” he says, waving his hand at his group. “A hot piece of ass like that you’ve gotta chase a little. I’ve gotta buy her a drink, maybe, then ask her to dance later, then lay on the charm.”

“You’re a real ladies man, Chuuya,” Tachihara says sarcastically.

The conversation gradually turns to something else. You let it drift away since your focus isn’t exactly on them anymore, it’s suddenly on the pulsing desire burning in your crotch. “Holy shit,” you think. “Chuuya wants to fuck me so bad he’s making stupid ass plans for it.” Honestly, he could hit it any day of the week if he’d just ask, but he’s never seemed too interested in you at work. “This is what does it for him, I guess,” you think, downing the rest of your drink. You then decide to grab his attention again by stretching a little, arching your back and raising your arms over your head to make your cropped cardigan and your tube top expose a bit of your belly. It’s not a lot, but for someone already desperate to see more of you, it works.

“Fucking hell,” Chuuya mutters under his breath, eyes on you. You make eye contact with him and wink, and when he smirks instead of looking away, you run your hand up your thigh, pulling your short skirt up even higher. His eyebrows raise, giving you a look like “oh yeah?” and you smile. 

“His move,” you think, using your other hand to twirl your empty glass around a little bit. Chuuya excuses himself from the group and goes to the bar quickly.

You’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.

It’s then that the worst thing happens. Higuchi’s phone rings, then Gin’s, and Tachihara’s, and Akutagawa’s, and Chuuya’s, and yours. It’s an emergency alert from the PM. You’re all being called in, and you need to be there fast. You’re only a couple of blocks from the office. All of your coworkers will be there in less than 10 minutes. You don’t have time to go home and change. You have to go right now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss under your breath, getting up and rushing for the door before the others do. Maybe if you get out ahead of them they won’t notice you--

“God dammit,” Chuuya groans. “I was just about to get her a fuckin’ drink.”

“She’s running out, too,” Higuchi points out.

“It’s weird that she’s going in the same direction as us, right?” Tachihara asks, unsure.

“There are a lot of other things out this way, dumbass,” Chuuya says.

Then you take a left, and the group takes a left. They get closer, and you try to walk faster.

Then you take a right, and they take a right. Then you approach the PM headquarter building.

“What the fuck?” Chuuya asks, rushing forward to try to stop you at the door, but you rush inside as soon as the door opens a crack.

“Hey!” Tachihara calls, rushing in after you. You hit the button to call an elevator, but realize the only available one is several floors away. You’re cornered. The jig is up.

Fuck.

“Heeeey,” you say, slowly turning around to greet the group as they gather. “Any of you know what the emergency is? I’m wondering if it’s about the Detective Agency’s involvement in our failed gun import. I was just telling Akutagawa-san yesterday that I had a feeling they’d end up losing the guns to some other organization stealing them before the Detectives could decide whether to turn us in over it.”

“Oh my god,” Higuchi gasps.

“It’s [Y/N],” Gin says.

“What?!” Chuuya and Tachihara both say, and Akutagawa is the only one to stay focused.

“It likely is exactly that,” he says. “Your foresight is spot on as usual.”

“What’s with this outfit?!” Higuchi asks, feeling your cardigan and grabbing the hem of your skirt. “It’s so short! Why are you dressed like this? You were at the same bar as us!”

“This is how I dress on my days off,” you answer honestly, shrugging. The elevator doors finally open and you all start to file in. “And yes, I’m well aware we were at the same bar,” you say, glancing at Chuuya as he shuffles past you. His cheeks blaze and his eyes lock onto the ground, refusing to meet your gaze.

So that’s how it is.

The emergency meeting goes on for two tense hours. It’s exactly what you and Akutagawa thought it would be about, and your group, as well as other Mafia and specifically Black Lizard leaders and members discuss action plans, potential repercussions, and viable reconnaissance missions. When Mori finally announces that you all deserve a break and that you’re meet again in an hour, you’re the first to get up and leave the room, feeling embarrassed to be in a work situation in your fun outfit.

Several footsteps follow you into the hallway, but they all patter off in different directions after a turn here, a turn there.

Only one set of steps follows you into the stairwell. It’s quiet, with very light steps, but you know it’s there thanks to your impeccable hearing.

The same footsteps follow you down two floors, three, four, five…

You feel like you’re being chased, but you think you know exactly who it is, and so the chase is more exciting than it is scary.

You finally get to the floor that your office is on and leave the stairwell. You walk quickly to your office, go in but leave the door cracked, and to test your theory that you’re being followed, you “accidentally” drop your phone after walking a few feet inside. You slowly bend over, letting your short skirt rise up over the curve of your ass, completely exposing your fishnet-covered ass and black thong to anyone who may be standing at the door. You grab your phone slowly, give a cheeky shake of your butt, then stand back up.

Your office door clicks closed behind you, and the lock engages loudly.

“That show for me?” Chuuya asks. You turn to find him leaning against your door. A quick glance down shows you that he’s already at least half-hard in his pants.

“Who else?” you ask softly, leaning against the edge of the desk. It’s cold on your mostly bare ass, but you act cool, crossing one ankle over the other. Your legs look long and sexy stretched out in front of you, and you can tell that Chuuya thinks so too because he can’t stop looking at them.

“It’s a shame we were called away,” you say to break the tension. “I was looking forward to that drink.”

“Were you?” he asks, slowly walking toward you. His hands are deep in his pockets like usual, always acting calm and cool. The look in his eye is different than normal, though. It’s hungry. “Nice to know.”

“You know, you’re not as forward as I thought you’d be,” you admit, leaning back on your hands. You’re on full display for him now. “I half expected you to be all over me as soon as you closed that door.”

“Tell me to leave,” he says, finally standing toe to toe with you. “Tell me to get the fuck out otherwise I will be all over you.”

“Why would I tell you to get the fuck out when I could tell you to come the fuck on already?”

Chuuya makes a noise between a moan and a growl and leaps forward, standing so both of his legs are over yours. He grabs your face with both of his hands and pulls you in for a hot, hard kiss. It’s all tongue and nipping at each other’s lips and hot panting into each other’s mouths.

Your hands shamelessly roam his body once you’ve sat up to meet him. You push his jackets back off of his shoulders so it falls onto the ground. You feel his muscular back and shoulders and arms. You slide your hands lower, feeling his sides and hips. You start messing with his belt by the time he even realizes he can touch you back.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he pants, yanking at your cardigan so you take it off. “Honestly good that you don’t fucking dress like this at work,” he says, yanking your tube top down too so your breasts are exposed. “I’d be fucking you every time I fucking see you.” He gropes your tits, squeezing them and massaging them in his hands. He tweaks your perked nipples, rolling them between his fingers, making them hard and sensitive. 

“Chuuya,” you whine, “why don’t you suck on them if you like them so much?” He looks up at you and smirks, temporarily grabbing you by the hips to push you further back on your desk so you can lay down comfortably. Once you’re flat he climbs on top, knees on either side of your hips, and leans down to your chest. He licks wet stripes across your tit, teasing your nipple with his tongue. He kisses open-mouthed around your boob, refusing to give you what you really want until you finally whine and shift under him, then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and keeps steady pressure on it for several seconds until finally releasing it with a wet smacking sound. He gives the other breast a similar treatment, teasing and sucking and licking. You reach a hand up into his hair, gently moaning his name while you card your fingers through.

He starts grinding his hard-on against your lower belly, just above your crotch given the way that he’s kneeled over you. You whimper and push your hips up, trying to meet him as he grinds. He’s thoroughly attached to your breasts, playing with one nipple while sucking on the other, trading, kissing, sucking hickies onto them. He works a stream of moans and pants and whines from you, getting you to moan his name several times, which makes him grind down onto you harder.

Finally, his hand leaves your chest and trails down your body, his slightly calloused fingers feeling rough on your soft skin. Chuuya flips your short skirt up, wasting no time in cupping your still-clothed cunt and stroking his fingers over it.

“God damn, you’re wet already,” he says, shifting so his face is against your neck.

“You’re fucking hot,” you admit, tugging on his hair. He bites not-so-gently, leaving an instant red and purple hickey on a very obvious spot. His fingers slowly spread, coming together again almost squeezing your pussy lips together. He does it again after you moan in his ear, adding more pressure to tease you with, and again, but this time his fingers dip under your panties and bunch the fabric up together. He pulls it up, several inches higher than your body, making the fabric squeeze in between your lips, leaving it pressing against your clit.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, chuckling when you grind up against his hand and your own panties, seeking stimulation. “That why you’re letting me touch your cunt? ‘Cause you think I’m hot?”

“Yeah,” you whine, still grinding upward. It’s working, your movements are giving you little shocks of pleasure as the damp fabric drags across your clit and also teases your pussy somewhat. “I’d let you fuck me too.” Your voice is breathy and unsteady, and Chuuya can tell just from the sound of it that you’re getting really worked up.

“I don’t know, doll,” he says, hovering over you by one hand pressed against the desk beside your head. “I kind of like the view watching you fuck yourself on my hand.”

“It’s not really ‘on your hand’ without your fingers in me.” You could swear that his eyes light up.

“What was that?” He teases you again, drifting his fingers over the extremely sensitive skin of your pussy. “Did you say something--” he dips a finger past your lips just enough to hook around your panties and pull them back, pushing them to the side-- “about my fingers?”

“Fucking tease,” you huff, reaching down to grab his hand, but he becomes an immovable force when you try to push his hand further down. “Oh and that stupid fucking ability of yours.” He laughs at that and tsks at you.

“You’ve got a dirty fuckin’ mouth,” he says. “Maybe you need something good in there to clean it out.” He gets off the desk and unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and kicks them to the floor. You sit up to see him in just his black underwear and white t-shirt, palming himself through the fabric. “C’mere and suck this dick.”

You obey, getting onto the ground with shaky thighs. He’d gotten you more worked up than you realized, and knowing yourself, sucking his dick is not going to calm you down, it’s going to get you closer to the edge.

You pull his boxers down and he steps out of them. His cock is thick and longer than your fist when you close it around his shaft. You give him a few pumps, spreading some pre-cum down his length, before leaning forward with an open mouth to take him in greedily. You start bobbing your head immediately, trying to take as much of him as possible. He stretches your mouth more than anyone else ever has, and you have a feeling your jaw is gonna get sore if you do this for too long.

Chuuya grabs fistfulls of your hair and uses it to guide you back and forth, setting a quicker pace than you already were. He works up to fucking your mouth, using your head like a sex toy. His tip bounces off the back of your throat multiple times, and you have to focus really hard on not gagging. You get messy, letting spit and drool fall out of the corners of your mouth. Tears also spring up in your eyes from him fucking your throat, but you don’t even try to stop them from falling. Your eyeliner is waterproof, but your mascara isn’t, so some black streaks may fall down your cheeks, but you don’t care. You honestly kind of want to see the fucked out look on your face when this is all over.

“You’re too good at this,” Chuuya moans. “Fucking cockslut, aren’t you? Gonna be my slut now, huh? Gonna let me fuck your throat some more, right? Whenever I want?”

You hum around him but can’t exactly nod given his cock in your mouth. He gets it though, and he also moans when you hum as the vibrations go straight into his sensitive tip when it touches the back of your mouth.

“Gonna cum in your mouth,” he grunts, “gonna make you eat it all.”

You try to shake your head, pushing back on his thighs, whining.

“No?” he asks, slowing down and stopping. “Why not, doll?” He lets you back up, finally letting go of your hair.

“That’s a waste,” you croak out, then clear your throat and try to make the fucked-out sound go away. “If you don’t bend me over my desk and fuck me until I scream I’m never fucking touching you again.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” he says excitedly, reaching down for your arms. He picks you up effortlessly thanks to his ability, and for some reason that really does it for you. You moan just from that touch, feeling your pussy throb. Then he turns you around, pushes you down onto your desk, and smacks your ass hard. You yelp and then moan as he rubs the sting out.

“Where do you want me to cum? On your back?”

“In my cunt, dumbass.”

“Geez, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” he hisses, squeezing one hand around the base of his cock while the other swings and spanks you again. “And it’s so fucking hot.” He spanks you again. He refuses to tell you he felt his orgasm building from you telling him to cum inside, though his brain is being overrun by that thought now.

He flips your skirt up and rubs his hands on your ass, squeezing your cheeks and gently smacking them to make them jiggle.

“Are you having fun?” you ask him, earning another hard spank, which you moan loudly in response to, a fun smirk on your face. “I kinda like that,” you coo, wiggling your hips back toward him. “Spank me again, Chuuya-san. I’ve been very, very bad.” 

He spanks you hard and you yelp, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you moan softly, torn between pleasure and pain. “You’re an asshole.” He spanks you again on the other cheek. “Will you fuck me already, asshole?”

“I would if you’d stop being a bitch.”

“Maybe you’ve gotta fuck the bitch out of me,” you say, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “You’ll never know until you try.”

“Amen,” he says flippantly, pulling your panties to the side again to make sure they’re still out of his way. He rubs his fingers over your wet pussy, dipping between the folds but never into your vagina. He spreads your wetness all over your folds, as if it wasn’t there already, but then he huffs and you hear a slight ripping.

“What was that?” you ask, turning to him.

“Stupid fucking lines are in my way.”

“Lines? My fishnets? You did not just rip my tights, you fucking douche.”

“So what if I did?” he asks, stroking himself with your wet.

“Are you serious? You fucking a-- ohhh, fuck!” You try to insult him again but get cut off by his thick cock skewering you in one swift movement. You’re so wet and ready that he slides straight in, your walls stretching to fit around his girth.

“Fuuuuuck,” he moans, throwing his head back as he bottoms out. “Your bitch pussy is the best shit I’ve ever felt, I swear to god,” he says, grabbing both sides of your hips as he withdraws and then snaps his hips forward again. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Oh, shit, Chuuyaaa,” you whine, voice going high and strained. “You’re so big, what the fuck? What the-- fuuuck,” you moan as he sets a pace, hips snapping forward every second, filling the room with wet fucking sounds and the smack of his heavy balls against your thighs.

“I’ve gotta fuckin’ see you,” he says after only a minute, backing out of you. You grunt and groan, glaring at him over your shoulder until he once again grabs you with that ability of his and moves you around like you weigh nothing. He has you on your side, one leg hanging off the desk, the other hooked over his shoulder, and then he teases your pussy with the head of his cock, dragging it back and forth, up and down your lips, pushing in only near your clit, not near your hole.

“Chuuya, please,” you sigh, reaching down toward where your bodies meet, but he grabs your hand and pins it to the desk. “Please fuck me, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” he asks cheekily, moving his hips as if thrusting, only letting his cock rub between your pussy lips.

“Don’t tease me,” you pant, trying to squirm your hips. “Put your cock back in me, now.”

“Now?” he asks, playing dumb.

“Now,” you insist. He rubs his tip against your clit.

“What about now?”

“Stop teasing me!”

“You know, that’s no way to ask for a favor,” he says. “Maybe I’ll just walk away. Then what would you do? Fuck yourself on your fingers?”

“I’ll find Akutagwa,” you huff, trying to loosen your hand from his grasp. He barks out a laugh, whole body shaking for a moment.

“Akutagawa?! He wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy like this, babe,” he smirks, finally moving his tip back toward your hole. “You really don’t think he could fuck you like I can, right?”

“What if I do?” You try to keep sounding tough, but the brat is being teased out of you, and you really, really want to be fucked dumb on his cock right now. “Maybe-- ahhh--” Chuuya enters you slowly, smirking down at you and the way your eyes roll back before fluttering closed. 

“Maybe what?” Chuuya asks, bottoming out.

“Maybe-- Akutagawa--” you stutter as Chuuya pulls back and snaps his hips forward again, spearing your g-spot as if he was locked on target.

“Akutagawa?” he asks, trying to lead you on as he slowly builds his pace. You try to babble something out, but as he starts properly fucking you, leaning over you and holding your leg up so he can press you into the desk, you just can’t think of anything except for Chuuya.

“Chuuya-- Chuuya-- Oh, fuck, right there-- Ohh, Chuuya!”

The sound alone is enough to make someone blush, your wet pussy gushing around him every time he goes balls deep, his body pressing against yours, getting wet and precum and sweat all over each other's crotches. You both get lost in it, moaning and swearing and giving stupid empath threats to each other.

“You better make me cum,” you say to him, and he responds “You better stop being such a bitch when I make this pussy squirt.”

He starts palming your tits again when he gets close, panting and fucking you as quickly as he can.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. You sure I can bust inside?” he manages to ask through his panting.

“Yes,” you moan, “oh fuck yeah. Cum in this pussy, daddy.”

“Daddy?!” he asks, and that’s what does it. You caught him so off guard that his whole body jerks and he hunches over you, cumming a big, hot load into your cunt. His face is burning red, and some sweat drips down his forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth dropped open, a tiny bit of drool about to sneak out the corner of his mouth. “Fucking bitch,” he says, but it’s so high pitched and tense that it makes you laugh. Your pussy involuntarily contracts when you laugh, and your whole body slightly jiggles under him, and it makes him yelp and moan again, long and drawn out. “God damn,” he whines, pulling back as if he’s going to back out now.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, trying to stop him by the leg that’s thrown over his shoulder. “You didn’t make me cum yet. You’re not done here, Chuuya.”

“I’m not but my dick is,” he says, still kind of whiny. “I think you just sucked me dry, I really fucking think you did.” You can’t help but to laugh a little more as he lowers your leg and rolls you onto your back. “It’s only polite--” he says, dropping to his knees “--that I return the favor.” In a flash his tongue is on your pussy, lapping up his cum as it spills out of you. He swallows it without comment, and keeps lapping at your pussy, dipping his tongue into your hole while it’s still nice and open from his cock. You run your hand through his hair again, making sure he can’t pull back too far. You want his whole face in your cunt and you aren’t letting up on this. 

His fingers join his mouth, taking over for his tongue in prodding at your hole. They slip inside, twisting together at the same time as they pull in and out. He teases your g-spot every time this way, and the side of his fingers on your sensitive walls feels so so good. You start moaning his name when his tongue swirls around your clit, working relentless circles on it. He intersperses little sucks on it, and once he even dips his nose down and uses it to rub your clit since it’s a bit firmer than his tongue. He eats you out like an absolute fucking champ, shaking his head and blowing out to give you slight vibrating sensations, suckling to give you quick peaks of stimulation, and flicking his tongue back and forth and rolling it in circles to build your orgasm up higher and higher and higher until finally.

“Oh god, Chuuya-- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-- oohhhh Chuuya!!” Your back arches up, your fists close tightly in his hair, and you force his face into your pussy as you cum on his mouth and his fingers, rolling your hips to meet his touches. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps letting you use him as your orgasm rolls and rolls and finally starts to patter out. Only when you let go of his hair does he sit upright, pull his fingers out of you, and suck your cum off of his fingers.

“You’re a lot of fun, you know that?” he asks, standing up, stretching his somewhat sore muscles.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you sigh happily. Your whole body feels weightless and blissful and you aren’t ready to get up yet, even as Chuuya starts getting dressed.

“You dress like this often?”

“Every day off,” you say, finally having enough energy to at least pull your tube top back up to cover your breasts.

“Good. You should come see me again then.”

“You came to see me. And yes, you should come see me again.” You sit up, tilting your head and smiling mischievously at him.

“Guess I didn’t fuck the brat out of you yet,” he mumbles, reaching up to grab your jaw in his hand. “Next time then.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

[n3ptoonz]

i totally forgot i was supposed to write a wedding with bi han and reader so-

part 2/continuation to my fic "That Can Be Arranged" if you're new and haven't read that already, i'd hope you do!

a proper wedding blurb with bi han

nsfw/explicit content below the cut, fluff elements, pre-lin kuei split, bi han in even more love, you both waited until marriage, he definitely wants kids, honeymoon ;p

dt: @aceengg @yumeko0nitgh

your wedding was beautiful. seeing his typically stern expression melt away, all soft as soon as you walked through those doors in that gorgeous dress tailored specifically for you almost had you sobbing like a baby. it was the first time anybody had ever seen him crack a genuine smile that wasn't in response to winning a fight. the flaming hoops you two had to leap through just for this day would make anybody give up, but with the pride bi han has, there was no way he was going to let it all go to waste.

the ceremony was just right in time length. even with all the people and decorations and planning that went into everything, it didn't take too long for kuai liang to wed you two, have some fun with the clan, and tomas sending you off somewhere safe for your honeymoon. the town was small, but honestly it was perfect. nobody would know you here and you got to roam freely for a while. well, until you finally settled in the hotel.

the two of you made the right decision to wait until marriage, because the way he cradled you in his arms and at the same time had you gasping for air was truly something you never expected from him. even though you got to better know each other over these last few months, you never thought him to be the kind of man to purposely leave possessively placed hickeys all over you neck while thrusting into you like a man starved.

"i love you so much." he kept whispering. sometimes he'd even change paces to savor the moment; the sight and feeling of you clinging onto him and scratching his back as you bite into his shoulder so you don't wake everyone in the hotel up. he also knew that the both of you would be quite sensitive to this act since you both were virgins. shit, he could've fooled you thinking he's never been balls deep inside someone before. but that wasn't who he was. if he was going to engage with someone like this, there will be a real connection. bi han is madly in love with you.

though you found out quickly that he also wants children. plural. that intentionally drawn out groan he let out pumping you full of his cum and the sparkle in his eyes upon him seeing it spill out of your body-- which he seriously can't get enough of, it was kind of hard trying to commit to waiting--made you squirm with delight.

and these next nine months, trust, you will be thoroughly taken care of.

[dreamingofep]

Merry Christmas, Baby🎄💋

A/n: Here’s a smutty little Christmas blurb 🤭 I’m incapable of writing anything short, sweet and to the point so this will have to do! I wrote this with 1970’s E in mind but I also thought about Vampire!E too (of course) so picture what ever Elvis era you want. Merry Christmas 🎁

Word count: 1.6k

Tw: SMUTT, some cuteness

December 24th, 1970

The twinkling lights on the Christmas tree softly lit the living room. You were content sitting on the couch by yourself, enjoying the fire and the murmur of conversation through the house. Elvis was around mingling with everyone and being a good host. You were glad the night was settling down, you wanted to spend time with just him. This was your first Christmas together and wanted to make it special.

All the presents were unwrapped, food was eaten, and the house was decorated to the nines. You didn’t want the season to end if this was how Graceland looked. It always looked beautiful but something about the Christmas glow of the house made it even more remarkable.

You turn your attention to the dining room and feel your heart flutter at the sight of him. Lord, he was stunning, no amount of time with him would make you immune to his good looks. Especially the way he was looking at you tonight. It didn’t help that you were teasing him to no end throughout the night. You were begging him to make love to you before the party began and he wanted to make you wait. You didn’t like that and would make it your mission to make him crumble for you. You’d kiss him on the neck, something he couldn’t denounce, or stroke his thigh with your hand, getting dangerously close to his crotch.

That look in his eyes was dangerous now. That’s a look you’ve gotten when he’s about to ravage you. You can’t handle that thought with so many people around. His gaze doesn’t waver and only intensifies.

Like you were the only thing he wanted as he subtly licks his bottom lip. You hold your breath and look down, praying he doesn’t see how you’re coming unglued by him already.

You nervously take a sip of your drink and set it down on the coffee table. You’re about to glance over at him again but someone’s voice has you distracted.

“EP, play us something before we leave!”

You look at Elvis and see him give a cute, cheeky little smile. He gets up from his seat at the dining room table and straightens out his shirt.

“Sure, why not,” he grins.

Everyone gets all excited and starts to funnel into the living room area where you were. You get up and offer your seat to someone. You want to be as close as possible to him and take a seat on the couch by the piano. Before he takes a seat at the piano bench, he picks you up and gives you a much-needed kiss. It left you breathless and a bit startled by the passion of it. He sits you back down and goes to the piano.

He plays a couple of chords to warm up, humming to himself to get in key.

Merry, Merry Christmas baby

You sure did treat me nice…

The low, sultriness makes your whole body freeze. Oh, you knew what he was doing, he was trying to tease you. Try to make your cheeks burn and get you uncomfortable in front of everyone.

You lean back against the sofa and look at him with a lustful gaze. He looked damn good and you were sure he knew it. He wore all white today and the whole outfit was tailored to fit him perfectly. You watch those long fingers dance along the keys, making the piano play in perfect tune.

You look back up to his face and see he’s wearing a smug smile, probably proud of himself for seeing how he’s got you feeling.

I said Merry Christmas baby

You sure did treat me nice

He sings that last line and turns slightly over his shoulder to look at you, his eyes drinking in your crossed legs. You feel your heart gallop at that one singular look.

Completely weak.

You could not look at him for a second longer.

Well, I wanna kiss you, baby

He took his time on that last line, smugly smiling and chuckling softly. Clearly not thinking of just kissing you.

He plays a few more songs and your guests start to leave. You say your goodbyes and make your way upstairs, needing to gain back your composure before being alone with Elvis. You quickly make it to the bathroom and see your weakened demeanor.

Your cheeks were flushed and your heart still raced by the thought of him. Damn it he has you so weak and he loves it.

You hear the bedroom door open and you try to straighten yourself out.

“Baby?” His deep voice rang out in the quiet room.

“Yeah I’m here,” you say nonchalantly.

He turns the corner and smiles at you, nodding his head approvingly.

“Mmm, just as I had thought,” he says coyly.

“What?”

“Pink little cheeks,” he says low, caressing your face, “probably thinking about somethin’ naughty in that head of yours.”

“I would never while there are guests around,” you quip.

His hands trail down to your hips and squeeze there. You lean into his body, loving his hands on you and sighing.

“Let me put some naughty ideas in there then,” he taunts. He lifts you onto the counter and spreads your legs, leaving enough room for him to stand in between. His lips cover your neck in kisses, sending a bolt of electricity through you. Your arms wrap around his neck, almost instinctively now, and try to pull him closer if that is humanly possible. He kisses you so intensely and his hands are igniting the fire inside you.

You moan breathlessly into his mouth, craving more of him than you thought. You wanted to feel more of his warm skin and your fingers frantically worked the buttons off his shirt. You quickly get it off his body and pull the sleeves down. His hands move quickly too and easily find the zipper on the back of your dress. He peels it off of you and you lift your hips up to get the dress completely off your body.

Your hands are back on each other and kissing each other like you never have before. It felt perfect. You both knew exactly what you needed before uttering a word. He momentarily takes his hands off of you and you hear him working his belt off of his hips. You look down and watch as he unzips his fly and lets his pants fall to the ground. Your cheeks redden more as you look at his length.

Oh God, you needed him. You needed him so badly.

You look back up at his face with needy eyes and he swears a little smirk on his lips.

“What are you thinking about now?” He asks.

“How much I want you. Why?” You try to say holding it together.

“Mhmm good. I’m thinking the same thing,” he says as he rubs the tip of his cock through your wet slit. You groan at the friction and wrap your arms around his neck again.

He pulls your hips forward on the counter so you’re more on the edge and he lines himself to your entrance. He slowly pushes himself inside you and groans as he feels you squeeze around him. You scratch at his back, pleasure searing through you as he slowly pumps his cock in and out of you.

He takes you slowly, holding onto your body tightly and murmuring how good you feel. His lips cover your neck in kisses, surely leaving marks there to remind each other what you did tonight. You do the same to him, making him buck his hips into you harder if you nip him. You quietly cry his name as your release builds. He loves hearing how good you’re feeling and how you want more.

His hand drifts down to where you’re connected and he finds your swollen bud. You squeeze his bicep when he does this and look at him in shock. It felt good but you were so sensitive, on the brink of cumming already.

“So good baby, you feel so good,” he growls into your ear. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and gravelly in your ear. It sends shock waves through you. Hearing how much he is enjoying this makes you want to give more to him. You lean away from his body to look at his face and you see his eyes gazing at the reflection in the mirror.

His heated eyes meet yours once more and he’s breathing heavier, fucking you harder than before.

“I love you, I love us,” he breathes. All you can do is whimper in agreement. With his cock stuffed inside you and his fingers rubbing your clit, you feel yourself about to go over the edge.

You hold onto him tighter, feeling your orgasm loom and get even closer.

“Elvis oh God,” you cry out.

“Good baby, takin’ me so well. All fuckin’ mine,” he growls.

Your body tenses and your core flutters, unable to hold back your release any longer. You squeeze around him and whimper in ecstasy, feeling as though you’ve been shot into the stratosphere. He groans heavily as he tries to fuck you at the same pace but he can’t. He’s close too and you feel too good to stop him from coming.

He holds onto your body tight and buries his face in your neck, whimpering your name. You feel his hot release pour into you and you both are a sweaty, sticky mess. He moves slowly as you both are coming down for your highs. Your entrance was overly sensitive after all of that and he was too.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you.”

“Merry Christmas Baby,” he says low and sultry like at the piano.

“Mmm, my new favorite Christmas song,” you tease.

•

•

•

Tagging:

@loving-elvis @neptuneismysister@velvetelvis @ccab @theresalwaysep

@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley@chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley@cattcb@annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen

[kiivg]

Your Rook is ridiculously good looking. Like, I’m actually blushing and it’s all your fault

.The initial idea for him was Grave Robbing Pirate and honestly the beard options came through for me like nothing else. Guaranteed I was going to go for muttonchops/sideburns before I even knew what the CC looked like, but idk they looked a little patchy sometimes and that is NOT what Farid is about 👏 The whatever it is he has now is iconic for him, I tried making him as an elf but it was Cursed and Never-to-Be-Seen-Again. Also the balding ponytail? I saw it, and I was like yeah that’s it, that’s him, that’s exactly what I’m about.

.Also it is absolutely insane to me that he’s the first draft, I got him in one go with a little fine tuning once I figured out how the CC works. Especially considering how ugly Goddard turned out as the Inquisitor 😭😭 but now I HC he just sends somebody over in his place to act as a go between, ain’t no way he’s traipsing around with Morrigan lmao. I did make a crummy Blackwall Inq so I could get Dorian to call him Amatus 👹 Pavwall Canon UNLOCKED. (I wonder if you could make the Iron Bull tho?? Sans wide horns ofc.)

.Also, girlie, tysm!!!!!! I am ALSO very 👀😳🥴🤫🫡 about him, I’ve just started my third playthrough of him, I’m still tweaking little bits here and there as I go along. Which means ofc I’m going to be screenshotting him in every cutscene 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️.

.Edit tho I’ve changed his name to Farid now 😘.

.Some facts about my Rook, Farid Thorne, and his story below 💕🫡.

.His mother is Therasia Thorne, a Rivaini Dalish elf who left her clan for the calling of the sea, and he is an absolute mama’s boy. Will do absolutely anything she asks with very little, if any, questioning. He doesn’t know (and most likely never will) who his father is, as the man bought Therasia’s silence over their affair with two galleons and a frigate. On a side note, Therasia was known for seducing very rich men and getting pregnant in order to blackmail them. Most of the time the fathers would pay up, and there has only been one instance of the father agreeing to take the baby off her hands, her bluff was called and she regretfully left her son behind.

.He adores expensive textures, silk, dragon scales, gold, fine lace, alamarri sheep wool, phoenix feathers. If he wasn’t a career criminal turned conscript he would have been a tailor. He owns (or used to own) several dresses/robes that he would just lounge about in naked to feel the fabric against his skin. Doesn’t really think too much of leather though, it can be stiff and often chafes the skin, which is strange because he’s very much a rope man.

.He waxes most of his body hair off, and keeps everything nice and tidy. He also puts coloured powder in his open wounds to preserve the shape of them as they heal, true to his mother’s traditions.

.Has kept his face completely bare of tattoos (apart from the fish he got when he was fourteen) in an honour to his Dalish heritage; he knows he won’t ever get valaslin because he’s only a half-elf, but the prospect of it keeps his face bare.

.Is fascinated by machinery and spent a great deal of time perfecting his own tools. His own frigate was equipped with self made trident ballistas, each one would fire three harpoons (individually or all at once) secured with thick chains, crafted to hunt and bring down large game, dragons, and smaller fleeing ships.

.In tune with his love for crafting, he follows June, and not the Maker. Though he does keep this to himself and those he considers family. If asked he just says he doesn’t believe in the Maker, and refuses to elaborate.

.Absolutely fucks, big family kind of guy. He is one of nineteen children, and has nine of his own by five different women, though he assumes there’s more because he was very much a leave before the sunrise kind of guy. Now he’s matured with being in the Wardens and has been less of a dick about it all. Whether or not he’s got any chance of knowing those kids who knows 🤷‍♂️.

.Never told anyone about his past when he became a Warden, the only people who know are those who were privy to his conscription, and the higher up Wardens upon receiving his arrest and conscription reports. Most people know he’s a conscript however, he doesn’t shy away from that, and he’s had a dozen or more rumours spread about him within the order. Evka was the first person to say he was a good Warden and back him up, and I think that solidified him as a third wheel to her and Antoine.

.He was actually conscripted by order of my HoF Andrastopher Cousland, as a favour returned. Andrastopher wanted aboard his ship when the Inquisition was seeking out a new leader,(there was no way he was becoming a religious figurehead lmao) and he stayed there for a good six months or so before Zevran joined them, and another two months before returning back to Thedas. They… uh… yeah 🥴🤫.

.If he was a companion his questline would probably follow trying to kill his older brother Galo after receiving a plea for help from his sister in law Aadiyah. Turns out Galo is either a) helping the Antaam navigate the seas uncontested or b) capturing and selling slaves to the Venatori. The big question at the end would be whether to tell their daughter that he’s her dad or to let her believe Galo was her father considering he HAS just murdered him, and she has several siblings that Galo fathered too.

.His gift would be an ornamental smoking pipe or a hookah, his room would be an observatory, full of navigational maps and constellations, there would be a small tailors work bench on one side of the room complete with mannequin and a sewn outfit that would slowly complete over his personal questline. His bed would be a row boat full of pillows.

.His almost kiss scene would be him explaining that he’s no good, his past actions are very much coming to bite him in the ass, and that you should really stop flirting with him. Does he want you to stop? No. Is he going to lean in to try and kiss you? Yes. Is he going to remember that everything is playing out as it does before and pull away because he knows he’s not good enough for you? Yes.

.His romance lock in scene would be stargazing on the beach in Rivain, he’d point out a couple constellations, talk about his time seafaring (minus all the murdering and pillaging). You’d get the option to ask about a few different ones (leading to locking out of the romance) or a secret fourth one and he’d absolutely bullshit some made up romantic story that parallels him and you, and you’d call bullshit because YES it is bullshit, and he’d say something awfully sappy about making it “our constellation” and then ���💋💋.

.The actual romance scene would be that he turns up completely naked in your room, he’ll ask if you want the Captain or the Warden, and you uh choose and uh ye a hh haha ahaaaaa 😳🥴.

[milunalupin]

— nine ladies dancing

cedric diggory x reader ★ 1.1k words

twelve days of nico-mas masterlist

The Yule Ball was in full swing. The enchanted ceiling twinkled with the soft light of a thousand stars, casting a shimmering glow across the elegantly dressed students. The soft murmur of chatter filled the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the melodic strains of the orchestra.

Cedric Diggory, already a striking figure in his tailored dress robes, surveyed the room with a familiar sense of calm. He had been looking forward to this night—primarily because of one person. You.

He had been anticipating the moment he could finally make his way over to you all evening, but there had been a small hiccup: the ever-growing line of girls eager to dance with him. He had no intention of spending the night fending off admirers, but somehow, that’s exactly what happened.

As Cedric made his way toward you, his brown eyes scanning the crowd, he felt an insistent tap on his shoulder. He turned and smiled politely at a fourth-year Hufflepuff girl.

"Would you like to dance, Cedric?"

The smile was tight, but Cedric was nothing if not a gentleman.

"Of course, but I’ve promised the next dance to someone already."

She pouted but moved away, only to be replaced by a much bolder Gryffindor sixth-year who grabbed his arm with surprising force.

“You promised me the first dance, Cedric!” the girl insisted, her voice firm but teasing.

“Sorry, I—” Cedric began, but she didn’t let him finish before pulling him toward the center of the ballroom.

And so it continued. Cedric found himself caught in a whirlwind of unwanted attention—one after another—girls vying for his time, each with their own excuses for why they “just had to” dance with him. He politely declined as best as he could, but the line of hopeful faces just kept growing.

There was the Ravenclaw who had somehow mistaken him for a partner to a waltz, the third-year Hufflepuff who had a thing for him ever since they shared a Herbology class, and the daring Slytherin who insisted that he owed her a dance after a particularly awkward encounter in the library a few weeks back.

By the time Cedric finally reached the edge of the ballroom, his robe slightly askew and his hair a bit more disheveled than when he’d started, he was nearly at his wit's end. He scanned the crowd for you and caught sight of your brilliant smile, which immediately made everything else fade away.

You were standing near the edge of the floor, arms crossed and eyes twinkling with amusement as you watched his endless parade of unwanted dance partners. He smiled, relieved that he’d finally made it.

But of course, the universe had other plans.

Just as he was about to reach you, another girl—this time a tall, striking seventh-year from Beauxbatons—stepped into his path.

“Cedric,” she cooed, “I don’t think you’ve danced with me yet. Shall we?”

“I’d love to, but there’s someone I have to—” He barely managed to get the words out before you appeared, stepping gracefully between him and his would-be dance partner.

"Looks like you’ve made quite the impression," you teased, arching an eyebrow, your voice light but unmistakably amused.

The Beauxbatons girl blinked in surprise, realizing, all too late, that Cedric’s attention had already been claimed. With a flick of her perfectly styled hair, she gave Cedric a disappointed glance before flouncing off into the crowd.

You turned to him with a mischievous grin. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten all about me,” you said, your arms crossing in mock annoyance. “How many girls did you dance with before finally making your way over here?”

Cedric chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I lost count after the fifth one.”

“Well, well,” you said, looking him up and down, feigning seriousness, “I suppose I’ll have to fight for your attention then.”

"Careful," Cedric said, his tone teasing but warm, "I don't want you locked away instead of cheering me on in the next challenge."

You stepped closer, eyes twinkling. “Oh, I don’t know… you seem like you can handle a little challenge on your own."

Before Cedric could respond, you caught the corner of your eye—the next girl in line, a fourth-year Gryffindor, was already heading toward him with a hopeful look on her face.

You raised an eyebrow. “Another one?”

Cedric sighed dramatically, already bracing himself. “I swear, it's like they think I’m Hogwart's most eligible bachelor or something.”

“Oh, I see,” you teased, voice low. “So, I’m just one of many, am I?”

Cedric’s eyes widened, and before he could protest, you spun away from him with a little flourish, arms held out. “Alright, then. Go ahead. Dance with her. I’m sure she’s been waiting her turn for ages.”

He blinked in surprise. “Wait, no—”

But before Cedric could chase after you, the fourth-year girl was already pulling him onto the dance floor, leaving you standing with your arms crossed and a playful smirk.

Cedric sighed in defeat but gave the girl a brief, polite bow as they moved into position, keeping his eyes on you over her shoulder. You hadn’t budged, your posture relaxed but obviously amused.

The dance wasn’t long, of course—not with Cedric’s thoughts entirely elsewhere. He was back with you in moments, but by then, the playful challenge in your eyes had only deepened.

"Feel free to take your time, Cedric," you said, a little too sweetly for his liking. "I’m sure you have plenty of dances left in you."

Cedric grinned, his face lighting up with amusement. “You accepted to be my date, you know that right?”

With that, he took your hand, pulling you into the rhythm of the music. The sounds of the ball faded into the background as he twirled you expertly across the floor, and the teasing atmosphere between the two of you shifted into something warmer, more personal.

It didn’t matter that the Yule Ball was a spectacle of pomp and glamour or that Cedric had spent more time fending off admirers than he would have liked. What mattered was the moment you shared—just the two of you, laughing and dancing in each other's arms.

As the song slowed, Cedric smiled down at you, his earlier frustration gone. “I think I’ve finally found my favorite part of the evening.”

“Oh really?” you said, grinning up at him. “And what’s that?”

“You," he said simply, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. "Finally.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, everything else seemed to vanish—the crowd, the noise, the never-ending line of girls—all that remained was the warmth between you and the Triwizard Champion who had finally, truly made it to his date.

— taglist ♥︎

@willowlovestheweasleys

[55sturn]

✮ BACK TO YOU

pairings: chris sturniolo x fem!oc, reader x unnamed male!oc, chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: in which no matter where they are in life, chris and y/n find their way back to one another, despite knowing that it never really works, until day he gives in and stops fighting what he knows is meant to be.

warnings: swearing, angst (a whole lot of it), verbal arguments, chris and y/n are toxic, implications of chris cheating, fluff if you squint, suggestive implications.

THIRD PERSON POV

in every culture and every religion, there is some sort of evidence of soulmates existing. the person your soul is forever tied to, setting you up for heartbreak along the journey looking for that one person. love is at the root of the structure of every belief system. the person that has been so perfectly tailored to your heart and soul, meant to love you in the ways you spend your life searching for.

look up: invisible string by taylor swift, for a beautiful depiction of a soulmate inspired love song.

the only issue with having a soulmate, is that nine out of ten times, you don't know who your soulmate is. which often leads to you spend hours upon hours and years upon years searching for them, inevitably experiencing various stages and forms of heartbreak in hopes that once you do find your soulmate, your forever person, they are able to heal and fix you.

but in chris and y/n's love story, them healing each other wasn't always the case. they were the fairytale from hell, they were a wrongful depiction of soulmates, two souls tethered together by an invisible red string that who, instead of loving each other, had a tendency to tears each other's hearts into millions of pieces each time they tried to love one another.

they were two souls so delicately similar that it caused them nothing but pain and frustration. they loved one another in the wrong ways, but they were determined to make it work, albeit at the wrong times.

PRESENT TIME

chris sighed as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, with a quick roll of his eyes, he fished the thin device out of his pocket, knowing full well who was texting him as he made his rounds through the crowd of friends and acquaintances at the party he attended.

groaning, her named flashed again in his notifications, he hovered his thumb over the text before pressing down, begrudgingly opening the conversation he had wished hadn't started, despite deep down wanting her to reach out to him.

IMESSAGE TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

Y/N: guess u forgot to tell me that u and ur new bitch of the week would be here🤣

CHRIS: don't start tonight y/n

Y/N: i'm just shocked is all, didn’t think she’d fuck with these ppl just by looking at her

CHRIS: "she" has a name, y/n

CHRIS: it’s gianna

Y/N: you act like i give a fuck

Y/N: it’s nice to see you tho

CHRIS: please y/n, aren’t you tired of this shit?

CHRIS: you and i don't work, we literally never fucking do

CHRIS: and i really like this girl

Y/N: if you genuinely mean that, why are you spending so much time explaining it to me? sounds like you’re just tryna convince yourself that you feel that way.

Y/N: but if it’s real, then i'm happy for you, it's just weird that you and i aren't here together.

chris rolled his eyes at her second to last text, the way she could see right through like he was made of glass, even through a text, was something he’d never be able to understand. or run away from. there was never any sense in him even trying to lie to her, she could read him like a book. and chris was her favourite book, she would read that book ten times over in one sitting if she could.

but chris willed up all the self control he had in his entire being to not seek out the girl he's loved since he was a tiny boy in middle school. he told himself that it was done for good. that's the thing with playground love, it doesn't always last for ever and ever and chris was finally starting to accept that.

he pocketed his phone and forced himself to look for gianna, his eyes briefly meeting y/n's as she spoke to some random influencer, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes as she focused on the boy in front of her. he soon spotted the girl he arrived with, her hand flirtatiously resting on vinnie's bicep as he spoke to her. with a less than enthusiastic scoff, he downed the rest of the drink in his cup and turned around, walking in the opposite direction toward the girl he called home.

once he was in earshot, he smirked to himself as she pawned her cup off onto the poor boy fighting for a chance with her in front of him. once she waved him off with a bittersweet smile, she turned back to chris. she tutted playfully as he rolled his eyes, her hand reaching up toward the back of his neck, pulling him flush against the front of her body.

"what happened to "i really like her"?" she chuckled, her arms wrapping around his neck as his hands fell to her waist, pulling her into a hug, his lips meeting her jaw as he sighed.

"vinnie got to her and she was all over him." he spoke against her skin as her nails gently scraped against his scalp, bringing him down from his emotional high as his shoulders slumped in her arms.

"wanna get out of here? go for a walk?"

"nah, m'tired and just wanna go to bed, you crashing at mine?"

"of course." she spoke, her hand slipping into his as they walked toward the door, nick and matt meeting them there soon after chris texted them, neither of them surprised to find chris leaving with y/n instead of his girlfriend.

"i'm so happy you're here y/n, chris is a different man when you're not around." nick snorted, climbing into the seat behind matt as y/n sat behind chris, his hand slipping between the two front seats as her fingers threaded through his again.

"i'm glad to be back for however long chris needs me to be." she whispered, her words cutting deep into chris' heart, knowing that she wouldn't be around permanently, their dynamic and ways of communicating only allowing them to be together for a short period of time. they’d spend most their days tangled in chris’ sheets, professing their undying love for one another, knowing very well their time would be ending once again, and that it’d end soon.

they found that while they loved each other so deeply, they showed it in all the wrong ways. instead of gentle and soft spoken words, their love for one another was reminded in the clashing of teeth and tongues during heavy make-outs, and wandering hands with their nails digging into the soft flesh they roamed.

their rekindled romance was once again called off when chris' girlfriend, gianna, had come back into his life a week later, apologizing for her behaviour and explaining that she had been a fan of vinnie's for a long time and the fan girl in her caused her to make questionable decisions.

with a meek smile and a backhanded comment about chris’ infidelity, y/n packed her bags and moved out of chris' room sadly bidding matt and nick a brief "see you later", which left them sighing as they were no stranger to watching y/n move in and out of the house a couple times every few months.

it wasn't long before chris had found himself missing the girl that knew him inside and out, that knew his heart like the back of her hand. a month after gianna came back, spewing excuses upon excuses, chris had broken up with her, claiming that his heart would forever belong to someone else and he couldn't bear to put her through the pain of not loving her the way she deserved to be.

chris knew that he should take this grace period and be alone instead of running back to the girl he always did, but he knew she was it for him, no matter what. he didn't understand why they couldn't love each other properly. he always looked at it in a way where they had too much love for one another and they just didn't know what to do with it.

he tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts unrelenting and holding his ability to sleep hostage as his phone read 3:32 in the morning. groaning he unlocked his phone, his thumbs maneuvering their way to her conversation from muscle memory at this point before typing out a quick couple messages.

IMESSAGE TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

CHRIS: y/n come home

CHRIS: please

CHRIS: i cant sleep without you

CHRIS: i love you in a way that makes it hard to love anybody else

CHRIS: you are like a drug that i cant go without, you're deadass my soulmate bruh and i'm done denying that. you are the only person i want. the only that actually knows who i am, inside and out. the only person that can make me feel good the way you do. i want you. no more fighting it. we’re meant to be.

Y/N: i'll be there in 10.

every time y/n fell back into chris’ arms, it felt devastating and bittersweet. this time, it felt right. it felt like they had finally found solid ground and that the had found the way they were meant to be together. there was definitely some uncertainty about the longevity of their relationship overall, but they learned over time that they need to communicate. whether they stayed together or not for the final time, there was no doubt that they would always be intertwined in each other’s hearts.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @verosivy @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt

© 55STURN 2024 [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[leojurand]

funny thing about me reading all of peter wimsey and adoring it: i don't like mysteries. and this series didn't change my mind! i still didn't care much about the crime-solving in these books. that's not why i read them. i decided to try the series despite the genre because i always saw sayers's name mentioned at the same time as dunnett's, so i had to at least try. and what kept me going was the great writing and peter himself.

sayers had a gift for writing witty dialogue. if i had to think of an author who's on the same level as her when it comes to that, i would struggle. and you kinda need to be a master at writing witty dialogue if you have a main character like peter winsey. peter!! i think, while reading the series and talking about it on twitter, my most common reaction: peter my best friend :). one of the most lovable and maybe the most delightful protagonist i've ever had the pleasure of reading about.

i didn't always feel 100% connected to him. one of the things i dislike about mystery fiction is that (in my opinion) it's very episodic and so there's no overarching plot, and the characterization doesn't really take center stage. ask me about one favourite peter moment from bellona club or nine tailors and i could not tell you.

but the thing about this series is, it does end up having a sort of overarching plot that sees it's main characters grow and change and kinda gets them out of the "mystery of the week" formula that i think can make characterization stagnant. and that's the harriet vane storyline.

i can't tell how much better harriet makes peter (and i don't need to tell you because if you've read it, you know). seeing peter from the outside, or from the inside but in this situation that changes his priorities so much, was so good. their banter, their chemistry, their misunderstanding, the way harriet perceives peter, from her repressed feelings to her protectiveness and unconditional love. all of it makes peter a much more compelling character. not to say he wasn't before, because i adored peter from book 2 onwards. but harriet always brought the best in him.

i could say a million things more, but tl;dr is sayers has become one of my all time favourite authors, i will never forget peter wimsey, and i'm both incredibly happy to have read this series and so sad that it's over. now what :')

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

[wholoveseggs]

I don't know if you've talked about this before, but what style of music do you think Elijah would like best?

I LOVE this question, and I have so much to say. I have two answers: one is what he probably listens to based on show canon, and the other is what I want him to like because I think it’s hot.

First, canonically: Elijah is absolutely a fan of classical and jazz. We see him playing the piano like the refined gentleman he is..Someone who has spent centuries honing his craft. I imagine him being a fan of the greats: Chopin, Beethoven, and Debussy for classical, and Duke Ellington or Miles Davis when it comes to jazz. It fits his old-world charm, his sense of elegance, and his love for structure and tradition.

But what I want him to secretly love? METAL

Picture this: it’s middle part menace Elijah in TVD Season 2. He’s sitting in a dark room, wearing one of his perfectly tailored dark suits, sipping some ridiculously expensive bourbon... with a goth girl (me) perched in his lap. And what’s playing in the background? Classic heavy metal or death metal. (This is my ultimate Elijah fantasy ~lol)

I feel like he’d have a preference for 90s/00s stuff (my favorite, hehe) Disturbed, Tool, Nine Inch Nails, maybe even a little System of a Down or Slipknot. The angrier and more intense, the better.

I also think Elijah would have a deep appreciation for the classics. Bands like Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Deep Purple. Their groundbreaking artistry and the way they shaped modern music would resonate with him, especially given his centuries of witnessing cultural evolution firsthand.

But 80s metal? Oh no. He’d probably find it far too disingenuous, with all the flashy hair and over-the-top theatrics.

This version of Elijah makes so much sense to me, especially in Season 2. This is a man who spent decades hunting Klaus. He’s angry. He’s violent. That calm and collected demeanor we see? That’s just the surface. Deep down, Elijah is full of rage, grief, and a relentless drive for justice.

And that’s why I think he’d relate to metal. It’s raw, it’s angry, it’s aggressive, but it’s also cathartic. The technical precision of bands like Tool or Metallica would appeal to his love of structure and mastery, while the sheer chaos of Slipknot or System of a Down would let him connect with the storm raging inside him.

I find something so hot about the idea of this super-refined, 1000+ year-old man who exudes elegance and control, secretly loving aggressive, chaotic music. It’s the perfect contradiction.

Here is my fantasy metal playlist for a goth girl who wants to ride Elijah (me):

Land of Confusion - Disturbed

Schism - Tool

The Hand that Feeds - Nine Inch Nails

Closer - Nine Inch Nails

BYOB - System of a Down

Whisper - Evanescence

Crawling - Linkin Park

🥵

[fallatyourfeet]

Swanky Suits (Arthur x Female Reader)

One Shot

Credit to Gif creator- sorry I don't know who you are

Summary: Arthur is taken completely by surprise after being sent by Ada to get a new suit

Word count: 1322

Warnings: Awkward adorable Arthur. He gets a bit nervous and anxious.

Author's Note: This was only supposed to be around 500-700 words. Big fail. Also, can't believe I've posted two fics in a week. What the hell is happening to me.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

This place seemed far too swanky for Arthur, he felt completely out of place, but Ada had insisted he come. “Trust me Arthur, they’re the best tailors in London… you won’t be disappointed.” Looking at himself in the mirror out front of the change room, he had to agree. The pants and shirt were the nicest things he had ever worn, and he hadn’t even tried on the jacket yet. But still, no matter how much money he had lining his pockets, this place just felt a little too fancy for a boy from Small Heath. Maybe Tommy could get away with it, but him? Not a chance.

Walking up behind him, jacket in hand, came the attendant who helped him with his fittings last week, his posh London accent and manner doing nothing to ease Arthur’s inner monologue. Walking in a circle around him, he looked him up and down and nodded, quite pleased with himself, “The shirt and pants are a perfect fit, they won’t need any alterations at all.”

Moving behind him, he held open the jacket so Arthur could put his arms in and slipped it up over his shoulders. Then walking back around, he adjusted the lapels and buttoned it up, before stepping back, looking slightly disappointed, “The jacket is going to need some tweaking.” Placing a finger to his chin, the attendant sighed with thought. “It doesn’t need much… I might get our seamstress to have a look, she’s out the back. Otherwise, our tailor’s back tomorrow if you want to wait.” Unsure how to gauge Arthur’s expression, he added, “She’s very good… you won’t be disappointed.”

Arthur sniffed, visibly rolling his eyes as he adjusted the jacket, had this guy been talking to Ada? Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “Yeah, alright, let her ‘ave a look.”

The attendant disappeared out back, leaving him in front of the mirror, and he couldn’t help but admire the cut and feel of the fabric. Arthur knew he was hardly posh and refined like ninety nine percent of the shops cliental, but he knew a bloody good suit when he saw one. And this was one of the best.

Moving to the edge of the store counter, he was flicking through a collection of swatches, taken completely off guard when to the side of him, someone spoke, “Arthur? ….. Arthur Shelby?”

An oddly familiar voice which Arthur couldn’t quite place, spoke his name. A voice from his childhood, only much more mature than he remembered. The edges to the Birmingham accent were a little softer, the volume somehow fuller, richer. A voice smoother than honey. ‘Hmmm’, he thought quite innocently, ‘a man could get used to a sound like that.’

Turning towards the voice, he almost jumped when he saw you. Dropping the swatches to the ground his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, standing straight as an arrow like a naughty child being caught in an act of mischief. He recognised you straight away. Even if he were an eighty-year-old man that hadn’t seen you in sixty years, he’d still know exactly who you were. His childhood crush. The girl who made his heart fly whenever she was near. The girl to which no other could compare. The girl he wanted to grow up and marry… And the girl who up and moved to London with her family when he was barely fifteen. Moved before he even found the courage to ask her out.

Arthur spoke your name, “YN?” It was almost a whisper. ‘Fuckin hell,’ he thought, you were even more beautiful than he remembered.

You smiled in response, and if his cheeks were pink before, they must be bright scarlet by now. Not sure what to do or say, he fumbled over his words, before blurting out, “You… you’re the seamstress?”

Lifting your hands, you laughed a little, waving the measuring tape and pin cushion they held, “I am… and these are the weapons of my trade.” Moving towards him, you placed them down on the counter, taking in every inch of his face, turning his poor scarlet cheeks crimson. “It’s good to see you, Arthur. My goodness, it must be what…? Twenty years?”

You moved even closer. Slipping your hands inside his jacket you went about your work, pinning together the alterations when your hand brushed against his side. It almost made him freeze, and he thanked God that it wasn’t his pants that needed altering, your close proximity making it hard for him to think. But somehow, he managed, “Uh, yeah. It’s been exactly twenty years.”

Looking up at him, you smiled the sweetest smile, your eyes looking strangely humbled that he knew exactly how long it had been since he saw you last. And it did nothing to ease the building flutters in his chest. He was a grown man, and a few minutes in your presence had him acting like an awkward teenager again. Arthur’s thoughts were a mess, scrambling to find something else to say, “So, ah, how long you been workin’ here?”

Biting your lip, you looked at the ring on your finger, before answering, sadness gathering in your eyes and voice, “Since my husband left for France.”

Arthur wanted to kick himself for asking, needing no more explanation to realise your husband did not return. And his heart broke for you. The thought of you hurting, in any shape or form, made him uneasy, made him want to reach out and comfort you. Placing a hand to your arm, he gave it a gentle squeeze. No words needed to be exchanged, you knew what he was trying to say.

With a small nod, you smiled softly, distracting yourself by getting back to the task at hand, making a few quick adjustments with your pins and measuring tape. Seemingly satisfied, you took a step back to make a full inspection, announcing quietly, “That should do it.”

Slipping the jacket from his shoulders, you placed it over your arm before fixing the collar of his shirt, your fingertips creating a trail of goosebumps when they brushed along his neck, and that was when he knew he was in trouble. Just one touch against his bare neck and all those buried teenage feelings came rushing back, hitting him like a tonne of bricks. Never to be suppressed again. And he knew himself well enough to realise that if he didn’t act on those feelings today, he was going to end up with a whole god damned wardrobe full of swanky suits. When what he really wanted was you.

Breaking through his trainwreck of thoughts, you touched his elbow, your eyes searching for something in his, “Arthur, this will only take me ten minutes… will you wait? Or” You paused, your expression changing the slightest bit, “Or did you want to come back tomorrow?”

With a deep breath, Arthur cleared his throat, putting his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were trembling. “Ah, yeah, I can wait.” Feeling sick to the stomach, he shuffled on his feet, taking his hands out to run them through his hair, before returning them to his pockets, “Um, when do you knock off from here?” Clearing his throat again, Arthur worked hard to keep eye contact, fuck you were the loveliest thing he had ever seen. “I mean, if you want to, we could catch up… I could take you out for dinner or… or somethin.”

You answered with a smile. It was so sweet and warm, and genuine. And he dared to hope that just maybe you weren’t going to turn him down. With his heart beating in his throat, he waited for your reply. It was just a few fleeting moments, a few short moments that felt like an eternity. But your answer came, and he could barely believe his ears. “Yes, Arthur. Thank you. Dinner or somethin’ would be lovely.”

[joemama-2]

Hiiii, I LOVE YOUR WORK ❤️❤️

I kinda had a drabble or an actual fic ideaa

Sooo I recently went to Disneyland Paris for the first time, a week ago (mind you, I’m French, 19 and I literally go next to park every single weeks I’m just hella broke 💀💀💀)

Anywayssss it has always been my biggest dream sooo

what do you think about gojo, taking reader (fem reader or not, you choose) to Disneyland (not necessarily Paris) as a part of their honeymoon (as a surprise, he’s rich asf so of course he books the vip suit that are princess themed).

And then he just makes it he’s whole goal to get her pregnant (cause he’s freaky like that)

Something really smutty and fluffy 🤭

(Feel free to add wtv details you’d like, it’s more of an idea so you can change anything you want, love youuu and your writing so so much ❤️)

awww!! i wanna go to disneyland paris too!! i’ve only been to the anaheim one LOLL but hopefully i can go in the future, and do disney world ;)

butttt oooo, i like this idea 😏😏

i think a disney trip is just one of the few places you guys visit for your honeymoon. he’s rich, so he’s going ALLLL out. he’s been planning this for over a year, so everything has to be perfect.

disney is the first stop.

he remembers you telling him about your childhood and how one of your first dreams was be a pretty princess. so he makes sure to get the largest and prettiest vip princess suite just for you—his wife.

your face lights up with a tender, almost youthful glow that makes him feel so giddy inside. the view is so pretty and the memories you make are even better. after a day of walking and riding the coasters and cute little rides, he suggests you take a different kind of ride.

he has you pressed up against the glass of the window, the fireworks on display as he thrusts his cock in and out, hitting that spongy part only he can reach. your breaths are fogging up the window and for a second, you’re worried that your devious act is visible for the people down below, but when he’s wrapping his arms around your waist to tug you closer, deep and languid strokes making you feel on cloud nine—that worry goes straight out the window.

i think he really plays into the whole royalty dynamic. so OF COURSEEEE you’re dressed up for the occasion. wearing a poofy pink dress with sparkles and a gold crown sitting atop your head. and he looks like your prince charming. his royal blue, well-tailored suit with gold cufflinks. a gold crown is also on his head, though more lopsided.

he’s bunched your dress up so his cock can slide in your hole with utmost ease. whispering dirty praises. “my queen, you feel…ngh—so…good…”

“taking you is better than anything i’ve ever experienced.”

“you see that?” he points to a particularly bright firework that formed mickey’s face.

you meekly nod, feeling cockdrunk.

he grins against your neck, kissing softly underneath your ear while his hand sneaks to your front to rub your puffy, sensitive clit. you squeal.

“i wish for you to have my—hah—heir.” his thrusts grow faster, hands tithing around your hips. you shakily look over your shoulder. “do you wish for that too, my pretty?”

“y…yes…”

“i long to see you swell with my children, only you….just you….”

“p-please, satoru. i…” a moan cuts you off, keeling in on yourself when his thumb circles faster. your hand pathetically grips at his wrist, as if that will make him slow down.

your thighs tremble under his relentless pace, his grip keeping you in place despite your feeble attempts to twist away. his chuckle is low, teasing, as if your reactions only fuel his insatiable need.

"ah, trying to run from me now? no, no, my sweet girl...you said you wanted this." his voice dips, thick with lust, as he leans over you, lips brushing against your ear. "you'll take everything I give you, won't you?"

"s—satoru-" you choke out, but your words dissolve into another whimper as his hand snakes beneath you, finding the spot that makes your vision blur.

"say it again," he commands, his tone both firm and coaxing, as if he won't be satisfied until you voice your surrender.

your body shudders as he angles his hips just right, a cry escaping your lips. "i—i want it... want all of you...!"

"that's my girl." his praise is a sinful whisper, his lips ghosting over your temple as he buries himself deeper. "you'll look so beautiful carrying my child. swollen with my love, everyone will know who you belong to."

the thought ignites a fire in you, your fingers clutching at his arms around your waist as the tension in your core builds unbearably. satoru's movements grow erratic, his breathing heavy against your neck.

"let go for me," he urges, voice raw and strained. "let me feel it...let me have all of you, my queen.”

and when you finally do, trembling and gasping his name, he follows right after, his hold tightening as if anchoring himself to you. his warm seed spills in, filling you to the brim more than his cock ever could. for a moment, the world feels like it's spinning, and all you can hear is the sound of your own ragged breathing mingled with his.

he doesn't pull away immediately, instead wrapping his arms around you as you both catch your breath. "you're mine," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth tenderly now, the heat of the moment fading into something softer.

"and I'm yours," he continues, voice hoarse but full of affection, your heart pounding in sync with his. he’s losing himself in your eyes, lifting your left hand with his to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles, then your matching golden rings. the final firework goes off in tandem, a representation of a large heart.

looks like he’s given you your wish. along with a special other one.