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harmoonix · 14 days ago

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✨️The art of sexiness ✨

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✨️ FASHION Astrology Observations for both WOMEN AND MEN ✨️

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Men with Venus in earth signs have a unique elegance. They may dress a lot with old money/dark academia styles, very elegant, gentleman type of man, good manners.

Women with Venus - Asc aspects always know how to dress, for different occasions, is like your body tells you what type of clothes to wear for that specific day

Venus in Leo/Leo Rising (for both men and women) may like to show parts of their skin, can be the back, the chest, pants that may have broken parts that show the skin

Ascendant in Libra/Taurus, you're Venus ruled, that means that you are already into all those fashion/beauty trends, Venus will amplify your fashion style and that can help you to be more in tune with your beauty

Ascendant in Pisces/Venus in Pisces is also loved a lot by Venus, they may wear clothes that make them more dreamy, ethereal, sensual

Venus in Fire signs are recommended to wear lots of red/orange or purple if possible, bright colors amplify your Venus, and you may be more comfortable wearing those

Capricorn Placements, but especially Risings, are known to have good fashion choices. They will always wear something classy/vintage style, which makes them look more maturely beautiful

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Mars in Virgo/Mars at 6° 18° may wear clothes that show their waist/stomach area, Virgo rules over those, it can apply both for men and women, specific tops may be a good fashion choice dor them

Neptune - ascendant aspects attract people with their fashion sense, you can get compliments for the way you dress, your style in fashion is unmatched

Uranus - Venus aspects, here the native may put sort of random clothes on them which in the end still look fire, random clothes ends with a good outfit, sometimes wearing whatever you take from your wardrobe but still looking good

Men specifically with Mars - Asc aspects may try to dress in a way to show their dominance or in a way that inspire them to be more in a role leader, they may also have sort of marks on their body

Venus at 11° 23° degrees can indicate a unique fashion style/you may have a different fashion style from anyone else, fabulous.

Virgo/Gemini/Cancer Risings can have a baby face. They may wear more soft-colors clothes that indicate a joyful nature, like yellow or green, they may look younger than they actually are

Venus in the 4H/Cancer/ at 4° 16° 28° may like traditional clothing, sometimes simple but classy kind of clothes that still gives the vibe of an elegant person

Saturn - Ascendant aspects native may dress more casual/dark tones/dark - elegant vibes, these natives may also give the vibe of a 'witch' in fashion codes

Scorpio Placements are known to dress more sensually and based on how sensual they feel in that certain day. They may love to go out more at night, so definitely wear something fitting for night dates

Pluto - Ascendant aspects natives can be called out for dressing 'provocative' even if they don't automatically do that. Definitely dark vibes in the sense of clothing, vampire aura

Sun or Venus aspecting the Sun or MC can make the native to wear more jewels, rings, bracelets even gemstones if you like them

Midheaven in Libra/Taurus/aspecting Venus or at 2° 14° 26° 7° 19° degrees may end up good fashion designers if they put everything in practice because they're also very creative

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Midheaven in Scoprio or at 8° 20° screams 'Cruella deVile' vibes, that type of dark fashion, glamour, elegant and sparkling vibe from the 90's

If you have Moon aspecting your Asc is important to dress whatever you like, to dress how you feel/on your mood because that's the way you shine, being yourself through clothes and fashion

Aries Placements/MC/Venus/Asc can be the type of a seductive person in terms of clothing. They may not have the desire to seduce others with their clothes, but others happen just fall over you

Aries Moons though they may have lots of marks on their body that they wanna cover, but their eyebrows are everything!!

Aquarius Risings/Uranus 1H may have a different way of dressing somehow getting the attention without wanting that, is just the way you style that people love to see

Sagittarius Placements/MC/Venus/Rising have that type of tropical aura, wearing beautiful clothes sometimes inspired by something or someone that makes these natives to shine

Men with sun dominant in their chart may dress more casual yet trendy, seeing and trying different trends of clothes that puts them under the spotlight

Men who are Mars dominant may like to wear military clothes as a trend. Since Mars is the planet of war, these natives may have a fantasy about it

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1° 13° 25° degrees on your rising will make the native to be bold in their styles, wearing things that get a lot of attention because of their strong personality as well

0° on ascendant/venus/MC will just make you indecisive at dressing, may be a bit complicated for you to find a style of your own but once you find it, nothing will stop you from shininggggg

Venus in Gemini/at 3° 15° 27° may like to wear combos of colors in their clothes, like white and black or red and black, they wanna be matchy and to have their own kind of style

Jupiter - ascendant aspects will amplify the way you dress, will put a lot on attention on you since these aspects can make the native to look more curvy

Venus - Mercury aspects are known to be charming, always on point, these may give the vibes of barbie, doll fashion, you can get inspired from others

Jupiter - Neptune aspects create this type of prince charming or a Disney princess vibes, they look ethereal, they wanna look nice and liked by others, works so well for them.

Libra Venus/Moon, their hair can play a big role in how they dress in that specific day, like you can't dress good if your hair isn't looking good, I feel like they wanna combine something that makes their hair to look more close to their outfit

Pluto or Lilith - asc aspecting may also like goth/grunge style pleasant for them, honestly they embody the grunge aura a lot

Aquarius Venus/Venus in the 11th, we all know their beauty is like by a lot of people, but is also something in their dressing style that makes them to be appreciated in public too, carrying a sense of welcoming energy

Taurus & Virgo Risings have the type of 'fairy vibes', but at the same time, their clothing may also be inspired from it, wearing clothes that make them sophisticated, bossy for both for them

Mercury - ascendant aspects may like to talk about the way they dress or their clothing style to others, inspiring others with the same ideas

Air Venus/Venus in Air houses 3H/7H/11H gives ´disco - fashion´ to the native, or the vibes from a 90´s dance club. Very attractive and these natives may wear sparkly clothes, clothes that reflect the light

Venus in Cancer or Capricorn/Venus in the 4th or 10th house women may like to wear long dresses, wedding type of dresses. casual dress but still elegant

Beyonce is a Libra Rising/Madonna a Virgo Rising, one after the other they set fashion trends all over the world, their beauty comes from art/inspired from something

Marilyn Monroe was a Leo Rising, her Leo Rising helped her a lot to gain attention all over the world, Marilyn was an icon for the fashion eye in her time

Aaliyah Princess of R&B was an Aquarius Rising and her impact over the industry was insane, she was always setting new standards and new trends, she fulfilled her aquarius rising path

Venus in the 9th house or at 9, 21 degrees can indicate your ethnicity plays a big role in your beauty and fashion, your culture can make you more than you know

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Ascendant at 6° or 18° may give you a pure look on your face. Wearing white/silver/bright blue makes you more peaceful. Your fashion sense is delicate

Men with Pluto - MC aspects can dress with more dark tones, attracting more eyes upon them, these men are mose mysterious and private about their lives yet they can be so popular

Titanic´s main characthers Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet are both libra risings and they have played in the most romantic movie ever. + The vintage fashion in the movie being associated with Libra

Uranus/Venus/Sun/Jupiter in the 2nd house natives can invest a lot on the way they look/clothes, beauty products, etc

Something i have seen in Libra suns and moons is that they are good to give advices about clothes, they know how sort the things out, they will be honest about looks

Venus in the 5th/11th house natives can create lots of fashion trends people tend to follow. Their friends may also get insipired from them.

Venus or Moon in the 3rd house can get more communicative about their looks. They get curious very easily about others look as well. They may stare at your outfit a lot, lol

Virgo Placements, but especially Moon, may like to dress business casual, boss clothes, or something that tells you they are in a good role in the society

Natives with Venus - Pluto aspects may like to dress more sensually without being sexualized for it. Do it for yourself not for others attention

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Hope you all have a good week 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 lots of winter hugs for everyone!! 🤎🤎🤎

♤ Harmoonix ♤

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akiranzee · 5 months ago

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muzan x gn!reader who is literally like the very epitome of elegance. like so refined, elegant, polite, respectful and all that! no vulgar language, fancy way of speaking.. like just elegance impersonated.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MUZAN WITH ELEGANT S/O!!

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✧ it annoys him and amuses him all at the same time.

✧ why? because there will always be one prick in the world who’d be so opposed to you, saying you’re weird and stuff, and your response would just smile and say “we’re unique individuals after all”. ✧ so yeah, he hates how you’d smile about it and likes when you piss the person off more, acting all chill like that. ✧ other than that, he also doesn’t like it when you answer him briefly, like, when he suggested you’d eat at this restaurant and that, you’d simply nod and smile, in which he hated because he wants to hear your own thoughts, your own words, your own voice. ✧ it also makes him wonder how you — not even of old age yet, could speak so knowledgeable, and act so mature. ✧ more or less, people your age would still be fooling around, and say nonsense things. but you — muzan swears, you’re just so different even with all of them combined. ✧ instead of saying, “can you pass the sauce to me?” with a sweet voice, instead you’d say, “would you mind passing the sauce to me?” with a refined voice, and of course, with your signature smile. ✧ and if you’re talking to someone, and you didn’t catch a word they said, instead of just saying, “what?” you say, “i’m sorry, may you repeat it one more time?” ✧ and if you accidentally bump into someone, instead of saying a casual “oh! i’m sorry” you instead say; “oh! i apologize. please forgive me.” with stopping in your tracks and facing them with an apologetic and concerned look in your face. ✧ others won’t even bother to wipe their stained lips with sauce or whatever, even asking their significant others to wipe it off for them, but you — you’d always bring a tissue or a handkerchief everywhere you go, and wiping the stain off your soft lips, making muzan wish you’d just let him wipe it off at least once. ✧ but sometimes, he also likes breaking you off your elegant state, loving the look of your nose scrunched up when you see or smell blood. it just disgusts you so much. ✧ aside from all that, you also have an impolite side of you, which is when there’s a thief, you’d simply raise your leg up and trip them, having the others chasing them catch them. ✧ someone wants to harrass/take advantage of you? no worries, you’d “accidentally” push them away so hard, that they stumble down, as you mutter a soft, sarcastic “sorry” and walk away as if nothing happened. ✧ muzan sometimes wonders just how much patience you have to simply smile there while a person is literally trash-talking you, in which he, by the way, politely tells to fuck off. ✧ sometimes, muzan wishes that you’d just get out of your elegant state and cling to him sometimes. ✧ and lastly, you’re a very independent woman, that sometimes, when you both hang out together, he’d just feel really useless, and you’d be the first and last person to ever make him feel that way.

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a/n: i’m not elegant myself so uhh🤐.

#📂 — ` akira’s works!#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer muzan #muzan demon slayer #demon slayer muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #kny muzan #muzan kny #kny kibutsuji #kibutsuji kny #muzan x y/n #muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan kibutsuji x reader

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chevyslate158 · 6 days ago

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Coriolanus Snow x FemReader: Halls Of Obsession 18+

A/n: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this dark and twisted story! 😈 Just a heads up, this is 18+ content, so please proceed with caution! ⚠️ I want to make it clear that I do not condone the relationships or behaviour depicted here. It's purely for fictional exploration especially seeing as Coriolanus Snow is typically a darker character. 🙅‍♀️💭

Also, if you're into more intense, mature themes, feel free to check out my other series, Pleasantries of 'Love' (Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader) 💖, with Chapter 1 just uploaded yesterday! ✨ And if you're into the Hunger Games AU, don’t miss Threads of Freedom (My OC Archer Brown x Fem! Reader, 15th Hunger Games AU) featuring a Billy the Kid (Tom Blyth) face claim!

Thanks for reading, and happy indulging in these darker stories! 💋 Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Stalking, obsession, control, mental manipulation, emotional manipulation, gender dynamics, misogyny, unhealthy relationships, delusional Coriolanus, gaslighting, dark themes and power imbalance

Coriolanus leaned casually against the wall near the entrance of the university hall, his posture relaxed but his mind sharp, taking in every detail of the bustling crowd. Students hurried past him, eager to escape the confines of their lectures and dive into the freedom of the evening. Yet, amidst the sea of faces, his eyes sought only one. Her.

She emerged from the crowd like a ripple breaking the surface of still water, her presence commanding his undivided attention. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows caught the soft strands of her hair, turning them into a golden halo. She moved with an unassuming grace, her focus seemingly elsewhere, clutching a notebook to her chest as if it were a shield.

Coriolanus’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he watched her pause to greet a classmate, her laughter light but fleeting, like a secret carried away by the wind. His fingers flexed against the wall, the urge to step forward warring with his disciplined restraint. Patience, he reminded himself, savouring the game he had constructed in his mind. He would make his move when the moment was perfect when she least expected it. For now, he was content to remain a shadow, watching, waiting, and unravelling the threads of her world piece by piece.

The girl he had been quietly observing for months. No, not months almost a year. It had started innocently enough, or so he told himself. He had noticed her during the first week of classes, her presence standing out in a sea of anonymity. She had been sitting in the back of a lecture hall, scribbling furiously in her notebook while everyone else seemed content to zone out. There was something about her intensity, the way she seemed so absorbed in her own world, that drew his gaze again and again. By the end of that week, he knew her schedule by heart.

At first, Coriolanus had convinced himself it was nothing more than curiosity. The first time he noticed her was during a philosophy lecture. She had slipped into the room quietly, her posture rigid yet unassuming, as though she wished to blend into the background. But she couldn’t. Not to him. There was something magnetic about her serious, reserved, and entirely indifferent to the exhausting theatrics of campus life. While others vied for attention and alliances, she seemed untouchable, consumed by a world far removed from the trivialities of their peers.

That moment lingered in his mind far longer than it should have. He found himself searching for her in every lecture, catching glimpses of her bent over her notes, her pen moving with precision. There was a stark elegance in her solitude, a defiance in her silence. It was intoxicating.

Weeks turned into months, and that initial spark of intrigue began to fester. Curiosity became a fixation. He would loiter outside her lecture halls, under the guise of coincidence, timing his movements so that they would pass in the corridors or share fleeting moments in the library. He began to rearrange his schedule, reworking every detail of his routine to ensure their paths would cross—no matter how insignificant the interaction.

It became a ritual, one he both dreaded and relished. His heart would race at the mere sight of her, a mix of longing and frustration knotting in his chest. The more she remained oblivious to his growing obsession, the more insatiable it became. Coriolanus found himself consumed by the idea of her, his thoughts dominated by questions he couldn’t shake. Why didn’t she notice him? Why was she so immune to the charms and status that others bent over backward to acknowledge?

And as his fascination deepened, so too did his desire for control. She was no longer just a girl; she was a puzzle, a challenge, and in his mind, something meant to belong to him.

Coriolanus couldn’t stop himself. He memorised her patterns down to the second with an almost obsessive precision the way she tilted her head when lost in thought, the quiet hum she made under her breath when she believed no one was listening, the books she checked out from the library, and even the routes she took when walking home. Each detail was like a puzzle piece, slowly forming a picture that only he was privy to.

But it wasn’t enough. Observing her from afar no longer satisfied the gnawing need within him. He wanted more. Needed more. To know the thoughts that danced behind her quiet demeanour, to hear her voice directed at him not in passing politeness but in something personal, something real.

The rational part of him whispered that this fixation was dangerous, but he silenced it with ease. She had become his constant, his obsession. The world around him blurred when she was near, her presence sharpening every sense to an almost unbearable intensity.

It was no longer about curiosity or fascination. It was about possession. She didn’t know it yet, but she was his. She belonged to him in a way that no one else ever could. And soon, he would make her understand that too.

Today, as on every other day, she carried a precarious stack of books in her arms, her steps purposeful and unwavering. She exuded a quiet determination that fascinated him. Even from this distance, Coriolanus could anticipate her route to the library, as always.

His girl was so predictable, yet he found comfort in that. She was like clockwork, her movements steady and deliberate, her routines as unchanging as the sunrise. He couldn’t help but admire her devotion to her studies, and the way she treated her academic pursuits with the same reverence others reserved for religion. It wasn’t just intelligence it was passion, a drive that set her apart from everyone else.

Look at her, he thought, a faint smile curling his lips as he leaned casually against a column. My smart little girl, always so diligent, so focused. She doesn’t even realise how special she is, how different she is from the rest of them.

Her obliviousness to her own allure only made her more captivating. She didn’t try to draw attention to herself, yet she held it effortlessly. The way her brow furrowed in thought, the way she hugged those books as though they were her armour against the world it all made him want to pull her closer, to strip away her defences and show her that she didn’t need to carry everything on her own.

He pushed off the wall with an almost lazy grace, slipping seamlessly into the flow of students. To anyone watching, he would seem like just another young man heading toward his next task. But every step he took was deliberate, calculated. He kept a discreet distance, his sharp mind tracking her every movement without drawing attention to himself.

As she turned the corner, her destination clear, Coriolanus quickened his pace. The library loomed ahead, its heavy oak doors propped open for the last wave of students filtering in. He adjusted his stride, ensuring he reached the entrance just moments before her. The timing was everything, and he had perfected this act of apparent coincidence.

When he arrived at the library door, he paused, hand resting lightly on the wood, as though debating whether to enter. In truth, he was waiting. He could hear her measured footsteps drawing nearer, the faint shuffle of pages as she adjusted her books. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, a predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She doesn’t even know I’m here, he thought, the thrill of the moment making his pulse quicken. Just a little closer, my girl. So close now.

He could almost feel her presence before she emerged into view her scent, faint but distinct, the quiet hum of her energy that seemed to surround her like a shield. He waited, eyes fixed on the door, anticipating the exact second she would appear. When she finally rounded the corner, there was a brief moment where their gazes could have collided. But she didn’t look up.

She approached, her attention focused straight ahead, her gaze unwavering. Coriolanus moved, pulling the door open with a practised ease that felt almost natural. He stepped aside, his hand lingering on the door as he spoke, his voice smooth and refined.

“After you,” he said, a trace of a smile curling his lips.

Startled by the unexpected gesture, she glanced up, her expression softening into polite gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quiet yet melodic, like the soft trill of a bird at dawn. Her gaze lingered on him for only a moment fleeting, yet enough to send a rush of heat coursing through his veins. And then she was gone, slipping past him and disappearing into the tranquil, book-lined expanse of the library.

Coriolanus’s pulse quickened, though his face remained composed, the perfect mask of indifference. Inside, however, a storm brewed. Her voice echoed in his mind, the simple thank you reverberating with an intimacy that left him dizzy. He followed her inside, his fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe, savouring the faint warmth it seemed to hold from her touch as he let it swing shut behind him.

The library was hushed, serene a cathedral of knowledge but to Coriolanus, it became something else entirely: a sanctuary for his obsession. Every creak of the floorboards beneath his polished boots felt like a ripple in the stillness, his every step calculated as he trailed her. Not too close. Not yet. She moved with purpose, her figure weaving through the maze of shelves like a shadow, each movement deliberate yet effortlessly graceful.

When she finally settled at a table near the large bay window, he stopped in the shadows of a nearby aisle, his gaze sharpening as it latched onto her. She placed her books in a neat stack, the delicate arc of her wrist as she adjusted them nearly unbearable to watch. Her brow furrowed slightly as she began to read, her lips parting just enough to hint at the silent rhythm of her thoughts.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. There was something maddeningly intimate about seeing her like this unguarded, immersed, unaware of the effect she had on him. The light streaming through the window cast her in soft hues, making her appear almost ethereal, and Coriolanus’s mind began to wander.

What would it feel like to shatter her calm? To lean in close enough that she had no choice but to notice him, to look up at him with those wide, unsuspecting eyes? Would her voice tremble if he spoke her name, the way it trembled in his imagination when he was alone late at night? Would her lips part with that same subtle allure if he dared to touch her hand, her face, her—

He clenched his jaw, tearing himself from the spiral of forbidden thoughts with an exhale that barely masked his frustration. She was so close, and yet impossibly out of reach, a cruel tease to the hunger he hadn’t yet dared to confront. For now, he would remain in the background, watching, waiting, letting his desires simmer beneath the surface. But in the dark corners of his mind, a vow was forming: one day, she wouldn’t be able to ignore him. One day, she would be his.

He selected a table nearby close enough to observe, far enough to avoid suspicion. Sliding into the chair with careful precision, he arranged a few books in front of him, meaningless tomes chosen at random, mere props for his façade. The titles didn’t matter. What mattered was his vantage point. From here, he could watch her uninterrupted, unnoticed, and unchallenged.

The sunlight streaming through the window painted her in an ethereal glow, bathing her features in soft, golden light. It was as if the universe conspired to highlight her beauty solely for him. She reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her slender fingers moving with effortless grace. Her focus remained entirely on the book in front of her, her lips faintly parted in concentration.

Coriolanus’s gaze lingered, hungry yet controlled, devouring every detail of her quiet movements. The curve of her neck as she leaned forward, the delicate furrow of her brow it all felt impossibly intimate, as though she were sharing secrets with him alone.

In his mind, she wasn’t just a girl. She was the girl. Perfect. Untouchable. The embodiment of everything he yearned for but could not yet claim. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was an ideal, a symbol of something greater. When he allowed his imagination to wander something he often indulged in when it came to her he could see it all so clearly.

She would sit beside him one day, poised and dignified, her quiet grace commanding a room in ways no words ever could. She would be the First Lady of Panem, the perfect complement to his rule. Together, they would project an image of power and unity, a vision of perfection that the Capitol would idolise and the districts would fear. He allowed himself to dream of her walking at his side in the Capitol’s grand halls, her every movement an echo of his control. Our control, he corrected himself.

And when the time came, she would bear his children his heirs perfect extensions of their union. She would be a doting housewife, tending to their home, and raising their children with all the love and care he knew she had in her. In the public eye, she would be the epitome of grace and motherhood, always poised, always revered. Yet she would still remain vital, her presence indispensable as his First Lady, supporting him, shaping the image of Panem's future with every carefully crafted word and action.

Why would she need anything else? Coriolanus thought darkly, the edges of his mind sharpening as the fantasy took root. Why would she want a career, a life outside their shared vision, when her true purpose would lie at his side, nurturing their family and cementing their legacy? Her talents and her intellect could be better put to use in other, more appropriate ways. A career would only distract her from what truly mattered: him, their children, their future.

No, he would make sure she saw it that way. He would make her see it that way. After all, who else could offer her a life so perfectly tailored to her? She won’t need to dream of anything else, he mused with a quiet, satisfied smile. Her place is here, with me, where she belongs.

And yet, here she was, utterly oblivious to his existence. The thought stung, a sharp reminder of how far he still had to go. But it didn’t matter. She would notice him eventually. He would make sure of it.

She’s mine, he thought, his fingers curling around the spine of a book he had no intention of reading. She just doesn’t know it yet.

His fingers brushed the cover of the book in front of him, though he made no move to open it. His attention remained fixed, darting between her and the room around them assessing the space, the people, the exits. Each detail was catalogued each movement of the room mapped in his mind. Nothing was left to chance. This was no fleeting infatuation it was an obsession, controlled, deliberate, calculated.

He knew more about her than he should. Her favourite coffee order, the way she always sat in the quiet corners of campus, lost in her thoughts, with the world completely unaware of her presence. And there was the subtle, almost imperceptible habit she had twirling her pen between her fingers when her mind wandered, a small gesture that somehow made him feel as if she were revealing a part of herself to him. Even though she had never spoken more than a few words to him, these details felt like secrets, intimately shared, as if they were his own.

The minutes stretched into hours, the soft hum of the library wrapping them both in a cocoon of stillness. To her, it was an ordinary afternoon another in a long line of study sessions and quiet solitude. But to Coriolanus, it was an intricately choreographed performance. Each movement, each glance, each breath was a part of his game, a carefully measured step toward embedding himself into her world.

He didn’t need to speak to her not yet. The thrill, the power, lay in the waiting, in the quiet observation, in learning everything there was to know before making his move. One day, she would look up and realise he had always been there, patiently building the foundation of something inevitable.

His lips twitched into a fleeting, almost imperceptible smile as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving her. This was just the beginning. Soon, the pieces would fall into place, and when the time came, she would have no choice but to fall in line. She was his. He had already decided. This was only the beginning.

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married-2-the-music · 1 year ago

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K-pop Discography Deep Dives: Girls Generation / SNSD (Part ONE)

Girls’ Generation debuted in 2007, with nine members: Taeyeon, Seohyun, Yoona, Yuri, Tiffany, Jessica (who left in 2014), Sunny, Sooyoung, and Hyoyeon, and soon became one of the most popular groups of the 2nd generation of k-pop with their catchy retro songs and down-to-earth image. Also, I’ll be using the names Girls Generation and SNSD (Sonoshidae, their Korean name) interchangeably through this.

Here are my credentials: So, I’m absolutely a fan of Girls’ Generation, although I’m in that weird space where I’m more than a casual one yet not quite a SONE (a full fan), but just like with Sunmi, I have a feeling that this deep dive will make me one. I’ve heard almost all of their title tracks, and a decent amount of b-sides, but since they have over 100 songs, I’m sure I’ll find some new ones to love too. I’m also a fan of both Taeyeon and Tiffany’s solo careers.

Their 2007 debut was Into The New World, and I honestly do not know what to say about this song. It was the reason I wanted to do this review in the first place, because in my opinion, it’s the best k-pop song of all time, and I’m not even a SONE. It’s upbeat and ultra-poppy, cheesy as hell, wonderfully hopeful, and has an instantly recognizable, soaring chorus that I can sing from memory (although not as well). I’ve probably seen this MV dozens of times, but I still chuckle at the dance break and can’t stop smiling at the take-off in the last bridge and how young they are, just barely older than I was when I became a k-pop fan. In the years after Into The New World was released, it’s become an important protest song in Korea, and to many now—myself included—it’s more than just what it was meant to be.

Full warning: there is no way that I could view any song fairly after this strong a debut, but I do really like the song Girls Generation, and actually didn’t know that this was a cover until this deep dive, since I can only associate it with them. It’s very bubblegum from its first moment, heavier on the aegyo than its counterpart, but the song’s slower pre-chorus, SNSD’s great voices, and that smash of a chorus manage to prevent the cutesiness from being overwhelming.

From the 1st album, simply entitled Girls Generation, I enjoyed the springy, vintage (somewhat Christmasy?) vibes of Ooh La La, the lovely harmonizing in Complete and Tinkerbell, the elegant classical flourishes in the background of Kissing You, and the guitar and excellent vocals in Honey. Overall this album feels incredibly 2nd gen, and gave me waves of nostalgia.

Gee is probably one of Girls’ Generation’s most well-known songs, and it’s easy to see why. With simple but fun choreography, and a chorus that constantly walks the tightrope of being incessantly catchy and just a little grating, it’s a total earworm. It takes a lot to make me enjoy such a cutesy song, but I think it was the combination of nostalgia and humor or maybe just how much I wanted to dance, and enjoy this one I did. As an aside, I’d forgotten that Minho from SHINee makes a cameo in this video, so that was a nice surprise.

From the EP, Gee, I had two main hidden gems. Way To Go is very much the kind of inspiring, upbeat bubblegum that I love, and also feels very nostalgic. Dear Mom, as I expected, is more of a ballad, and reminds me a little of Chung Ha’s Goodnight My Princess, with a sweet, heartfelt message to the girls’ mothers that made me text mine and ask how she’s doing. (Love you, Mom!)

Genie (or in Korean, “Tell Me Your Wish”) is a song that I thought was released later into their careers, with the slightly more mature image it uses. While still very bubblegum, it’s more polished, with a 70’s / 80’s synth background that began SNSD’s long run of retro-inspired singles. This isn’t one of my favorites of theirs, probably because in the years since it’s come out so, so, so many more k-pop songs have used the same style and thus it doesn’t sound as unique as some of their other tracks. I do still like it though.

From the EP, Genie, I had a good time dancing to the electronic beats of Etude, and the hrd-hitting synths of Boyfriend. One Year Later is a collaboration between Jessica and Onew from SHINee, so I was drawn to it right away; it chooses an understated coffee-shop feel that eventually blossoms into a strong ballad that really suits the warmth of their voices, and serves as a great album closer.

Oh! goes back on the somewhat more mature image that Genie established, going for a cheerleader concept, but sticks with the retro pop, this time pulling from a much more 80’s video game synth. It’s very much emblematic of the era it’s from with the nearly cloying aegyo, but unlike with Gee, most of that is in the MV and less so in the song. I like this one too, more than Gee, but I don’t find myself repeating it that much; I think it needs more of a bridge.

Run Devil Run is the second single from this album, and was highly unusual for the time since “cutesy” girl groups did not do this kind of hard-hitting synth. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still very much a pop song, but today it would be considered “girl crush”, like TWICE’s later-career pivot with Fancy and I Can’t Stop Me. I was worried the first time I heard this one that it would have an anti-drop, but thankfully the vocalizing in the second half of the chorus assuaged my worries. I actually showed this song to a friend of mine who enjoyed it so much that she bought it! And now “you better run, run, run, run” is stuck in my head for the foreseeable future, which I suppose is my own fault, isn’t it?

From the repackage album, Run Devil Run, I had a lot to choose from as a hidden gem. I enjoyed the choppy hook of Echo, the runway-ready confidence in Show! Show! Show!, the full-speed-ahead chiptune in Stick Wit’ U, and of course Key from SHINee’s feature in the youthful Boys & Girls.

Hoot is next up, and besides Into The New World, is my favorite so far. For some reason, it’s not talked about much as one of SNSD’s best singles, which always boggles my mind, because it’s just so delightful. I mean, it’s a spoof of classic spy movies with a percussive 60’s retro beat and such good clothes! That vocalizing under the last chorus gets me singing along every time. I even had a poster of it on my wall in high school, and it was the first k-pop choreography that I learned (albeit, very badly; I looked like a dying chicken). My only gripe is that I have no idea why this song is called Hoot and not Shoot or Trouble, which both would’ve been better names, but I digress. From the EP, my hidden gem was the jazzy, ballroom dance inspired Snowy Wish.

The Boys, admittedly, is one of those songs that I appreciate more than I actually like. I respect that it’s a classic and an important moment for k-pop, but as one reviewer said, “it feels more like a spectacle than a song, but what a spectacle it is.” Though it’s very catchy and I do hum along whenever it comes up on my shuffle, I’ve just never been a fan of anti-drop choruses, and even when they’re done well (like here or in many BTS songs), I always find myself thinking how much more I would like the song if it was changed. It feels more like a 2NE1 song than an SNSD one, though they sell it pretty well and their vocals make it at least twice as enjoyable.

From the album, The Boys, I enjoyed the dancefloor beats of Telepathy, the interesting distortion and slowdowns in Trick, the roller disco of Vitamin, the classical flourishes in My J, and especially the jazzy super-spy influence in Top Secret, which was my hidden gem and feels like a natural successor to Hoot. I also enjoyed Mr. Taxi’s Korean version, but we’ll discuss that later.

I Got A Boy, like The Boys, is a song that I appreciate more than actually enjoy. Also like The Boys, it’s a song that popularized what’s now not uncommon in k-pop: the trend of songs that are a hodge-podge of genres and tempos, and admittedly, pulls it off. I’m not the biggest fan of the hip-hop segments, but the 1st chorus, the bridge, and the hook of “here comes trouble” are pretty great. I find myself caught off guard by the breakdown and switch up every time, even though I know it’s coming, which I know is the point, but it gives me a bit of whiplash, truth be told. This is more a me thing than an issue with the song, though, because it achieves exactly what it sets out to do.

From the album, though I liked both the choppiness of Talk Talk’s chorus and the guitar breakdown in Express 999, my hidden gem was absolutely the super catchy Dancing Queen. Though it’s named after the ABBA song, its very specific instrumental really reminds me of The Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour.

Mr. Mr. is one of those songs that arrives, like many of SNSD’s best tracks, with a “let’s go!” and wastes no time going into its excellent chorus. It pulls from bonafide disco, and feels like the best combination between a ballroom dance in its slower moments and a club hit in its faster ones. Its bridge and last chorus’ high note is, and I don’t say this lightly, perfection, and I can never resist replaying it at least once (or mouthing along). From the EP, my hidden gem was the pathos-driven Goodbye, though I’m sure it connected more with me since this was Jessica’s last release with SNSD, and I’m sad to hear her and her great vocals go. It’s hard to make a ballad engaging, but this is a catchy, somewhat bittersweet one, which is a personal weakness of mine.

We’re ending with Mr. Mr. for this week because as mentioned, Jessica didn’t renew her contract after the seven years were up, and thus this makes for a natural stopping point. Next time, we’ll be doing a boy group supplemental and part two of this Girls Generation deep dive. Tschüss!

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randomfoggytiger · 7 months ago

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Kitchener Essences: Reddit Descriptions

(Credit to: Ellie-Jean Royden.)

Top, L to R: Dramatic, Natural, Gamine, Classic

Bottom, L to R: Romantic, Ingenue, Ethereal

I found some excellent Reddit comments analyzing the similarities and differences between the Essences. Unable to squeeze them into a previous post, I put them down here as their own.

Comparing the Essences

Top, L to R: Dramatic and Romantic.

Bottom Left: Dramatic and Gamine.

Bottom Right: Gamine and Ethereal.

Redditor La_danse_banana_slug explains:

I see Natural faces as having a very open feeling, with the energy seemingly radiating outward like petals on a daisy, or cascading downward like a bubbly waterfall. They seem to have extra freshness, movement and vivaciousness, as if animated by an invisible breeze. I think this openness can come across as immediate and intimate, in a way that is (depending on the person/mood) friendly, trustworthy, sexy, fun, direct, relaxed, strong/sporty. Obviously I'm just talking about first impressions; our actual personalities could be anything, of course.

Someone with a lot of Natural essence might be typecast as an edgy rocker with tousled hair who can tour tirelessly; or a grounded person who loves hiking with their dog; or as everyone's favorite teacher; or one of those cool girls who can look amazing in their boyfriend's t-shirts; or as an America's Sweetheart type movie star with a big sparkling, suntanned smile. Unfussy, casual, energetic, appealing.

Gamines and Ingenues are also high-energy, but Ingenue is more of a soft, bubbly effervescence, and Gamine is more of an electric, sparky zigzag. Whereas Natural is a deep breath of fresh air, a rolling ocean wave on a sunny beach.

Dramatic and Ethereal, like Natural, both harmonize well with length. But Dramatic is sharper, sleeker, more structured. And Ethereal is more diaphanous, delicate, undulating S curve.

Romantic (particularly the TiB essence) and Natural are both earthy and sensual, but Romantic is more glam and luxe (which is tricky, as I think Natural can be very glam too in a more energetic bold way, like Cindy Crawford; when they're too polished and elaborate, like Liz Taylor, they can look a little trapped). They also both come across as mature and capable, IMO.

Classics and Naturals both can come across as very grounded and level-headed. Naturals are just a little more free and relaxed about it, while Classics have a more structured, decorous version of "down to Earth."

When I think of quintessential Natural vibes, even though these people may have more essences in the mix, I think of Harrison Ford as Han Solo; Shakira in her Whenever/Wherever video; Brooke Shields, Robert Redford, Cameron Diaz or Jackie Chan in anything; Daryl Hannah in Splash; Jennifer Lawrence in The Hunger Games; Julia Roberts in Mystic Pizza; Nina Simone or Carly Simon performing; Meg Ryan in Sleepless in Seattle; Wonder Woman and Xena; Kate Hudson and Fairuza Balk in Almost Famous; Caroline de Maigret being "effortlessly undone Parisian chic;" Sandra Oh in Sideways; Cindy Crawford in that Pepsi commercial; Janet Jackson in the Love Will Never Do Without You video; Sandra Bullock in Practical Magic.

Redditor CottonCandyAngel333 compares the essences to shapes

I define natural essence as kind of like a square, sturdy and reliable. Natural essence is friendly and approachable. A lot of naturals read as sweet in some way. I see a lot of people define a natural as having openness. Naturals can also give off an athletic vibe, this can range from a boyish, sporty vibe to an elegant ballerina vibe. Natural features are usually described as squared off, wide, blunt, and open. I know some people take these words harshly, which is unfortunate, but I do find these to be accurate descriptors.

Compared to other essence types

Dramatic is sharp and long, a triangle. They don’t seem as open and can read as more intense then a natural. Dramatics sometimes share bluntness with naturals and some naturals have a dramatics length.

Gamine is sharp and small, a teardrop. They may seem more mischievous and playful compared to a natural and they’ll be more compact in frame. Gamines read as youthful which can look similar to a naturals sweet look, a naturals athletic ness and also resonate with the boyish ness of some gamines.

Classic is even and balanced, an oval. Some classics can give off a vibe anywhere from stuffy to elegant, which makes them less approachable and easy going then a natural. Descriptor wise, I really don’t see a lot of similarities between classics and naturals, but I feel like people mix these types a lot.

Ingenue is small and rounded, a circle. They’re delicate in frame and youthful or innocent in appearance. They’ll be smaller in frame then a natural. Natural and ingenue both carry a sweet and innocent look, which leads to them getting mixed up a fair bit.

Romantics are full and curved, a heart. Romantics carry a womanly maturity to them which can read as sweet and open, or haughty. They’re softer then a natural. A romantics curves are softly wide and that soft wide can sometimes be confused as a naturals bluntness. They can both read as sweet an open as well.

Ethereal is curved and elongated, an S. Ethereals are frail in frame and delicate in features. They aren’t sturdy like a natural. Ethereals can carry some width like naturals, such as wide set eyes, but that width is usually just in the face, not in body. Flowy clothing can suit both as they both look good in softly defined clothing.

#randomfashiontiger #Kitchener Essence #John Kitchener #Essence #interesting #for those who are curious #mine #I guess?#Ellie-Jean Royden #Reddit

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sk-lumen · 2 years ago

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do you think as a high value woman, it's fine to have one night stands probably once in a while? as long as you're doing it on your own terms?

Hi darling,

Listen, I can talk about high value mindset and elegance for hours, but at the end of the day, your life has to work for you.

I know it's not easy, in this day and age, to resist the temptation of casual hook-ups (or FWB, F buddies and whatever other situationships). Because of how society at large is set up, it's easy to feel lonely, disconnected, hungry for some deeper connection. If anything, I would say society as we see it today was designed to keep people this way: unhappy and disconnected. Media normalizes it, men are taught to feel entitled to it (or at least to normalize it as well), and that leaves many women thinking they have no choice but settle for crumbs if they are to have their needs for affection/intimacy met.

Or, there's also another side to the story. Men (or any gender, goes either way) that are heartbroken from past relationships find themselves emotionally unavailable or unable to invest 100% into a relationship again, they're still healing. But they also don't want to be deprived of affection, intimacy, feeling wanted or loved, even if for a night/arrangement.

I'm not going to say it's easy to say no. We're all human. We have needs, whether they're physical, mental or emotional. That's one truth, that I find no point denying.

Here's another truth: by principle situationships are a bad idea because at the end of the day, most often someone always ends up hurt, usually you as the woman. You give the most (your sacred feminine energy, your nurturing, your body, your health, your time)... and receive the least (a night of pleasure or let's be real, not even that much). Women become emotionally attached through physical intimacy; you can negotiate your way around that fact with self-denial bravado or intellectual discourse all day, but it doesn't change it. And that's the least of worries. As a woman, you can get pregnant, or you can end up with who knows what STDs or STI's - and yes, that is an essential, mature, responsible conversation to have with yourself and the respective partner(s). You can't toy with your health like that.

That being said, if "on your own terms" is your loophole to having it both ways, both having your high value mindset and your emotional/physical needs met... if that means only getting involved with men that you've carefully vetted in every important sense of the word, and you find that this arrangement works for you now and then, then power to you, and I say that unironically. Just make sure to check in with yourself often and well, check with your intuition that it's the right thing for you.

I would never judge a woman that chooses to do so. I will always celebrate a woman's right to choose for herself. Making messy choices doesn't mean you suddenly lose your high value woman status, it just means you're human. But you do owe it to yourself to learn from the past, and make better choices for your overall happiness.

And listen, this glow up lifestyle is not a religion, there's no bible of rules or values you have to hold yourself up to infallibly or you're out. What I and many other ambitious, lovely, go-getter ladies write about here on Tumblr are all guidelines and sensible advice to help you forward. The focus is to find what works for you. What helps you become your best self.

(PS: I used male/female gender dynamic because that is the focus of my blog, that is what I have experience with and as such can best advise on. But you can apply this regardless of gender dynamic or orientation.)

Hope this helps.

Much love,

Lumen

#dating #relationships #level up #glow up threads #high value woman #high value mindset #ask #writings #essays #articles #auntie Lumen spilling the tea 🫖#(very interesting question)

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dat-town · 4 years ago

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not gonna miss this chance

Characters: Han Seojun & soloist!female reader

Genre: fluff

Setting: true beauty au, set a year after the tv show’s ending timeline

Summary: Your career is on the verge of ending, hence your management puts you up to do a duet with the infamous Han Seojun. You have heard too many rumours about him to keep track of and yet, none of them could have prepared you for the feelings that came with meeting him.

Words: 4.1k

Self indulgent little snippet because he deserves happiness too.

You had heard of Han Seojun before meeting him, of course you had. Everybody who was in the industry had heard of the hot trend of a Newstagram star-turned idol and his band's shining debut from a year ago. They were told to have snatched teenage girls hearts all over Korea with their good looks and soulful music. You had heard their title track and you had to admit it was nice but nice wasn't enough in a cut-throat industry like entertainment.

Look at you, starting training at twelve, debuting at fifteen and now barely twenty-one you were on the verge of becoming a thrown away doll. Once you had been called cute and the it girl of your generation and now? People were saying you got boring just because your music had matured. Gosh, you couldn't keep singing about first love like your hit song had been for the rest of your life for god's sake. Your last album had been a flop, your company had been losing money and you were still afraid that even with a year left of your contract, they would cut you. But your manager had begged them for a chance and here it was: a collaboration with the newest love of Korea.

But the thing was, Han Seojun had quite a reputation and you didn't know who to believe. Some said he was well-mannered and hard-working. Others gossiped that he was always flirting with his makeup artists and Chen claimed he had been rude to her even when he had just been a ‘nobody’. Not that you were particularly fond of Chen either but as a fellow solo female singer you were a tad bit worried how the infamous singer would treat you.

Well, standing in front of Move Entertainment, you were just about to find out. Taking a shallow breath you followed your manager's lead, bowing to the receptionist and getting into the elevator after taking your visitor's badge. You had heard the company has gone through many changes after the executives were replaced due to the revealed Seyeon scandal but everything looked expensive, shiny and new, unlike in your small agency.

“Hey, I’m Lim Heekyung, nice to meet you. Seojun will be in a minute, too,” a woman in a pantsuit walked up to you on the right floor with a confident smile as she introduced herself. She led you to a meeting room which was apparently customized for a few people only and started preparing papers. She looked excited which was a relief and nice to see, at least someone from Move Entertainment was happy for this project apparently. You were a bit afraid they would see you like a leech, trying to cling onto their new star’s popularity.

“Shall we start? Seojun is a fan of dramatic entrances anyways,” Miss Lim laughed joyfully as if it wasn’t new to her that the idol didn’t make it on time. Ah yeah, you had heard rumours saying that he had something on the company and that was why they were so lenient with him.

You sat in silence, let your manager do the talk about the collaboration project. Seojun could play the guitar, you could play the piano, apparently it was perfect for a ballad duet, though if you used instruments yourself it added to the preparations time. But luckily, there was a songwriter named Leo at the company who had already sent in a few samples specifically for Seojun, so you didn’t have to start from zero.

“Ah, I see you started without me. What did I miss?” A tall boy opened the door wide and flipped down onto the chair across you casually. He had grown into his lanky limbs and with those wide shoulders hugged by the leather jacket, helix earrings in one ear and soft brown hair brushed to one side, it wasn’t a surprise how many female fans swooned over him. But there were a lot of handsome boys in the business, just his looks – no matter how confident he was in them based on the way he carried himself – wouldn’t make a difference.

Miss Lim patiently let Seojun know about the advances and only when she mentioned your name, did the boy glance at you. His dark brown eyes had a sharp form, just as piercing as his gaze, but the cunning smile spreading over his lips softened it a bit. He looked at you as if he wanted to see through you, to figure out how he should have approached you. You expected a snarky or arrogant comment, but in the end, he just flashed a blinding smile at you, one you could see on his posters, before turning back to Miss Lim.

“What’s the schedule?” he asked simply and you both were notified about the deadline of deciding and finalizing the song, the dates of planned recording sessions and the photoshoot. Since there would be no promotion period, it all would be done within a month and half from start to finish. You were a bit relieved hearing that and leave Move Entertainment without any confrontation.

You thought you were good at masking your wary feelings since the further meetings went well and the first recording session went okay-ish. Although both of you had been a bit scolded by the producer for not putting enough feelings into your singing. He claimed that the demo sent by Leo was much more emotional which made Seojun scoff and mumble under his nose. The PD called it for a day, making you promise to practice for next time and one by one they all left. Your manager told you that he would bring the car while you refresh yourself in the bathroom, so you really didn’t expect anyone to wait for you when you stepped out of the restroom, much less Han Seojun.

"Spit it out," he bit out barely glancing your way as he leaned against the corridor’s wall.

"What?" you spluttered as you were really taken aback by his out of blue appearance and question. The guy let out a tired sigh at your obliviousness and pushed himself away from the wall just to walk up to you, towering over your height with his.

"You look at me as if I killed your hamster or something. Which rumour about me bothers you? I fucking can't keep walking on eggshells around you, especially when it's just the two of us," he tsked and you gulped at the sudden called out. You didn’t think it bothered him, or that he was considerate enough to ‘walk on eggshells around you’, you merely thought he was so distant from everybody. It was still better than what Chen had told you.

"Oh, I… nothing. It's stupid. Sorry," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed for your your actions but Seojun apparently wasn’t satisfied without a real answer as he carried on:

"I didn't bully kids in high school but I threatened ones that deserved it, I didn't only get a pity chance from the entertainment, one of our makeup artists is actually one of my best friends, I'm not…"

"Chen told me you are rude and arrogant and have no respect for girls," you blurted out to stop him from speaking because you felt like you didn’t deserve to hear all that. He didn’t owe you any explanation for the way he was. You were just co-workers for a project after all, you had no place in his life, nor he had in yours, so he shouldn’t have been that bothered by your opinion but you understood that he felt uncomfortable due to your silent accusations.

Hearing your hasty interruption, the singer scoffed, a laugh-like sound leaving his mouth.

"Well, I have no respect for girls like Chen who harass my friends and turn their lives into hell just to go on a date with me," he said and it made you blink slowly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Check your facts before you go around believing such crap," Seojun stepped back with a roll of his eyes.

The whole situation made you feel made about how you acted, so you wished to apologise but it fell from your lips all too carelessly: "Sorry, I was just worried. This is my last chance, so–"

"Last chance?" the guy quirked a brow at you, curious but you quickly waved his question away.

"Nevermind, I just need this song to do well."

"Of course, it will. I'm Han Seojun, it will turn to gold under my hands," he grinned and made eccentric gestures as if he was about to do magic. You couldn't help a smile. “Or well, vocal chords.”

And turn it to gold, he did.

The rest of your recording sessions went smoother, even the previously grumpy PD complimented your for the development in your chemistry. Funny, you wouldn’t have thought that the wall pulled up between the two of you mattered that much, but at least you didn’t have a knot in your stomach, nor did you worry about every small thing you did around Han Seojun. He also acted more casual, more playful, joking around when both of you had a bit of time to take a breather. He snapped silly pictures, showed off with his height, smirked when he got too close but despite all his bravado and lowkey flirting, you believed even he wouldn’t have jeopardised his career over something like this.

Maybe that's why wrapping up the recording felt a tad bit weird: you got used to his presence, his jokes, his beautiful, deep voice that you could have fallen asleep to. Sure, sometimes he was cocky, a bit rough around the edges but he was a great singer and a fun guy. The project seemed to work out well and you loved it a lot, so you hoped the listeners would appreciate it as well.

But before all that you had one photo shoot together for the promotional pictures and the single's cover. You were grateful for the simple pastel colour background and elegant setting. The warm light latte colour and the clock in the background really fit the song's vibe. Luckily, your dress was decent and pretty as well, you didn't have to feel uncomfortable in it at least. However, you didn’t expect that happy yelp coming from one of the makeup artists stepping into the dressing room. You turned to face the girl, wondering whether she was your fan judged by her excitement.

"Oh my! I'm so happy to finally meet you! Seojun told us about you so much!" she beamed at you which obviously took you back. Well, that you didn’t expect at all. He spoke of you to others? Ah. Apparently to the makeup artist who was most probably that certain one of his best friends he had told you about?

"Don't exaggerate, Imju, I mentioned her like what… once?" Seojun walked in on cue. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to avert the topic. "How's Suho?"

You had know idea who that said guy was but after a moment or two you could breathe properly once again while listening to their chatting.

“Just the usual. He’s excited about your duet.”

“Of course, he is,” Seojun grinned, a bit snarky but you could hear the proud undertones of it. When he looked at you, you were surprised by him leaning close though as he quieted down until only you could hear it. “Don’t worry, Jugyeong is really good and just stop her if she gets too gossip-y.”

“Are you talking about me behind my back, hah, Han Seojun?” The pretty girl called Jugyeong raised her fist as if she was about to hit the idol but he just laughed it off and left you two alone when he was hurried onto the set to start with his individual shoots.

“Have you known each other for a long time?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you were seated to get your makeup from her.

“Ah, almost 4 years, I think. We went to high school together. Plus, he’s best friends with my boyfriend. Though, they are always bickering like a married couple,” Jugyeong chuckled joyfully as she started with the cushion. You closed your eyes, listening as she kept going on about the time when Seojun had been obsessed with his motorbike, getting into trouble with his mother. It was strange hearing about a whole other side of him, mama's boy but the image tugged on your mouth, making you smile even though you weren't sure you had the right to know all that. You also learned that Seojun's sister was dating Jugyeong's brother and you felt so involved with the girl's trust albeit it was your last meeting, you were sure Seojun must have only told good things about you.

Hence, you felt shy under his knowing gaze when you walked out of the dressing room. He must have known that Jugyeong couldn't shut up for the life of her, so he looked a bit uncertain, too, stretching the back of his neck, forcing a cunning smile onto his smile when you took your place next to him.

To fit the ballad's theme, the setting was a piano decorated with flowers and you were instructed to sit beside him as if you were about to play a four hands piece. As you did what you had been told, you were very much aware of the way your arms brushed, his long fingers over the keys close to yours, his smile small but genuine.

"Great, great, guys! Someone help her onto the piano and Seojun, stand in front of her," the photographer directed the next scene but before any staff members would have rushed up to you, the singer next to you shushed them.

"I can do it," he insisted as he stood up and looked you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded while holding your breath back before Seojun put his hands on your waist above the fluffy tulle skirt part and counting on three, he lifted you onto the lid of the beautiful instrument.

You crossed your legs, watching in awe as your pink skirt fell down on waves but your breath hitched for an entirely different reason when you looked up, gaze meeting Seojun's feline eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look at you like that, lacking playfulness or suspicion or curiosity. He looked open, vulnerable, outright starstruck. Your lips parted meaning to ask something but your brain shut off when you heard the shutter of the camera go down and the director yelling compliments at you. It made you snap out of it and later, you blamed the evident blush on your cheeks on the makeup. Seojun blinked too, his guarded expression back in no time, finishing the photo shoot professionally, always lingering close to you, but never touching you. Even though you wouldn’t have minded.

"Hey," Seojun peeked into your dressing room just as you were about to leave, packing up, with a smile on his mouth and sparkles in his deep brown eyes. But unlike half an hour ago when he wore a fancy suit and looked at you like a prince would have looked at his princess, he acted just as casual as he looked in his denim jacket over dark tee. "Wanna grab something with me if you finished for today?"

His question took you back but first thing first you glanced towards your manager, eyes begging for permission which you had gotten with a sigh.

"Just be discreet and call me if you need me to pick you up," your manager shrugged, leaving you two alone with a knowing look that told you to be careful. You didn't need to be told though, you knew how much depended on the current public response to your image.

"Seems like a green light. Have you thought of anything specific?" you turned back to the boy with a subtle smile.

"Not really but I know a few less frequent, secluded places to avoid much talk about us," he said and you nodded, following his lead. Masks, caps and hoodies on, you barely talk on your way to the tent with the lovely ahjumma who welcomed Seojun (two heads taller than her) with a pinch of his cheeks and told you to get seated.

"Are you a regular here?" you inquire, carefully pulling down your mask since not many people are around.

"You could say that," the boy hummed letting you adjust to the place at your own pace, not pressuring you with extra reassessments about how safe it is there. Yet, he is so casual as if he wasn't afraid of a getting mobbed by Dispatch out of the blue. Not that it happened to you a lot of times but you heard stories and at such a crucial time in your career, you feared something like that more than anything.

"Do you want to come up to mine instead?" Seojun blurted out suddenly which made you wide eyed in a span of a moment as you splattered out a surprised yelp. "Come on, I don't mean anything by it. You just look really nervous being in the public," the singer said, his deep voice softening, soothing by the end and you needed to take a breather before answering. You didn't think it was so obvious but apparently you had never been a good liar with him.

In the end, you decided on going over to Seojun's place, so he asked the ahjumma to pack your food to go and you headed towards his flat a few blocks from the company. It was a small but cozy place, much softer and brighter than you expected, lots of pastels and photos of friends and family. While the boy busied himself in the kitchen, getting you plates, chopsticks and beer, you were encouraged to look around and you couldn't help but smile at his photos with not only his band members but high school friends, too. You had seen photos of his graduation with Jugyeong, then another one of his debut with her and another guy. He was a recurring person on a lot of pictures, so you assumed that he was the so-called Suho.

"He's Jugyeong's boyfriend," Seojun affirmed as he walked up to you which you acknowledged with a hum and smiled at his photos with his sister and mother. The makeup artist was right when she said he was only tough on the outside.

"You knew Seyeon?" you whispered as your gaze shifted of a picture of three boys smiling widely into the camera. The middle one was the talented boy you had known from the news of his committed suicide. Such a tragedy.

"Uhum. We were best friends. Him, Suho and me," Seojun nodded and without having to ask, he told you how they had gotten to know each other, what were their favourite past time activities and how they fell apart when he died. You could see he was hurting even now as he was talking about it, so you grazed your fingers against his knuckles as though to say you were there for him to listen, or whatever he needed.

Talking about his best friends and how a group of guys including someone named Chorong stuck by his side over the years warmed your heart. It was nice to know that not everyone had it as lonely as you who basically missed out on high school and memories from that time to be able to turn your dreams into reality. Your only friends were also in the industry but it made things both easier and harder.

"What about you? What did you mean by this being your last chance?" Seojun asked like a loaded gun but after everything he had just told you, you knew you could trust him with this and being in the industry for a while now, he must have understood, too.

You told him about the rising expectations, about your image and your company's ultimatum. It actually felt nice to talk about with someone other than your manager. Especially since Seojun seemed to understand exactly why you felt conflicted over the matter. You have given your youth to this dream of yours, so giving up on it would have felt like betraying yourself and everyone who believed in you but you weren't sure you could give it another 10 years of your life no matter how much you liked music. You had decent CSATs result, maybe you could have applied for a university program. Seojun even offered to arrange a meeting between you and Suho who was studying to become a proper songwriter.

You talked for hours and ate the tteokbokki even though it had gotten cold long ago and you couldn't remember when was the last time you had felt so light. You felt giddy even with just the tiny bit of alcohol in your system by the time you knew it was time for you to go.

Once you had felt relieved knowing that promoting your duet would be only one performance but recently, you started dreading the moment because that meant that you wouldn't have any more excuse to see Seojun. In the backstage, this time around you greeted Jugyeong like an old friend and teased to give Seojun a funny makeup before walking up to your own assigned staff members. Your look was full of sparkles and glow fitting the silver colour of your dress, completing the ethereal vibe off the stage you were going to do and the beautiful song you had grown to love so much you held it close to your heart. The last rehearsals went smoothly and if you noticed Seojun's gaze lingering a bit too long, you didn't comment on it.

"Are you nervous?" he asked before the final recording and you knew it would have been unreasonable to deny it, so you replied with a small smile.

"A bit."

"Don't be. You're pretty and you'll do amazing," he reassured you and the way he said those words oh so easy. As if they were natural. As if he believed in you and maybe this was all the reassurance you needed because when you walked up onto the stage, not taking your eyes off his, it felt like it was just the two of you there. All the stress about not being good enough, about being judged for who you were and what you wanted to do with your life was subsided as you focused on the moment, just to sing this one song with one while trying to fight your heart's crazy beating.

You didn't really have the luxury to have crushes. You had always been concentrated on your work, you couldn't let yourself have distractions, especially since love scandals always affected girl worse than guy. At least that was what you told yourself for always putting up a wall around you and guarding your heart all too well. But during the past few weeks, between playful or flirty remarks, between smiles and ruffling hair, Seojun took apart your wall brick by brick even if he wasn't aware.

So it might have been only a few days since you had last seen him but in that rare moment of boredom, alone in your room, you realized that you missed him. Hell, you liked him and the feeling made me want to scream into your pillow as if you were a silly teenager. As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a new message and seeing the KakaoTalk ID made you shy.

duet partner, han seo jun

so...

i've been thinking

you

sounds dangerous but ok

duet partner, han seo jun

don't get sassy with me, miss

you

what have you been thinking about?

duet partner, han seo jun

that i don't want to miss my chance

there's this girl i like

i thought of asking her out

do you think she would say yes?

you

oh. well... why wouldn't she?

i mean, you are talented, handsome, funny and reliable

duet partner, han seo jun

and what about my job? it's busy and a bit crazy

don't you think it would be unfair of me to ask?

you

I think you should let her decide that

duet partner, han seo jun

okay

are you free on friday?

you

um, sure?

duet partner, han seo jun

cool, then go on a date with me?

#han seo jun x reader #seojun x reader #han seojun #han seo joon #true beauty #stories #i just wanted to give him a happy end after ep16 #that's what this is about

656 notes · View notes

duskholland · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Your Match || Mob!Tom Smut

Summary ↠ It’s always awkward when your current boyfriend meets your ex, but it’s a whole new level when it transpires that your ex-boyfriend is the leader of Tom’s rival mob...

Warnings ↠ 18+, contains mature nsfw material. There are extended warnings beneath the cut, but this is quite heavy.

Word count ↠ 5.9k

A/N ↠ Genuinely am shocked that this came out of my head tbh. It is very intense so please consult the warnings before you dive in ! The entire concept of the first half is very random and almost crack, but then the second half...phew. Sheesh. Thanks to V, mischiefandi, for suggesting I write in a hot Irish mobster as Y/N’s ex...love that for her, and I love you V. I hope you all enjoy this :)

This is a part of my mob!Tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. You don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense! You can find the other parts in my masterlist.

18+ do not touch this if you are a minor.

extended warnings: lol. mob themes including gun mention and punching, a broken nose ft minor mentions of blood, a bit of a dodgy ex who makes some uncomfortable comments, alcohol, possessive!jealous!Tom, d/s dynamics, soft!dom!Tom, mean!dom!Tom, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), spitting, orgasm denial and edging, guided masturbation, rough sex, doggy-style, like two minor instances of spanking, he calls her slut once. im not here to fuck around this goes hard so if you aren’t into rough stuff this isn’t for you. also includes unprotected sex -- please practise safe sex (condoms provide barriers against STIs as well as unwanted pregnancy. pls be safe irl). i would like mob!tom to rail me thank u. enjoy.

--------- Meet Your Match ---------

You’d never given much thought to the possibility of Tom meeting one of your exes. Why would you, when being with him is infinitely more satisfying, loving, and enjoyable than it had ever been with one of them?

But if you’d had to imagine it, you would’ve pictured it casually. Maybe you’d be out somewhere together - at a café, or a market, with Tom’s arm wrapped safely around you. You’d see your ex - whoever it may be - and there’d be an awkward encounter. The exchange of painful hellos and goodbyes, maybe some piercing stares, and pinched words. Then, you’d move on, and that would be that.

Never, in your wildest dreams, would you have imagined you’d run into your ex-boyfriend whilst in attendance at a meeting of the London mobs.

It’s a special event - a large, networking occasion, organised by Tom, as an opportunity for him to meet with his partners and rivals, as they come together to cordially bond over beer and discuss business plans. It’s hosted right in the centre of Piccadilly, in the elegant conference room of a luxurious hotel. You’re just starting to relax and settle in when you glance across the room and see him:

Aidan. Your ex-boyfriend. At… A meeting of the mobs of London?

“What the fuck,” you mutter. You almost drop your glass of champagne as you narrow your eyes and stare. The conference room is vast, adorned with glittering chandeliers and large banquet tables, but it’s undeniable: Aidan is here.

“Everything alright, love?” Tom’s by your side, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders. He’s in remarkably high spirits this evening. The event is fully underway, and judging by the snippets of conversation you’ve been hearing, Tom’s latest plans are coming into fruition - something about warehouses, and a shipment of class A drugs. But none of it matters now, because your mind is entirely elsewhere.

“No,” you state immediately.

Tom cranes his neck, his eyes seeking you out. You manage to drag your gaze away from Aidan for a brief second.

“What is it?” He’s looking at you with those deep, warm brown eyes, and his gaze is so tender it makes your breath hitch. One of Tom’s fingers moves up to caress your cheek, and you find yourself shifting guiltily on your feet.

“Who, exactly, did you invite to this meeting?” You ask your boyfriend, speaking in hushed tones. Your eyes slip back to Aidan, and you feel yourself relax as you note he’s still deep in conversation with a few men.

“Suppliers, rivals, allies… Anyone of importance, really.” Tom narrows his eyes, his thumb brushing over your chin as he looks at you closely. “Why?”

“Did you know that you’ve also invited my ex-boyfriend?”

Judging by the look of utter shock on Tom’s face, he had not, in fact, realised his fundamental truth.

“Who?” He asks immediately. His face shifts through several shades before settling on jealous, with his eyebrows bunched together.

You turn around, resting one hand on the broad shoulder of Tom’s suit before using your other to point out across the crowd.

“Aidan.”

Tom squints his eyes, a small rumbling noise travelling up his throat. “Aidan?” He repeats, his voice flooded with confusion. You hum affirmatively. “Bloke with the blond hair? Irish?” Again, a hum. Tom releases a short, curt chuckle. “Angel, he’s not called Aidan.”

“What?” You exclaim.

Tom releases a deep sigh. “That’s Gordy. He runs the Eastside.”

You feel your jaw loosen. A fake name. “Gordy Byrne?”

“The one and only.”

“Shit.”

You’ve been with Tom for a year. Over those long, fulfilling twelve months, you’ve picked up on several important key pieces of information about the London mob: it’s split into three factions, each sector run by a different figurehead. Tom and his family control the South-West, and they’re in constant disagreement with Gordy, of the East, and Monique, of the North. Each third is continuously testing the waters, trying to take over land, and supplies, and emerge as the solo Kingpin of London. The fragile alliance between the three families is constantly on the verge of disintegration.

And Gordy is your ex, who you’d met three years ago at the same exclusive club you’d worked in when you’d met Tom. Your relationship had lasted eight months and ended on equal terms as you’d mutually agreed the spark had fizzled away. Despite the considerable span of your relationship, you’d had no suspicions that he’d been involved with the mob. The thought is incredibly jarring.

“Seems like you have a type,” Tom comments, his voice entirely too flippant.

Before you can call him out on his apparent feelings of resentment, your evening takes a further turn as you realise Gordy has spotted you and is now working his way through the sea of people towards you.

He looks just as you remember: 6’2, blond, green-eyed. His shoulders are stocky and broad, and his suit bulges with disguised muscles. He maintains that signature swagger you’d come to associate with him, his eyes glinting as he throws out a wild smile. Your eyes catch on the presence of a few new golden teeth fixed in his mouth, and then to the tattooed knuckles that hang by his side.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Gordy greets, green eyes skimming across you appreciatively, “Who’d ‘a thought we’d meet again?”

All you can really do is let out a squeak of agreement, and pull away from Tom’s side to greet the man with a kiss on the cheek. The familiar scent of Gordy’s musky cologne drifts up your nose, and it makes your head spin.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you pull away, looking at him incredulously. His pale cheeks wear a scruff of fuzz, highlighting the high arches of his cheekbones.

“What are you doing here?” He returns, his Irish accent twanging. His eyes shift over to Tom, then back to you, and then they watch as Tom reaches out and carefully tangles his fingers with yours. “Wait…”

“Evening, mate,” Tom greets, voice a little clipped. You feel the grip on your hand tighten, and you let him reel you back into his side. You find home beneath Tom’s heavy arm as he repositions it across your shoulder, keeping you near. “I see you’ve already met my girlfriend.”

The air seems to flicker with tension.

“Interesting,” Gordy comments. He shifts his attention back to you, drawing the lines of your face with his curious eyes. “Didn’t take you for the type, Y/N. Would’ve stuck around if I’d thought you could handle this life.”

His words dig into you, and you find yourself clenching your teeth.

“You told me you worked in banking.”

“Oh, I do.” He runs his fingers down the front of his designer suit, winking. “The mob is quite a lucrative business.” He pauses, and something a little like guilt flashes over his face. “You know my real name, yeah? Gordy, not Aidan. Sorry about that. I hate the lies, but they’re for protection, y’know.”

You feel almost dizzy as you bring your glass of champagne to your lips and throw it back. The bubbles do little to soothe down your discomfort.

“Wow,” you manage. Your eyes shift up to Tom, who’s looking at Gordy with apprehension in his gaze. You understand why: for the past two months, Tom’s been engaged in a brutal turf-war with Gordy’s family over in the South-East. Men have died, shipments stolen. You know one of Tom’s primary motivations for the meeting tonight was to see if he could reach some kind of agreement with them, but the circumstances were tense enough as it was, before this.

“Isn’t this fun,” Gordy comments. He’s eyeing up Tom now, a cocky smirk hanging from his plush lower lips. “Well, Thomas, it’d seem you and I have a lot more in common than we’d thought, eh? Maybe we’ll be able to come to an agreement.”

Your stomach turns, and you feel Tom tighten his grip on your arm. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his tone is so severe that it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Don’t talk about Y/N like that,” he warns darkly. “We will not be making any deals tonight, Gordy.”

You raise your eyebrows, trying to meet his eyes but finding that Tom ignores your attempts and instead keeps staring straight ahead at your ex-boyfriend, a determined frown hanging from his thin lips.

“Why’s that, Thomas?” He quips.

“I don’t like your attitude, I don’t like your policies, and I don’t like the way you’re looking at my girlfriend.”

Gordy arches an eyebrow. His hand slips down slowly to rest on his hip, but not before his suit jacket has ridden up just enough to expose the sleek outline of his gun, hanging low in the holster on his belt.

“Is this how it’s going to be, Tom?” He asks, shifting his eyes back to you. “Eh? I bed your bird and suddenly business is off the table?”

You can feel the mood sour, and as much as you’d like to reach out and give Gordy a piece of your mind, you are painfully aware of the circumstances: you are standing in the lion’s den. Despite the meeting of Tom’s creation, you know that there’s no chance in hell that Gordy has walked into the evening alone. To initiate any sort of heated discussion whilst surrounded by London’s most notorious gangsters would be a disastrous move.

“Tom,” you murmur, recognising all too well the signs of anger that curl out across Tom’s face: his clenched jaw, the deep frown marks on his forehead, the tight line of his lips. “Let’s go.”

For a moment you think he’s going to follow you. Tom lets you shrug off his arm and take his hand, and his posture loosens as if he’s about to turn and walk across the room with you. But then, of course, Gordy just has to get in the last word.

“Oh, well, if you’re going, you won’t mind giving me a goodbye kiss, eh, Y/N?” He peers at you with mischievous eyes, his voice lilting lightly. “Just like old times?”

Tom’s moving before you can even attempt to stop him, and you hear a loud crack as his fist sweeps up and collides with Gordy’s nose. The man doubles over, groaning profusely, and your eyes widen as you take in the stream of blood that immediately begins to pour from his face.

“Tom!” You exclaim, your eyes wide and your hands shaking. Your boyfriend grabs at your fingers, squeezing your digits in his.

“He’s not allowed to disrespect you like that,” he mutters darkly.

“I don’t need you to defend me, I can do it myself,” you hiss back. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you feel the hot lump of anger melt away as Tom looks at you through those brown, golden eyes, his mouth positioned into a guilty smile.

Two men emerge from the crowd and flank Gordy’s side. You feel a deep swell of fear pool in the pit of your stomach, and instinctively your fingers move down towards your bag for the switch-blade you’d buried alongside your lipstick. But you find your actions stilling as Gordy clears his throat, rights himself and holds up a bloody hand.

“It’s fine,” Gordy tells his guards. He tilts his head in your direction. “I deserved it. No disrespect to the lady.” His beady green eyes move to Tom. “We can finish this discussion some other time, Thomas. Good evening to you both.”

Before waiting to see if Gordy turns around and walks away, you tighten your grip on Tom’s hand and lead him out of the large conference room. It’s completely silent, and the groups of people seem to part like the sea as you escort your boyfriend from the scene, his lips brushing over the back of his bruised hand as he winces. You don’t say anything, not until you’re safely stowed away in the backseat of a large car, the doors locked, windows tinted, and driver separated by partition.

“Love, look, I’m sorry, but I-”

You cut Tom off by climbing from your seat and meeting his mouth with a deep, needy kiss. Your boyfriend releases a noise of surprise, and his hands shift up to grab at your waist as he pulls you onto his lap eagerly, pressing back against your lips with fervour. It’s messy, and you enjoy running your hands through strands of his unruly hair as he keeps you close, his fingers grasping at every area of your front and sides, mapping you out.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Tom murmurs, his curious eyes meeting yours. “Thought I was in trouble.” His hands cup your cheeks, and you give him a coy smile.

“You shouldn’t have punched him,” you tell him, biting your lip as his thumb brushes over the soft skin of your face. “I’m glad that you did, though. He was a dick.”

Tom hums. “And also the enemy, love.”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you sit back on Tom’s wide thighs as you sigh. “I can’t believe he runs one of the other mobs,” you mutter. “I can’t believe I’ve dated two mobsters, and I didn’t even know.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes, but he still manages a short chuckle. “I hate the thought of you being with him,” he admits. His eyes stir with something darker, and his fingers dig into your waist. “I hate the thought of you being with anyone other than me.”

You bite your lower lip as you twirl the short strands at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “It was a long time ago,” you tell him. “Our relationship wasn’t anything of consequence.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, but he’s still got that hungry glint in his eyes. You feel a shiver roll down your spine as his gaze sweeps across your face, his hands shifting up to rest on the curves of your breasts. Your dress is thin, and the neckline meant you had to go without a bra. A soft gasp falls past your lips as Tom’s thumbs brush over the lines of your nipples, which prick in response to his touch.

“Is our relationship of consequence?” Tom asks, his voice dancing. He’s staring at your chest now, his smirk widening as you instinctively push further into his hands, enjoying the feeling of his large, warm palms groping at your breasts.

“Of course.” You swallow and bring your fingers away from his neck. With careful movements, you reach up and pull the straps of your dress from your shoulders, meeting Tom’s gaze as you roll down the front of the garment, exposing your bare chest to him. “I love you.”

Tom seeks out your neck with his lips, and you release a small gasp as he sucks firmly on the base of your throat, his fingers moving over your bare chest. You can feel his mouth pulling the blood to the surface of your skin, but the pain makes you cry out in pleasure as your fingers wrap around his suit jacket and fist at the expensive material hugging his back. He takes his time as he works his way up your neck, sucking and biting, and then soothing the throbbing marks with gentle laps of his tongue and soft, open-mouthed kisses. By the time he reaches your ear, you’re squirming in his lap.

“You are mine.”

His tongue teases the lobe of your ear as his hands move all across your bare back, caressing your skin gently with his palms. The cold metal of his silver rings bites to touch, but you shiver in enjoyment.

“Yours,” you agree. Tom shifts from your neck to look at you straight on, his eyes full of dark, heady lust.

“Mine,�� he repeats. His mouth is on yours, and you let him prise apart your lips with his tongue. His hands fist at your hair and he pulls you closer roughly, and your teeth collide as he kisses you sloppily, groaning into your mouth. It’s messy - with noses bashing and his digits tugging at your strands and your lips moving everywhere, slick with spit - but you feel him gather you up in his arms as he holds you. He owns you.

You make-out until the car arrives home, at which point your lips are tender and puffy and your entire body throbs with persistent arousal. Tom’s eager with his affection, but you can feel the underlying pulse of fear coasting through his veins; you want so desperately to placate it: to let him know that he has nothing to worry about - that you are his now, and probably always will be. Tom’s not alone in his discomfort - you, too, feel jilted and unbalanced after running into a ghost from your past. You need Tom desperately, in more ways that one. You need him to look after you - to hold you, be firm with you, and show you your place within your relationship. You need him to be your dom, and you crave the release of submitting to him entirely - with your mind, body and heart.

“You can do anything you want to me tonight,” you tell him. You’re standing at the foot of the bed, Tom sitting up against the headboard. His suit jacket lays off to the side, tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone. You’ve made a mess of his hair, but he looks so fucking pretty with his chestnut curls all tousled and his lips bright pink and inflamed.

“That’s funny,” Tom comments, eyes glinting as he tilts his head to the side, “I thought I could already do that.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself biting your lower lip as your face fills up with heat.

“Do you want me to take off my dress?” Your fingers toy with the straps, which are all rolled up and uneven thanks to the hastiness in which you’d scrambled from the car.

“No.” Tom sits up, and he pats his thigh invitingly. “Take off your panties and come up here.”

You tease him a little bit, enjoying the way his gaze weighs down your figure. You’re slow to push your dress up to your waist, and you make a show of hooking your index fingers beneath the band to reveal lacy panties. You tug at the material until it falls to pool at your feet, and then you delicately step away from them and approach your boyfriend. You have a sudden thought that it’s as if you are the prey, walking straight into danger, but you welcome it: Tom’s looking at you, his expression hard but excited and his eyes swimming with darkness, and it makes your throat dry up.

“Such a gorgeous girl, aren’t you?”

The material of Tom’s slacks feels coarse against your centre as you straddle his left thigh. His hands press at your waist, pushing your cunt straight against his leg, and the contact makes you moan softly.

“You look so pretty with your neck all marked up.” Tom presses a light kiss to one of your hickeys, and you gasp as a line of pain ripples out across your skin. “You look like you’re mine.”

“I am.”

“I know.” Tom strokes his hand through your hair, eyes watching you carefully. “I’m just going to remind you.”

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” You ask, your voice wavering.

He hums, the noise suspended with confidence. “You’ll see.” His hands dig into your waist a little firmer, and he starts to guide your movements. “Work yourself against my thigh, darling. Make a nice wet spot for me.”

His words make you moan, and you’re quick to comply. You recognise the dark glint in his eyes and the layers to his voice - he’s slipping away into his harder, more dominative side, just as you find yourself eager to oblige him. You grind yourself down over his thigh, and his trousers are rough against your flushed centre. The friction burns beautifully. A few moans slip past your lips, and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press over you, digging into your waist, guiding you. Tom is very much in control, and as the seconds slip past, you give into it.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmurs, rich voice drifting into your ears. You bite your lip, your hole clenching around nothing as you swivel your hips and feel the pressure to your hot bud.

“Feels really good,” you admit, voice a whimper. “Love it when you let me touch you.”

Tom takes your chin between two fingers, looking at you with a hard stare. He pulls your face to him, his tongue licking a wide stripe over your lips. As you try to push forward for a kiss, he just moves away, a teasing smirk on his lips. “No,” he says softly, “You’ll take what I give you, and you won’t be greedy about it. I don’t want to have to punish you, babygirl.”

You nod quickly, the movement hurried and messy. It’s getting hard to think of anything other than the fact you’ve made his trousers slick with your arousal. The burn between your legs is gradually swelling to a crescendo.

“Sorry,” you whisper. Your fingers find purchase on his shoulder, and you find your forehead dropping down to rest there too as your breathing hitches.

“Are you close, darling?” He’s very soft and gentle, and it makes you whimper out a small noise of agreement. Tom chuckles, pulling at your hair as he brings your face back up, his hands bearing down on your hips to halt your movements. “Lie down for me, please.”

You scramble from his lap, your centre pulsing as it leaves his thigh. Your eyes catch on the way you’ve left a large, wet mark on his trousers, and you watch with wide eyes as Tom stands from the bed. He walks around to the foot of the mattress, his figure commanding your complete attention.

“I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do to you,” he says, speaking quietly. His nimble fingers work down the buttons of his shirt, popping them quickly. Once his shirt is discarded, Tom works on his slacks. As the metallic sounds of his belt clicking fill the air, he smirks at you. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. You squeal as Tom grabs at your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor, hauling you closer until your thighs are over his shoulders and his face is near your heat. Your dress scrunches up at your waist, and you whimper as his hands press your legs apart. “I’ll always be good for you.”

“Is that right?” Tom asks, index finger running lightly over the inside of one of your thighs. He looks up at you, eyes hooded and blown wide with lust.

“Yes.”

“Prove it to me,” he instructs. “If you think you’re about to cum, you need to tell me.” Tom’s gaze darkens. “If you disobey me, you won’t enjoy what happens.” With tender lips, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, looking at you with a gentle smile. When he speaks again, his voice is lighter, “Is this okay, darling?”

You nod.

“Words.”

As two of Tom’s fingers spread your puffy outer lips, you stammer out a broken, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl.”

He dives in quickly, and the press of his warm tongue against your pulsing pussy makes you cry out. You’re already feeling hot and bothered from the time you spent rutting against the coarse material of his trousers, and the pressure soothes you. He’s too far away to touch, so you curl your hands into fists and pull at the silky bed linen, eyelids fluttering shut as his tongue caresses you, over and over.

Tom makes out sloppily with your cunt, two of his slender fingers pulling up to push into your heat. He fills you easily, taking the edge off your desire as his tongue flicks over your clit, unrelenting, hard. He’s eager for it, holding nothing back as he coaxes you quickly towards a high, moaning and grunting into your centre. The vibrations drive you mad, and your mind spins off as he holds you in place.

“S-Shit,” you stammer, back arching. As much as you don’t want to say it, Tom’s already pushing you towards climax. As he curls his slender digits up against you, his tips brush against your g-spot, and it has you seeing stars. “I’m gonna cum, Tom.”

All movements stop. Tom’s mouth pulls back from your cunt, and his fingers still inside you. Your walls clench around him, but he relaxes them, halting all stimulation of your sensitive pussy as you whimper.

“Good,” he coos. Your eyes seek him out, and you moan as you see his chin slick with your juices. “You taste divine, sweetheart.” His free hand strokes over your inner thigh, calming you with gentle circles and caresses. “We’ll do this a few more times, I think. I want you dripping onto the sheets. I want you to forget about everything apart from me, and how desperate you are for me.” His teeth nip at your thigh, and you squirm.

True to his word, Tom works you up, over and over again. Each time he brings you to the edge of a high, he pulls back at the last moment, leaving you teetering on the edge for a painful second before your climax goes ebbing away from your reach. The time it takes to build up to each edge narrows considerably with each completion, and you find yourself growing desperate for more. Your skin is hot and prickles, your forehead breaking into a sweat. The muscles in your legs ache from the exertion of almost spasming into climax, time and time again, and your throat hurts from your eager, desperate moans. He’s a demon, his deep brown eyes watching you closely, sharp ears picking up each noise and sound, and he seems intent on drawing this out for as long as possible.

“I think that’s enough,” Tom finally says. Your sigh of relief is so loud and pronounced that it makes him chuckle. “What, you didn’t like that?” His hand comes down over your inner thigh, slapping softly. As the pain ripples across your skin, you whimper. “Don’t lie to me, angel. I know you love it when I’ve got my head between your legs.” His large hands slip under your thighs, and he pushes you up the bed, slipping up over you. With his body suspended above you and a hand either side of your head, Tom raises his eyebrows. “Open,” he instructs.

What he does next makes your eyes roll back. You open your mouth immediately, and he chuckles darkly. One hand holds your jaw, and you watch as Tom purses his lips, eyes you intently, and then spits directly into your mouth. The taste of your cunt spreads out across your tongue, and your hole clenches around nothing as you moan loudly.

“Swallow,” he says. You close your mouth and do just that, and then you stick out your tongue for him to see. “Good,” he coos. Tom kisses you suddenly, the action hard as he sucks on your tongue. When he pulls back, he kisses your nose. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? My pretty girl.”

His lips skate all across your face, dusting you in warm kisses of reward.

“I love you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The gratitude you feel towards him for knowing exactly what you need is boundless, consuming.

“And I love you.” You share a tender moment of understanding as Tom brushes his hand over your face, and in the look you exchange, you know that he feels as you do: appreciation towards your partner, for reading you and obliging you. He hums softly, slipping away from you after a final kiss to pull off his boxers. “Take off your dress for me, love. Give me a show.”

You’re shaky on your feet, but you manage to stand in front of the bed. Tom sits up against the headboard, working his hand over his erect length as he watches you. You tease him, just like you know he enjoys, taking your time as you roll the sleeves down and unzip the back. The material goes tumbling to the floor, pooling at your feet, and then you’re entirely naked - wearing only his hickeys, and his spit between your legs.

“Beautiful,” he says, eyes glinting. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?” When you shrug bashfully, he nods. “My angel. C’mere.” You move to him, but he stops you before you can reach for his cock. “I want you to lie down here and show me how you get off.”

“But I want--”

He shuts you up with a hard stare. “Do you really want to finish that sentence?” When you’re quiet, he hums. You can’t stop staring at the way his hands slide over his length. Your mouth waters at the thought of letting your tongue wander over his leaking tip, collecting the beads of salty precum. “Do this for me, and then I’ll let you have what you want.”

You part your legs, your thighs aching. As you dip your hand between your legs, you whimper to feel your slick mixed with Tom’s spit. Your skin is soaked, and as you nimbly press two fingers into your hole, you find it looser, already stretched from Tom’s exploration earlier. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your hand move as you slowly fuck yourself with your fingers, getting pleasure from the knuckle of your thumb as it brushes up against your clit.

As you begin to whimper, Tom swoops in with his final lesson of the evening. He reaches down, wrapping his hand around yours, guiding your movements. He sets the pace and the angle, speeding up your thrusts. The sound of your wetness sloshing around makes you cry out loudly as he edges you perfectly, like he knows your body better than you.

“You see this,” he mutters, voice husky. “I give you pleasure. It doesn’t matter if it’s my tongue in your cunt, or my fingers, or my cock. This cunt?” He curls your fingers, and they brush up against your g-spot, making you cry out. “This cunt is mine. You are mine.”

You almost lose it right there, the deep husky tones of his dominant voice sending you spinning, but then Tom pulls away. As your walls flutter weakly around nothing, he pats at your hip.

“Hands and knees, darling.”

Your arms shake as you roll over, adopting the position. Again, Tom stands at the foot of the bed, pulling you back until you’re spread open for him. You feel his cock, dragging through your slick folds, teasing your tender clit until your hips jerk forwards. Your bud aches almost painfully, your body pulled tight with an overwhelming need to climax.

“Please,” you beg desperately, dropping your head between your arms. “Please, please.”

Tom’s hand smooths over the curve of your ass, silver ring biting coolly against you, “Does my darling want to feel my cock?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hmm.” Easily, he slips the tip of his cock past your entrance. “I suppose you deserve it,” he teases. “Been such a good little slut for me, haven’t you?”

When Tom finally fucks into you, the moan you release is almost pornographic. He’s been teasing you, over and over, drawing you close to orgasm only to jerk it away from you each time, but now that he’s got his length buried up to the hilt inside you, you know it’s been worth it. Nothing compares to the relief you feel as you realise you’ll be allowed to finish soon, your walls squeezing his cock.

The pace is punishing, and everything blurs together. His hands on your hips, holding you in place, pulling you back rhythmically to meet with his thrusts. As his slick cock pounds into you over and over, his flushed tip nudges against your g-spot. The stimulation makes your eyes tear up, and a few hot tears skate across your cheeks as you whimper and cling to the sheets.

“Fuck, princess, you’re fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?” A hand falls over your bum, and you moan. “So tight and warm. Feels so snug around me, lovie. So perfect.” Tom’s voice comes out firm, but it wavers, and you can imagine the grimace of pleasure on his face. “Always take me so well.” His hand moves to the top of your back, and he pushes you into the bed. Your face buries into the sheets as the angle adjusts, and you gasp loudly as the adjustment means he can rail you harder.

“S-Shit,” you moan. “Love your cock, Tommy. Pl-Please.”

“What do you need?”

You whimper, the power of his thrusts fucking you further into the mattress. “W’nna cum.”

“You can play with your clit then.”

Tears fly down your cheeks, and it feels overwhelming as you nudge a hand between your legs to fondle your bud. Tom’s hands hold your hips, keeping you nice and open for him, and you’re glad for the heavy pressure on your skin. It keeps you anchored down.

“Are you close?” He asks, grunting heavily as he feels your walls squeeze him.

“Yes.”

“I think you deserve to cum, don’t you?” He pauses briefly, cursing lowly, pace faltering. “Let go, darling. Let me feel you squeezing me. I want to feel what I do to you.”

The action of his deep, fast thrusts mixes with your fingers on your clit, and you cum with a loud, quivering scream. Tom holds you down, fucking into you as you spasm and writhe in the sheets, and after a few, mind-numbing moments of pleasure, you feel him follow you with a grunt. His hot speed paints your walls, his noises of heady enjoyment mixing with yours, and it just prolongs your climax.

When you calm down, Tom carefully pulls out from you. You whimper at the loss, feeling a little out of it as he turns you over, pushes you up into the centre of the bed and pulls you on top of him. Your head settles in the crook of his neck, his hands palming over your back as he kisses the top of your head, over and over again.

“So good for me,” he mumbles. Your legs tangle together. You can feel his cum spilling from your hole, dripping down onto him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “My best girl. I love you so much.”

You hum quietly, rubbing your hand over the top of his arm as you whimper. “Love you too,” you manage, voice hoarse.

Tom’s hands cup your face, and he gently coaxes you up until he can meet with your eyes. His fingers brush away the teary residue from your cheeks, and he kisses you softly.

“Mine,” he mumbles against you, smiling into your lips as you hum in agreement. One of your hands folds into his curls, and you feel your heart stirring contentedly in your chest.

“Yours.”

---------

lol. hope you enjoyyyyed :)

I’m intending to do some mob!Tom blurbs next week for mob!Monday, so if you have any concepts you’d like to see, please send them to my ask box!

ask box is open for your thoughts!! I’m dying to know what you think of this... 👀

masterlist linked in bio!

#tom holland punch my lights out challenge ❤️#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tomfic #mm #smut #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #yeeeeeep #queue

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sitp-recs · 4 years ago

Note

Do you know of any fics under 10k that aren’t too angsty? ❤️

Hi anon, I most certainly do! Thanks so much for sending this ask, I was super excited when I saw it because I’m always happy to celebrate short fics - they could use more appreciation! I’ve wanted to do a proper shorts reclist for a while so I indulged myself and went big, hope you don’t mind! Putting this together was quite hard - going through my bookmarks I realized that I usually go for angsty shorts 💀 so I tried my best not to include anything too extreme, I hope these are okay!

This became a lil monster with 40 recs (and I have lots more hehe) so I decided to sort them by genre - the last category includes light angst (more on the contemplative side) because I can’t help myself. Shout-out to @tackytigerfic for giving me a 2nd opinion and helping me polish this - and for being a darling in general. Happy readings!

ROMANCE/COMFORT

1. Sun Stroke by @peachpety (2020, E, 3k)

Warm, sexy and wholesome, this fic makes my heart soar with the magical beach setting, amazing friendship dynamics and the sweet get together with a delicious side of smut!

2. oxygen [Fic & Art] by @maesterchill (2020, T, 4k)

Tentative acquaintances become something more over a shared smoke at the balcony. Sexy, mature, deliciously atmospheric and full of promise - plus Healer Draco is always a treat!

3. Catch the Snitch (No, Catch My Heart) by @prolix- (2020, E, 4.5k)

Gorgeous bath fic where Harry and Draco just... take care of each other. The raw emotion packed here! Lush and vivid build up with stunning body worship, hot and intimate and breathtaking.

4. Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn (2017, T, 5k)

This quiet comfort fic gives our boys some well deserved healing through physical touching and late night companionship. Love the 8th year atmosphere, soothing and familiar.

5. Blue Sky Is Living Here Today by ignatiustrout (2018, G, 5k)

The loveliest kid fic you’ll see today - real characters, gentle longing, soft understanding. It’s a joy to watch dad Draco through Harry’s smitten eyes, as he realizes there’s no rush to live that love.

6. Gravity Centered by @carpemermaidtales (2019, E, 6.7k)

Possibly my favorite Quidditch fic, this has an original premise and amazing Drarry dynamics, casual and organic, sassy and familiar, with a perfect lil twist at the end!

7. Up The by @shiftylinguini (2018, E, 7.5k)

One of the funniest PWPs I’ve ever read, clever and charming with easy banter and delicious smut. A sweet and sexy glimpse into the Drarry married life! Cw Mpreg

8. And a Malfoy in a Pear Tree by lauren3210 (2015, E, 8k)

Sweet sweet coffee shop Christmas romance! Love the light and fun atmosphere, the easy banter and cute wooing while supportive Ron cheers in the background, what a treat!

9. Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (2015, M, 8.4k)

Khalulu writes the softest Drarry, it never fails to put a smile on my face. This has a gentle and sweet get together, with lovely slow burn, a gorgeous San Francisco setting and matchmaker Kreacher 💗

10. Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 8.8k)

This delicate comfort fic has a special way to tug at my heartstrings - a gorgeous tale about found family and the unexpected wonders of life. Gentle, magical and breathtaking in its simplicity.

HUMOUR

11. in charge by @bonesliketambourines (2020, E, 2.4k)

The ultimate brat Draco, bossy and confident and absolutely gorgeous with his long hair and impossible snark. Charming and funny, this packs so much character and domestic bliss under 3k! Perfect spoiled Draco is perfect.

12. The Morning After by birdsofshore, capitu (2015, M, 5.3k)

This is hysterical and so delightfully creative - Draco exploring Harry’s kitchen and charming a prudish appliance is the kind of cute, silly endeavor I need with my morning coffee!

13. The Spoiling of Sex From Enthusiastic Ignorance by @cibeewastaken (2020, E, 6k)

I’m impossibly enamored with Cibee’s drama queen Draco and his passionate missions! This time he’s decided to get some good diq, and the dialogue and mutual pining will make you smile from beginning to end.

14. All Tied Up by MyNameIsThunder (2020, M, 6k)

This is a secret relationship delight! Sneaking around gets so much better when dramatic Blaise is losing his shit to protect the Council of Serpents’ integrity! A+ faux-drama, super fun and sweet.

15. Luckiest Fucking Size Queen Alive by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (2016, E, 6.2k)

My favorite brand of thirsty and chaotic Draco; being inside his mind is such a crazy ride and you won’t stop laughing for a second. Amazing dialogue and insanely scorching smut as per loveglows’ usual 🤤

16. Sex Ed for Aurors by curiouslyfic (2010, M, 8.7k)

This is a Harry triumph, so fun and charming! Here he’s the one chaotic and thirsty, for a change - I’m obsessed with his internal ranting under the lust potion. Brilliant narrative and top notch characterization, a classic!

17. Ferocious Determination, Insufficient Deliberation, and a Slightly Wrong Destination by Faith Wood (2012, E, 9.5k)

Drunk Draco has never been so absurd and I LOVE it! This goes from hilarious to vulnerable and sweet in a heartbeat; pining Draco is a precious thing and Harry’s gentle persistence made my heart swell.

18. Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries (2018, E, 9.7k)

This fic could definitely use more appreciation - I had a blast with Draco’s hilarious voice and their cute married banter! The plot is quite original and I love the 8th year domestic vibes.

19. The Full Monty by @magpiefngrl (2017, E, 9.8k)

The calendar fic we deserve 👏🏻 this is ultimate thirsty Draco being completely obliterated by Harry’s casual attractiveness but mostly by his kind heart and big smile. One of my favorite comfort reads, hilarious, sweet and so damn sexy, the full monty combo is here!

20. Aural Gratification by birdsofshore (2014, E, 10k)

This fic is a classic, charming and hysterical with an adorable Harry thirsting over Draco’s smooth voice. Such an original concept and engaging read, not to mention the rewarding shade of smut!

SMUT

21. Tense by Faith Wood (2013, E, 3k)

Me, reading smut for the dialogue? It’s more likely than you think 😂 this fic is hilarious and hot all at once, with perfect banter and clever dialogue, really a smut triumph!

22. Under Your Skin by @p1013 (2020, Explicit, 4k)

Great premise and the sexiest build up, ugh so much teasing and anticipation as pierced Draco takes Auror Harry’s control away 🔥kudos at the A+ twist and promising ending!

23. The Slytherin Urn by @icmezzo (2015, E, 4.6k)

This fic’s geniality slaps me in the face, what a fascinating concept! Redemption kink and magical theory walk together as Harry loses his mind over competent Draco doing some badass curse-breaking ritual.

24. Once Bitten by Frayach (2012, E, 5.6k)

Still one of the hottest things I’ve ever read, lush and raw and absolutely breathtaking. Dark and tender at once, it explores biting kink with unapologetic precision and I love that!

25. Matched Set by astolat (2016, E, 5.7k)

One of my faves by the genius astolat, this is a perfect mix of hot size kink, A+ dirty talk and a brilliant and nuanced plot showing how Harry navigates his post-war reality. A must-read!

26. Teeth by @amelior8or (2020, E, 6k)

This fic is an emotional rollercoaster and goes from light-hearted and casual to vulnerable and tender in a second. Hot and intimate feat scorching wall sex, gut-punching lines and enthusiastic consent🔥

27. Born Slippy by @dracoladon (2020, E, 8.3k)

My favorite clubbing fic ever, clever and sensual, a master class in UST including the drunk haze confusion and panty kink as a treat! I can’t even talk about this fic without blushing 😳

28. The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (2010, E, 8.5k)

Competitive boys fighting for dominance both in bed and at the gossip column’s first page This is peak enemies to lovers: witty banter, hot smut screaming switching rights and feisty stubborn idiots finally getting over their asses.

29. The Things They Never Say by @bixgirl1 (2017, E, 9k)

Angry porn with (many) feels, this feels like a punch to the solar plexus. The explosive Drarry chemistry gives way to something quieter and gentler and full of longing, ugh but it aches so good. Absolutely exquisite!

30. Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (2020, E, 10k)

The title says it all; this is a lush and charming read, with chaotic but nuanced Draco pining over authoritative, edgy Harry 😳 steaming pent up tension that culminates in glorious semi-public smut, is your body ready?

CONTEMPLATIVE/SOFT ANGST

31. Sharing a Pack by sugar_screw (2016, E, 2.7k)

A fully fleshed-out love story in less than 3k, with complex characters and powerful feels. Raw, poignant and unbelievably romantic.

32. Still Life by orphan_account (2019, M, 3k)

A superb and gut-punching story where Harry realizes all the little things that make Draco so very different from him - and falls in love anyway. Powerful in its simplicity and concise elegance.

33. Harmony (Left-Handed Melody Remix) by mindabbles (2010, M, 5.8k)

Draco finds his way post-war and Harry meets him in the middle. Aching and bittersweet but also hopeful, with a delicious side of coconut cake, Harry in black robes and Romeo & Juliet as soundtrack.

34. Let Me Have You and I'll Let You Save Me by Frayach (2012, M, 6k)

Enemies to lovers deluxe version! Come and feast on this original narrative, amazingly clever, rich and detailed, telling us an unlikely but inevitable love story.

35. A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (2020, E, 6k)

Broken boys fucking through their issues and healing together during the post-war is so my jam! A+ LQT goodness, this fic is evocative and quietly devastating, but full of feels and hope.

36. Our Little Life by @tackytigerfic (2020, M, 7k)

I’ve screamed about this brilliant fic recently; inventive, poignant and utterly romantic, this fic shows all the ways in which Harry and Draco find each other across space and time.

37. the keys to your kingdom by thistle_verse (2016, E, 7.5k)

A beautiful love story packing an impressive amount of character, conflict and emotion. We are invited to witness as work partners Harry and Draco finally take a leap of faith and grow out of their casual arrangement.

38. Clear As Mud by scoradh (2005, M, 9.8k)

Subtle and heart-wrenching, the sharp and clever narrative creates fascinating dynamics between this brilliantly written Draco and poor oblivious Harry trying to make sense out of it. An all-time fave. Cw: infidelity (not Drarry).

39. fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (2015, E, 10k)

Fucks buddies gone wrong but make it soft so we get to watch as pining Draco patiently waits for Harry to get the memo. Sweet and intimate, with lots of late night talks and comfortable silence.

40. Tidings of Comfort series by @blamebrampton (2012, G, 10k)

Quietly cathartic and atmospheric, this fic is a poignant balm to the soul; such a beautiful tone, such lovely interactions! A must-read for those who enjoy church settings, honest talks and redeemed Draco. All-time fave.

#anon #asks #drarry reclist #short fics #fics under 10k

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wandsandwheezes · 4 years ago

Text

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH4

one // two // three

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, cheating

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // im so sorry to the vanilla beans for this one xxxx

Green was definitely your colour. At least that’s what George thought as you ran down the stairs, the dress you were wearing was elegant and sophisticated but still casual, George thought you looked absolutely ravishing in everything you wore. You smiled lovingly at him when you caught him staring. You hadn't spoke to Fred since the incident when he tried to kiss you, having well and truly avoided the topic for at least 3 days. you were not looking forward to having to feign your love for each other.

Despite the fact that Fred had already apologised, it didn't make things any easier. "You look beautiful." he stated, as you straightened his tie and flattened down his hair, "And you look a mess, Fred". His tired eyes looked at you pleadingly, as his hands came up to button his suit jacket. George and his heavy stride came barrelling down the stairs, when you spotted him, he looked like a work of art, his features were glowing and he was clean shaven, perfect hair hanging and framing his face, a request from you that he should grow it out a little more than usual. He didn't look stressed or worried like Fred did, and in this moment you realised the toll that days like this took on Fred and George did too.

The shop was perfectly pristine, the new massive display fully stocked and the centre of attention, Fred had briefed the employees this morning, making sure that they knew the drill. Crowds and the press were all gathered outside in anticipation, the volume growing so much that you began to hear it from within the confines of the shop.

When the doors swung open, it well and truly became show time. You hung delicately off of Fred's arm, as you stepped out of the opening doors, huge flashes of cameras, as well as cheers of excitement all bombarded your senses, however it was nothing compared to the thrill of the stadium.

Fred began to deliver the speech about the new line of products, taking a moment to thank the investors and patrons of the shop, George followed on by unveiling the collection of items from the new line, the gorgeous green packaging complimenting your dress perfectly. Your eyes were fixated on the man of your dreams as he talked with such passion and vigour. You had to remind yourself that there were hundreds if not, thousands of eyes on you and that you probably shouldn't have been staring at George the way you were but you just couldn't help it. Fred once again takes to the stage to begin the personal thank yous before the store opens.

"we want to thank the family for their continued support in our endeavours, also, Cheryl, our press manager and last but very not least my gorgeous girl, who has been with us every step of the way." he beckoned you onto the stage, as he continued, "Even though she has quidditch practice out of her ears for the big game next week, she always finds the time to brighten my day." His hand snuck around your waist before travelling down to firmly grab your ass.

Fred's mind was racing, he thought that here would be the perfect opportunity to finally have his lips on yours, crashing them down onto you without even a second thought. There was absolutely no way you could pull away in front of everyone, you were conflicted. The frantic flashing, as well as cheers and woos from the crowd were distraction enough. It was stopping you from hurling sick directly into his mouth at the thought of George being subjected to this bullshit.

George watched the events unfold before him, stopping himself from ripping you away protectively. He wanted to cut off Fred's hand more than ever, disgusted that he had the balls to grab your perfect ass so candidly in public - an ass that didn't even belong to him. George was absolutely livid, he could tell your discomfort a mile away. His heart shattering at how hopeless and weak you were to the situation.

The doors of the shop finally opened and shoppers began to swarm in, ready to grab the latest products and creating a comforting blanket of noise. Cherry was smiling happily at you, sending a wink and a thumbs up your way. Your eyes however were searching for your Lover, disappointed he was nowhere to be seen, you pull out your phone to see a text from less than a minute ago.

>> Toilets, Now. Don't make me wait x

This was not good, but your heart raced faster with every step you took towards the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar when you got there, slipping into the cosy room you noticed George there and waiting, you shut the door behind you, flicking the lock before you heard him cast a silencing charm on the room, you heard the sounds of the bustling shop slowly fade, leaving the only audible sound as your staggered breath.

George's strong hand was on your cheek as he kissed you passionately. This kiss felt right, a thousand sparks of electricity coursing through you the very second your lips touched and you felt as if the whole world was spinning. His lips were the perfect warmth against yours, the sticky saliva rolling off both of your tongues as he parted your lips with his, taking the opportunity to swipe his tongue over yours, letting you know who you belonged to. He was moaning into your mouth, an action that made your cunt throb with anticipation. He pulled away only enough to spit directly into your mouth before feverishly shoving you down to your knees. "Use that wet mouth of yours, now Princess."

Your needy hands were unbuckling his belt, metal clinking against itself as you pulled his hard on out from his trousers, you obliged immediately, lips wrapping around his cock as you sucked, taking him deep down your throat. The sounds you made as you gagged on his thick shaft were sending him to heaven, his hand was firmly gripping your jaw as he coaxed nearly his whole length down your throat. You pulled away for air, moaning as he slipped out of your mouth, your hand came up to stroke him quickly before taking him past your lips again. This time however, George took no solace as his hand gripped into your hair, making it the perfect leverage to hold your face in place as he rocked his hips, cock fucking every flicker of anger directly down your throat. Hearing you choke and splutter with every thrust was only egging him on more, it was one of his favourite sounds and he couldn't get enough.

"I hope he fuckling likes how my cock tastes." he growled as he locked eyes with you. "That's it take it all, my good little cockwhore." he was still fucking your mouth, chasing his own release, your hands gripped the back of his thighs as he pushed himself fully into your mouth, hot streams of his cum hitting the back of your throat, spilling out of your mouth as he pulled himself free. His thumb swiped from the corner of your mouth, "Swallow like a good little girl." he marvelled at you eagerly taking his thumb into your mouth. He smiled proudly when you opened your mouth, seeing every last drop gone.

You loved it when George used your mouth like a fuck toy, it didn't happen often, but when it did, he was often angry like now or stressed and desperate for a release. "Up. get up on the sink." he commanded, you immediately pulled yourself to your feet, sitting up on the sink, his hands coming up to spread your legs apart as he found himself on his knees before you. "Tell me who you belong to." you sighed as his finger hooked quickly into your underwear pulling it to the side, you felt his breath fanning over your exposed pussy. "You, George, only you."

"Good, let's see if Daddy can help his pretty girl then, hm?" His sinful lips had attached to your clit, sucking slowly as his tongue lapped over it, the pleasure of being touched pulled a long desperate moan from you, you thanked that he had at least silenced the room, because with every motion and movement of his skilled tongue, you were moaning and spluttering, desperate to have a release. "Georgie, your tongue is so good!" he hummed in appreciation, thumb running through your sticky sweetness before coming up to circle over your clit at an antagonising rate. "I wanna cum daddy, please, feels too good." he chuckled, lips pressing dainty kisses along your inner thighs and right over your tight hole, before blowing a gentle cool breeze over your whole wet and glistening cunt.

His hands found your thighs, hooking them into his arms to move and press your back against the wall. "I don't even care if we get caught or if I'm taking too long anymore, you're mine and I fuck you when I want." he pulled your hips down onto him, making you bounce against him a little, you knew it wouldn't take you long to be coming all over him, you were already a blubbering mess for him, pulling every moan from your lips as he kissed you feverishly. He knew he'd hit the right spot when you clenched all around him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He pulled out of you, leaving you sat on the counter as your legs still shook from the orgasm running through your muscles.

He used the mirror to make himself presentable once again, smirking as he left you blissed out on the counter, pressing a simple kiss to your lips. "Such a good girl, I love you, baby." He was out of the door before you knew it and you were left with your own juices running down your legs. You looked in the mirror, taken back by just how fucked out you looked, making yourself smile, George really did do a good job with his girl. You pulled yourself together, quickly, using a spell to fix up your hair and makeup, thankfully in time for Cherry to burst through the door. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

The small clip of her heels against the hardwood floor as you followed her to find Fred, was enough to pull you back down to earth, still high off the rush of ecstasy. It was no doubt she was wrangling you and Fred together for a picture opportunity, spotting George smirking as he clocked just how distracted you were. Smiling and posing for the cameras was second nature, Fred was watching just how happy you looked, his heart beating faster at the thought that you were smiling because of him.

"Simply another perfect kiss from a star couple!" Cherry beamed before parading off to talk to the reporters. Fred's brow furrowed, "Another?" he queried, you'd realised now that he hadn't yet seen the paper with yourself and George caught on the cover. "She's probably comparing us to someone else, Freddie." you shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, Probably." sadness falling to the pit of his stomach, the girl he was crazy for wouldn't even look at him, and he wanted nothing more than the electricity of his lips against hers once more, he needed it, no - he craved it.

>>>>> Chapter 5

taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn @pigwidgexn@starkidpotty @mrmoonyy @mackaywhore @softlyqoos @colorfulprofessornickelangel @fandomscombine @satellitespidey @txtdreamss @aaannabbanana @kaylahmarie

#Fake It Fic #george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #weasley twins #harry potter #ginger hair #harry potter fic #harry potter smut

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

stop caring

yooo, so this is actually taken out of one of the sort of I guess series-esque things I’ve written, but it kinda just got shit at the end so I've given up and just wanted to post this instead. So sorry if some of the backstory isn't that clear or anything

tomhollandxfamous!reader

Summary: after your break up you bump into tom at a charity event and when shit hits the fan personally for you, someone who understands you is really what you need (angsty!!! maybe a bit of fluff too?)

TW: panic/anxiety attacks + mentions of assault

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3 months. 3 months you’d managed to avoid the boy that had given you the most joy in the previous years. 3 months without your best friend; of even when you’re with company feeling like a part of you was just absent.

And you had been thriving. Well… that’s what everyone thought. That’s what you tried to portray, because no matter how ‘famous’ or ‘successful’ people perceived you to be - ultimately you were like anyone else. Making your insta pop off after the breakup. And so to the outside world, through the very very small lense of social media life was great. Parties, friends, work.

You were a woman in demand - in all senses of the word.

But of course, as is the 21st century world, it was a lie. Instagram showed only snapshots of what can be very long 24 hours in a day. Naturally, a select few obviously knew - your best friend, Y/f/n being one of them. Yet still you were missing that one support, that one person who would drag you back to reality whenever you got too much into your own head. It actually rather annoyed you, how dependent you had got on him, in every part of your life.

And you really hadn’t expected to see him here today. You’d had your assistant check the guest list, he wasn’t on it. While getting ready, you had avoided all the products that reminded you of him; that soft nude lipstick he loved you in so much; your favourite (exfavourite) earrings. Had you known it, you would have worn these. Just because you knew it would get on his nerves a little bit. Nevertheless here you were, perhaps a little underdressed for the charity dinner in a dress you’d already worn before (because apparently that was a sin in the world of Hollywood). You couldn’t pin point from when, but it was simple yet elegant if you did say so yourself. A dark blue satin dress, that sat off your shoulders in a Bardot style; hugged your waist to accentuate your curves; then flowed outwards down to the floor with a slit up your right leg. It was simple compared to the sequin studded, diamanté jewelled dresses the rest of the women seemed to sport but it made you feel comfortable.

Besides, that’s what you needed today. This was the first time after the breakup you’d attended a public event without your best friend-turned-assistant-turned-absolute-life-saver. Y/f/n had been the greatest with you all through your life but especially recently, she deserved the break to go back home and see her family. It was a pretty decent excuse too, her cousins wedding, so you were in absolutely no place to complain.

Evidently it just HAD to be this event then, while you were flying solo, that you’d be faced with…well with his face. His fucking gorgeous, perfect and oh so sweet face.

Just seeing him, just seeing Tom fucking Holland, had the most intense burst of adrenaline course through your veins as you desperately scanned the rest of the room. Looking for an out, an excuse, someone to latch onto for the rest of the night. A distraction even.

Never one to admit it openly, but really you knew your coping mechanism of the past months had been to sleep with who you wanted. Because the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else right? You knew it was stupid too. Not because of slut shaming or anything ( we aint got no outdated views here), but simply it wasn’t you. It wasn’t a good idea for you. It didn’t fit.

Tom hadn’t seen you yet, so if you latched onto someone you’d likely be in the clear. So obviously, when your frantic glances landed upon Joe Keery, you literally sighed in relief. Joe was great, stranger things was a bit of a guilty pleasure for you - especially when you were in your trailer and bored. Just due to your line of work, you’d met a couple times, he seemed like decent crack and to you knowledge was single.

Unsurprisingly then, you almost marched over to Joe, ignoring the slightly shaky feeling in your leg as your hearing seemed to focus completely on the sound of Tom’s bright laugh.

It was your choice too. You’d chosen to end things. It was on you. Well really, both parties were equally guilty. Tom was the one who had been too tired and highly strung and exhausted to put effort into the relationship. Stupidly though, you were too in love to realise for so long, in doing so draining yourself in the process. The constant flying cross country to see him, when he couldn’t ever return the favour because he was too busy. It was chipping away at you, even if you didn’t notice. It took an intervention by your manager Davey and Y/f/n for you to see things for what they were. To see that Tom didn’t care as much as he used to.

He tried to fight for it, of course Tom did, because he also truly and deeply loved you. Nonetheless though, it was too late. And that was it. You closed that book and returned it to the library. Something your mind occasionally drifts back to and you think ‘huh that was a good read’ - yet that is the only space it occupies in your mind.

OR that’s how it should be. Not you yesterday, comparing everything your date did to Tom and deciding everything was worse. Not you today, seeing him and nearly being floored by the way the suit was tailored to his body oh so exquisitely. Not you now, hearing his bubbly laughter and having to fight your muscles from taking you back into his arms.

In short, you were highly strung and pining over a boy you’d killed your chance of happiness with.

Not to blow your own horn, you knew Joe wouldn’t be against having your company for the evening. After all, you were a young, beautiful and upcoming actor. You were ,at the very least, self aware. And so for a good few hours you almost forgot about Toms presence, spending the time before the speeches sharing a ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine (or two) with him. He was funny. He made you laugh, even if he was pushing the limits occasionally and teetering just on the right side of socially acceptable. It was risky and in that moment, with the alcohol in your system, it made him seem more and more of an attractive shag.

By the time the speeches started you were both overly giggly and had to keep shushing each other as the presenter called for quiet. Inherently, you knew exactly the location of Thomas - who he was sat around; the main he’d had at dinner; the brand of beer he’d been ordering.But that was subconscious. You were here with Joe.

Under your voices, whilst getting some disapproving looks from the older, more mature, members of your table you and Joe sat through the first boring speech whispering jokes under your breath - making each other clamp their mouth shut to avoid bursting out laughing. Though tipsy, you were very aware of Joe inching closer and closer, while his hand was casually brushing yours or your shoulder or waist more often. You knew this was low, being so blatant in front of Tom. To be quite frank though, should you care? And did he care?

The answer in your head at least, was an almost certain no to both.

One speech merged into another spent giggling away until Joe did something he didn’t mean. Heck he didn’t even know. His jesting quickly had toppled completely over into absolutely not category. Your brain felt like it was swimming as the name you’d avoided after that incident , almost ten years ago. The flashbacks came thick and fast. You an innocent young actor wanting to make a way in the industry. And him. A powerful, ridiculously important slightly overweight 50 year old with bad breath. That room in the corner of his hotel that you were completely lost in.

You were going to be sick.

Somewhere, distantly, you heard Joe saying something… asking you? Asking you if your were good? It was drowned out by a roar in your ears, you jerkily nodded your head. You knew your breathing was jilted, shaky and shallow. You knew your heart was exploding. It actually felt like a heart attack, the way it seemed to be beating as though it were going to break out of your chest. This time you really really needed an out.

So without any words, leaving a bemused Joe, your chair screeched on the floor as you stood up, garnering the attention of the whole room. The heads literally swivelled to stare at you, judgement clearly there as you frantically half ran to the back of the room, pleading if your head fro the toilet to be nearby. You needed to be away from everyone and safe.

Thankfully your escaped the room and the beady eyes, locating the bathroom where you threw a cubicle open, shakily locking it before collapsing into the wall in floods of tears, harsh sobs racking your frame as you clutched your hands to your knees and rocked slightly back and fourth. You dress being a full length ballgown was spilling out into the the nearby cubicles and under the door, but presumably you were alone in the loo - not hearing any other signs of life beyond your own sobs.

This always happened when you had your anxiety attacks. It was like clockwork. Zone out, stop hearing, loose control of breathing, heart starts pounding, make a quick escape to a toilet, cry and then…

Well back before Tom, it had been to throw up. That was the only thing you’d ever found to ground you enough to get your body backorder your own conscious control. It was like a wave of relief after, like the drowning feeling in your lungs had just evaporated away. But the Tom happened. The first time he’d seen you panic he hadn’t a clue what to do either. SO he had just sat with you, not wanting you to be alone in that state and waited. That panic though, had lasted so long that you’d almost made yourself pass out from the hyperventilating. When that had happened, Tom had gone into emergency mode. He had been scared to touch you, in case that made you worse, but when he saw your body going limp he didn’t have a choice. He’d collected you into his arms, with your head against his chest. Being this close to calling an ambulance, the relief Tom felt when your breathing got more and more regular was unparalleled.

Together, when he had you lying in his bed (recovered, if mortified and exhausted) was when you realised that you hadn’t been sick. And that was because of him. You’d grounded yourself on his heartbeat and breathing, listening to it and making yours sync up. Thats what had saved you that evening.

Now however, Tom was gone. This was the first panic attack you’d had since he’d been gone. Of course while you were together you were rarely in the same place, even so you’d phone him. But not now.

This all led to you sat clutching your knees as your mascara dripped down your cheeks as you had to fight to get enough oxygen into your body. You didn’t want to get into that vicious cycle of making yourself ill again. It really hadn’t been healthy.

Who knows how long you were sat there sobbing before you heard the door open and in response you clamped a hand to your mouth trying to stay silent. This irrational fear overcame you as you sat stock still, fearing the footsteps on the marble floor of the fancy function venue. Even the toilets were pretty posh.

“Y/n?…. It’s-it’s Tom.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. That was all that was going through your brain as you bit you lip - presumably painfully, yet you didn’t really feel pain in your current state. “Look I saw you leave and I know your on your own tonight… I-I couldn’t leave you on your own if your… well you know.” Everything was going so so fast in your brain, that it actually scared you into stopping crying, so much so you felt your hand flop back down to your side. “…I was waiting outside because I didn’t want to errr you know… but you’ve been 20 minutes so I need to know your good…..okay?”

The boy was too fucking good. And stubborn… he was too stubborn and you knew he wasn’t going to give in. It was also fairly evident that he knew you in here - there was no pretending you didn’t exist.

“Y/n? Come on you gotta let me know.”

“I’m fine. You-you go.” Only when you spoke was it evident to yourself just how not-okay you really were. Tom just chuckled and spoke again.

“How long have you known me for? That’s just not going to happen is it.” You already knew this, but something about the way he said it made you realise a sad laugh, momentarily making you feel a bit more in control. He seemed to like that response, you heard him bend down and then saw the bottom of his tux as he sat down leaning against your cubicle door.

“Is …is this your first one… since? You both know what he was talking about. Since you broke up.

“Uhmm I-“ You swallowed down a fresh rise of nausea, somewhat determined to not throw up when you ex is barely a metre from you. “Yeh I suppose.” In didn’t seem a revelation to Tom, yet he still hummed lowly in response as the room drifted back to silence.

“You… you wanna try to breath with me?… You don’t have to open the door just…”

Croaking a please in response because this feeling was really blood awful and you wanted it to end, Tom started exaggerating his breathes, as you shakily and eventually managed to start to time it with his. Without thinking, when Tom’s palm snuck half under the door you immediately grabbed and squeezed it - the contact helping to synchronise your body with his.

It should be an alien feeling after your time apart. But no it felt oh so natural and so very right.

Once you’d collected yourself and realised how bloody stupid this whole situation was you withdrew your hand back, loosing the warmth as you shook your head in disapproval of yourself. So very fucking stupid. He was silent for a bit, letting you think things through whilst still sat outside your cubicle.

“You good now?” You hummed in agreement and you felt Tom’s head fall against the door, looking up to the ceiling. “Want me to go?”

“If you want to” That was met with silence, but a very telling lack of movement that spoke a thousand words.

“You should get out of here… you wanna avoid the trigger again and I mean I know you’re exhausted.” The boy had researched panic disorder and attacks when he found out you suffered with it - he probably knew more of the psychology of it than you, whilst never having any first hand experience of it. Annoyingly he was right, as per, after attacks you always always slept for hours - it was just a draining process. “I’ll get you a car if you want?…. I’d like to make sure you get back okay if you don’t mind.” With only your cold and empty residual feeling left, his words still managed to ignite a spark of warmth in your chest.

“I’m not going to ruin your evening Tom.” You tried to refuse even if it was very very forced and very very hopeful he wouldn’t give in.

“I was having a crappy evening. Sitting in the ladies toilet talking to my ex through a toilet door has actually been the highlight.”He chuckled playfully in a self pitying way, somehow again making you giggle. And so he had you standing on slightly unsteady feet, your black heels held in one hand because no wasn’t the time to put yourself through teetering around on pin needles. The shuffling outside the door meant Tom stood up too - before you unlocked the door and opened it.

Prior to seeing Tom your eyes locked on the sight of your reflection, in the mirrors above the sinks opposite you. Perhaps the only way to describe it… it was a sight. The shock being in the juxtaposition between the elegant dress, which even having been crumpled on a bathroom floor had somehow managed to survive and still look near the off-the-hanger; but your face? Oh that was a shit show. You’d cried your makeup off almost completely, leaving your face blotchy and shining as well as the ever so telling smudged mascara under your bottom lash line.

You had to laugh or you’d just start to cry.

“Don’t worry I’ve seen you much worse.” You saw in the reflection as Tom leaned in and whispered in your ear, making your eyes roll and head shake as you looked from him back to you.

“I look like a paps dream.” Without instruction, Tom bolted into a nearby cubicle, wrapping layers of toilet roll round his hand before offering it to you as a makeshift wipe.

“This is the glamour of Hollywood don’t you know? Wiping your face with bog roll”Thankfully taking it, you offered Tom a thankful smile as he stepped back, giving you space as he leant against another cubicle pillar. Once you finished up blotting your face, Tom had already shrugged off his jacket walking toward you as he offered it out. Tilting your head to the side in a questioning manner Tom just shrugged, saying it’d help avoid the paparazzi just in case. In reality you weren’t so sure, but anyhow you still appreciated the gesture and draped it round your shoulders with a muttering of thanks.

At this point his phone pinged, the car was outside, so without any words exchanged he led you to the door, checked the hallway was clearly before guided you back to the exit. There didn’t appear to be anybody lurking around, which you were oh so thankful for as you almost threw yourself in to the safety of the blacked out car. Tom followed and you both, almost comically as if scripted, released a sigh in unison as you melted into the seats. That had you chuckling dryly as you sat in silence.

“You know we can’t move till you say where you’re staying?” Teasing you, Tom shot you that ever mischievous grin that made the blood rush through your skin. After you’d told the driver, the car pulled swiftly out the laibi.

“Did he…did he say something?” Tom’s demeanour had steeled up and you looked questioningly up at him. “Joe… you looked…close.”

“Oh”. You were taken aback. You should have seen this coming to be fair, him asking for the trigger this evening - and yet you were more shocked at his jealousy. How he looked pained to mention Joe by name. “Um no… well sort of…it was a joke. He didn’t mean it but it er…it took me back.” Tom knew your history, he knew what happened all those years ago and he nodded slowly , keeping his eyeline straight ahead.

“He’s a dick.”

“No he’s not…. He- he was sweet enough . It was all me.”

“What?”

“I pushed myself on him. I-I saw you… I was spooked.” Tom left it to drift back to silence. He had a lot of thinking to do too.

He’d obviously kept up to date with you. Call it a professional interest. That was the problem being in love with someone when you weren’t allowed to be. But it hurt like hell, especially when he heard what you were doing. Because he knew this wasn’t you. He knew you sleeping around wasn’t going to help you recover - in fact he thought (and quite correctly) it was the opposite. That long term it’d only cause you more and more pain.

“You know, you don’t have to do this?… I-I know it isn’t you. I’m not insulting or anything I’m… I’m just worried.” You knew he was being truthful . And infuriatingly he was right. Which only made it even more annoying.

“Why do you care though?” Looking out the window that was all you could think to say. That was your subconscious talking as you didn’t really want the answer. Or you desperately did but you knew it’d be hard to get over.

“Y/n” He sighed, making you look across at him “I’ve not stopped caring… I’ll never stop caring.”

Wasn’t that just a knife to the heart. You held your breath momentarily, not knowing what to think (nervermind say) in response to that. Everything in that car seemed to freeze, Tom’s eyes piercing the deepest and darkest parts of your mind as he stared at you. You both really weren’t over it. You were both hurting. You missed each other.

And you were about to dive in all over again.

But then the indicator ticked on. The car pulled to a stop. The ignition switched off by the driver. You were at your hotel. The journeys end - quite literally.

Tom felt it too. He knew if ever there was a chance, however rogue and unlikely, of you two working things out it was within this journey. And he’d failed.

“I-uh…I-this is me” Stammering through, distracted by the way Tom’s eyes shone with disappointment.

‘Yeh - yeh it is I guess.”

“Well er… thanks for, well you know… for saving me. You er-you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to”

“Yeh well er thanks…. And er-Oh! Your jacket” You realised, already tugging the tailored suit jacket from your shoulders.

“No no it’s really okay. I have loads anyway.” See?In Hollywood you really weren’t allowed to wear the same thing twice.

“Oh-okay. Well er….I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Can I walk you to your room, just to-check no one bothers you?” Tom was trying. Desperately trying. He could feel you slipping through his fingers again, this time he wanted to put up more of a fight. You shook your head thought, a sad smile gracing your lips.

“I’d say yes but I think I know where that’d end up…. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Defeatedly nodding, Tom just smiled in a tight-lipped fashion, equally as sadly at you.

“I’ll errr I’ll see you around.” While gathering yourself and preparing to exit the car, your hand on the door handle. Tom responded with a ‘yeh’ but before you left you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before whispering under your breath..

“Thankyou Tom.”

part 2 ish of sorts --> link

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x famous!reader

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years ago

Text

nsfw alphabet - berlin

A/N: (request): The title says it all so a smut warning is in place.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex?)

Believe it or not Berlin, or should you say Andrés, is quite affectionate after sex. He’ll press his body closely against yours and place intimate soft kisses across your collarbone. He’ll ask if you enjoyed yourself, if you need anything. However most of all he likes to listen to you whispering words of affirmation. Knowing how much he means to you makes Berlin feel better about himself.

B = Body Part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Berlin’s favourite body part of yours is most definitely your ass. He loves how it looks in jeans, skirts, that red jumpsuit, but most of all he likes it bare. He’ll grab, caress, clasp and knead the flesh when you’re having sex - smack it when he can, even in public.

When it comes to himself however he doesn't have a favourite body part per-say - anything he can use to pleasure you really.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

He loves to come inside of you, of course. His cock pumping deep until he explodes and the white extract drips slowly down your thigh mixing with your own wetness. Although what he enjoys most of all is erupting in your mouth. Sometimes when he feels his own climax nearing he’ll pull out of your dripping pussy, climb up to straddle your face and plunge his wet hard-on into your mouth. It doesn't take long for the first shot of his cum to blast against the back of your throat - the gooey soo coating your tongue, filling your mouth completely and eventually being forced out between your lips.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Berlin secretly enjoys watching other people hit on you. There is something about the way you react, casually flirting back just to see if he'd get jealous, that gets his motor running. Of course he uses that drive to punish you for such flirtations the second he gets you alone.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

To say he's experienced would be an understatement, however, his sexual maturity is not what makes him so skilled at pleasuring you. Berlin took his time exploring your likes and dislikes in bed very early into your relationship. He can read your body like a map, knows where you’re most delicate and exactly what buttons to press to get you going.

F = Favourite Position (this goes without saying)

As much as he revels in power play and taking charge in bed, there is something about the cowgirl position that Berlin cannot say no to. He loves the feeling of you kneeling on top and pushing off his chest as you slide up and down. His hands exploring your body freely, groping your ass, fingers pulling on your nipples. Not to mention how incredibly hot you look.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Definitely more on the serious side. He’ll tease you to assert power and make the infrequent dirty joke however overall Berlin is more somber when you’re in bed and focused on making you feel good rather than making you laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He doesn’t really care about what he looks like down there. Occasionally he will clean himself up but it’s very rare. Not that you complain; in your opinion it makes him look more manly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Berlin is not the romantic type. He enjoys being close to you and will shower you with affection but after sex rather than during.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

He is not ashamed to admit he jacks off frequently; it is human nature after all. What he prefers though is to masturbate with you - usually as a form of foreplay. He’ll order you to pleasure yourself and watch you intensively and pumping his hard cock while you rub your clit.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The dark haired thief very much has a BDSM kink. He doesn't get to act on it often but when he does, well it is safe to say you have trouble walking the next day.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere and everywhere - you don't even have to be alone as long as you can be discreet. The mere thought of your naked body rubbing against his is enough to get him going, and once he’s turned on he simply must have you. It doesn't matter where you are; or who's around.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A better question would be what doesn't get him going. Berlin gets turned on just by looking at you. There have been times even where he’d be looking at an object such as a table and his mind would wonder - how he’d love to bend you over that and have his way.

N = NO (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Even though he doesn't mind other people flirting with you, a big no no is sharing you with anyone. You are his and his alone therefore threesomes or group sex is definitely off the table.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc,)

Receiving - and damn are you good at that. He loves looking down at you as your sweet lips are wrapped around his erect member. The sensation he gets as your tongue slides over his cock while you suck on the head.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to pound you asserting dominance and power. Fingertips digging into your waist, his mouth kissing yours, he enjoys fucking you fast barely giving you a chance to breathe. Although when he wants to he can go slow, mainly to tease you are quite simply admire your beauty.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

It would be safe to say that he prefers quickies to conventional sex. He revels in the fact he can have you whenever he wants to; fuck you shamelessly leaving you breathless, legs quaking. Of course if the two of you have more time to spare he’ll pleasure you slowly, properly. Taking you bit by bit.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

As long as what he wants to try is okay with you, anything is fair game. He would never do anything to hurt you purposefully or make you uncomfortable therefore even though he is the dominant in your relationship, you need to approve whatever it is he’d like to do to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Usually one or two, maybe even three - depending how long and taxing each round is.

T = Toy (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He is a proud owner of a few toys from various vibrators, handcuffs, spanking paddles, and even nipple clamps. He doesn't use them often, but when he does he makes you feel things you have never felt before. His favourite little toy to use on you is a remote controlled vibrator - pretty self explanatory.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Berlin is quite the tease although no bigger than you. In your relationship, you are the one that acts like a brat, petering and tormenting him. You know exactly which buttons to push to turn him on to the point of no return.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’ll mainly talk dirty to you, whisper all of the things he’s going to do to you, call you ‘his slut’ because he knows how hot and bothered that gets you.

W = Wild Card (random headcanon for the character)

Despite his brooding and dominant exterior, Andrés is tender and compassionate. He always puts you first. Your comfort and safety are of utmost importance to him. He’ll hold your hand, embrace you when you least expect it, and listen to everything you have to say. He’s a great listener.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Perhaps the biggest you’ve been with. He’s quite thick, and stretches you out well hitting all of the right spots.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Remarkably high. It surprised you at first because you wouldn't have expected it from the older brooding thief but you’ve come to appreciate and definitely enjoy it.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’ll wait for you to fall asleep first; like a true gentleman. Once your eyes are closed and he can hear your soft elegant snores, he’ll snuggle even closer to you taking in your scent and drift to sleep with you safely in his arms.

#la casa de papel #money heist #la casa de papel netflix #la casa de papel berlin #netflix money heist #money heist fanfic #money heist berlin #andrés de fonollosa #andrés de fonollosa x reader #andrés de fonollosa smut #berlin smut #andrés de fonollosa fanfic #andrés de fonollosa fanfiction #andrés de fonollosa fic #berlin fic #berlin fanfic #smut alphabet

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ajaxsbeloved · 4 years ago

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hii!! if u write for xingqiu, can i request some cuddling headcanons w his s/o?? thank u!!

cuddles 🍡

order for: xingqiu

flavor: fluff

order summary: cuddling with xingqiu makes your life a little more comforting especially when he cuddles you like this

warnings: none

[here it is, i hope you liked it! i’m so sorry if it’s too short, i tried to make it longer but my brain said “no thoughts. head empty” for now T-T]

xingqiu has some of the most relaxing cuddles to be honest, they’re a lot like him in the sense that they’re elegant and gentle

he’s very well timed if that makes sense, meaning that he’ll just naturally be ready for cuddles when they happen

he’d finish up eating and drinking something or just getting ready to start a new book when you come in and decide you want cuddles or when he feels sleepy and wants to initiate them himself

he likes to hold you in his lap (or sitting in between his legs) and read, sometimes he’ll let you sleep but other times he’ll read out loud and it’s really calming to listen to

he also likes it when you hold him, it gives him a sense of security and it makes him happy to know that someone is caring for him

xingqiu is very mature and while i don’t expect him to be bouncing off the walls i think that he’d probably be a little more open and childish with you because you’re the only person he trusts to see that side of him

during the day cuddles with him are very calming and relaxing, they’re soft and gentle while during the night they’re filled with giggles and cheesy/loving comments that put you to sleep (that is if you don’t have a heart attack hearing him say such things so casually)

his grip is firm but still gentle and caring, it’s almost loose if it weren’t for how he pulls you back to him when you try to get up

his favorite places to cuddle are by window sills and on the couch, while he does like to cuddle in bed that’s more of a “cuddle because of lights out for the night” type of thing and he prefers day time cuddles where he can just take naps with you

if you’re just laying on the couch he’ll sometimes lay down on you with his arms around your waist and head in your neck area and that way you can both take a nice little nap

sometimes, on the special occasion he’ll even sing or hum a little bit and when he does it’s like a spell that makes you sleepy but you try to stay awake so you can keep listening

if you’re struggling to keep your eyes open he’ll just look down at you with the most loving smile on his face and he’d give you a sweet kiss before telling you to rest and then going back to singing or humming

once you’ve fallen asleep in his arm he just looks at you for a little bit with a quiet smile before sighing (meaning he’s glad he’s relieved some stress with you) and resting his head on either your shoulder or head, he’ll fall asleep soon after

#[🍧 𝐥𝐞𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬]#[🥮 𝗼𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬]#character x reader #x reader #fanfiction #genshin xingqiu #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #headcanons #xingqiu #xingqiu x reader #request #xinqiu fanfic #genshin

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honeysidesarchived · 3 years ago

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WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

euphemia volpe has never wanted for very much; a safe place to sleep, a soft place to land. to love someone, and be loved back. she has all of those things now, but it's most unfortunate for her that she has fallen in love with a man who will never be satisfied with what he's got.

pt. i: contact is crisis

words: 3.3k

warnings: language, some depictions of a relationship that is not entirely healthy, extensive use of my very basic knowledge of italian (padded with google translate, thank you google!), and an unfortunate amount of endearments and pet names. this does not deviate from john wick chapter 2's canon ending, so please bear in mind this will contain major character death.

rating: m for mature language ??? probably closer to t, but will change later on.

notes: as some of you may know, this has been (unfortunately) sitting on my drive since i first watched john wick chapter two almost a year ago--maybe over a year! i can't remember. all i remember was seeing santino and going "SOMEONE has got to kiss that man". so you know, here i am. this short-fic (only a few, short parts) will take place over the span of the events of john wick chapter 2. yes i built some tiny amount of lore for the camorra. yes i had the opportunity to write a fix-it fic and did not. no i am not taking criticism at this time !

special uber big thank you to my beta and my wifey @starcrier who read this a year ago and when i casually said, "hey, so what if i posted this" told me to do it. also @faithchel, who through the occasional sly prompt slid in from ask games (i see you) has been a true angel while i sort through this, and equally as encouraging!

and of course thank you to you all, who read this. i know this is not the usual content you followed me for but i appreciate you all the same. <3

“I cannot believe that I will marry a man so stupid.”

Euphemia is practically frothing at the mouth, she’s so mad; she storms into the chic New York loft, tossing her purse onto the nearby counter, her heels clipping against the polished floor decisively. It’s late; the silk slip of a dress draped across her body brushes the floor in a sweeping train, and she balances herself on the counter with one hand while she steps out of the stilettos with the assistance of the other.

“Euphie, luce della mia vita,” Santino says, striding in after her and completely at ease. He is, infuriatingly, as he always is; perfectly composed, his dark curls in place and his suit immaculate. Euphemia eyes him through the mirror of her vanity as he sidles up behind her. “We’re not married yet, princesa, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Luce della mia vita,” Euphemia drawls mockingly. She drips the words in honey on the way out of her mouth, sliding a dainty, glittering bracelet from her wrist and dropping it on the counter. “You sound like a fucking idiot, Santi.”

His gaze darkens, but his voice is still silky when he says, “Watch your tone, cara mia.”

“What for?” Euphemia thinks she wouldn’t be able to watch her tone even if she wanted to; not anymore, not with this hanging over her head. She turns to stare at her fiancé, pressing her index finger to his chest. “You’re going to get killed by Baba Yaga anyway. No point in behaving myself, is there? Idiota.”

“Euphemia.”

“You leave John Wick alone, Santino,” she bites out. “You don’t ask for a thing from him. Of him. About him. I don’t want John Wick near my life.”

Santino grabs her wrist, the hand with the engagement ring sitting on it—snatches it out of the air like a cobra striking, grips it with hands that usually are much kinder.

“Everything that you have now is a gift from me,” he warns her, voice pitched low. “You like your nice engagement ring? Your nice dresses? This nice loft we live in?”

His fingers grip, nearly bruising; these are the only times that he doesn’t handle her with care, that his elegant fingers don’t splay against her skin reverently—when she’s pissed him off.

“I’ve given it all to you, all of these things, this life that you like having and don’t want John Wick near, so I would suggest watching your tone for that.”

There is a brief moment where Euphemia thinks she might finally, right now, resort to the violence of slapping Santino in the face. The threat is not lost on her; it’s Santino’s favorite thing to do when he’s angry. And for her to commit an act of violence against her fiancé would be unthinkable almost every other time, in any other situation. Euphie would not have considered it in the least, but there are times—on occasion—where she thinks for a second that she doesn’t recognize him; that he’s become some amalgam of all of the men who have grabbed her too hard or told her she owes them. Men who have used her meanly.

And Santino has divulged his plan to push John Wick for a favor.

So, yes: she thinks she might, but then her hand is moving of her own volition, sliding the engagement ring off of her finger and stuffing it into his jacket pocket, the more pacifist choice than what her mind is screaming for her to do.

“You have never had nothing, Santi,” she says, biting out the words, “so allow me to enlighten you; I have had nothing before you, and I will be just fine having nothing again.”

His eyes narrow, gemlike slits that sit heavy on her. She yanks her wrist of his grip and says, “And it is a good thing we are not married, si? A divorce would have been so messy.”

“Euphie,” Santino says in a sigh that lacks venom, as though he weren’t just threatening to take everything from her, as though she were the hysterical one, “don’t fuss.”

Don’t fuss, he says, because Santino has only ever had women before that bend themselves over backwards until they break for him; don’t fuss, he says, because he likes and maybe loves her, she thinks, but he doesn’t like or love when she talks back. Santino has always had someone to wait on him, to serve him, and Euphemia has never seen his parents together but she would that his only vision of marriage is that of a subservient, dutiful, loving wife.

“Oh, but my darling,” she coos, very undutiful and decidedly not subservient, “I wouldn’t want you to have to worry about all of the nice things you give me. You can enjoy them all yourself, for the brief time before Baba Yaga kills you for asking him to do a job he does not want to do, when he has announced his retirement.”

It’s a terrible way to feed the monster inside of her. That monster is a pusher, a puller, the kind that picked and chipped away at Santino until he lost that shred of his manicured control and gave her something, anything she could work with. It was impossible to love a man who was so buttoned up there was nowhere for her to put her love.

His expression tightens in the way that she recognizes as his controlled fury; bottling it, merchandising it, saving it for later. Santino is not incapable of killing his sister himself, but for some reason—a reason that Euphemia is sure is only known to him—he won’t. Some stupid shit about blood and family, probably.

“Take the ring back.” Santino’s voice is smooth, belying the danger lurking just beneath. He fishes the engagement ring out of the pocket of his suit jacket, where she’d dropped it, and picks up her hand again; this time, his fingers don’t grip with bruising force, but cradle. Euphemia thinks she might have pushed him, then, right to the line, because his eerie calm is unsettling as his fingers meticulously slide the engagement ring back into place.

He says, “There, you see? This is where your engagement ring belongs and will stay. Here, on your hand. Just like this is where you belong and will stay—here, with me.” His hand comes up to her face; she turns away, and he catches her chin and forces her to look back at him.

“You know I will get you anything you want,” Santino murmurs, “but you have to ask.”

Nicely, is the implied word. A good fiancé, a good wife, wouldn’t storm out of the car after he mentions John Wick in passing, ripping through the loft, calling him names. She knows all of this and she thinks, then maybe I’m not a good anything.

But she can tell when she’s pushed Santino’s buttons just enough—enough to make a point, and not enough to incur his wrath. Not entirely.

“Please, Santi,” she says, her voice still hard but softer than it was before, and already Santi is shaking his head so she plunges on recklessly, “do not cash in John Wick’s debt to you. Ascoltami, I know you—I know you will do something to put yourself and John Wick on opposite sides of the playing field.”

Santino’s gaze is sharp and clear. He drops his hand from her face, shrugging, and says, “So what? I will be playing chess, and John Wick will be playing checkers. You worry too much, Euphie.”

“What you mean to say is that I think before I act.”

He shrugs, and threads his fingers through her hair, reaching up with the other to brush loose strands of it from her eyes. He rumbles pleasantly, “Don’t you trust me?”

Euphemia grits her teeth. Her hands come up to grip his wrists, watching him with a prickle of dread in her chest. “Don’t you trust me, Santi?”

Santi’s gaze darkens. Like that, he drops his hands from her, tucking them into the pockets of his slacks as he turns and wanders further into the bedroom, taking all of his warmth with him and leaving Euphie to marinate in the cold glow of the vanity’s lights.

“You can say no,” she says after him, frustrated. “You don’t have to keep an air of mystery about it.”

“What do I do then, tesora?” Santino demands, turning to look at her from the foot of the bed where stands. “Kill her myself? You know I can’t. You know that you cannot ask me to do that.” A pause, and then, with an added air of entitlement: “And Wick owes me.”

There are complicated feelings wrapped up in the whole of it, she knows; Santino, who wants what his sister was given, but cannot bring himself to end her. Euphemia, who only wants Santino, who doesn’t care if he has a seat at the High Table or if he’s a sister-killer or not, who only wants him to look at her longingly like he did when they first met, just for forever instead of a brief moment in time.

And both of them, intrinsically linked, because Santino isn’t wrong when he says that he’s given her everything she has now and Euphemia isn’t wrong when she says she would be okay with nothing again.

She doesn’t ask it of him; he is right, that she can’t, that she wouldn’t. Gianna has only ever been kind to her, at least face to face, and if Santi’s sister had any reservations about Euphemia, then Euphie would find herself in a completely different situation. Not engaged to the only other heir to the D’Antonio empire, that was for certain.

Instead, then, she says, “I cannot ask you to do it, you’re right. I cannot ask you to do it, and I cannot keep you, and I cannot throw you away, Santino. I was less tired when I had nothing.”

She turns away and walks herself into the bathroom, fingers trembling as she undoes the delicate zipper of the gold dress, letting it pool at the floor in a whisper of fabric. The engagement ring sits heavy on her hand. It’s beautiful—and just what she wants, and also the thing that she fears the most, because she doesn’t know what it means to Santino and only what it means to her.

“Euphie.”

His voice comes from the doorway of the bathroom. She turns on the hot water in the tub, a beautiful porcelain clawfoot that she picked herself. It was one of the first things that Santino gifted to her, the first essence of her in the loft that is now almost entirely half-and-half the two of their tastes.

Euphemia doesn’t say anything, because she doesn’t know what to say, so she ties up her hair and shimmies out of the last of her clothes. She can feel his eyes on her, waiting for her to flower into submission and turn around and beg, oh, please Santino, forgive me, but he should know better because she has never and will never do that for him.

“Cara mia.”

“Do not.” Euphemia’s voice wobbles. She slides into the bathtub before it’s full, the water stinging her skin where it touches. “I can’t stand to hear your voice saying sweet things to me when you are willingly walking yourself into your grave.”

“You are being a little dramatic.” He makes his way over to her, kneeling down beside the porcelain tub, ghosting his fingers over her forehead and then the bridge of her nose, fluttering in a way that treasures her and causes her grief all at once. “Just one job, Euphie. That’s all I’m going to ask of him. And then it’s done, and you won’t have to be worried about the Boogeyman.” The pads of his fingers dip into the hot water and then skim along the slope of her collarbone, raising goosebumps on her skin. “And John Wick, whose lifelong peace you are very concerned about, can go back to his dog and his car.”

Euphemia thinks, it’s never just that, with you, because she knows Santino—she knows he’s hungry, has always been hungry, a boy magicked into a man’s skin all hurt and needing and starved, unable to inhibit himself properly. No self-preservation telling him when to stop, never telling him when enough is enough. Not really.

I see you, though, she thought, her gaze flickering over Santino’s face to trace the handsome lines of his expression. She would have never agreed to marry a man before she saw him without his face off; without knowing the monster underneath.

But while she knows this, and she sees Santino D’Antonio for what he really is, she is an idiot and a fool and loves a man sick with the magic of his own perceived destiny, a destiny he believes he is owed, so she says softly, “Promise me, Santi.”

“On my life,” Santino replies with that boyish charm she knows so well. He speaks as though he is not going to leave her in the morning to visit Baba Yaga, as though she doesn’t fear he won’t ever come back. “Now give me a kiss, princesa.”

“I mean it, Santino—”

“I do, too.” He cocks his head to the side. “I won’t ask twice.”

Euphemia acquiesces; not because she fears what he’ll do if he does feel he has to ask twice—because he does hate that—but because as much as she says she would be happy to have nothing again, she is content to bask in the something that she has now, while she has it.

She kisses the corner of his mouth. He slides his damp fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and says, “Do you love me?”

“Of course.” Her voice feels rough with an emotion she doesn’t want any of. “Of course, Santi, that’s why I—”

“All I need is a yes or no, my little fox, not an essay.”

Her eyes narrow. She turns her face from him; he shifts his position at the end she’s leaned against, dragging his hands along her shoulders to ease the tension in her muscles. Her body reacts instinctively to him. She is a long cry from the girl scamming rich men out of their wallets and time, but there are some things she is still weak to; touch, the acknowledgment that she has a body, that she is real, to be reassured that she is alive.

Santino is so very good at that. He leans over the end of the tub and kisses her cheek, fingers working into the knots of her shoulders.

I am so afraid, she thinks, her eyelashes fluttering shut. I am so afraid that I will never see old age on you.

“Tesora.” His voice is a lull. Pulling her back in, pushing her back under, reminding her that to relinquish herself to someone is a luxury she does not want to go without anymore. To let someone else take control, to not have to worry about making decisions all the time; this is something that she always wants.

“Yes,” Euphie says, “of course I love you, Santi.”

She can feel his smile against her cheek.

“Good girl.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tell me your favorite words.”

It’s both early and late; the clock’s cool blue numbers are keeping her awake; Santi’s hand slides along the curve of her hip admiringly above the silk of her nightdress, and his nose brushes the bump at the base of her neck. Euphemia shifts. When she does, the edge of her engagement ring catches on the silky pillowcase, but she doesn’t care—it will always do that, because Santi won’t pick another and Euphie won’t ask him to.

Goosebumps prickle along her skin with the air conditioning, cranked as high as she likes, whispers across it when her shoulder slides out from underneath the comforter. She rolls over to look at him. It’s unsurprising that he’s still awake, and he doesn’t look surprised to see she’s awake, either.

“My favorite words?” she prompts. Santino brings his hand to her face, his thumb dragging absently along her lower lip.

“Si,” he replies. “You are always reading. You can speak a few languages. You must have favorite words, no?”

His request does bring a smile to her face, tired as it is. They may have spent the rest of their waking evening wandering around each other like wounded dogs, wary and licking their wounds, but they are here now, together, in their bed.

Euphie says, “It is late, Santi.”

“And I cannot sleep.” He brushes his nose along her jawline. “But perhaps the soothing voice of my one greatest love will lull me.”

She laughs. Her hand finds his, their fingers interlacing, woven together. He pulls back from her and kisses the engagement ring, but he is waiting. He means it.

“Tendresse,” Euphemia says, the word rolling soft out of her mouth from misuse. Santino quirks a brow expectantly and kisses the pulse point of her wrist. “Tenderness.”

He nods sagely. Against the soft skin of the inside of her wrist, he murmurs, “You are a most tender creature, Euphemia D’Antonio.”

Her fingers slide out of his, running along the slope of his cheekbones and then the bridge of his nose. “That is Euphemia Volpe. If you’ll recall, we’re yet to be married.”

Santino leans in, captures her fingertips playfully with his teeth, and then kisses her palm with a warm, rich chuckle that sends pleasant heat spiraling down her spine. “You will never forget that I was fool enough to say that to you, will you?” he asks. “Tell me another.”

His eyes are just as warm as his voice, and twice as earnest. In these moments, Santino is the most charming; boyish and quick-witted, unburdened by the elements of the world, by his own desires. He thinks of nothing except them. Euphemia feels like she’s in her own little world with him, in their bedroom at three in the morning, while the air conditioner whirrs and ticks and he asks her something so unimportant, like what her favorite words are.

And then, Santino leans in and kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and the underside of her jaw to prompt her.

“Amore,” she murmurs, feeling like the breath has been sucked out of her lungs by his longing. His tenderness.

“Oh,” Santino says, against her temple, “I know that one.”

When his stubble tickles her neck, she squirms, shifting away from him so hat she can take a breath; but he chases her, leans in and captures her in his arms so that he can nose the hair by her ear and kiss there.

“Euphie, my gorgeous girl,” he says in the way that wrenches her heart; drenched and drowned in adoration. “Perfetto e tutto mio.”

Santino wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest, his fingers tracing constellations on her back where the night dress slips away from her shoulder blades. Sweet Santi, covetous Santi; she is his greatest art piece, his favorite collector’s item, and in these moments she has never felt more treasured. There is something equal parts safe and selfish in wanting someone to treasure you.

“Say it for me, Euphie. You know I love when you do.”

She buries her face into his neck. Her eyes burn. He will go to Baba Yaga tomorrow, and she will have to pretend not to know, or it will wreck her. Euphie considers ways to keep him in bed in the morning; delay him, make him forget about John Wick and this glory that he is chasing forever.

“Sono tuo,” she murmurs. Tears sting at the corners of her eyes If he feels them against his skin, Santino makes no indication than to card his fingers through her hair. “Always, Santi.”

Always, always, always yours.

#john wick fic #santino d'antonio x oc #santino d'antonio / oc #spilled ink #c: euphemia volpe #c: santino d'antonio #i have nothing to say for myself except thanks and ily all <3 #scheduled post #x: senza tentazioni senza onore

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danijimenezv · 3 years ago

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Jill Valentine: All About the Past

Date of Birth: February 14th, 1992

Place of Birth: Manhattan, New York

Home: Valentine-Westbrook Estate, in the outskirts of Manhattan.

Family: She’s the third child of Haley (née Westbrook) and Matthew Valentine, and the second daughter. The oldest, Lucas Valentine, was born on January 12th, 1882, followed by Katherine Valentine, born on March 16th, 1884. The youngest, Ivy Valentine, was born on April 18th, 1994.

Growing up, Jill was a total daddy’s girl. And the Valentine girls had Matthew completely wrapped around their little fingers. He would go to the ends of the Earth if his girls asked him to. She wasn’t as close with her mother; the two of them had similar strong character, so they usually clashed, but their relationship was still strong. All of that was until the moment Jill decided to pursue human medicine instead of veterinary medicine, like she was supposed to. Her decision created a huge rift between them, and although they didn’t disown her and still paid for her education, her parents didn’t save their comments to themselves. Both of them, but especially her mother, made sure that she understood how disappointed they were in her. They thought she was throwing away her life, all they had built for her. Jill got used to those resentful comments and passive-aggressive remarks, but they still did their fair share of damage, and her relationship with her parents was never the same after that.

Jill is much closer with her older brother than with any of her sisters, because they share the most similarities, but the four of them are tight-knit. Lucas is ten years older than her, and the considerable age-gap caused their relationship to be as smooth as it could get between siblings. Since the moment she was born, Jill became Luke’s little princess, he spoils her immensely and he’s defensive and overprotective when it comes to her. In turn, Luke became Jill’s hero, and she looks up to him for absolutely everything. And when the time came, Luke was the one to really believe and support her, unlike their parents.

Her relationship with Katherine varies from time to time. Kat is eight years older than Jill, and acts as a protective and bossy older sister as much as she can. The age-gap is enough so they don’t exactly fight for possessions or games like a pair of sisters would. Though, much to Jill’s dismay, Katherine is almost an exact copy of their mother, so she clashes with her more than with the rest of her siblings. It also doesn’t help that Jill grew up being constantly compared to Katherine, so there’s a residual resentment underneath that make their relationship rocky from time to time. Still, the two love each other deeply and would do anything for one another.

With Ivy, the dynamic shifted, because she was no longer dealing with older siblings; with her, Jill became the older sister. she’s two years older than Ivy. She’s protective and defensive of her, but without being overbearing like their two older siblings would. Being closest in age, they shared most moments growing up and bonded over their similar experiences together. Between them, existed the usual fights for toys, games, clothes and make-up that didn’t exist with the other two, but also a better understanding of what the other was experiencing. Still, while Jill is a close copy of their older brother, Ivy resembles Katherine more, so they clash from time to time.

Jill grew up in a privileged home, as part of a wealthy family. Though, her parents didn’t want a nanny to raise their kids, so they got involved as much as they could and were really hands-on. They had a butler, Roman, that was just as involved as their parents, but never stepped in as a replacement for them. She grew up with three siblings, two older and one younger, in the family estate, in the outskirts of Manhattan.

Coming from a traditional family with old money, Jill’s upbringing was different from what anyone expected; it was a pretty strict environment. As per custom, at the age of six, each Valentine has to take a set of important decisions, established from generation to generation; they have to choose an artistic skill to develop, a music instrument, a language to study and a sport, so all of them would be educated in every area. Jill chose dancing, piano, French and tennis, respectively. And, coming from a family of veterinarians, at the age of ten each Valentine gets a pet, so they can learn to be responsible and mature from a young age; each of them are in charge of everything their pet might need, including food, exercise, medicines, etc. Jill’s first pet was a cat named Theo.

Even though she’s from a wealthy family, Jill was taught to do chores and earn everything by herself. She was taught to cook the basics, do laundry, sweep, vacuum, wash dishes, clean bathrooms, dust, mop, iron clothes, mow the lawn… And once she turned fifteen, she was also expected to work half-time two days a week at the Veterinary Hospital with her parents, to learn about hard work. She had a trust-fund, but she never used it because she only spent what she had truly earned.

Growing up, she also struggled with really connecting with people outside of her family. Because of her vibrant personality, Jill got along with everyone, but she only considered one of them her true friend, Hunter Griffin. Hunter and Jill became inseparable from the moment they met, when they were merely five years-old, and their friendship only grew stronger with time, and she was sure Hunter loved her for exactly who she was, that’s why it was easy to open up to him. Jill always hated how most of people either wanted her for her family’s fame or money, or expected her to be a clone of her older sister, so she learned to not get too attached to people, friendship-wise and relationship-wise.

All in all, it was a pretty strict and intense environment. It didn’t help that, in her eyes, her older sister, Katherine, was apparently perfect in every aspect, and Jill always felt like she was living in her sister’s shadow, being constantly compared to her. All of it combined only prompted Jill’s partying habit to break out, as a coping mechanism. And even if she partied up as a teenager, she was always the responsible one, never drinking nor doing drugs, but simply letting loose.

Even though Jill lived to her party girl reputation, she kept up her grades close to perfect, which was the main reason her parents could never ground her for going to any and every party and staying out all she wanted. She attended Léman Manhattan Preparatory School with perfect record. She kept up her GPA and was appointed Valedictorian and Prom Queen, just like the rest of her siblings and family members before them. As a teen socialite, she was constantly bothered by paparazzi and also quite under the spotlight, so every little thing she did ended up being public knowledge, to the point where she’s also been photographed for a few magazine issues. She was a debutante, like it was custom for everyone in her family, and has attended more balls, galas, reunions and charity events than any normal teenager. Though, even if she gained quite a reputation, in public events with her family she’s always been seen as polite, diplomatic, elegant, and downright charismatic, which earned the media’s favor.

Most of it continued all the way to college. She moved away from New York when she was accepted into Harvard; however, she wasn’t a known public figure in Boston, which was something she welcomed deeply, so she finally earned some peace and privacy. She toned down her party girl habits to only from time to time when she felt like it, and instead focused mainly on her studies. Jill quickly became the top student of her class and graduated with honors, part of it because it was something she was passionate about, and another part of it to prove her parents that this was the path for her.

From the moment she turned fifteen, her family set them up with one of her classmates, from another well-known family. His name was Augustus Danvers. The two of them got along great and even though they both tried to make it work, for their families’ sakes, they quickly discovered they didn’t have any actual romantic feelings for one another. Their first time was with each other, but not because there were feelings; it was more because they were used to each other and wanted to get over the curiosity. After that, they came to an agreement, to keep it an open relationship, where both of them could see other people and date whoever they wanted, but for family gatherings and social events, they pretended to be together. Even though they weren’t really together, they agreed to break-up, secretly, during winter break in their senior year, and later amicably broke-up in public after their prom dance.

It was Jill’s only ‘serious’ relationship. Given that she had learned to not get too attached to people, friendship-wise and relationship-wise because of her family name, she never got too close to anyone, and never felt the true want to commit to a single person. She had a long string of casual dates and hookups, but never an actual relationship. It also didn’t help that, from a young age, Jill was witness to Katherine’s devastating heartbreak after being left at the altar, and since that moment, Jill swore to never let that happen to herself. Though, she’s always honest with anyone she’s seeing about what she wants and what she doesn’t, because she would never get someone’s hopes up just to destroy them. She’s mature enough to know what to say to keep things honest and transparent, drama-free, and when to walk away when it’s not something that works for her or the other person.

Once she moved to Boston, she kept things short and casual with everyone. At Edenbrook, she pursued a friends-with-benefits, no-strings-attached kind of relationship with Bryce Lahela, and even went on a couple of casual dates with Rafael Aveiro. Though, Ethan was the game changer. She didn’t realize she was falling for him until it was too late and there was no going back.

Bonus:

A few of Jill’s magazine appearances

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