#sartorial determinism

[3liza]

i forgot about that google engineer that insisted the google AI LaMDA had "become sentient" until encountering his name in the ELIZA Effect wikipedia page. but apparently he looks like this

[hoshifighting]

Stripper! Reader x Business Man! Lee Chan

— Synopsis: Workaholic Lee Chan's Friday night takes an unexpected turn when he joins friends at a strip club, only to find himself captivated by you, a dancer he can't seem to stay away from. Despite his reservations, Chan finds himself drawn to your company, booking time with you night after night. — WC: 8.8k — WARNINGS: Strangers to lovers, smut, mentions of alcohol, strip clubs, money throwing, booking, fluff, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), riding, g'spot stimulation, clit stimulation, male sensitivity.

Lee Chan held the weight of being the CEO of the imperium that his dad left at a very young age. Frat parties, hanging out, late-night talks? Nah, not for him. He had to take care of the company and honor the inheritance that fell into his lap. His co-workers could remember very well the times that Chan walked around and around his office, shoulders tense as if he carried the world on them.

His days started early and ended late, filled with back-to-back meetings, strategy sessions, and endless paperwork. The once carefree and spirited young man had transformed into a focused and driven leader, his every move calculated to ensure the success and stability of the company.

Chan's office was a testament to his dedication—shelves lined with business books, awards, and framed photos of his father, a constant reminder of the legacy he was determined to uphold. The large windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, but Chan rarely had time to enjoy it. He was always too engrossed in his work, too preoccupied with the responsibilities that consumed his every waking moment.

Even though his life felt like being stuck in traffic on a rainy day, Chan couldn't deny that he loved the results of his hard work. He looked at the luxurious cars parked in his garage—sleek, powerful machines that represented the pinnacle of automotive engineering. 

His closet was a veritable treasure trove of sartorial excellence. Different types of watches, ties, suits, and shoes from every high-end brand imaginable filled the space, each piece carefully chosen to reflect his impeccable taste and status. The feel of finely crafted leather shoes, the weight of a bespoke suit on his shoulders, the precision of an intricate timepiece on his wrist—all these were constant reminders of what he had achieved.

Chan's wealth allowed him to indulge in the kind of extravagances most people could only dream of. He could spend an exaggerated amount of money in a matter of seconds on something completely futile, like a super shaver with a gold coating—exotic and utterly unnecessary.

The week was ending, and Chan listened to the fuss inside his friend group about hanging out this Friday. Jeonghan, seeing his colleagues leaving their desks, noticed Chan still at his desk, tapping his fingers on the glass table. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Jeonghan approached him.

"I know it's a stupid question, but will you come with us?" he asked. Chan was usually seen only at corporate events. Jeonghan couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a beer with his friend.

Chan looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, the automatic refusal ready on his tongue, but something made him pause. He glanced around the office, now emptying out as people headed off to start their weekends. The thought of another solitary night of work made him feel a twinge of longing for something different.

"Come on, man," Jeonghan urged, sensing the hesitation. "Just one night. It’ll be fun. You need a break."

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Jeonghan was right. The constant grind was wearing him down, and maybe, just maybe, a night out with friends was exactly what he needed.

"Alright," Chan finally said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll come."

Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"

Chan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah, let's do it."

Jeonghan grinned, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit! You won't regret it."

Before they left the building, Chan paused and asked, "Jeonghan?"

"Yes?" Jeonghan answered, turning to face him.

"Where are we going?" Chan inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Jeonghan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You'll see," he said, leaving Chan to wonder what the night had in store for him.

[...]

"A strip club? You must be kidding me!" Chan exclaimed as he took in the sight of the half-dark establishment. Neon lights flickered and danced around the room, casting colorful glows on the walls. Music blasted from speakers, filling the air with a pulsating beat.

He could see several women with different curves, colors, and hairstyles, dressed in scanty outfits—or sometimes nothing at all. The atmosphere was electric, a stark contrast to the corporate environment he was used to.

Jeonghan laughed, clapping Chan on the back. "Come on, man, loosen up! It's just for fun."

Chan hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. He felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity. "I don't know, Jeonghan..."

"Relax," Jeonghan said, guiding him further inside. "We all need a break sometimes. Just enjoy the night. You deserve it."

Chan took a deep breath, deciding to go along with it. Maybe Jeonghan was right—maybe he did need this. As they found a spot to sit, Chan tried to shake off his reservations.

His friends immediately ordered bottles and bottles of soju, beer, whiskey—whatever the bar had. Chan downed his whiskey in a single gulp, exclaiming, "If my dad knew I was here..."

Chan's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Jeonghan replied, pouring more whiskey into Chan's glass. "He said every hardworking man deserves a break. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"

Chan couldn't help but laugh at that. The thought of his father, the man he idolized for his strict work ethic, letting loose in a place like this was almost too surreal. 

As some of his friends disappeared one by one, Chan found himself alone on the couch they had booked. "Great," he muttered under his breath, feeling a twinge of discomfort at being left alone in such a place.

Just as he was about to sink further into the cushions, the little stage that he hadn't even noticed until now suddenly lit up. A tall pole stood in the middle, and Chan tilted his head in curiosity.

Then, a pair of really, really high heels appeared, and Chan's throat went dry. You emerged onto the stage, your skin shining under the purple light. The outfit you wore was scandalous, barely covering anything, and Chan couldn't help but notice the little glitters spread on your skin, catching the light as you moved.

You took hold of the pole and began to dance around it, moving with a grace and confidence that left Chan mesmerized. Your movements were fluid and controlled, every sway of your hips and arch of your back drawing him in deeper. It was as if you were performing just for him, and Chan felt like he could get lost in the rhythm of your dance forever.

As you held yourself up on the pole like a pro, Chan couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt like he was being swallowed by the couch, completely captivated by the sight before him. In that moment, nothing else mattered but you and the hypnotic spell you cast over him with your dance.

As you made eye contact with Chan, a devilish smile played on your lips. He looked like a new piece of meat, a pretty young man who had never been seen before in the club. You got down from the stage, the sway of your hips drawing all eyes to you as you walked towards him.

"First time here, sweetie?" you asked, laying your hands on his shoulders. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe with the view of your tits practically in his face.

"My eyes are up here," you said, chuckling as you caught him ogling your chest.

Chan blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, tearing his gaze away from your cleavage. "First time."

You chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you leaned in closer. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to show you the ropes," you said, your voice low and sultry.

"You're tense," you observe, noticing the stiffness in Chan's shoulders. Without waiting for a response, you step behind him and begin to massage his shoulders, your fingers working their magic as you knead the tension away.

Chan lets out a sigh of relief, his muscles melting under your skilled touch. "Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "Work's been... stressful lately."

You nod in understanding, continuing to work out the knots in his shoulders. "I get it," you say, your voice soothing. "But you're here now, and tonight is all about letting go of that stress and just enjoying yourself."

Chan leans back into your touch, closing his eyes as he relaxes into the sensation. "I guess you're right," he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You smile too, glad to see him starting to unwind. "That's better," you say, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his skin. "Just focus on the here and now. Forget about everything else for a while."

Chan nods.

You walk around Chan again, swaying your hips seductively in front of him. His mind races, unsure of what to do next, but before he can even think, you're sitting on his lap, circling your hips against his.

Chan smiles shyly, feeling the heat from your body as you move against him. He can't help but notice the money tucked into the sides of your little shorts, a reminder of where he is and what's expected of him.

It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once, but there's something undeniably thrilling about having you so close, your body pressed against his.

As you continue to dance, Chan's hands hover uncertainly over your hips, unsure of where to touch or how to respond. He feels a flush of embarrassment at his own inexperience, but he's determined not to let it show. Instead, he focuses on the way your body moves against his.

And you smile knowingly, sensing his hesitation, and guide his hands to your waist, encouraging him.

Chan's hands move from your waist to your hips and then down to your thigh, his fingers grazing the soft skin as he explores the contours of your body. His pulse quickens as he feels the warmth of your thigh pressed against his pocket, and he can't resist the urge to reach into his wallet and retrieve a pouch of money.

With a mischievous grin, Chan brings his hand to the top of your head, letting the notes rain down on you like confetti. You laugh, delighted by the unexpected gesture, and give him a big smile.

"What's your name?" you ask, your voice playful.

"Chan," he replies, feeling a surge of confidence.

You lick your lips, your gaze lingering on his. "Nice to meet you, Channie," you purr, the nickname, and Chan blushes. 

[...]

The next Monday, Chan sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. His mind raced with a million thoughts, his thoughts still consumed by the events of that night. He was lost in his own thoughts, replaying every moment, every touch, every glance.

A knock on his door startled him out of his trance, and he quickly tried to compose himself, pretending to be engrossed in some papers spread out on his desk.

"Come in," Chan called, his voice slightly shaky.

The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped inside, giving Chan a knowing smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Chan felt a flush of embarrassment heat his cheeks. "Oh, hey Jeonghan," he replied, trying to sound casual.

Jeonghan chuckled, walking over to Chan's desk and leaning against it casually. "So, how was your night?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Chan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a suitable response. "Um, it was... interesting," he finally managed, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, huh?" he said, his tone teasing. "Well, if you ever need any pointers on how to navigate the world of strip clubs, you know who to ask."

Chan's cheeks burned even hotter, and he couldn't help but laugh at Jeonghan's playful teasing. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass," he said, relieved to have the topic of conversation shifted away from his night of unexpected adventure.

Chan spent the entire weekend consumed by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memories of your encounter at the club. As Monday rolled around, he found himself itching to see you again, the usual routine of work feeling dull and uninspired.

Deciding that today was not the day for extra hours at the office, Chan made his way to the club, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He arrived at the club, his eyes scanning the room eagerly in search of you.

As he looked around, a receptionist approached him, sensing his lost expression. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite and friendly.

Chan nodded, grateful for the assistance. "Yes, I'm looking for a girl with hair like this," he said, mimicking the length and curl of your hair with his hands.

The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you must be looking for Y/N," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Follow me, I'll take you to her."

There you were, dancing around the pole with a big smile on your face, as if you were truly enjoying every second of it. Chan watched from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and a big smile on his face as he observed you.

The club was crowded, with many people gathered around you, admiring your performance. Chan felt a pang of jealousy as he watched others vying for your attention, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

As the night wore on and people began to leave, Chan noticed you finally catching sight of him. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a playful wink, rolling your hips as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

Chan's heart skipped a beat at your playful gesture, and he couldn't help but grin back at you. Despite the crowd around you, it felt like you were dancing just for him, and in that moment, Chan felt a surge of warmth and connection unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As you took a break from dancing, you bent down to pick up some notes from the stage floor. Before you could gather them all, Chan approached, leaning on the stage with a playful grin.

"Leave it on the ground," he said, extending a big wad of money towards you. "Take it."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I didn't even have time for you today," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Did I ask?" Chan replied, his smile widening. "Take it."

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful response, taking the money from his hand. "You liked me that much, huh?" you asked, knowing full well the answer. You were well aware of the power you held.

"Hmm, I think I need to see more," Chan teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You giggled, enjoying the banter between you. "Well, if you want me all to yourself, you'll have to book," you replied with a playful wink.

Chan's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Can I book all of your agenda?" he asked eagerly.

You stood up, giving him a coy smile. "Don't be greedy, Channie," you teased, enjoying the way he looked at you with eager anticipation.

You glanced down at the wad of money in your hand, barely able to fit into your shorts, and then looked back up at Chan with a playful smile.

"Well, I think I can spare some time for you," you said, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "But just a little while."

Chan's face lit up with excitement as he nodded eagerly. "That's all I need," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

[...]

As Chan began appearing almost every day, he became a familiar face at the club, a quiet yet eager client of yours. The receptionist would often give you a knowing look, silently conveying that Chan had arrived and had booked time with you once again.

Of course, there were other loyal clients who frequented the club, but none seemed to hold the same level of fascination for you as Chan did. There was a certain shine in his eyes whenever he entered the club, a distinct aura of anticipation and eagerness that set him apart from the other customers.

You couldn't help but wonder why you had let him know about the option to book time with you. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you with such genuine interest and excitement, or maybe it was the thrill of having someone so captivated by your presence. Whatever the reason, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, eager to see where each encounter would lead.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise when Chan didn't show up for his usual visit. It was as if a small piece of the excitement and anticipation that had become a part of your routine was suddenly missing. Without even realizing it, you found yourself scanning the crowd, searching for his familiar face.

Then, just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you spotted him entering the club. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him make his way to his special seat, right in front of you. His genuine smile lit up his face, and you couldn't help but smile back, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a wave.

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, you danced with even more passion and heart than before. You knew that Chan was watching, appreciating every move, every moment. 

Over the following weeks, Chan's visits became a cherished routine. Each time he arrived, you could sense the anticipation in his eyes, the unspoken hope that maybe tonight would be different.

One evening, as you were finishing your performance and making your way to his table, he finally mustered the courage to ask. "Hey, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime? Outside of here, I mean," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth and a hint of nervousness.

You smiled softly, appreciating his boldness but knowing you had to set boundaries. "I'm flattered, Chan, but I don't hang out with customers outside of work," you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

A few nights later, he tried again, this time with a different approach. "There's this amazing new restaurant that just opened up downtown. I'd love to take you there," he offered, his eyes hopeful.

You shook your head slightly, maintaining your friendly demeanor. "I appreciate the invite, but I have a policy about not mixing my work life with my personal life," you explained, hoping he would understand.

Undeterred, Chan continued to ask, each time finding new ways to express his interest. "There's a gallery opening this weekend. I thought it might be fun to check it out together," he suggested one night, his enthusiasm palpable.

Once again, you gently declined. "That sounds lovely, but I really can't. I have to keep things professional with my clients," you said, feeling a pang of regret at having to turn him down yet again.

Each time he asked, you could see the slight disappointment in his eyes, but he always respected your boundaries. And despite your refusals, he never stopped coming back, never stopped watching you with that same genuine admiration and respect.

Tonight, you made sure every detail was perfect. Your hair cascaded in flawless waves, and you wore your best outfit, accentuating every curve just right. You were eager to dance for Chan, feeling a flutter of excitement as you anticipated his arrival. Sure enough, Chan appeared, booking the rest of the night with you as he had been doing lately.

When he approached, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, a small gesture that had become part of your interactions. "Hey, Channie," you said with a playful smile. "So, what’s it gonna be tonight? Shorts or no shorts?"

Chan smiled warmly, a bit of that usual nervous energy in his eyes. "Actually," he began, his tone softer than usual, "I just want to talk tonight. I want to spend time with you."

You blinked, taken aback. No customer had ever asked for just your company before. "You... you just want to talk?" you repeated, making sure you heard him right.

He nodded, a sincere expression on his face. "Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love watching you dance. But tonight, I just want to get to know you better. You know, beyond all this," he gestured vaguely around the club.

Still processing his request, you motioned to the couch. "Alright, let's sit then." You both settled onto the plush seats, the atmosphere suddenly feeling more intimate and less transactional.

"So, what do you want to know?" you asked, trying to mask your nervousness with a casual tone.

Chan leaned forward slightly, his eyes earnest. "Everything. What's your favorite color? What's your dream vacation? What do you do when you're not here?" He paused, then added with a chuckle, "I know it sounds silly, but I really want to know the real you."

You smiled, touched by his genuine curiosity. "Well, my favorite color is …" you began, feeling a bit shy. "As for a dream vacation, I've always wanted to visit Santorini. The pictures look so beautiful, like a place out of a fairytale."

Chan listened intently, his focus unwavering. "Santorini sounds amazing. I can picture you there."

You chuckled, the image of you in Santorini bringing a warm feeling to your chest. "And when I'm not here, I love to paint. It's my way of unwinding, letting my creativity flow."

His eyes lit up. "Painting? That's incredible. What kind of things do you paint?"

You shrugged lightly, feeling more comfortable as the conversation flowed. "Mostly landscapes and abstract pieces. It's like putting a piece of my soul onto the canvas."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, both of you absorbing the depth of the conversation. Chan finally broke it, his voice soft. "You know, I've always admired how dedicated you are to what you do, I know it's now easy at all. But hearing about your passions and dreams, it makes me admire you even more."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself opening up more than you had with anyone in a long time. "Thank you, Chan. It means a lot to hear that."

He reached out, gently squeezing your hand. "Thank you for sharing with me. I know this isn’t what you usually do, but it means a lot to me."

Chan observed the small figurine on the table, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Where do you get these?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look.

You smiled, a bit shyly. “I make them myself,” you said, enjoying the surprise that flickered across his face.

“Really? That’s amazing,” he praised, his admiration evident. You shrugged modestly.

“It’s not that hard,” you replied, still smiling. “They’re always small.”

Chan chuckled, a warm sound that made you feel even more at ease. He started to remove his blazer, and before you knew it, he placed it gently around your shoulders, covering a good part of you. The gesture was so kind and considerate that it made you feel even more comfortable, despite usually feeling at ease in your usual skimpy outfits.

As you nestled into the blazer, you couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease you felt. Chan’s presence was different; it wasn’t just about the physical attraction or the lavish spending. There was a gentleness, a genuine care that made you feel safe and valued.

“I don’t usually do this,” you admitted, looking at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Chan smiled back, his eyes soft. “It’s my pleasure. You deserve to feel comfortable.”

The conversation flowed easily as Chan began to share bits and pieces of his life. He spoke about his responsibilities as CEO, the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy, and the sacrifices he had to make. His words were carefully chosen, mindful of not coming across as boastful despite his affluent lifestyle. You could tell he was trying to be as honest as possible while downplaying the extravagance.

“And that’s pretty much my life,” Chan concluded with a slight sigh. “It’s demanding, but it’s what I have to do.”

You admired his humility, realizing how grounded he remained despite his wealth. “It sounds like a lot to handle,” you said softly, your eyes reflecting your newfound respect for him. “But you do it so well. It’s impressive.”

Chan’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and weariness in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but I try.”

“You’re more than just a pretty boy,” you teased lightly, wanting to lift the mood. “You’re a hardworking, humble man.”

He laughed, the sound filling the space between you with warmth. “And you’re not just a beautiful dancer. You’re talented and creative.”

[...]

The next morning, you were chatting with the girls—your coworkers—as they finished their hair for the night.

“And he just wanted to talk,” you said, a bit incredulously. “He even asked about my favorite color.”

The girls collectively let out a heartfelt “Awww,” their eyes wide with interest and affection.

“Seriously?” one of them, Mina, asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That’s so sweet.”

“He seems different,” another added, giggling.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still a bit surprised yourself. “We just talked. It was...nice.”

Before the conversation could continue, the receptionist entered the room, a knowing smile on her face. “Ya! Y/N-nie! Your Channie is here,” she announced, her tone teasing.

It was unusual for any customer to visit on a Saturday morning, a time usually reserved for the staff to unwind and prepare for the week ahead. 

“It’s Saturday morning,” Mina whispered, nudging you playfully. “No customers come in unless they lost something.”

“Let him in,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual but feeling the flutter of anticipation.

As Chan walked in, he was met with a scene unlike the usual vibrant atmosphere of the club. The girls were dressed in comfortable clothes, some with bobs in their hair, others doing their nails or simply lounging around.

You were drying a glass behind the bar. He looked around, slightly surprised but smiling.

“Good morning, girls,” he greeted, his voice cheerful. "Good morning Y/N…" He says in a special and tender tone, just for you.

“Good morning,” the girls chimed back in unison, their eyes following his every move.

You put down the glass and walked over to him, a wide smile on your face. “Channie, what are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I wanted to see you,” he replied, his gaze soft and sincere. He seemed a bit out of place in the relaxed environment, but his presence was a welcome one. You could feel the girls watching the exchange with rapt attention, like they were watching an opera unfold.

Chan noticed that you didn’t have bobs in your hair like some of the other girls. Gesturing toward your hair, he asked, “No bobs for you today?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s my day off. I’m not dancing today.”

The girls exchanged knowing looks, some stifling giggles. One of them, Lisa, leaned over and whispered loudly enough for you to hear, “Looks like someone’s here to see you even when you’re not performing.”

You blushed, glancing at Chan, who seemed equally flustered but amused by the comment. He recovered quickly, his smile returning.

Chan stood there, his eyes filled with hope and a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to spend the day with me?" he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

You chuckled, a playful glint in your eye. "Hmm, I've already told you about hanging out with my customers," you teased, enjoying the banter.

Before Chan could respond, Mina chimed in from the background, her voice filled with encouragement. "Oh, come on! You should accept it!"

Chan seized the opportunity, smiling wider. "You’re not on your work schedule now, are you?"

That shut your mouth, leaving you momentarily speechless. The girls burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Well, when you put it that way…” you trailed off, pretending to think it over.

Chan’s smile grew, sensing victory. “So, is that a yes?”

You sighed theatrically, then grinned. “Fine, you win. I’ll spend the day with you.”

“Great!” Chan said, visibly relieved and excited. “I promise it’ll be fun.”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Let me just finish up here, and we can go.”

As you gathered your things, the girls couldn’t resist a few more teasing comments, but it was all in good fun, as Chan waited patiently.

As the day unfolded, Chan took you to places you hadn't had the time to visit in years. You sipped coffee at a cozy café, strolled through the park, and even caught a movie at the cinema. With each passing moment, you found yourself enjoying his company more and more, feeling a sense of freedom and joy you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"This has been the best day off ever," you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you walked side by side with Chan.

His heart swelled with happiness at your words, his smile growing wider. He could have taken you to a luxurious restaurant or shopping for designer labels, but he sensed that wasn't what you wanted. Instead, he decided to let you choose how to spend the rest of the day.

Careful to open doors for you and ensure your comfort, Chan drove you around in his luxurious car, enjoying each other's company and the simplicity of the moment. As he glanced at you from the driver's seat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him.

"Where to next?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

You playfully pretended to ponder your options, teasing him about having more surprises up his sleeve. Chan laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he drove. You noticed that you were nearing your apartment, and the idea popped into your head.

"How about we go to my place?" you suggested, surprising even yourself with the invitation.

Chan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Your place? Are you sure?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building in your chest. "Yeah, why not? I'd love for you to see where I live."

Chan couldn't hide his delight at your invitation, his curiosity piqued. He parked the car and walked with you to your apartment building, taking in the surroundings with interest.

Chan's eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the details of your life that adorned the walls. He saw framed photographs capturing cherished memories – graduations, family gatherings, outings with friends. The images painted a picture of a life rich in experiences and relationships.

His gaze shifted to the plushies scattered across the couch, a playful and endearing touch that brought a smile to his face. It was clear to him that you had a warmth and sweetness that extended beyond the confines of the club where he first met you.

As you disappeared into the kitchen, Chan took a moment to soak in the atmosphere of your home. The tranquility of the space, combined with the personal touches that reflected your personality, made him feel strangely at ease.

In that moment, he realized that he was seeing a side of you that few others had the privilege of witnessing – the real you, beyond the glamorous facade of the club.

As you settled back onto the couch with snacks in hand, Chan joined you, his presence filling the space with warmth. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he began recounting his visit to the strip club earlier that day.

You listened intently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he shared the details of his adventure. When he mentioned Jeonghan's involvement, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your friend for unknowingly setting this day in motion.

"Looks like I owe Jeonghan a big thank you," you said, your voice muffled as you took a bite of your snack. 

Chan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, Jeonghan is the reason we met, huh?" he teased, leaning closer to you.

You chuckled, feeling a playful energy between you. "Looks like it," you replied, unable to suppress a smile.

Chan's teasing grin widened at your response, and he leaned in closer, his playful demeanor evident. "Oh, so you're thanking Jeonghan, but not me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation.

With a soft smile, you turned to Chan, gratitude evident in your eyes. "Thank you, Channie," you said, your voice sincere as you expressed your appreciation.

Chan returned your smile, his gaze warm as he listened to your words. "For what?" he asked, though he already had a feeling of what you meant.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. "For everything," you began, your tone heartfelt. "For the moments we've shared, the conversations we've had... Even on the nights you booked me, we talked more than danced," you admitted, a fondness evident in your voice.

Chan's smile widened at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I guess I'm just a talkative guy," he joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.

Chan's touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on your lips with a mixture of hesitation and longing. You could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken desire hanging in the air.

When he spoke your name, you couldn't help but respond with a soft sound of acknowledgment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. His next words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice barely above a whisper as he confessed his thoughts.

"I know it's not allowed to kiss the dancers in the club," he began, his words laden with a sense of urgency, "but... we're not in the club right?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. In that moment, the boundaries that had separated you in the club seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, alone in the intimacy of your shared space.

You met Chan's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you considered his words. Despite the rules and restrictions that governed your interactions in the club, here, in this moment, you felt a freedom that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

With a hesitant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, "No, we're not in the club." And in that simple acknowledgment, you gave voice to the unspoken truth that had been lingering between you all along.

Chan's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips crashed into yours. His tongue explored your mouth with a fervent passion, and you found yourself breathing hard, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt to deepen the kiss.

The truth was, the more you refused Chan's invitations to dinner, the more you denied the gifts he insisted on giving you, the more you avoided his attempts to kiss you—his feelings for you only grew stronger. And now, seeing his insistence on simply having your company, and not just as the girl who would entertain him at night, made you feel all your girlhood feelings again.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you looked into his eyes, your breath mingling with his. "Chan..." you whispered "Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep trying so hard?"

He held your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and tenderness. "Because you matter to me, Y/N. More than just a dancer, more than just a pretty face. I see you, the real you, and I want to know you better."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a rush of warmth and affection for this man who saw beyond the surface. "But I'm not used to this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not used to someone caring this much."

Chan's grip on your neck tightened slightly, a comforting reassurance. "Then let me show you how it feels. Let me show you that you deserve to be cared for, to be cherished."

"Show me," you whisper, your eyes locked on Chan's lips. He captures your mouth in a passionate kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it over your head. You pull him closer, desperate to feel him, your hands sliding under his shirt to caress his warm skin.

His hands slide to your thighs, lifting you onto his lap, your breasts now level with his face. He glances at the pretty lace bra you’re wearing and lowers the cups, exposing your nipples. He kisses each one tenderly before sucking on one and pinching the other. You melt into him, your hips grinding against his automatically, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

"Do you know how hard it was to control myself when you grinded on my cock like this?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

A wicked smile crosses your lips as you continue to grind against him, feeling his erection growing beneath you. "I could feel it, Chan," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "I could feel how much you wanted me. I wanted you just as badly."

His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he presses you harder against him. "God, Y/N, you drive me crazy," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust.

You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "I want to feel you inside me, Chan. I want you to lose control. Show me how much you want me."

His control snaps, and he flips you onto your back, his body pressing you into the couch. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," he growls, his hand sliding down to unbutton your pants.

"I know exactly what I want," you whisper back, your eyes burning with the same desire. "I want you, all of you."

Chan's lips crash into yours again, more fiercely this time, as his hands work to remove the rest of your clothing.

In a blur of movement, clothes are discarded, and his skin is pressed against yours. He pauses to look into your eyes. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need.

"I want you, Chan," you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. 

Chan giggles softly, his breath hot against your skin. "Wait for me to prepare you," he whispers, his voice laced with anticipation. He opens your legs wide, his eyes dark with desire as he lowers himself between your thighs. His lips find your wet folds, kissing them gently before his tongue delves deeper.

The sensation sends shivers through your body, and you let out a soft moan. Chan's mouth works expertly, sucking on your clit while his tongue teases and explores. As you gasp his name, "Channie," he responds with a moan of his own, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

His hand slides up your thigh, and you feel the gentle pressure of his finger at your entrance. He slips it inside you slowly, his finger curling to find that perfect spot. Your back arches off the couch, your hands gripping the cushions as he continues to worship your body with his mouth and fingers.

"Oh, Chan," you breathe, your voice quivering with need. The way his tongue moves, the way his finger pumps in and out of you—it's all too much. Your hips begin to move on their own, seeking more of the intense pleasure he's giving you.

He adds another finger, stretching you gently, and your moans grow louder. His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue in a rhythm that drives you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

Chan's free hand comes up to hold your hip, steadying you as you writhe beneath him. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust and admiration, and the sight of him between your legs pushes you closer to the edge.

"Channie, I’m so close," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his mouth more insistent on your clit. The world fades away, and all you can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

With a final, deep moan, you come undone. Your body trembles, your muscles clench around his fingers, and a powerful wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Chan doesn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you're completely spent, every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.

Finally, he pulls away, his fingers and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks up at you with a triumphant smile, his own need evident in his eyes. "You taste so good," he murmurs, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only fuels the fire between you.

"Now," he says, positioning himself at your entrance, "I think you're ready."

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, and with one smooth thrust, he fills you completely. 

Your pussy was wet enough, spasming, welcoming him perfectly. Chan's eyes were closed, his face contorting as he tried to compose himself. You reached up and gently held his face, and he opened his eyes, scoffing softly, trying to pretend he didn't almost cum right then and there from the sensation of your sopping cunt wrapping so perfectly around him and the pornographic moan that just left your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good."

You smiled, your own arousal mirrored in his gaze. "Don't hold back, Channie," you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair. "I want all of you."

He groaned, his hips starting to move, slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him with each thrust. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, the connection between you deepening with every movement.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he picked up the pace. "So perfect for me."

You bit your lip, your body responding to his every word, his every touch. "Chan," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Don't stop."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rolled his hips, stopping momentarily before hitting your g'spot with a sharp thrust. He repeated this motion, each thrust more deliberate, and the most sinful moans left your mouth. "Yes, Channie," you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure, "fuck this pussy with that big fucking cock. Yes, yes!"

Chan groaned, the sound deep and guttural, spurred on by your words. "You like that? Hm?" he panted, his pace quickening as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. "You like how I fuck you?"

"Yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, yes, I love it. I love how you fuck me– ah! Channie."

"So wet... all for me."

Your body arched beneath him, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building to an overwhelming peak. "Only for you," you whispered, your voice breaking with a whimper as he drove you closer to the edge. "No one else, just you, Channie."

He growled, the possessiveness in your words igniting something primal in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Say it again," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours, Channie, only yours."

His hips snapped forward with even more intensity, and you could feel the coil tightening in your core, ready to snap. "Cum for me," he urged, his voice a low growl. "Cum all over my cock, baby."

Your pussy throbbed as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, your eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream. You wrapped your legs around Chan's waist, locking him in place as you rode out every wave of pleasure. Chan hissed, his abdomen trembling, signaling that he was on the brink of release but unable to escape your grip.

You opened your eyes to find Chan watching you intently, taking in every reaction. "Sit," you commanded, your voice breathless yet authoritative.

"Hm?" Chan responded, his expression a mix of curiosity and lingering pleasure.

"Sit," you repeated, firmer this time. He complied, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Are you going to dom me?" he teased, scoffing lightly.

Instead of answering, you simply lowered yourself onto his cock, making him flinch and let out a whiny moan in your ear, your legs trembling from the intensity of your recent orgasm.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips. 

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You like that, Channie? You like when I take control?"

"Yes," he gasped, his breath hitching as you began to move, rolling your hips slowly at first. "God, yes."

You smirked, picking up the pace, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through both of you. "You look so good like this," you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "So desperate, so needy. You want to cum, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whimper. "Please, let me cum."

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, riding him harder. "Not yet," you commanded, enjoying the power you held over him. "Not until I say so."

Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his body trembling as he tried to hold back. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."

"Look at me," you ordered, your tone firm. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "You’re going to cum when I tell you to, understand?"

"Yes," he panted, nodding eagerly. "Yes, I understand."

You imagined riding him since the moment he entered that club, young, hot, with his sleeves rolled up, the scent of masculine fragrance mingling with whiskey on his breath. Feeling this man, needy and sly, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, spilling all that pre-cum, and fighting his demons not to cum, made you so horny.

 You licked your fingers, circling your clit to help yourself climax, making you clench around him again. A strangled moan escaped his mouth, his eyes were rolling back.

You leaned in close, your voice husky with desire. "You're so close, Channie," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I can feel how badly you want to cum inside me. Do it, baby. Give it to me. Fill me up with your cum."

Chan's hips bucked against yours, his grip on your hips tightening. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I need to cum, please..."

You smirked, your fingers still working furiously on your clit. "You want to empty those balls for me, make me feel every drop of your cum inside me? Hm?"

Chan nodded frantically, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes, god, yes. Please, let me cum. I can't hold on much longer."

With a wicked grin, you increased the pressure on your clit, feeling the tension building inside you. "Then cum for me, Channie," you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. "Cum deep inside my pussy."

Chan's entire body tensed, his breath hitching as he finally let go, his cum flooding you with warmth. You cried out in pleasure, feeling your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you rode out the ecstasy together.

As you collapsed against his chest, Chan wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel your legs trembling in soreness, his cum still dripping from your pussy, and both of your bodies slick with sweat. Despite the exhaustion, Chan's embrace felt comforting and secure.

He ran his hands soothingly over your back, his touch gentle yet firm, as if trying to convey all his affection through his fingertips. You raised your head to meet his gaze, finding him looking back at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness in his eyes.

You pressed a series of soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. Chan smiled in response, his own lips curved upwards in a contented –fucked out– expression.

You summoned the last vestiges of your strength just to tease Chan, circling your hips ever so slightly, just enough to elicit a reaction from his sensitive body. 

"Wait, wait," Chan gasped, his voice strained with sensitivity. "I can't... I can't take it."

He held you firmly against him, his grip almost desperate as he tried to steady himself. The sensation of your hips circling against his heightened his arousal to a point where he felt like he might lose control at any moment.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Despite the exhaustion and the intensity of your encounter, you found his vulnerability endearing.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his labored breaths. "I couldn't resist teasing you a little."

Chan let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he spoke again.

"You're... you're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I don't know how you do it."

You grinned up at him, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. Despite the intense physical connection between you, there was an undeniable emotional bond that had formed, deepening your connection even further.

"I guess I just have a way with you," you replied playfully, winking at him before snuggling closer into his embrace.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut, rough p in v, fingering, some handjob, f!reader, spanking, semi-public sex Synopsis: you and Dabi snag an invite to a party Shigaraki's throwing. Realizing your wardrobe lacks the glam, you strong-arm your boyfriend Dabi into a shopping spree. Despite initial reluctance, he tackles things in his own, cocky style A/N: this little fic was written in honor of the birthday of my incredibly gifted mutual - @dabismoon - I hope you'll enjoy this petite one shot ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

The heap of garments had amassed on the bed, growing steadily as you sifted through the wardrobe, discarding outfit after outfit. The frustration bubbled within you, reaching its peak as you bellowed to Dabi in the adjacent room.

"I can't find a single thing to wear for the party tonight!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying the tone of exasperation.

A mumbled response reached your ears, prompting you to traverse the distance and find Dabi, your villainous boyfriend, lounging indifferently with a beer in hand, fixated on the television screen. His nonchalant demeanor was evident as he puffed on a cigarette, seemingly uninterested in your sartorial predicament.

Without much enthusiasm, he nodded in acknowledgment of your complaint, casually remarking that he was sure you could surely find something suitable to adorn yourself for the fucking party Shigaraki had coerced every League member into attending.

Determined, you declared, "Ok. I've decided that you're taking me shopping... no arguments!"

Dabi attempted to dissuade you, gesturing towards the television where news about Endeavor played, as if it held greater significance. "Babe, seriously?"

Disregarding his protests, you seized his lengthy coat, your car keys, and his hand, urging him towards the door despite his low growls, not bothering yourself to turn the TV off.

"Doll, you've got a plethora of clothes, and you still claim to have nothing to choose from? That's utterly ridiculous," Dabi groaned, wresting his hand free, swiftly disposing of his cigarette in a crystal ashtray. With an unhappy grimace etched across his face, he begrudgingly adorned his coat. "I won't be dressing up like a fucking fool just to mingle with those lunatics," he grumbled, his discontent palpable.

After three hours of aimless meandering through a plethora of shops, the details of each one eluding your memory, you stumbled upon a dress that tickled your fancy. Amidst the sea of countless dresses tried on in pursuit of the perfect ensemble, you finally discovered one that resonated with your taste. Eager to see how it would adorn you, you headed for the changing rooms. En route to the fitting room, you deftly accumulated a selection of lingerie as well.

Thoughts of acquiring alluring lingerie danced in your mind, contemplating the ways you could model them for Dabi — whether in person or through the lens - to keep him company during those prolonged missions with the League. A stack of lingerie, featuring neon shades, delicate baby pinks, and enticing black lace, awaited your scrutiny.

As you boldly pulled back the curtain, Dabi made a move to follow you inside. A quick about-face, a dismissive shake of your head, and a pointed indication toward a chair stationed just beyond the dressing area thwarted his entry.

Dabi complained, "So I don't even get the fun bit of watching you change to brighten up this fucking unnecessary trip?"

However, it was futile - you insisted he wait over there. With the realization that he couldn't join in the fashion spectacle, you swiftly snapped pictures of each lingerie piece as you were trying them on. Seeking Dabi's discerning opinion, you bombarded him with inquiries regarding your sartorial choices. After the final snapshot found its way to your boyfriend's inbox, an air of suspense hung in the digital ether. Yet, as the seconds ticked away, there was no immediate response from Dabi, leaving you with a frown crossing your forehead.

As you cautiously peeked outside to ensure he hadn't ventured too far, the thick curtain was unceremoniously thrust aside. And there he stood – Dabi, eyeing you with a hunger akin to a starving predator, meticulously taking in the alluring contours of your body adorned in a provocative lingerie set. The fabric, a blend of black sheer lace with a hint of hot pink trimming, clung enticingly to your form.

The bra, designed with a daring split in the cups, left your nipples exposed, proudly making their presence known in response to the sight before you as they instantly stiffened. An instinctive reaction led you to subtly rub your thighs together, a silent attempt to quell the burgeoning heat within you. Your boyfriend, tall and commanding, exuding an air of nonchalance, leaned casually against the changing room wall, his gaze fixed on you.

Without uttering a single word, Dabi seized the moment, propelling you further into the confines of the changing room. With a deft motion, he drew the curtain close, creating an intimate space.

Dabi deftly took hold of your left nipple, his slender forefinger and thumb teasingly tweaking it.

The heat rapidly ascended along your neck, and your breaths quickened as he leaned in, delivering a fierce kiss and an ardent suck on your pulse point. Lowering his head, his warm mouth enveloped the other nipple with a determination, unleashing a sweet yet sharp sensation at its base. The overwhelming pleasure threatened to elicit sounds of ecstasy, but you fought to maintain composure as delicious waves of sensation cascaded over you. "Handsome," you whispered, barely moving your lips as you slipped one hand into his soft, black hair.

Dabi's free hand, not content with just teasing, boldly tugged aside the lacy panties you had on, inspecting how wet you were getting. His verdict: dripping wet. With a forceful motion, the elastic was yanked down your legs, severing all of his contact from your eager nipples as his attention fell on the panties. In one swift move, they were stripped from your hips and deftly retrieved from the floor.

As though it were the most ordinary sequence of events, Dabi casually unzipped the fly of his black, fitted jeans, revealing a semi-hardened cock. Nonchalantly, he wiped the pre-cum off its reddened tip with the lacy panties, and thrust the fabric into your partially opened mouth. The mingling taste of both yourself and him on the fabric elicited a lascivious moan that escaped your lips.

Dabi's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smoothly retrieved his own phone, swiftly capturing an image of your aroused state. "Sorry, doll, but you look adorable, all fired up like a cheap whore you secretly are," he remarked, seamlessly sliding his phone back into the rear pocket of his pants. With a sly grin, he pulled the panties out of your mouth, raising them to his nose and inhaling deeply. "Mmmm, absolutely perfect," he growled, stashing the intoxicating garment into the same back pocket. "Guess we're gonna take 'em."

Dabi slipped his hand between your thighs, and you willingly parted them further in anticipation. A dark giggle escaped him at your eagerness. "Look at you, princess, so eager to help me touch that pretty little pussy. What? Is my doll all needy? Moments ago, you didn't want to let me watch you, but look at ya now, eager as never before."

Staring intensely into your captivating eyes, Dabi smoothly slid his long middle finger deep inside your slick pussy, eliciting an immediate moan and causing you to instinctively shut your eyes in response.

"No, no, princess, we ain't gonna play like that. Look at me, I want your eyes on me, now," he commanded, leaning forward to place a tender peck on your forehead.

Complying with his directive, you followed his lead, biting down on your lower lip with enough force to draw a bead of blood after opening your eyes again, looking into his turquoise ones.

For a span of a good minute or two, Dabi expertly fingered you, exploring every millimeter of your pussy until your spongy walls began to clench rhythmically around his finger, a clear indication of your impending climax.

"You ain't gonna get off so easily, doll," he declared, withdrawing his digit and lifting it to your lips. With a deliberate motion, he parted your lips with his thumb, prompting you to accept his finger into your mouth.

You sucked your own juices off his digit, moaning quietly without breaking the eye contact.

Dabi seized a generous handful of your supple ass, drawing you closer to him in a forceful manner, engaging in a passionate make-out session with you, pushing his pierced tongue down your throat.

Unabashedly, you dared to extend your hand, wrapping it around his now fully-erect cock, expertly jerking it while rising onto your tiptoes for a more comfortable angle.

Your actions proved successful as Dabi moaned into your mouth, punctuating the moment with a couple of spanks on your ass before tenderly squeezing the supple flesh, indulging in a thorough massage.

In the next instant, he decisively detached your hand from his throbbing cock and pivoted you around, urging you forward until you were facing a lengthy mirror.

Dabi positioned your hands high on either side of the mirror, granting you a comprehensive view of your entire form and his presence looming behind you in the reflective surface.

In a hushed tone, he murmured, "Now, we don't have much time, baby. You wasted too much time already wandering throughout all those stupid stores and teasing me like a bitch you are. I'm going to fuck you hard and cum deep inside you. Do you understand?"

Meeting his gaze in the mirror's reflection, you nodded in affirmation.

"Good," he declared, punctuating his words with another firm spank on your ass. His hand deftly secured your left cheek, spreading it as he gripped his throbbing member. With the tip of his cock, Dabi traced an enticing path up and down your exposed entrance, your juices already glistening and trickling down your thigh.

Without delay, he forced your cunt open with his rigid shaft, delivering a single, powerful thrust that brought him to the hilt inside you. "Fffuuuuccckkk," Dabi breathed out through gritted teeth.

Any potential scream was mercifully muffled by his hand wrapping around your neck, applying a tight squeeze that momentarily restricted your airflow. "Don't you dare moan like you do back home. Our neighbors are accustomed to your bitchy moans and whines, but here people are not, yeah? And the last thing I need today is getting caught with my dick stuffed in your tight cunt," he warned, nibbling your earlobe.

You were relentlessly slammed into, the force akin to a piston driving into your pussy again and again and again.

Dabi's hands greedily explored your soft flesh - your breasts, hips, belly, occasionally slipping between your thighs to playfully tease your swollen clitoris.

Little moans escaped your lips as you pressed your cheek against the cold glass, the surface already fogging up from the intensity of your heavy breathing.

Dabi, panting with an intensity akin to a dog in heat, delivered hard spanks to your ass and the back of your thighs. "You enjoy it when I take you rough like this, don't ya, doll? Hmm? Oh yeah, ya love it. You're quite the dirty whore," he chuckled into your ear. "Don't worry, daddy will fuck you the way you crave the most, princess."

Dabi intensified his rhythm, a firm grip on your hips as he relentlessly thrust into your slippery cunt.

The only sounds resonating within the confines of the changing room were a harmonious blend of your mixed gasps and moans, accompanied by the resonating slap of flesh against flesh, each time his weighty balls hit the curve of your supple ass.

"Dabi..." you whined, already breathless.

Smack, smack, smack! A sequence of forceful spanks landed on your ass. "Address me properly, princess, or I'll have to think of a punishment, and trust me, you won't want that," Dabi growled, sinking his teeth into the column of your neck.

"Daddy," you whispered, your mouth parched from moans and panting, the act of swallowing causing a sweet ache. "Harder," you pleaded. "Harder."

"Mmmm," Dabi slowed his thrusts, his cock reaching deep within you, the tip delicately grazing your cervix as he came to a complete stop. "I knew you had a wild side, little whore, but now you've surprised me. Daddy's going to fulfill your wish," he declared with a sultry promise.

And thus, it commenced. Without delay, he placed a hand on your head, pressing you more firmly against the mirror. The intensity escalated, his hips snapping with relentless determination.

"Oh my God," you managed to utter as you slid a hand between your legs, tracing delicate circles over your slick-covered folds.

Slap, slap, slap! Each thrust felt harder and deeper than the last. His strong hand seized a handful of your hair, pulling you further onto his pulsating dick as he forewarned, "Princess, I'm gonna cum. Daddy's going to coat your sweet cunt with his seed."

Bracing yourself, you endured a final series of sloppy thrusts as Dabi's grunts reverberated down your ear. Rising on your tiptoes, you attempted to accommodate the force emanating from his groin. "Cumming, cumming, fuck," Dabi aggressively grunted, and came deep inside of you, his warm, thick semen spurting from the slit of his tip, painting your spongy walls until they were all adorned in a coating of white.

After withdrawing, Dabi took a moment to appreciate his job, observing the mix of his cum and your juices as they dribbled from your well-used hole.

Depleted and breathless, you whimpered, "I need to drink something, my mouth's dry, Dabi…"

"I'll get you water," he responded casually, extracting panties from his back pocket to once again clean himself off. "You were such a filthy whore, doll. Just the way I like ya the most," he added, punctuating his words with a playful spank that made you yelp as he seemingly heated up his palm, leaving a vivid red mark on your ass cheek. "Get fucking dressed now, we only have an hour to get back home and get ready for that fucking party."

Dabi gathered a few bras and panties before leaving you in the changing room.

As you slid your knickers back on, you smeared the cream of your mixed fluids between your puffy cunt lips. You bit down on your knuckle to stifle a reaction to coldness brought forth by the slick wetness.

You haven't cum so hard such in a good two days, you thought to yourself.

Once dressed, you exited the fitting room only to spot Dabi at the checkout, purchasing every item you had tried on. A self-satisfied grin played on your lips, met with a nod from him. Ah, you already had a plan in mind for how you'd repay him.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

The Blackwood Knight prt.7

ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫'𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 ℑ 𝔱𝔯𝔶 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬~ 𝔚𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔣 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 ℜ𝔲𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢

Description: Battles of the heart ensue out of battles between warring houses. Following a misunderstanding, The Blackwood Knight attempts to convince his lady of the depth of his feelings.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Warnings: female reader, angst.

Benjicot stared after his lady love's retreating skirts, horror struck at his own culpability in precipitating her despair. Torn between his desire to acquiese to her urgent entreaty for him to leave her and his pressing desparation to comfort her, she had disappeared from the clearing before he began to stride in the direction he had seen her flee. The fact that by following her he would be crossing from Blackwood firmly into Bracken land, exposing him to the threat of combat and perhaps death, did not enter his mind at that moment. Foremost in his mind was her tear stained face and look of betrayal, and the painful thought that he had caused both. Gaining speed now, despite the uneven downward route the forest had now taken, he held the hilt of his sword as he flew through the forest, his burgundy cloak flying behind him over his shoulder. 

His height advantage and lack of sartorial hinderance meant that he caught up with Y/N in minutes, and was further panicked to see that she was stumbling unevenly down the forest path, favouring one ankle over the other. Concern for her welfare and the pressing need to acertain whether she was hurt had him running to her and holding her left arm in his as he lifted her right hand, raising it around his neck.

Letting out a high cry of surprise, he moved himself quickly so that he was in front of her, bending so that he could examine her face.

"Are you hurt, darling?! Tell me where." He said urgently, holding her arms gently in his hands as he examined her for signs of injury. 

Pushing back with an effort that had her leaning against a tree, a pained expression on her face, she cried, "stay away from me, I don’t want your help."

Raising his arms towards her placatingly, as if approaching a startled deer, his face crumpling as if her words had been a blow, he took two wary steps towards her.

"I understand you're hurt and no one reproaches myself more than I for the misunderstanding that has caused it."

Snapping her head upwards from where she had nestled it in the crook of her arms against a tree, she retorted, "the only misunderstanding was my foolish belief that you could actually love me, not just what I could do for your territorial gain." 

Inexpressibly pained by her words and the thought that he had augmented her anxieties, rather than assuaged them, as he had hoped to do, he stepped forward quickly, ready to profess his love over and over again and to prove it in anway he could, bending before her in supplication, as he urgently took her hands in his. 

He paused, his expression growing panicked when she emited a cry when his sudden movement forced her to take a step back.

Her face growing pale, Benjicot immediately ascertained that it was her ankle she had injured. 

His concern for her pain taking precedence over all others he rose in one fluid movement, taking her left arm gently in his before she could protest and wrapping it around his neck, he lowered his neck slowly, reaching for her legs, which he swept carefully into his arms. 

Realising what he was doing, Y/N swatted weakly at Benjicot's chest, "let me down."

The demand was so quiet, he grew even more concerned at how much pain she was in. Lowering them both to a sitting position in a nearby tree trunk, so as not to hurt her further, he held her across his lap, looking down penitently into her pained face.

Speaking gently to her, he said: "I know you are angry with me, my love, and I am very sorry for it. I will explain all but for now I must determined how much damage there is to your ankle. Do I have your permission to examine it."

"I would rather you didn't, just put me down."

With a shuddering sigh, he briefly held his forehead onto hers before speaking even more gently.

"I know, and I would not impose my presence on you when it causes you pain, but I need to know how much damage there is. Let me help you."

Turning her head away from him, she closed her eyes and nodded sharply. 

Using his free hand, not holding her across him by her torso, he carefuly raised her skirt an inch, only as far as was needed to reveal her bruised, twisted ankle. 

Taking a deep breath, Benjicot delicately lowered her skirt back over the ankle and wrapped his arm underneath her legs once again, rising with her in his arms. 

"I am going to bring you home, but you must tell me of I move too quickly and it causes you pain, and I will stop immediately." 

Not receiving a response, he began to walk with measured steps in the direction of what he believed to be the path to Bracken Hall. 

Y/N's hand coming to press on his shoulder, he immediately stopped, for fear that he had caused her pain.

"You cant go any further, these are Bracken lands, you'll be killed."

Affecting a sly grin and jovial tone which was at odds with the deep pit of concern at her condition within him, he winked, "I'd like to see them try."

Seeing that his attempt at distracting her with humour was not well received, he dropped the pretence and looked down at her with all the gentle concern and desperation he really felt.

"In truth, my love, I do not care. My only concern is for you. I would encounter Bracken swords any day if it would mean I could keep you safe." Pausing to gaze into her eyes as he said this, hoping against hope that he could make her believe him if he willed it enough with his eyes. 

His words did not have the desired affect, as her lip wobbled and she turned her head away before whispering in an undertone. "I don't believe you."

Nodding dejectedly, he continued to walk. 

At some point, whether from the pain or not, Y/N had nestled her head onto Benjicot's shoulder as they made their way back to her ancestral halls, and he took comfort in the sensation, that she herself might still look to him for comfort and protection, even if she was angry at him.

A fork in the path led them into the line of four Bracken knights, all of whom drew their swords in recognition of the Blackwood house colours and insignia of Benjicot's tunic and cloak. Pausing, Benjicot addressed himself to the knights.

"I mean no insult. The young Lady Bracken has injured her ankle and was in need of assistance."

"More likely you were the cause of her injury, release the Lady at once."

Stunned by the veracity of their accusation, he nonethless responded equitably. 

"I will, as soon as I have delivered her to the safety of her halls."

Stalking closer, his sword still raised, the Bracken knight scoffed.

"And you think we will just let you pass? Deliver the lady to us at once and withdraw!"

Gazing down at Y/N, quickly taking in her distressed expression and the tightening grip of her small hand on his tunic, he determined his next course of action.

"I will withdraw only once I am sure that the lady is safe. How dare you point your sword in the direction of the Lady. Once I have delievered her to safety, I dare you to draw it upon me." His gaze darkended as he said this, and the tension radiating from both knights became palpable.

A voice entering the clearing broke through it.

"What is amiss?"

Turning to face the young future Lord Bracken, Aeron, the Bracken Knight nodded his head in deference before responding. 

"The bloody Blackwood has injured Lady Y/N and will not release her to us."

Turning with anger towards Benjicot, Aeron strode towards him. 

"If this be true, and you have injured my cousin, there shall be violence."

Benjicot gazed at Aeron steadfastly, relying upon his care for his cousin and good sense. 

"I would rather die than hurt the Lady. I mean no offence by crossing the border, I only meant to see her safe. If there must be violence, let it be so, but let me first deliver the Lady to safety."

Meeting Benjicot's gaze with his own quizzical one, he bent his head in the direction of his cousin when he heard her quiet voice.

"Don't hurt him, he was only helping me."

Nodding once in deference to her Aeron opened his arms in her direction before turning again to Benjicot.

"You may deliver her to me, I will return her safely to Bracken Hall."

Pausing only to gaze down at Y/N to gain her permission, Benjicot reluctantly and ever so gently delivered her across to Aeron's waiting arms." 

"Be careful with her" Benjicot stuttered out, making Aeron pause in the act of turning with his cousin.

"You can be assured of that."

"What shall we do with him?" Cried one of the Bracken knights.

"Nothing," Aeron returned, let him pass back to his own lands. 

Benjicot nodded respectfully towards Aeron, watching until Y/N had completely disappeared with him down the path, all the time wishing that she would look back at him, if only for the last time.

@lovebabe18-blog @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @drwho-ess @dancingbaek @aemondslove

[choerypetal]

Desire / Sejanus Plinth

Summary: Being mindful of your shared history with Sejanus outside the confines of the academy, and recognizing Sejanus's aspiration to earn his father's approval, fostered a connection built on both sincerity and responsibility—underscored by a commitment to honesty.

themes: a little bit of plot for our sweet boi, but also sejanus being a top especially in his reaping suit just hit different, also him wanting to make snow jealous is my favorite kind of trope to write. hope you'll enjoy!

ps: english isn't my first mothered tongue, so i appoligze for any grammar errors, and do not copy nore plagiarized my work as it can be ban and even flagged in the process.

Sejanus adorned his finest attire during the reaping ceremony, adhering to the unspoken mandate of sartorial elegance that accompanied the invitation. As you entered the room, it was evident that a touch of fashion was not merely a suggestion but a prerequisite. Among the myriad of ensembles, your dress, gracefully embracing your curves, stood out, capturing Sejanus's attention irresistibly. His mother, keen-eyed even from a distance, promptly intercepted you, urging you to approach. "Ma, I can handle introductions myself." He would nonchalantly assert, feeling a subtle warmth in his cheeks, a blend of casual demeanor and sly embarrassment. Despite the prevalent animosity toward his father among classmates, Sejanus was determined to earn at least a measure of pride, not only for himself but for his mother and, undoubtedly, for you. 

"No one here actually likes him, but they do enjoy his money. You know what that’s like don’t you Crane?" Sejanus experienced a surge of excitement upon encountering you before the ceremony. Despite his own preoccupation with Festus, who had drawn him into the commotion, Sejanus redirected his focus entirely upon your presence upon his confession. Observing you engage in lively conversation with Clemensia, your laughter echoing the essence of the girl you were meant to be, captivated Sejanus. He was determined not to be caught casually biting his lower lip, his gaze fixed entirely on you. "If you'll excuse me. I have some business to attend to." He said, patting Coriolanus's shoulder before making his exit. 

"Love the dress, Y/N." Clemensia exclaimed, the first to spot your arrival, closely followed by Sejanus, of course. Her hands extended for a warm hug, accompanied by a smile radiating both dignity and excitement for the impending reaping ceremony. In contrast, a subtle nervousness crept over you, realizing that you were about to embark on mentoring, not to mention meeting individuals from various districts. The persistent perception that the denizens of the districts were mere facades of Panem's reality added to your apprehension. However, if Sejanus possessed the capacity to illustrate a different perspective, he was unafraid to reveal the true face of his home, the authentic image of the people in Panem. This authenticity stood in stark contrast to the superficial facade maintained by figures like Snow himself. 

With a self-assured grin and his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he navigated the crowd with a demeanor that, although his mother would disapprove of as being somewhat untidy, was a conscious effort to seamlessly blend in with his fellow Capitol residents. Despite the need to appear approachable to those more economically inclined, he made it a point to maintain an air of confidence. "Y/N..." The sound of your name lingered in his voice, each syllable carefully pronounced and laden with unspoken sentiments. It was evident that he was already aware of his deep admiration for you. "You look absolutely stunning, as always." He confessed, catching Clemensia off guard, prompting only a smirk in response, and a subtle nudge in your direction. You, in turn, rolled your eyes at her suggestive insinuations. "Not too shabby yourself, Sejanus." You remarked with confidence, extending your arm for him to escort you to the rear of the seating area before the commencement of the ceremony. Sejanus's objective was clear – to have you all to himself. Even if it meant adopting a somewhat disreputable approach, as long as it emphasized his protective stance towards you, it was the only thing that truly mattered to him. 

Admiring the lipstick, he took care to express as he leaned toward you, his arm still securely around your waist, now slightly tighter. This gesture intensified as he noticed another man casting a similar glance at a couple they had initially deemed an unlikely match. The boy was still rooted in the District, while he himself leaned toward someone of significant affluence. Sejanus, despite his opposition to the existence of the Games, reluctantly embraced the charade, aware that any objection on your part could lead to your parents considering the possibility of severing this relationship. Thus, Sejanus and you began to outwardly portray a facade, a carefully constructed illusion that placed both of you in a delicate position. "Loving the new suit." You remarked with the same tone he used upon admiring you. 

A chuckle escaped from Sejanus's lips as you imitated him, recalling how his mother had instructed him to maintain a gallant demeanor and remain discreet in your presence. Despite the guidance, he couldn't help but relish the desire to savor every inch of your skin from the moment he laid eyes on you that morning. The subtle choice of wearing his favorite dress for the reaping ceremony didn't go unnoticed, and he felt compelled to at least graze your soft skin and press his lips against your ear, whispering your name while you attempted to resist. Your attempts to push him away only resulted in a smirk from him, fully aware that you secretly enjoyed every moment of his advances. Whether the affection unfolded in public or private, Sejanus delighted in the sight of your eyes, a blend of embarrassment and passion, pleading for him.

"Sejanus..." You quietly called his name as he leaned in to inhale the fragrance of the new perfume he had purchased for you the day before the reaping. You could sense his lips curving into a sly smirk, observing your cheeks turning a softer shade of pink, a reaction honed through enduring constant teasing during your stay. "People are going to be watching..." Your voice softened, and the notion seemed to further entice Sejanus. His fingers loosened their grip on your waist, trailing from the back of your dress to your neck, where they lingered, pulling you closer. He stole a few quick kisses on the crook of your neck, the softness of your voice amplifying the intimacy of the moment. However, a growing awareness crept in—someone was indeed watching. Snow, who had a chance to witness the two of you, gazed uncomfortably from his seat. It wasn't a curious look but rather one filled with distaste and regret, recognizing that Plinth had found an effortless path to the Academy and now someone he was beginning to relish. And Sejanus was enjoying every bits of it. 

"Don't worry," He chuckled, his voice deepening with the palpable tension between the two. He didn't mind the risk of being caught, not even a reprimand from his father lingering in the back of his head. It was enough, at least for a fleeting moment, to make his father proud by embodying the facade of the man he was expected to be. "If someone is supposedly watching us right now, then I'd be more than pleased to give them a show." He wasn't entirely wrong, and Snow himself could almost gasp, but he refrained, knowing that any reaction might lead to both of them getting caught in the act. "Just for a few moments before the reaping, will you?" He insisted, a gentle reminder for you to remain composed and gracefully acknowledge anyone present, despite the growing prominence of blush on your cheeks. The alcohol in the room served as a preferred distraction, selected by the teachers. 

Sejanus’s hand trail down further the back near your arse. Even thought he struggled a bit to reach for a tease, he managed to travel his fingers towards your thighs. Luckily the dress being long enough and you being accustomed to being seated far for the time being. His eyes winded in surprised yet not so much, when noticing  the absent of your underwear only to be revealed. As the warmth touch of his fingers against your cold skin, send you a sense of shiver, his thumb teasingly brushing on your clit as your tried your very best not to hold on your whimpers. “Seja–” You of course tried to sound as oblivious from his action, even thought it was a constant routine whenever you had to chance to meet. All could Sejanus do was to make a sign of being silent, and his smirk being more pronounced by the circular motion of his tumb soon before he could feel your arousal being wet. “Already wet for me? I’d take that as a compliment.” He said with obvious sarcasm and tease in his voice. 

Of course Sejanus only used this tactic when you were to the point of orgasm. How you had already gripped your helpless fingers by one of the fabric of his pant. Although he had promptly said no to even touch his private part. As it being said and ordered that today– It was him who was in charge. Not only for that but to also make a father proud. A father he could care less of his own child but also be delighted to know that at least his kid, made something so unexpected that Sejanus could perhaps feel at ease for the time being. “You know..” His voice lingered as his eyes darkened by your plea of wanting him more. But as time went short. He confessed. “I don’t seem to be hating the idea of being in charge more.” 

“After the reaping, see me at the Lab.” He informed briefly yet fully aware of what Sejanus had in plan after the reaping ceremony. And as everyone began to notice Dr. Gaul’s presence along with Casca Highbottom, it was suggested that the reaping was officially starting. Therefore, Sejanus promptly smirking to himself as he had completely forgot to realize that you’d had to be wet during this entirety on the ceremony. Making you feel dirty and yet keeping a class only you was able to do so. “It’s time darling.” He said and escorted you back to your seats. 

It was when you arrived next to Snow on your left, that he too took notice farewell of the marks left from Sejanus. Which luckily you managed to cover with strands of hair before walking further to the front row. To which he then couldn’t help to ask if you were okay. Poor him– Sejanus laughed to himself upon seeing his classmate being yet so confused and disgusted by seeing the most beautiful girl of Panem assisted with someone such as Sejanus himself. “Ready for the ceremony, Snow?” Was what you said to him before he could even let the question of Sejanus’s hickeys. Of course by being his honest self simply smiled at you and nod rather uncomfortably. “Very, but wouldn’t they notice?” 

"What's there to notice?" Your question carried a subtle touch of sarcasm, eliciting a sense of pride in Sejanus. The moment you turned to your side, he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction, nudging him with a slight smirk before he could release a soft chuckle.

"No, nothing. Have a splendid reaping, Y/N." Snow uttered with a hint of shyness this time. As you acknowledged his modest response, Sejanus leaned in once more. "I need to make these marks more pronounced." He retorted with a smirk. Once again, you quietly nudged his side, both of you sharing a laugh, only for Casca Highbottom to redirect your attention to the unfolding reaping ceremony. Little did anyone know, you would later become Sejanus's complete distraction and source of enjoyment, allowing him to savor every moment according to his desires.

[nintendo-b1tch]

Part 2 to this!

Hope this is good! Enjoy!

Criticism is always welcomed!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

With a light, melodic laugh escaping your lips, you found yourself immersed in the joyous atmosphere as you gracefully unloaded the much-needed supplies from your trusty steed, Epona. The day had taken its toll on all of you - the brave heroes who had decided to embark on this journey alongside you. Yet despite the weariness that permeated the air, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment as you showered Epona with affectionate strokes, expressing your gratitude for her unwavering assistance.

As the equine steed nuzzled her snout against your cheek in response to your praises, a ripple of amusement coursed through your being. It wasn't lost on you that your fellow companions' curious gazes lingered on your figure, causing an enigmatic smile to grace your lips. With a graceful turn, you faced them head-on, causing their eyes to dart away in a hurried motion. Another lighthearted chuckle escaped your throat, like a herbaceous fragrance permeating the crisp forest air.

It was evident, almost palpable, that they were bewildered by your sudden change in attire. Gone was the elegant dress that once adorned your form, replaced by a humble, handcrafted tunic woven by the skilled hands of warriors. Its simplicity was complemented by the presence of sturdy trousers, concealing the chain mail that offered a protective layer beneath your cloth armor. Leather gloves adorned your hands, accompanied by wristbands that spoke of your prowess and dedication. Despite the transformation, you retained the familiar hairpin, a comforting reminder of your identity.

Finding yourself adjusting to the unfamiliar garments, you couldn't help but reflect on the myriad of emotions intertwining within you. Change can be disorienting, and while you embraced this new attire as a symbol of your evolving role, there was a lingering sense of unease. However, in the grand scheme of things, your sartorial shift seemed trivial compared to the magnitude of the task ahead.

With steadfast determination, you resolved to focus on aiding your companions in setting up the camp for the night. As you moved with purpose, your gracefulness in each step serving as a testament to your unyielding spirit, you couldn't help but appreciate the camaraderie that had formed among this group of heroes.

Time was the first to approach you, he smiled at you as he spoke softly. You could see he wasn't one to be very expressive yet when he was with you, he was the most expressive person you ever met.

" Could you help collect firewood? "

" Of course! "

As Time observed you collecting firewood, a warm smile spread across his face, indicating his approval and appreciation for your efforts. Though normally not an expressive individual, Time seemed to open up and reveal his emotions whenever he was in your presence. It was as if you had a special connection that made him feel comfortable showing his true self.

Intrigued by the soft melody resonating in the air, Time couldn't help but become curious about the song that had captured your subconscious mind. The tune, a beautiful melody you had dreamt of the previous night, wafted through your thoughts, filling your mind with harmonious notes. You absentmindedly began to hum the enchanting melody while your hands deftly gathered as much firewood as they could bear.

Unbeknownst to you, the humming gradually transformed into whispered lyrics as the song unfolded within your thoughts. It was as if the music had taken on a life of its own, flowing effortlessly from the depths of your soul. Time, entranced by the combination of your actions and the ethereal sounds emanating from your lips, found himself captivated by this unexpected performance.

As the instrumental melody within your mind continued to evolve, a surge of emotions coursed through your veins. The soundtrack of your dreams now filled the air, carrying with it a crescendo of emotions that compelled your voice to increase in volume. The once delicate and hushed humming evolved into a resounding voice, harmonizing with the imaginary accompaniment.

Caught off guard by the sudden amplification, you finally noticed Time's inquisitive gaze fixed upon you. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, his smile widening as he soaked up the musical display unfolding before him. It was as if your uncensored expression of the song had transported both of you to a realm where time stood still, and nothing else mattered except the harmony that enveloped you.

" Day to night, dark to light,

Fall the sands of time...

Let the years, like the gears

Of a clock, unwind... "

The older man froze in his tracks when he heard the piercing sound of your whispered lyrics floating through the air. It was as if he had turned into a statue, with his muscles tightening intensely. His grip on the wooden object loosened, causing it to clatter and echo in the silence of the grassy surroundings.

" In your mind walk through time

Back to better days...

Memories, like a dream,

Wash tears away... "

As his hands clenched into tight fists, his mind began to race, summoning forth a torrent of painful memories locked deep within the recesses of his consciousness. How could you possibly know about that? His past adventures resurfaced, each scar and wound resuming their places at the forefront of his thoughts.

" Like a star in the sky,

Darkness can't reach you...

Light the night, joy is light,

Till the new dawn... "

His cheeks were wet with tears. In that fleeting moment, you finally realized that he was not by your side, prompting your gaze to shift towards the older man in question. The atmosphere between you both suddenly became heavy, filled with unspoken emotions and unexplained sorrows.

" Time? Are you okay? " you inquired, concern lacing your voice as you tried to understand what was going on. It was not uncommon for him to be quiet, but this silence felt starkly different. It was not the tranquil silence he often embraced, but rather a silence that held the weight of unexpressed feelings. His usual composed demeanor seemed shattered, and the stillness that enveloped him caused your own steps to falter.

A mix of confusion and worry welled up within you, making it difficult to comprehend the sudden shift in his demeanor. You racked your mind for any clues, searching your memories for any hint of what might have caused this unusual display of vulnerability. A sinking feeling settled in your chest as the uncertainty grew, gradually intertwining with your genuine concern for his well-being.

" Tha-that song.... " he mumbled in a barely audible tone, his comment causing a sudden wave of tension to flood the air. Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly gathered your thoughts, desperate to clear any misunderstandings.

" Huh? Oh, I had the most vivid dream last night, " you began with a touch of excitement, your voice laced with wonder. " In this dream, there was a legendary hero, burdened to relive the same three days over and over again. It was both thrilling and heartbreaking to witness his struggle. But you know what made it truly remarkable? A mischievous spirit, unlike any other, forged an unexpected friendship with the hero. They both possessed these incredibly powerful items, each with its own unique aura. "

Pausing for a moment, the realization struck you like a bolt of lightning.

" Wait a minute, your face tattoos... they reminded me of one of those enigmatic items! I can't help but draw parallels between the hero's journey and your own enigmatic presence. I apologize if I'm going off on a tangent here; I tend to get carried away when something captivates my imagination! "

Caught off guard by your passionate rambling, he shook his head, his voice now filled with a mix of resignation and a hint of longing.

" I... nevermind, let's just focus on getting back to camp. " His hands instinctively began gathering fallen wood, the roughness adding another layer of reality to the deeply emotional atmosphere. Tears silently streamed down his face, yet he persisted, determined not to succumb to his raw vulnerability. As he wiped away the evidence of his pain, a small token of solace appeared—a delicate silent princess finding refuge behind his ear, its presence soothing his wounded spirit.

And then, it happened. His gaze met yours, and in that single moment, those shimmering orbs of yours radiated warmth. Your beautiful smile, so genuine and full of understanding, seemed almost otherworldly in its ability to reach deep into his soul. Unprepared for such a connection, his cheeks flushed a soft rose hue, a mix of bashfulness and delight intertwining in his heart.

In that moment, as you both crouched down to collect the scattered firewood, an unexpected connection sparked between you. The warmth of your touch sent a tingling sensation across your skin, and an enchanting blush spread across your cheeks like a delicate sun-kissed hue. It was a small and innocent gesture, seemingly insignificant, but to him, it held immense significance.

The way you bashfully reacted to the accidental touch only endeared you further to him. It was as if you were a delicate flower, gently swaying in the breeze, and he couldn't help but be drawn to your captivating vulnerability. In that instant, he realized just how much he longed to see you in such a state of innocence and openness, even if it meant being vulnerable himself.

However, as soon as his mind dared to wander into the realm of fantasies, he mentally reprimanded himself. How could he even think of such intimate desires? He chastised himself, almost metaphorically slapping his own thoughts away. It was unthinkable to allow his mind to wander down that path when his feelings for you were still transitioning and evolving.

But despite his best efforts, his heart refused to obey reason. It continued to beat wildly against the barriers of his chest, reminding him that he couldn't deny the depth of his growing emotions. He found himself falling, captivated by your mesmerizing presence, just as someone would fall for your beauty and allure unmatched.

The realization struck him like a lightning bolt, illuminating the depths of his infatuation. The more he got to know you, the more he couldn't resist the gravitational pull of affection that was drawing him closer and closer. Your beautiful self had cast a spell upon his heart, captivating him completely.

Although his mind knew it was unwise to allow his thoughts to wander down such intense and passionate paths, his heart had already made its choice. There was no denying it anymore; he was undeniably falling for you. And just like Legend, his fall was swift and all-encompassing, leaving him yearning for a future where he could cherish you, hold you close, and revel in the beauty of your connection.

So, as he gathered the scattered firewood with you, he knew deep within himself that his path had diverged. No longer could he pretend to be untouched by the whirlwind of emotions that swirled within his being. He had fallen, and now it was up to fate to decide if his feelings would be reciprocated.

You were not just an ordinary person but an extraordinary individual with an unwavering determination and a compassionate heart that was always ready to lend a helping hand to others. Your compelling strength of character was simply irresistible, making it hard for anyone, including him, to not be captivated by your charm. The value that your vibrant energy held was truly remarkable, even though you had only been a part of the chain for a relatively short period of time.

To everyone's astonishment, you decided to undergo rigorous training in sword combat under the guidance of Time and Warriors. And when the moment of truth arrived, both of them were taken aback by your extraordinary talent and skill in wielding a sword. Your proficiency in combat was beyond impressive, leaving a lasting impression on the two heroes who had seen their fair share of formidable warriors.

As he walked alongside you, he found himself lost in a sea of contemplation, completely submerged in his own thoughts. The sight of you, with your radiant smile and a gentle tap on his shoulder, brought him back to the present moment. And in that very moment, you placed the firewood against the ground and began speaking again. The angelic quality of your voice resonated deeply within him, leaving him bewildered as to why he was falling deeper in love with you. It was not just your enchanting voice, but also the little habits that you possessed, the habits that you were unaware of, which he found endearing and utterly lovable. All these intricacies and qualities that made you who you were had a profound effect on him, solidifying his adoration for you.

Yet, no matter how much he tried, he found himself unable to fully embrace his feelings for you. His heart remained locked, trapped in the memories of his previous love, Malon. The weight of her untimely death had left an indelible mark on his soul, making it nearly impossible for him to open himself up to another person.

The grief that consumed him after losing Malon had been overwhelming. It consumed his every thought, preventing him from moving on and finding happiness with someone new. The love he had once felt for her was unmatched, a love so profound that it felt as though it could never be replicated or replaced.

In his mind's eye, he could envision Malon's disapproving gaze upon him. She was always a strong-willed woman, never afraid to challenge his stubbornness, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Her scoldings echoed in his mind, reminding him of the lengths he would go to protect himself from the pain of loss.

However, amidst his internal struggle, you remained patient and understanding. " Time!! " Your voice broke through his reverie, bringing him back to reality. It was then he noticed the tears that had silently trickled down his face, only to be wiped away by your gentle touch. Concern etched upon your face, your genuine worry for him was evident.

Surprised by your perceptiveness, he realized that you saw through the facade he had so carefully constructed. He had always been adept at hiding his problems, shielding himself from others, but somehow, you had managed to see through his walls. It was a humbling experience, knowing that no matter how hard he tried to keep his struggles hidden, you saw him for who he truly was.

Your question hung in the air, poised delicately between the two of you.

" What's wrong? I know you're hiding something, " you gently prodded further, your concern coupled with a hint of amusement. It was as if you understood the depth of his pain and yet refused to let it define him.

From the moment you entered his life, everything changed. The formidable walls he had meticulously constructed, in a desperate attempt to shield himself from the pain of losing Malon, could no longer withstand your presence. You effortlessly shattered those barriers that surrounded his delicate heart.

" It's nothing...it's just bad memories... " As he whispered those words to you, admitting that these were nothing but painful memories, he couldn't help but lean in and tenderly press his lips against your forehead. It was a moment filled with an unexpected display of affection that caused your face to flush, a deep red hue covering your cheeks.

Deep down, he knew that he couldn't reveal the truth to you. You were too pure, too innocent for him to expose the darkness that haunted his past adventure. He was the boy you dreamt of, the one who had traversed through treacherous paths and faced unimaginable perils. Yet, even amidst his own internal battle, he couldn't bear to burden you with his haunting memories.

Later that night, as the darkness enveloped the world, he found himself unable to sleep. Restlessly, he shifted in bed, his eyes fixated on the expanse of the night sky. The starry canvas above seemed to hold some sort of mysterious allure, captivating his attention to no end. Little did he know, his solitude was about to be disrupted by an unexpected intrusion.

Startled, he suddenly jolted as a voice pierced through the silence, shattering the tranquility of the night. Never had he anticipated encountering another person awake at such a late hour. It was as if this voice came from an invisible companion, a presence that he had not accounted for. The shock on his face was evident, and he struggled to comprehend the situation at hand.

" It happened to you too, huh? " The voice belonged to none other than Legend, who had silently taken a seat nearby, hugging his knees tightly against his chest. His gaze remained fixated on your slumbering figure, leaving an air of intrigue hanging in the air.

Confusion danced across Time's face as he responded, " How did you...? "

A mischievous smile crept onto Legend's lips, his bluntness revealing more than the words he uttered.

" Oh, I can see it written all over your face, Old Man, " he quipped, clearly relishing the element of surprise he had just bestowed upon his companion. The unspoken bond between them transcended mere verbal explanation.

Curiosity piqued, the protagonist couldn't help but wonder why tears had welled up in Legend's eyes during their first encounter with you. It was a question that had lingered in the back of his mind, but had never been addressed before.

Breaking the silence, Legend finally found the courage to open up, albeit momentarily diverting his gaze.

" The song they sang when we first heard them... It reminded me of the darkest time in my adventure, " he revealed, his words laced with a tinge of vulnerability. Evidently, there was a tale of anguish and adversity that lay hidden beneath the surface, a story that he was not yet ready to unravel.

Moved by his companion's admission, Time sat up and reached out, placing a comforting hand on Legend's shoulder. It was a gesture of solidarity, an unspoken understanding between fellow adventurers who had braved the trials and tribulations of their respective journeys.

" Same here, I can only hope this is a two time occurrence "

[cynic-spirit]

aemond wears white shirt and blue jeans 

Aemond Targaryen was known for his striking presence, often clad in tailored black suits or deep navy ensembles that exuded power and authority. His wardrobe mirrored his status as a feared mobster, meticulously curated to command respect and instill a sense of intimidation. But on this particular day, everything was about to change.

As he prepared for his casual outing with Y/N, Aemond found himself standing in front of his expansive wardrobe, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling within him. The anticipation of spending time with her stirred something deep inside, prompting him to step outside his usual sartorial choices.

With a rare determination, he reached for a crisp white button-up shirt, its fabric pristine and fresh, and paired it with dark blue jeans that fit him perfectly. The ensemble was a stark contrast to his usual attire, but he wanted to look approachable for Y/N, a gesture that surprised even himself.

When he emerged from his room, Helaena, who had been lounging on the sofa, looked up with wide eyes. “Aemond? Is that really you?” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of astonishment and amusement.

Alicent, entering the room just moments later, halted mid-step, her gaze fixated on her son. “What in the Seven are you wearing?” she asked, a bemused smile creeping onto her face.

Aemond shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. “I’m going out with Y/N. Thought I’d dress a little differently today.”

Helaena laughed, shaking her head. “You look… surprisingly normal. I think it suits you, brother.”

Aemond shot her a playful glare, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Normal is overrated.”

“Normal looks good on you, Aemond,” Alicent chimed in, genuine warmth in her voice. “It’s nice to see you like this, even if it’s just for one day.”

The comments made Aemond’s chest swell with a mix of pride and uncertainty. He was accustomed to the sharp, polished image he presented to the world, and this casual attire felt like a leap into uncharted territory. But for Y/N, it was worth it. He wanted to show her a different side of himself—one that wasn’t just a powerful mobster, but also a man who could enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

As he made his way to meet Y/N, Aemond’s heart raced with excitement and a hint of nervousness. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to his unexpected choice of clothing. Would she notice? Would she appreciate the effort he was putting in to make their day feel special?

When he finally arrived at their meeting spot, Y/N was already there, her face lighting up as she spotted him. Aemond held his breath, hoping for her approval.

“Wow, Aemond! You look… different!” she exclaimed, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

Aemond felt a warmth spread through him at her reaction. “Different good or different bad?” he teased, his tone light but his heart pounding.

“Different good! I love it!” she replied, stepping closer to admire him. “You clean up nicely.”

Aemond chuckled, feeling a rush of happiness at her compliment. “I figured I’d make an effort for our day out.”

With Y/N by his side, Aemond felt a sense of freedom in his casual attire, and for the first time, he realized that he didn’t have to be the imposing figure everyone expected. With her, he could be himself—unfiltered and genuine.

As they strolled through the streets, Aemond stole glances at Y/N, noting how her laughter filled the air, how her presence brightened even the dullest moments. He realized that dressing differently was not just about the clothes; it was about embracing the joy of being with her, breaking free from the constraints of his identity as a mobster.

That day marked a subtle shift in Aemond—a willingness to let Y/N in deeper, to show her the man he could be beyond the darkness that often consumed him. And as he walked beside her, he felt a sense of hope blossoming, knowing that perhaps there was a brighter future ahead, one where he could balance his power with the tenderness Y/N had awakened within him.

[perverse-idyll]

@hprecfest 2024 Day 2: A Fic Rated G

Sorry, not only did I start late, but I instantly fell behind! Oh well, that's December for you. I thought at first I'd have trouble filling the prompt because so many of the fics I was sure were G-rated were actually T. Two minutes later, I have so many choices I'm not sure how to narrow it down! So I've decided to concentrate on the witchy side of the aisle and submerge myself in friendship and femslash.

Extracts from 'Letter Collection P' by zaleti. Written for the Hoggywartyxmas fest 2020, this is an absolutely charming epistolary record of a friendship between two witches pursuing their passions (romantically, yes, but more importantly the vocations of librarian and fashion designer) in the early 1960s. Their excitement about the world and opportunities opening before them, their delight in each other, and the details of their respective apprenticeships are a joy to read. Irma Pince is the bookish half of the correspondence, and the unnamed 'M' regales her with glimpses of sartorial Paris. There's a marvelous exuberant spirit in the writing. It bubbles with joie de vivre, and its 10K words fly by incredibly fast.

Raven's Honour by kelly_chambliss, written for hp_friendship 2012, is another epistolary fic, this time concerning the opening of a boarding school for girls run by Minerva, Pomona, and Rolanda, from the awestruck perspective of a junior teacher. It's a non-magic AU set in the 1920s (a prime era for boarding-school stories), and it follows the deeply satisfying tropes and female-centered pleasures of its genre. As one would expect with Kelly, it's impeccably written, with wonderful characterization, warmth, humor, innocence, and a wealth of enchanting period detail.

Air Heart by magnetic_pole. Written for hp_beholder 2009, it's the story of how Minerva McGonagall and Rolanda Hooch met as students, in the early days of the Second World War, that being the reason Rolanda - a Squib, headstrong and fearless and determined to fly - is evacuated and sent to her mum's old school. We see how Hogwarts and young Minerva herself fall into unthinking prejudice toward their non-magical guest, but also how Minerva is drawn to Rolanda's passion and fierce sense of self. These are uncommon characterizations, placed in the context of a looming, darkening European war, and the way Maggie builds their mutual adolescent attraction and moral understanding of Wizarding ignorance (or worse) makes for a lovely, unsparing coming-of-age story.

[dead-mans-house]

I decided to try to figure out who is considered human and who isn't in The Abarat series. After doing a scour of the books, my conclusion is that "human" is a word that is used differently by different people. It can refer to the species of humans, to people who are shaped like humans but are a different species, and possibly to people who are descended from the human species who live in Abarat (debateable) The word "Abaratian" seems used as a demonym more than any kind of biology word.

"Which Abaratians are human" - the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 12,239 pages of heated debate,

I started looking into this because I wanted to know if the Candy/Carrion ship was technically an interspecies thing. It doesn't really matter, I was just curious

read my EXTENSIVE notes below

-The Fantomaya in The Lyre in the Abarat Prologue are referred to as human.

-In Abarat ch. 7, Mendelson Shape is said to make a sound that is far from human. He later says, "The Abarat isn’t for human eyes. You belong in this world, the Hereafter." This suggests that every human in The Abarat might not be indiginous to it.

-The Sea Skippers and Vlitters are both described with human comparisons, suggesting they do not count as human.

-In Abarat ch. 13, Candy observes the populace: "As far as Candy could see there were plenty of people who resembled folks she might have expected to see on the streets of Chickentown, give or take a sartorial detail: a hat, a coat, a wooden snout. But for every one person that looked perfectly human, there were two who looked perfectly other than human. The children of a thousand marriages between humankind and the great bestiary of the Abarat were abroad on the streets of the city." In the same chapter, Candy sees humans on a television.

-In ch 18, "Abaratian merchants" and "Abaratian slaves" are mentioned. The A in Abaratian is always capitalized, suggesting that it is more like the word American than it is like the word human

-In Abarat ch. 19, Carrion uses mummified human cadavers for his spell. (This fact is brought up again, later, in chapter 22) Ignacio the stitchling is apparently made from at least some human parts, because, "Two thirds of his body were still functioning as ordinary human anatomy."

-The people of The Abarat are apparently very aware of human norms. In ch 22 we read that Carrion had "heard it said that every fear that had ever chilled the human heart was here on Gorgossium."

-In ch 23, Candy doesn't seem to think that Pixler is fully human. The narrative says, "he seemed more like an ordinary human being than many of the creatures she’d met on her travels" which could mean many things.

-In ch 28, Malingo is said to be not "quite as vulnerable as a human being."

-In ch 30, the stitchling mires are of "inhuman design."

-In the Abarat appendix, we learn that Kalukwa birds "reportedly hatch downy human babies from their eggs every ninth year. These children—if saved from being pecked to death by juveniles of the previous year’s hatching_are often saved by the pirates and raised as their children." So this means that humans can be born from non-human parents. It also says that Alice Point, once home to the Fantomaya, no longer has human residents.

-in the DoMNoW prologue, Carrion specifically identifies Candy as a human when he refers to her head as "that human head of hers." It doesn't seem like a very human thing to say.

-in DoMNoW ch 3, Candy looks through a telescope at some carvings on Gorgossium and one is said to be "vaguely human."

-in DoMNoW ch 12, Our Earth/The Hereafter is called The Human World.

-Filth the munkee has a "human cast to his crooked face" in ch 14. What this means precisely is hard to determine because the next description of him doesn't seem very human at all

-DoMNoW chapter 16 includes a part where there is a mural on the wall with two people, "one human, one Abaratian" on it. This implies that the human and Abaratian identities are mutually exclusive. In the same chapter, there is a description of the Totemix. "There were none among the Totemix that were completely human; but then there were none that were completely animal either."

-Ch 21 calls not-yet-finished stitchlings "half-human sacks." This is a scene that just refers to them generally rather than any specific stitchlings.

-Ch 25, of a group of people on a ship: "the flames illuminated a great crowd of folks, some human, many not, assembled in the middle of the deck."

-Ch 26, Jimothi is called "the most humanoid of the tarries" because he walks on two feet. The soldiers sent to patrol ninnyhammer by the high court of the hours are called "human" in contrast to the tarrie cats. When the three monsters killing tarrie cats and humans combine to form mater motley, her shape is described as "unmistakeably human" and the narrative says "Its humanity was no great comfort to Wolfswinkel"

-ch 39 a baby dragon bites finnegan. Later the baby dragon has "the taste of human blood in his throat"

-DoMNoW chapter 43, Candy wonders why Carrion didn't try to mind-control her when he is able to mind-control Malingo. Her guess is that it is because she has a "human mind" as opposed to Malingo's Geshrat one.

-ch 46 Elathuria has a "human form"

-ch50 refers to Candy's family as "human food" and a "human meal" for Abaratian fish

-ch51 Mater Motley's stitchlings are "not all human"

-ch 56 candy's father refers to the people with candy as "not human" and explicitly points out the brothers john and finnegan. He is almost certainly just being a racist shithead about finnegan. The narrative describes Letheo's face as human

-Absolute Midnight chapter 2, Helio Fatha says "humankind can't hold on to a mystery." Jimothi is "purebred Abaratian"

-Chapter 3 involves a crowd of abaratians suggesting that all humans be killed. Izarith gives Candy her hat so Candy can hide her identity. So despite being bepedal and bearing a passing resemblance to a human, Izarith is clearly not going to be considered human by her peers.

-ch4 has a conversation between Pixler and Voorzangler

“Don’t look so worried, Voorzangler,” Pixler said. “I know what I’m doing.” “Of course, sir,” the doctor replied. “But I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t a little concerned.” “Boasting now?” Pixler said. “About what, sir?” “About your humanity. There aren’t very many employees of the company who could say such a thing.”

I think that this is probably supposed to be a metaphorical discussion of humanity rather than a literal one, but I leave it in the notes in case anyone wants to interpret it differently.

-AM ch 10, Covenantis hears princess boa's "human voice"

-ch18, Covenantis sings a spell described with, "These were the primal sounds of an Abarat that was holding the Hours in trust for humankind to one day possess."

-ch 21, the narrative around Boa calls earth the human world.

-ch36 one of the monsters is a pot and one of its ingredients is human meat

-ch 40 maas the half-dragon is compared to a human, but mostly to show how unusual he is

-ch 41 Boa says of Maas, "The closest he gets to having any real humanity in him is when he dines on it."

-ch 50 Rojo Pixler has "human anatomy"

-ch 52 there are "human-headed birds"

-ch 54 the baby Hemosh kills is said to sound like a human but not look like one

-ch 63 a pig looks "almost human"

-ch 71 Carrion reflects on Candy's behavior and thinks about how her human ancestry must make things difficult for her because she has fears of predators and the dark, but he is impressed by her bravery

[holonetnews]

Hunting for Holostardom: Deena Tharen’s Image Overpowers Her Journalistic Integrity

As a fellow holojournalist and an avid observer of the Holobroadcasting landscape, I cannot help but marvel at the rise of Deena Tharen, a holojournalist who has seemingly transcended the ties of her profession onto the holostar catwalk. 

With each glossy holoshoot and glamorous appearance, her name has become ubiquitous throughout the galaxy. But admist the glittering allure, one must question whether her journalistic integrity has been compromised by her relentless pursuit of fame and fortune.

Tharen's trajectory has been nothing short of meteoric. She burst onto the scene with an unwavering determination, armed with a wit as sharp as a vibroblade and the charm of a Zeltron

Her quick rise to prominence raises both eyebrows and a sense of scepticism. It seems that Tharen’s focus has shifted from reading the headlines to becoming a headline, as if she were the titular star of her own holoseries.

It is impossible to ignore the countless holoshoots plastered across the galaxy's holoscreens, showcasing Tharen in fashionable attire that would make even the most esteemed designer blush. While her sartorial choices may be admirable from an aesthetic standpoint, they cast a shadow of doubt on her commitment to her profession. It seems she is more concerned with cultivating a personal brand than delivering hard-hitting stories.

Is she a holoreporter? Or an entertainer? The lines between the distinctly different roles blur as she becomes entangled in a web of glitz and glamour. While Deena may argue that her newfound status as Coruscant’s favourite heartthrob allows her to reach a wider audience, one cannot overlook the inherent conflicts of interest that arise in her wake. How can we trust her impartiality when she is seen rubbing elbows with the very individuals she is responsible for critically analyzing?

Behind her polished smile and elegant demeanour lies a shrewdness reminiscent of Chancellor Palpatine himself. Tharen's calculated charisma and well-rehearsed banter are crafted to charm and disarm, leaving her audience captivated by her presence rather than the substance of her reporting. It's a clever ploy that masks her true intentions, a dangerous manipulation of public perception that undermines the very essence of responsible journalism.

To be fair, Tharen is not without talent. Her sharp intellect and quick thinking have allowed her to navigate the treacherous waters of the Holonet with an enviable finesse. 

However, her undeniable allure should not be mistaken for journalistic prowess. 

We mustn't allow ourselves to be seduced by her silver tongue and enchanting smile, for it is the truth that should captivate us, not mere theatrics.

As a Holojournalist, I am committed to upholding the core principles of my profession—truth, integrity, and a dedication to uncovering the facts. My image is secondary to the stories that I carefully craft.

Tharen's approach, on the other hand, seems to be built on spectacle and self-promotion. While she may capture the attention of the masses, she no longer dares delve into the depths investigative reporting. The kind of which uncovers the uncomfortable truths that lie lurking in the shadows.

As consumers of news, we must demand more than a mere façade of intellectualism. Let us be cautious in our admiration and question the true motives behind the captivating smile. Only then can we ensure that the galaxy receives the rigorous reporting it deserves, untainted by the allure of holostars and the trappings of fame.

— Ishale Vuusen, Holonet News.

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this opinion piece are those of the author, Ishale Vuusen, and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Holonet News.

[sighinastorm]

sartorial determinism

washed up gun from lake michigan

via coravioletwalters

[hantologie]

[T]he contrary subjective identities of transsexuals, the sartorial practices of transvestites, and the gender inversion of butches and queens all work to confound simplistic notions of material determinism, and mirror-style representational practices, in relation to questions of gender. Sex, it turns out, is not the foundation of gender in the same way that an apple is the foundation of a reflection of red fruit in the mirror; "sex" is a mash-up, a story we mix about how the body means, which parts matter most, and how they register in our consciousness or field of vision. "Sex" is purpose-built to serve as a foundation, and occupies a space excavated for it by an epistemological construction project

Susan Stryker, (De)Subjugated Knowledges: An introduction to transgender studies for The Transgender Studies Reader

[infohub-24]

Kaftan Fashion: A Global Flare Always In Trend

Kaftan the exotic wear from our roots <3 is trending in the fashion space, and Aswini has brought out the rich history with a pinch of elegance. In terms of streetwear fashion and luxury items, it is the wardrobe fundamental that ends and begins trends. The other is the versatility, and that has to be us feeling okay with what we put on in between the trends today. In this article, we will determine where the trend comes from and how it evolved from being the uncool regional streetwear to a must for every fashionista around the globe.

What is a Kaftan?

A Diaphanous CaftanThe caftan, that lovely flowy-billowy thing, however, has roots in ancient Mesopotamia. Historically, the kaftan dresses has been a symbol of wealth and royalty that dates back centuries across various cultures from the far reaches of Africa all the way through Asia Fast forward to modern times, and we can see where it has become somewhat of a sartorial staple—half tradition, half must have. Read more...

[winniecouturebg]

Couture Elegance: The Art of Selecting the Ultimate Wedding Dress

As you embark on the exhilarating journey of planning your dream wedding, few tasks can be as daunting as selecting the perfect couture wedding gown. With an endless array of breathtaking options available, it's all too easy to get swept up in the process of trying on dress after dress, unsure of when to finally say "yes" to the one. But how do you strike the right balance and avoid the pitfalls of over-consumption? This comprehensive guide will help you navigate the bridal boutique experience and determine the optimal number of couture wedding dresses to try on your path to finding "the one."

The Perils of Trying Too Many: Overcoming the Overwhelm

Bridal fashion experts caution that when a bride-to-be succumbs to the temptation of trying on an excessive number of wedding gowns, the process can quickly become not only overwhelming but also counterproductive. Instead of focusing on the task at hand - finding the dress of your dreams - you may find yourself feeling increasingly frustrated and perplexed, unsure of how to make a definitive decision. It's essential to avoid getting caught up in the endless search for "something better" and instead hone in on the gown that truly speaks to your personal style and vision for your wedding day.

Striking the Right Balance: A Curated Couture Experience

So, what is the ideal number of couture wedding dresses to try on as you embark on this journey? The experts recommend limiting your visits to the flagship showrooms of three to four designers whose styles you admire most. This way, you can thoroughly explore a curated selection of stunning gowns without getting lost in the sea of endless options. As you try on each dress, take the time to truly connect with it, envisioning yourself walking down the aisle in all its sartorial splendor.

When You've Found "The One": Committing to the Couture Dream

The moment you've selected the couture wedding dress you want to wear on your special day, it's time to stop the search and fully commit to your choice. Resist the temptation to continue trying on gowns, as this may only lead to second-guessing your decision and prolonging the decision-making process. Instead, focus on savoring the experience and ensuring the dress fits you perfectly. Purge any lingering inspiration images or saved designs - it's time to be at peace with your couture wedding dress selection.

The Winnie Couture Difference: Elevating the Bridal Boutique Experience

To make the process of finding your dream couture wedding dress as seamless and enjoyable as possible, consider visiting the flagship stores of Winnie Couture. This premier bridal boutique offers a carefully curated selection of the finest designer gowns, coupled with a plush, personalized shopping experience that caters to the discerning bride-to-be. With their expert guidance and attention to detail, you can streamline your search and confidently select the couture wedding dress that will make you feel like a true vision on your wedding day.

Remember, your wedding dress shopping journey should be a joyful, memorable experience. By following these guidelines and trusting your instincts, you can avoid the pitfalls of overconsumption and focus on finding the couture wedding gown that truly captures your personal style and vision for your most special day.

[carolineandrew1]

What to Look for in a Wedding Suit in London: Style and Fit

Choosing the perfect Wedding Suit London is an essential task for any groom. A well-tailored suit not only enhances your appearance but also boosts your confidence on one of the most important days of your life. London, being a global fashion hub, offers a variety of styles, cuts, and custom tailoring services to meet the diverse needs of grooms. This guide will help you understand the essential aspects of choosing the right style and fit, particularly if you're considering a visit to a high-end tailor like Caroline Andrew, a premier bespoke tailor located in Mayfair.

Style Considerations for Your Wedding Suit

London’s rich sartorial history ensures that grooms have access to some of the best tailoring services and suit styles. When searching for the ideal Wedding Suit London, it’s essential to take the following style elements into account:

1. Suit Type

Classic Two-Piece Suit: A traditional two-piece suit is an excellent option for a formal wedding. It's simple yet elegant, consisting of a jacket and matching trousers. This style is timeless, allowing you to maintain a classic look without overcomplicating your outfit.

Three-Piece Suit: If you want to elevate your look, consider a three-piece suit. The addition of a waistcoat gives a more polished and sophisticated appearance. Groom suits London often feature this style, especially for formal and black-tie weddings.

Tuxedo: For ultra-formal weddings, a tuxedo is the most elegant choice. Paired with a bow tie and crisp white shirt, a tuxedo offers the perfect combination of luxury and style for a groom looking to make a statement.

2. Fabrics

The fabric of your Wedding Suit London plays a significant role in determining both its look and comfort. London's tailors, such as Caroline Andrew, offer a wide range of luxurious fabrics that can be tailored to fit your specific needs. Some popular fabric choices include:

Wool: A classic choice for men's wedding suits in London, wool is breathable, durable, and available in various weights, making it ideal for all seasons.

Cotton: If you’re having a summer wedding, cotton can offer a lightweight and breathable alternative.

Linen: For destination or summer weddings, linen is the go-to fabric, providing a light and airy feel. However, be mindful that linen tends to wrinkle easily.

Velvet: For winter weddings or a more luxurious look, velvet adds a rich texture and depth to the suit, making the groom stand out.

Blended Fabrics: Many groom suits in London are made from blended fabrics that combine materials like wool and silk to offer comfort, breathability, and durability in a single suit.

3. Color

The color of your wedding suit is just as important as its style. The right color choice will depend on your wedding theme, the time of year, and personal preference:

Navy Blue: A versatile and popular option, navy is perfect for any season and suits all wedding types, from casual to formal.

Charcoal Grey: This is a sophisticated alternative to black. It's perfect for autumn and winter weddings and complements a variety of skin tones.

Black: A timeless choice for formal weddings, black suits exude elegance and class. Paired with a bow tie or necktie, it’s a favorite among grooms opting for a sleek, polished look.

Light Grey or Tan: For spring or summer weddings, lighter shades like grey or tan offer a relaxed, yet stylish option. These colors pair well with outdoor or destination weddings.

Burgundy or Deep Green: For grooms looking to break away from tradition, bold colors like burgundy or deep green can make a unique and memorable impression.

4. Lapels

The lapel style of your Wedding Suit London adds subtle detail to your overall look. Tailors like Caroline Andrew will guide you through the best lapel options for your body shape and wedding theme:

Notch Lapel: Classic and versatile, the notch lapel works well for any style of wedding.

Peak Lapel: This is a bolder option, often seen on tuxedos and formal suits. It adds a sharp and structured appearance to the jacket.

Shawl Lapel: Commonly found on tuxedos, the shawl lapel provides a smooth and rounded finish, offering a softer, more sophisticated look.

 

The Perfect Fit for Your Wedding Suit

A suit’s fit is just as crucial as its style. Even the most expensive suit can look unflattering if it's not tailored properly. Here are some key areas to ensure the perfect fit for your wedding suits groom London:

1. Shoulders

The suit’s shoulders should align perfectly with your own. Tailors like Caroline Andrew will ensure that the jacket isn’t too tight or too loose, allowing you to move comfortably while still maintaining a sleek look.

2. Chest and Waist

Your wedding suit jacket should fit comfortably around your chest and waist. There should be enough room to move, but not so much that the jacket looks baggy. A bespoke service, like the one offered at Caroline Andrew Tailoring, ensures a perfect balance, creating a sharp, well-defined silhouette.

3. Sleeve Length

The sleeve length is another critical factor in achieving the perfect fit. Ideally, the jacket sleeves should end at the wrist, with a half-inch of your shirt cuff visible. This small detail can make a significant difference in the overall elegance of the suit.

4. Trousers

For wedding suits for groom London, the fit of your trousers is just as important as the jacket. The trousers should sit comfortably on your waist without needing a belt and fall cleanly over your shoes with a slight break at the hem. Tailoring services like those at Caroline Andrew ensure that every aspect of the trousers, from the waist to the length, is custom-fitted to your exact measurements.

5. Jacket Length

The length of the jacket should be proportional to your height and build. For most men, the jacket should cover the seat of your pants, creating a balanced and flattering look. Tailors in London like Caroline Andrew will ensure that the jacket is tailored precisely to your body shape.

Why Choose Caroline Andrew for Your Wedding Suit in London?

If you're looking for high-quality, bespoke mens wedding suits London, Caroline Andrew offers some of the best custom tailoring services in the city. With years of experience in crafting luxury suits for grooms, Caroline Andrew tailors each suit to reflect your personal style and body shape.

Bespoke Tailoring Experience

One of the key advantages of choosing Caroline Andrew is the bespoke experience. From selecting the finest fabrics to creating a suit pattern that’s unique to you, the entire process is tailored to fit your exact preferences. Whether you prefer a classic or modern look, the expert tailors will ensure that your suit reflects your personal style.

Custom Details

At Caroline Andrew, you have the opportunity to add custom details to your groom suits London, such as:

Monogramming your initials on the inside of the jacket

Selecting unique lining options for a personalized touch

Choosing from a variety of button styles and colors

These small touches help to create a one-of-a-kind suit that’s made exclusively for you.

Convenient Location and Services

Located at 11 St. George Street, Mayfair, London, Caroline Andrew Tailoring is easily accessible, allowing you to attend fittings with ease. The expert team will guide you through the entire process, ensuring that your suit is perfect for your wedding day.

For inquiries or to book a consultation, you can contact them at info@carolineandrew.co.uk or visit their website at carolineandrew.co.uk.

Conclusion

When selecting a Wedding Suit London, it’s essential to prioritize both style and fit. Whether you opt for a classic two-piece suit, a three-piece ensemble, or a tuxedo, ensure that it reflects your personality and wedding theme. With expert tailoring services like Caroline Andrew, you’ll not only find the perfect suit but one that fits impeccably and enhances your confidence on your big day.

[traipseartist]

October 11th - Speed-running Paris

As I decided to emerge from the gloom and impose on dear Aneyn out of nowhere, I was glad to get out of her hair and let her do her day job for a few hours.

Waking groggily from a delicious but potent bottle of wine consumed at dinner the night prior, I managed to rise and dust myself off in time for Aneyn to do me another service. While I futzed around in bed, keyboard-catting yesterday's entry, my lovely host put together a little treasure map to help guide my day. I told her woefully over yesterday's aperitifs that despite this being my fourth time in Paris, the only thing of substance I'd managed to visit on foot was the Bastille. Today I was set to fix this.

Given the seed of a boulangerie ("Boulangerie de Sentier") and a coffee shop ("Noir") none too far from "The Third" (I have learned, a designation for a neighborhood based on... Fibonacci sequences from the Seine?) I had the momentum I needed to pitch myself forward on a chilly but sunny Autumn day in town.

People watching slowed me down immensely. I perched on a bench in the brisk shade and watched beautiful block prints and leather heeled boots clack by. All the men in robust camel coats and well appointed oxford shoes felt like I was loitering in a slightly nicer dimension. I liked to try and determine the Americans amongst the sartorially more complete. Dirty New Balance sneakers. Utilitarian puffy jackets and poorly fit jeans. Even if they could mimic the style they did not carry themselves with the same confidence famous of the Parisians. Or maybe I was only seeing what I wanted to see.

I stared sadly into my already-empty cappuccino cup and said a little thankful grace that I was able to obtain one without a tut or a tisk at the noontime hour. Then I decided to carry on towards the Royal Gardens.

Puttering down the Rues, though, I was inevitably waylaid by a beautiful building with an odd piece of art standing in its plaza.

Working on a whim I decided it was worth the 13€ entry fee and I was rewarded for my curiosity: enter The Bourse de Commerce, explore the Pinault Collection.

Needless to say access to the building alone was worth the entry fee, but the art--an entire collection of modern art from the most famous Italian Arte Povera artists of the era made for the craziest juxtaposition.

Perhaps the most interesting tradition of this era (largely the 60s in urban Italy) was a famous warehouse in Turin where artists could go and set up installations without warning, license, or opening date. What resulted was an odd panoply of different, strange visual demonstrations all on the same concrete plane making for a totally transient, wild, and chatoic environment that the movement thrived off of.

The only thing that really seems to link these artists together is their struggle with nature in the urban context. Much of the art plays with the mathematical or physical aspects of nature that felt rapidly more distant in the technological wash that was the 60s. Reproducing or capturing nature or the randomness of nature seemed important to these artists working with the most banal material accessible to them.

The museum itself stood as a beautiful backdrop to this movement. A blend of hard industrial trying to drag itself back to an older time, something more simple but also far more mathematically complex. The round nature of the building, as you can imagine presents issues with hanging and presenting art on flat canvases. It was a challenge to make this rotunda what it is today.

I suppose it's no surprise it took my eyes and my brain some time to refocus after re-entering the world and slipping back into the chill sunlight. I carried on in my mission to "see things" and marched down the original path on my way to the Royal gardens.

Nothing could be more ornate than this city, I think, sometimes. The history its own, but being softly overwritten by youth reading books and the avid cheat for a good photo. Parks and government buildings hardly whispering of the old and devastating monarchy as such. Will future generations confuse palaces for museums? Who could blame them.

An hour long trot from the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe felt necessary and well rewarded, the warbling of street performaners echoing down the mall. Traces of the Olympics still dangling everywhere, being taken down at breakneck European speeds.

At last I concluded my tour by wiggling past the Opera and other minor (read: holy fuck, major) landmarks on my way back to the 3rd Arrondissement. As an American it continues to feel wild to see the banality of everyday life wrap casually around things that took lifetimes to build. That were dedications to God. That were not made regal or expensive to attract visitors or tourists.

Perhaps it's why the French walk with their heads so high. Not much to see on the ground, is there?