#many many many things were felt but i thoroughly enjoyed the idea of inflicting pain on him

[thighridingsamu]

WAIT MORGAN WHAT DID YOU FEEL! SAY IT WITH YOUR CHEST 👀

i refuse to make it public that i was attracted to sukuna

so no i will not say it with my chest

[spicysoftsweet]

Chapter 13

Masterlist 

cw: nsfw, timeskip

 “Mmm.”

A soft moan of pleasure left Kumi’s lips as she continued to roll her hips slowly, a smile on her face as she leaned forward, letting her palms glide up her partner’s chest. His eyes seemed to glaze over with lust still as he looked upon her breasts, and she giggled.

It truly was nice to be with someone who definitely loved you more than you loved them, she thought fleetingly, then attempted to banish the idea from her own mind.

Perhaps it was an unkind thought. She liked the guy she was currently riding enough; Seiichi was nice to look at with heavy-lidded eyes, shaggy dirty blonde hair and an easy going smile, and he had been attentive and caring to her through these last couple of years as they futzed through medical school together.

At graduation just a couple weeks ago, he’d asked her how she felt about the two of them becoming official and she’d avoided the question, and he’d known better not to bring it up again. Kumi considered that he’d perhaps ask again now, now that she was hovering above him and his hands pressed firmly around her waist and she could feel her stomach coil tighter and tighter the longer they moved together.

He didn’t just like her more, he liked her too much for her comfort, she’d realized.

“Kumi, I-” he began, cheeks flushed, but then she’d cut him off abruptly.

“I’m moving back to Tokyo-” she blurted out, right before she felt herself snap and let out a strangled cry as she climaxed and promptly collapsed onto him. She could barely see his look of distress as he took in this sudden news, his cock softening inside her almost immediately, but she could feel the quickening pace of his heart. 

It was an asshole move.

“You’re what?” He asked.

Kumi shifted her legs as he slipped out of her, then rolled over to the side so that she was staring at the ceiling and not at him.

“I’m leaving this weekend,” she repeated, cheeks still warm as she recovered from her orgasm. The pensive, slightly amused look on her face was unchanging, as though she had simply told him about a funny dream she’d had, and Seiichi, who had thought he was making some progress all these years realized all at once that he’d never even cracked the surface of her frozen heart. The idea of him having wasted his time so thoroughly aggravated him suddenly.

“Were you ever going to fucking say anything?” He hissed. “Or did it just hit you spur of the moment to say something like this?”

She turned towards him, noting his now red-faced and angry expression, and placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it softly. There was something akin to pity in her look, but not love.

“I didn’t think it was important,” she replied simply.

She could have left it at that, and Seiichi may have calmed down and even considered bargaining with her - trips back and forth maybe, a vacation here or there, she just had to tell him that she still wanted him, in some capacity, and it would still be alright.

“You are important to me,” he said and attempted to mirror her action, but frowning, Kumi moved backwards and quickly made her way off the bed, redressing herself.

He watched her with anticipation, anxiety choking the words in his throat as she got ready to leave.

After an unnecessarily silent period of time, she turned to him and smiled widely, something unnatural and painful and flat all at once.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”

---

“Why did you decide to become a doctor?”

Kumi hated this question every single time it was asked. The truest answer was when my middle school boyfriend died in a gang fight in front of me, mostly due to self-inflicted injury that could have been preventable if only I had the skills, but it wasn’t exactly the answer that earned her points with anyone. If anything, it only invited more unnecessary questions.

Instead, she offered something generic like, “I’ve always had a passion to take care of others and found that I was interested in the science of the human body and thus pursued my passion in this way.” It was sufficiently true, she figured, even if it wasn’t as exciting a reason.

The interviewer seemed to be impressed enough with the lackluster response, as she expected. Her grades were excellent, after all, so this interview was somewhat of a formality. The only thing that worried her was whether or not she was ready to move back to Tokyo for residency, and decided after very brief contemplation that she was.

It had been so many years since that event had happened, after all. She couldn’t possibly still be hung up on the past.

People died all the time; years of medical school had taught her this. She could prevent some death but not all.

When she’d received the residency position, she was excited as the program was top rated in the country for emergency medicine training, but then recalled that she likely had no one left in Tokyo. Her parents had long since moved to the United States permanently along with her grandmother who had taken her in charge up until she’d started college, and her brother, many years older, lived on the other end of the country. They weren’t close, even if she had wanted to be.

She had no one left. She’d even briefly wondered if she could bring Seiichi with her, and realized it would be too cruel to use him in this way. Seiichi would remain in their city, pursuing specialization in pediatrics, so his goals and her goals wouldn’t be compatible anyway.

Why Tokyo?

Her mother hated even the idea of moving back there, and she’d had to reassure her repeatedly that more than ten years had passed, so there was no way she’d return to that dark place she’d been in the latter fourteenth and entire fifteenth year of her life.

“Are you sure?” Her mother pressed.

“Yes, mom,” she reassured her. “I won’t even be living on the same side of the city.”

And I’m past it, she thought.

With that, she moved to a small apartment in Tokyo alone on a Saturday morning and started her first day of work as a newly minted doctor that very Monday.

The first day was busy and the emergency department was as busy and as hectic as she should have expected being in a major city, but she survived after putting in her hours, clocking out sometime between 13 to 15 hours after the beginning of her shift, exhausted and with no one to go home to. As she sat on the train, trying not to let her tired eyes glaze over, she downloaded a dating app, swiped left and right on a couple of strange faces then sighed loudly.

It was a dumb idea to meet men if she was going to have no one to call in case of an emergency.

Kumi made it to her new home, hopping into the shower, and changing into soft shorts and a pajama shirt immediately before preparing some instant noodles for dinner. She made a mental note to buy some real groceries sometime this weekend. She then quickly texted a message to her parents to tell them her first day had gone well.

She would be fine.

As she ate her meal in silence, her mind flitted to Kaksi for a moment. She wondered how she was doing. Should she contact her? They hadn’t spoken in over a decade. Did she miss her? Was she even still in this city?

She finished her meal and shook off the thought of digging up past relationships. She wouldn’t want to burrow too deeply and be hurt by what she found.

---

Kaksi rested the ends of her chopsticks on the dark blue and white hashioki in front of her. Then her brown eyes wandered outside, enjoying Tokyo’s skyline through the large glass windows of the private room she shared with her friend. Blue eyes studied her features quietly, while slender fingers brought the white chopsticks to rosy lips.

“Did you not like the food?”

“Oh, I did,” Kaksi replied in a soft voice. “I’m just not very hungry.”

Senju didn’t say anything for a moment. By now she had memorised all of Kaksi’s habits, which made it usually easy for her to pick up on her emotions and thoughts.

“Are you nervous?” she asked before taking a sip of her drink.

Kaksi smiled.

“I guess I am.”

Was this moment shared together their goodbye? As much as Senju preferred not to dwell on the future, she couldn’t ignore the inevitable change that Kazutora’s return would bring into her life. She had made a mistake, growing too comfortable treating Kaksi like she was hers when she was someone else’s all along.

Senju had never met Manjiro Sano despite the similar lifestyle they shared but back when Kaksi would still talk about him, she compared them a lot. Brahman’s leader used to believe she was nothing like him, the idea of ever leaving Kaksi behind unthinkable to her but now she wondered if the reason behind their fall out wasn’t just Mikey trying to spare his own feelings, something Senju failed to do by falling for her best friend.

She had been foolish to think Kaksi would fail to keep her promise. While they had shared more kisses that they could both count and uncovered the secrets to each other’s body in between almost forbidden confessions, Senju still wasn’t the one Kaksi wished to have by her side, or maybe she did. It had felt like she did so many times and it still felt that way as they walked out of the expensive restaurant too close to each other.

Kaksi’s hands were always so cold but Senju liked to warm them up. Tonight however the brunette wouldn’t let her like she had been doing for the past months. Senju was being selfish again, she knew. Kaksi couldn’t say no, not to her, not when she would give her those pleading blue eyes or slide her hand around her waist.

“Sen,” she said, irritated and distancing herself from her best friend.

But this time she had to say no.

“I don’t think I can do it, Kaksi.”

Kazutora would be out of jail in a few days and Kaksi had already planned out a future for them, one that she had desired ever since they had promised to never leave each other’s side back when they were children. It was unfair that she couldn’t preserve what she had built for the past years but if it wasn’t her then who would watch out for Kazutora? There was an obligation Kaksi felt to him, one that she felt like she could never get rid of but this was also what she wanted.

“I don’t think he would be happy in Tokyo,” she told her.

Senju rolled her eyes at her answer. Why was it that Kaksi always had to make her life revolve around him?

“Aren’t you happy in Tokyo?” she asked, voice louder as her irritation grew.

“I need a change of air.”

“Do you need a change of air or do you think Kazutora needs one?” Senju replied. “Because those are two very different things.”

“I think we do.”

Senju stayed quiet for a moment. She wondered if Kaksi could see that what she felt was beyond jealousy. If Kaksi didn’t want to stay by her side that was fine by her, as painful as it was but she wished her best friend would choose herself instead of someone else sometimes.

“You know, you can’t make decisions for others, Kaksi,” Senju reminded her. “You can only make decisions for yourself.”

Kaksi chuckled but it was irritation that she felt.

“This is not how I want things to end between us before I leave for Osaka,” Kaksi told her.

Then you could just stay, at least.

“I don’t think there is any other way for it to end,” Senju admitted, her blue eyes not hiding a sadness she had been containing for too long.

Kaksi fell silent, not sure about what she could say if this was really how they were meant to say goodbye to each other. Senju took a deep breath.

“I hope Kazutora and you enjoy Osaka,” she said with a genuine smile, contrasting with the disappointment and sadness she felt moments before.

But she meant those words. Maybe she was the one who didn’t get it, maybe this was what Kazutora desired and maybe this was something only Kaksi could offer and wanted to offer. There was nothing rational about feelings after all but even after experiencing all of those emotions, Senju couldn’t help thinking only a bit of madness could explain Kaksi’s behaviour sometimes.

If she did get it though. Then there was only one thing she needed Kaksi to remember even though she was choosing Kazutora right now and had planned to always do so.

“But if you don’t then come back to me in Tokyo.”

Kaksi’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of Senju’s smile. She couldn’t smile back but she nodded as she watched her walk away, in a direction she wouldn’t follow this time.

---

“You said you grew up in the city, right?” The girl situated beside Kumi asked, turning slightly in the booth of the bar. The man sitting directly across from her, who from the beginning of the gaokon had seemed to have set his sights on her, perked his ears up.

“I thought you were foreign!” he asked, and she flashed her most charming smile in response despite mild irritation, accepting a drink from her coworker as she spoke.

“Nope, I’ve been here since early childhood. Briefly moved just outside Kyoto in my teen years, but I guess technically Tokyo is my home,” she explained.

The young man before her nodded, leaning just close enough that she began to grow uncomfortable. She couldn’t tell if the man’s interest was related to an expectation that she’d put out more readily than the other women on this date, and just because of that, she was determined not to spend the night with him. Instead, she focused her attention on the girl behind her who was also desperately trying to avoid eye contact with another guy who had latched onto her.

This group blind date was a bust.

Kumi didn’t feel too bad about it, however. She would appreciate anything that allowed her not to think about work. An adolescent boy had come in earlier in the day with a stab wound, and despite the fact that this was not the first time she’d seen injured children or the sequela of gang violence, perhaps the fact that she was back in this city made it such that the event had unearthed some trauma. She found that her hands shook as she stabilized the teen and for a moment, she thought she had even seen a flash of Baji in that young boy and temporarily forgot how to breathe.

That couldn’t happen again.

She should be over it. She had to be.

“Would you like to meet again?” The man whose name she’d long since forgotten - Tadashi? Satoshi? - asked her at the close of the evening, when she’d made it sufficiently clear that she was just interested in going home.

She should have said no, but instead she politely exchanged phone numbers with him, fully intending to block him in three to five days.

But who knew when she’d be lonely again?

---

A week later, Kumi could get over the haunting visage of the young boy who looked everything and nothing like Baji, but she couldn’t get over the sudden talk of gang activity on the news she let play in the background while she reviewed medical publications.

A horrific truck accident, involving a young woman about her age, had taken the news by storm. Listening closer, she heard a name that sounded familiar but not recognizable.

Hinata Tachibana.

It felt like a name she should remember, but she figured they might have interacted before she had relocated for high school, and most of the things and people from before then were essentially blocked out of her memory.

But not the name Toman.

Kumi perked up, sipping onto her tea and folding her legs beneath her as she sat on the couch, finally setting her paper aside, now that the television had caught her interest. There were no real suspects, but the death was thought to be related to this group, as were a series of other random execution-like killings. Kumi took a look at the still image of the young woman’s face, eyes wide, noting that she definitely looked familiar to her, like she’d seen her at least once or twice a long time ago. She couldn’t imagine her having done anything wrong or any act that would anger someone enough to order her death.

Toman doesn’t kill. Toman doesn’t do real crime, she thought.

But times had changed, and maybe they did do real crime now. She wondered briefly if Mitsuya was still part of Toman. What had become of Mikey and Draken, and the rest?

Did Kaksi know what Toman had become over the years?

Kumi unconsciously reached for her phone beside her to call, then caught herself. She hesitated for a moment, letting the sudden wash of anxiety run through her, then shut off the television instead and returned to her reading.

Let sleeping dogs lie, she thought, and she spent the rest of her night, minding her own business, minding her future.

---

She wouldn’t have broken if not for her dream that night.

“Bambi, you don’t ever stop crying, do you?”

Kumi’s eyes jolted open at the sound of that voice, the mischievous laugh she remembered from her childhood, even if it was richer, an evolved version. It couldn’t be, could it?

But she was no longer in her room. Instead, she was somewhere warm and blindingly bright, where her eyes could barely adjust, and her body felt… lighter?

She rose to a sitting position, shielding her watering eyes from the light, only to be startled by a warm hand taking hers, interlacing their fingers.

“Kumi-chan, look.”

Her eyes opened again, and this time, rather than light unfocusing her, there was a man before her, with a face that was foreign yet oh-so-familiar, crouched down on one knee and still holding her hand gently.

Fangs grinned back at her, and she gasped.

“K-Kei..?”

Her voice came out no more than a squeak and suddenly in her heart she was fourteen again, and her lip started to quiver as she repeated his name again.

What did this mean? To be looking at him again, a him that was no longer dead just days before he turned fifteen, whose dark, wavy locks were even longer and whose face had aged just as much as hers, but with the same fox-like brown eyes that she’d fallen in love with a decade ago as part of a sharper angled, handsome face?

She repeated his name yet again, heart thumping and tears welling up in her eyes, and he cupped her face in her hands, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears.

He frowned.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said, a pensive look on his face. He sighed, and Kumi felt his lips press onto her forehead. Warm, soft lips that felt every bit as real as she did, and it only made her hurt more.

She was hallucinating. All of this was impossible, whatever this was.

So why did it feel so real?

“I miss you so much,” she choked out.

A decade had passed, and here she was. Conjuring up an image of Baji as he could have been if he had lived, something that may not be real. She wasn’t even sure he’d look like this - might he have cut his hair, or gotten his teeth fixed? How did she know what his voice would settle to be like in adulthood, and if this soothing baritone in her ears was anything close? How did she know he would grow to this height he now stood at, towering over her once he’d pulled her to her feet and pressed her head against his chest? How did she know what his arms would feel like wrapped around her? Would she actually have felt this safe and warm?

Would he have still cared for her, had he lived?

“I miss you too.”

She sobbed harder.

“How can you miss me when you’re dead?”

He paused, and let a hand stroke through her hair.

“Pretend.”

Almost shocked, she pulled back and looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He smiled sadly at her and shrugged.

“Pretend I’m still here with you. I’ll stay with you till morning comes,” he promised. "I can promise you at least this much.”

There’s a point where it’s easier to live in the delusion, and it was at this point, where Baji leaned in to kiss her, then embrace her in a way they never could in life. They drank deeply of each other throughout the night, connecting with each other physically and emotionally, and the young woman hoped that the cursed morning would never come, where she’d have to give up on this dream or vision or delusion or whatever the fuck it was, and return to reality.

But alas the dead cannot commune with the living forever.

Kumi woke up in a cold bed where Baji was no longer inside her or beside her or with her, and there was nothing that remained but messy bed sheets, dampness between her legs and unrelenting, fresh pain in her heart.

She brought her knees to her chest, and felt new anguish for the first time in years. Birds chirped outside her window to welcome the dawn and light seeped through her window, and on this cool Saturday morning, she had regressed to the same child curled up in blankets, encountering heartbreak for the first time.

Why?

Why couldn’t she get past this?

Her father had said it first. It’s just a boy.

And here she was, a grown woman, who no longer could love, hanging on desperately to a ghost.

Kumi’s phone alarm went off suddenly - she’d forgotten to turn it off - and she reached for her phone, her whole body shaking like a leaf. She was pathetic, despite the fact that she so desperately wanted to be strong.

And thus, the moment she quieted the alarm, she dialed the only person who could understand the pain she felt. Even if it was selfish. Even if it had been a decade.

She didn’t expect her to pick up, but she did.

“Kumi?”

The familiar sound of Kaksi’s voice made her want to weep in a different way. Relief rushing over a wave.

She sucked air into her lungs and smiled, warm, thankful tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Kaksi, I missed you so much.”

[mypassionfortrash]

KICKS (part two)

Betsy Bright cracks her whip and quashes Roger’s kinky dreams before they’ve even taken flight. Inexperience and Betsy’s shortage of enthusiasm, coupled with a lack of aftercare, have excruciating consequences for him and he ends up back at Kicks seeking more advice from you.

Warnings: Strong D/s themes later on; strong themes of physical abuse. There’s a bit of fluff and angst in this one. STRICTLY 18+. Notes: Thank you so much for the lovely response on the first part – I really do appreciate it! As always, feedback is thoroughly appreciated, and if you like this, please reblog it so people can see it. If you’d like to be tagged, just send me a message – I don’t bite ☺️

Catch up: Part one

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​ @sarahgurl09​ @scorpiogemini @johnricharddeacy​​ @brianssixpence​​ @hellohellothere12 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @internationalkpoplova @thefairyfellersmasterstroke @six-bloodyminutes 

Betsy Bright was cute.

Betsy Bright was rich.

Betsy Bright had big green eyes and wore dark crimson lipstick.

But above all, Betsy Bright didn’t have a clue. 

So much so that you were certain that what she piled into her basket on her first visit to Kicks would have excruciating consequences for her boyfriend.

That much you knew.

You were sure she did, too.

But she didn’t want your help, even though you trailed behind her, watching her like a hawk. Everything she picked up, you questioned, as the knot inside your stomach tightened like badly-rigged Shibari.

“Have you tried wax play before?” you asked as she bundled a pack of candles into her cart. They were skin-safe, but could still cause a shocking amount of pain if you didn’t know how to use them properly.

Betsy shrugged. “Can’t be that hard, can it? Tie him up, drip some wax on him. He’ll love it.”

It was that hard. It took you years to master that art and even then you still managed to burn yourself if things got too heated during a scene.

Then she moved to the hoods. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to pair the candles with one these if he’s – you’re – not used to it,” you cautioned.

“It’s just as well the customer is always right, then, because I think it’s a fantastic idea,” she said, flashing you a steely glare. She reached out her elegant red-nailed fingers and brushed over the myriad of options. Spandex. Latex. Leather. Lace. Rubber. Eye holes. Nose holes. Mouth holes. No holes. Some came with gags, bits and blinkers, and others came with phallic objects attached to the mouth. Some even locked. “It’s your fault he wants to try all of this.” Her hand settled on a red latex gimp mask with nothing but two nose holes and a lock around the neck. “I think this is perfect,” she said. “Don’t you think.”

Your eyes widened as you nodded. Then you retreated behind the cash desk, hoping that the distance would lower your apprehension. But when she sauntered over to the impact play section, your heart sank. 

Betsy bright didn’t go for a cute little riding crop or even a small, soft paddle. She bypassed canes and cat o’ nine tails in many different guises. Instead, she settled on a whip. 

You knew she wasn’t going to be talked out of her purchases, as harmful as they would be to Roger. But you could at least try your best to mitigate any pain or discomfort for him. After all, you kind of liked him – and you had a duty.

You did a patrol of the shop, picking up items that might help save Roger from bleeding or dropping too hard, too fast. As Betsy came over to the cash desk and dumped her basket, she spied them. Alcohol swabs, some lotion and a bottle of bubble bath.

She screwed up her beautiful features and succeeded in turning herself into a monster. “You’re not going to fucking sell me these on top of everything else? Don’t you think I’m spending enough in this shithole?”

“No,” you began, clinging to what little patience you had left. “I’m going to give you these for free. Aftercare’s really important and–”

“He’s a grown man. He can handle it.”

“I’m just going to put these in your bag. Whether or not Roger wants to use them is up to him,” you said.

Betsy threw her money down on the counter and reached out to grab her bag. But you held on to it. She wore an expression that could sour milk in seconds flat.

“It’s up to him. Not you,” you repeated. “Do you understand.”

“Right, I get it. Now let me get out of here.”

———————————————————————————

Roger’s back stung. His thighs burned. And his cock? It was flat as a pancake. Much to Betsy’s dismay as she moved to straddle her boyfriend to get herself off.

“I thought you enjoyed this?” she remarked, examining Roger’s limp member and ripping back the latex hood to expose his mouth.

He had to bite back tears when he spoke, unable to move away from her. He thanked his lucky stars for the hood. “I told you to ease up.”

“Oh, bollocks! What’s the point in doing this if I’m just going to fucking tickle you?” she scolded. “I’m going home, Roger. Fuck this. This is weird.”

“Can you… can you at least untie me?”

“No, I think I’ll leave you there to fester in your own filth.”

As soon as Betsy’s footsteps disappeared out of earshot, Roger gave up fighting. He let the tears flow as freely as they could until he passed out from pain and exhaustion.

————————————————————————— 

Even recounting the story, Roger was on the verge of breaking down, hunched over the cash desk and staring down into his coffee cup.

“And she didn’t even untie you?” you asked, stroking his shoulder.

He flinched under your touch like a wounded animal and shook his head.

“How’s your back?”

“Fucking agony. I can’t even walk properly.”

“When you got up, was there any blood or pus on the sheets?”

He shook his head.

“Can I take a look?”

He nodded.

“Alright, I’m going to close the shop so that we won’t be disturbed. You head through into the backroom and get your top off for me. I’ll be through in a minute.”

You worked quickly, turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed,’ locking the door and grabbing some soothing lotion from the shelves. You wandered back through to find Roger shirtless and slouched over the countertop with his head nestled between his arms. But if that sight wasn’t sorry enough, the sight of his back was.

Deep, crimson stripes had been bored into Roger’s pale skin in places that no dominant worth their stripes would even dream of. You had to work quickly. “Betsy sure knows how to crack a whip, hm?” you said, trailing your fingers over Roger’s black and blue spine. “You’re lucky this hasn’t come up in welts just yet. Because you don’t want that.”

“I didn’t want this full stop,” Roger remarked as you continued to examine him. “Ah! Fuck – not there!”

Your fingers brushed over the spot where his kidneys were. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah. Hurts.”

“Hold on, I think I’ve got some lidocaine gel here somewhere.”

“Who the hell just has lidocaine sitting around?”

“People who do this on a regular basis.” You rifled around in the first aid box – specially adapted for the specific needs of the business – and pulled out the tube, along with some rubber gloves and sachets of alcohol swabs. “Now hold still. I’m gonna disinfect these first.”

“Oh! Oh, you bitch!” Roger cursed, sinking his teeth into his knuckles. “Oh, you fucking bitch. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh, you heathen. Betsy’s got nothing on you. You’re cruel, cruel, I tell you! Oh…” He paused, feeling the cool, numbing sensation of the lidocaine on his wounds. “Oh god.”

“Like that?” you asked.

“That’s nice.”

Roger’s muscles relaxed as you swapped the swabs and lidocaine for lotion, working it into his skin. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as the burning on his skin subsided and his eyes fluttered closed; allowing himself to be transported to a universe of sheer bliss that he truly deserved.

“Now we’re loosening you up,” you hummed. “How are you feeling.”

“A lot better,” he said. “Thank you.”

“That’s alright. Never ever let someone strike you near your spine, lungs or kidneys. Especially not with a whip. They do a lot of damage.”

“Tried to tell her to stop,” he mumbled. 

“I know,” you said, attempting to soothe him.

“Don’t think I’ll be trying anything like that again in a hurry.”

“Don’t give up. It’s a bit like dating, really. You know, us mere mortals have to kiss a lot of frogs before we find someone we’re comfortable with,” you explained, kneading at Roger’s tired shoulders. “Kink’s like that too.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s a minefield. Especially for younger women. Not saying that men have it any better, but younger, more submissive, women tend to go a bit too hard, a bit too fast. And there are lots of people out there who think being dominant is all about control and inflicting as much pain as they can on someone who can’t fight back.”

“I’m terrified of doing that to someone.”

“You’d be a great dom then… I think.” You felt a chuckle vibrate through Roger’s ribcage.

“You think?”

“Yeah. Trust me, I can tell. I’ve had more bad doms than tongue could tell, so I know a – potentially – good one when I see one.”

“I’ll stick to taking it.”

“It’s always the submissive that controls a scene.”

“Right,” Roger scoffed.

“No. Really. A good dom talks to you beforehand, listens to your limits and gets creative with what they can do to make you feel… something. And if it’s too much, they listen to their sub and know when to drop it right back. Or stop altogether.”

“Doesn’t sound like Betsy at all,” he said. “So which one are you?”

“A bit of both.”

“Does it go hand-in-hand with who you’re with?” he asked. “Is it important to your relationships?”

“Not really. It’s just acting… playing. And I like to keep it separate from sex – or love – if I can. The two don’t have to be interlinked, I don’t think. It’s just adults… playing.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you keep it separate?”

“Have you ever had sex with someone you didn’t love, just for the sake of having fun?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there you go.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Roger said flatly.

You didn’t respond. You just kept massaging Roger’s back with slightly more pressure.

“I know there is,” he pressed. “You’ve gone quiet.”

“Look, sex is a really special thing to me. There has to be a certain amount of feelings there before I could ever let someone near me again,” you snapped.

Roger turned to you, looking sullen. “Again? What happened to you?”

“Like I said, there are a lot of bad, controlling people out there,” you said, grabbing Roger’s shirt and throwing it to him. “And besides, have you thought about what you’re going to do with Betsy?”

“What’s that song?” Roger asked, buttoning his shirt. “Paul Simon…”

“Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover?”

“That’s the one,” he said following you out on to the shop floor. “It’s gonna be in my head all day now. Might give me some inspiration.”

“Seriously, Roger,” you began, “Please have a think about it. I know I barely know you, but I don’t want her hurting you. And I don’t want her to put you off exploring what you’re into… beyond shagging everything that moves.”

“I’ll think of something,” he said. 

Without thinking, he held out his arms and threw them around you in a bone-crushing embrace. He smelled divine. Like smoke and amber and snowy pine forests on a winter’s day. And, rocking from foot to foot together, you couldn’t resist drinking in that intoxicating scent as your bodies melted together.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Just doing my job.”

“I don’t think you get paid to give back massages.”

“I get paid to give good advice though.”

The rocking suddenly stopped when something caught Roger’s eye over your shoulder in the corner of the shop. “What’s that?” he asked, still hugging you.

“What’s what?” you asked, lifting your face from the crook of his neck.

Roger let go and bolted over to the distraction.

You let out a nervous laugh when you realised what had ripped Roger’s attention away from you. “Oh yeah. That, dear Roger, is a fucking machine.”

Roger’s jaw nearly hit the floor at the sight of the lewd and unsightly contraption. “Well, that’s just genius! How does it work?”

You rolled your eyes and picked it up, then you plonked it on the cash desk. “Basically,” you began, pointing to the plate at the end of the long metal rod, “you get a big fat rubber cock, and attach it to this with a suction cup or something. Then, you lie back, or get on all fours, whichever position tickles your fancy, hit the remote control and get the life pounded out of you.”

“Christ, that’s brilliant!”

“No man required,” you said, folding your arms.

Roger grinned and stuck his hands in his back pockets. “I absolutely love female empowerment, don’t you?”

>>NEXT>>

[oh-theres-a-woman]

War Melodies on the Gramophone

A/N: Once more, the attention on my stories are greatly appreciated and bring fullness to my heart. Today, I give you another story. Maybe one more tonight if I’m feeling inspired enough. This one is set before the time of season one, in the beginning, then finishes at the start of season two. Please feel free to share, comment or request something else. Much love! xxx

Taglist: @zodiyack​ , @itsfrancisneptun​ , @shelbys-we-get-the-job-done​ & @fandom-fucking-shit​

Pairing: Thomas “Tommy” Shelby X Female Reader

Word Count: 1733

Edit: PART 2 is available now! Enjoy everyone. Thank you for all the love! It really means the world and so much more.

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You were a combat nurse on the Western Front, through the muddy earth that was mixed so heavily with blood. Time was spent patching up the boy’s and broken men to be blown back to hell once more. Shooing them away to meet the bullets and fire of the enemy. Ones that were too far gone were buried or sent home to your mother England. 

How you longed to see the homeland once more, to be away from the thick smell of death, blood, rot and mud. To sleep a full night without being awoken by the shaking earth. When shells hit. Cries and wailing men who longed to be home like yourself. If one ever thought that war brought glory again, you’d daringly and happily throw them in the cot to drown. This war had already reaped too much to bestow glory and make one enjoy the angst and grief felt. 

You stood outside on one of your rare breaks, lighting a cigarette. Prescribed by yourself for the clear nerves and torment that was suffered here. It was at that point you didn’t quite know what the white apron looked like anymore. So stained with blood and no matter how much you tried to wash it. Forever the bloody thing seemed stained an awful shade between red and pink. Hands quaked as you held your stick, inhaling taking in a momentary taste of nicotine instead of the dense air. Flicking ash off onto the sodding earth, where your eyes wandered out to the men that were working away carrying wounded up to the field hospital. 

“How bad are they today, boys?” You asked on approach, tucking the fast-burning cigarette with no filter between sore chapped lips. Wisps of your hair bellowed around your face in the cool winds. Whipping the scent of strong sulphur into your nostrils. Making them burn more than they did with the smoke. 

“Pretty bad, [y/n].” Said one of the lads guiding men into tents to be seen. What was one to expect? That they had been less torn than others? It seemed no longer hope to see men in one piece. Accustomed to the horrors of the lame, limbless and insane. Every day was another picture printed in your memory saying otherwise. 

Snubbing out the cigarette out with the heel of your boot. You watched as the embers tried to dart outward but were suffocated by the mud. That mud suffocated everything, even yourself… 

Stepping back into the tent, your eyes wandered to the bodies laid out on beds. Nurses and doctors hurrying around making this expendable. Every effort to save a life meant something. Thrown back into the line of rapid work. You didn’t even notice how the tent dulled the sound of everything going on outside.

You were stationed in the bed of another English man. Working on the shot wound in his chest. Removing the piece of metal from him with excellent care. Honestly, it was a wonder what your little hands could do when they stopped shaking and got to work. He was a tunneler by the way he was dressed and how dirt, not mud, clung to his body. “What’s your name, soldier?” You asked in a country accent telling the man you hailed near his birthplace of Birmingham. 

“Thomas, Thomas Shelby.” He commented in a weak voice, it was dry and rough. Like a voice after having a few too many cigarettes or held up in a state of grief. You knew there was certainly enough of them both here. “What’s yours?” He asked as you began to clean the wound that had been inflicted on the flesh of the man’s physical body.  Moments in these, people would normally say a prayer muttering that his spiritual form won’t be maimed and infection wouldn’t take root and rot his soul. However, spiritually be damned in your eyes.

It had caused too much pain and hurt to believe in a place like this. Surely the man below you didn’t believe either. It was too hard to believe in them all. All of you were going to meet a grim end or be taken prisoner, that’s what you thought. A lot of little boys playing soldier and big boy heroes were going to be left broken and shaken. A scar on the generation and age of which you come from. Likewise. You’d go home broken if you did at all. 

Lulled back into the context of the conversation, but the man’s dry smoker’s cough. You looked into his crystal blue eyes and then spoke. “Miss [y/n], a pleasure to meet you, Mister Shelby.” You did speak honestly, it was always nice to meet the soldiers, just a pity in what manner of meeting them. The pains they must suffer to be bought into the off-white field hospital tent. Carefully, slipping a tablet under the man’s tongue. “That’s for the pain, we’ll have you patched up in a jiffy, I promise.” You told him calmly. He only weakly gave a nod then grunted in pain. 

Delicate fingers and tools finally released the bullet, tossing it onto a tray. Then working quickly on the mend. Cleaning thoroughly, and stitching the wound. Pressing the area to stop the final bleed. You left him to rest for a time before they sent the officer away in need to the bed again. No one seemed to have the luxury of resting too long in a war. Instead, you made your mind up to watch over the man and make sure that the wound was healing. 

Often climbing down the deep pits of the tunnels, you met with a lot of the men down there. Checking on their wounds and health. Doing the assessment in rare sparing time. It made a bond grow between you and the Birmingham man known as Tommy or Tom by friends. He gave you a pet name too. It was sweet and made you feel somewhat more alive in the fuss and pain. Seeing the tunnelers began to be something you itched for every day. A breakaway from the noise-cancelling tent or the sulphur thick air above ground. To be hidden down in the humid tunnels underground. Talking with men, making sure all was well. 

At war’s end, you stood with many young women and men. Watching as the last of the bullets were fired. Shells rattling the earth. It happened to be some time since you’d seen the likes of Thomas Shelby. All the tunneler boys in truth. Shelby left a soft place in the final piece of softness in your heart though. He held the merit and dreams of most men that had been fighting in the beginning. However, France had killed the boy within him with made your soul mourn for the boy-child spirit that would be left in the bloody mud of the Western Front. 

--- 

Goodbyes of that day still remain even over a year on from war’s end. Some paranoid people believe another war is to come from this one. Of course, you hope not. Yet, the state of the tied up affairs in the war wasn’t neat and tidy. Germany did suffer harsher conditions than most. Mostly due to the prejudice caused by the cousin nation, losses made people angry and craving blood. The blood you still spent long wholes mopping up and cleaning as a stationed nurse in a London hospital. 

Preparing however for the new transfer to Small Heath, Birmingham a place that you’d long forgotten. But not that man that still weighed heavy on your heart. Come Saturday evening, the train into Birmingham wasn’t packed, nor quiet. It had been situated that there would be a small townhouse that you’d be staying at with other registered nurses in the area. The unmarried ones, at least. Holding your bags you walked to the address, shown to a room by one of the lovely ladies you were living with. All present had proposed a night at the Garrison for drinks in celebration of your arrival. 

The jolly frolic in the evening didn’t seem at all a bad idea. More so, refreshing. You hadn’t taken many chances to enjoy yourself anymore after the war. So, this would be an ample opportunity. So, all dolled up and pampered. You strolled down the streets with the ladies gushing and giggling with the Small Heath gossips. Many fans of the bad boys in town, the Peaky Blinders. 

You didn’t remember why this name meant anything. Shaking away the thought, in the time of being merry and joyous. Listening to tales and laughs from the girls. Sipping on your drink, the air alive with cheerful drunkards or the occasional fight that had the girls and yourself pushed up against the bar to get out of the crossfire. Unknown to you who was watching from the private booth door. Struck dead like he’d seen a ghost after all this time. A time when the war left a feeling of wanting to forget in his soul. 

Thomas Shelby swallowed the bile rising in his throat, stepping out of the salvation and privacy of his private booth. With one goal at that moment. To come to you. At wars end, he came searching for you. But never had a name to go off. He remembered the little pet-name he gave you. Nothing else. Well, he remembered your beauty but not your full name. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in dusty ol’ Birmingham, aye?” He asked with a cock of his brow, a rise in his voice. Holding a sure hope. A wilder smile tugged on your cheek. Truer than anything expressed for the entirety of the whole night. Stepping forward daring you touched him, then followed with a sincere searing kiss. That shocked most of you company, patrons and Tommy’s family in the private booth. 

“Off to pick up a man I left down in a dark hole,” you said smoothly. Voice sweeter than the drink on your lips. The smell of tobacco, lilac perfume and drink clung to you.  Tommy looked smart and handsome. Just as you pictured him if you saw him again one day. In the following moments, no one spoke when the pair left the bar, once more in the cool of the night. Walking hand in hand. No desired destination. Just anywhere away from people. Just you and Thomas focking Shelby.

[nautiscarader]

Hair, or rather horn pulling with Rayllum

place your bets, will I finish this in this decade?

()(Ao3)(next>>)

Callum didn’t understand why “mooning” meant what it meant until he started dating Rayla. The two youngsters quite quickly moved from needing two blankets to just one, and the human mage learned that his elven girlfriend was horny in more than one way. Another thing he had to accustom to was that as a Moonshadow elf, her libido was tied to the lunar cycle, and it wasn’t a coincidence that Rayla was felt a bit more frivolous when the Moon was full.

Callum looked back and forth at the giant, shining face of the Moon in the sky and the much closer and much more appetising shining skin of Rayla’s bum, proudly protruding to be at the perfect height for Callum to caress it.

- Enjoyin’ th’ view? - she asked, wiggling her bum, much to the prince’s enjoyment.- Most definitely, my lady. - he replied with curtsey. - But I much prefer the sound, not the sight…

Rayla let out a soft mewl when she felt the touch of his hand on her asscheeks, stroking her alabaster skin. She could feel his hands trembling slightly - after all, they were both new to this, and Callum evidently was still nervous about them wandering on the field of intimacy, even though they have crossed the border several times already. And just like with kissing, she needed to give him a bit of encouragement in form of pressing her behind against his crotch, hoping this will hasten his decision.

But Callum wasn’t the only one trembling. When she felt his cock slide between her cheeks, Rayla’s voice quivered and broke, and the fierce warrior nearly collapsed to the ground from the mere thought of having him inside her. A wish that fortunately was fulfilled a few seconds later. Callum slid inside her with much caution, trying to enjoy the overwhelming warmth and wetness surrounding him, while his girlfriend’s voice proclaimed all the feelings he had in much more vulgar and open, though incoherent manner.

In his position, Callum was able to gain an upper hand, slowing down his moves just to make his girlfriend moan for more. If she could see the smirk on his face, she’d know what to expect, but without that clue, she was on his mercy, at least not until she unabashedly slammed her back against his crotch, ramming herself onto his cock at once.

At the same time, she felt his grip tightening on her waist, and with the first jiggle of her backside, he started his thrusts. The glade around them echoed with Rayla’s wild cry that encouraged the young prince to continue his shallow plunges. And though Rayla thoroughly enjoyed those, there was something she was missing, and as her boyfriend continued his duties, the Moonshadow elf battled herself in her mind whether to vocalise her idea.

And then, he hilted himself inside her brushing a particularly sensitive spot inside her, and in one moment she made the decision. After all, her ancestors probably have cursed her already for mingling with a human, so in for a dinar, in for a dukat.

- Ca-Callum! Grab my horns!- W-What?!

Callum took a second to process her plea, moaned in a breathless, needy voice. She turned her head sharply and repeated it, staring directly into his widened eyes.

- My horns, Callum! Grab'em!

She arched her back, bringing her head closer to him, waiting for her boyfriend to resume his actions. But against her better judgement, his hips ceased buckling against her bum, and she turned around one more.

- Callum, what’s wrong?- It’s… it’s just… - he shied away - Won’t this hu-hurt you?- No, silly. - she smiled - Trust me, it would take a lot to break'em.

She reached and dragged her hand against his naked chest.

- An’ besides… don’t some human girls like when men pull their hair?

Rayla giggled when she saw his face redden, as the sudden realisation about her kinks hit Callum. She gave him one last wink, and when she turned away, she was glad to feel his hands in his hair. A moment of hesitation later, his fingers entwined around her horns, and with a steady push, he dived between her folds again, and as her body was about to reply by swooning forward, she felt the delicious force pulling her gently backwards, and she let out a prolonged, deep wail.

This was what Rayla’s been wanting to feel: though she was usually the one to be on top, the knowledge it was Callum pulling the strings now made her shiver with anticipation. In her blissful stupor, she didn’t expect he’d hilt inside and brush her sensitive spot again, which only made her buckle against him once more. She cried again, and as soon as she felt Callum’s grip loosening, she came quickly to reassure him of her state.

- Noo! Keep it up, Callum! I’m fine!- You-you sure?- I’m more than fine, Callum, I can take it…

Callum grabbed her again and this time, he didn’t wait for her. With his hands on her horns, he pushed himself inside, and as Rayla started working with her hips, he found the rhythm they both have been looking for. With each lunge, the Moonshadow elf was letting a soft mewl or moan, creating the carnal melody that filled the night’s air. And very quickly, the usually timid Callum found a new desire, deep in his soul, to dominate and control her, and his new position gave him more than few options to indulge in this feeling.

Rayla almost protested again when he let go of her left horn, but then wailed when she felt his left hand came in contact with her ass. She didn’t feel pain, but as soon as her voice returned to normal, she told Callum about it, in the only way she was able to think right now.

- Yes! Yes, Callum, please, do it again!- Is that… is that what you want? - he asked, stopping himself from slapping her ass again.- Yes… - she moaned - Please, human, conquer me…

Her cry echoed around them again, and though Callum knew he wasn’t causing her pain, he stopped, going back to using her horns as reins.

- Sorry, love, I guess I have to learn how to do it as well… - he huffed, leaning above her, and sneaking a kiss on her exposed neck.- You dinnea have to say sorry… - she gasped - Just… keep doing what you’re doing!

She was clearly at the edge of her climax, and though some part of Callum wanted to hear her beg him again, he knew better not to inflict her wrath on. He grabbed her horns once more and with a sweat on his brow, resumed his duties, already feeling her pussy tightening around him.

When Rayla came, she dragged him with her, causing the two youngsters to collapse onto each other, feeling their bodies twitch one against the other, while their orgasms seeped through their twitching legs, hips and arms. Despite his mind being overwhelmed by the pleasure, Callum remained conscious enough to ask her of one important question, though she answered with a kiss before he could even formulae it.  

- Yes, I’m fine, Callum. - she wheezed, cupping his face.- I… You know I had to ask, right?- I kno’…

She turned around and cuddled against him, enjoying his warmth, both outside and seeping from inside her onto the blanket underneath them.

- You know, I never… I never thought you’d like to…- What? - Rayla interrupted - Get pulled by the horns?

Callum nodded.

- Well… Maybe not many elves would do ‘at…

She started, shying away from him, and he was about to hasten with some form of apology, when she turned back to him, granting him a wide, giddy smile.

- …but then again, we’re not a very usual couple, are we?

Callum smiled and, having learned his lesson, replied with a kiss.

[nadziejastar]

I'm thoroughly enjoying the LeaIsa discourse, especially Isa possibly having been subject X in perhaps another canon. Isa's symbolism's also seem intentionally feminine in nature. I've head-cannoned that the current subject X in game could have somehow had her heart spirited away into Isa's (mirroring Sora and Kairi's situation, except the heart being far more buried in the depth's of Isa's). An unlikely scenario is that Isa was AFAB as a child and even Lea doesn't know about it or remember.

Lea: The Wounded Healer

Thank you! Yeah, everything about Isa’s symbolism is feminine in nature. And very intentionally so, LOL. He’s the Yin to Lea’s Yang; the Moon to his Sun. I love the whole concept, and I wish it wasn’t so taboo to step outside of gender boxes. The mythology is that Twin Flames separate and go through many lifetimes apart, never meeting in person. Over the reincarnation cycle, the two lovers balance their masculine and feminine sides so that they are both perfectly balanced. And I do think Lea is a very balanced character in that regard. I’m sure Isa was, too. During their final lifetime in the reincarnation cycle, Twin Flames finally reunite and change the world with their divine spiritual love. 

I cannot imagine there’s any other explanation than Isa originally being Subject X. It simply makes way too much sense, and all the pieces fit perfectly. Your head canon is interesting. I prefer that over canon where Isa and Lea are apprentices and had NO connection to the experiments on the darkness of the heart. That just makes no sense at all. They could have had another girl involved without taking away from Lea and Isa’s tragic backstory. Another reason I like Isa being Subject X is that he would need healing, and Lea would need to give him a “birth by sleep”. KH3 kinda forgot about that whole concept. But there’s a lot of evidence that it was supposed to be a HUGE aspect of Lea’s character arc. Would have been a lot more rewarding to see than what he did in canon.

Stuff like this is exactly why Lea and Isa are my favorite characters. I can tell the writers had a hard on for them, too. Nomura really loved Axel, after all. Axel has a weapon called Prometheus which incorporates the Sagittarius symbol, and so do the vast majority of Saïx’s weapons. Moreover, the arrow is mainly prominent in Saïx’s Berserk form, which is where I think his captured heart resides. Now, why is this symbol so important? Because Sagittarius is Chiron, the Wounded Healer! He gave up his immortality for Prometheus, and was rewarded with immortality in the stars!

More About Sagittarius

Yen Sid: “I must warn you again–the road will not be easy.”

Lea: “Fine. Let’s jump right in.”

Ruled by Jupiter, the planet of growth and opportunity, the sign of the Archer is an eternal student, looking for enlightenment through new ideas, people, and places. Sagittarius is on the hunt for the biggest, best experiences life has to offer. They have a positive and outgoing personality that makes them the life of any party. With a love of adventure and all things exotic, the worldly Archer just wants to soak it all in. Sagittarius is driven by a constant need to explore and expand its mind, heart, and awareness to the fullest extent. Fiery and free, Sagittarius knows that the only limits are the ones we create ourselves.

Chiron: The Wounded Healer

Naminé: “And if the hurt is too great for you to bear it alone–well, then you turn to a friend close to your heart.”

Wounded healer is a term created by psychologist Carl Jung. The idea states that an analyst is compelled to treat patients because the analyst himself is “wounded”. For Jung, “it is his own hurt that gives a measure of his power to heal. This, and nothing else, is the meaning of the Greek myth of the wounded physician.”

Chiron was in outstanding pain and anguish; there was no medication that would ease the infliction. The fact was, even the gifted physician Chiron couldn’t heal himself. The next problem was that Chiron was in torment but, immortal. Chiron was not able to obtain freedom from the pain with the onset of death. In such a scenario, Chiron volunteered himself as a replacement for Prometheus, who had been penalized by the gods for giving fire to humankind; His punishment was to be enchained to a giant stone. Day-after-day an aquila descended and polished off his liver, which grew once more as it got dark …only to be consumed by the eagle once again.

So in essence, Chiron forfeited his eternal life so man could have use of fire. Hercules had been appealing to Zeus (Jupiter) for help, and Hercules agreed to supply an appropriate replacement for Prometheus, thereby setting him free. Thus, Chiron replaced Prometheus, gave up eternity, and went to Tartarus (the Underworld) in Prometheus’ stead. Zeus witnessed everything that happened and he knew how deplorable his son Hercules felt. Zeus afforded the dear Centaur a resting place in the heavens, as the constellation Sagittarius the Archer, in recognition of his benevolence and perpetuity.

Chiron and Artemis

Axel: “Why do I always get stuck with the icky jobs?”

Saïx has a weapon called Artemis, after the moon goddess. Artemis has a relationship to Chiron. Centaurs were notorious for being wild, lusty, overly indulgent drinkers and carousers, violent when intoxicated, and generally uncultured delinquents. Chiron, by contrast, was intelligent, civilized and kind, because he was not related directly to the other centaurs due to his parentage. Soon after giving birth to Chiron, his mother abandoned him out of shame and disgust. Chiron, effectively orphaned, was later found by the god Apollo, who decided to take him in as his son.

Apollo taught to him the art of music, lyre, archery, medicine and prophecy. Apollo’s twin sister, Artemis taught him more about archery and hunting. Chiron’s uniquely peaceful character, kindness and intelligence is attributed to Apollo and Artemis. Artemis only loved one man, Orion. She killed him by accident after being tricked into thinking the he was a villain who had attacked one of her priestesses. Orion, whilst swimming to escape a giant scorpion, is killed by Artemis’ arrows after the goddess could only see his distant bobbing head and failed to recognize the hunter. Artemis tried to bring Orion back to life, but was unable. It was Artemis’ regret at the loss of her hunting companion which allowed him to become a constellation and gain immortality amongst the stars.

Sagittarius Mythology also figures in the tale of Orion. One Greek mythology tale tells of how Sagittarius the Archer was directed to shoot down Scorpio the Scorpion, which had been sent off to murder Orion. This story gives the reason why the Archer’s arrow is aimed toward the ‘heart of the scorpion’.

Friendship

Ven: “Already?”

Lea: “I’ll see ya when I see ya. After all, we’re friends now. Get it memorized.”

Ven: “Okay, Lea.”

Sagittarius make excellent friends because of their encouraging, positive nature and their kind heart that will do anything to make sure the friend is happy. They do not expect favors in return; their kindness is selfless. They do not interfere with other people’s plans and they are never possessive or jealous. They treat others the way they want to be treated and live life based on a ‘live and let live’ policy, making them very agreeable. They are excellent conversationalists with a good sense of humor. Sometimes their humor is the raw truth, but these people speak their mind and don’t hold anything back. What they say is what they mean. They do not like mind games; they like straightforwardness and expect it in return.

Axel: “C'mon, let’s get some ice cream.”

Roxas: “Why?”

Axel: “Whaddaya mean, why? Because we’re friends.”

Roxas: “So…friends are people who have ice cream together?”

Axel: “Sort of… That, or laugh at stupid stuff that doesn’t make any sense. Like those kids we just saw–they were friends. C'mon, I’ll show you how it works.”

Sagittarius are known for saying the ‘painful truth’. On the other hand, people know that they can trust what they say because they always say what is real. They never hide anything and are very likable people. The only people that might not get along with them are people that live by a daily agenda with a highly structured, organized life. They are likely to always be running late and miss a date, but this is only because they are so forward thinking that they forget about the present. Tolerance is required. They do not do these things on purpose; this is just who they are. If you understand this and accept this, having a Sagittarius in your life will make the sun shine a lot brighter.

Axel: “Best friends are willing to deal with complications.”

Wise and understanding Sagittarius is connected to the Temperance Tarot card. The gentle process of tempering is about finding a perfect middle state, and combining the best of all things to forge something that is stronger than the sum of its parts. By bringing the power of the philosophical world into their physical world, Sagittarius makes itself a source of ultimate truth and awareness.

Both Sagittarius and the Temperance card are constantly striving for a more enlightened state of being. The angel in the Tarot card here demonstrates this by slowly pouring the liquid from one golden cup into another – a process called “tempering” (a slow process of integration that leads to the perfect middle state). Similarly, Sagittarius accomplishes this by exploring the far reaches of both the physical and philosophical world to expand on or “temper” what is already known. The symbols of Temperance mean the following:

Angel: Interacting with the material world while maintaining a sense of spirituality and higher purpose.

Triangle: Interplay of masculine and feminine or spirituality and materiality.

Cups: The fountain of energy between your opposite tendencies, which is flowing and spontaneous yet also balanced and coherent.

Path: Taking your time through life’s twists and turns; being content in the moment or throughout unexpected obstacles.

Water: Groundedness and refreshment through spiritual thinking.

Mountains: The distant journeys awaiting you that will bring you to spiritual fulfillment.

Sun: The sun, also appearing as the angel’s third eye, represents the merging of personal aims with the universe’s plans for you.

Fire Wings: Muscles and strength necessary to maintain composure and reach a higher being state.

The Angel

Axel: “As long as we remember each other, we’ll never be apart. Got it memorized?”

The Angel’s beautiful, red wings represent blood or life, while the triangle on her dress means spirit – also the elemental symbol for fire. And, similar to adventurous Sagittarius, the angel’s feet are also symbolic of the eternal pilgrimage or spiritual journey. By showing one foot in the water and the other on the shore we are reminded that our greatest wisdom lies in the art of balancing. And lastly, the iris flowers are indicative of the Goddess Iris who provides the link between God and humanity. Like Sagittarius, she travels from one end of the world to another – building upon something that is bigger and brighter than herself.

In a general context, the Temperance Tarot card represents coolness in the face of shifting emotional tides. Temperance is the ability to control one’s temper or temperament. In Thailand there is a concept called “cool heart.” In this phrase, cool does not mean cruel and unemotional. Rather, to act with a “cool heart” means that one is not easily stirred or provoked to go off the handle; one does not quickly come to a raging boil but maintains a steady temperature despite shifting external circumstances. Similarly, Temperance stands with one foot in a cool stream and pours water from one cup into another. Temperance knows how to direct the water in a way that maintains homeostasis.

The 7 of Swords

Lea: “And if the darkness gets ya, I promise I’ll bail you out. “Dark Rescue” is my middle name.”

Axel’s weapon “Prometheus” is Lift Gear. This is the same gear that the Temperance Arcana in Luxord’s deck is listed under. Coincidence? I think not. Luxord’s card has the shape of the Minor Arcana, The 7 of Swords. In general, this card is said to be about betrayal and deception. It is sometimes called the ‘Thief’ card. In a general context, it represents deception, lies, trickery, cheating and lack of conscience. This card also signifies mental manipulation, tactics, scheming, cunning, enemies who masquerade as friends and spies in your camp. It represents escaping detection and getting away with something.

On a more positive note, the 7 of Swords points out that you need to be strategic in what you do. It can also represent flexibility, adaptability, sharp wit, and resourcefulness. You know you cannot do everything at once – nor should you. Instead, you must prioritize what’s important to you and direct your focus and attention on the few tasks that will move you closer to your goals. When this card is seen in a reading, the deception is usually short lived. Nobody is able to carry away 7 swords and get away with it. So although the party may feel smug about it at the time, it’s about to blow up in their face.

Sagittarius’ Ruling Planet: Jupiter

Lea: “I want everybody I meet to remember me. Inside people’s memories, I can live forever.”

Isa: “I know I won’t forget you. Believe me, I try all the time.”

Lea: “See, I’m immortal!”

Larger-than-life Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, the planet of luck and expansion. In Roman mythology, Jupiter was the king of the gods, the biggest and the best. In Astrology Jupiter is known as the “benefic” planet, meaning it is the luckiest, most opportunistic planet of all. This positive energy influences Sagittarius’ optimistic, enlightening, and outgoing nature that shines and spreads through anyone they come into contact with. As the largest planet in our cosmos, Jupiter’s vastness encourages Sagittarius to stretch its mind and heart as far as it can.

Sagittarius’ Symbol: The Archer

Xigbar: “You’re not supposed to be here!”

Lea: “Promises to keep. I’ll always be there to get my friends back. What, bad timing? You had your perfect little script, but you kinda forgot to write the sequel. Now, let’s find out what happens!”

The zodiac sign Sagittarius is associated with the Archer, and its glyph represents an arrow. Always eager to explore new horizons, the Archer sets its sights on a faraway target, then shoots toward it with precision. This focus on learning more, doing more, and seeing more is what Sagittarius is all about.

Ruled by expansive Jupiter, Sagittarius is big-hearted, open, and always looking beyond a checklist. A Sagittarius rarely has a “type.” They are always intrigued by the individual, and don’t make any assumptions about people until they’ve truly met and spoken with them. Sagittarius loves witty back and forth banter. A Sagittarius in love is a sight to behold. Aggressively fun, this sign usually moves full speed ahead once they have their love target ‘locked’.

Selene

Ventus: “I remember dreaming a lot. Of you and Terra. Of Sora and his friends too, I think. And there were some more people I didn’t recognize. Oh, and I saw these weird animal creatures! It’s like…I’ve been part of some big adventure.”

Saïx has a weapon named Selene, after the chaste Greek Moon goddess. It’s shaped like a torch. Selene’s torch has an interesting role in art and history. Selene was taken with Endymion, a beautiful youth who tended his flocks on Mount Latmos. She accompanied Cupid and used the light of the torch to gaze upon the mortal she fell in love with while he slept.  

Girodet’s “The Sleep of Endymion” shows the moment that Cupid parts the trees so the Moon may shine her light down upon her sleeping lover’s face. Only at night when he is asleep does she quietly creep down to him, accompanied by Cupid, whose torch symbolizes burning love.

In a Roman floor mosaic from the third century CE, the scene focuses on the moment when Selene falls in love with the young mortal shepherd. Cupid, in the upper right corner, points down at Endymion as if guiding Selene’s gaze towards him. Selene steps out of her bull-drawn biga that she uses to pull the moon across the sky each night, and raises a lit torch that illuminates Endymion’s face in the darkness. She peers down at him longingly. Endymion is fast asleep and unaware of her presence. She was so in love that she asked Zeus to give Endymion immortal life.

Sagittarius’ Ruling House: 9th House of Expansion

Roxas: “I found out about love on today’s mission–that it’s something powerful.”

Axel: “That’s true. It is. But I’ll never get to experience it.”

As the 9th sign in the zodiac, Sagittarius rules over the 9th House of Expansion. This house reveals how open our minds are, and how much we expand ourselves through education, exploration, and life lessons. From philosophical conversations to book research to world travel, the 9th house encourages you to go further than you’ve ever gone before. Sagittarius’ drive for adventure, growth, and awareness is strongly represented here.

When Venus is in Sagittarius

Axel: “Love is what happens if there’s something really special between two people.”

Saïx’s weapon Horoscope incorporates the Venus and Sagittarius symbols while in its Berserk form. So, the astrological correspondence is Venus in Sagittarius. Venus is the planet of love, self-worth, and all things beautiful. Her style is sweet, cooperative, and peaceful. But when this graceful planet’s energy mixes with the free-spirited sign of Sagittarius, her joyful side comes out to play. Hearts come out of hiding while Venus moves through Sagittarius. The happy and free energy of Sagittarius turns Venus up a few notches, encouraging us to live life to the fullest. This is a time to socialize, to try new things, and to look for love in different places.

Sagittarius is the sign of the adventurer, so when Venus is traveling through this sign, we find ourselves drawn to exotic people, places, and experiences. Old routines and worn-out relationships are at risk of being traded in for something bigger, brighter, and better while Venus is in Sagittarius. We want to expand beyond our usual boundaries, and may give up some of our comfortable patterns of the past to try out new experiences. Love needs to grow during this transit – it will not stand still.

Sagittarius’ Element: Fire

No. VIII AXEL—An assassin who puts his own agenda first, and everything else on the back burner. Wields fire.

The zodiac sign Sagittarius is a Fire sign that lights up our lives with profound questions and exciting ideas. Just like an uncontrollable wildfire, this sign will happily go where the wind takes them to seek new experiences. Sagittarius uses its Fire energy on its lifelong journey of exploration, always ready to jump at the next adventure. The element of Fire continues to fuel Sagittarius’ never ending supply of optimism and inspiration.

The Goddess Hestia: The Keeper of the Flame

Axel: “Well, I think you can be inseparable, even if you’re apart. It’s like, if you feel really close to each other. Like best friends.”

Saïx’s weapons Moonrise and Moonset are shaped like ⚶ the astrological symbol for the asteroid Vesta, also known as Hestia in Greek mythology. Her name means “the essence”, the true nature of things. Hestia was the Greek Goddess of the sacred fire. She was the most influential and widely revered of the goddesses. She was was one of the three ‘virgin’ goddesses, next to Athena and Artemis. Hestia was depicted as a beautiful and bashful woman, usually seated. The living flame of Hestia was tended constantly and never allowed to die out, for it represented the energy of all life.

Hestia was a kind goddess and had a discrete character. She never left her residence, the sacred mountain of Olympus. She never involved herself in the fights and machinations of the other gods and goddesses, somehow managing to stay above the fray. Non-judgmental and forgiving, her unconditional love and calm acceptance inspired the love and trust of others in return. Dependable and caring, she was always there for them and helped them to manage their lives, which were certainly more exciting than her own. These virtues define the goddess Hestia: mild, gentle, forgiving, peaceful, serene, dignified, calm, secure, stable, welcoming, and, above all else, well-centered.

Sagittarius’ Color: Purple

Axel: “You know, I’ve been thinking about something Naminé said. Roxas…are you really sure that you don’t have a heart? Is it possible that we all have one? You, me, her… Or is that just wishful thinking?”

Rich and luscious purple is the color of Sagittarius. Purple is a color of abundance, which encourages Sagittarius’ natural luck and its drive to expand its mind and world. The color purple is also associated with spirituality and enlightenment, empowering Sagittarius’ philosophical explorations and lifelong quest for knowledge.

The Sun

Axel: “Hey, Roxas. Bet you don’t know why the sun sets red. You see, light is made up of lots of colors. And out of all those colors, red is the one that travels the farthest.”

Roxas: “Like I asked! Know-it-all.”

Saïx’s weapons Orbit and Lunar Phase incorporate the Sagittarius symbol with the combined stars of Ishtar and Shamash. There’s also a Recusant’s sigil visible over the Sun symbol. The Sun, the giver of life, represents our conscious mind in astrology. It represents our will to live and our creative life force. Just as the planets revolve around the Sun in our solar system, we derive our life purpose from the Sun in our natal charts. The Sun is our ego. It is the part of us that reasons things out, and makes final decisions. The Sun is our basic identity, and represents self-realization. The Sun also represents our overall vitality. The happiest people on this earth are those who identify with the Sun’s expression.

Sagittarius’ Quality: Mutable

Axel: “Let’s meet again in the next life.”

Roxas: “Yeah. I’ll be waiting.”

As the last sign of autumn, Sagittarius helps us celebrate one last hoorah as fall comes to a close and the season of hibernation begins. Sagittarius, with a love for variety and change, uses its Mutable energy to shake the fiery radiance off the leaves and allow them to fall. As winter approaches, this Fire sign keeps us going by fueling our desire for adventure and fun, and helps us remain optimistic that light and warmth will return again.

[midnitefruit]

something new - May 23,2020

hello world! am trying to clean up my life and get some answers in areas i’m uncertain of. thought I would finally share some of my thoughts and ramblings so I can look back later and see some of those thoughts categorized here.  TW; i’m just venting and bitching a lot about life. 

@me If you don’t bother asking or finding answers to the questions you need in order to live your life best - who can you really blame? It takes energy and it definitely isn’t easy, but if you want better of yourself - do better.  disclaimer, @anyone who I have hurt from my ignorant and numb ways, I am sorry for my carelessness. I am trying to do better and I finally feel comfortable in my identity. Thank you to those who have been patient and are still with me. Anyways. 

Today I googled “what are your responsibilities as an adult” and wanted to share them for anyone else who has had a rough idea and may be curious, but has never thought to actually search this themselves. Psychology Today bucketed these 6 useful headings below

Rationality

Formulating and Implementing goals 

Equality in Relationships

Active versus Passive

Non-defensiveness and Openness

Personal power

The excerpts below are for me to reflect back onto. If you’re interested hearing my words scroll to the very bottom. 

“As an adult, own your life and destiny. If you remain a child in your adult life, you look at the world around you as dominating, controlling, and dangerous. That’s a miserable life.” The major deterrent to living an adult existence lies in the fear of growing up. This includes the fear of breaking imagined connections with parents, being alone, standing out as an individual, having a strong point of view, recognizing one’s value and confronting the inevitability of death, the ultimate separation from self. To live like a child in an adult world is itself a defense against death anxiety. In one story, a woman revealed how, in an attempt to preserve the illusory connection to her parents, she recreated her father in her husband and her mother in close female friends. She went on to describe why she held on to her identity of being “the bad child” for so many years. To hang on to this old identity with all my might, for many years, was so compelling … why? All I can answer to this is remaining a child, although miserable, is farther away from the agony of aging and death. So the compelling draw is hard to let go of. Of course, I still have my moments of childish reactions, but I’m learning to catch them, notice the almost physical feeling that comes on, and stop it before I engage. I will make mistakes, but I plan to forge forward as an adult, and search instead for equality. Nonetheless, this leaves me very alone. And the aloneness leaves me anxious, and sad … but it’s real. And life as an equal, although painful, is fuller. And I’m ready for the challenge. In summary, living in the child mode is largely chaotic and dysfunctional, whereas living one’s life as an adult is generally more adaptive and successful. Retaining a child’s frame of reference has numerous disadvantages: For example, people who operate from this perspective often find it difficult to formulate their goals and priorities in life and tend to feel helpless and victimized. They blame others for the problems they encounter rather than taking responsibility for how people react to them. In reality, people largely determine the course of their lives and determine the way that others respond. Lastly, reacting to life in a childlike manner can be quite emotional but often lacks a depth of genuine feeling. MAY 21, 2020 - MONTREAL  I haven’t prioritized the time to put into words how I’ve felt since I transformed my internal and external presenting identity, career, physical home, support system, and self-acceptance. Wow. Mouthful- huh? No wonder it always felt too big to tackle. I feel more alive in the last year than the last five years of coasting in university. I thought that was just how it goes. You have structure, you have a certain assumed end vision, perhaps it was lazy to not think bigger but when you are processing so many new opportunities, fear of failure and being kicked out, and stimuli - its a fucking lot.  Thursday, May 21 felt like a turning page. It’s summer in Montreal and finally inching closer to my 1 year anniversary here. I moved right after Toronto Pride because a close friend got us the opportunity to walk with her company. Hot take, marching with a corporate company at Pride where you have to be semi-conscious of how you are presenting your identity is not the most pride-esque thing. If you’re confused, imagine being high or any form of intoxicated around your manager. Not sure this flies with every manager and its understandable. I think the neighbours are fucking again. Or they are literally hammering. Who knows.  Back to me, why am I googling adult responsibilities? I feel like i’ve been in child mode the entire last year. The psychology today piece actually really helps summarize a lot of my instability and confusion. Let me explain before you judge. I had an adult mode saved, I did. I had an adult mode saved with 5 years of leadership opportunities from a university I thoroughly enjoyed my experience at. I have zero regrets with my university experience, I really do. I sought out all the things I wanted to try but the one thing always creeping at the back of my mind was hating myself. I thought that was just 2008 news, who cares. I let it stay numbingly in the background and focused on any external stimuli. I never thought to question my gender, or presenting identity because I never thought I resonated with the queer/non-binary/trans/any kind of queer people I saw represented (which was the extremely limited characters on glee). This was never talked about in a Chinese Canadian household. If anything, the more i reflect on my childhood the more I am able to objectively see the surroundings I had are not "normal;”. They just are. They are one timeline, one version, one culture, one kind. The fact I was surrounded by people smaller than me (literally physically observation of weight) were just life decisions. Wasn’t intentional and it really in fact fucked me up with weight insecurities. BUT the great news is that these were just life decisions. Not right or wrong, I am pivoting now and trying my best to balance a new big kid job, create a new support system, work on my family relationships to forgive and let go of years of inflicted trauma, and breathe. (David told me recently my future me will thank myself for sorting myself out now so I can enjoy the rest of my life. I hope so).  I am working back on myself and trying to relearn which parts of me and my personality I loved without the self-hatred I anchored so much to my physical identity. Another friend recently shared a piece on displaced anger. I think that really helps summarize this displaced hatred I have been struggling with for so long. Fuck shame and certain messaging we are bombarded with by media for instilling this at such an early age. Heartbreaking. 

I haven’t shared this with anyone but I think to this day my sister’s unconscious mistakes of ignoring me and not supporting me when I needed her most have fucked me up the most in adulthood. I struggle communicating with my deeper relationships because this was never encouraged when I was younger. Coming out and wanting to talk about girls was never met with excitement or enthusiasm. I don’t care if you didn’t know how to talk about it with me, was I expecting too much to see some degree of interest or care? 

I can’t separate how much of me needs to validate this explanation and the part of me that needs to just grow up and get over it. Maybe its a combination of both. I’m a pisces that was surrounded by 3 capricorns, can we give me a break? 

I’m getting irritated and impatient with myself as i write this. I feel like there is just so much shit it pains me and I don’t know how to share. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I pushed people away so I could sort myself out without any other overwhelming variables or complications. Now so much has happened, who has the time or patience to hear this? I’m tired. This is the third official city i’ve made a home out of and its been the hardest one yet. I think i am also realizing I made most of my friends out of people that don’t initiate or invest similar amounts of energy into me as I do into them. I never held it against them, but growing up is just internalizing and understanding you really don’t have unlimited time. I should let some simply fizzle out. Bleh. Anyways, relearning how to be me that isn’t positive and bubbly all the time. This is 100% me overcompensating for my high-functioning depression that used to leave me feeling numb or indifferent. I don’t know how to reconcile the two huge pendulum swings of emotion. I don’t want to be stepped all over and I want to be assertive without fearing its bossy. I want to be me and I need to give myself some time to explore that.  

Apparently in Denmark, the friends they grow up with are the friends they stick with for pretty much life. Didn’t know it is very North American to have friends in university and separate friend groups from other areas of your life. Beginning to think this is too exhausting, I’d like to simplify this!!!!!!!!!!! 

Final thing. I think a large part of my struggles come from not being honest or vulnerable with my new family about the shit I endure because i’m so used to dealing with it solo. Thus, they only really hear the highs and wins. This makes it really tough on me sharing when asian culture includes ‘saving face’ and suppressing emotion to be private. The environments I put myself in simply accomodate this outdated preference. Anyways, thank you Tumblr for being a space for me to release all of this out. No wonder I have terrible headaches, who the fuck wants to deal with thisss. 

[ozmontague-blog]

a belated birthday surprise

Parties: Rosemund Reed and Oz Montague

Location: Rosemund’s apartment

Summary: A backdated para from early June with some cuteness between these two babies before it all went terribly wrong.

@rosemund-reed

Oz:

The Dominant had the town car pull up in front of her admittedly rather humble residence. Cute though. Far better than anything he had to rent in his younger years admittedly. He looked at his phone again, surprised again by her flirty message. The shy kitten had shown she could have claws. He was intrigued to see what would happen tonight and looked forward to a little more time with the beautiful woman.

Rose:

No matter how many times she tidied her apartment, there still remained some object that had a spec of dust or needed to be moved slightly to the left. After being in the Dominant’s home, her small, cramped, and barely furnished room must look utterly pathetic. Still she was proud of the small birthday banner that she managed to get from the store as well as the cake in the middle with the unlit candles. Although she had no idea how old Oz was, seven felt like the right number. It was after all supposed to be lucky. Seeing his car pull up from her window, Rose opened the door for him, attempting to strike the most alluring pose that she could. 

Oz:

Oz stepped out of his vehicle, withdrawing a bottle of wickedly expensive wine and a bouquet of cheerful flowers acquired at the pretty little flower shop he had found earlier that day. He walked through the small residence to find the girl waiting for him and putting on a bit of a show as she did so. Setting down the bottle and flowers, he reached out a hand, tugging her out of the pose and plying her lips with a long, slow kiss. “Thank you for the warm welcome Rose but what …” He gestured to the banner, “Is all this?”

Rose:

 “Please come in.” She stepped aside, letting him into her home. Although there wasn’t much, she had tried to make the place look slightly festive with a few balloons and one of those cheap plastic, tablecloths that she hoped read happy birthday to put on the table with the cake. Rose shifted self-consciously, starting to doubt her supposed bright idea. “A belated birthday?” She bit her lip. Although the brunette was certain that being dominated by Oz would be more of a gift for her, she had tried. 

Oz: 

It was simple and despite himself, he was charmed. Absolutely charmed. “And does that make you my birthday gift, Rosemund?” He settled a hand on her hip and pulled her in close. His free hand pushed through her soft dark hair, dancing over the line of her jaw as her earrings sparkled in the light. “Lucky me.” He teased before capturing her lips in a slow kiss, designed to make her melt into his arms.

Rose:

Rose grinned, feeling slightly less worried that she had made a mistake. “But I’m not wearing a bow.” She knew that part of the rules demanded that she wear something pretty and skimpy under anything she wore in case the mood struck her Dom. She blushed, realizing that she had come to think of Oz as her Dom. She knew that he could be with dozens of other, but even the briefest bit of attention had her craving more. She chuckled, shaking her hair free. “I’m the lucky one.” She stood on her toes to return his kiss. “So cake or spankings first? I want this day to be all about you.” 

Oz: 

“Hmmm … let’s see.” He tipped his head to the side, looking around the petite submissive to tug up the skirt of her dress. “What’s this? Practically perfect again. How am I supposed to enjoy my cake if your bottom looks like that?” He teased, laughing softly. Oz brushed another slow kiss over his lips before breaking it off to look down at Rose. Dusting a finger down one high cheekbone, he nodded toward the couch. “Come…. You know I like your face better when there are tears in those gorgeous eyes.”

Rose:

Grinning, Rose teasingly pushed his hand away. “It’s called having your cake and eating it too, sir.” He could have ordered her to strip and lay across the table next to the cake, and she would do so without even a thought. She closed her eyes, breathing shallowly as he took such gentle care of her. He might like hurting her, but the combination of the pain and pleasure always had her ruining her panties with just a few words of his. She nodded, taking his hand to practically drag him across the couch. “Does this mean I get to find out how old you are?” 

Oz: 

Oz followed the girl to the couch. It wasn’t exactly a great distance in her small apartment. He took a seat on the low sofa. Patting his lap, he nodded at the girl. “Up and over young lady. It appears I must be very strict with you. Naughty English girls…. What is an old man like me to do?” he laughed out as he slowly adjusted her position on his lap, putting her hands together at the hollow of her back. Using his tie, he bound her small hands together. “There … that’s better, now … let’s take a look at that bottom.” Hooking his fingers under the hem of her skirt, he pulled it up slowly and tucked the fabric under bound hands. Smoothing his hand up and down each thigh to the crest of her ass, he noted the silky texture. Unmarked even. “Before I begin, remind me of your safeword, Rose.”

Rose: 

The sight of Oz on her small couch made the Dom look all the larger and more intimidating. Perhaps she had been playing a dangerous game taking a man like this into her bed, but never before had Rose felt so wanted and so hot. She craved his touch, his words, his orders. If it were possible, she would do everything within her power just to please him. “Old, sir?” She lifted a brow, looking at him for only a moment before placing herself across his lap. She wiggled her bottom, knowing that it was one of her favorite parts of her. While the bruises on her bottom healed from last time, there was still a mark or two left from Oz’s hand that served to remind Rose about being good. She couldn’t even think of going to another when Oz had marked her so thoroughly. She bit her lip, shifting a bit on his lap as she felt the breeze when he lifted her skirt, wondering if going without panties had been a bad idea. She gulped nervously. There was nothing to be done about it now. Her hands were bound and she was completely at his mercy. “It’s red, Dominus. And yellow if I need you to slow down.” 

Oz:

“Positively ancient.” He teased in response as his hand continued to glide over her pale skin. “Good girl. And if you can’t speak, knock or tap me twice and I will stop to check in.” He reminded carefully before lifting his hand and applying a harsh spank to her rather perfect little bottom. He toyed with her, watching that subtle bounce that really only happened when you were young and everything was so damned firm. Without preamble he slipped one finger into her core and tested her. “Not nearly wet enough. Obviously you need more, don’t you, little Rose?”

Rose:

She snorted at that. In her mind, he couldn’t have been more than forty. Certainly Oz was older than her, but that didn’t mean a thing to her aside from the fact that he had more practice in what they were doing. She would never let a younger Dom inflict pain in such a way. With Oz, she trusted that he would push her limits without doing any lasting damage. Even though she had yet to use her safe words, she was certain that he would stop immediately should the need arise. She let out a slight squeak when his hand connected with her ass. She did love the way that he warmed her up. “Yes please. I need so much more. Please sir.” 

Oz: 

“I know, dear Rose. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” He taunted, low and husky. He spanked her firm bottom again and again, plying the skin with wicked strikes over her ass and down her thighs. He made sure to add several extra to that spot on the low curve, the one that would make sitting ache for several days. “Hmmmm … there you go. Warm enough for cake. I’ll give you a proper session after we eat. Wouldn’t you like that, kitten?”

Rose:

Rose nodded. She knew that he would leave her utterly satisfied. The marks he left on her made her remember the moments of pleasure that they shared along with the pain that felt so right. She started rocking in his lap, pushing herself towards his hand when she expected each slap. “Thank you, Dominus for taking the time to correct me.” She was certain that her skin was flushed a lovely shade of pink. She looked up at him with watery eyes, half focused. She normally was one to behave for him, but at the mention of cake, she whined a bit. “Now?” She had been so proud of what she made him, but she desired more than sitting by his feet while he ate. 

Oz: 

Oz chuckled at her little whine. “Yes. But don’t worry. I have a fun little game for you to play while I enjoy that delicious treat.” He gave her ass a firm slap and then sat back. “Take off the dress and go on to get me a slice.” He instructed firmly before reaching for the small carry sack that he had brought with him. The remote controlled toy was thick, only a fraction smaller than Oz’s cock. He liked to fill a girl up, make sure she felt it all the way through. “We’ve teased about this enough. I thought an at-home trial was a good idea before we went out … wouldn’t you agree, Rose?”

Rose:

She couldn’t think what Oz possible could have in mind for her to do while he ate the cake. Most of the toys were safely in Oz’s playroom as Rosemund usually came to him. She hissed at the last firm slap, gingerly getting off of the table to stand. Peeling the dress over her head, Rose made certain that Oz would have a clear view of his handy work as she walked towards the kitchen. She made a show of bending over to search the various drawers and cabinets knowing full well where everything was. “An at home trial?” She looked over, pulling out a white dish and fork. “You mean of the?” She blushed, swallowing thickly as she placed the slice of cake on the dish. “But shouldn’t I get warmed up before we move on to that?” She wasn’t even sure that it would fit.

Oz: 

Oz was enjoying the pleasant sight of her little red bottom as she walked around the small place. He could practically reach out and touch her. “Oh, I think you’re warm enough.” he teased with a warm chuckle at her bright blush. “Bring me my treat, Rose. Then I want you to come here and stand in front of me. We’re going to play a game tonight. How many times can a naughtly little English girl cum?”

Rose: 

She whimpered thinking of all that they could do together. Last time she had left his penthouse in tears but more satisfied than she ever had been. “But…” She bit her lip, realizing that if she were to argue with him, she would only end up over his lap. Oz would drive her to the edge, but he respected her limits. She’d have time to adjust to the size of any toy that he brought. She nodded, handing him the cake. “But don’t you want to enjoy your cake first?” She shifted nervously. Even though she would love to cum, she wanted to see what he thought of the cake first. She had after all worked hard to get it perfect.

Oz: 

Oz was amused by her reply. “Come … sit on my knee and we can enjoy this pretty cake together.” He instructed quietly. She was adorable and he particularly liked the whimper. He’d have to work on getting more of that from her. He wrapped his hand around her narrow waist while he reached for the cake with the other. “Did you make this yourself?”

Rose:

“Yes, Dominus.” Her face lit up with a smile at the invitation. She’d momentarily forgotten her sore bottom as she sat on Oz’s lap, almost hopping up again with a hiss. It stung but not enough for her to complain with more than a whimper. She leaned against him, trying her best to keep the pressure off the bottom. “I did, although I had help.”

Oz:

“There’s a good girl.” He murmured as his hand settled at her hip, half cradling the girl against his chest. “Well aren’t you clever.” he continued as he took a bite. “Hmmm… that’s very good. Have you tried it yet?” he asked before taking another bite himself. Then he held a forkful up for her to taste. “Try your handiwork.” Oz instructed softly as his hand slid down from her hip to her core. The teasing soon followed, accompanying them as he polished off the rather delicious slice of cake.

Rose:

She sighed, glad that she had made him proud. With the help of his arm around her, she didn’t feel the full sting of her weight. It was more a pleasant reminder of his desire to spank her. “I haven’t. I trusted that Cressida knew what she was doing.” The woman was a baker after all. She had to know. She blushed a bit, opening her mouth for him to feed her a bit of the cake. She moaned as she tasted the sweetness of the cake accompanied by his fingers teasing her core.

Oz:

The name struck him as familiar and he blinked for a second before mentally shrugging and carrying on with his consumption of that particularly delicious cake. It really was quite good. He fed her small bites of cake as he ate himself. His fingertips danced over her sex, making sure she would be wet enough for his little game. Sometimes kisses followed bites of cake. “Thank you for my birthday cake, Rosepetal.”

Rose:

Rose licked the fork, trying to make a show out of eating the cake. She squirmed as his fingers danced around her folds, teasing her to the point of near desperation. Since she had first been with Oz, there was little time when she didn’t desire more of him. “I am just sorry that it was late, sir.” She had planned something far nicer for his actual birthday, but those plans failed spectacularly when the cake had burned, leaving her apartment smelling like smoke. At least the odor had finally cleared. She only hoped that Lord Montague had a happy birthday with whomever he might have spent the day with.

Oz: 

“I think you have made up for it enough, dear girl.” He murmured as he set down the now empty plate. Turning Rose’s slim body so her back was pressed to his chest, he pushed two fingers into her core. “Hmmm … nice and wet for me. Such a good girl you are.” He praised as he reached for the vibrator. “This one has a very fun remote control. We’re going to try it out here and then sometime soon, I am going to take you out. A movie. The theatre perhaps. And I am going to tell you to be very good and very quiet as I play with the remote in my pocket. Won’t that be fun?” he taunted as he removed his fingers and pressed the toy into the girl’s slick pussy.

Rose:

Whimpering, Rose arched towards him. His fingers always filled her so well, but his cock was what she craved. She wished that they were both wearing less so that she could feel his skin against her own, yet the material rubbed against her, teasing her in a way that made her groan. “Just for you, Dominus.” She looked at the vibrator, nodding her head. “Fun?” She did wonder what that meant. She knew that certain toys had extra features, but she didn’t know what the one he gave her could do. “Maybe a movie first?” She liked the idea of wearing it everywhere that he could tease her, but after being an actress herself, she knew that it would be rude to those in the performance. Then again Lord Oz had a private box. Would anyone truly be able to see? “It will be very fun.” She spread her legs, giving him full access to her. 

Oz:

Rose’s willingness to play games with him only endeared her further to the older Dominant. She was pliant but not weak. Funny without cruelty or rudeness. He was glad to have met her. She had restored something within him, some sense that he couldn’t be that bad to have drawn her to him. He pressed the toy into her sex and let her get used to the feeling of fullness, the weight within her core. “There you go. Such a good girl.” He brushed a hand over her cheek, tipping her head back so he could kiss her as his other hand opened the app on his phone and began to toy with the girl’s pussy.

Rose:

As much as Oz liked to call himself a bad man, Rosemund assumed that it was a kink of his rather than a truth. He had never pushed her further than she agreed to go. The bruises hurt at the time, but they also reminded her of the way that he had gently run his hands over her skin after he was through with her. The way that he insured that she was alright and would continue to be so when he left. She groaned. “Give me a second please.” She took a deep breath. As wet as she was, it was still a tight fit. With a nod, she gave him permission to push a little bit further. “Thank you, sir.” She laid her head against his shoulder, timidly licking his lips to beg for entrance. The toys were fun, but the kisses were what she loved most.

Oz: 

He liked her pliant weight in his arms, the warmth of her. She was slight enough that he could hold her, control her, and even carry her with ease. He chuckled at the little lick. “You are welcome, Rose.” He murmured quietly before kissing her, a real kiss this time, intense enough to sear the girl’s soul just as his finger tapped on the remote, turning it on within her. He broke off his kiss and watched her face as he rolled through several settings, just to see her reaction. “Tell me Rose … who do you belong to?”

Rose:

She always felt so small in his arm as if he moved her the wrong way, he would break her completely. It made her feel so safe that he hadn’t done so. She had given herself to him completely and trusted that he would never harm. She moaned, eyes falling closed as he kissed her. This was the kiss that she had always craved and never gotten. This was the one where she felt like someone in the world actually cared about her. This made her feel less like a burden and more like someone truly wanted her. Yet the moment was broken by Oz turning on the toy. “Fuck!” Her voice was horse as she attempted to get used to the sensation only for the lord to switch it. “You, sir. I belong to my Dominus. Lord Oz Montague.” 

Oz: 

“That’s right … I may share you but this … this will always belong to me.” Oz affirmed with a growl more possessive than he intended. He used the remote to torment her, not letting her settle into any sensation for any length of time. His mouth sought out hers again and again, kissing her deeply as he did so. Then just as suddenly, he turned it off completely, stilling the toy in her core, but he made no move to take it out. Instead he kissed her again and brushed the tip of his nose over hers before settling back against the couch. “Settle my rosepetal.” He murmured almost gently, turning her so she was cradled against his chest, both legs to one side. “I like knowing you are this full. When I leave, I’m going to leave it here. I want you to practice with it. Get used to the feeling of it in you. All right?” he murmured as he brushed back dark strands of hair from her pink cheeks. “Such a good girl.” he praised again.

Rose:

“Rose had agreed to be shared with others. She was interested if being in a threesome was as good as it looked to be in certain videos that her curiosity lead her to. Still she had wanted to be with just her Dom. He was everything that she dreamed of in a dominant, even if she knew that he would never be just hers. She’d long made her peace with people who didn’t want to claim her as their own. But with Oz, she had everything that she could want. He treated her well, pushed her, bettered her. Her hands gripped his shoulders as her hips moved against his own. She needed more. Just one touch and she would be coming apart. Her hands moved towards her breasts, searching his face for approval that she could at least touch herself. She pressed her lips eagerly against his, hungry for a single ounce of his affections. Then it all stopped. She couldn’t help the tears of frustration in her eyes. She buried her face into his chest, no doubt soaking his shirt with her tears. “I was so close.” Her voice was soft as she hiccupped the words out. She was full. Even without the toy doing anything, she could feel her walls clenching against it. “Yes, sir.” She wrapped her arms around him. “But what if it falls out?” 

Oz: 

“I know but it was far too soon for the reward of an orgasm. Besides, you know I like my cock in you when you come. Your mouth, your pussy or soon, your sweet bottom will all be trained to take it as often as I wish. You are such a good girl, you know you need it that way too, don’t you? To only cum when I say, when you are full of me.” Oz soothed gently, adoring her tear streaked face pressed into his shirt. She seemed so young and sweet for just a second. “If it falls out, I’ll buy you a bigger one.” he taunted and then laughed. “Now take off the rest of your clothes and then snuggle back in.” Oz instructed firmly. She had probably figured out what was missing. He loved to play with her breasts and he certainly wasn’t about to let her cum until he had at least played with them.

Rose:

“I can have more than one.” She pouted, knowing that she was not going to get what she wanted. Was it truly too much to ask that she get one from the vibrator than one from him or more. “Your cock is my favorite.” She had been eager to take him in all her holes, to please him, to make him mark her in all ways. “I thought that you liked seeing me cum apart as your doing.” As far as Rose knew, his toys were an extension of his control over her. She thought that giving him control is what she craved. “A bigger one?” She didn’t know that they even came bigger. This one filled her up so completely. Nodding she gingerly climbed off of her lap, hissing as the vibrator jostled inside of her. She was slower to undress than normal, taking care when she bent over to pull her skirt off of the ground. She climbed back into his lap, careful not to put any pressure on her bottom. 

Oz: 

“I know my rosepetal but I haven’t even put my cock in you yet. Look at me. I haven’t even felt your sweet mouth on me yet. Such neglect cannot continue.” Oz teased as he helped the girl to her feet.  Watching her undress was pleasure. Petite yes but curves enough to know she was a woman fully grown and able to take a lover as she wished. He gathered her in his arms, one hand curving over her tender bottom, patting it gently. “You make me very happy Rose. Thank you.” He whispered before bending low enough to draw one nipple between his lips, sucking on the pert nipple.

Rose:

“Yes, sir.” Her voice shook as she attempted to regain her breath. She knew that he was right, but she didn’t think that one orgasm would have depleted her fully. She was young still and able to quickly recover, yet Oz kept her from having what she most wanted at the moment. She whimpered in his arms, shifting a bit to attempt to get his hand away from her tender parts, yet that is exactly where he placed it. “Thank you, Oz.” She nuzzled her face into his chest. Normally she would never use his name, but at the moment she wanted nothing more than to feel loved. She cursed under her breath when she felt his mouth on her.