#the feminine hostess

[healthilyathome]

[ohwhereidream]

I think i will try and make this for new years Eve! Maybe as a snack while we watch the Queens speech🥂🩷

Million Dollar Dip Recipe takes less than ten minutes to make, and it is a taste explosion with crisp bacon bits, slivered almonds, sharp cheddar cheese, and green onions. It is always a crowd-pleasing appetizer and one of the first ones to go. 

[burningembers91]

Cosmopolitan Kisses - Cho Hyun-Ju x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Powder Blue Dress

Synopsis: After a night out, the unspoken feelings between you and Hyun-Ju bubble to the surface

Cho Hyun-Ju couldn’t remember a time when she’d be happier. These days, her face ached from the almost constant smile she wore. Life was almost perfect for her, and she had you to thank for that. For the first time in her existence, she didn’t feel like a freak, like a burden. She felt comfortable in her own skin, she felt beautiful when she looked in the mirror. Your friendship had been invaluable; the love, grace and acceptance you’d shown was unlike anything she’d known. She still endured stares, jeers and awkward comments from those around her, but they seemed to bounce off her a little easier these days. There were still days when the words got to her, but she didn’t have to deal with it alone anymore.

She’d found a great friend group, one who’d accepted her just the way she was. There were no uncomfortable questions, no expectations for her to be someone she wasn’t. She looked forward to her weekends, enjoyed doing her makeup and putting on the feminine outfits she’d bought; she enjoyed being absolutely unapologetically herself. If she wasn’t sipping cocktails, she was singing loudly to karaoke or challenging her friends to beat her high score at the arcade. Sometimes she’d invite everyone to her apartment, relishing in the opportunity to play hostess to the friends who’d become the centre of her world. And right there in the middle was you, the girl who’d told Hyun-Ju that you thought she had a beautiful smile. You looked incredible tonight, in a black dressed that hugged you in all the right places. You laughed as your sipped on your Cosmopolitan, listening as one of your new friends told you about a disastrous date she’d been on. Your lipstick had marked the rim of your glass, the bold, rich redness pulling Hyun-Ju in. She got lost in the way your lips looked. The way they arched up when you smiled, the way the tip of your tongue flicked across your upper lip every now and then. She longed to kiss you, to have your lipstick stain her lips. You caught her smiling, offering her one in return.

She was on her third cocktail now, and her confidence was growing. You’d had brief conversations about your dating preferences over the last few months, and you’d all but confirmed that you fell for someone based on their personality, not on their anatomy. But something still stopped Hyun-Ju from taking the next step. A lifetime of rejection and ridicule had made her doubt herself, and she would hate to ruin what you had. “Do you want another one?” you asked, pointing to her almost empty glass. “It’s my round.” She nodded at you, watching as you made your way to the bar, your dress clinging to your figure. How she longed to put her hands on your waist, to pull you into her and feel your lips on hers. It was a scenario she’d replayed in her head and again, the image fuelling her desires on the nights where sleep escaped her.

You weren’t sure how many drinks you ended up having, not including the shots your friends insisted you downed to finish the night. You were well and truly feeling the effect of the cocktails as you and Hyun-Ju stumbled home arm in arm, laughing the whole way. “My feet are killing me,” you groaned, kicking off your shoes as you finally made it back to your apartment. “And I’m starving. Should we order a pizza?” “I already did.” Hyun-Ju flashed you her phone screen, smiling as she saw your face light up. She’d been on enough nights out with you now to know you always got hungry on the way home.

She wasn’t sure what the time was, but time seemed to stand still with you. She pulled a blanket over you both as you crashed on the sofa, resisting the urge to pull you in close to her. The TV was on, but she wasn’t paying attention to the channel, too busy recreating the frankly award-winning performance of 9-5 the two of you had sung at karaoke earlier in the night. Hyun-Ju had tears of laughter streaming down her face by the time the pizza arrived. It felt good to feel this light, to feel this on top of the world. As you stifled a yawn, she knew it was time to head back to her apartment. Back to the silence of her tiny room, where she knew she’d lie awake and think of you.

“I had an amazing time,” you smiled, your arms snaking round Hyun-Ju’s waist as you pulled her in for a hug. Any form of touch from you left her breathless, and tonight was no exception. You smelled like lavender shampoo and vanilla, your body so warm and soft against hers. She didn’t want to let go of you, didn’t want to end the night when she was having such a perfect time. As you parted, your eyes met, and the world seemed to stand still. She could see the steady rise and fall of your chest, could see the way you nervously bit your bottom lip.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you whispered, your fingers entwining with hers. “Are you sure?” Hyun-Ju was so taken aback, so thrown off course that she was sure she’d heard you wrong. Never had she imagined that you, the girl she sang with, confided in and counted on would ever see her as more than a friend. “Yes,” you smiled, “I’m definitely sure.”

Your lips met, soft and slow. The feel of your kiss was electric, sending the most delicious sparks through Hyun-Ju’s entire body. She’d spent months dreaming about kissing you, but the dreams were nothing in comparison to reality. Your hand trailed up her back, coming to rest on the nape of her neck. She sighed contentedly into your lips as your fingers entwined in her hair, a feeling she’d thought about endlessly. She wondered how it would feel if you’d pulled on it, if you tipped her head back and explored her neck with your lips. You were so confident, so sure of yourself, guiding her as your kiss deepened. She placed her hands on your waist, feeling the softness of your curves in the dress she loved so much. She felt you shiver against her touch, heard your soft breathy moan as your teeth gently grazed her lower lip.

Neither of you wanted to pull away, but both of you were so conscious of taking your time, of making sure you got this right. You’d wanted each other for so long, but good things came to those who waited. “I should let you get some sleep,” Hyun-Ju smiled, placing a final soft kiss on your lips. “Come and see me tomorrow?” you asked, unable to resist one more tender kiss. Nodding, she left you, her feet dragging her back to her apartment. She wanted to stay so badly, to feel your body against hers, to make you moan her name. But there were so many things unspoken between the two of you, so many insecurities she hadn’t even begun to face yet.

Hyun-Ju wondered if you’d stay, knowing that she still had so far to go. Relationships were an unexplored territory for her, a place she’d never been. She was terrified and exhilarated at the same time, her hands shaking as she readied for bed.

Her transition journey wasn’t over, and she hadn’t even cracked the surface of the lifetime of negative emotions and thoughts she had stored away. She hoped you’d stay with her while she figured this out, she hoped you could navigate this new journey together. You meant more to Hyun-Ju than she would ever be able to express. You were the girl who thought she had a beautiful smile, the person who, for the first time in her life, made her feel unstoppable.

[eternalsa2z]

Her Name Is Mandi

She received the necklace as a gift. 'MANDI' it said in bold, flashy, gaudy jewelry. At first it didn't make sense...that wasn't quite her name? But as she started to wear it, she began to understand how well it fit her.

M - MADEUP

She started wearing the necklace while applying her makeup. She couldn't miss the name flashing in the mirror as she applied elegant makeup every day. It made sense - she was a high-end aesthetician after all! For some reason she recalled working towards a different goal, like medicine or something. But a little glimpse of her glam necklace and the thought would be covered up like how her makeup painted her face.

A - ALLURING

After a while, her aesthetic changed. She needed something refined and showy to match her necklace at all times. So altered gowns with low necklines and slits up the side filled her wardrobe as her head filled with thoughts of wearing feminine finery. It fit in well with her side-hustle as a hostess at a high-end club. A perfect match to how her necklace nestled between her buxom bosom, which felt bigger and better squeezed by her splendid attire.

N - NEEDY

By now the necklace never left her. Neither did the increasing sense of lust, arousal, and desire. Her head felt emptier with the necklace or a glitzy choker squeezing her neck; instead it was increasingly filled with an obsession with physical beauty, sexy wardrobes, and self-indulgent pleasure. She looked hot; so she felt hot.

Her urges grew until she gave in. She dressed in a scandalous, searing-hot red lingerie set. Constantly licked her plump, inflated, pleasurable lips. Desperately dreaming of satisfying her desires.

D - DOLL-LIKE

Her old sense was hanging by a thread, the opposite of how securely the necklace fit around her plastic form. Desperately she tried to recall who she was, her true self, until an important decision came into her empty head. It didn't matter who she used to be...now she was just a plastic trophy. Built for pleasure, designed to be paraded about, meant to be played with.

The thought broke her brain and cemented her new personality. She was a buxom Barbie. A bratty Bratz. A dumb bimbo doll. Mindlessly she stood frozen, mouth agape, posing in a sexy manner. It was her destiny all along.

I - ICON

The necklace had overwritten her identity completely. She embraced her new self, strutting down red carpets and showing off her enhanced assets. Heads would turn, faces flush, and cameras snap in an attempt to capture her perfect image in their minds forever. She was an bimbo icon yet she kept working to become even feminine, amazingly lovely, and worry-free. In other words - her own ideal!

It turns out the necklace really was a match for her all along. She was a madeup, alluring, needy, doll-like icon. Her name was Mandi. It fit her perfectly.

[ghelgheli]

The epoch of hysteria between 1656 and 1658 found its catalyst in the spontaneous, detailed testimony of someone who I solely re-member here with her chosen name, la Estanpa. Once a linda niña (pretty girl), the now seventy-year-old mestiza found herself apprehended by court magistrates for suspected sodomy in 1656. After initially denying the accusations, an elderly and fatigued Estanpa relented, admitting to having dressed ‘like a woman’ since she was seven and committed the nefarious sin for ‘more than forty years’. Encapsulated within her testimony and larger trial are glimmers of an underground trans feminine world in seventeenth-century Mexico City, of which Estanpa served as a pillar. Coinciding with Catholic feast days, Estanpa and her friends organised parties at changing secret locations, ranging from the secluded countryside to individuals’ homes in the neighbourhoods of San Juan de la Penitencia or San Pablo. Facilitated by trans feminine hostesses, these lively parties consisted of illicit dancing, singing, drinking chocolate and of course inevitable quarrelling over guapos (what they affectionately called the men who loved them), with whom they would eventually retire into rooms for sex. For elders like Estanpa, these parties were also an opportunity to recall ‘the deeds and the conquests of their far-away youth, their lost beauty, and old-time pleasures’.In each other’s company, this cohort referred to one another as niñas (girls), each taking on feminine names following the same convention as ‘la Estanpa’, a title said to have originated from a ‘very graceful lady’. What is certain is that the trans feminine figure held a distinct and explicitly threatening place in the Spanish colonial imaginary. Within underground Mexican subculture, these individuals shared myriad cultural signifiers – in naming practices, celebration of holidays and their habitation in the same neighbourhoods and sometimes homes – that suggest they also established deep-rooted community networks. Perhaps most importantly, despite coordinated and unrelenting legal suppression, trans feminine people would continue to exist and resist across colonial New Spain.

Jamey Jesperson, Trans Misogyny in the Colonial Archive: Re-membering Trans Feminine Life and Death in New Spain, 1604–1821 [doi]

[elrielffs]

Elain was raised as a lady with certain expectations drilled into her from childhood. Be beautiful, be feminine, be demure, be the perfect lady and get a good husband and bear children. This was paramount. This was her life's plan. Do not question it. This was the limit for Elain, the best outcome she could hope for--she could be no more and no less. And Elain did as she was told because she didn't know any better and because Elain's fault is complacency. She performed perfectly.

When we first meet Elain in the cottage, she comes off as nice but dim. We know that she is painted as a "bad sister" alongside Nesta and I know a lot of people like to say "well why does Elain get a pass and Nesta doesn't?" And I think that comes down to where their actions and feelings come from. Elain was never intentionally mean to Feyre, Elain never acted out of maliciousness, she was neglectful sure, but Elain never went out of her way to cause Feyre harm, unlike Nesta.

Elain was used to being taken care of, either emotionally by Nesta or provided for by Feyre and this caused her to fall into a sense of complacency since nothing was expected of her. She accepted the situation and depended on others to change/fix/manage the problems around her and her family while holding on to hope and trying to make the best of the situation to what she thought was the best of her ability. (Selling flowers she grew, getting Feyre paint etc, always trying to be kind)

And when we see Elain again after Feyre leave's Spring Court the first time--Elain is back in the element that she was raised for and flourishing. Everyone loves her, her gardens are spectacular, and her family's standing in society has risen again. The plan for her life is back on track she plays the part perfectly again.

In ACOMAF, the trend continues. She's a wonderful hostess, great communicator, can run a household, is a master at balls and has secured a good marriage and wealthy fiance. She’s complacent with her lot and life and has the happiness that others told her she should want.

Elain thinks she is doing everything right. She endured with her family during the years they were poor and now continued to blossom after all the hard times have passed and accomplished everything that was expected of her and a bonus--she loved her husband to be!

Then the cauldron.

Kidnapped in the middle of the night by fae she's been taught to fear her whole life.

Terror.

The first into the cauldron. Will she drown? Will something worse happen? What about Grayson, what about her marriage, what about this life that she has cultivated perfectly to everyone's standards for her?

Elain is turned fae--Grayson and his family hates the fae.

Elain is claimed by a fae male who she doesn't know, but knows that he was on the side that caused this to happen to her.

And Elain now has powers. Powers that confuse and trick her. Are they hallucinations? Is she going crazy? Is she in the past, present, future?

But it will all be okay, right? It has to, she did everything right. She did everything right.

She see's Grayson, the man she loves, who loves her, who she shared her body with. He'll love her, he'll accept her, and everything will be okay. A mate, powers, being turned fae--it means nothing because Grayson loves her and she will be able to continue on like before.

Except, she can't stay at her home where she had carefully cultivated the life she was supposed to have.

She can't stay among humans but has to be among fae, a race she knows nothing about and has been taught to fear all her life.

And worse of all, Grayson doesn't love her. He rejected her most cruelly.

Everything in shambles. This wasn't supposed to be happen. She did everything she was supposed to--she had everything she was supposed to want. This wasn't supposed to happen.

She did everything right.

She said all the right things. She did all the right things.

It wasn't enough.

Now she has to start over--in a new place with new people. Her sisters are there, Nesta angry and simmering, Feyre important and busy in the life she had made for herself, the life she deserved.

Elain withers. There was no point to any of it. Everything is murky and dark. There is nothing. No one sees her---her.

Then a light. She is seen. Her powers that have haunted her have been given a name. A Seer.

Slowly she begins to recover--to her standards. Making the best of the situation, carving out a new life for herself in a way she wasn't able to before. She gardens, she bakes, she makes new friends with Nuala and Cerridwen. More of her true personality start to come through. She does everything at her own pace. She doesn't go to balls, she doesn't play hostess, nothing is expected of her here.

Except--the mating bond.

She is told that the mating bond is important in fae culture, that bonds are sacred--that because a fae male she doesn't know claimed her as his mate she should talk to him, get to know him, accept the bond. This is what is expected in this new fae culture she is now unwillingly apart of.

It's expected that she'll accept the bond, become his "bride" so to speak, have his children.

Except--she's already done that. She's already done that. She perfected that.

She did everything right and it ended in disaster and here, it's being asked of her again and she doesn't even know or love this male.

No. Not again.

She will not do it again.

Elain was stripped of all autonomy. This is her way of gaining it back. She can't make Grayson love her, she can't become human again, but she can reject the male that everyone says has a claim on her.

Elain is living on Elain's terms now. Elain is doing what she wants and what she expects of herself. We already see her beginning of growth in ACOSF--offering to help scry for the trover rather than depend on others to handle the situation.

I hope a part of her journey reflects that--having Elain find out that her limit is so much more than she has been led to believe, that she is so much more than a pretty lady in a dress, that she can be who she wants to be without repercussions. That people will love her as she is and not what she is expected to be.

That she can make her own choices, what she does, who she loves, how she acts. No longer complacent with what others expect or assume for her.

[caraetdeul]

I Know My Love Should Be Celebrated

Choi Seungcheol x fem!reader

The one time you finally choose to forget.

(with platonic!Jihoon x reader)

TW: angst, angst, angst!!! Hurt/no comfort, somehow toxic relationship, infidelity

A/n: We finally reached the last part of this series! Hopefully, I was able to give justice to this whole thing until the very end. This is probably the very first time I successfully made something as long and crucial as this and I'm just so happy with how it turned out. Anyway, enjoy reading caratdeuls!

Btw, it can be read as gn!reader but there are descriptions of feminine clothes and things.

~Main Masterlist~ | ~Series Masterlist~

The buzz of the restaurant was the first thing that you heard once you stepped foot into the premises but the visual of the restaurant itself was the first thing that filled you with awe.

It was beautiful, to say the least, and you weren’t even in the main hall yet.

The line before the hostess wasn’t a long one but it still made you wait for a few minutes. And frankly, it was worth it. You've been waiting for months to finally be able to set foot in this restaurant ever since you heard about it from Jihoon. His comments about the wonderful food and ambiance of the whole place certainly made you giddy with the need to experience it in person. So when you finally got the chance to make a reservation, you immediately booked it.

You were approximately 10 minutes earlier than your reservation—30 minutes if you didn’t stand by outside the restaurant just to pass the time—which was enough time for you to stand in line before the hostess finally led you to your table. Your whole day was basically planned around this reservation. You were done getting all glammed up an hour before you had to get to the restaurant. You even booked an appointment for your nails the day before just to feel your best tonight. A testimony to how much you were looking forward to this day.

Looking around as you settle down in your seat with a menu in your hands, there was no doubt Jihoon’s stories about the place had even a speck of lie in it. The whole place was gorgeous. The restaurant was divided into 3 parts with a small round stage in the middle and a chandelier hanging above it. The first part was directly connected to the restaurant’s entrance, a whole bar takes up one side with some 4-seater tables around it and a service door leading to the kitchen on the other. The second part was a private dining hall on the back of the restaurant and from the looks of it, it seems like a company has currently reserved the whole area. Lastly, the third part takes up half of the restaurant which was filled with tables and booths as well as a glass door leading to a small garden at the back.

You were seated in one of the booths overlooking the garden outside. An elegant pendant light hangs above your head, its warm light illuminating the table in front of you. A waiter came by to take your order but you politely declined, stating that you were still waiting for someone. And by someone, you meant Seungcheol.

Choi Seungcheol.

Your boyfriend.

The love of your life.

Your significant other for about 3 years.

4 years if you both survive until tomorrow.

You chuckled bitterly at the thought. In less than 24 hours, you were about to celebrate your anniversary for the 4th time. But in less than 10 minutes, he was also able to break your heart, drown you in uncertainty, and smother the warm flame that was keeping you alive. It was no surprise that after that day at the restaurant, you would never be the same ever again. Since then, you felt like you were walking on a tightrope with your relationship hanging on a balance and Seungcheol was just a bystander without a care in the world.

He was the one you always confided in. The one person who truly knows you as a person and embraces your deepest darkest secrets close to his heart. There was never a doubt that you could share your most deranged thoughts with him and he would still kiss you with the touch of a curator that was given the most precious antique of all time. But when you got home that day, a trail of rainwater followed you as you paced around your apartment floor with the steps of a mentally ill patient who was slowly losing their mind.

Nothing felt real at the time. Doubts were flooding your mind with every step that you took. You were struggling so bad to keep your head above water that you can’t even remember how you got out of your rain-soaked clothes and into the safety of your bed. At some point, you do recall something akin to your brother calling and asking where you were. And if you were only lucid enough at the time, you would’ve noticed the worry and a slight hint of tension in his voice.

The next morning, you woke up to the sun's rays hitting your face and your boyfriend snuggled into your side. His angelic face as he slept would’ve been such a sight to behold on a morning like that but it wasn’t heavenly enough to stop the onslaught of memories of the previous night that dropped on you like a ton of bricks right onto your chest.

And just like that, you realized the true meaning of the word ‘sonder’. A term that was used to describe the awareness that everyone in this world has a complex and vivid life just like you do. Because now, you can imagine the person strolling along the road just outside your apartment with their dog by their side as they debate on what to eat for breakfast, oblivious to the fact that a couple’s life together was crumbling down like a poorly made sandcastle just in the window above their head.

It was devastatingly beautiful.

Like a funeral on a sunny day.

In all honesty, you had no idea how to confront him about all of those things. You were trying to find the right time to do just that but every time an opportunity arose, there was always something that stopped you from acting on it. Sometimes, it would be because of something you can’t control. Most times, it was your own self that was stopping you from doing anything. Because even though you just want to claw out your chest with the need to rescue yourself from the pain it is causing, you know deep down that you don’t have the strength to let go of the one thing that’s been the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Now here you were in your best dress, sipping water in a grandiose restaurant, contemplating once again whether or not this would be a good time to talk about it. In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have chosen this place as a venue for your greatest showdown. But you knew that this night would inevitably end on a bad note so what better way to soften the blow than wine and good food, right?

You checked your watch for the nth time before texting Seungcheol once again, asking him about his whereabouts. It was already 47 minutes past your agreed call time and he was still nowhere to be seen nor has he replied to any of your texts. You took a deep breath in frustration, your nails furiously tapping on the table. You didn’t even notice that you were about to empty out your glass until the waiter came back with a pitcher, already refilling it with cold water.

Time passed agonizingly slowly. The torture was only further emphasized by the stares and whispers of people sitting at tables near yours. You already had half a mind to stand on your table and dance to macarena just so they’d actually have something to talk about other than your misery but you restrained yourself knowing that it’s the nerves talking.

Around the 1 hour mark, you finally saw a glimpse of your boyfriend’s figure around the entrance. You sat up more properly, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves as you watched him walk towards your table. He was dressed in an all-black suit and tie that hugged his body just right and his hair was combed up away from his forehead. In short, he was beautiful.

He sat down beside you in the booth, a respectable distance between you to still have enough leeway to face you properly, before huffing, “My God, the traffic was so bad. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“It’s all good,” you smiled at him, “All that matters is you’re here now.”

“Have you ordered anything yet?”

“No, not yet.” You picked up the menu and handed the extra one to him. You then signaled the waiter to take your order.

“Are we ready to order?” the waiter asked, pen and paper ready at hand.

“Yes,” you nodded, giving him your order.

“And how about you, sir?”

“I’ll have the scallops,” Seungcheol replied before taking a sip of his water.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir but we currently don’t have any available right now.”

“Oh.” he looked back at the menu, giving it another once-over before saying, “I’ll just have your steak then.”

“Okay sir,” the waiter responded, writing down both of your orders, “Is there anything else?”

“No, that’s a—”

“And your most expensive champagne, please,” Seungcheol interjected.

You glanced back at him, perplexed. The waiter nodded and left before you could say anything.

You stared at him as he nursed his glass of water, “I thought we weren’t trying to blow through our savings?”

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” he jested.

“I meant why are we spending on such an expensive wine?”

Seungcheol shrugged, “Well, we’re here to celebrate so why not?”

“We could’ve just gotten their usual wine,” you retorted, “It’s definitely gonna be cheaper than what they’re about to give us.”

Seungcheol scoffed, his grip on his glass tightening at the slightest, “You can’t really blame me, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “What are you saying?”

He rolled his eyes before replying, “It’s not like I was the one who chose to celebrate in this high-end restaurant.”

“What the hell are you trying to insinuate?” you asked, clenching your teeth. This was not how you wanted this night to go. The waiter came back with the wine in hand, pouring the both of you a glass each.

Seungcheol thanked the waiter first before answering, “What I’m insinuating, as you so politely asked, is that maybe I’m not the one that’s spending all of our savings in one night.”

You gaped at him, your eyebrows raised at how absurd he was being right now, “I thought you wanted this?”

“No, I didn’t. You did.” he sneered, “You were just yapping so much about this restaurant that I said yes just so you’d shut up.”

You flinched back at his words. You didn’t think you were annoying him so badly with that. And if that was really the case, you’re pretty sure he would’ve never talked to you like that in any way. Because of it, you were more confused than ever over the situation. You narrowed your eyes, observing him for a bit. That’s when you finally noticed the subtle slur of his words and a hazy look in his eyes.

You’ve got to be kidding me, you thought. There’s no fucking way… 

You leaned closer to him, trying to determine whether or not you were just imagining things. He immediately backed away from you but that was enough for you to catch a whiff of his scent. His overwhelmingly alcoholic scent.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he chuckled in confusion, pushing you away slightly with his hands on your shoulders, “What are you doing?”

“Are you…” you started, disbelief written all over your face, “Are you drunk?”

He scoffed, “And so what if I am?”

Your eyes widened, “You are drunk!”

“Would you please keep your voice down?” he hissed, “Other people are looking at us.”

“I don’t care about them!” you shouted, “What I do care about is the fact that we’re out here celebrating our anniversary and you’re drunk!”

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“Then tell me,” you retorted, “What does it look like, huh?”

“My God,” he said, exasperated, “Just let it go.”

“Let it go?” You laughed in disbelief, “Are you seriously asking me to let it go?”

“Yes! I am!” you flinched as he slammed the glass down the table. A tense silence blanketed the both of you, your heavy breaths the only sounds that were coming out from your table. It was obvious that neither of you was backing down. But the tension was cut short when the waiter finally arrived with your orders, greeting you both with comedic timing as if you weren’t just in the middle of tearing each other’s throats.

The whole dinner was spent in silence, the tension thick enough that you could cut it with a knife. And you probably would if you only had a knife in your hand right now. But alas, the clang of your spoon and fork against your plates were the only ones that could cut through. You couldn’t even look at him directly for fear that you would lose what little control that you have on you. This whole situation just further reminds you of the fact that it’s been a long time since you had a decent dinner together.

By the time you were done with your food, Seungcheol was already flagging down the waiter to pay, no doubt eager to finally get out of this restaurant. Within 5 minutes, you were out of the restaurant and walking towards your apartment.

The cold wind of the evening should’ve calmed you down but you guessed it really was only a matter of time before one of you explodes. And in all honesty, it wasn’t that surprising when that person was you.

“Aren’t we gonna talk about what just happened back there?” you stopped in your tracks before facing him but he just continued walking.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Hey!” you chased after him, firmly grasping his wrist and effectively stopping him from getting further away from you. “I’m not done talking.”

“Well, I am so let go of me.” Seungcheol tried wriggling out of your grip but even with all of those muscles, there was no escaping the grip of a woman who’s had enough.

“No, you’re not getting away from me that easily,” you huffed, “You’ve been ignoring me these past few weeks and I’ve had enough of it.”

“When did I ever ignore you?” he threw his hands up in the air, infuriated by whatever you were trying to imply.

“The gallery!” you exclaimed, “You knew how hard I worked for that and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me you weren’t coming!”

“I did tell you!”

“Yeah, okay you did.” you laughed bitterly, “You texted me you were standing me up for your friend after the whole thing was over.”

“Well, that doesn’t change the fact that I told you I won’t be coming.”

“I waited for you!” you cried out, “I waited for you while I was preparing for the event. I waited for you while I was sharing drinks and stories with my family and friends. I waited for you ‘til the very end of the event and even after that, I still waited for you.”

“You didn’t have to.” Seungcheol scoffed, crossing his arms, “You could’ve just left when you didn’t see me 5 minutes into the event. It’s not my fault you still expected me to come when it was obvious that I wasn’t coming at all.”

“Of course, I would wait for you despite all of that! You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you promised me.”

His jaw ticked, his gaze anywhere but on you. You didn’t notice you were crying until you were done talking, finally feeling the cold wind fanning the tears that were streaming down your face. Wiping your tears away, you turned yourself away from him in an attempt to compose yourself. But no protection can ever save you from what’s about to come next.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Sophie,” you heard him murmur, “I knew it wasn’t a good idea to come here.”

“W–what?” you breathed out.

He scoffed, “I didn’t even want to go to that restaurant but Sophie convinced me to go for you.”

“Sophie?”

He hummed, oblivious to the turmoil that was swirling just beneath your skin. It all made sense now. The woman that you saw in that restaurant with him was Sophie. The person he was texting that night at your dinner date was Sophie. The childhood friend he had a reunion with was Sophie. It was all Sophie. His Sophie.

“I’m done.” You declared. Time stood still between the two of you. You finally looked him in the eye, feeling all your resolve fully dissolve from your body. Whatever he saw on your face was probably a sight to behold because you saw the way he immediately sobered up, the weight of the situation finally dawning on him. You finally let go of the single thread that was holding your relationship together. You felt the rage that was once coursing through your veins be replaced with the vicious grip of numbness and indifference as you firmly said, “I’m done.”

“Wh–what do you mean?” he breathed out.

But instead of answering him, you only stared at him. You waited as your silence finally got through his thick head. You didn’t wait around to see how the end of your relationship slowly painted strokes of devastation across his face, finally deciding that it’s time for you to choose yourself. Walking away from him, you took a deep breath. After weeks of coughing up from the smoke of your burning connection, the clean air that filled your lungs was a solace you wouldn’t trade for anything at all starting now.

Taglist: @moonwonuu @belladaises @porridgesblog @sasaapportela @allys-reads @vixensss @clownprincehoeshi @gyuguys

(To everyone in the taglist, please let me know if you still want to be tagged in future works of mine. Thank you for reading and supporting! I love y'all so much 🥹🫶)

[transladybev]

Exquisite look.....loving her hose and heels selection....

[healthilyathome]

[estesphantom]

Dinner With the Laswells | John Price x Reader

Summary: Just a little cute fluff one shot for everyone that loves John and Laswell’s platonic soulmate-ship as much as I do. John is whipped for the wifey.

——————

The door slowly closed behind both you and John as you entered the warm, cozy restaurant which smelled heavenly. Your stomach was empty. The hostess smiled warmly at the both of you and began talking to John about a reservation and a table. Your arms held each other as you softly clutched your stomach, the silk fabric of your dress encasing your skin comfortably.

You were dressed like the perfect wife you were — a pretty, simple dress with soft curls and makeup that accentuates your features even more. It’s no surprise John is always all over you. You’re as pretty as a vine.

You snapped out of the thought of how empty your stomach was as the hostess began to walk away and John put a soft hand on the small of your back to signal to follow her. Your feet immediately kick into movement and the two of you followed the hostess to a table where two women sat. They looked older than John, but not so much that they were “old” in general. Either way, they looked amazing for whatever age they gave off to you.

The table was tucked off into a corner of the restaurant where not many people were. John immediately pulled a chair out for you as the two women greeted the both of you. John had mentioned earlier about meeting a woman he was close with and her wife — the Laswells. He had told you that the blonde one was the one who worked with him and messed with him whenever she would get the chance.

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” you smile warmly at them as you shake their hands after taking a seat.

After a few minutes of awkward small talk, John and Kate got to talking about their latest mission. Often you’d like to talk to John about his missions, but this conversation would be weird to butt into. Kate’s wife seemed to get the same feeling as she turned to talk to you.

“Sometimes I wonder if Kate vowed the same thing she did to me at our wedding as she did to her job,” her wife, Lauryn, chuckled. Your eyebrows raised and you immediately began to laugh with her. Your spouses didn’t seem to pay attention.

Before you could respond, the two of them broke from their conversation to ask you something.

“How did the two of you meet again..?” Kate asked, glancing between the two of you. John’s hand reached for yours.

You snicker, “I worked at a boutique where John was deployed. He walked in one time in his dirty uniform asking for some sun screen. His face was so red and peely, I took pity on him.” John’s hand massaged his temples as Kate and her wife raised an eyebrow at John.

“Captain Price in a feminine little boutique? Must’ve looked like a bull tip-toeing around fine China,” Kate remarked, earning a scoff from your well-prided husband.

“It was the first place I saw,” he said with his hands up to defend himself. Kate crossed her arms as you giggle at this exchange.

“And you was impressed by the sight of him?” Her eyebrow raised again. Kate raised her glass as she pointed to him and her eyes were on you.

John’s hand met yours under the table as they went back and forth, bickering like an old married couple. You found yourself jumping in a few times to side with Kate in making fun of John. Minutes felt like milliseconds as the four of you joked like long-time friends.

You’d be lying if you were scared before you arrived that you wouldn’t impress Kate, or she’d find you too soft for him, or judge you right away. It was the complete opposite. She was welcoming, nice, and kind. So was her wife, and the two of you found yourself exchanging numbers at the end of the dinner because she wanted someone to talk to while your spouses were out on deployment.

When you all wished each other well, John helped you into his truck and as he slid your heels off which were previously torturing your feet, he smiled at you with a shit-eating grin.

“I told you that you’d like them,” he says, sliding one of your heels off.

“I never doubted you.”

He kisses your forehead before he tosses your heels into the backseat. He looks down at you lovingly as his thumb rubs circles on your hand. Your heart stops. You always wonder how he makes you feel like a teenager in love.

“I never doubted that they would fall in love with you the moment they saw you. I was made for you, yeah? Never leave me,” he implores, kissing more on your forehead. You giggle as the kisses tickle your face.

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

The show does a really bad job of explaining what the hell is going on from Lian's side of things.

So here's what the novel says:

Lian has never felt good about the engagement to Kuea.

He loves Kuea, truly and deeply, but he, his parents, and even Kuea's parents are really uncomfortable about how it was handled by Kuea's grandfather.

Lian was a teenager, but Kuea was a CHILD, only 6 years old. And it was never a matter of "They'll decide their relationship dynamics between themselves", Kuea has been raised this whole time being told he would be Lian's wife. Being told he had to study his mother and be the perfect Lady. An ornament to decorate Lian's arm, something beautiful to elevate Lian in the eyes of others.

That was what Kuea's mother was for his father. And it's what worked in their dynamic- no shame if that's what both parties want from the relationship.

Side note: Kuea's father hates Lian, hates this deal, and helped Kuea create Kirin specifically because he wanted Kuea to have freedom and be messy. Kuea's father is very much the Final Boss Lian must face to win Kuea's hand.

Lian was his beloved older brother, but then suddenly became distant, and Kuea has been chasing after him ever since. Kuea was too attached to Lian, and Lian, his parents- even Kuea's parents too were afraid that Kuea was kind of being programmed towards Lian.

He left Kuea alone and ignored him at parties so that Kuea would be forced to socialize with other people. Lian was actually the one to bring up the idea of Kuea studying in Europe- to get him away from Lian, isolate him off on his own somewhat so that he is wholly unwatched and unobserved.

Lian wants Kuea to live. He wants him to make friends, have secrets, hell, fall in love- he cannot stand the idea of Kuea being forced into this marriage by the expectations of their elders. He wants a genuine partner, not someone brainwashed.

By this point in the story, Lian has been a fan of Kirin for 4 years (from early in his youtube days), and has known Kirin is Kuea for two years.

Kuea developed exactly as he wanted- he has a personality of his own, interests of his own, a whole life of his own---

But he hides it all behind exactly what Lian *never* wanted. A doll. The Kuea that Lian is fighting with here is a Kuea he can never love. The one programmed to be his perfect little "wife".

Kuea, in this mode, thinks of himself along feminine lines. He considers his mother the ultimate Lady, and wants to be exactly like her for Lian. Gentle, warm, kind, popular with the bluest blood in society. The perfect hostess of galas and parties to elevate Lian in the eyes of others.

But Lian doesn't want an act.

He doesn't want Kuea shoving himself into a box because he thinks that's what is expected of him. He wants the messy drummer. He wants a Kuea who follows his heart and does whatever the fuck he wants, whenever the fuck he wants.

Lian wants what he has wanted ever since he was a teenager:: Kuea, but the real Kuea. The one who will fight him if he's wrong, hate him if he's a dick, and love him only if he deserves that love.

[tainbocuailnge]

Logos's title in English on his intro tweet is officially "'Hostess' of the Convallis of the Banshees" it seems. In the Japanese translation, "Hostess" is instead "主" which is like "head of house". While I can kind of see the connection for how they might've gotten "Hostess", I feel like they could've picked a better word, perhaps "Dame" or "Mistress", but also maybe I'm missing something. I'd like to know your perspective on this.

that bit is from the first part of his archive files so it's easy to find that the chinese is 女主人 which a dictionary is telling me means "hostess" or "mistress" as in 主人 meaning "head of the house" and 女 specifying this head of house as being female. if anything it's strange that the japanese version removed the explicitly feminine aspect of the title since 女主人 is very much a real word in japanese that means the same thing.

personally I think it's good that they went with hostess since that's more of a job title compared to dame or mistress being personal forms of address so it acknowledges the banshees as like a female sociopolitical entity without feeling like they're misgendering or condescending the pretty blatantly transgender exception. i also like that the title is a pretty humble 'head of house' instead of king/queen/supreme ruler/etc it really suits how gentle they are culturally

[slaymitchabernathy]

All in the Timing

Coriolanus Snow is many things.

He’s rich.

He’s successful.

He’s important.

He’s being stared down by a small child right now.

The last one concerns him.

It’s not that he despises children, but he’s never been drawn to them. Perhaps he worries about coming off as creepy, nothing screams ‘child predator’ like handing out candy to children at the zoo. It doesn’t help that he’s a rather large man, well, large in his stature with his broad shoulders and long legs.

But this child, this small little girl is staring him down while he waits for his friend Festus to close their tab at the bar. They’re at one of their favorite restaurants, the Grand Oak and he’s standing near the host stand, doing his best to ignore the little girl.

But she’s hard to ignore.

She has these blue eyes, but they’re not just blue, they have hints of gray in them as well, making her quite the startling child. Whoever her mother is certainly passed down her genetics because this little girl has been blessed with long blonde hair and an adorable face.

She's standing near a group of adults all getting their coats from the coat check so he can only assume she belongs to one of them. She must be very well-behaved if she was brought into an establishment such as this one, known for its fine dining experience.

Someone claps his shoulder and pulls him back into reality, “All closed up Snow.” He rolls his eyes at the nickname that Festus gave him all those years ago as if calling him by his first name is so difficult.

“Let’s hope you paid the correct amount this time,” Coriolanus mumbles, giving Festus a knowing glare. The last time he trusted Festus with a responsibility such as closing their tab, he only paid half and Coriolanus had to come back the next day to pay the rest of it.

But Coriolanus can’t help but look back over at the little girl who’s still watching him, Festus now on her radar. Festus who has an infant son waiting for him at home grins and gives her a wave, “Oh, she’s so cute. You know, it’s never too late to settle down and start a family Snow.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, it sounds nice but starting a family means finding someone to love him unconditionally and that seems impossible.

He offers the girl a small smile, hoping he doesn’t frighten the child but she visibly perks up and smiles back.

“Ceraphina darling, let’s put on your coat.”

A gentle, feminine voice from the group of adults draws the little girl's attention away from Coriolanus and Festus and she turns around to face one of the most beautiful women Coriolanus has ever seen.

This woman is undoubtedly her mother. With her long blonde hair that falls down to her waist, her tan complexion, and her rosy pink lips. She’s gorgeous.

And she’s holding a miniature version of the pink coat she’s wearing, so she and her daughter can match.

The little girl's face lights up as her mother crouches down to help her into the coat and she leans in, tapping her mother's shoulder and whispering something that causes her mother to tilt her head to hear her better.

Coriolanus can only imagine what the child says but a moment later, he’s got two pairs of blue-gray eyes looking up at him.

The woman offers him a small, polite smile before rising to her full height once again, wrapping her coat around her frame and taking her daughter’s hand, “Let’s go, darling.”

She offers him a small nod, out of sheer politeness no doubt and her daughter gives him a wave, which makes him chuckle, she is a rather sweet child.

Their entire group slowly makes their way out into the cold winter night and the last man in the group looks somewhat familiar to him. He’s got brown hair and glasses hanging onto the bridge of his nose for dear life as he wraps a winter scarf around his neck.

He says a word of goodbye to the hostess behind Coriolanus and Festus and their eyes meet for a moment, leading Coriolanus to wonder even more where he’s seen this man before.

“He looked familiar,” he says to Festus once the lobby is empty, “have we met him before?”

Festus shrugs, pulling out a cigar, “We’ve met lots of people,” he tells Coriolanus, helping with nothing,” maybe he was in one of our quarterly meetings.”

Coriolanus nods but doesn’t quite believe him, “Maybe.”

꧁ ꧂

“I’m afraid we don’t have this in your size in this department Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus can’t stop the frown from growing across his face when given that disappointing news. He’s shopping for a new pair of leather shoes and apparently, it’s hard to find a size ten these days.

He sighs, shaking his head, “It’s fine. Don’t worry abo—“

“But we do have one pair of shoes in the women’s department according to our system. I guess someone left them up there by mistake,” the associate interjects, giving him that customer service smile that he truly despises.

Coriolanus clears his throat, he hasn’t ever gone up to the women’s section but there’s a first time for everything. “Alright. I’ll head up there.”

It’s a short ride on the escalator and Coriolanus is blown away at how much more there is on this floor compared to the men’s. Racks and racks of clothes, a whole makeup department.

A complete step up from the men’s department.

But he’s not here to linger. He’s here to get his shoes.

He makes his way toward the shoe section of the store, passing by several beautifully wrapped gift boxes since the holiday season is upon them once again.

He’s surprised at how empty it is up here, only a few women can be seen milling around the clothing racks but the shoe section is wide open. Right next to the children’s section.

He approaches the associate who immediately perks up once she lays eyes on him, “Mr. Snow?”

“That’s me,” he nods, “I was told there were some shoes in my size up here.”

“Yes sir. Let me go get them for you.”

Coriolanus thanks the woman before she disappears into the back room and he’s left alone once again, this time feeling a bit out of place right next to all the baby clothes. They’re all so tiny, adorned with ruffles and bows.

He reaches out to touch a small dress made for an infant when a voice startles him, “Hi!”

He looks all around him, unable to find where the voice came from until he hears a giggle. “I’m down here.”

Coriolanus can’t hide his disbelief when he looks down to find the same little girl he saw at the Grand Oak looking up at him, a bright smile on her face, swinging her arms back and forth.

“Hello,” he gets out, taking a cautious step back. Her mother must be around here somewhere, probably shopping. “I remember you,” the little girl continues, taking a step toward him, “you have blue eyes like me.”

Coriolanus wants to point out that she has more gray in her eyes than blue but she’s already talking about something else, “Why are you on this floor? My Mommy says this floor is for girls and you’re not a girl.” She looks him up and down suspiciously as if she’s making sure he’s not a freakishly tall woman in disguise.

Coriolanus scratches the back of his neck, he’s never met such an outgoing child before, “I came up here to get some shoes that should’ve been in the men’s department,” he explains, “I wasn’t aware that I’d be in a ladies presence.”

The little girl lights up at his comment, considering her a lady, “I’m five years old,” she tells him proudly, “and I’m gonna be five and a half in January.”

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows, seemingly impressed, “Well that’s a very smart age to be.”

“Mhm. It is. I get to see my friends tomorrow at scho—“

“Ceraphina!”

Both Coriolanus and Ceraphina jump when her mother appears, flushed in the face, “What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”

Ceraphina clasps her hands behind her back and looks down at the floor, doing her best to look guilty, “You said not to Mommy.”

Her mother nods, placing a hand on top of her head, “That’s right. You can’t run off and go talking to people you don’t know.”

Ceraphina scrunches her face and looks up at her mother, her eyes wide and pleading, “But I do know him, Mommy. He was at the restaurant, remember?” She points right at Coriolanus which means he’s not getting out of this unscathed.

Her mother’s eyes travel up his body, and he must say, she looks even prettier during the daytime. He can see that she has freckles all over her face, making her eyes pop even more.

“I do remember,” she murmurs, brushing her hair behind her ears, “but that doesn’t mean you can just run off without telling me, darling.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want her to get in trouble, even though she did run off. She seems like a sweet child. “I do apologize,” he says, “I remembered both of you from the other night. I assumed you’d be within a safe distance from her but I shouldn’t have engaged in any conversation.”

Ceraphina’s mother looks him up and down, she’s on guard, protecting her baby from this strange man. “No need to apologize,” she finally says, pulling Ceraphina towards her, “I remember you as well. I’m sorry if she was bothering you.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, offering her a kind smile, “She’s not a bother at all.”

Ceraphina looks at her mother triumphantly, “See Mommy? I’m not a bother at all.”

Her mother sighs and shakes her head, “We should get going, we have to stop by your grandfather's office before we go home.”

Coriolanus wants to ask for her name, ask who her father is, and if it’s the gentlemen he saw the other night with her group but they’re all interrupted by the sales associate who chose the worst time to show back up.

“Here are your shoes, Mr. Snow!”

A wave of recognition washes over Ceraphina’s mother’s face but she doesn’t say anything further before they both walk off, Ceraphina looking over her shoulder to wave goodbye.

He waves back because who doesn’t wave back at a five-year-old? But he can’t help but watch them as they go, watch how her mother holds Ceraphina’s hand as they walk onto the escalator, reassuring her that it’s safe.

They’re both wrapped up in their winter coats again, this time both of them are light blue, bringing out their eyes. They’re practically twins which makes him wonder who her husband is. He must know the man from somewhere. He should’ve asked. That would be less creepy than asking who her father is.

“Mr. Snow?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes the shoes. I’ll take them.”

It seems as if fate led him to run into those two again, so he can only hope that the third times the charm.

꧁ ꧂

꧁ Two Weeks Later ꧂

This meeting is taking forever.

Coriolanus drums his fingers against the long mahogany table, somewhat listening to Urban Canville while he drones on and on about meeting quotas and whatnot.

Coriolanus looks over at Festus whose head is tilted back, mouth wide open while he sleeps. Coriolanus wishes he could sleep right now, but with his luck, he'll get caught out. Festus has a knack for getting out of trouble.

"And that," Urban says, slapping the table with his hand, waking up Festus in the process, "is how we're going to be the most successful firm next year." Festus blinks several times, pulling at his necktie, "Yes, yes, good spirits and whatnot for the new year," he mumbles, getting a few nodding heads from their other colleagues.

Ubran smiles, pleased that this meeting has gone so well for him since he was promoted, "Exactly Festus. Now, don't forget about the holiday party, plus ones are allowed but keep the drinking to a limit," he eyes Festus who holds his hands up in surrender, "Someone has to be the life of the party," Festus counters.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, Festus just loves being the center of attention, let alone the party.

Urban doesn't look too convinced, but he dismisses them and Coriolanus is the first one out the door. He's got to finish his yearly report before he can mentally clock out for the rest of the holiday season. He knows Festus will procrastinate and do it at the last second, but Coriolanus prides himself on being timely and dependable.

"Well that took forever," Festus grumbles, meeting him at the end of the hallway, "someone should introduce him to bullet points because that meeting was the entire essay." Coriolanus grins as they round a corner, leading them to the lobby of the fifth floor where the elevators and receptionist desk are located.

The lobby has been decorated for the holidays with garlands and fake pine trees, making the atmosphere more lively. Coriolanus spots the receptionist talking to someone on the phone animatedly, all while glancing over her desk. He frowns, wondering what's gotten her so worked up.

Maybe someone delivered a package to the wrong floor, that's happened before and it's always a mess trying to get it to the right place. But as Coriolanus and Festus round the desk, they come face to face with Ceraphina. Again.

This must be fate.

She brightens up when she sees two familiar faces, Coriolanus more specifically.

"Hello!"

This girl has clearly never met a stranger before.

Coriolanus grins down at her, "Hello, fancy seeing you here."

Ceraphina nods, glancing back at the receptionist who's still rattling off information on the phone, "My grandfather works here," she tells him proudly, putting her hands on her hips. She's wearing a pink dress with long sleeves and little white boots with a pink bow in her hair.

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows and glances at Festus who seems interested as well as to who her grandfather is. "And who might that be?" Festus asks, leaning forward to hear her better. The receptionist sets the phone down loudly, causing all three of them to jump, "She's Glen Nightingale's granddaughter," the woman says with a sigh, "I don't know how she got down here but he's been looking for her everywhere."

Glen Nightingale.

He should've known her grandfather was one of the head owners of the firm. He's practically in the presence of greatness, even if the greatness is only five years old, riding on five and a half.

"How did you get down here?" Coriolanus asks her, knowing that the most important people work on the very top floor. He would know since he works on the floor below them, so close to being at the top.

Ceraphina giggles and bounces on her toes, "I took the elevenator."

Festus chuckles, "You mean the elevator?"

She scrunches her face, shaking her head, "That's what I just said."

"Well, Miss Ceraphina, it seems that I have to take you up to your grandfather's office," the receptionist says with a sigh, acting as if she's so burdened by this responsibility suddenly. Coriolanus chews on his bottom lip a moment before finally making up his mind, "I can take her."

Ceraphina quickly nods and reaches up for his hand, taking it without hesitation, "Yes! He works on the tippy-top floor, it's very high up in the clouds."

Coriolanus nods along while they walk towards the elevator, ignoring the smirk he's getting from Festus. Ceraphina waves goodbye to the receptionist before the doors close, "I can press the button!" She says, swatting away at his hand when he goes to press it.

"You wouldn't happen to be taking her so that you can run into her mother again would you?" Festus whispers, nudging Coriolanus with his elbow, earning him a sharp look from Coriolanus. He made the mistake of telling Festus about his encounter with Glen Nightingale's daughter and granddaughter in the department store the other week and now Festus is convinced that it's a sign.

It would be if Ceraphina's mother wasn't married with a child.

"I'm simply being a good-hearted samaritan, looking to spread some holiday cheer," he replies, looking straight ahead to ignore any teasing looks he might get from Festus.

Festus only scoffs before the doors slide open, letting them out on the top floor. "Can we go again?" Ceraphina asks, tugging on his hand. Coriolanus shakes his head although it's hard to tell her no to anything when she gives him those pleading eyes, batting her eyelashes up at him. How do people ever say no to their children?

"We better find your grandfather's office," he tells her, leading them through the lobby and down the hall. He looks over at the large painting hanging on the left wall, every founder of the company is pictured with a stern-looking face. Glen Nightingale's face looks down on them as they pass by, making Coriolanus feel a little bit nervous about this plan of his now that they're nearing the end.

He hopes that Glen is nice, that he's not some asshole who thinks of himself as being better than everyone else. He at least must love his grandaughter if he brought her with him to work today.

"Ooo, danish delights," Festus says, beelining for the breakroom, "I'll catch up with you later."

Coriolanus needn't be told twice.

Nothing sounds worse than Festus trying to crack a joke with Glen Nightingale, the man who writes their paychecks every two weeks so Coriolanus doesn't fight him on it.

"Do you know my grandfather?" Ceraphina asks him, taking three steps for every step he takes. Coriolanus nods, doing his best to remain calm, cool, and collected, "I do. Well, I know of him," he corrects himself, not needing her to repeat false information, "I work for him."

Ceraphina hums, starting to skip instead of walking down the hall of the most important offices in the entire building, "Lots of people know my grandfather. Mommy says it's because of his job."

Coriolanus wonders if he might run into her mother again, probably not. "Yes, he's a well-known face in the Capitol," he agrees.

They finally reach the end of the hall, coming to a stop in front of the ominous doors that lead to Glen Nightingale's office. Coriolanus braces himself to know, raising up his other hand but Ceraphina beats him to it, shoving the doors open like she owns the place.

"I'm back!"

Coriolanus stays planted in the hallway while Ceraphina prances into the office, her grandfather watching her from behind his large desk. A wall of windows is behind him, giving Coriolanus a gorgeous view of the Capitol skyline. "Where'd you run off to this time sweetheart?" Glen asks, peering over the rim of his glasses at his granddaughter who happily runs around his desk to give him a hug.

It's a sweet sight to witness the important and powerful Glen Nightingale picking his granddaughter up and swooping her into his lap, tickling her and making her laugh. "I went downstairs," she giggles, pushing his glasses further up his nose, "they have a Christmas tree in the lobby downstairs, why don't you have one on your floor?"

Glen smiles, brushing some of her hair out from her face, "I'll have them set a tree up tonight. It'll be here the next time you come and visit, how does that sound?"

"Perfect!"

Glen's attention is finally drawn to Coriolanus who feels so fucking awkward watching this interaction that is a very private one. Many things can be said about Glen Nightingale from a business perspective, but no one really knows anything about his private life.

"And who might you be? Not another grandchild I hope, you're far too old to be running around my building."

Coriolanus grins and Ceraphina gasps, shaking her head and tugging on Glen's shoulder, "He's not your grandchild! I'm your grandchild! He works here," she points at Coriolanus, "we saw him at the restaurant remember?"

Glen seems to remember that short-lived interaction and he nods, "Yes, I do recall seeing your face that night. Snow isn't it?"

Coriolanus can't believe this man knows who he is, even if it's only by his last name. That's a step up in his book. "Yes sir. Coriolanus Snow."

Ceraphina wiggles out of Glen's lap, running over to a small seating area where there are all sorts of dolls and stuffed animals laid out over the rug and furniture, "The receptionist on the fifth floor was going to bring her here but I offered to do it instead. I hope you don't mind."

Glen waves him in, an offer Coriolanus gladly accepts once he closes the doors behind him, "Nonsense," Glen says, shaking his head, "you're a man who takes initiative, a man who remembers faces and looks out for those who are in trouble. Although my little Ceraphina is rarely ever in trouble."

Ceraphina looks over her shoulder at him, her eyes lit up with excitement, "Mhm, I'm very well behaved." Both men chuckle and Glen rises from his chair, "And very modest too."

Coriolanus watches her play with her dolls, in her own little world really. "She's very well-mannered," he tells Glen, "I've never met such a confident child, especially a young lady." Most little girls he's come across have hidden behind their parent's legs, not wanting to talk to him at all and he can't really blame them, he's not the most approachable-looking man with his stern face.

But Ceraphina doesn't seem to think so.

Glen stops next to him, both of them watching his granddaughter play," Yes," he agrees, "she's very extroverted. It's my daughter who's the shy one, makes me wonder where Ceraphina got all her spunk."

Before Coriolanus can ask where exactly Glen's daughter is, the doors fly open, this time it's a taller blonde with blue-gray eyes opening them, "You found her?"

It's Ceraphina's mother, panting which means she probably ran to get here. She looks flustered, and she clearly didn't expect to see Coriolanus standing in her father's office, "Coriolanus here found her," Glen says, patting Coriolanus on the shoulder while he tries to look like he's not kissing up to her father.

"Oh thank goodness," she says, rushing past both of them to get to Ceraphina who smiles up at her, oblivious to how many people have probably been looking for her. "Mommy, can we go get lunch now?"

Her mother nods, looking back over at Coriolanus for a moment before crouching down to be at eye level with her daughter, "You can't run off like that darling," she says softly, holding Ceraphina's face in her hands, "someone else could've found you and taken you. That's why I tell you not to talk to strangers, you're all I have."

Coriolanus frowns, all she has?

"She's perfectly safe here Soarynn," Glen says to his daughter.

Soarynn, what a beautiful name.

Soarynn sighs, shaking her head, "You don't know that," she tells her father, standing back up and walking over to them, "he's not going to be there every time she runs off," she gestures towards Coriolanus, "and your secretary isn't being paid to watch after her either."

Well, this is awkward.

Coriolanus takes this as an opportunity to admire how Soarynn looks today, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her outfit today is a gray dress, fitting her perfectly at the waist and stopping above the ankle.

"I don't think we've formally met," he says, reaching out his hand to her, "I'm Coriolanus Snow."

Soarynn looks at his hand, not immediately taking it which makes him feel so stupid but she finally takes it and he can't help but notice how small her hand is, how soft and dainty it feels in his large hand.

"I'm sorry we have to keep meeting like this," she says, pulling her hand from his, and Coriolanus is quick to shake his head, "Don't be. There's worse people to constantly be running into."

Stupid, stupid, he chides himself, why did he have to word it like that?

But it seems that Glen Nightingale is on his own agenda because he places his hand on Soarynn's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Perhaps you two could arrange a meeting, like over dinner, lit by candlelight."

Soarynn scoffs, giving her father a nasty glare, "I don't think Coriolanus is inter-"

"Well you never know until you ask honey," Glen cuts her off, "and I don't see a ring on his finger. You're not married are you Coriolanus?"

He feels...caught for some reason but Coriolanus quickly shakes his head, flashing the father-daughter-duo a smile, "No sir. I'm free as a bird."

Glen hums, "See? It's as easy as that."

Soarynn looks desperate to get out of this conversation, slapping her father's hand away, "It's not as easy at that," she tells him, "and I think we're going to go to lunch. We'll see you at home."

Glen doesn't fight her on it, simply watching Soarynn help Ceraphina gather all her toys into a bag before putting on their coats, "Goodbye!" Ceraphina says, running over to give her grandfather a hug. Glen kneels down, groaning when she throws her arms around her neck, "Goodbye my girl, enjoy lunch and be good for your mother."

Ceraphina smiles, placing a kiss on his cheek, "I will!"

She looks up at Coriolanus a bit unsure of how to say goodbye to him, "Thanks for rescuing me." Coriolanus chuckles, he'd hardly consider that rescuing but he's glad she sees it that way, "It was my pleasure," he tells her.

Ceraphina is out the door before anyone can say another word, that girl is a little busybody if he's ever seen one. Soarynn sighs, offering him a polite smile, "Thank you for bringing her back."

"Of course."

He hoped she might say a little bit more but Soarynn Nightingale is a woman of few words apparently because she turns to her father, giving him a kiss on the cheek before promising to see him at home, and just like that, she's gone.

The office seems much more empty now that it's just the two of them.

"You have a beautiful family," Coriolanus tells Glen, and he means it too. If his family ever ends up being half as lovely as Glens, he'll consider himself a successful man. Glen grins, pushing his glasses back up his nose once again, "Thank you. I'm very lucky to have both girls in my life. I do apologize for trying to set you up on a date with my daughter, she's just so shy and you seem like a good man Coriolanus Snow."

Those words mean more than Glen could ever know, but Coriolanus doesn't let it show, simply nodding, "Thank you, sir, I try to be."

He really does, and he's going to make it his new mission to find out more about Soarynn Nightingale.

꧁ ꧂

"It says here that Glen Nightingale's wife died twenty-four years ago."

Coriolanus frowns when he hears what Festus has found during their "research session." If he can even call it that. They're both sitting in his study at home, nursing glasses of whiskey. Festus needed to get out of the house and away from his crying son, and Coriolanus needed an assistant to help him find out more about the Nightingales.

It worked out for both of them.

"Soarynn looked to be around twenty-four," he mumbles, flipping through old newspapers, "so that could mean that..."

He doesn't want to finish his sentence, doesn't want to suggest that it could mean that Mrs. Nightingale died during childbirth, much like his own mother when trying to give birth to his little sister.

"It says she died giving birth to their only daughter, Soarynn Nightingale. Wow you were right, she is very pretty. Anyways, it says he has one grandchild, Ceraphina Nightingale, but I can't find anything else about Soarynn."

He already knows that. What he wants to know is where is Ceraphina's father? He's clearly not in the picture if Glen is trying to set Soarynn up with dates, but Soarynn seemed so withdrawn from the idea. Repulsed even, and he took that personally.

"It doesn't say anything about a father?"

"Nope. But maybe she never got married since she still has her maiden name."

Or she's divorced, Coriolanus thinks, flipping through more articles.

Festus sighs, stretching in his armchair, "I mean, think about it, if Ceraphina is five, and Soarynn is twenty-four, then that means she had her when she was nineteen. And no one from a prominent family like hers is just having kids on purpose at nineteen. I think it was wedlock."

Coriolanus frowns, that actually might make sense, which is terrible.

"But then she would be married," he counters, "if she did get pregnant by accident, the families would have them get married before announcing the pregnancy to cover it up and there's no way they'd allow for a divorce."

When you're in a prominent family such as the Snows, the Nightingales, or the Creeds, divorce is a recipe for disaster. No one gets divorced unless there's a case of abuse.

If Soarynn did get married out of wedlock, she'd have a ring on her finger.

"She still lives with her father," Festus points out, "so maybe she did get divorced but they just covered it up really well."

Maybe, but that still seems unlikely.

Coriolanus groans and grabs another stack of newspapers, "No, it has to be something else. Glen wouldn't be that...passive and encouraging if that was the case. He was trying to set us up on a date, what type of father does that if his daughter had a baby out of wedlock and then turned around to get divorced?"

Festus shrugs, "A terrible one," he jokes, not getting a single laugh out of Coriolanus who merely rolls his eyes in response. Coriolanus keeps going through newspapers, searching for something, anything.

Then he lands on a tragic page. A page mentioning a terrible car accident, with no survivors.

"What're you looking at? Oh, I remember that, poor Felix," Festus says, shaking his head, "can't believe it's been five years since he passed."

Coriolanus slams his hand on the desk, "THAT'S IT!"

Festus topples out of his chair, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

"Felix Ravenstill was seeing a girl before the accident, remember? And she had just graduated from the Academy, he said she was very pretty but very shy. He also said her dad was as rich as his dad, but that doesn't matter. But right before the accident, he started getting really nervous, remember? He was always on edge, always leaving lectures to go talk to someone on the phone."

Festus groans from his spot on the floor, rubbing his head, "So what? You think he was courting Soarynn and got her pregnant?"

Coriolanus nods, pacing back and forth now that he's putting the pieces back together, "Yes, I remember seeing the Glen at the funeral, but Soarynn wasn't there. I would've remembered seeing her there. Oh it makes perfect sense, he got her pregnant, and before they could do anything about it he cr-"

"He died," Festus says, cutting him off, "leaving her pregnant and alone to raise their baby. At least Ceraphina looks like her mother because Felix wasn't very good-looking if you can remember."

Coriolanus scoffs, barely thinking about Felix any more. He can't believe he put the pieces together. Well, he thinks he put the pieces together, but he's not entirely sure. The Nightingales and the Ravenstills must have agreed to keep it a secret due to how tragic of a loss it already was.

How sad, he can’t imagine being so young and having to raise a child alone. At least she’s rich. And her father seems very supportive, not holding it against her at all.

Festus finally peels himself off the floor, dusting off his pants for good measures, “I say we quit our day jobs and invest in a mystery-solving business,” he proposes, “except we don’t solve any real crimes because people who go poking their noses into things like that always wind up dead. But rich housewife drama? It’s perfect! I can see it now: ‘Creed & Snow Investigations’!”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, “My last name would come first, and we’re not quitting our day jobs.”

He can’t quit for many reasons but the most important reason right now is to learn more about the woman he can't seem to get out of his head. He's just got to play his cards right.

꧁ ꧂

"Have you seen the guest list for the holiday party yet?"

"No, do you have it?"

"Yes! Some of these men aren't even bringing their wives!"

Coriolanus pretends to be very interested in his cup of coffee while eavesdropping on the conversation between two secretaries from two separate floors. If he can sneak a look at the guest list, he can find out if Soarynn is coming to the holiday party.

He just has to get his hands on the list.

Which is why he's planned a distraction. And it should be going off any minute now...

"I'M HURT! OH, I'M HURT! CALL A MEDIC! CALL AN AMBULANCE! OH DON'T TAKE ME YET! I HAVE A WIFE AND CHILD AND GOODNESS KNOWS MY WIFE CAN'T WORK MORE THAN TWO HOURS WITHOUT COMPLAINING ABOUT IT! OH, SOMEONE HELP! SOMEONE LIKE A SECRETARY!"

Coriolanus should've asked someone else to be the distraction.

But both secretaries are running out of the breakroom in seconds to find out who's causing all this racket, and they're going to be pissed when they see that it's Festus.

But Coriolanus doesn't have a moment to waste, he crosses the breakroom in seconds, grabbing the papers that have every guest written down in neat, printed letters. He scans through the papers, his hopes slowly dwindling when he doesn't see Soarynn's name.

He flips to the last page and has to hold in a dramatic gasp. Because there it is.

'Soarynn Nightingale.'

He figured Glen would bring her but one can never be too sure. But now he knows and he's got to show up looking irresistible.

He sets the papers back down where he found them and not a moment too soon because the secretaries are walking back in a second later, grumbling and shaking their heads.

Coriolanus feigns a look of concern, "Is everything alright? Who was injured?"

The secretary who works on his floor, Constance rolls her eyes and grabs the papers, "It was Mr. Creed who was screaming like a small child."

"What happened? Is he alright?"

Constance scoffs and shakes her head, "He had a paper cut. I don't get paid enough to put up with this."

Coriolanus does his best to conceal his smirk, he didn't know what lie Festus would come up with, but a papercut sounds about right. "Oh, I forgot to ask but will you be bringing anyone to the holiday party Mr. Snow?"

Coriolanus shakes his head, acting nonchalant, "Nope. Just me, myself and I."

But he's hoping to change that.

| Part 1. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

{ Part 2. }

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

LET'S GO, WE'RE FINALLY AT MY FAVORITE!!! Not my favorite artwork though, yeesh.

This is Aizawa's fourth major undercover identity, Zukyō. She's more often referred to as Mama-san (a woman in a position of authority, especially one in charge of a geisha house or bar).

She works at Club Symbol, a small club in the red-light district. The place is frequented by villains and people who run in those circles, so Aizawa's job is to pick up on conversations had with the girls. Aizawa was sent there instead of a female Pro Hero because of worries for a woman's safety in such a situation. (Irony ensues, as Aizawa becomes a female pro hero who is a woman. But that's a story for another day.)

This look is achieved via shapewear, a corset, some silicone assistance, a look into drag, and a hint of anime magic. Most people don't notice his more masculine features because of the dark lighting and his undercover makeup, and anyone who notices, as well as the hostesses, think the Mama-san is trans. The hostesses act accordingly and protect her femininity with their lives. The character traits of Zukyō/Mama-san are based on Midnight, strict teachers, a few businesswomen Aizawa has met, and Aizawa himself.

Zukyō's 'quirk' is called Glare. The idea is that any stare from her is intimidating to anyone (perhaps enough to even make their quirk stop working out of fear). It's used as a cover for Erasure, but most often it's just Aizawa's normal scary faces.

And she is. The love of my life. I have drawn her the most, I have written the most ficlets about her, I have thought about her the most. I will be posting the hostesses separately, because this is a ZUKYO POST about ZUKYO goddamnit!

Also she's Hizashi's fake wife, but that's a long story. Everyone say, "Thank you, Nezu!"

[rustycopper4use]

Could I request a Mori x m!reader fic, oneshot

Basically, reader likes to crossdress and acts like a girl and no one at the school(forgot the name of the school the host club is on) and Mori is the only one to know somehow?

Smudged Kisses From An Angel

 A mori x male reader request.

  You were just like another male student in Ouran Academy, you came from money, as the sole heir to japans biggest makeup company.

 The only difference was you like to use your family’s products.   

  Your father could care less about this, his just pleased that you’re promoting his products.

 You liked feminine clothing, dresses, skirts, and heels. You adored makeup of all forms. Something about the form of expression made you feel like yourself. 

 You would even wear this to school, no one said anything really, till one day you figured out why. 

  You overheard a group of boys talking about you! And you figured out everyone thought you were a girl. Of course this didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if people saw you as one or the other. After a few weeks during the new school semester, you were searched out by a flamboyant blonde.

 Apparently you gain some popularity and admirers for your looks. And now you were invited to be the host clubs first official hostess! You didn’t bother to correct the blonde.

  You were referred as the flirtatious type, you’ve never flirted a day in your life, but you were bit of a theatrical person and loved playing roles.

 Since then you’ve been gaining more and more popularity, and love notes.

 You tend to be more closer with Mori, and Haruhi.

 However you and Mori tended to be around each other more often, it got to the point where you two had your own minor fan club, people who adored the silent type with a confident flirt.

 You enjoyed the calm he brought around him, a comfortable silence.

 He would listen to your rants, your endless knowledge of makeup and style theories. He never made you feel like you’re being too much or boring him.

 Everything about him felt easy, nothing was forced. Which led you to fall head over heels. 

 It was like he put a spell on you. Your heart skips a beat seeing him, you felt very aware how hot your face got. And every thought was about him. 

 You were done for.

After many sleepless nights, rewriting the same note only to decide to just do it in person.

 But before you could celebrate, a dreadful realization hits you like a truck.

 He wasn’t aware of that you were a male, sure you could lie about it but in the end you couldn’t do it in good faith.

 You knew he wouldn’t do anything bad if he found out, but still there was a sliver of doubt plaguing your mind.

 And with a heavy heart you would have to tell him.

 You made your way to the Host room, dreaded every step closer, heart beating faster. You would rather crawl home and hide forever right at the moment.

 You open the door with a shaky sigh. You saw the club already with there guests, you walk towards Mori, rehearsing your script in your head.

 “Sorry ladies. Do you mind if I borrow Mori?” You smiled, trying to ignore how nauseous you are.

 A few girls swooned, jumping to less than savoury conclusions.

 “Mori do you mind?” 

 He gets up and follows you. You lead him to an empty room, out of earshot from the rest of the club.

 You took a nervous inhale.

“Uh- sorry for dragging you away from you guests but uh-… I just have something I really needed to say. I really liked you, and have for a while now..” 

 Mori opens his mouth to say something but you stop him.

 “-And before you say anything, I uh- just wanted you to be aware that I’m not really.. um a girl you know? I’m a guy that likes to dress feminine, and act as such. Sorry if it’s weird, or makes You uncomfortable, but uh-“ you nervously play at your manicure nails.

 “-I’m happy the way I am, I just thought you should know. So I’m not disappointing you or something.” Your voice got quieter which each word.

 You looked off to the side, not wanting to see his reaction.

 After what felt like hours of torturing silence, Mori finally spoke.

  “I already knew about that. You have to worry about it.” He calmly spoke.

  “How? No one else knew, not like it was a secret but.” Your heart was pounding in your ears.

 “Because’ I’ve overheard you and Haruhi talk about it.” Mori explained.

  “I- of course it was that simple.” You groaned.

  “And here I was gonna cry and ruin my makeup, over something you already knew about.” 

 “But that still doesn’t answered one question.” You look up at him.

 “Do you actually like me?” You nervously spoke.

 He gave a soft smile before giving a nod.

 “Of course I do.”

Your heart was beating faster than possible. Your face flushed a deeper colour.

  “Uh- can I kiss you then?” You gave a shaky smile.

 He smiled and pulled you in.

He touch left bolts of electric throughout your body, and you pulled back with a smile.

 “That’s a good colour on you.” You teased, noticing the lipstick mark on his lips.

 Before he could questioned you, you pulled him back in. You kissed him back with you more in control now. You kissed all over his face, and a few on his neck and collarbone for good mesure.

 “Now that my heart isn’t about to leap out of my chest, I have to ask, are you few tomorrow?” You grinned.

 You guys left the room half an hour later. You looked amazing, your makeup still in perfect quality.

 However the same can’t be said for Mori. His hair was ruffled, and now he covered in your shade of lipstick. You dropped him off back to his group.

 “Sorry for taking so long.” You cooed at the group. They fangirled out over Mori’s state.

 You left with a grin.

AHHHGG I LOVED THIS REQUEST SO MUCH <333 THank you for this idea!!

[strawberrystepmom]

safety first

pairing: fake osha inspector!jiraiya x restaurant manager f!reader

word count: 2.2k

about: when an inspector unexpectedly comes to your restaurant, you figure out how to get yourself out of trouble.

contents: NSFW - MDNI. reader is referred to with feminine terms and has breasts and a vagina. piv sex, unprotected sex, partially clothed sex, walk in freezer sex, dirty talk, dubcon (just to be safe bc she is fucking him to get out of “trouble” lmao)

notes: this is a repost from my old blog. for my non americans: osha stands for occupational safety and health administration. they come and make sure businesses are meeting safety standards for their employees.

my meager contribution to @bastardblvd's collab. i love this old man and would love for him to stir me up with that hug- *gunshot* okay love you thanks for reading stay sexy!!!!

divider is thanks to @/cafekitsune

“Uh, we have a problem."

You wish the mere sound of that word, problem, didn’t make your skin crawl but between shifts while you prepare for what will almost definitely be a busy Friday night dinner service, it’s the last thing you want to hear. The word is even more unpleasant to hear from your very anxious looking hostess who should be manning her station at the front of your restaurant.

Turning to look at her, you quirk a brow and she visibly shrinks as she approaches you.

“OSHA is here,” she mutters barely louder than a whisper. You blink. Once, twice. Your lips twist into a concerned frown, a crease forming between your brow as you look at her. 

“Excuse me?”

OSHA is here…right now. In your restaurant. Looking for violations of safety rules right before a busy dinner service. Your mind quickly runs through various scenarios that could have prompted the visit - did someone file a complaint? Was there an injury? Panic rises and you instinctively look down at your feet to make sure you wore your non-slip shoes today, a large shadow entering your periphery from behind the young woman standing in front of you.

“Are you the manager of this establishment?” 

The voice of the unfamiliar man booms and you look up, eyes widening as you take him in. He’s big - significantly larger than any man you’ve ever seen and his visage isn’t one you’d usually assign to the inspectors that have come in the past. The sight of him is intimidating enough and then your eye travels to the ID tag clipped on his belt loop, the glint of the plastic protector making you gulp. 

“Yeah, I am,” you nod and swallow again, straightening your posture as you feel him look over you and zero in on your shoes. A breath sticks in your lungs as he flicks his eyes back up toward your face and thrusts his hand in your direction to shake. “Great, my name’s Jiraiya and I’ll be inspecting the premises for any violations today.”

Nervously, your hostess shifts where she stands and you nod your head to give her silent permission to leave. She casts you a glance before scurrying away, leaving you alone with the man in front of you. Thoughts run through your head of how you can best distract him, uncertain of how the condition of your own kitchen stands at this point in time. 

“Can I ask what prompted your visit?” 

Jiraiya looks down at you and you meet his curious glance with a flat stare of your own, mouth in a line. In a futile attempt to seem more intimidating, you fold your arms over your chest and you make a note of the way the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk while he watches you. He hums, folding his arms over his own broad chest.

“Well,” he starts, voice deep and rich. “We don’t have to notify you prior to arriving and here I am.” 

Your mouth rises in a tight smile and you nod once, tipping your head and blinking at him indignantly.

"On what basis are you here?" He shrugs, arms staying in place over his chest. Nothing about this situation seems normal but you suppose it could be his first day on the job or maybe you missed something - this is the start of the busiest time of year and you hardly have time to keep track of the most important things much less minor safety issues.

"I just go where they tell me, ma'am."

Another nod, another curt smile and you unfold your arms and slap your hands against your thighs.

"Well, tell me what you need to see and I'll show you there." Jiraiya turns his back and you roll your eyes, his voice very audible over the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. “To the kitchen then!”

You watch as your staff stiffens at the sight of him, everyone looking down at their shoes in the same fashion you did to ensure OSHA safety standards are being met in the footwear department. His purpose in being here certainly isn’t about shoes, you feel and you follow him silently into the kitchen and back toward the stock room. 

Watching as he inspects every shelf, pulling our cans and searching behind them, you begin to grow impatient. He still hasn’t given you his reason for being here and it feels as if he’s wasting time getting to the point. Just as you decide to speak up, he clears his throat and tips his head in the direction of the freezers. 

“Haveta’ check in there next.”

A defeated sigh escapes you and you unceremoniously fan a hand in the direction of the heavy doors that separate the walk in from the rest of the kitchen. He looks behind him to make sure you’re following and he opens the door with a grin, pretending to shiver. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Tough crowd.” 

His words are aimed at no one in particular but you follow him into the small space and watch as he does the same inspection of each shelf he performed in the store room. The scrape of heavy boxes against metal shelves makes you shiver and he tosses an apologetic frown in your direction. 

“Sorry about all this.” For a moment you soften toward the large man, your eyes dancing across his broad frame. A thought flickers in your mind, the small flame of a potentially bad idea, but you try your luck and walk into the freezer alongside him and shut the door behind you. The proximity forces your shoulder to brush against his bicep and he glances down at you with a knowing smile.

“What can I do to pass this little inspection?”

The words drip from your mouth like sweet honey and Jiraiya smirks, chuckling before wrapping a hand around your hip and pulling you to his side. Heat rushes to your face as you look up at him, standing literal head and shoulders above you, and you feel embarrassed at the way you squirm and press your thighs together.

“We can make all of this go away real quick if you wanna.”

Breathlessly, you let him press the front of you against the cold shelves of the freezer.  The boxes and bags that line the shelves rattle with the force and you moan as he leans against your ass, his bulge resting on your lower back. His breath against the shell of your ear and the heat of your own weeping cunt are the warmest things in the freezer.

Jiraiya cups your clothed breast, big hands palming you hungrily as he rubs his clothed clock against your lower back and moves his hands just enough that he can manipulate your body enough that your back is arched. Sliding one hand from your breast to your chin, he cups it and forces you to look up at him. 

“Smile, sweetheart.” He pants the words through gritted teeth, a soft moan escaping you as you notice the determined look on his eyes. “I’m about to take real good care of you.”

All you can do is nod as you stare up at him, the hand not gripping your face reaching for the waistband of your black slacks and pulling them down in one motion, the fabric bunching halfway down your thighs. Looking down at the curve of your ass pressed against him, he hisses and chuckles lowly. A hand caresses one of your plush cheeks before giving it a little smack, the jiggle making him rub against you once more simply to feel relief. 

“No panties?” He remarks, his large hand sliding across your cheeks again to pull them apart with his thumb and index finger. Whistling lowly, he lets go of your face and you continue looking up at him, entranced by the sight of this older man inspecting your body. “What kind of luck am I having today?”

The hand makes its way between your thighs and you feel his index finger find your slit, the digit running through your soaked and silky folds. This time it’s you pressing against him and spreading your feet just a bit wider to give him more access to you. Never one to miss out on the feel of a sweet leaking cunt beneath his fingers, he swirls the tip around your clit before sliding down further and inserting just the tip inside of you. 

“You like that?” 

You nod, humming affirmatively as he slides his finger through your folds again. Another arrogant smirk crosses his features as he buries his finger to the knuckle without warning you, the slick heat of you sucking him in with little resistance despite how thick his fingers are. He works one finger in and out of you briefly before adding a second, the stretch of two of them so delicious your eyes roll back in your head. 

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and you feel a hand slide toward your lower belly so he can press you against him until there is no space left between your bodies. The deep pants coming from him make you squirm and he moves his hand again with the unspoken expectation that you keep your position exactly as it is. You do and your reward comes in the form of small, dizzying circles being rubbed around your clit with his fingers. 

“Jiraiya…” the high pitched whine leaving your mouth would embarrass you in any other situation but your mind is numb with the cold of the freezer. He continues to rub diligent circles that are driving you crazy and you finally cum with a moan, clenching around his fingers so hard he has to keep them inside of you until you have relaxed enough to let him go. He pulls his fingers from you and places them in front of your face, your tongue darting out of your mouth immediately to suck them clean.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest as you hear the unfastening of a belt from behind you, the jingle of the buckle sending a rush of heat to your still spasming cunt. The cloth covered bulge slowly reveals itself against your back and you gasp feeling the girth. He backs away from you slightly, pushing between your shoulder blades so that you are bent at the waist and you look down to see him tapping the fat head of his very impressively sized cock against your sticky folds.

"Look at you," he coos and you arch your back further. He responds by slipping his head inside of you, a gasp all you can manage as you stretch around just the tip. This man is more than you've ever taken in your life and he can tell by the way your thighs visibly shake. His hands find your hips and anchor you in place as a slow, deep, experimental thrust quickly becomes one deep, hard thrust that makes a clap sound through the entire freezer.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant as you look over his shouder. His long hair flies around his shoulders wildly and his jaw is tense, eyes focused on where your bodies are joined. The sounds coming from your messy pussy are obscene but neither of you seem to mind as his thrusts begin coming harder and harder.

Time is of the essence when you're fucking in a walk in freezer, after all, and he doesn't want to waste any.

If you weren't being so thoroughly fucked, you'd worry they can hear what's happening inside the freezer on the outside. You are simply too engrossed in the way every vein of his cock rubs against your walls to even care. Your jaw slackens as he slaps your ass again and he taunts you from above, on the edge of stuffing you full.

"You fit me so well sweet thing," he grunts, tipping his head back as he holds your hips in place and thrusts shallowly. He brushes against your walls just right and you squeal, head thrown back and face toward the ceiling as you clench and cream around his cock.

Panting, he thrusts one more time and stays nestled deeply inside of you to cum. You didn't ask him not to and you aren't complaining now, struggling to catch your breath in the cold freezer.

Realizing what you've done, you scramble to get away from him with widened eyes, his cum dripping out of you and into the seat of your slacks as you pull them back up over your thighs. He smirks at the sight, your sweet, soft skin marked with a red palm print.

"Are we good?" You ask, still panting and he nods, wrapping his fist around his cock and squeezing it once before wiping his hand on his shirt and pulling his pants back up. Despite the situation, you smile up at him and your gaze is softer than it has been during the entire interaction. He clicks his tongue and situates his belt buckle square above the button of his pants.

"Everything checks out here," his voice booms as you reach for the door to open it, two of your servers standing across from the freezer looking pale and concerned.

"Hi guys, he's just leaving." They nod and one of them reaches out, grabbing your shoulder and leaning toward you.

"Hey, OSHA's here..." they start and you furrow your brow, looking at the man departing through the busy kitchen. "Yeah, he's right there."

You point at Jiraiya and your server shakes their head, passing a paper in your direction listing the complaint of cleaning products being stored incorrectly. Peeking around the server, you gasp at the sight of a man in a safety vest standing at the kitchen door while Jiraiya is nowhere to be found.

"God damn it."

You grab the paper and fight the urge to crumple it in your fist, shaking as you head toward the kitchen door. The man standing at the door eyes you cautiously and you look around his shoulder to see if you can still see the man whose cum is currently dripping out of you.

"Uh, hey. I'm Asuma and I'm here to perform an inspection as a result of a complaint."

You nod, a tight smile on your face as you move out of the way and allow him into the kitchen.