#no money no future no boutique

[starlooove]

This bitch pisses me off omg

[pawnshopbleus]

The Morning After

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader

Summary - After the events of On Top, Tigris has a talk with ​Coriolanus.

Warnings - mentions of sex, fluff, not beta read

Author's Note - This is going to be very short and sweet because Thanksgiving break is ending and I have school tomorrow (I don’t want to go back. Someone please save me.)

The sun came up and shined over all of Panem. Its golden rays snuck through Coriolanus’s window, accentuating the curves of your body. Last night was one of the best nights he’s had in a while. He held you close, not wanting to let you go. He could stay like this forever. His skin could mend itself into his sheets and he wouldn’t care. As long as he had you by his side. 

You stirred awake a little while later. Even though the sun was up, Coriolanus’s room was still cold. You pulled the sheets closer to your body and yawned. 

“Good morning,” Coriolanus whispered as he kissed the naked skin of your shoulder. 

You let out another yawn in response. “Good morning. What time is it?” 

Coriolanus looked at the pocketwatch on his end table. “It’s ten in the morning.”

Your body shot up. You were supposed to be home two hours ago. Your mother had set up a meeting for you at one of the boutiques in the Capital. You’d expressed interest in working for your own money which made both of your parents proud. Little did they know that the money wasn’t just for you, but for your future with Coriolanus. 

“I have to go,” you said as you threw your clothes back on. Your tardiness wouldn’t be appreciated, but nobody would care. No matter how much you don’t like it, rules don’t apply to people like you. People who could afford to buy ten boutiques and still have money left over. 

You quickly kissed Coriolanus on the cheek before darting out of the Snow residence. 

Coriolanus sighed as he craved the warmth of your body again. He wanted to know why you left his home so fast, but you would tell him. You always tell him everything.

Coriolanus sat up and stretched his sore muscles and joints. He followed your lead and put his clothes back on. As much as he loved you, he didn’t want people to know what the two of you shared last night. Fresh scratch marks lined his back, serving as a reminder of what had conspired only a few hours ago. He hissed as he ran a hand down his back. He was lucky that you had barely missed his stitches. He loved you, but you could be reckless sometimes. 

He slowly opened his door, silently praying that Tigris and Grandma’am were still asleep. He checked around the corner and he couldn’t see anything or anyone. The coast was clear, or so he thought. 

Coriolanus walked into the kitchen with unmatchable swagger and a smug smile on his lips. But when he saw Tigris sitting at the kitchen table with two steaming cups of coffee, he knew he was in trouble. 

“Good morning, Coryo. Have a seat.” Tigris’s tone was calm as always. That eased his mind a little, but he hoped that she wouldn’t talk about what happened last night. 

“Where did you get the coffee?” He slid a mug closer to himself and observed the dark liquid in it. He hadn’t had coffee in a long time. He took a sip of it and let the bitterness settle onto his tongue. He could taste a faint trace of sugar. It was probably the last of the sugar they had in the cupboard, but as the sweetness hit his tongue, all he could think about was you. 

“It was in the basket,” Tigris motioned to the basket on the countertop. 

He remembered that Grandma’am had told him about the basket in passing. He hadn't registered that you were the one who brought the basket for them.

“Now, Coryo. We need to talk.” Tigris took one of Coriolanus’s hands into hers. Just like Coryo, Tigris has slim and bony hands. Their fingers interlaced and Tigris looked into his eyes. “The walls aren’t that thick. I know what happened last night.” 

Coriolanus closed his eyes in embarrassment. He couldn’t look his cousin in the eyes. Now it was evident that the Universe didn’t answer his prayers. 

“Hey, it’s okay. There’s no need for you to be embarrassed. I just want to make sure you’re being safe.” 

“Yes, we are,” Coriolanus said as he continued to avoid eye contact. Last night was the first time he didn't pull out. The two of you were clean and there was a low chance that you would get pregnant. 

“Good,” Tigris let go of his hand and continued, “So, did you do everything I told you?”

Tigris had always been there for Coriolanus. She was his number-one supporter and confidant. No matter what, Coriolanus would trust Tigris with anything, but sometimes Tigris would do and say things that made Coriolanus want to scream.

“Tigris!” Coriolanus hid his head in his hands. 

Tigris smirked at her younger cousin's antics. She was proud of him for finding someone to love him as he was. Coriolanus had so much to offer to the world, but not enough money for the world to take him seriously. 

The rest of the morning was spent with the two of them laughing and smiling as their conversation shifted away from sex. Even Though the universe didn't answer Coriolanus' petty prayers, he is glad for one thing though. He’s grateful that the universe brought him the most powerful, beautiful, strong, and caring women in all of Panem. 

-------------------------------

@positivelyholland @klausluvshybrids I hope you guys liked it 🤓

[ihavethedreamies]

Oh, Baby-Girl | Bang Chan

Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5.5k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Tall!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Mafia AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Mentions of Guns (Mob/Mafia type stuff), Bodyguard! Chan, Mob Boss Daughter! Reader, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! & M! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Spanking, Daddy Kink (it is Bang Chan after all), Unprotected Sex (Not Recommended), Big Dick! Chan

Author's Note: Oh no, what is this? I couldn't have possibly wrote this since I am working so diligently on packing. Well, as long as it's here…

There is just something about the choreography for Chk Chk Boom that did something to me, I'm sure many of you agree.

P.S. If you haven't read my stuff before, or much of it, you might not notice, but the rest of you have probably figured out I got a bit of a face-fucking fascination. Thanks for getting to know me.

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Being a mob boss’s wife isn’t nearly as fun and glamorous as the movies and shows (and TikTok) make it out to be. However, being the mob boss's daughter? A bit of a different story. You were protected from the violence and crime, but still got to reap the rewards. Fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, a nice car, and a bodyguard as well. Despite never being able to see him, you knew you were well protected as you walked down the streets of New York, spending all of your papa's corrupt money. A few designer shopping bags hung in the crook of your elbow over your cropped jacket, fur lining the ends of the sleeves and lapels. Faux of course, you might be the daughter of a criminal, but you weren't a monster. The thin heels of your over-the-knee (also faux) leather boots clicked on the sidewalk as you tapped away on your phone with your thumb. People moved out of your way as you walked, you just had the aura of 'fuck around and find out'. The gum in your mouth smacked as you chewed, sneering at a child who didn't move out of the way fast enough. Your eye roll was hidden behind your Versace sunglasses, but your down-turned lip covered in dark red lipstick was still obvious. Your stiletto acrylic nails were the same dark red and clicked against your phone as you scrolled through your search results. Despite how you looked and dressed, you still preferred to shop sales. That gave you more bang for your buck, since your father did limit your money some. As you passed an overly full trash can, you plucked the gum from your mouth and onto the pile. It had lost all its flavor… Approaching the next store, you were about to enter when you suddenly felt something instinctual rise up in you. You halted, people scurrying around you still, and with your natural height paired with six-inch pumps, you still stood a head above a lot of the passersby. You felt vulnerable for some reason and huffed in frustration, shoving the door open to the boutique you had stopped in front of. It wasn't your original destination, but you instantly felt safer being inside. It wasn't anywhere close to the first time your ingrained sense of danger had kicked in, and it wouldn't be the last. You know there was at least one bodyguard tailing you even if you never saw him, but that didn't mean the shelter of a store wasn't welcome.

"Welcome." One of the employees calling out snapped you out of your trance, having been looking out the window at the street. You turned and gave her a forced smile and removed your sunglasses. Deciding to look around while you were in the shop, you admired some of the items, but none of them were up to your standard, but that lingering feeling…lingered. Picking up a pair of shoes to look over, you looked out the window more, trying to see if you could pick out anyone lurking outside. Nope. Pressing your lips together, you sighed and moved to leave. Stepping back onto the street, you looked around again, trying to be subtle, almost like you were looking for a cab. Still not seeing anything that stuck out, you moved on and toward your actual destination. You were hit with an even greater sense of doom as you heard the screech of car tires in the distance and you spun around to see a black SUV hurdling down the street, unusually empty for New York. Like it was in slow motion, as the vehicle approached, the window rolled down and a gloved hand stuck out, a Glock in his hand.

"Shit!" You moved to duck behind a parked sedan, and you yelped when your heel snapped as you dove for cover. Your ankle twisted and your tights ripped, but you got behind the vehicle as you heard the gunshots. People around you screamed, and you scrambled to hit the emergency button on your phone, but… It was shattered. It must have hit the sidewalk harder than you did.

"Fuck!" You shoved the device into your purse, and you watched as people ran and screamed. Getting up just enough to peer through the blown-out window of the car you hid behind, your ankle protested, and you fell back down, catching yourself with your hand.

"Did you get her?" You heard a gruff voice shout followed by, "No!" Then, through the running pedestrians, a huge man appeared, a gun in his hand. He was right down the sidewalk, and you were right in view. Before you even had the chance to pray, a figure stepped between you and the assailant. You couldn't see since he was in your way, but you heard his gun go off and watched the goon fall from between the legs of your savior. He had to have been the bodyguard that your father told you was constantly at your tail. The man groaned and cursed, the same SUV coming to help haul him away, clutching as his knee. Sirens grew closer and you tried to get up, pushing on your scraped hand. You winced again, at least three of your nails on that hand were broken, a fourth cracked, and your heel was ruined. It would have been way too awkward to try and stand with just one pump, so you took off your other one.

"Here." The man who saved you had an accent, you couldn't quite place it in the moment. His leather-gloved hands grabbed your forearms and he more or less yanked you up. When you stood before him, he was…short. About an inch or two shorter than you…with your heels off. He was also really fucking hot. It was clear he was a bit shocked at the height difference as well since he had never been so close to you. Was he the guy always guarding you? You guessed it didn't matter if he was shorter if he was protecting you from afar. He shoved his pistol in the back of his pants, and you watched his white t-shirt struggle across his muscular chest as he did so.

"You okay, love?" Australian, it was definitely an Australian accent. And it was also really fucking hot.

"Y-Yes." You finally answered and you jerked to grab your bags, but he was grabbing them along with your purse before you could get close.

"Can you walk?" He nodded at your bare feet, and you stood on one of them, rolling your twisted ankle to test it. Putting weight back on it, "I can manage." He then started to lead you into the nearest alley as the police cruisers grew closer. At least you had stockings on as you meandered through the not exactly clean back alleys, and he finally brought you to another big black SUV parked behind some bakery.

"Here." He opened the passenger door, and you climbed in as he threw your bags in the back. You sat, shaking still as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Sh-should I be up front?" Your voice was also shaking still, and he started the vehicle.

"The windows are tinted, but we'll be quick."

"Quick? Where are we going?" Your father's building was a good twenty minutes away, let alone the house on the outskirts of the city.

"Closest place is mine."

"Y-you are my bodyguard, right?" You just realized that even though he saved you, that didn't mean it was his job. The man huffed and wrangled his leather jacket off, tossing it in the back as well. The clean lines of your father's crest were tattooed into his bicep, and you slumped in the seat.

"What's your name?"

"Chan."

"Just Chan?"

"Yep." It seemed he had been waiting for you to buckle up, because he reached around you to grab the still unfastened belt, doing it for you. He smelled really fucking good too and your head swam. The spike of adrenaline seemed to get all parts of your body worked up, but you forced the wave of arousal down. It was not the time nor place for any of that. The ride to his place was quiet, thankfully, because if he talked more, you would be a goner. Trying not to be obvious, you would look to the side to stare at him. His side profile was immaculate, strong nose and jaw line, full lips.

"So…are you…?" You didn't know how to word your question without sounding rude.

"Korean." He knew where you were going, and you let out a small 'ah' of understanding. Your father didn't get along with the Yakuza nor the Chinese mafia, so Korean made sense. Korean-Australian at that…right?

"Australia?" You wanted to make sure, not great at picking out the different British-origin accents.

"Yep."

"Am I annoying you?" He sagged at your question and shook his head.

"No, love, just trying to keep an eye out." He pointedly looked in the rear-view mirror and you let out a quiet apology. The silence made since then.

"Put your sunglasses on." Chan nodded at the item in your hand, and you did so, pointedly looking out the window as he pulled up to the security gate of his building's parking garage. Getting in without any comments from the guard, he parked in what you assumed was his designated spot. The guard got out and opened your door for you, giving you his hand for assistance. You grunted when you landed wrong on your still upset angle and he caught you, making your chest press to his.

"S-sorry." You flinched back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and he smiled gently.

"It's okay, Miss (Y/N)." Fuck, if you're already attracted to a guy with an accent, don't EVER let him say your name. As he was out of view to get your bags you mouthed an exaggerated 'oh my god' and quickly shut your mouth when he shut the back door. He led you toward the entrance door for the building, staying slow to accommodate your slight limp. Getting in the elevator, you still kept your sunglasses on just in case, though the building seemed pretty secure. That didn't mean the security watching the cameras were always completely trustworthy though. Enough money can convince most people of anything. You exhaled tiredly as you stopped by his door and Chan pressed the code into the number pad and it pinged. He held the front door open for you and you entered, hobbling down the entry hall. It was a nice place and you wondered how much your father paid him to watch you nearly 24/7. Or…

"So, are you my guard a lot?"

"During the day." So, yes.

"How long?"

"Hm…about three years."

"Ah." That was a pretty long time. So, he probably knew a lot about you, and you had never seen him before in your life.

"Oh! I need to call papa…" You rummaged through your purse that he had set on the coffee table. As you sat on the couch, you then remembered that your phone was broken.

"I'll handle it, love." Chan set your shopping bags and your shoes down as well and you had totally forgotten about your heels. When did he grab them too?

"I need to call a few others as well, if you want something to eat you can rummage through the kitchen." He nodded toward the other room behind where you sat and you nodded as he went down the other hallway, deeper into the apartment. You took the chance to look around and you wondered if he was ever there. Well, if he watched you all day for three years, he probably wasn't. The decoration was simple, almost like it was a hotel room rather than a living space, but it was nice. Maybe his bedroom was more personal? Hearing his muffled voice from further in, you stood and meandered to the kitchen like he suggested. Opening the fridge, there was more than you expected since the rest of the apartment was barren. Nothing stuck out though, but you noticed an object was in the oven despite it being off. You knew exactly what it was. Opening the oven, you grabbed the pizza box and opened it as your mouth watered. You weren't sure if the pizza was your favorite because you had it all the time (it was a front for your father's shenanigans) or if you genuinely liked it. Holding the day-old slice, you chewed absentmindedly, snooping through the rest of Chan's kitchen. He had a little wine display on the counter, and you pulled one of the bottles out to look at the label. You snorted, of course he had your family's vintage. Maybe he got a discount? At least you knew you liked it. Holding the slice in your mouth as you reached for a wine glass in the cupboard, you had to get on your tip toes to reach one. Could he normally reach them? There was dust on the glass, and you pondered if he ever used them.

"Sorry I don't use those glasses often." His voice startled you, but you kept a firm grip on the glass then set it down.

"That's fine… Do you just…drink from it?" You easily and expertly pulled the cork out with your bare hands since it was sticking out enough and he blinked at the ease with which you did so. Just because you were the daughter of a mob boss and didn't fight yourself, didn't mean you weren't strong. Your father made sure if it came to it, you could punch a guy's teeth out just as well as any bodyguard. That didn't help with guns, mind you.

"Uh, no," he huffed an airy laugh, it was actually kind of cute, "I just use a normal glass." He went to the cupboard next to the one you had been in and grabbed a square-shaped cup that looked like it was more for whiskey than wine.

"Are you doing okay, love?" He leaned against the counter as you poured yourself a glass after giving him some.

"I guess. My ankle kind of hurts still." You easily balanced on one leg, lifting the other foot to roll the joint around, testing its pain level.

"Just because I've never met you face to face doesn't mean I don't know you. Are you okay?" He pressed and you flinched to look at him. It wasn't…creepy perse, just, odd. You sighed, taking a sip, your hand still shaking a bit.

"Y-yeah. I mean, I've been around guns and stuff, but… I myself have never been shot at, you know?"

"I do, actually." He smiled cheekily and you sighed in mock annoyance.

"Well, it’s a little unfair that you seem to know me so well and I have no knowledge of you." You walked around the island and back toward the living room, sitting in relief on the couch. You crossed your leg over the other, injured ankle dangling in the air. Chan sat down next to you, leg up on the cushion so he could face you, toned arm resting on the back of the sofa. You felt his eyes linger on your tight-clad legs, your leather short-shorts showing most of your thighs. His gaze stopped at the tear in the supposedly tear-proof pantyhose, then snapped his head up like he just got startled awake. The man knew you knew he was ogling your legs and the tips of ears turned red as he cleared his throat. How was such a handsome man so cute?

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you get to be my bodyguard?"

"I had no mafia ties before. I guess that was a good thing. I was more or less scouted to be a bodyguard when I was a bouncer at some penthouse night club. It seems some of your dad's guys saw I was good, and I got offered way more money than any other job. They doubled it when I took the spot as your personal bodyguard."

"I see. Where did you learn to shoot so well?"

"I started at the shooting range when I was in college with my friends. I got better through work and your father made sure I was an expert before he put his baby girl's life in my hands."

"Hm, you obviously don't know me that well." You picked on a very small detail, wondering if he would know what it was.

"Hm, not his baby girl, his little kitten."

"Oh, maybe you do know me well then?"

"Quiz me, baby-girl." The way he said it was so different than two seconds prior. His tone deepened with it and a smug look settled casually on his face. You couldn't help but watch his throat move as he swallowed a sip of wine and you took a sip yourself, then set the glass down.

"What is my favorite color?"

"Red. Something else."

"Brand?"

"Prada. Something real (Y/N)." Chan leaned further into the cushion. You were right at eye level, and you wondered…

"Does it bother you I'm taller?" You changed the subject so fast he nearly got whiplash. You genuinely were curious. You were tall for a woman anyway, let alone when you did wear heels, and some guys didn't care for it.

"Height doesn't play into what matters, baby-girl." His slightly cryptic answer intrigued you, but you moved back to the previous topic.

"What's my favorite book and why?" He sighed, huffing a laugh at your shift back.

"You tell people it's 1984 because of the psychological implications behind it, but your favorite is actually Dragon Rider because it got you into fantasy. You read it eight times in elementary school, and you have a signed copy." Chan grinned at your bewildered expression. Once again, in any other situation that would be creepy as hell that he knew, but three years of observation would key him in.

"Okay, smart guy," you picked your glass back up, slinging your legs up under you on the couch, facing him.

"Why do I currently not have a boyfriend?" That was something you couldn't just say, it had to be observed.

"You hate romance. Flowers, chocolates, a fancy meal. You hate it, but because you like fancy clothes and jewelry, men think you lean that way. You'd prefer a movie date at home or going horseback riding." Shit, that was a little creepy. More so that he knew you so well, it was like he could see into your head, that kind of creepy. Not that he was a creep. Chan nearly cackled as he giggled at your bewildered expression, and you whined. Why was he that cute?

"Why are you that cute?" You accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud and you immediately froze, since he did too.

"I'm cute?" He managed to get out after you both sputtered for a few seconds.

"W-well, I mean-"

"I'm cute?" The simple inflection change completely shifted the meaning of his question.

"You think I'm cute?" You whispered and he set his own glass down, then took yours so he could do the same. He shifted down the cushion, so his knee touched yours. Chan leaned in and you clenched your jaw to remain strong. Don't kiss him, don't kiss him, don't kiss him.

"Baby-girl, if I didn't do you really think I would still be watching you ten hours a day, every day?" Oh. That was a good point. Chan crooked a brow, waiting for an answer or something, don't kiss him.

"You want to kiss me that bad?" he finally asked, and you jolted back, eyes leaving his mouth and shooting up to his eyes.

"What?! No?" Your voice cracked and he pressed his pretty lips together, so he didn't laugh at you.

"So, you don't want me to?"

"I never said that-" He caught you. Literally. You had tried to reel back so you could get off the couch, but his hand grabbed your wrist. It was gentle, but tight enough that he could yank you back to him, and he swallowed the squeak he pulled out of you. Your body melted, all the tension from the earlier attack as well as the sexual kind that had been quickly taking your body over, left. The kiss grew from a low heat to a full inferno rapidly. Your jacket was shed, then your necklaces and bracelets, and as his tongue crept into your mouth, you clawed at his shirt. Your fingers unevenly scratched at his skin through the fabric since about half of them were broken. You both panted when he pulled back. He slightly shoved you down so your back hit the cushion and he sat up more on his knees and you watched with glee as his shirt came off. Fucking hell, he was perfect.

"Oh my god." You gasped and his smug grin twitched briefly in bashfulness, but he composed himself.

"Let me see you, baby-girl." He easily held himself up over you as his body nestled above yours, his strong jean-clad thigh jammed between your mostly bare legs. He kissed you again as his fingers easily plucked the buttons of your shirt open and he pulled you up by the shirt. As you sat up, you yanked the shirt out of where it was tucked into your shorts and then tossed it away before falling back. The micro-fiber was a much nicer feeling than what could have been cold leather. You shivered when his calloused hands ran over the smooth and soft skin of your sides and tummy. His nose ran over your collar bone, and he nuzzled the swell of your breasts where they sat in your plain nude bra. If you knew you were going to get fucked that night, you would have worn something much sexier.

"Don't worry, it's coming off anyway." It was like he could read your mind and you yiped in shock as he unfastened the front latch so quickly it was like he did it telepathically.

"You wear them with a front latch because you can't reach around your back from when you hurt your shoulder in middle school." He really did know you well. You just blinked but then Chan forced a mewl from you as his strong thigh pressed hard into your covered mound.

"Focus, baby-girl." His voice had lowered even further, and it made you shiver. Strong hands gripped your ass over your shorts, pulling your hips to grind on his leg as his mouth met yours again. You whimpered through the kiss, goosebumps raising on your skin as the button of your shorts easily slipped open, the zipper was pulled down, and then your pants were soaring through the air somewhere you cared not.

"These are already torn…" He justified as he grabbed the hem of your pantyhose and easily ripped them to literal shreds. Chan let the remnants fall to the floor and you felt your slick through your panties against your bare thighs. At least your panties were a cute lacey purple and not just plain nude.

"You're absolutely stunning." He praised, hand running up your thigh so he could hitch it against his hip. Chan rolled his hips, and you squealed at the large bulge in his pants pressing to your barely covered cunt. If he felt that big through jeans, what the hell was he hiding? He chuckled where your hips jumped to get another brush of friction, reaching into his back pocket. As he pulled the foil package from his pants you snatched it from him.

"Planning this?" You tried to tease him, but his gaze darkened.

"Oh, baby-girl, I've wanted to fuck you for two years now." The man declared. You turned the packet over to look at the label, making a mental note at the size, then you looked at him coyly.

"You clean?"

"Yes?"

"Good." You tossed it behind your shoulder, then grabbed his belt loop, pulling him to you as you sat up. You smirked up at him, head tipped back so you could look him in the eye.

"Can you really feel me like you want through a rubber?" He swallowed hard, all that confidence from before seemingly to leave, then rushed back.

"Not even fucking close." He admitted, pushing you back down and starting to lay open mouth kisses against your neck. He sucked hard, his teeth nibbling the flesh and you shuddered with a delighted whine.

"We can put my pill to the test." You teased and he groaned, kissing down your chest. His mouth sealed over your nipple as he wrestled his jeans off and you exhaled in bliss as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the fabric still covering them.

"You care about these?" He snapped the hem of the undergarment. You did, but you really wanted to watch him tear them up more.

"Nope." You popped the 'p' and the lace ripped and joined your other items of clothing somewhere behind him. You yelped when his hands grabbed your waist and shoved you up the sectional, so he had room to lay on his stomach. Before you got the chance to prop yourself up on your elbows, his tongue ran up the folds of your pussy and his nose brushed your clit.

"Fuck!" You tossed your head back, body twitching as he decided to bury his tongue inside you. He groaned at your taste, hands roughly grabbing the backs of your thighs. He rolled you back, holding your legs apart and up as he mouthed at you like a man starved. Your little mewls and squeaks flew out between heaving breaths, and you felt his grip tighten, knowing he would leave bruises. When he let go of your left leg, he made sure you rested it on the back of the couch, and then his finger pressed into your twitching cunt.

"You’re drippin’." He chuckled, then added another finger and your whole body seized. Expertly, he crooked his fingers up, the ends pressing against your cervix and with a final lick to your clit, you came. He eagerly helped you ride out your high, then cleaned his fingers off with his tongue as you panted for air. Your forearm was slung over your eyes as you came back to earth, and you only moved your arm to watch as he removed his final garment. You hadn't even got a chance to look at him in just his boxers, but there he stood in absolute glory. His cock stood proud, arching up toward his toned stomach and you heaved yourself up so you could see him better.

"Oh~" You giggled, wrapping your fingers around his cock and he groaned at the feeling. You bit your lip, eyes meeting his giddily, then you swallowed the tip, whining at salt of his pre.

"(Y/N), baby-girl~" He tossed his head back as you took more of him into your mouth. He was thick, your jaw protesting a bit, and you still had a good few inches to go when the head hit the back of your throat. Your eyes flicked to his again, and you made sure to watch his face and you kept going, only gagging slightly as your nose pressed to his groin.

"Oh, fuck." He nearly whimpered, hands gripping your hair, then loosened his grip. He groaned as you bobbed your head, breath harshly moving through your nose as his cock filled and left your throat. His hips jumped and the sudden movement made you gag a bit harder, but it made your cunt clench as well.

"Shit, sorry!" He panicked, but you pulled off slowly, giving him your best boba eyes.

"Wanna keep going?" You hoped your intention was clear and he didn't even hesitate. The hands still in your hair pulled you back onto his cock and you sat like a good girl as the fat head of Chan's dick battered your throat. Your eyes rolled back, loving not just his rough movements, but the pretty noises leaving his mouth.

"Hm, you want me to cum down your throat, baby-girl?" Chan's hips jerked unevenly, and you could feel his dick pulse on your tongue. You hummed and nearly wiggled with glee as he pressed your nose hard against his lower stomach and painted your throat white. You eagerly swallowed each pump and drop, and he mumbled something about wondering why he waited so long to have you. Only half-softened, he pulled out of your mouth, and you licked the rest off his release of your lips. You didn't even get the chance to give him a smug grin before you were flipped over onto your stomach, and he heaved your hips up.

"Tell me if I do something wrong." His comment seemed odd, but it seemed he really did know you well. You gasped a moan as his hand smacked your ass, the skin stinging, and he could see your empty cunt clench around nothing.

"You want daddy's cock?" His thumb ran through the slick of your folds, and you trembled. There was a very specific reason you only called your father 'papa'. You only wished you had found Chan sooner to actually put it into practice.

"Fuck, yes, daddy!" You squealed in joy, hiccupping when his other hand slapped your other ass cheek.

"Get ready, then baby-girl." You were ready mentally, but your pussy wasn't. Your cunt burned as he buried his fat cock into you with one thrust. You reveled in the sting, craved it, and your already tight walls clenched around him hard. Even if he wasn't fucking you from behind, you were sure he was long enough to fill you completely, the tip nestled tight against your cervix.

"Fucking hell." You sighed, nails digging into the thick fabric of the couch. He let you get used to the stretch, but you just wanted him to move, you were even getting antsy.

"Move, please." Your wiggled were stopped with a hard spank. You yelped.

"Daddy, please." You corrected and he ran his thumb over the reddening skin.

"Sure thing, love." Your cunt tried desperately to keep his cock inside, and a few drops of your wet landed on the couch. Your breath left you when his hips snapped, fucking back into you hard and fast, his pace not letting you catch it back. He loved the little mewls and grunts he was literally fucking out of you. Your cheek was pressed to the cushion, drool already pooling from the corner of your mouth. He had waited too long to take you, he decided, and he was going to make up for the lost time.

"Ch-chan, fuck!" Your orgasm was cresting fast, a familiar burn rising with your orgasm. Spank!

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna-" Your breath shuddered as your orgasm hit and he slowed his pace some, grinding his cock into you as your pussy spasmed.

"Oh, baby-girl~!" He groaned as your cunt squirted even more slick onto his groin and balls, even both of your thighs. You slumped after what seemed like minutes and heaved for air, but he wasn't anywhere close to done. Your near scream as he started to pummel his hips against your ass again went straight to his head. He leaned over you, hands near your shoulders. Normally, he was used to leaning over a girl quite a bit, but his hands fell to the sides of your shoulders rather than your head, your body just as long as his, legs even longer. Despite the small height difference (in your favor), you felt small under him, he had broad shoulders and thick muscles, and an even thicker cock. The hard and deep thrusts turned shallow, his dick barely leaving your cunt but battering it at the same time, bringing you up to and over another orgasm fast.

"So deep, daddy~" You nearly cheered, and he found your weakness. He pressed his hips into yours, barely moving them and you gasped, a fourth orgasm already approaching. He felt your walls clench harder and you felt your pussy start to sting, but you needed to fall apart again. It was too much for him then, your raw heat and gummy walls begging him to pump you full.

"Gotta test that pill." He mumbled, then groaned as he finally fell over as well. The sticky heat of his cum filling you, so much it spurted out from around where your bodies met, pushed you over the edge as well. Your head swam from the force of your final orgasm, stars dotting your vision. As he panted for air over you, he watched your eyes flutter; you were wiped out.

"I'll let you sleep over, baby-girl. Gotta rest for when I fuck you stupid tomorrow morning."

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

[goldfades]

🌱 wedding dress shopping w your mom and ellen... you like a dress but it's over your budget but jack gave his card to ellen and ends up spoiling you

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 704

♡ ─ warnings | slight angst (y/n being sad over a dress) but cute mom/ellen/you moment!!!!!

♡ ─ ev's notes | jack seems like the type to drop 50k on a wedding dress LMAO (as he should)

"Oh my gosh, this one looks like my wedding dress!" Your mom gasped as she touched the dress, a warm smile on her smile. You gasped at that, touching it as well. Ellen smiled as she watched you and your mom continue to admire the dress.

"Oh, does it really?" Ellen chuckled, a fondness evident in her voice. "We have to look at the old pictures when we get home again, I love good old wedding photos."

You nodded, still marveling at the dress that bore a resemblance to your mother's. The three of you were in a bridal boutique, surrounded by lace, satin, and tulle in every shade imaginable.

"I remember the day I found my dress," Ellen continued, her eyes sparkling with memories. "It was such a special moment, just like this one. It's a dress that holds so much good memories, despite the stress that comes along a wedding."

Your mother laughed, her eyes reflecting the shared memories of her own wedding day. "Yes, despite the stress, it was one of the happiest days of my life. And finding the perfect dress made it even more special."

Ellen nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. There's something magical about finding that one dress that makes you feel like a princess."

Your mother began walking away from the dress, looking around. "Anything catch your eye yet, sweetie?"

You shook your head as you sighed. You were still thinking about the dress you had found a couple days ago but you had decided it was way other budget, not being able to justify spending that much money on a dress.

Ellen noticed the hint of disappointment in your expression and stepped closer, her eyes filled with warmth. "Is everything alright, Y/N?"

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to share your dilemma. Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke, "I found a dress a couple of days ago that I absolutely fell in love with. It was perfect in every way, but..." You trailed off, the weight of your decision hanging in the air.

"But it was way over budget," Ellen finished your sentence, her voice gentle yet understanding. "Sweetheart, finding the perfect dress is not just about the price tag. It's about how it makes you feel, the emotions it evokes. If there's a particular dress that captured your heart, it shouldn't matter how much it is."

Your mother, sensing your hesitation, chimed in with a reassuring smile. "Your happiness is what matters the most. We can always explore options, but if you're still thinking about it then we should look at it again, babe."

"But it was way over budget-"

"Y/N." Ellen said firmly. "It doesn't matter the price, Jack told me to make sure to get any dress you want. Jack wouldn't even notice how much we took, plus all he wants is his future wife to be happy." She smiled as you laughed.

You sighed as you nodded. "Okay, then."

"Sweetheart, it's not even gonna make a dent in his bank account, trust me." Ellen joked as you laughed again. "And plus, your wedding day is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion, and you deserve to feel like a princess."

Your mother nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the same sentiment. "Ellen's right, sweetheart. Jack loves you more than anything, and he wants to see you happy on your wedding day. If this dress is the one that makes you feel that way, then let's make it happen."

Finally, unable to resist any longer, the boutique attendant brought out the dream dress once again. As you slipped into it, a sense of certainty washed over you. The delicate details, the way it made you feel – it was worth every penny, especially knowing that Jack wanted you to have the dress that would make you happy.

Ellen and your mom exchanged knowing glances as you twirled in front of the mirror, a radiant smile on your face. Their silent approval meant more to you than words could express.

"This is it," you said, your voice filled with certainty.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look absolutely breathtaking," Ellen whispered, genuine happiness radiating from her. Your mom, too, had tears in her eyes as she watched you.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[chihoshisai]

Begrudgingly Yours

Smoker x Reader

cw : set in post timeskip, friendship to lovers, reader has a bit of an attitude, Smoker looks out for reader, denial of feelings until they explode // wc : 3, 188K BUT the following will be around 1,8K as a preview. Link to ao3 will be provided at the end of the preview or you can click here to directly read it there

“You swindler! What’s with these prices, huh?!” The frustration of your voice echoed through the market, only to seamlessly blend with the cacophony of conversations that buzzed daily in the diverse pathways. Before you sat a grumpy fruit stall vendor, who seemingly just as tired of your tactics at negotiation had his arms crossed with a look of annoyance trying to pierce through that fierce skin of yours. 

“If you’re not going to buy anything, get lost,” he sighed, pointing his head towards the other stands in a rude manner. 

However, haggling had been a regular occurrence for you regardless of your skills.  “They’re way too out of range for what you’re selling!” you breathed in the hope that the vendor would eventually fold. With a steady grip, you grabbed the nearest apple and tried to vouch for a lower price, bickering in an endless back and forth until a gloved hand appeared in your field of vision, handing dollar bills to the vendor. 

“Is this enough?” The familiar voice rang, causing your shoulders to momentarily tense whilst you forbid every part of your being from looking up at the towering figure that stood behind you — the smell of multiple cigars enveloping you in a familiar embrace, as you secretly breathed in the toxic nectar of the fumes.

Seeing the nod of the vendor, along with the swift way in which he packed you the desired amount of fruits, handing them in a surprisingly polite manner to your extended hand, you couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the uncalled help. Placing the fruits in your shopping bag, you rolled your eyes at the additional words of the individual.  

“You suck at negotiating prices, so don’t bother wasting your time like that,” the words pointed out, causing the increase of the bitter feeling that boiled in your chest, much in contrast to the sizzling sensation that threatened to char your heart. 

“Smoker,” you perked your head to gaze into the usual frown of your friend — not without stealing a glance towards the parted lips that holded an unusual number of cigars — before making your way towards the bustling streets. “That’s quite a heroic way to let me know you’re back,” you flatly remarked, letting your eyes wander throughout the different stalls and boutiques.

“There’s no need to thank me,” his low voice floated through your ears, as he walked by your side. His presence had both been a blessing and a curse — ever since he had been appointed as the leader of the G-5 unit one, he had frequently been visiting your island during his time off. And with the twisted passing of time the two of you had enough encounters to pass from acquaintances to friends — and lately with the uninvited butterflies and churning that found refuge in your body, it left you fearful as to what the future may hold.

“I never knew marines handed out money to the poor,” you sarcastically scoffed at the thought of how these so called protectors of justice often seemed like ruffians. With few exceptions like Smoker, who secured his place in your life by that simple difference. 

Ignoring your remark, Smoker studied your unnoticing self — who purposefully prevented any form of eye contact — until his eyes landed on the grocery filled bag that wobbled in your arms. With adept hands, he successfully grabbed the content of your arms as you absent-mindedly persisted to keep your attention elsewhere. 

Having no choice but to peer over at him in these circumstances, a sigh escaped your lips, before they formed an angry pout. “You don’t have to do that,” you told him with a slap on the shoulder which in all honestly probably didn’t amount to much on his far too toned body. 

Though, knowing Smoker’s nature, you knew it was useless to try and convince him to do otherwise. “Oh whatever, suit yourself,” you quickly added with a side glance to his exposed skin. No matter how much time passed, such features would never fail to make a rush of heat run throughout your body. And you blamed him for making such a bold decision upon his fashion style. What good is there in exposing one’s chest either way?

“Where are you going?” he asked after resuming course along the market, his eyes eyeing you still, in the hopes of finding an answer.

“Home,” you flatly answered. “I’m assuming you’re here to get some of your clothes mended too aren’t you?” Never in your seamstress career had you ever thought to have a marine as one of your customers, but Smoker insisted he’d rather have his clothes done by you under the excuse of trust in your skills. In all honesty you knew it was most likely his way of supporting your business and an excuse to crash at your place as he waited for his clothes to be as good as new. 

“I don’t have anything that needs to be fixed,” Smoker pointed out, lowering his gaze to meet the expected frown you latched at him.

“Then why are you here?” Your brain raced trying to find other reasons as to his visit, “then is it Tashigi? Is she too self conscious to ask me a favor or something?” you blurted out.

“No. Do I need a reason to come visit you on my day off?” He somewhat innocently asked, making guilt creep in the nook of your conscience. 

“I guess not,” the words trailed, with your head lowering to the ground. If you weren’t about to busy yourself with sewing while Smoker was here, then what would the two of you do? The thought of a foreign future somehow worried you, as the sincere feelings that coursed through your body came to a high. 

When your feet had finally led the both of you to your place, you begrudgingly opened the door to the boutique, which buzzed with a few customers along with the bright grin of your mother greeting you in. 

“Smoker, you’re here too. Is there anything you’d like us to fix for you today?” the honeyed voice of your mother asked, whilst you somewhat sourly made your way backstore — your mind still racing to find a way to entertain the unforeseen guest. 

“No, I’m simply here to hangout,” he replied to the overly compliant mother who urged him to make himself at home, before shortly following your tracks that led to the home hidden behind the store and into the kitchen. 

“Help me with the groceries,” you instructed, a hand extended towards the bag he effortlessly holded.

“Are you that eager to get started?” He skirted over you with the hint of a smile, to place the bag on the table.

“I just want to get done with this chore,” you grunted, grabbing the bag of fruit Smoker had previously paid from his gloved hands. Sometimes your mood was even more gruff than his whenever he was near, providing for a clear contrast to the chirp and easygoing attitude you had while working — courtesy of the strange phenomena that seized every inch of your body at the slight mention, thought or dream of him. 

Now that the man in question stood in your kitchen, placing ingredients here and there as he was familiar with the place, you striked fierce glares whenever his back was turned — blaming him for the feelings he caused you to foster. And no matter how hard you tried to suppress them, the wretched thing seemed to nurture itself on its own, until you were left with no choice but to accept that you were in too deep to back down. In spite of that, chickens would have more chance of flying before you allowed yourself to act on the sensations. 

Plus, with a man like Smoker, chances were he valued his work more than anything else — and with the passionate way in which he spoke of his encounter with the Straw Hats and how many times he vowed to catch them, you lost count of how many times you jokingly told him to marry the crew if he was so obsessed with them. 

“It’s raining,” the serious voice of Smoker snapped you from your train of thought, your head perking towards the window to see the gray filter casted by the rain on the outside. You grumbled some incomprehensible words that sounded like ‘My laundry’ before bolting out of the room with a frustrated grunt, leaving Smoker with free reign in your home. Used to your antics, he simply resumed his task, as he assumed you would certainly snap had he followed you. With a puff of his cigars, he sighed, his head dropping at the thought that you had been more and more grumpy towards him as of late, failing to understand what he had done wrong.

***

“Sorry I took so long, I had to fold clothes,” you began before entering the kitchen, only to find it empty. The grocery bag already having been disposed of and the splatter of the rain echoed through the dimly lit room, as though to provide an additional presence. 

“Where did he go?” Frowning at the absence of Smoker, you went on to search various room of the house, knocking on the bathroom door, taking a peek at the living room, and even reluctantly bursting through your sibling’s room and leaving without a word after having scanned the place without seeing the fairly noticeable size of Smoker.

As the idea that he might have already left formed in your mind like salvation, you went to the boutique with the intention of confirming his disappearance. “Mom, did Smoker pass through here?” you asked, seeing her pack already made clothes for the lady that stood next to the counter.

“No, but while you’re here could you quickly mend these for me?” She asked, giving you a simple pleading glance which you happily replied with a nod and without complaint went on to aid around the shop, while the thought of not having to entertain Smoker danced in your mind. But with a start came an end, and you found yourself faced with no choice but to return to the silent home with only the rhythmic disturbance of the rain as company.   

Being faced with your previous dilemma, a tired sigh escaped your lips as you dragged your body through the residence, visiting each room once more in the hope Smoker might have resurfaced. “I give up!” The frustrated words escaped your lips while your feet led you back to the kitchen to grab a pack of cookies before climbing the stairs and for them to unceremoniously open the door to your room.    

Unexpected phenomena kept appearing today, as though each were trying to test your patience, as you walked in to find the relaxed form of your friend in a deep slumber on your bed, eyeing him with a gaping mouth. He truly had made himself at home. The faint smell of smoke still floated around, filling your nose in its familiar smell, with your eyes daring to take a proper look at Smoker since the settling of your feelings.

Continue on ao3 !

[atinyslittleworld]

The Cost of Time

ceo!san x f!reader

Summary: San, a successful CEO, finds himself in a heated argument with his girlfriend, Y/N, who feels neglected due to his demanding career.

Word Count: 749

Genre: slice of life, angst

Warnings: the couple has and argument

San was the quintessential CEO: sharp-suited, steely-eyed, and always in control. His company, a titan in the tech industry, had brought him immense wealth and prestige. However, this evening, control was slipping through his fingers as he stood in the middle of his opulent penthouse, embroiled in a heated argument with his girlfriend, Y/N.

"You never have time for me anymore, San!" Y/N shouted, her voice echoing off the marble floors. Her eyes were filled with frustration and hurt. "It's always another meeting, another business trip. What about us?"

San ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, trying to stay calm. "Y/N, you know how important my work is. I’m doing this for us, for our future."

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. "Do I? Because it feels like I'm not even a part of your present."

San's jaw tightened as he tried to keep his composure. "That's not fair, Y/N. I'm trying my best to balance everything."

"But it's not enough!" she yelled, her voice cracking with emotion. "I'm tired of being second place to your job."

The tension in the room was palpable. In a moment of impulsive defiance, Y/N grabbed San's platinum credit card from the counter. She knew it was petty, but in her anger, she didn't care. "Fine. If your work is so important, I’ll just take care of myself."

San watched her storm out, his heart sinking. He loved her deeply but felt powerless to balance his career and their relationship. He knew she needed to blow off steam, and while he wasn't worried about the card—after all, it had no limit—he was concerned about the state of their relationship.

Y/N's anger propelled her through the city, hitting every high-end boutique and designer store she could find. She bought designer suits, silk ties, luxury watches, and fine leather shoes. With each swipe of the card, she felt a fleeting sense of satisfaction, imagining San’s reaction. But in her emotional haze, she didn't realize that every item she purchased was for him.

Hours later, laden with bags, she returned to the penthouse, half-expecting San to be waiting for her, ready for another fight. To her surprise, he was seated calmly in the living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked up as she entered, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Have a good time?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Y/N set the bags down, her bravado faltering. "I... I thought you'd be angry."

San stood and walked over to her, gently taking her hands. "Y/N, it's not the money that matters. No amount of spending could ever change how I feel about you. What matters is that you're upset, and I need to fix that."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him. "I just wanted to get your attention, San. To make you see how much this hurts."

San pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close. "I see it now. I’m sorry if I made you feel unimportant. You're everything to me, and I need to do better."

As they stood there, holding each other, San glanced at the bags. "So, what did you buy?"

Y/N blinked, realizing she hadn't really paid attention to her purchases. "Just... things," she said vaguely, starting to pull items from the bags.

San chuckled as he saw the contents. "Suits, ties, watches... You went on a spree for me?"

Y/N looked down at the pile of clothes and accessories, her cheeks turning red. "I didn't even realize," she whispered. "I was so mad, I just... I thought I was getting back at you."

San laughed softly, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. "Looks like even in your anger, you were thinking of me."

Y/N smiled, a mix of embarrassment and affection. "I guess I was."

San kissed her gently, brushing a tear from her cheek. "Thank you for the new wardrobe. But more importantly, thank you for caring. We'll figure this out together. I'll make more time for us. You deserve that, and so do we."

They spent the rest of the evening talking, making plans to balance San’s demanding career with their relationship. They scheduled date nights, vacations, and simple evenings at home to ensure they would stay connected. As they sat together, surrounded by the evidence of Y/N’s unintentional shopping spree, they both realized that no amount of spending could ever compare to the value of their love and commitment to each other.

[crusty-chronicles]

Yu Yu Hakusho Men Reacting to Receiving Flowers

Synopsis: How the men of Yu Yu Hakusho react to receiving flowers and if they'd get you some in return 🌺

Yusuke💥

He pretends to be offended, but honestly it makes his heart melt

The fact that you went out of your way to actually buy him something makes him feel special.

Doing it just because without expecting anything grand in return.

If you give him flowers in private, he puts up less of a fuss.

“I'm not sick or anything, you know. Besides, you could've just plucked some weeds instead of spending so much money.” He says after (not so) begrudgingly taking the small bouquet from you.

Already knowing they won't last more than a week in his care. But still trying to hide the heat rising to his cheeks.

But if you give him flowers in front of his friends, namely Kuwabara, he makes a big show of it.

“What am I? A girl? Or did you just wanna take on gardening, because there's no way in hell you actually got me flowers.”

You end up calling him a jerk before leaving.

And he feels really bad after.

Despite his tough guy act, he genuinely does care about you and hates to see you upset. Especially when it's because of him and his big mouth.

So he shows up later to your house with an even bigger bouquet of roses.

“I'm sorry for being an ass. I didn't mean it I just…didn't want- Well, Kuwabara would never let me live it down.” He tries to explain.

But you weren't buying it, judging by how you still hadn't opened your door all the way. So he tries to apologize again the only way he knows how.

“I'll take you out wherever you want for a week if you let me in?” He says hopefully.

“That's not enough. You really hurt my feelings today.”

“Two weeks. And I'll buy you flowers every day. Your favorites~ sunflowers.”

He keeps true to his word and makes sure to always accept whatever you gift him with a huge smile from now on.

No matter if it makes him look like a softie or not.

---------------------

Kurama🦊

He's thrilled

Will point out and explain what every flower means.

What each part of the bouquet symbolizes

Please buy this man red roses

As cliche as they are, they symbolize love. Your love.

And he can't help but be smitten by the fact.

He's not the slightest embarrassed whether you give them to him in public or private.

Even if the others tease him for it, he'll just come up with a witty remark to shut them down.

“Maybe they think you're a girl after all,” Yusuke said, followed by another taunt from Kuwabara.

“His delicate features got to them.”

“What a funny way of saying the two of you have never thought of getting your partners flowers before? You do know Valentine's Day is coming up right?” Kurama shut down.

And the both of them start racing to the nearest boutique. Pushing and shoving each other out of the way.

When you gift Kurama flowers, they don't wither away within a few weeks.

Instead he'll use his demon energy to keep them alive for years.

Might even plant some of them to make a new bouquet for you in the future.

All in all, it's one of the few gestures that makes his heart beat just a little bit faster. And he cherishes each and every bud.

------------------------------

Hiei ⚔️

He could care less tbh

He isn't all that familiar with human gestures, so he doesn't know what to make of it when you present him with a bouquet

“Are you taunting me?” He asks.

And you have to explain to him that sometimes humans like to gift flowers to their lovers as a way to show affection.

He personally thinks it's a waste of time and energy. A few weeds that shrivel up and die within a week are supposed to symbolize your feelings? Why waste your human currency when he can just show you affection through his actions. i.e. watching over you.

He tells you as much too, but the second he sees you deflate, he quickly snatches them up.

Grumbling out a ‘Don’t start sulking like a child. I didn't say I rejected your little gift.’ And a ‘Next time don't bother. Come to me directly.’

Hiei will only receive your flowers in private.

You will not be able to catch him in public to give them to him.

In fact, he rarely goes out during the day. Preferring to wait for you at home.

He will also not mention it to the others and trusts you'll do the same.

Your relationship is private, and he prefers to keep it that way.

While Hiei personally doesn't see the appeal of giving flowers, he knows you do.

Which is why you wake up one morning to see a single white orchid on your pillow

And he'll deny it was ever him that left it there.

--------------------

Bonus Jin🌪️

The purest of bois

He's absolutely ecstatic when you give him flowers

Like Hiei, he doesn't understand many human gestures. But it's the fact you're giving him something that makes him so happy.

You could probably give him a rock and he'd have the same reaction

He eventually asks you why you brought him flowers.

And when you say it's because you love him, he's practically jumping with joy. Picking you up in a strong hug and swinging you around a few times before placing a smooch on your cheek.

“You've got me ears wigglin’ and everything!” And sure enough, the tips of his ears are jittering about in excitement.

He'd like to return the favor and get you flowers just as beautiful however-

“We've got a few pretty plants in demon world, but they'd probably bite your head clean off. Woosh! Just like that.” He explains.

He settles for bringing you little wildflowers whenever he has a chance to visit instead.

He's a little fascinated to find out there's meaning behind each flower.

He just figured they were pretty and that's it.

When you tell him a baby’s breath (which he thinks is an incredibly weird name for a flower) means long lasting love, he swears he can feel his face warm.

So he tries to find you flowers that hold meaning too.

The color red always seems to mean love, so most of the flowers he gifts to you in return are that color.

He's just an absolute sweetheart all around 🥺

------------------

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💘

[yanderecrazysie]

Idol Chapter One: Suits and Combat Boots (Yandere Haikyuu x Reader)

WARNINGS: swearing

無敵の笑顔で荒らすメディア...

Couldn't beat her smile, it stirred up all the media…

“You really have to stop doing this,” your Aunt Rika sighed, pushing back her short black hair away from her face. She tossed you an ice pack and you placed it over your black eye with a hiss of pain at the contact.

“You should see the other guy,” you joked, leaning your head back into the sofa to soothe its aching on the cool leather.

“There are other ways to earn money,” Aunt Rika said, walking over to the couch and sitting on the arm of it, looking down at your splayed form.

“Find me a way that doesn’t need a high school diploma and isn’t completely miserable and I’ll apply.”

“Actually,” Aunt Rika said with a smile, “I’ve been thinking about taking on an apprentice.”

You sat up so quickly that it made your head spin, “There’s no way in hell I’m kissing the shoes of some up-and-coming brat.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Aunt Rika replied, “I mean, there will be some coffee runs, but I’ll be mainly expecting you to communicate with choreographers, marketing, and studios, keeping an eye on their progress, and things like that.”

“I don’t have any fancy degrees, though,” you said quietly, looking up at the ceiling, “You know I didn’t even finish high school.”

“I pick the requirements,” Aunt Rika said, reaching down and giving your hair a ruffle, “And I think you’ll fit the apprenticeship role perfectly. Maybe you’ll even be an idol manager yourself one day.”

“Ahhh, nepotism,” you laughed.

Aunt Rika’s face twisted a little, “Let’s just think of it as me giving a shot to someone that wouldn’t normally get one.”

You nodded, “I can go with that.”

“Let’s get you in a suit,” Aunt Rika said, a smile tugging at her lips, “I’ve always wanted to see you in a suit.”

“Sure, but I’m not wearing any of those fancy shoes. They pinch my toes.”

“What will you wear then?” Aunt Rika asked, confused.

You grinned and put your feet up on the coffee table, showing off your faded black combat boots, “Why, these of course, dear auntie.”

Your aunt’s face twisted again as she internally fought whether it was worth an argument or not. Finally, she let out a weary laugh, “You’ll be the most… interesting manager these boys will have ever met.”

“Hell yeah I will,” you said with a laugh. 

You didn’t expect to be woken up the next morning at the asscrack of dawn and dragged to a high-end boutique. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of a full-length mirror, trying not to fidget as a tailor buzzed around you like a mosquito, adjusting the fit of your future suit jacket and sticking pins here and there. 

You felt more out of place than ever before, a healing black eye peering at expensive and designer clothes on every side. Your teeth tugged on your bottom lip and you let your shoulders fall into a hunched position.

“Stop slouching,” Aunt Rika said firmly, sitting up in the nearby plush chair, keeping her critical eye on the tailor that flitted around you. “You need to look confident, even if you aren’t feeling that way.”

You grimaced at your reflection and straightened up, but the stiff fabric made it hard, “I’m going to look like a fu-” the tailor shot you a look, “-flipping penguin in this getup.”

Aunt Rika raised an eyebrow, “A very stylish penguin.” She sighed at your unenthusiastic expression and continued, “You’re going to be dealing with professionals who expect a certain level of… decorum. First impressions make all the difference in this field.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” you muttered, but you knew she was one hundred percent correct. If you wanted to actually have a shot at making it anywhere in this world, you’d have to look the part.

You were still wearing your combat boots, though.

The tailor finished with your jacket and stepped back, arms outstretched, “How does that feel?”

You moved your arms up and down awkwardly, testing the stiffness of the fabric, “It’s fine… I think? I don’t know, I’m not used to this.”

Aunt Rika stood and walked over, circling you once and looking you up and down, “It’ll take some getting used to, but you look very professional.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror. The suit did look nice- black, sleek, well-fitted… it made you look older, more put together. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Aunt Rika led you next to the show section. You eyed the rows of polished dress shoes with utter disgust, already dreading what she was about to suggest.

“Alright,” Aunt Rika said, picking up a pair of fancy black leather shoes. “These will go perfectly with your suit!”

“No way,” you made a face, “My toes would just flat out die.”

Aunt Rika rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a small smile, “You can’t seriously wear combat boots with your suit.”

“Says who?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“Says common sense,” she replied, “But fine, let’s find something more… flexible.”

An hour passed without you agreeing on a single shoe. Your aunt eventually threw up her hands in the air and, surrounded by piles of shoes, said, “Fine! Combat boots it is!”

With clothes sorted, you moved on to accessories. Aunt Rika insisted on a simple, yet very expensive watch, and you reluctantly let her, not used to having so much money spent on you.

Even though she was your guardian and filthy stinking rich, Aunt Rika rarely spent extravagant amounts of money on herself or you. She preferred to live an average life or maybe she just didn’t want to spoil you.

But by the time you left the boutique, both of your arms were weighted down with shopping bags and you hadn’t spent a cent out of your own nearly-empty wallet. You hated letting people spend lots of money on you, but Aunt Rika insisted it was an “investment”.

As you both walked back to the car, Aunt Rika glanced over at you. “This could be a good opportunity for you. If you take this seriously, it could open doors for you.”

You dropped the bags onto the back seat of the car and avoided her proud gaze, “It’s just… a lot. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I’m here for you,” Aunt Rika said, giving you a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder, “We’ll take it one step at a time. I think you’ll surprise yourself.”

You nodded. Your aunt was doing you a favor by offering you this apprenticeship and not to another hopeful, more qualified person. This was your chance to prove something. To yourself or the world, you weren’t sure.

You climbed into the passenger seat and whispered, “Let’s do this.” You meant to say it to yourself more than Aunt Rika, but she looked over at you and smiled widely.

“That’s the spirit!”

Aunt Rika handed you a picture, "These are the boys we'll be working with."

You took the photo from her and looked down at it. The men in the picture were all clearly idols, with matching charming grins. You read the signatures scrawled across each idol.

Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma, and Hinata Shoyo…

Little did you know, those five men would become your worst nightmare.

…知りたいその秘密ミステリアス

…Secret side, I wanna know it, so mysterious

[drtyelvisfantasy]

Love in the Hamptons🤍🥂

Parings: Chris Evans x reader

Summary: You and Chris spend a romantic weekend in the Hamptons

Song for the fic: Old Money- Lana Del Rey

The warm summer breeze swept through the car as Chris drove down the winding road towards their house in the Hamptons. The scent of saltwater filled the air, and the anticipation of a relaxing weekend away together made your hearts flutter.

As the both of you arrived at the stunning beachfront property, Chris parked the car and turned to you with a grin. "Welcome to our little slice of paradise," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Hand in hand, you and Chris walked up the stone pathway, surrounded by vibrant flowers and manicured gardens. The sound of seagulls filled the air as the both of you reached the front door. Chris unlocked it, revealing a beautifully decorated beach-style interior that exuded warmth and comfort.

Your eyes widened in awe as you stepped inside. The spacious living room boasted large windows that overlooked the ocean, inviting the golden sunlight to fill the space. The scent of fresh ocean air mingled with the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore.

Chris wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling them close. "This place has always been my sanctuary," he confessed, his voice filled with affection. "And now, it's ours."

Over the next few days, you and Chris reveled in the beauty of the Hamptons. The both of spent lazy mornings strolling along the shoreline, the both of your bare feet sinking into the warm sand. The sun kissed your skin, and laughter filled the air as the both of you chased each other, playfully splashing water.

In the afternoons, you and Chris explored the quaint little town nearby, hand in hand as you both ventured into charming boutiques and indulged in ice cream cones. The both of you shared intimate conversations over candlelit dinners, savoring every moment of each other's company.

As the sun began to set, you and Chris would retreat to the porch, sinking into plush chairs as you both watched the sky transform into a canvas of vibrant colors. With your fingers intertwined with his, you and Chris would whisper sweet nothings and dreams for the future to each other, feeling the weight of Chris’s love grow stronger with each passing day.

On one particular evening, a gentle breeze rustled through the palm trees that lined the property. Chris pulled you into a slow dance on the porch, swaying to the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore. The soft sound of “Moonlight Serenade” by Frank Sinatra playing in the background added a touch of magic to the moment.

The both of your hearts beat in sync as the both of you danced under the starlit sky, together your was love casting a warm glow around the both of you. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only Chris and you in your own little universe.

As the night wore on, the both you wrapped yourselves in blankets and lay on the porch, your bodies pressed close together. Your fingertips traced constellations in the sky, sharing stories and dreams that the both of you had never spoken aloud before.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold, and you both retreated to the cozy bedroom, falling into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's arms. The Hamptons had witnessed your love story unfold, and it held those memories close, ready to welcome them back whenever you and Chris needed a sanctuary from the outside world.

In the embrace of your shared beachfront home, the both of you found solace, love, and a never-ending bond. The Hamptons became not just a place, but a symbol of your love, a reminder of the beauty you both had created together.

And as the both of you drifted off to sleep, your hearts and souls intertwined, you knew that the Hamptons would forever hold a special place in your hearts—a haven that would always welcome the both of you back, whispering tales of love and memories yet to be made.

[iridescentpull]

Gatos e Rosas will be on hold for a week or so since I have a VERY busy week ahead of me and won't have time to write the new chapters.

As an apology, I did a thing on twitter that for every like the tweet received, I would post one fact about a character of the GeR universe (mainly fitpac ofc).

So here's part one of those facts, hope you enjoy :) lmk if you want more!

Ramón was adopted by Fit and Spreen when he was barely 3 years old

Pac lost his leg in an accident (will be explained in the story) when he was 19

Fit went to the army straight when he was fresh outta highschool, thinking he knew everything (he didn't)

Pac's amputation is an above knee one, also known as a transfemoral one

Phil and Missa are in a queerplatonic marriage

Tina works in the fashion industry and has dreams of owning her own boutique and line in the future

Quesadilla City is a small city in a fictional island located in the Northern Hemisphere

Ramón is autistic, and he goes nonverbal whenever he's extremely stressed or overstimulated. He and Fit communicate through sign language when that happens

Pac has diagnosed depression and anxiety and takes meds for it

Cellbit and Roier met when they were called to the school because Richas and Bobby had a fight

Fit figured out he was gay when he was in his teens, but didn't accept it until he was in his late twenties/early thirties

Roier does drag, aka Melissa

Quackity HATES Chayanne, and the feeling is mutual with Chayanne. Their hate-relationship started since Chayanne was a toddler

Missa works in a really famous orchestra, which means he often has to travel around for concerts, leaving his family behind for long periods of time

The first few weeks after Pac was alone in his new apartment for the first time, he fell into a rough depressive episode. He slowly got better after adopting Xereta

Ramón's special interest is the Krebs Cycle. Fit has no idea when, what, or how his son even learned what the krebs cycle is, but he's happy to listen Ramóns infodumps

After Pac and Mike immigrated from Brazil, Mike searched high and low for somewhere they could stay that would be cheap until they could get back on their feet. He met Bagi, who was searching for more roommates at the time. They moved in, and the Favela Five apartment was born

Death Family live in the more country side of the city, around the same area as Mike and Mine

Fit lost his arm up until the shoulder, also known as shoulder disarticulation

Pac and Mike met in the orphanage at Brazil when they were both seven and five, respectively

Fit and Phil met just when Fit was discharged and lived together as roommates until Phil met Missa

Quesadilla City is a VERY diverse city, with immigrants from all over the world having their little communities spread around. The Favela is one of the most popular communities, though!

Cellbit works at Ordo Theorita’s Publishing House, and he dreams of publishing his own thriller book in the future

Pac is transmasc, and had his top surgery in his midtwenties after the Favela Five managed to scrap enough money to pay for it

Ramón's biggest fear is his dad being lonely. His second biggest fear are heights

[sirfrogsworth]

Some of you may remember me mentioning my quest to get black cherry soda and several shipments ending in tragic bottle breakage. I have been seriously craving this soda for nearly a month now.

I contacted Boylan and accused them of shoddy shipping.

They very politely informed me it was not their shoddy shipping store on Amazon.

After some additional Amazon analysis, I felt foolish about my inaccurate accusations.

They informed me there were no local distributors of Boylan brand bottled black cherry beverages. They said they had no control over Amazon shipments and recommended I order directly from them. That would make this already pretty pricey pop about $15 more expensive after shipping and tax.

I had nearly given up.

After the $220 pizza and the $250 battery replacement and an almost assured account overdraw in my future, I'd have to wait at least until next month to satisfy my soda craving.

But when I went to my local Schnucks grocery store last night I decided to check the soda aisle to see if there were any alternatives.

My first find was Schnucks' own generic brand black cherry soda.

I have to say, that is a cute label for a generic store brand product.

After some research, I discovered this is a rebrand of a classic Vess soda. I like Vess soda! They make a wonderful cream soda concoction that my grandma used to buy whenever I would visit on the weekends. And I specifically told my mom never to buy cream soda for home because then it wouldn't be special when I had it at my grandma's house.

Sadly, I was unaware it was Vess-in-disguise and I was not trusting of a generic store-branded soda. Sometimes these low-cost rebranded items can be good, but it is always a crapshoot. I mean, their generic peas are 70 cents cheaper than Green Giant, but they are also mushy as heck. So based on my previous peas experience, there was a good chance it would taste more like black cherry cough syrup than soda.

I didn't know it was Vess, okay?

REMEMBER THE PEAS, PLEASE!

I fell into a soda research rabbit hole. Vess was acquired by a company called Cott Beverages in 1994. And Cott was then acquired by a company called Refresco in 2018. And Refresco partnered with Coca-Cola and is now their main manufacturer in the United States.

So I guess it is actually a Refresco Cott Vess Schnucks brand black cherry soda in partnership with Coca-Cola.

Capitalism is fucking weird, dude.

So the possible cough syrup RefresCoVesScnhucks was in my cart. I was considering taking the risk.

But then I noticed... the Fitz's section.

A locally owned and operated boutique soda bottler.

*heavenly music*

And do you know who owns Fitz's?

Mr. Alfred J. Fitz! (I don't actually know his first name or middle initial.)

Who founded Fitz's in 1947 as a drive-in restaurant based around his popular secret root beer recipe.

That's right. Fitz's was not enveloped by an incestuous line of conglomerates successively eating each other.

And because of that, they went out of business in 1976. The soda biz is rough if you don't have a multinational manufacturing and distribution network.

But then Fitz's was revived in 1993 by two plucky entrepreneurs who were determined to rebuild the brand using the original secret root beer recipe from Mr. Alfred J. Fitz.

Small business wins the day!

And then they sold out to The Westgate Group in late 1999.

Which then sold it again to Clayton Capital Partners in 2003.

Will capitalism please stop fucking with soda?

But then one of those plucky entrepreneurs thought the brand was being damaged by soulless investment firms and bought back Fitz's. He restored it to glory and I'm sure he will never sell it again*. He is intent on maintaining the Fitz's tradition and image as a beloved St. Louis small business that culturally enriches our famed Delmar Loop with vintage soda bottling techniques customers can watch when they visit the Fitz's restaurant. Neat!

*Unless RefresCoVesScnhucks offers him a bunch of money.

I can't believe I forgot about Fitz's. I used their root beer as a subject for one of my favorite product photos.

To make a long story as long as humanly possible my god why are you even still reading this...

...wouldn't you know it, Fitz's makes black cherry soda!

It is delicious.

Craving accomplished.

[bad-fucking-omens]

The Witch Twin (Alec V. x OC) - Chapter 16 - Paris

Summary: When I thought about my future, I was sure that I had the rest of my life vaguely planned out.

Then, my older sister moved up from Arizona to stay with us — and turned my entire life upside down.

I had no idea just how bad it had gotten until I was standing in a castle in Italy, convinced that I was about to die.

Length: 2.8K words (Complete fic 71.8K words)

Fic warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, explicit smut (M/F), referenced/implied past child abuse, emotional manipulation by sibling

Chapter warnings: References to sex, explicit smut [M/F, P in V]

Read on AO3 or read below

16. PARIS

My wide eyes eagerly flickered around the street I walked down the Champs-Élysées. Alec was by my side, my hand held firmly in his. The sidewalk was lined with luxury, designer stores on one side and neatly trimmed, bright green trees on the other. I could see Alec watching me look around from the corner of my eye, a soft smile on his face.

We arrived in Paris early this morning. Luckily, it was a cloudy, overcast day, so we were able to walk the streets openly without having to take any precautions about hiding our glittering skin.

“God, it’s so beautiful here,” I said. I reached up and gripped his bicep with my free hand, pulling myself closer to his side. I closed my eyes as I pressed my nose to his shoulder and took a deep breath, using his scent to help calm my nearly overwhelmed mind.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you are,” Alec said.

I laughed and lifted my head up from his shoulder.

“You’re so sweet to me,” I murmured. He smiled and pressed a kiss on my temple. “Where are we going first?”

“Wherever you want, my love. It’s up to you.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere,” he confirmed.

I grinned and Alec laughed as I started to pull him towards one of the nearby stores. He stuck close to my side as I searched through the various racks of clothes and accessories in the boutique. I glanced at the price tag of a cute, pastel pink sundress that I was interested in. But when I saw the three digit number, I flinched away, grimacing.

“Don’t look at the price,” Alec murmured quietly. “If you want something, get it.”

I glanced at him. “Are you sure? It’s expensive.”

He smirked and brushed my hair behind my ear. “My sweet girl, we have more than enough money to buy every single item in this entire store, and it still wouldn’t make a dent in our fortune.”

I smiled sheepishly. Alec chuckled softly and placed a kiss on my cheek. He repeated, “Get anything you want, love.”

I continued to search through the other dresses on the rack. I could hear two store employees speaking with each other, but they were talking in French so I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I suspected that Alec understood them, though, based on the way he laughed quietly and shook his head.

A mini dress caught my eye. I took it from the rack and held it up, tilting my head slightly to the side as I examined it. The fabric was soft and silky and slid against my fingers almost as if it was liquid, and the color was a dark, blood red.

“Alec,” I called, gaining his attention, “what do you think?”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back against his chest. He lowered his head to whisper in my ear, “Buy two of them, because the first one won’t survive more than a second after you put it on, princess.”

I turned my head to look at him. A smirk curled on my lips when I saw the lust in his eyes. I turned back and plucked a duplicate dress from the rack. Alec bent his head down to brush his lips over the bite mark scar on my neck, which made me shiver. He laughed softly.

Alec followed me through the boutique, watching with a smile as I picked out one more dress — this one was a floor-length black gown that had a deep v-neck and a slit that would run up to my upper thigh — and a pair of black high heels.

One of the employees was waiting for us at the register. The blonde girl’s eyes widened when Alec handed over a black credit card — one that I knew was linked to one of the Volturi’s many bank accounts.

She asked him something in French as she folded the dresses and placed them neatly in a paper shopping bag.

‘He is so hot. I wonder if the girl with him is just a fling. . . .’

I tensed as Alec replied in French to the girl. She handed him back the card and held out the bag to him. I took it from her, narrowing my eyes as she looked Alec over appreciatively. Jealousy coursed through me. I was on the verge of pulling Alec into a fierce kiss simply to prove that he was mine and would never be hers.

As soon as we were out of the store, Alec asked worriedly, “What’s wrong, my love?”

“I could hear her thinking about how attractive you are,” I replied, my voice bitter even though I wasn’t angry with him.

“She is nothing compared to you,” Alec said softly, lifting my chin slightly. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips at his reassurance, which made him smile. He pushed my hair away from my face and kissed my forehead. “My gorgeous little mate, you are and forever will be the only one I will ever want.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

We began to walk down the street again, but then Alec stopped suddenly and looked at me.

“You heard her thoughts?”

I nodded, then furrowed my brows in confusion. “I . . . I don’t know how I did it. . . . I couldn’t hear your thoughts, just hers.”

“Hm,” Alec hummed. He squeezed my hand as we continued on our way again. “We can try to figure out why that is later, okay?”

“Yeah.” I looked up at him, smiling again. “Where to next?”

“Wherever you want, love.”

We spent the entire day shopping at the many luxury boutiques that Paris was known for. By the time we returned to our hotel suite that night, I was sure that all of the clothes I had bought would easily fill my half of the walk-in closet back in Volterra. A good portion of the clothes were from famous fashion houses — Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci — but there were also quite a few bags from smaller, more affordable stores that we had found.

I laid back on the bed, closing my eyes and humming softly. After a long moment, my eyes fluttered open and I reached my hand out towards Alec. He moved closer and took my hand, allowing me to pull him onto the bed on top of me. He brushed his lips lightly across my cheek.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I love spending time alone with you.”

“I love it, too,” he murmured.

I turned my head to look out of the window. We could see the Eiffel Tower from our room. It was all lit up, it’s bright lights twinkling like stars against the dark sky.

Alec brushed my hair away from my face and neck. He traced his fingertip lightly across my cheek. I let out a soft sigh as he started to press soft kisses across my cheek and down my jaw. His lips trailed onto my neck and I tilted my head to give him more access to my throat. He opened his mouth and just barely let his teeth scrape against my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath, fisting my hands in the silk sheets beneath our bodies. I could feel Alec smile against my neck, right over the scar from my transformation.

He slowly began to unbutton the cream-colored satin blouse I was wearing. He pushed the fabric away from my body and I slipped my arms out of the shirt, pushing it to the floor. Alec pressed kisses along the swell of my breasts, tracing the cups of my lace bra as he reached under me to deftly unhook it. He tossed the scrap of black lace to the floor before he took my nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiff nub as he gently massaged my other breasts with his hand.

“Alec,” I breathed.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as wetness pooled between my thighs. He moved his mouth to my other breasts and moved his hand down to unbutton and unzip my jeans. I helped him pull them off of my legs, along with my lacy underwear. His fingers slid between my legs, gently rubbing my clit and making me moan.

Alec pulled away from me just long enough to shed his own clothes. I sat up and, once he was naked, gently pushed him down onto the bed. I straddled his waist, smirking down at him when I saw the shocked look on his face. I rubbed my hands across his strong, bare chest while his hands settled on my thighs.

I reached down and took his hard cock in my hand. Alec’s eyes fluttered and I could feel the tension in his fingers on my legs. I slowly stroked him before I moved up the bed and slid down onto him.

My breath caught in my throat when I fully sank down onto him. Alec groaned and his grip on my thighs grew tighter. For a few seconds, I stayed completely still, just letting myself adjust to the stretch of him inside me while Alec caught his breath. Then, I slowly began to move my hips.

I moaned as a now familiar pressure began to build in the bottom of my belly, liquid heat spreading throughout my body from between my legs. Alec moaned with me, reaching one hand up to tangle in my hair and pull me down over his body.

Our lips clashed together and he began to thrust up into me, his other arm wrapping around my waist to help keep me exactly where he wanted me. I let him take control — I loved being able to not have to focus on anything except the pleasure coursing through my body while we had sex.

“You feel so good, my love,” Alec breathed. He pressed kisses along my cheeks and nose and jaw. “You’re taking me so well, sweet girl.”

“I love the way you feel inside me,” I whispered.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck as a shockwave of pleasure rolled through my body, moans tumbling out of my mouth.

Alec groaned and weaved his fingers into my hair, tugging my head up from his neck.

“No hiding. I want to see you come undone, pretty girl.”

I whimpered, his words sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Our crimson eyes were locked together. I gasped softly as a particularly rough thrust made stars dance on the edge of my vision. Alec’s hand moved from my hair to gently grip the back of my neck as I dropped my forehead down to rest against his.

We were enveloped by the heady scent of us. His sweet aroma of chamomile tea and lavender and sugared lemon mixed with my own decadent scent of roses and vanilla and honey. It filled my lungs and clouded my mind until the only thought my brain could form was Alec and how good it felt to have him wrapped around me and inside me.

“I love you,” I moaned breathlessly. “I love you, I love you.”

Alec’s eyes rolled back as he groaned, his grip on my waist and neck tightening as his hips began to lose their careful rhythm.

“I love you,” he murmured when he looked back at me. He brushed my hair away from my face, then trailed his fingers to my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the two fingers in my mouth and Alec groaned, “My perfect, sweet girl. . . . Let go for me, princess. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as the pressure that had been building between my thighs finally exploded. My eyes fluttered shut as my body tensed, tsunami waves of pleasure rolling through my whole body. Faintly, I heard Alec groan as he came with me.

When the intense pleasure started to wear off, I moved off of him and cuddled up against his side instead. My body was tingling pleasantly, an after-effect of my intense orgasm. Alec brushed his hand over my hair and pressed a gentle kiss to my hairline. My heart swelled with love, the way it always did when we basked in the afterglow of our intimate moments. I kissed his chest, then nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“Do you want to go anywhere or do anything tonight?” he asked softly, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger.

“What is there to do at night?”

“We could go sightseeing. A lot of the main attractions are lit at night. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame. . . . It will also be quite a bit less crowded than they are during the daytime,” he explained. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

I hummed. “Okay. I just want to spend the whole day at the Louvre tomorrow. I want to see all the exhibits.”

Alec laughed softly. “As you wish, my love.”

After we cuddled for a while longer, we got up and got dressed to go out. We spent the rest of the night walking around the beautiful city of light. Alec took me on a midnight tour of all the iconic landmarks of Paris, adding detours to his favorite hidden gems in the city as well.

There was a tiny bookstore within walking distance of the Eiffel Tower. It carried rare and special edition books that we spent a good half hour looking over. He even took me down into the catacombs, where we saw bones and skulls stacked on top of each other from the floor to the low, stone ceilings.

“This is kinda creepy but also really pretty,” I said quietly.

“Hauntingly beautiful,” Alec agreed softly.

We finally climbed out of the catacombs, emergency onto the street. Dark clouds covered the sky, giving us cover from the rising sun.

“What time does the Louvre open?” I asked.

“Nine.” Alec glanced at his watch. “If we walk there now, we will arrive just as they open the doors.”

“Perfect!” He laughed lightly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as we began to walk down the streets.

Various scents assaulted my acute nose — bread and pastries from the bakery we walked past, various flowers from the shops that were unloading their fresh deliveries, cigarette smoke from a few locals that were sitting and enjoying their morning coffee. I was getting better at not focusing on the scents, which helped me not get so overwhelmed.

Alec also took me out to hunt every other night while we were in the city. Constantly soothing the scorching flames in my throat helped keep me from losing control when we were around so many humans. I still didn’t trust myself to get too close to any humans, but Alec was always careful to keep us a fair distance away unless we absolutely needed to go near them.

I gripped Alec’s hand tightly when I saw the iconic crystal pyramid that stood outside of the museum.

“Excited, princess?” he teased gently.

“Of course! I’ve wanted to visit the Louvre since I was in middle school,” I said. I glanced at him, narrowing my eyes. “How many times have you been here?”

Alec smirked. “More than ten times, love.”

“You’re going to be my personal tour guide, then,” I ordered with a smile.

He laughed and said, “As you wish.”

We entered the museum and, as I asked, Alec took charge and began to lead me around on a tour of the exhibits. He spoke quietly in my ear, describing and detailing the history and interpretations of each painting and sculpture that we passed. Between the beautiful, inspiring artwork and his soft, entrancing voice, I knew that this would be one memory that I would truly cherish for the rest of my existence.

We finally returned to our hotel room after the sun went down. Alec followed me out onto the balcony of our suite, curling his arms around my waist as he brushed his lips against my neck. I hummed softly and tilted my head to the side, leaning back into his embrace.

“Paris has been amazing,” I murmured. “Thank you for taking me.”

“Of course, Eve.”

“Are we going to stay here for the rest of our trip?”

“If that is what you would like,” he said. “It is entirely your decision, my love.”

“I think maybe one more day here, and then go back to our cottage. I know that I’m getting better at controlling myself, but I like not having to worry about losing control.”

Alec hummed and said softly, “I understand. . . . We will leave tomorrow night, after sundown. We’ll arrive at the cottage by dawn and spend our last few weeks there.”

“Perfect,” I whispered, turning in his arms to face him. I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.

[magicalbats]

tbh thinkin abt the neuvi kinktober fic of urs... and just imagining him lockin you in a chastity belt like a meanie and not lettin you cum without him, if ever !!

Omg, anon. A few people asked for a continuation of that one and I was definitely thinking about incorporating chastity into it. 🤤 Like, in a broad sense I’m trying not to have too much overlap between kinks just to keep the prompts nice and neat, and Scara ofc took the actual chastity day, but!! I do SO love belts and cages. 💦

And with Neuvillette in particular it’s just such a good concept. I see him making a big to do about the whole affair. He’d very much treat it with the same pomp and ceremony of bestowing a crown to a princess, as if it was really something as grand as that and not the grim reality of having your cunt locked away from you. Perhaps he will bathe you in the finest soaps and oils first until you smell like the most decadent flower, the sweetest of truffles. He’ll take his time just pampering you and petting your hair while he puts tender, coaxing hands all over your body to ensure you’re sparkling clean and soft skinned going into your bridling. You’ll be gently dried with the biggest, fluffiest, softest towel you’ve ever seen while an endless rain of doting kisses is placed upon your face. Then he’ll do your hair up nice and pretty, so that you feel beautiful and spoiled when you’re wearing his belt later.

He’s picked out only the best for you, of course. Something made of finest leather for the harness that would see you kept well behaved and ever at his mercy well into the foreseeable future.

Neuvillette would assure you that it’s for the best, really, and he only does it with your wellness in mind while he quite carefully secures the straps around your waist, making sure it’s neither too tight nor too loose. Then he’d feed the seat of it up between your thighs, and you’d be so warm and pliant after all the petting and the coddling that you accept your fate without protest. At the quiet whimper you’d noise when he notches the center strap a bit too firmly, causing it to dig up into your cunt just so, he’d give you a soft shushing and a persuading string of mollifying coos to keep you nice and malleable for him. And once it’s done, and you’re safe and secure in your “pretty new belt”, he’ll dress you in the softest lace and satin that money can buy. Something girlish and gauzy. Expensive lingerie from the most exclusively chic boutiques in the city that show off the color of your nipples through sheer panels on the front and, of course, the bottom half in such a cut that it shows off your chastity to his ever watchful eyes.

Are you a pet or a doll? A captive or a willing martyr? The title itself probably doesn’t matter all that much when the end results saw you so spoiled and richly catered to. Even having your bodily autonomy taken away can easily be overlooked when he pulls you into his lap to cuddle you close and hand feed you the sweets he keeps stocked up on for good girls. And thanks to the belt he’s gifted you, the key tucked safely away deep inside a pocket, he has thoroughly ensured you will continue to remain a good girl for him no matter what nasty, unladylike thoughts might come into your head. Your compliance in the matter was guaranteed the moment he’d soundly snapped the petite lock into place.

[dipperdesperado]

is solarpunk compatible with space travel?

I am currently a big fan of solarpunk, but my first love in the world of science and science fiction was related to space travel. I realize that space travel is a very tainted concept. Our understanding of space is greatly impacted by colonialism, imperialism, and capitalism. While solarpunk feels like a response to the infinite growth mindset, space is literally described as another frontier. This may be a massive piece of copium on my part, but I wonder, can there be a solarpunk version of space travel? Is it possible to have a decolonial interest in leaving the earth? Can an understanding of the rest of the universe allow us to be in community with it more successfully? I don’t have super developed answers for this right now, but I think it could be interesting to make gestures in that direction.

One of the ways to solarpunk space could be to transition the industry and to locally scaled, community-based initiatives. Right now, space economics are deeply wedded to money and the nation-state model. Instead of a focus on scale, where there are massive agencies that decide how space technologies are explored, there could be more boutique outfits that are based in specific, human-scaled communities. This would probably not be high on the priority list of a community, but could be a nice to have once other needs are met. Maybe, if space travel needs a degree of centralization, there could be an exploration of using federation to collectively decide how to develop space programs on a regional level.

This program could be developed through an open source model, where communities have their own makerspaces and fabrication labs. People could develop and experiment with space tech, and the open source model would allow breakthroughs to be more quickly proliferated. One of the most important things for a solarpunk space program would be that bottom-up, equity-centered approach.

Due to space programs being couched in hegemonic modes of operation, the process tends to be very wasteful. From all of the debris in the atmosphere, to the motivations of various space movements themselves, there is a lack of critical analysis of domineering systems. For space to get solarpunk’d, the economies of creating spaceships and the like would have to be circular, with making sure that there is minimal impact on our environment, moving us towards a degrowth orientation. Even life support systems and on-mission resource management should have a regenerative focus.

The main thing to focus on is the needs and wants of communities. Governments and corps should not dictate what going to space looks like. The design of spaceships and habitats should be participatory. Everyone who has interest should be able to contribute, and anything developed should have a communal focus. In other words, these projects would not just be the machinations of a single eccentric.

This ain’t to say that it’ll be easy. A community-driven space program is hard to imagine, when space travel lives in a very imperial, statist milieu. Maybe we can look at Earth-bound advancements for inspiration. On Earth, we can see the potential for decentralized production, cooperative ownership, and ecological communities. Looking at space through this lens has a lot of potential in my mind.

We can use solarpunk principles to move towards the future in ways that are truly inspiring and ecologically sound. Collective and individual creativity can be harnessed to great ends. So. Can solarpunks go to space? I, selfishly, hope so! But it would have to be to the ends of connecting more with our universe (expanding our definition of nature), and improving the lives of all. We have to prioritize regeneration, equity, and community, to create a cool space program.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

The evacuation of Yellowknife ended more than a week ago, but some business owners in town say it still might put them out of business.

Judy McNicol, the owner of Iceblink clothing boutique in downtown Yellowknife, said the three-week evacuation order is the worst disruption her business has suffered in the 10 years she's been open.

"I'm trying to look at every angle, I'm trying to remain positive about how we can remain financially viable, [but] it doesn't seem possible," she said.

She estimates that she lost about $40,000 in revenue during the evacuation. Now, she has thousands of dollars of bills due and no money to pay them. She has business insurance, but is hoping not to use it because of how it might affect her premiums in the future, and because of how long the process is likely to take.

A few weeks ago, the territorial government announced that businesses would be eligible for up to $5,000 in operational support to pay expenses while they were out of town. The money can be used to pay rent and utilities, but not employee salaries. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[kelyon]

Courtship 14: Bridesmaids

Lacey tells her friends about the wedding

Read on AO3

Wednesday morning, Miss French opened Game of Thorns and worked the morning shift, accompanied by the sullen, silent presence of her father. At noon, she got ready for her weekly lunch with Janine and Mara. She decided to wear all new clothes today. The future Mrs. Gold had to look her best at all times. 

She started with a tight gray pencil skirt that went down to her knees. At Modern Fashions, she had managed to find thick socks that went up to her thighs but didn’t connect in the middle. That would keep her warm while still following Mr. Gold’s rule about having as little as possible covering her up. The socks were boring black, so she livened up the look with a pair of burgundy leather boots. Her top was a luscious maroon, almost see-through if she didn’t wear a camisole underneath. She had camisoles now, five of the same shirt in different colors. Once, that would have been an unthinkable luxury.

The only thing she didn’t have new was underwear. Modern Fashions had a limited selection of black and beige granny panties, and the bras were equally dumpy. Miss French deserved something more interesting than that. Well, Mr. Gold deserved something more interesting than that. She had been waiting for the right opportunity to visit Mara’s lingerie boutique. Maybe today, after lunch, after she picked up her birth control from the pharmacy. 

Leaning into her mirror to put makeup on, Miss French tried not to contemplate what being on birth control would mean for her. Of course she didn’t want kids now, so Mr. Gold was right to stop that process before it could start. But she had always thought that she’d have children someday. Some nebulous future after college and a career and a husband and a house. Of course, those blurry dreams always had Mom around, enjoying being a grandmother.

“Fuck!” She’d stabbed herself with her eyeliner pencil. Tears welled up in her eyes and she quickly blotted them with toilet paper. “Fucking cheap shit.”

She would get new makeup at the pharmacy. Mr. Gold had given her enough money for it. She’d buy out the whole department, get the most expensive brands in every color they had. 

Blinking and squinting, Miss French salvaged the rest of her eye makeup. Examining herself in the mirror, she looked good. She looked like Miss French, like the future Mrs. Gold. This was her first time showing off this side of herself to the big wide world. She’d better make a damn good impression.

****

This time, it was Mara who was first at Granny’s. When she saw Miss French from across the diner, she mimed a face of shock and awe. 

“You look so good!” she said. “What’s going on? Do you have a business meeting later? Are you pitching Game of Thorns to some venture capitalists in Boston?”

“No, nothing like that,” Miss French laughed. She took off her hat and new coat, but left her gloves on. “I do have good news, but I want to wait until Janine gets here before I say anything.”

They didn’t wait long. Janine burst in, her salon smock peeking out from underneath her parka. After a round of hugs, she slid in the booth next to Mara. 

“Hey strangers,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. The month started yesterday and I am booked.”

“Told you!” Mara said. “One week! That’s all it takes to flip your life upside down.”

Miss French laughed at that, a little too loudly. It was true! A week ago she had just finished her first date with Mr. Gold and now she was getting ready to marry him. 

“Hey.” She put her gloved hand flat on the table to get their attention. “You guys order whatever you want, okay? Full meals. It’s on me.” 

“Ooh, la di da!” Mara grinned. “Does this have to do with your good news?”

“You have good news?” Janine asked. “God knows we need more of that.”

“Let’s order first.” Miss French hid her coy smile behind her menu. 

When Ruby the waitress stopped by the table, Janine and Mara both looked at her for confirmation before they ordered. She nodded enthusiastically. 

“So,” Mara said when they were done. “Spill the beans. What the heck is going on?”

Miss French took a deep breath. Her heart was racing. She tried to pretend it was just excitement, that she didn’t have a shred of fear about telling her two best friends the best news of her life. 

Slowly, deliberately, she took off first her right glove, then her left. She held out her left hand for them to see her ring. It took them a second to put the pieces together.

“Oh my God,” Janine whispered. “Did you get married?”

“Not yet,” Miss French said. “This is sort of a combination, an engagement ring and a wedding ring at the same time.”

“Wha--” Mara kept shaking her head. “When? Who?”

“There’s a man that I’ve been dating for a while. I wasn’t sure what it was so I didn’t want to tell you guys, but then on Sunday he proposed.”

“Oh my God!” Janine squealed. “That’s amazing! But I can’t believe you didn’t tell us! You sneak!” 

“It all happened pretty fast,” Miss French admitted. 

“How fast?” Mara asked. “How long have you had a secret lover?”

Miss French giggled. “Not too fast. I know getting married is a big step, but I really think I’m ready for it. And of course I want you two to be my bridesmaids.”

“Oh, Lacey!” Janine’s smile filled up her face. “Of course! God, we used to dream about being in each other’s weddings!”

“Have you set a date yet?” Mara asked. “And who the heck is your husband?” 

“It’s actually coming up really fast,” Miss French said. “It’s gonna be on February twelfth, at Dodici’s.”

“Wait, the twelfth? Next Saturday?” Mara looked her up and down. “Are you pregnant?”

“No!”

“It’d be okay if you were. We’d support you.” That came from Janine, who was already supporting her mother and sister--and failing at it.

“I’m not!” Miss French repeated. “That’s not what’s going on.”

“Yeah, Uncle Moe isn’t really the shotgun type.”

“So why so fast?” Mara asked.

Miss French shrugged. “When you find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

“Who is this guy?” Mara was almost shouting now. “You never talked this way when you were dating Hunter.”

“Yeah, and Hunter was a catch,” Janine said. “Cool, rich and gorgeous? You were so lucky.”

“He was alright,” Miss French shrugged. “But I’m doing a lot better than Hunter now.”

“A lot better with…?” 

Mara wouldn’t let this go. The fact that it was a perfectly reasonable question only made it more awkward that she didn’t want to answer. For just a few more minutes, she wanted to bask in her friends’ celebration. She wanted to stay in the fantasy that they would embrace and support her and the man she chose to marry. That they would have no reason not to. 

She got a break when Ruby came back with their lunches. The waitress set their orders down, made sure everything was correct, and went on her way.

“I’m serious, Lacey,” Mara said as she took a bite of her lobster roll. “If you don’t tell us who you’re marrying, I’m gonna drag you into the harbor by your nostrils and stick you under water until you do.”

Miss French smiled sheepishly, and added extra pickles to her burger. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

“Why would we freak out?” Janine cut into her lasagna. 

“Well, my dad freaked out when I told him. So did my uncle Manny.”

“Yeah, well they’re old farts,” Mara said. “We’re the hip, cool, new generation. And we’re your friends, so we’re on your side no matter what.”

“Really?” Lacey’s heart leapt to her throat..

“Yeah!” Mara said. Janine nodded her agreement. 

“Okay,” Miss French took a deep breath. “And just… understand that this isn’t as bad as you might think it is.”

“Why all these cautions?” Mara asked. “Did you sell your soul to Lucifer or something?”

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s not like that. It’s… It’s Mr. Gold.”

There was a moment’s silence. 

Janine’s eyebrows furrowed. “What about Mr. Gold?”

“It’s him. He’s the man. I’m… going to marry him.”

Her friends’ expressions were exactly the same: Shock giving way to horror and sorrow. Janine set her fork down and looked at her lasagna like she had found a severed thumb inside it. Mara kept trying to say something and kept failing. 

“W-W-W-Why?” she finally managed. “Lacey, are you okay? Does he have something over you? You know you have options. You can go to Sheriff Graham. Do you need us to give you money?”

“You don’t have money,” Miss French said coolly. “And I told you, this isn’t a bad thing. I like Mr. Gold. I want to marry him.”

“You--you can’t,” Janine sounded like she was about to cry. “He’s so old. And he’s so horrible.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“You can only say that because you don’t owe him money.” 

“No, I owe him more than that,” she said. “He’s given me things you can’t even imagine. And I love it. I want more of it. I’m going to marry him and I want you guys to be there with me. Please.”

Mara set down her lobster roll. She seemed to have put together where all this newfound cash was coming from. 

“He’ll pay for your dresses!” Miss French tried. “And Janine, you can do my hair! Do one of those crazy updos you like to do? I’ll pay you for your time!”

“Lacey,” her cousin whispered. 

“Me being in this position will be a good thing for all of us,” she went on. “Mr. Gold throws money at me, I can pass it on! I can help you guys!”

“Oh my God, he pays you?” Disgust painted Mara’s face. “And you take it?”

“Yeah, I take everything he gives me,” Miss French snapped. “Take it any way he wants me to.”

“And you’re proud of this?” Mara shook her head. “Lacey, don’t you know what this makes you?”

“A whore,” Miss French said bluntly. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m marrying him, so I won’t be a whore anymore.”

“What will you be?” Mara went on. “You think people will call you any less of a golddigger just because you’re wearing a ring? Do you think he won’t know you’re bought and paid for? Lacey, he’ll use that as an excuse to do anything to you!”

“That’s what I’m hoping for!”

“I mean he’ll treat you like shit. This is a classic recipe for you being in danger.”

“I’m not in danger.” She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Gold isn’t a monster. He’s just a man who gets what he wants--and right now, he wants me! I think that’s great!”

Janine seemed to have shut down for a few minutes. When she finally looked up, her sky blue eyes were full of tears. “You’ll be a totally different person once you’re married to him. You’re already different.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Miss French said sharply. “I want to be different. I want to be better. Mr. Gold is my ticket to an actual life and not just scraping by to survive all the time. And I can find ways to take you with me! He told me he wants me to take care of you two. We can do this together!”

“Do you mean…?” Mara made a face. 

“No! No, of course not.”

“He’ll ask for something like that,” Janine said. “You know a man like that is probably some kind of pervert.”

“He’s the best kind of pervert,” Miss French told them proudly. “He’s the kind of pervert I’m into.” 

“Oh my God.” Janine covered her mouth with her hand. “How could you do this, Lacey?”

Defeated, Miss French slumped in her booth. “Why did I think you two would be different? Like, I understand my dad going apeshit because I’m having sex with a man he personally hates, but I thought you guys would get it.”

“He’s a bad man,” Janine whispered. “He’ll make you do bad things.”

She scoffed. “You sound like a child. That’s how Chloe would understand the world.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mara said. “I don’t think this relationship is good for you, and I know that being married to him will be worse. Worse for you, Lacey. He will hurt you!”

“That’s what I get off on,” Miss French said in a catty stage whisper. “I like the way Mr. Gold treats me. I want to be the person he thinks I can be.”

“Oh God!” Janine said again. She pushed herself away from the table and ran crying into the bathroom.

Mara gave her a withering look, then ran after her friend.

Miss French stayed where she was. She ate her burger, and waited for them to come back. They would come back. If nothing else, they wouldn’t waste a free lunch. 

Would they?

After waiting for half an hour, she tossed a fifty on the table and left. 

****

She stormed the short walk from Granny’s to Dark Star Pharmacy. Those fucking bitches. Those small-minded, puritanical idiots! Couldn’t they see what was right in front of them? Were they so blinded by hate and fear that anything to do with Mr. Gold automatically became unclean? Who were they to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? Who were they to judge her? Fucking virgins, so obsessed with being good they’d never get a chance be alive.

She ground her teeth.

It wasn’t fair. She wanted to be with Mr. Gold. He made her feel happy, he made her feel everything. Why couldn’t anyone in her life understand that? Why did gaining him mean she had to lose them?

Was it really too much to ask for both?

When she got to the pharmacy, she grabbed a basket and immediately started filling it with the most expensive things you could find in a drug store in Storybrooke. The brand-name organic lotion in all the offbeat scents? She got one of each. The salon-approved shampoo and conditioner for curly hair? Yes please! Shaving cream and razors, nail polish and face masks, she got all of it. Everything she’d ever thought was too indulgent to spend on herself. Everything she used to think she was a better person for not using. Lacey French hadn’t needed to fuss over her appearance, her brains would carry her everywhere.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore. Mrs. Gold would be a stupid slut and she’d have more luxuries than that delusional child could ever have dreamed of.

She rounded the corner and found herself in the magazine aisle. There was a girl, maybe twelve or so, with lank dark hair and owlish eyes that were too big for her face. She was staring at the magazines, at the models and celebrities with big boobs and perfect smiles. Her expression was something between rapture and starvation. 

Lacey recognized the feeling. The bone-deep hunger for the lives that you knew were fake but wanted to be real. It was frivolity and vanity, but it was also joy and glamour. To be the girl everyone looked at--or even just the girl who could fit in with the girls everyone looked at. To be wanted and idolized. To always wear the right clothes, say the right words, be the right person. To be pretty, effortlessly pretty. To sparkle and shine and feel like you can do anything.

And then to hate yourself for wanting something you’d never have. Something that no one ever really has. Even the models on the magazines don’t really live the life they’re selling. You’re smart enough to know it's a lie but you still hate yourself for not having it. You want to believe in the dream, want it so much more than anything in your real life. 

The girl looked at Miss French, head tilted, mouth open a little. The kid was dressed in loose jeans and dirty sneakers. Her top half was covered by an insulated hoodie big enough to belong to a grown man. She looked at Miss French in a form-fitting wool coat and burgundy boots. She looked at the styled hair, the makeup it had taken her half an hour to get right. 

Miss French caught the girl’s eye and winked. “It gets better,” she said. “You won’t be in middle school forever.”

Then she grabbed a copy of Vogue and a copy of Cosmopolitan and put them in her basket. It was getting heavy now, so she might as well check out. She went to the prescription pick-up counter and waited for Mr. Clark, the short little pharmacist who was always sneezing. 

“Hi!” she said when he came to the counter. It was easier now to be bright and chipper, to play the role of Mr. Gold’s fiancee. “I’m here to pick up a prescription.”

“Oh right.” Mr. Clark nodded, then turned his head to sneeze into his elbow. “Dr. Whale called me at home last night for this. He said the order came from Mr. Gold?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Miss French smiled. 

Mr. Clark gave her a puzzled look. “You’re Lacey French, right? From the flower shop? Why is Gold throwing his weight around to get you an express prescription?”

Her anger came back with a vengeance. She didn’t owe answers to a pharmacist. She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She didn’t owe anything to anyone. At that moment, something inside her turned sharp and hard and brittle. The hot lava of her rage solidified into an obsidian blade.

She smiled.

“Well you can see what the pills are, can’t you?” Her voice was cheerful and patronizing, like she was talking to a kindergartner she was trying not to murder. 

“Yeah.” The pharmacist was oblivious. He looked down at the label on the white paper bag. “It’s birth control.”

Miss French leaned over the counter to get in his snot-nosed face. “Why do you think Mr. Gold is buying me birth control? Hmm? I’ll give you a hint--it’s not so I can fuck anybody else!”

“Jesus,” he whispered. “Look, I’m sorry, I--” He turned away for another sneeze, then came back, wiping his nose. He stuck the used tissue in his pants pocket. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yeah, well you did,” Miss French said. “So why don’t you just check me out and I can move on with my life?”

The pharmacist exhaled a long breath. After a quick moment to douse his hands with sanitizer, he began to ring up her stuff.

****

As she left the pharmacy, Miss French looked down the street towards Mr. Gold’s shop. Part of her wanted to run to him. She wanted to take refuge in the steady warmth of his presence. She wanted to unburden herself, tell him what a rotten day she was having, that she’d been betrayed and abandoned by people she’d known since she was born. Maybe he would listen to her, maybe he’d have good advice. Or maybe he’d just fuck her until those bitches didn’t matter anymore. Maybe he’d punish her for needing them so much in the first place.  

But he hadn’t asked her to visit him today, and she didn’t want to interrupt his work. She couldn’t go demanding his time and attention over every little thing that bothered her. Mr. Gold was a busy man, an important man. When he focused on her, it was because she was important. She couldn’t ask for that all the time. 

Besides, she was an adult. She could deal with stuff on her own, especially this petty shit. Mr. Gold had given her money and a shadow of his power. She wore his ring and soon she would have his name. What did it matter what lesser people thought of her? What did it matter that a pharmacist gawked? What did it matter that a hairdresser and a lingerie seller might never talk to her again?

She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She had better start acting like it.