#LOOK AT THAT SUIT THAT HANDKERCHIEF | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ozzgin · 5 months

Note

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

#female reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere fic #yandere lawyer #tw yandere #yandere oc #yandere original character #original work

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charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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shadow4-1 · 13 days

Text

(Based on a true story) I'm just imagining being a military contracted funeral director who's responsible for handling Soap's funeral arrangements.

Apparently, depsite how much John MacTavish loved his family, he listed his Captain as next of kin in his will. You sit in the tiny arrangement conference room in a nice suit, surrounded by three distraught men in bloody tactical gear.

The giant Lieutenant in a skull mask is crying. Not sobbing, but just crying. As he blinks, big wet tears drip down in between the teeth's ridges. Even when he speaks his voice is still the same, even tone.

The one in the blue cap is bouncy and forcibly stoic. His jaw is set so hard you can see his forehead muscles clench. He pretends like you don't exist but you can feel his eyes on you every time you look away.

And the Captain...he's blank faced. He shows no emotion. He absent-mindedly flips through the packets of information in front of him. He asks honest, curious questions about the cremation authorization forms. It's obvious he's buried more than his fair share of people.

"You're not going to cut up his insides, right?" The blue cap asks. He catches you off guard, but also his squad.

"Garrick. Now is not the time." Captain warns.

You butt in, knowing damn well this won't end well without some mild intervention.

"You've selected a direct cremation package for Mr. MacTavish." You nod, gesturing to the papers in front of you. "Mr. MacTavish hasn't been autopsied, so...no. Nothing but cremation will be done to his body."

The blue cap sinks in his chair in relief. The Captain scoffs at him, but based on his and the Lieutenant's reaction, they also relax with that knowledge. You center yourself before forcing eye contact with every man in the room. You manage to get all of their attention.

"I'm here for you guys. If you need anything or have question, please let me know." You nod, smiling softly. "Mr. MacTavish will be well cared for. I promise."

The rest of the conference goes normally. The Captain signs the papers and thanks you for your hard work. You shake their hands and show them to the door. You offer the Lieutenant your suit's handkerchief on the way out. You expect him to give it back but he just takes it.

Little do you know, that night he can't stop himself from crying into it. Your little bit of genuine sweetness makes him want to keep living despite the fact the loss of Johnny makes him want to die.

#call of duty #cod imagines #mw2 #mw2 headcanons #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain price #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick

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blackopals-world · 18 days

Text

Chef!Yuu gets abducted by RSA students

Yuu goes to a club exhibition at RSA with the boys. The RSA students immediately believe Yuu is a captive princess.

"It's a big day boys and it's going to be warm today. Make sure to drink up and eat the snack bags I gave you." Yuu said putting down the last of their cooking tools.

Yuu didn't have a club to participate in at the club meet but after the boys said they wouldn't go to the event with them Crowley relented.

Instead, Yuu would set up a small food stall to show off NRC's food. Yuu had made sure to pack lots of personal meals for those participating in the event so they wouldn't go hungry. Yuu had no idea what the quality of the food was here and if they knew the dietary limits of their students so it was better not to risk letting the boys get sick.

"Yeah, okay. I need to get going. The basketball teams are having a short game now." Ace said eager to start showing off.

"Okay, let me just grab your lunches. Curry, hummus, and veggies for Jamil. Fried catfish, seaweed salad, and fried potatoes for Floyd. And a BLT, steak fries and one of my special cherry jubilee tarts." Yuu handed of the wrapped boxes to each of them before they left.

"Thank you again Yuu." Jamil said remembering to thank them.

"Now it's the track team. Jack has a steak sandwich, deer jerky, and pear pudding. Deuce had omelet rice, pigs in a blanket, and my blue razzberry tarts." Yuu said watching Deuce immediately scoop up his box and sprint off while waving with a big smile.

"Well bring back a trophy," Jack said sternly, his tail wagging.

Yuu continued to hand out food and snacks until everyone was gone. They eventually noticed that Malleus's box was still there with no sign of Malleus. Did everyone forget to bring him again?! Oh no...Yuu would make sure to apologize with banquet. He might be in a more forgiving mood after.

Yuu didn't want it to go to waste, especially with Grim going to watch the sports clubs.

Yuu didn't want to not watch everyone show off. The problem was that Yuu wasn't supposed to leave the stall. This wasn't fair at all. Yuu didn't like being all alone.

Unknown to Yuu the decadent smell of their food was spreading around campus. From a few of their friends opening their lunch early like Ace grabbing his tart, Ruggie eating his chicken, and Cater taking pictures of his kimchi-jjiga. Then there were those who were showing off their meals like Vil with his tuna tartar, Rook with his venison, and even Sebek of all people with his smoked salmon. It managed to get the attention of many RSA students who began asking them where they got their food. All of the boxes were wrapped in the same patterned handkerchiefs with a cat head with a knife and fork.

As fate would have it Neige LeBlanche stumbled upon a pouting Yuu sitting next to a small stall with a box in their lap.

"Are you okay?" He asked watching the lil'chef poke out their bottom lip cutely.

"Mmn, yeah. I just made too much food again." Yuu said not looking up.

"You have extra then. I don't mind taking it off your hands. I accidentally forgot my lunch again." Neige had not forgotten his lunch. He had fed it to his animal friends again.

"Really?" Yuu looked up hopefully, glad it wouldn't go to waste but- "Are you sure? It's probably not suited to your taste. I usually make these to the taste of each person."

"Of course, I'm not picky. I'm sure it's delicious." He said smiling taking the box from Yuu and sitting down to unwrap it.

The box was filled with a collection of different foods to sample. Malleus enjoys trying as many foods as possible so his boxes are made so that he can learn every food he likes and dislikes. Malleus wasn't picky either since he loved every food Yuu made.

"Oh my, there is so much to try." Neige took a moment to take a picture of the food. "Why don't you eat with me?"

"Huh?" Yuu said doe eyed and confused.

Cater skilled through recent posts on magicam when a new post from Neige crossed his view.

"OMG!!" He yelled standing up.

Lilia and Kalim jumped before looking over his shoulder.

Plain as day was a collection a photos of Neige and Yuu where their. Not just any photos, cutesy ones with hearts and birds.

One with Yuu and Neige sitting so close together they were thigh to thigh with a lunch box perched on their laps. One with Neige feeding Yuu a fork full of cake. Yuu looked so cute too. Then Yuu was doing the same and they looked so nervous and shy. This can't be happening.

Carted groaned in defeat at the amount of perfect couple shots was infuriating.

".....this has to be-" Cater broke out in a cold sweat. "A new relationship announcement."

Kalim and Lilia were stunned into silence.

Vil was getting impatient. Neige was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago. They were supposed to do a photoshoot for the event.

Rook sent him a message with a link. The moment he saw Neige with Yuu he almost crushed his phone.

"That bastard." Vil was dumb. He had been blocking Neige and Yuu from meeting since the beginning. Neige was too curious about where Vil's food came from whenever they worked together. After all Vil never ate on set and hated the catering so his sudden shift to eating food prepared by who he called "his chef" was always going to get Neige's attention.

Ruggie was growling up a storm as he waited for the next round to start. He had grabbed Leona's phone as messages popped up. When he saw some random RSA student with HIS Yuu. Like hell was he going watch some pretty boy steal his meal ticket.

No one takes advantage of Yuu's gullible nature but him.

"Hey, shortstack give him some distance this round," Leona warned Epel. He knew that Ruggie could get vicious on the field when he was in a bad mood.

Epel took a few steps away from Ruggie. He had never actually seen the hyena growl let alone sneer like that.

"I should probably get back to the stall. The others will get upset if I wander off." Yuu said half-heartedly. They was mostly referring to Grim, Ace, and Deuce. They tended to panic if they can't find Yuu.

"Why?" Neige asked his head tilted to the side like a puppy.

"They just worry I'll run off." Yuu said.

Neige could put two and two together. Vil was protective of his chef and from the comments under his post sounded like they didn't want him near Yuu.

Perhaps they were keeping Yuu with them against their will. Maybe Vil didn't know but the other NRC students wouldn't let them go. Vil was probably trying to protect Yuu by making them his chef.

"You poor thing. Don't worry! I'll save you!" Neige said grabbing Yuu's hand and taking them away.

"Huh?"

Yuu was very sweet but awareness wasn't their strong suit. They assumed that this was some sort of act. Yuu did hear that RSA students pretended to be perfect princes, that's what the others said. Yuu wanted to play along, after all they would never get another chance to pretend to be a princess again.

"Oh, are you going to take me away?" Yuu humored him as they giggled.

Neige looked at Yuu like they had hung the moon, a gentle princess who wanted to be saved by HIM.

Immediately he rallied as many other students as he could to bring Yuu into the school. RSA would have their very own princess who cared for others so much and made delicious food for even those that kidnapped them.

Due to the ruckus that was being raised the club events were canceled.

Each group ran to the now empty stall where Grim was crying into an apron that Yuu left behind.

"What happened?" Trey asked searching for Yuu.

"They have been taken captive by Neige and his friends," Grim yelled.

With that the group went up against a gauntlet of students traveling up the headmaster's tower before they successfully enrolled Yuu into the Royale Sword Academy.

Of for the moment they got to the top.

"It's dinner time. I'm glad you made it in time. You must have had alot of fun today." Yuu said cheerfully.

Yuu had commandeered the headmaster's kitchen and as always was sticking to their cooking schedule.

Everyone ended up having to settle down and enjoy a meal. Although there was still plenty of bickering and attempts to keep the fawning RSA students away from their princess.

Even after everyone returned to NRC Yuu would receive visits from dashing young princes wanting to take them away. This has resulted in traps laid across Ramshackle to keep them out. Not to mention a particularly miffed dragon that had his meal stolen.

#chef!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yuuniverse #neige leblanche #twst neige #twst rsa #royal sword academy

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jobean12-blog · 8 months

Text

His to Keep

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 3,626

Summary: You've been working for Bucky for almost a year and although you know there's so much more to him than just owning the club, you can't help but be drawn to him as he's drawn to you.

Author's Note: Just more mob!Bucky because I love him so! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: light mentions of v-i-olen-c-e and angst, but mostly sweetness and softness, tension and flirting, and d-o-m and obse-ssi-ve Bucky.

The piercing shot rings out, and before the echoing sound even dies, Bucky’s running. Your high-pitched scream pierces the air and he silently prays for your safety, his long legs moving so fast time seems suspended.

When he reaches the hallway, there’s a small group of employees gathered by the doorway, their expression filled with shock and horror.

They part without question as he approaches, rushing into the room and ignoring the violence that so blatantly fills it. His blue eyes search for you and finally his heart starts beating again when he sees you unharmed.

You’re crouched in the corner, eyes wide with terror as you take in the slumped over man in the chair, his tailored and expensive suit now stained red.

Bucky’s men immediately follow his orders to handle the situation but his attention never leaves you.

With slow steps he approaches you, holding his hands out and speaking your name softly. When your eyes lock with his the first tear slides down your cheek and he nearly crumbles to his knees, his heart shattering.

He gathers you into his arms with such a gentle grace, as if you’ll break and ushers you toward his office. With a nudge of his toe he opens the door and sets you down in his large leather chair. Carefully he takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over you, tucking it above your shoulders.

His eyes are laser focused on you as he fills a crystal glass with whiskey and forces it into your shaky hand.

“Drink this.”

You glance at it unseeingly, lost in your head, replaying what you just witnessed over and over.

He lifts the glass with a gentle touch and when it reaches your lips you drink reflexively. He waits until you finish all of it.

Taking a silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket, he kneels down in front of you, his hands moving with slow trepidation, but still you try to intercept it.

“Let me,” he orders. “Please doll.”

The second set of words come out softer and your hands fall to your lap.

He cleans your face of tears, his touch delicate and reverent and you can feel his warm breath fan your cheek as his thumb chases a stray tear that slips toward your mouth.

“Doll,” he whispers roughly, emotion clogging his voice.

Your wet lashes lift and you meet his eyes, your breath catching at what you see. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. His usual façade of unrivaled power and unrelenting dominance gone, replaced by a haunting look of dread.

“James?”

At the sound of his name on your lips his jaw clenches, his controlled restraint slowly slipping away with his mask and every moment he spends so close to you. He needs you to feel you. Your warm and soft skin, your pulsing heartbeat, your lips, every curve…

But he would never take advantage of you, especially after what just happened.

“Let me take you home.”

You nod and easily fall into his embrace, resting your head against his chest as he escorts you toward the exit.

When your soft sheet hits your shoulder you sigh, snuggling closer to your pillow as Bucky tucks you in. You had argued lightly when he told you to shower but now that you’re warm and clean you feel marginally better.

He pauses at the door as you fall asleep, knowing he can’t leave you here alone, instead sinking into your make up chair in the corner of the room, watching vigilantly as you succumb to slumber.

A week later you’re determined to leave your house, wanting to get back to work, even if it means facing the demons of that night. And you want to see him again. You’ve missed him, even though you know he’s never very far away.

He watches from his hidden vantage point as you close your car door and start the engine. He doesn’t need the GPS tracker he had installed on your car to tell him where you’re headed, but he turns it on anyway.

His own car starts, black and sleek in a nondescript way. He easily catches up to you, maintaining a safe distance behind you so you don’t notice him.

He phones Steve who’s working the back door of the club. “She’ll be arriving soon. Escort her in.”

Steve makes a small sound of acknowledgement and hangs up, promptly moving outside to wait for you.

Once Bucky is satisfied Steve has you covered he makes a sharp turn off the main road and takes the back streets toward his club. He needs to be there before you. Ready and waiting.

Before you even turn your car off, Steve is at the door, opening it and guarding you with his body.

In his office, Bucky waits, checking the crowd through the one-way glass that overlooks the floor. Security has been upgraded, covering every inch of his club to ensure nothing like what happened last week ever happens again.

Everything in the club looks to be running smoothly…not that he would have it any other way. All his endeavors are done with the utmost care and cunning precision. He wouldn’t be able to run this club any other way let alone the whole damn city.

He scans the floor until his eyes land on you and as if you can feel his gaze, your eyes glance up to the window where you know he’s standing.

The connection that’s been growing between you two for the past year has only been solidified since the unfortunate event that took place last week. He knew in that moment that he would do anything for you. Die to protect you.

Since the instant you walked into his club to apply for the job as manager he knew you were special. And having you work for him has been the sweetest torture. Day after day he watches you excel at your job, handle everything thrown your way with ease and professionalism, even the scummy clientele that try to lay hands on you.

No one touches what belongs to him and only the ones that don’t know who he is try. But they soon find out how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Steve alerts Bucky that you’re on your way up to his office.

The knock on his office door makes his heart skip a beat and even though he’s dressed impeccably he smooths his hand down his chest, adjusting his tie in the process.

“Come in.”

You crack the door open and peek in.

“Hi James. Steve said I could come up?”

At your questioning tone, Bucky smiles.

“You never have to ask to see me doll. You’re welcome to anytime.”

You smile softly and walk in, shutting the door behind you. With a slow saunter you move toward his desk and perch yourself on the edge near his chair.

He finds it hard to concentrate the moment you’re close. Even though you try to keep a cool demeanor, your body is inviting in its posture and your eyes devour every inch of him.

“Thank you for seeing me James,” you start. “I wanted to…”

Before you can finish he leans closer, a gentle interruption with his consuming presence. “First of all, call me Bucky. I’m only James to everyone else. And as I said before, I would love to see you anytime you want doll.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning toward him as if you’re pulled by some invisible string. “That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to thank you.”

“For?” he asks, his eyebrows raised as a small smile pulls at his lips.

Your eyes drop to his mouth before your lips part to speak again.

“Taking such good care of me last week and rescuing me.”

“I hardly rescued you doll. I’ll never forgive myself for putting you in that situation and the fact that I wasn’t there to protect you will haunt me forever. I never wanted you to see this side of my…business.”

You pull your gaze away from his mouth and study his face. He’s beautiful. His large blue eyes framed by dark and long lashes and his perfectly shaped jaw surrounding a mouth with lips you dream about tasting.

“It’s ok…”

“No.” he says, his tone harsh.

His face crumples when he sees your eyes widen at his gruffness.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly recovers. “That’s not meant to be toward you…if anything had happened to you…”

You tentatively reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb softly brushing over the dark stubble that lines it.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know you would never hurt me.”

His eyes are locked on yours, the tension between you palpable. You unconsciously trace your lips with your tongue, drawing his attention. He moves closer, closing the distance and resting his elbows on his spread thighs.

“Anything you want from me. Anything at all. You need but to ask and it’s yours.”

“Jame…Bucky, thank you.”

He visibly preens when you say ‘Bucky,’ and it makes you smile, triumph alight in your eyes.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do…?” you ask, looking at him from under your lashes.

“Nothing. You’re perfect. However, I’d like to ask you something.”

His words peek your interest and you inch closer, knowing after today there’s no turning back from this. From him.

“Dinner. I want you to have dinner with me doll.”

“That wasn’t a question,” you say teasingly, even as you drag your teeth over your bottom lip. “More of an order.”

“Mm, you’re right,” he winks. “Either way, I think your answer is going to be yes.”

“Like a date?” you question, your grin widening.

“Yes. A date.”

“What will everyone else say when they find out you’re dating your employee?”

Your question has his features hardening ever so slightly, but not at you.

“No one will say a word about it. I can assure you of that.”

You audibly swallow as you take him in, focusing on the way you feel about him, not what he’s capable of.

“I’d love to have dinner with you Bucky.”

He visibly relaxes and a genuine smile graces his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes in such an endearing way you nearly swoon off the desk.

“Good. Then let’s eat.”

You giggle. “Now? I thought you meant you were going to pick me up, you know, I’d get all dressed and then you take me out.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give you time to reconsider.”

Reluctantly, but with a smirk, he pushes on his heels and rolls his chair away from you, grabbing his cell. He orders a spread of food from one of his restaurants, then sits back down.

“Sit,” he says, motioning to the chair across from him.

When you do he slides closer, framing you with his spread legs and caging you in with his thighs.

“So now that this is dinner, tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”

“Hmm,” you muse, tapping your chin.

You fall into easy and comfortable conversation, sharing more about your past. Bucky listens intently, hanging on to every word and prodding gently with well thought out questions.

A knock at the door surprises you both and you can see Bucky’s body tense. He was so immersed in you he lost sight of any possible dangers, forgetting his surroundings. He mentally berates himself, tucking that away and vowing to be more mindful, if only to keep you safe.

Thankfully, it’s only the dinner delivery.

He takes the food and moves to the casual seating area of his office, placing the food down on the coffee table. You follow him and sit on the floor.

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes wandering over your form before he follows suit with a light shrug.

“Have you ever sat on the floor to eat dinner?” you ask playfully.

“Not that I recall,” he answers, serving you food.

You both laugh and dig into the delicious dinner.

After your impromptu dinner date you and Bucky continue to dance around each other at work. The connection is strong, the pull between you taut with intense heat and longing. You can always feel his presence, his eyes on you, but it’s not uncomfortable at all, in fact, it makes you feel safe.

Later that week as you’re leaving your yoga class you feel someone following you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end but when you hear the instructor’s familiar voice you relax slightly and turn to say hello.

“Hi Matt.”

He greets you warmly and falls into step next to you as you walk toward your cars. The conversation is light at first but then he starts to complain about his girlfriend and how their relationship is failing. You begin to feel uncomfortable and as if sensing it, Matt drops his head.

“I’m sorry. Enough of my drama. I just need to move on I think.”

You take that as your cue to leave and start to say your goodbye but he keeps talking, chasing after you as you move toward your car.

“Hey, how is work going?”

“Uh..good, really good, thanks.”

Matt continues firing questions at you and your eyes dart around the darkened parking lot, quietly searching for Steve or one of Bucky’s other men.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Matt says, the words pulling your from your spiraling thoughts.

You step back to gain space and before you can answer, there’s a loud clanging noise as the door of the gym next door slams shut.

A big and broad silhouette comes into view and both you and Matt automatically look over.

Steve’s large frame moves closer and you sigh in relief.

“Hey Steve,” you chime, taking a step toward him.

Steve respectfully keeps his distance while also always keeping you protected.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks as he glares at Matt.

“Yes,” you answer, waving at Matt.

Matt blinks several times, clearly confused at Steve’s arrival but grudgingly says his goodbye and shuffles off to his car.

“I was looking for you Steve,” you say once Matt is out of ear shot.

“I’m sorry it took me longer than usual. I was on a call,” he apologies.

“It’s ok,” you say with a soft pat to his shoulder. “Just glad you’re here.”

“I always am.”

When you look at him with curious eyes his own go wide. “Well…not always of course. Bucky would have my head, but I just meant…”

You throw your head back with laughter. “I know Steve. The first few months I thought I was just crazy but when I realized it was just you trailing me and keeping me safe I felt better.”

Steve gives you a more relaxed smile and opens your car door.

“Um Steve,” you say softly as you sit. “Do you think maybe…we could keep this just between us? Matt’s not really a bad guy. I think he’s just having a rough time. I’m sure everything would have been just fine.”

Steve’s mouth turns down in a frown. “You know I can’t do that.”

With a sigh you reply, “I knew you were going to say that.”

Steve’s lips lift into a wry smile. “When it comes to his girl he wants to know everything.”

“Is that so?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. “Should I start keeping a diary so I can report in every second of every day.”

“Well, you probably don’t need to go that far, but…”

Your lips purse but when you see his expression morph into one of sheepishness for the second time that night you decide to let it go and take it up with Bucky himself.

Back home, Steve walks you to your door.

“Do you want to come in? Need a snack or drink?” you ask.

He doesn’t take a single step closer and shakes his head once.

“He’s on his way now.”

“Bucky’s on his way?” you squeak. “Shit. I need to change and tidy up!”

At your use of ‘Bucky’ Steve genuinely grins. The action catches you off guard but you realize that Bucky wasn’t lying when he said no one calls him that but you. With another flurry of thanks and goodnights you bid farewell to Steve, even though you know he’ll just be sitting outside in his SUV until Bucky arrives.

You prepare for your shower, determined to keep your head once he gets there and get some definitive answers from him.

At his knock, you open the door with a tentative smile.

“Doll face,” he greets, his voice deep and intense.

“Bucky,” you echo. “Would you like to come in.”

“Please,” he answers and brushes past you.

Just the delicate touch of his hand as he walks by sends goosebumps skittering across your skin.

“I’m sure you already know about what Steve did tonight,” you say as you walk into your living room.

“Of course,” he answers.

You look over your shoulder and narrow your eyes.

“Want something to drink?”

“Do you have whiskey?” he asks.

“No whiskey, just red or white wine and water. Take it or leave it.”

At your sassy tone his eyebrows raise every so slightly.

“Water is fine, thank you. And want to tell me what that sassiness is about.”

After you get two glasses of water you sit on the couch across from him, leveling him with your best glare.

“How long have you had Steve following me?” you ask him.

“You’re very observant,” he states.

“That’s not an answer,” you continue with sass. “And I’ve been paying attention. You know I have. But mostly to you.”

Your confession satisfies him. You can see it in the way he lifts his chin and his eyes glitter.

“I want you to fill me in Bucky.”

“On?” he asks as his arm falls over the back of the couch and his fingers ghost over your shoulder, mostly bare in your thin tank top.

“Bucky.”

You mean it to come out more demanding, but it’s breathy and your body shivers at his touch.

“Are you sure? You were pretty freaked out by what you learned last time you got a glimpse behind my curtain. And rightfully so.”

“Tell me. I trust you and I want to give us a chance.”

He takes a deep breath and shares as much as he can without putting you in any more danger.

“Why do all of this though? Do you have men following everyone that works for you? Why did Steve call me your girl?”

“Two of these questions have the same answer. From the moment I saw you I wanted you to be mine and after the incident earlier this month and I almost lost you, it became an overwhelming feeling.”

His fingers press into your skin as he glides them down your arm.

“And no. I don’t have men on anyone else that works for me. I keep them safe of course. But just you. Always you.”

His hand leaves your arm and he strokes his thumb along your jaw. You lean into his touch and sigh out his name.

“I’ve been patient,” he murmurs. “Fuck doll, I’ve been so patient.”

He presses the pad of his finger to your lips, tracing their softness.

“But with every breath I take, I think of you. Every beat of my heart, I want you.”

The moment stretches in sweet torture before you place a hand on his cheek.

“I want you t…”

Before the words are fully out of your mouth he’s on you, dragging you into his lap and grinding his hips up as he grabs the back of your neck and steals your breath.

You press closer, needing to feel every inch of him. Your arms wrap around his neck and you lightly scratch your nails over his scalp before your hands fall to his chest and you start to tug at his tie.

Your lips leave his and you trail kisses along his jaw, stopping just below his ear before tracing the muscular column of his neck.

He hisses out a curse and tightens his grip. You smile into his skin and loosen his tie. You’ve barely gotten it undone when his large hand lands on your ass cheek. The sting makes you moan and rock your hips but in a flash your eyes are on his, your chin caught between his thumb and forefinger.

You take in his appearance as he stares at you. His usually pristine shirt now wrinkled, the buttons at the top hanging open and his loose tie dangling messily. His normally untouched hair is tousled, wild from your fingers and his control is clearly wavering with every heaving breath he takes.

You don’t waste another second and this time you kiss him, pressing your softness against every hard plane of his body, maximizing every bit of contact as you try to pin him to the back of the couch. You nibble into his bottom lip and then swallow the sound of his satisfied growl.

“Doll,” he starts, and you hear the questioning tone of his voice.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Fill me and make me yours.”

For a split second you see surprise flash across his features but he instantly recovers with a smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for his, how many times I’ve dreamed of you saying those words to me,” he murmurs, his body rigid with his restraint. “And remember, you asked for this. I’m going to give you everything.”

His words are a dark promise, one you hold onto with every fiber of your being.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #mob!Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #mob au #mafia au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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fanfic-wonderland · 5 months

Text

Not Just Friends {Coriolanus Snow}

Synopsis: After your breakup with Felix Ravinstill, you go to Coriolanus Snow for help and comfort. When you ask him to go to the Winter's Ball with you so you can make your ex-boyfriend jealous, he's hesitant. He has his reasons...

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Read part two here.

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When you arrive at the Snow residence one chilly afternoon, bawling your eyes out, nearly everyone is immediately worried. Coryo’s grandmother does not stick around for long to listen to your problems, claiming that she’s tired and will lie in bed for a while. However, Coryo, who looks the most concerned, guides you to their dining table, sitting beside you while Tigris heads directly to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea. “What happened?” He asks immediately.

You try to quiet down your sobs, taking a few deep breaths before answering him. “You were right. Felix is a no-good jerk. I should’ve listened to you.”

Coryo’s eyes darken at the mention of Felix’s name. He’s never been fond of him, much less when you started dating him a few months ago. You thought that he was just playing the role of the overprotective best friend when you first told him that you and Felix started seeing each other, and that he was being ridiculous when he had said that Felix was “the worst option for a boyfriend”. If only you had listened to him back then, you wouldn’t be crying over a broken heart right now. “What did he do?” Coryo asks in a low dangerous tone.

“He—” You shake your head as more tears fall down your cheeks. Coryo takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and grabs your chin softly, wiping them away. “I found him making out with Arachne in one of the classrooms.”

Coryo stops his movements, a hard look on his face. You try not to lose it again after the words leave your mouth but the image is freshly imprinted in your mind. The way his hands were all over her, while she grabbed at his hair… and how their mouths devoured each other…

You snap out of your thoughts when Coryo suddenly stands up and begins heading to the door. “Where are you going?” you ask frantically, following him.

“I’m going to kill him,” He answers but does not stop walking. “And her. I’ll kill them both.”

“No, Coryo, wait!” You grab him by the arm and pull him back. He finally turns back to you; his eyes are practically flames at this point. “They’re not worth it. Just… stay here with me, please,” You practically beg him. You feel your voice on the verge of breaking, again. “Please. I need you here with me.”

Coryo’s expression softens at your words and your glossy eyes make him silently give in. His arms wrap protectively around your figure and your cheek is pressed against his chest. You cry some more while he holds you, and it makes you feel a tad bit better.

A few moments later, the three of you are back at the table while you’re sipping from the tea that Tigris had brewed for you. The crying has finally stopped; the tea and the company were a big comfort. “I do want to ask you a favor that doesn't require killing anyone,” I direct my words to Coryo, who is already looking at me.

“Anything,” he says.

You sigh. “I want you to come with me to the Winter’s Ball.”

Coryo groans. “Anything but that,”

“Oh, please, Coryo,” You plead, clasping your hands together. “Both of them will be there and I just know that they'll be fuming if they see us together. Felix always hated the idea of us together and I just want him to see that I—”

“(Y/N), I already told you that I'm not going—”

“I know what you said,” you cut him off. Coryo typically does not mind going to social gatherings but the Winter’s Ball is different. He’s not fond of attending a dance filled with students who love to flaunt their wealth through over-the-top gowns and suits he cannot afford. At least not for now. “But if you could just do this one thing for me I will be forever grateful. I'll even pay for your suit, I have no problem doing—”

“Don’t,” He warns you. “Do not try to bribe me with that.”

You lower your head when you realize that you've made him angry. “Sorry.”

Silence follows and it feels like it goes on for too long. “Coryo,” Tigris chimes in. “Maybe it could be a good thing that you go with (Y/N). Aside from helping her out, it could also be a nice way to get your mind off things. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately.”

He narrows his eyes at her but before he can say something else, you beat him to it. “No, It��s okay. It was a dumb and petty idea anyway. Maybe I should just endure it as it is,” I stand up. “I should get going now. Thanks for the tea, and for listening. I'll see you guys later.”

Tigris walks you to the door while Coryo stays seated, keeping his eyes away from you. Moments later, Tigris comes back with a frown on her face. “Would it be so bad for you to go to the Ball?” She asks him softly.

Coryo closes his eyes and sighs. “You know how I feel about these things, Tigris.”

“I know. But you'd be helping (Y/N) out,” She points out. “Coryo, she's your best friend. How many times has she helped you without asking for anything in return?”

Countless times. And Coryo is sure that you'll keep helping him for as long as you can. It's only one of the many things he loves about you. “Tigris, you don't understand,” Coryo takes a moment before he confesses. “It’s not just about the Winter’s Ball. The mere thought of helping (Y/N) to make that good-for-nothing Felix Ravinstill jealous is…”

Tigris observes her cousin, the pained look on his face as he talks about you and your ex-boyfriend, and her eyes widen in realization. “Oh,” Coryo looks down at his hands, unable to say much. He’s already said enough. “Were you planning on telling her?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not worth it. She clearly doesn’t feel the same way.”

She places her hand on top of his. “I know it looks that way now, but there’s no telling what she truly feels unless you talk to her. You guys have known each other for so long that there may be something unspoken on her part, as well.”

Coryo doesn’t know what to say to that but the thought of you reciprocating his feelings stirs something inside him. He shouldn’t give in to them —he needs all his focus shifted to his studies to stay top of his class— but Tigris’ words make him reconsider his priorities, whether that’s a good thing or not.

***

You regret coming to the Winter’s Ball by yourself.

Everyone you see in the room is either coupled up or chatting away with other people. The people from the Academy who you once considered your ‘friends’ have taken Felix’s side after you guys broke up— all except one, but he's not here, so you're left sitting at an empty table on your own.

You've spotted Felix and Arachne a few times already, dancing together, and you try to distract yourself with a plate of food and a few drinks, but It's hard to look away when he's kissing her as if you aren't there. As if you guys hadn't dated at all.

You really shouldn't have come.

The plate is not even halfway empty but you've already lost your appetite. Your head is spinning and your chest feels heavy; the best thing you can do is leave. No one will notice anyway.

So you quickly stand up from your seat but when you turn to leave you almost run into someone had you not realized sooner. “Sorry,” you say before looking up at their face. You nearly stumble backward when you take in those familiar blue eyes. “Coryo! You’re here.”

“Where you just leaving?” Coryo asks.

You shrug. “I didn’t feel like being here by myself.”

“Well, you’re not anymore,” He offers you his hand. There’s a hint of a smile as he says, “Would you like to dance?”

You’re speechless for a moment, not truly believing that Coriolanus Snow, one of the most persistent people you’ve ever met, is attending the Winter’s Ball with you. You almost pinch yourself to make sure that you’re not dreaming. The only thing you can do is nod and place your hand in his, and then he guides you to where everyone else is already dancing. People begin to turn their heads in your direction; some smile (at Coryo), some glare (at you), and some whisper to the person next to them, but you find that you don’t care.

That is until you reach the center of the dancefloor and catch Felix and Arachne watching the both of you closely. His blazing stare almost succeeds in making you crumble, but you're brought back to reality when you feel Coryo’s thumb softly grazing the back of your hand. “Don’t pay attention to them,” He says close to your ear. You notice that he's smirking proudly at them and maybe that's the reason why Felix looks like he wants to kill someone. He's always had this crazy idea that you and Coryo were going behind his back, so this must feel like a slap in the face to him. You try to brush those thoughts aside and focus on the feeling of Coryo’s hand holding yours, how it makes you feel so warm inside.

The both of you turn to each other. You wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you close by the waist. Your bodies begin to sway to the music naturally; it feels like you guys aren’t just pretending. The other students certainly seem to believe so, seeing how, unlike when you first arrived, everyone’s attention is fully on both of you. After a few moments of dancing, you start to forget where you are, and it feels like It’s just you and him in the room. He makes you feel that way effortlessly just by the way he’s looking at you, and only you. It’s like nothing else matters to him in this one moment.

You only break eye contact with him when you’re suddenly spun around by someone behind you. “I knew it,” Felix spits his words out like they're venomous. “How convenient that right after we break up you’re here with none other than the guy you’ve always denied being involved with.”

You fold your arms across your chest, scowling up at him. At that moment, you beat yourself up for crying over a guy like him. “I've always been truthful. I never went behind your back. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for you.”

“You act like you're so innocent, right?” Felix scoffs. “You always said nothing was going on between you and Snow but here you are throwing yourself at him in front of everyone.”

Your blood begins to boil. Before you can say anything else, Coryo steps in front of you. “Watch your mouth, Ravinstill,” He warns. “I’d think carefully about what to say if I were you.”

Felix laughs dryly. “This doesn't concern you, Snow.”

“It does because she's with me tonight and I won't tolerate you addressing her like that.”

Coryo steps closer to Felix, practically hovering above him. Although Felix is slightly shorter, he doesn't seem the least bit intimidated. “Right. Figured you would play hero and jump right into defending your little whore from—”

Coryo’s fist meets Felix’s face before he can finish talking, sending him straight to the ground. Everyone who is watching the scene gasps in horror. Once he recovers, Felix manages to connect a punch to Coryo’s jaw, but it will take more than that to take him down. Coryo’s much stronger than him— and much angrier.

You call out Coryo’s name in panic, trying to get him to stop, but he keeps grabbing at Felix and punching him numerous times until his knuckles are stained with Felix’s blood. You begin to think that he might kill him. “Coryo, stop!” You cry out again, trying to hold him back by the arm.

He finally listens but his attention is still on Felix, who is lying on the floor and whose face is more than messed up now. A few students try to help him out and you take that opportunity to drag Coryo outside.

You figure he needs some fresh air. You know you certainly do. So both of you walk around the Academy grounds for a bit, arms linked with each other and neither of you saying anything until you find a bench right across from the fountain and you sit down. By the time you do, Coryo has calmed down a bit, although he still looks shaken up. You notice the bruise starting to form across his jaw, and you have a sudden urge to run your fingers through it, to do everything you can to make it go away.

Coryo catches you looking. “It doesn't hurt much,” He reassures you. “You probably hit harder than him.”

You chuckle, too exhausted to pretend to be offended. “Are you alright, though?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“I think so,” You nod, fiddling with your fingers.

You break away from his gaze but you can still feel him staring. “Hey,” he places a hand on your cheek to get you to look back at him. “Nothing that he said is true, and I hope you know that.”

A fluttering feeling forms in your stomach. His eyes have always been your weakness.

“I know that, It’s just…” You shake your head. “I feel like all of this is my fault. I shouldn't have asked you to come with me, because clearly, it was a horrible plan. And now I probably fucked things up for you— your reputation might be deeply affected now that you beat up the president’s son.”

Coryo doesn't say anything. His lips remain a thin line on his gorgeous face. “I should really start listening to you from now on, huh?” You try to joke.

You guess it works as Coryo smiles faintly. “I think that's the best idea you’ve had so far,” he agrees. “But I could care less about my image right now. He deserved that—no, worse. No one talks about you like that and gets away with it. Not if I can help it.”

His words make your insides jump. You try to control it because since when does Coryo have such an effect on you? Your relationship has always been nothing but platonic. “The thought of you hurting over a guy like him pains me so much because he doesn't deserve you. Fuck, even I don't deserve you, but I would never, ever do something to hurt you like that,” You swear he’s leaning his face closer to yours. “You're the most important thing to me, (Y/N). You’re so precious and I don’t think you see just how much. But I do. I’ve always seen it.”

You gape at him. “Coryo…”

You were not expecting him to say something like that. Coriolanus Snow has always been far from the romantic type. Charming, absolutely, but you have never heard him express any desire to be romantically involved with someone, let alone yourself. You don’t know how to answer to him. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” He tells you. “I just needed you to know how much you truly mean to me.”

And then he stands up and walks away, leaving you cold, confused, and alone with your thoughts.

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brain-rot-central · 5 months

Text

The Cellar

A/N: I feel like I hit my quota in the smut mines, for this weekend. I left this open so I could eventually make a part two, if it so suits me, heh.

Words: 3.1k CW: 18+, dry humping, Virgin!Tav, masturbation, fingering, dubcon (?? not really sure but I'm gonna put it), sexual themes, pining, Astarion being a little shit Pairing: Astarion x Female!Tav (the reader is Tav) Summary: You and Astarion were looting a particular cellar within the Blighted Village when you happened to brush hands. As brief as the exchange was, it quickly escalated to something more. You can't stop thinking about it, and neither can Astarion. What portal into the Hells have you opened for yourself?

“Hello, my sweet.”

Astarion sought you out from the opposite side of camp, the flap of your tent closing behind him as he entered.

“Oh, Astarion! Hello,” you greet him. You're sitting on the floor of your abode, wiping various kinds of blood and grime from your armor. Thank the Gods you wear a metal breastplate; you couldn't imagine how tough it must be to remove blood once it's soaked into leather.

“You do know that Gale called everyone for dinner not long ago, right?” He tilts his head slightly back toward the direction of the campfire, a clenched fist raising above his shoulders. The thumb of his hand echoes his head, also pointed toward the middle of camp.

You place the armor and handkerchief off to your side, standing up. “Oh, yes, I did happen to hear him.” You cast your eyes to the floor and let out a brief chuckle, patting your hands over your lap to brush off some dirt. “I guess I just got carried away!” Your eyes move from the floor and up to Astarion's face, and you can see it immediately spelled out on his expression.

You're bullshiting him, and he knows it.

With his head still tilted to the side, he furrows his brows together. His eyes draw into narrow slits, and the corner of his mouth turns upward into a smile.

Truth be told, you were thinking about him.

You'd removed most of the blood on your breastplate hours ago. Though, your mind drifted to thoughts about your vampiric companion.

His fingers have brushed up against yours a few times on your adventure, mostly when you were both looting an old residence you'd come upon. You'd place your hand on a particular item, only to feel Astarion's hand covering your own from the opposite side of the shelf. You mindlessly began scrubbing every nook and cranny on your armor as you imagined his long, lithe fingers ghosting over your own.

~~~

A chill shoots down your spine at the sensation and you instinctively pull your hand back, a small startled yelp leaving your mouth.

“My apologies, darling. Didn't see you there!” Astarion calls from behind the shelf. He steps around the corner of the shelf, quickly enough to see you shaking off your hand.

“I-It’s quite alright, Astarion,” you stammer. An unsettling warmth radiates over your body, and you realize that his eyes are fixated on you.

But, something is different about this look.

He looks… hungry.

His eyelids have dropped and he's stepping closer, closer, until his cologne tickles the underside of your nose.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You look rather distressed.”

You briefly scan the room around you, only to realize that yourself and Astarion are the only occupants. Your breath catches in your throat as he clasps a hand over one of yours, bringing your hand to his mouth.

His eyes drift closed and he kisses the inside of your hand, interlocking his fingers between your own. He begins trailing kisses down your palm and to the inside of your wrist.

“Astarion, wha-” you manage to choke out before he cuts you off.

“I know you think of me, Tavaria.” Astarion's voice is a growl, low and throaty. He steps before you, his chest mere centimeters from yours.

“I see it in the way you stare.” He takes both of your arms, fingers skating gently over your forearms before sinking into the skin, and guides them to wrap around his neck. “Oh, so eagerly.”

~~~

“Of course, I'm sure you did,” Astarion says, his voice cutting you free from your thoughts. He's still smiling, as if he knew exactly where your mind had just been.

“Anyhow,” he continues, “I'll be out there mingling amongst the others. Do be sure to eat while it's still warm, hmm?”

With a wave of a hand, Astarion turns on his heels and walks out of your tent.

You release a sigh you didn't know you were holding as the flap to your dwelling draws closed again.

You haven’t yet told him you were a virgin. The chance hasn't come up naturally yet, though it almost did that night in the cellar.

Again, your mind drifts.

~~~

You gasp as his hands come to hold each side of your waist. He grinds his pelvis into yours, and you feel it through the layers of your clothing, nudging against your mound.

That's him.

The pressure of the lewd contact against your front sends a delicious wave of electricity down to your core. Your cunt throbs with each rut of his hips into yours and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your hands fall to grasp his biceps, needing something, anything, to help ground you in this moment.

Astarion drops his head to your ear, nipping softly at your earlobe. “Does our ‘illustrious leader’ touch herself while alone in her tent, as she thinks of me?”

You groan and collapse slightly into his grasp, wetness gathering at the apex of your thighs. This fucking bastard. How did he know? Did he overhear you at night?

…Did he stay up just to listen?

~~~

The thought sends your mind reeling all over again. You shake your head vigorously, hoping to rid yourself of the memory and the newly-formed blush across your cheeks.

He would have fucked you, right then and there. Would have happily taken you on the dirt floor of some musty old cellar. Probably would have shoved your face down into the dirt as he mercilessly plowed into you from behind, stuffing your cunt to the brim with his seed as he roared through his climax.

He would have never known that was your first time.

The thought excites you more than you'd ever care to admit.

Whatever you lacked in experience, you made up for in knowledge. You knew what you liked, and what lines you were hard pressed to cross. You were learned in the topic sex, knew of erogenous zones for humans and elves alike. You weren't quite sure if your hand felt as good as Astarion's cock would, but you made due. It was a worthy substitute, for now.

Your mind did indeed travel often to visions of the pale elf. You dreamed of your lips interlocked in a slow, tender kiss. You envisioned his hands traveling up and down the expanse of your back, coming to settle on the swell of your ass.

But mostly… you think of the cellar.

~~~

You groan through clenched teeth as his fingers pump languidly into your core. You can hear how wet you are, how much of a mess he has made of your body. You've never been touched like this before; it's better than anything you could have imagined.

Astarion's fingers curl into a “come hither” motion within you and you careen, back arching and your mouth falling open in a ragged scream. The palm of his hand grinds against your clit, and you swear you're going to die.

You swear he's trying to kill you, swear he's doing this so he can drink every last drop of your blood without consequence.

He begins to move his fingers in earnest and it's too much, too much too soon, your body has never known pleasure like this.

“Astarion-!” you call his name, your voice a panicked whisper. Suddenly, you shatter. Your vision bleeds into solid white as tremors overtake your body. Your hands seek purchase on his forearms, your nails digging deep enough to pierce his skin.

“That's it, little girl,” he coos into your ear. “You’re doing so well for me.” His fingers continue their assault against that particular spot inside you and you whine, dropping your head onto his shoulder. It's too much, you're too sensitive.

Your chest heaves, sucking in deep breaths as Astarion finally removes his fingers from your aching hole. A pitiful sob escapes you at the lost sensation of being filled. He chuckles darkly and takes his hand, the one that had just brought you to the peak of pleasure, and shoves it down the front of his trousers to adjust and squeeze his straining cock into a better position. Astarion lets out a soft groan as his length rests up against his abdomen, pulling his hand free from his leathers.

You finally find strength enough to lift yourself straight into a standing position, bracing your hands on his shoulders for leverage. You look up and do your best to focus on his face, watching as he sucks the two fingers he just had in your cunt, and on his cock, into his mouth. They're sure to have tasted of you and him, at this point.

“Absolutely exquisite, my darling. Truly the nectar of the most forbidden fruit,” he states with a sultry tone.

Half-lidded eyes were transfixed on yours and you suck in a shaky breath. You follow his tongue as it weaves around and between each of his digits, cleaning them diligently.

~~~

You raise both hands to your face, digging the heels of your palms into your eyeballs.

This fucking bastard.

He knew what he was doing. And by the Gods, did he do it well.

“It's all a bit of fun, my dear,” he told you after your encounter. Just two, beautiful people staring down the end of their lives together. Why not go out with a bang?

Your nose catches a faint waft of Astarion’s signature cologne, reminding you he had been in your tent mere moments ago.

“Probably best I go and grab supper,” you say to yourself. Not that you'd mind Astarion returning to your tent again, but you weren't necessarily prepared for the possibility of things… escalating.

You draw in a deep breath and cross the threshold of your tent. You're greeted by sounds of laughter coming from around the campfire. Wyll seems to be telling an entertaining story, based on Karlach wiping tears of joy from her eyes. Shadowheart watches as she sips from her goblet, Gale looking attentively at Wyll as he speaks.

Lae’zel has taken her dinner back to her tent, taking small bites in between the sharpening of her blade on the grindstone. Some might call it unsettling, but you feel a sense of calm and safety knowing she is always prepared to strike within a moment's notice.

Astarion is seated on the end of the wooden bench, a tome in hand as he laughs in response to Wyll’s story. You see a purple aura emanating from Astarion's lap, and you recognize the book he's holding to be the very one you found that same day in the cellar.

The Necromancy of Thay.

You'd taken down a Spider Queen and her clutch in order to obtain the purple oval gemstone placed in mouth on the book’s cover. It pulsed a brilliant violet light in Astarion's lap, his fingers slowly tracing each line of text within the pages of the tome.

You weren't quite sure why Astarion was interested in this book, but you let him have it. “That looks awfully heavy,” he had told you. “Why don't you let me carry it for you?”

You didn't know much about Astarion yet, but you knew that he was never quite pleased with the hand life had dealt him. Perhaps he was seeking answers to cure his vampirism, or hoping to find a weakness to exploit against his old master, Cazador. Whatever his motivation was, his eyes were glued to each page of the book, making sure to absorb each shred of information it had to offer.

“Good evening, everyone,” you say, picking up a bowl from around the edge of the campfire. You ladle some stew into your bowl, pleased to see that it's boar meat this time as opposed to rabbit.

Your companions nod and wave in your direction in acknowledgement of your presence. You hear slight murmurs as they resume their prior conversation.

“I figured I'd bring back a fresh kill for you all to enjoy,” Astarion spoke up, lifting his eyes momentarily from his book. “Why waste perfectly good meat?”

Gale clears his throat. “An excellent contribution to our feast, Astarion. We're most pleased by your generosity,” Gale says as he shovels his last spoonful of stew into his mouth.

“I’ll admit, it was the most flavorful boar I've had in a while,” Shadowheart adds, taking another small sip of wine, “though I'm unsure if it's due to hunger, or the meat being fully exsanguinated prior to butchering.”

Astarion rolls his eyes in response, settling them back onto the pages in his lap. “Remind me never to be nice again,” he retorts.

Wyll chuckles. “Oh come now, Astarion. We truly appreciate you sharing with us. You could have left the carcass to rot, but no! You were thoughtful enough to consider your fellow companions.” Wyll clenches a fist and brings it over his heart, dipping his head to the floor. “We thank you for your generosity.”

Astarion scoffs audibly as he turns a page, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“It was merely a matter of convenience that Astarion brought the boar back to camp,” Lae’zel suggests, coming to drop her bowl in the wash bin next to the fire. “Had Astarion not required blood, we'd be feasting once more on the lean, pathetic meat of a field rabbit.”

Astarion’s head lifts up from the book in his lap, his arm extending toward Lae’zel’s direction. “Finally, someone who truly understands!” he exclaims, voice jovial. “Thank you, Lae’zel. I always knew you were smarter than you looked.”

Lae’zel groans in response and returns to her tent, grabbing a cloth to polish her armor. A brief moment of silence spreads over the camp, the firewood crackling and hissing into the night air.

Karlach places her bowl on the floor between her feet and looks toward Astarion. “Hey, Fangs,” she says, “what's the book you got there?”

Astarion softly closes the book on his lap and holds it up with both hands, as if displaying it for the others to view. “Oh, this old thing? Just something Tav and I found while looting a residence in the Blighted Village.”

You watch as his eyes dip low, settling on you. “It was located in a cellar, along with some other most delightful trinkets.”

You swallow thickly around the innuendo, somewhat startled, nearly choking on a chunk of boar. You audibly clear your throat, casting your eyes downward at the bowl resting on your thighs. You feel your cheeks begin to burn and you dare not return Astarion's gaze. You mindlessly begin spooning your stew.

You'd read of vampires having the ability to charm their victims, particularly those who are of the young, innocent, female variety. Astarion had told you he was simply a spawn, lacking the powers and abilities of a vampire lord. Though, you didn't believe it. How else could he have lured so many people back to Cazador? They'd surely fallen under his thrall… to some degree.

Astarion is a portrait frozen in time, turned at the peak of his physical maturity. He has hard, chiseled muscle covering the entire expanse of his body. His face is cut sharply, as if carved out of diamonds. His cheekbones sit high and his nose is strong and prominent, the slightest bump seen right below the bridge. His jawline is well defined, drawing together into the soft cleft of his chin. Soft silver curls envelope his face in a halo, and he truly looks god-like when the evening sun shines over him just right.

A forever young, devastatingly handsome vampire, destined to walk Faerûn for all of eternity.

“Huh,” Karlach spoke up, breaking your mind free from the confines of your latest rabbit hole. “Well, what's it about?” Her questions were innocent enough, bless her Hellfire engine of a heart.

“It's a book of the dead,” Astarion explains. “I'm hoping to gain some particular knowledge from it.”

Both Gale and Wyll chime in together, almost in unison. “I don't think that's a good idea,” they say in near synchronicity.

Astarion's face scrunches into a scowl as he rises from his seat on the log. “Well, good thing it isn't either of you reading this tome.” He gestures toward you as you spoon another mouthful of stew past your lips. “Tav was gracious enough to share it with me. I think you all should have a bit more faith in our exalted leader.” His voice is positively saturated in sarcasm.

Shadowheart scoffs, crossing her legs. “You always somehow manage to deflect everything onto another, don't you, Astarion?”

With a wave of his hand, Astarion begins to turn on his heels and walk back toward the direction of his tent. “This conversation has outgrown its purpose,” he replies. “And for that reason, I shall retire for the evening.”

He suddenly turns back around, eyes again meeting your own. “But before I go,” he states, raising his free arm above his side. He dips his head in a gentle bow, crossing that same arm over his chest. “Please, let me know if you'd care for a detailed report of all I've learned, thus far.”

Your eyes widen and heat creeps up your neck once more. The bastard is really doing this in the middle of camp? In front of everyone?

“Goodnight, my dear,” he says in a hushed tone. You catch his mouth turning upward into a devious smile, and he once again turns his back to you and continues his path toward his tent.

“Go-goodnight, Astarion,” you manage to choke out. “Thank you a-again for the boar.” He waves a hand in acknowledgement before retreating into the safety of his tent.

“So, Astarion is trying to teach himself the secrets of Necromancy, is he?” Gale says, hand rubbing over the tip of his chin. “Out of all the magicks of the Weave, Necromancy is one that is strictly forbidden.”

The conversation drifts into Gale giving an explanation of Mystra rejecting the practice of Necromancy for her followers. The rest of camp seems drawn to his story, though your eyes are fixated on the red fabric of Astarion's tent across camp.

Was he giving you an invitation to join him later tonight?

A shiver passes over you at the thought, and you deposit your bowl into the wash bin near the edge of the campfire. You stand and nod gently toward your companions, ushering well wishes of good sleep and pleasant dreams to each. They return the favor, and you begin to walk back toward the direction of your own tent.

Perhaps you'd pay Astarion a visit later, after everyone has settled in for the night. It seems as though he’s awfully eager to show you something.

Yes, you think you will pay him a visit. You just have to wait until the camp quells for the night… which you hope doesn't take much longer.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #fanfiction #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion fanfic

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occamstfs · 2 months

Text

To The Ground Floor

Heyo- Saw this next picture and just had to use it so here’s a businessman to dumb sub twunk TF!

If anyone wants to suggest a prompt for my 1K follower post here’s the link- https://forms.gle/NE66kaH4KJxkhgPk9

Probably be wrapping it up/posting a poll soon! -Occam

I don’t know what my company was thinking when they scheduled our conference in Tenerife. It would be one thing if it was a retreat or team vacation, but it is nearly impossible to get any real work done with all these tourists stomping around and getting in my way. I was set to make it early to our morning meeting, as I always do, before this twat forced his way in before I could get to the close door button. He surely noticed since he glared at me before returning to focus on the only thing that seems to matter to him, his vanity.

In retrospect I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help but scoff as he started to take a picture of his reflection in the door. It was immature, but when dealing with this crowd of influencers or whatever these childish twits has put me off my usually stoic demeanor. He immediately responded with aggression, “You laughin’ mate? You lot all think you’re so much better than us eh?” He scowls once more at me and to his credit, I do think myself superior to him. Not afraid to say it either.

I open my mouth to shoot some clever insult at him but before I can the delinquent fully spits at me! Where does he get off! The elevator chimes as it stops at the sixth floor. I grab my handkerchief to wipe the spit off my dress shoes as I hear him run off, shouting “you’ll get yours ya git!” I look up to see the small of his back showing beneath his trailing coat and mesh top. I can’t help but stare as he runs, asshole he may be but, god, he is hot isn’t he?

I cough as I can’t believe I thought that! He’s absolute filth! Parading himself around dressed like that on a work day, my word! I don’t notice that there is no longer a handkerchief in my hand as I reach to wipe the spit off my shoes with my now empty hand. As I finally wrest my eyes from his pert body I notice that the villain pushed every button in the elevator. So help me god if I’m late to my meeting I will find him and- well, there’s not much I can do. I’m not exactly the peak specimen, unlike, uh him I suppose.

The doors click closed and begin to take me to the fifth floor. I consider hopping off to take the stairs but I’m sure he’ll be there waiting for me. I go to check my rolex when I notice I’m not wearing it? I would never go to a meeting without it though? My mind grows foggy as I thoughtlessly wipe the spit still on my hand on my suit. God it’s a little warm in this elevator isn’t it. I sniff the air and find that it still smells of that jerk. His cologne must’ve been something intense.

I continue to whiff the air before realizing that it is clearly not perfume but his natural body odor, blushing as I grow slightly jealous at his scent. I find my mind drifting as I think what a man he must be to smell so, mm. The only word I can think is, virile? Ugh, I need to get to work, this is going to set me back. The doors clink open to the fifth floor as the heat only continues to grow. Why am I wearing such a thick suit jacket anyway? It is so fucking hot on this island. I absolutely hate it here. I’ll just take it off for the rest of the elevator ride. Yeah, that couldn’t hurt right? My eyes glaze over as I think of his coat trailing off his head as he ran down the hallway and I bite my lip.

God that hot fucker. My jacket falls to the floor and before I can catch it it’s as if it was never there. I grunt as I think once more of my upcoming meeting. Surely they won’t judge right? My mind shuffles as I don’t even try to understand what has happened to my jacket. The fogginess in my head swiftly finds a form though as I see his smug smirk in my mind. Fuck I- I need to fuck him, or be fucked or? I grunt once more, my voice noticeably more dull. I try to fan my shirt open as the heat grows worse and I find myself growing hornier by the second. The elevator is already on the way to the fourth floor without my notice. I give up fanning my shirt and instead just open the buttons when I am suddenly met with something I cannot reconcile. When the fuck did I get, such, fuckable pecs? I press a finger into my own chest and start to drool as I see the depth of my muscle. I see my brown nipples grow and try to wipe the pooling drool from my mouth as I think how much my body looks like that uh, that twit? No that uh, that hot fucker? I feel like I’m losing my mind. Or, losing myself? Uh..

The doors open and close on floor four as I struggle to think of absolutely anything but that, uh, stud. My own chest jutting out forces me to think of his own hearty pecs. The powerful curves of his body stretching his fishnet top, ugh. I see the biceps now on my own arms and struggle to not flex them thinking of that staring at himself in the elevator’s reflective wall and posing. I stare at the abs pushing out of my torso and think of his cinched waist peeking out from those sagging pants. God why didn’t I just try to fuck him then oohh.. Or no, Why didn’t I give myself to him..I moan as I loosen my belt, trying to allow my growing erection some air, instead giving my cock and ass more space to expand.

God his fuckable ass was impossible to miss even through those jeans. I bite my lip once more trying to stop myself from moaning as the doors open to the third floor. No one is there to see or hear me as my pants drop to the floor and disappear as if they were never there. As if I would wear pleated pants ever I think blushing. My cock begins to grow to fill my boxers. Or no hee hee- Surely I’m not wearing boxers right haha, giggling as I look down and see the clear imprint of my erection in my tight spandex. Mikey would never let me wear something so unattractive as boxers~

I feel an itch in my crotch as I think of Mikey once more, not hesitating to wonder how I could possibly know his name. Nor why he brings me such intense, feelings. It’s just, I’m so lucky to have him! Ah- I might lose control if I keep thinking about him, I need to keep it together for my uh, meeting? I shove my hand into my crotch to deal with whatever that itch is when I find it’s not my still growing cock, but a jungle of pubes that have begun to grow down there. I feel my fingers drag through them, now covered in sweat as the pubes begin to push themselves above my waistline.

I giggle to myself as I see the thick black hair inch its way to create a perfect treasure trail up my stomach. I’ve gotta keep it looking good for Mikey after all! I play with the lengthening hair in my crotch, giggling to myself, as the elevator makes its landing on the second floor. I raise my sweaty hand to smell it as some prude stares in disbelief in the elevator lobby. I smile coily at him as he narrows his eyes in shock. He almost looks a little familiar but I’d certainly not waste any of my time on him haha!

He decides not to get on for some reason, not that I care as I look at my sharpening reflection. I play with my chest feeling the ebb and flow of my strength as I start to smell my own scent fill the elevator. I notice my feet are now bare on the dirty elevator’s floor. Ah, I hope Mikey won’t be upset if my feet are gross, smiling to myself as I think of him chewing me out. I feel a similar forest begin to grow in my pits as the elevator stops unceremoniously on the first floor before making its way to the ground floor.

I rub my hands all over on my now almost completely unclothed body as I feel my spandex shrink and tighten into a yellow speedo. My hands glide smoothly around the muscular curves, only ever getting caught on my tangled pubes as I giggle to myself. Wasn’t there something I had to do when I got to the ground floor? I raise my arm to bask in my scent as the elevator finally delivers me to my destination, and who could be standing there but Mikey!

“Mikey!” I shout at him! He looks so happy to see me, before responding, “well you’re looking great aren’t ya love.” He pushes and prods me as if he’s inspecting me as I proudly stand there giving him the doe eyes he demands. He smirks as he pulls me out of the elevator and plants his lips on mine. I can barely help but come right there as I feel my cock stretch at my speedo. I moan but keep it together, feeling his pursed lips grow into a smirk before he pulls away and laughs.

I tilt my head at him before he speaks once more, “you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now right, pet?” My face grows warm with blush, surely betraying my cluelessness as I struggle to remember. I had a meeting or? No, Haha As if! I, I could never work a stupid office job~ I try to look as coy as possible, inviting him to jog my memory. His eyes grow dark, not from aggression, but a hunger welling within him as he answers, “I need ya to get those posh wankers and bring them to me eh, doll? Need to them to submit yeh?”

My smile grows wide as my mind fills with excitement for this task. I’m gonna be so good and Mikey will be so proud of me! None of those boring businessmen will be able to resist me hehe! I begin to make my way out to the beach looking for any salarymen looking especially susceptible to my charms. I strut around, my body on display to everyone, monkeysuit suckers and other horny tourists alike. As if any of them have something more important going on hee hee! Soon they’ll all realize there is nothing more important than pleasuring Mikey!

#male tf #mental change #top to bottom #masculinization #dumber #male transformation

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hemmingsleclerc · 3 months

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Omg 🥹

ur writing for dad max is soooo cute

Can u make one where Olivia is graduating pre-k or something from school and the whole family attending the mini graduation and being so proud of her 🥹🥹❤️❤️

yes yes yessss 💗💗 thank u sm!!!!

Preschool Graduation┃MV1

It was a beautiful morning and Max was dressed in an elegant tailored suit. He stood proudly next to his wife Y/N as they attended their little daughter Olivia's preschool graduation. The air was filled with excitement as families gathered in the hall, adorned with beautiful decorations and colorful balloons emblazoned with the phrase ''Class of 2023.''

Max's heart swelled with pride as Olivia, in her tiny cap and gown, joined her classmates on stage. The little graduates were beaming with joy, and Max couldn't help but feel nostalgic about how quickly time had passed since Olivia's first day at preschool. He still remembered when he had cried that morning with his daughter in arms trying to convince his wife to stay home that morning and not send her to school because he still couldn't believe that the day had arrived.

Y/N, with a proud smile, squeezed Max's hand as they took their seats. Both families, the Verstappens and the Y/L/N, were there to celebrate this special moment. Max's parents were sitting nearby and exchanging proud glances with Y/N's parents.

The ceremony began with the children entering, holding hands and laughing. Max tried to maintain his composure, but every time he caught a glimpse of Olivia's radiant smile, his eyes filled with tears. He dried them discreetly, hoping his wife wouldn't notice.

When Olivia's name was called, Max couldn't contain his emotions. He let out a proud cheer that echoed throughout the room. He jumped to his feet, camera in hand, and started taking pictures madly. "That's my daughter!" he yelled, not caring that it elicited some amused looks from the other parents. Although his wife was not far behind, she also stopped to record from the moment her little girl got up from her seat until she turned to see her parents and waved with a huge smile full of joy from stage. Both families burst into applause and shouts when the little girl received her diploma. And to Olivia's surprise, all of her uncles were there too. Charles, Carlos, Lando, Daniel, George, Alex and even Checo with his family were there, all applauding excitedly and some crying.

Max's eyes shone with tears of joy and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, laughing at his lack of self-control, but he didn't care in the least.

To the amusement of the other parents, he snorted and pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket, declaring, "It's very emotional, okey?"

When the ceremony concluded, Max took Olivia in his arms and spun her around as she laughed with joy. Both met with the whole family along with the other drivers.

"Congratulations, my little champion!" Max exclaimed, his eyes shining with pride. Olivia smiled at her father, a miniature version of Max's infectious smile on her face.

The day continued with a celebration at Verstappen's house. Max and Y/N had organized a small gathering with family and close friends to honor Olivia's achievement. The backyard was adorned with decorations and a special cake.

While guests enjoyed the festivities, Max found himself reflecting on his journey into fatherhood. He had always been passionate about racing, but watching Olivia grow up gave him a different kind of satisfaction.

During the celebration, Max and his wife took a moment to share a few words for her little girl, expressing admiration for her determination and enthusiasm for her life. They talked about the joy she brought to their world and how her accomplishments, no matter how small, filled them with an immense sense of pride.

Many might know Max as the beast he was when he got into his F1 car and raced on the circuits, or others as the triple champion, but despite that, he was the best father to a beautiful little recent graduate named Olivia and he best husband for his beloved.

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crusheswhimsandfancies · 2 years

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📸: nightmaretruth28 on IG

#god the suit looks good #I love the pocket handkerchief #he’s so dapper #hahaha my tags suggestion was ‘he’s so daddy’#yeah that as well #ugh god #by the way this is the original cropping of this photo not mine #reece shearsmith #grimmfest #fan photo

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jeon-ify · 4 months

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insecure - mingi

mdni. 18+

warnings: semipublic sex, reader is insecure, swearing, semi car sex, mirror sex, just smut tbh

the pores on your face aren’t sitting right. every time you put makeup on, your pores just show through your primer, through the foundation and past the concealer and setting powder.

this was your last straw.

tonight, mingi was taking you out to his favorite restaurant to celebrate your 3rd anniversary as a couple, and boy was he overdressed.

he had his black suit on with a dark red handkerchief, and a pin with your initial on it— something he’ll cherish forever, gifted from his best friend yunho.

“mingi, i’m not going. i look and feel like shit. can we just go another day?” you’re on the verge of tears. you didn’t like the way the dress looked on you, your makeup wasn’t looking good at all, your hair felt flat and icky.

mingi’s head turned so fast, you could’ve sworn he broke his neck. “babes, what’s wrong? you look beautiful to me. that’s all that matters, hm? why do you feel like shit?” he asks, holding your arms in his hands, rubbing circles on your forearms.

“cus, bro, look at my hair and my fucking dress and my fucking skin is so ugly. no matter how much primer or skincare or shit i put on my face it’s still ugly. so stop telling me i look beautiful cus you’re lying to the both of us.”

you argue in a way that makes mingi’s breath hitch, at shock from the way you start to disrespect and insult yourself. he never heard you talk about yourself like this since the day you met him, what made you so insecure all of the sudden?

his hand moves its way up to your throat, squeezing at the sides, putting pressure on your soft spots as you sigh.

“i have never heard you speak like that about yourself a day in my life, and i never wanna hear you talk like that again. am i clear?” he scolds you, holding your jaw and tilting your head up so he gets a clear view of your makeup.

“you look so fucking good right now, y/n. i’ve been holding myself back from ripping that dress off you and fucking up all that makeup on your pretty face. put those red heels on, spray your burberry perfume and don’t put any panties on. understand?”

you put on his favorites all in under one minute. you finish touching up your makeup, sliding your panties off and putting on the red heels mingi left by the dresser for you to wear as he waits downstairs. you spray burberry her, a perfume mingi loved on you, and head downstairs.

mingi is scrolling through his phone for a while before watching you walk down the stairs. you feel his eyes on your braless chest, making your heart and stomach flutter.

“we don’t even have to go to dinner tonight, i could just fuck you in that dress and call it a night, to be honest.”

he confesses. you playfully slap his shoulder, walking behind him as he locks the door to your shared home. you walk behind him as he opens your side of the door, closing after you. his car smelled so fucking good. it had a clean and musky scent to it, much like how mingi smelled when he walked out of a fresh shower.

he turns on the radio to mask the tension in the car after the scene that just took place in your room. you remember that you’re not wearing any panties, and that if mingi touched you right now, you could be so quick to ruining his leather seats. he liked to touch you while he was driving, as he’s a very touchy person. as you’re holding his hand, his thumb presses into your palm, pulling out a gasp from your throat. his gaze on the road darkens, mingi getting hard just from the sounds you’re making. his hand moves to your thigh, rubbing circles and inching closer to your bare heat. his fingers hide under your dress, as his middle finger rubs slow circles on your clit.

“m-mings, pay attention to the road.” you moan, your false lashes fluttering as you try to keep your eyes open. you hold his wrist as you try to pull him away from rubbing too hard on the spot.

his middle finger enters your hole, thrusting slowly. he stops at a red light as he puts the car in park to lean over to place one hand on your mouth and fuck you with his other hand. he fingers your pussy as fast as he can. when you’re pulsing and clenching around his digits, the light turns green, and mingi pulls his fingers away, using one hand to steer, and placing the other hand in your mouth, cleaning off your juices and precum from his fingers.

as you arrive to the restaurant, mingi lets you out of his car, holding your hand and walking in with you. the place is almost like a museum, statues and portraits fill the walls as the music plays through the soft speakers.

“go to the bathroom, i’ll follow you in 5.” he looks around, waiting for you to start.

“why? we just got here.” you respond as you stand up, mingi looking into your eyes, not saying a word. you don’t say anything else, walking towards the bathroom. you know exactly what he wants.

you get into the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, trying to prepare yourself for what’s about to happen, thinking of ways you can avoid your makeup messing up.

the door flies open as mingi walks in, immediately grabbing at your hair and bending you over the counter. he uses his free hand to pull your dress down to expose your chest. your nipples come in contact with the cold marble as you moan from the contact. mingi humps onto your ass as your body jolts forward. he pulls your head up from your hair, making you look at the view in the mirror.

“now, what were you telling me when we were at home and you said i was lying to you? calling me a liar, baby?”

he bends down so your back is against his chest, his lips in contact with your ear as he kisses your jaw, waiting for your response.

“p-please-“ you moan. he pushes against you, feeling how painfully hard he is as he presses against your ass. when he doesn’t get the response he needs, he lands a sharp slap on your cheek.

“asked you a fuckin’ question. do you think i’m a liar? do you think i would ever lie to you? are you doubting how much i love you? lift your dress up and watch how i fuck you.”

“babe, someone could walk in any m-“ you try, but this doesn’t stop him. you lift up your dress and grind against him. and instead, he pulls his cock out and rubs it against your folds.

“let them. let them watch how i’m fucking my beautiful wife. my pretty baby. this pussy belongs to me, i’ll give you my children. gonna fuck all of my cum into you and make everyone watch how fucking sexy you look while taking me and fucking you dumb.”

he pushes his dick into you, starting at a rough pace. your body jolts and quivers as he makes you watch the way your breasts bounce with every thrust he gives you. you grasp onto the edges of the sinks next to you, trying to find balance in the way mingi is fucking you senseless. he hits a spot that makes you squirt, your juices dripping onto the tile beneath you.

“look how pretty you are. my fuckin’ angel. prettiest woman i’ve ever seen. you have it all, baby. makes me cum on sight, y/n. i love you— fuck, i love you. love you so much. made for me, doll. say it. wanna hear you say you’re beautiful.”

he groans as his thrusts come to a halt. you start to whine and cry out for mingi to slow down, but he only gets harder the more you beg.

“i ca-n’t take it mings, i’m fucking cumming, play with my clit, daddy. make me cum,” you cry. mingi complies the fastest he’s ever complied, feeling you clench down onto his cock as if he were gonna leave at any given moment.

“say you’re pretty while you’re cumming on my dick, wanna watch you.”

you feel like your legs are gonna fall off when you try to hold yourself together. your pussy starts to drip mingi’s cum, as yours follows suit.

“i’m be- fuck mingi! i’m beautiful! i’m cumming again, daddy, stay in me.” you cry. something about mingi watching you cry and beg just to prove a point makes your head spin and your cunt throb.

“fuck, i feel it, there you go, gorgeous. so pretty when you cum. imagine how pretty you’d be carrying our children.”

head spinning

taglist: @bbae98 @haohaoshoe @k-hotchoisan @stolasisyourparent @atinytiny @isiloiale @kpophosblog @nakiiko @certifiedmoa @aaniag @wonusbbg @yunnieo @chosoteta 🤍

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