#champagne and wax
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champagne & wax
𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: bang chan x f.reader
establish relationship
↳ after two years together you decide to spice things up.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut warning below the cut.
𝐚𝐧: I decided to reworked one of my old stories on here that I wrote back in 2020.
𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: soft dom! bang chan, wax play, praising, dirty talk from Chan, begging, nickname such as baby and baby girl, unprotected intercourse, teasing
After two years together you had the wise idea to spice things up. You probably should have suggested something like role play or like new positions, but you had the wise idea to let him pick. You trusted Chan completely and you knew he would never do anything to hurt you. But you also knew that he had a dirty mind. That evident by the dirty words he would whisper in your ears during sex, and when you would be out while he’s trying to rile you up.
Sitting on the edge of your bed you are wearing a robe waiting for Chan to get back from the store. He said he wanted to get champagne. You weren’t going to argue with him. Especially since you weren’t sure what he has in store for you.
The sound of the door opening in the distance catches your attention. A few moments later he walks into your room with a bag in one hand and two glasses for champagne.
You bite back a smile as he walks over and sets the bag on the dresser. He seems slightly nervous which is very unlike him. He’s normally so smooth when it comes to you. The fact that he seemed nervous left you feeling a little anxious.
He pulls out the bottle of champagne and container of strawberries, and then a candle. You were unsure how those three things were gonna spice things up.
“Chan?”
He turns and looks at you biting his bottom lip, “yeah?”
“What did you want to do?” You stand up and walk towards him.
“You can totally say no. I don’t want to do anything that’s gonna make you uncomfortable,” he’s rambling so you can tell that he is definitely nervous.
“Chan you’re making me anxious just tell me what you want.”
He reaches on the dresser and grabs the candle. He holds it out and your direction. You take in your hand and read the label, “safe for skin, sensual candle.” Your eyes go wide realizing exactly what he wants to try. You knew it couldn’t hurt you, if it could there was no way he would ever even ask.
“Did you want to try it?” You ask, handing Chan the candle back to him.
Slowly he nods his head. You’ve never seen him this nervous when it comes to being in the bedroom.
“I trust you Chan.” A smile forms across his face, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours for a kiss.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he puts the candle back on the dresser. You trust him more than you have trusted any other person you had ever been with.
“Okay. Let’s have a glass of champagne before we try.”
He wasted no time popping the bottle open and handing you a glass. You sit together on the edge of your bed. His hand is resting on your thigh while the other hand holds his glass of champagne. His thumb slowly rubs gentle circles on your. He always does this when he knows you're nervous. You make small talk but it’s clear you're both still a little nervous about what you wanted to try.
He takes your empty glasses and sets them down on the dresser. You take your robe off showing him your lingerie you had bought just for today. It’s a black lace set with crotchless panties.
He’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He steps towards you rubbing his hands up and down your curvy sides. He licks his lips slowly.
“You look so stunning,” he groans. From the moment he met you, he’s always made you feel like you were beautiful. He never lets you doubt your self confidence.
Leaning forward he presses his lips to yours for a searing kiss. You feel dizzy as his tongue slides against yours. Never in your life has someone kissed you the way he kisses you. He makes your world feel like it’s turning sideways as his hands slowly drag up and down your skin while your lips move together. Pulling away from you he’s wearing a lopsided grin.
“I bought it for you,” you whisper as you push your fingers through his dark hair.
“What do I do first?” you ask.
“Lay down on the bed baby.”
Stepping away from him you silently follow his command. Laying on your fluffy bed you look over to see him stripping away his clothes. He’s left standing with only his overpriced supreme black boxer briefs. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to his excitement that is straining against his boxer briefs. He walks over and opens your nightstand pulling out a lighter. He lights the candle and sets it on the nightstand. He leans over and presses a gentle kiss to your temple.
A few moments pass before he grabs the candle and moves on to the bed so he’s sitting on his hunches next to you. Your heart races slightly with nerves as he stares at you. Leaning down he places a trail of kisses across your chest settling your nerves.
“Ready,” he asks.
Silently you nod. You can’t help the mixture of nervousness and excitement you’re experiencing.
Slowly he pours a small trail of warm wax above your belly button. It doesn’t hurt really there is just a slight sting.The feel of the warm wax on your skin leaves you wanting more. The wax dries on your skin and he watches you intently trying to read your reaction.
“Did it hurt?” He sounds nervous.
You shake your head, “no do it again please.”
The corners of his mouth curl up into a grin and he says, “my dirty girl likes it.”
Reach over he pours a trail of wax up your thigh and while it dries he drags his tongue across the bare skin on your other thigh. The feeling of the warm wax drying on your skin and the mix of tongue on your skin is overwhelming. You moan loudly as he continues to kiss your skin.
“Baby girl you look so good,” he growls.
“Chan, it feels so good,” you whimper.
“You want more?” he asks
“Yes,” you moan.
He pours another line next to the one he already placed on your stomach. He leans forward kissing your chest and works his way up to your jaw. His kisses are sloppy and wet and you wouldn’t want it any other way.
As the wax dries you can’t take it anymore. You need more from Chan. He has you so turned on from this.
“Baby sit up and remove your bra,” he says.
Without saying anything you follow his lead.
“Chan please take me,” you whine.
His lips are ghosting your skin as he whispers, “okay baby girl. Sit up for me.”
You do as he says and you look at him curious to see what he wants you to do.
“Can you please take those pretty panties off?” he asked you so politely. He was being so gentle with you.
Taking your underwear off you sit it on the bed and watch as Chan strips away his boxers. He’s left standing in front of you naked and proud. Crawling back onto the bed he spreads your legs and sits back on his hunches. His hands run down your soft sides as he moves closer to you. He runs the tip of his length through your fold. You gasp at the feeling.
“Not yet, baby girl.”
He takes the candle in his hands again and slowly pours a trail of warm wax across your tummy. You can’t help but gasp. He pours one line before sitting the candle on your nightstand.
“You did so good baby,” he runs his tip through your folds his board head nudges you sensitive clit instantly making you moan. He has you on edge just the way he loves to do it.
He pushes into you in one slow motion. He grabs your legs, putting them over his shoulders as he leans over to be closer to you. The moment he bottoms out he’s looking down at you with a sinful smile. “You’re doing such a good job.” Nothing turns you on quite like when Chan praises you. Your body burns as you blush at his words. “Can I move?”
Silently you nod, unable to think of anything to say.
Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of your moaning and panting. He rolls his hips into yours over and over each time receiving a moan from you.
“Baby, I need you closer,” you whine.
Sitting back he drops your legs and he hovers over you still connected. He kisses his way across your chest. Taking your nipple in his mouth he sucks gently. You claw at his back wanting him closer to you.
“Chan you feel so good,” you gasp.
He releases your skin and gives you a wicked grin. Leaning forward he licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “baby girl you’re taking my cock so well.”
“I was made for only you,” you whimper.
You weren’t really a fan of dirty talk before you got with Chan, but there’s something about his low voice whispering in your ear that just pushes you over the edge.
“Are you gonna come for me?” He growls.
“Yes,” you moan.
“Then come,” he follows his command by crashing his lips into yours for a searing kiss.
You quickly find your release, your high washing over you as you come. Your chest rises and falls as you try to steady your breathing. Your walls pull at his length as he remains steady thrusting into you. Running your fingers through his hair you tug on his dark hair receiving a groan. He picks up his pace and groans your name as he finishes inside you painting your walls white.
Laying on top of you he kisses your neck gently for a moment. Rolling off you he smiles at you.
“I love you,” you say.
“I love you more,” he responds as he crawls off your bed. He remains naked as he walks off to your bathroom, he returns holding a warm washcloth.
“Let me take care of you,” he drags the warm cloth across your skin that is covered in wax. You can tell he might be slightly nervous if you're hurt.
“Chan,” you say, catching his attention.
“Yeah?”
“I really enjoyed that.”
A smile spreads across his face, “did you wanna take a bath together?”
“Yes please,” you smile.
He grabs the carton of strawberries and goes off to the bathroom with you. He draws a warm bath and fills it with lavender scented bubbles. You two spend the evening sitting in the bath eating strawberries together.
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#stray kids#stray kids x reader#my writing#skz#stray kids smut#stray kids insert reader#bang chan#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan insert reader#bang chan x yn#bang chan x you#stray kids x you#Christopher bang smut#champagne and wax
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Made this poll because I miss Champagne Video, my favorite video rental place. Your loss would be easier to bear if you hadn't been replaced with a waxing parlor.
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money, power, glory - coriolanus snow
on the night of your victory party, president snow decides that he wants a little more than a kiss from his victor—after all, don’t you ought to show your president just how patriotic you are?
cw: 18+//dub-con//age gap (reader is 18+)//abuse of power//mentions of exploitation//objectification//blowjobs//piv sex//coercion//loss of virginity//creampie//district 7 victor!reader and president!coryo
the party is all for you; the gaud and festivity, the fountains of alcohol, the ridiculously clad guests. you won, they tell you—but it’s a reminder of the children you killed as you fought tooth and claw in that arena. it feels wrong, to be put on display like this when twenty-three children lay dead in their districts. the celebration of murder—it’s as if you’re the prize animal at the circus.
you had been primped and preened by your stylist drusilla all afternoon, gritting your teeth as every part of your body was plucked and waxed, as she pulled your hair back into some elaborate hairstyle, the pins now digging into your scalp. that pain—the dull ache of it—ironically served as a reminder of the pain you had to endure in the games. you only survived because you slit the throat of that boy from two, watching the blood trickle out of his neck as you practically limped away.
you’d since been repaired, though many a time you felt that familiar ache in your ankle—the one that had been broken—and supposed it was punishment for the cruelty of your actions. but put twenty-four helpless children in an arena and ask them to fight to the death, and you learn that the ‘inherent goodness’ in human beings is nothing but a thin veil maintained by law and order.
‘enjoying the show?’ you hear the familiar, cut-glass voice of drusilla, who’s currently festooned in a garish purple gown covered in feathers—with a hairpiece to match.
you shrug, taking a sip of the expensive champagne, feeling the bubbles fizz down your throat as you swallow. it’s all so much, the noise, the people—as if you’re being smothered.
‘you’re being awfully quiet,’ she sighs, brushing your shoulder with her perfectly manicured hand. ‘isn’t there anything to tempt you?’
drusilla is more sympathetic than most in the capitol; she’d listened as you’d told her about your family back in seven, the trees that spanned for miles, how you often lay under their green blanket and daydreamed of a world beyond this one. but still, she would never understand what being a victor was like, there were scarce few in panem who did. many turned to morphling or alcohol upon their return home, and you’d heard horror stories whispered about victor’s being sold for certain services.
‘i’m just tired, that’s all,’ you murmur, reaching for another glass of champagne as a waiter walks past.
drusilla cocks a thin brow, a suspicious look glittering in her eyes. the throng of people is dizzying as you down your second champagne, but you feel your nerves ease, and pray that this night will become more bearable.
‘come, they all want to see you—their victor,’ she grins, pearly white teeth glistening under the golden light of the strings of lanterns.
you take her hand, and she pulls you through the crowd. it’s a vertigo-inducing sea of rainbow; hands clasping together in applause, rich cheers from their panted mouths. you feel your own lips twitch into a smile, but your eyes are somewhere else; far away from this. you can smell the soil back home, see the larks that fly through the trees that reach to the heavens. there’s a dreadful pang of homesickness thrumming in your heart.
and yet you cannot return home, not when they’re all watching you, waiting for the pretty victor to make a witty remark, or to make bids on who will get to have her first. you’re acutely aware that your pink dress is practically see-though, it’s gauzy fabric not leaving much to the eye. your feet ache from the heels they’ve put you in, and you know no matter how much they primp and preen at you, you’ll always be district. an outsider among those in wealthy excess.
among the throngs of people, you spot him—president snow. your breath catches between your lips. you’ve seen him before, obviously. his touch has always strayed a little too much when he’s been around you, but of course, you’d never say anything. you wonder how such a young man—he’s only 24 after all—rose to such power. nobody can deny how attractive he is, piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde curls. if he hadn’t put you in these games, maybe you’d even be persuaded to like him.
drusilla pushes you to him, and you stumble a little, the champagne causing a heady, floaty feeling in your body as you make an attempt to make yourself presentable. you hadn’t expect to be thrust towards him so soon, but the way he’s staring at you is as if he’s been expecting this.
‘don’t be so nervous, you look gorgeous,’ drusilla reminds you as you come to a halt before president snow.
he’s wearing one of his finely tailored suits; this one the crimson shade of red you’ve so often seen him wearing. you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and feel the absence of drusilla’s hand from your back. when you crane your neck—only slightly, so as not to seem rude—she’s disappeared into the throng of brightly clad partygoers.
‘my favourite victor,’ president snow reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to it. his lips are strangely cold. not that you knew what to expect, but somehow it makes sense. his demeanour is like ice.
‘president snow,’ you lean back into curtsy, your bad ankle aching as you do so.
he smiles, icy eyes flickering over your form. he can practically make out your undergarments in that dress; they’re a shade of peach and of such a sheer satin that you can nearly see right through, but it leaves enough for the onlooker to be left wondering what lies underneath. your eyes follow him, and you clutch at your arms shyly, as if half of the capitol hasn’t seen you dressed so scantly.
‘shy tonight, are we?’ he inquires, edging close enough to you that you can make out the slight five o’clock shadow on his jaw.
‘i’m tired, that’s all,’ you mutter, flinching as one of his hands grips at your waist.
‘i would’ve thought you’d enjoy this spectacle, seeing as you made quite the circus out of the arena,’ he leaned in close to your ear, in what you assumed was an intimidation tactic. in spite of being hardened by the arena, deep down, president snow terrified you. ‘the way you killed that boy from two—brutal. but you made yourself the star of the capitol…’
his touch strays further, grasping at the thin fabric that surrounds your ass. one blonde brow arches in surprise, and his lips flicker into what you assume to be a smirk. if he was anyone else, you would’ve pushed him away, but he’s your president. one word and you’d be good as dead; and after enduring the games, you’d rather not come face-to-face with that sort of confrontation again.
‘how pretty,’ he muses, fingers tracing lightly against your form. ‘did you wear this just for me?’
your lips purse, but your body propels you to give a swift nod of your head. ‘do you like it?’
president snow smiles, eyes dancing at your quick wittedness. the girls he has are usually stupid whores who he pays to suck his cock—you, on the other hand, are a precious prize. intelligent, obviously, and startlingly beautiful. and you’re the first female victor since mags flannagan, not that he has any say over her because he was still crawling his way up under dr. gaul then.
‘oh yes, i think you know why,’ he drops the fabric, and takes a few steps away, a blasé look crossing his features.
he watches as your cheeks turn a pretty pink, and you cast your gaze to the ground. how charming; you feigning bashfulness. he’d seen you at your most primal, knife dragging along the jugular of that boy. you couldn’t charm your way out of this one.
the silence pierces the air, and you are prompted to speak—anything to change the topic. the stagnancy between you two has wrapped it’s suffocating arms around you—and you don’t want to choke.
‘i must thank you, president snow, for the festivities,’ you gesture to the ridiculous amount of decorations; the blaring music and the light show.
‘i’m glad you like it,’ he remarks, but his eyes are still trained on you. he wants something from you, and you’re not sure what. ‘i had to celebrate my favourite victor, after all.’
you stifle a scoff; his flattery is sickening. he’s never this charming among company. he’s cold, calculating—you can see it in his eyes, still, but he so obviously needs you wrapped around his little finger. and of course, you can’t resist. who would disobey their president, after all?
‘you flatter me, sir,’ he swallows thickly at the appellation. god, he’d love to hear you call him that as he bends you over one of his expensive armchairs. he wonders if you’d beg him to stop, or if you’d take it. he can’t figure out which type you are, just yet.
‘there’s nothing wrong with flattery, don’t you think?’ he is close to you again, breath fanning your cheek. ‘especially when it comes from your president.’
you feel your body freeze up. there’s something so intimidating about him, and although you want to outsmart him, the way he makes your knees buckle turns you into another one of those bumbling capitol fools.
‘now, if you’ll excuse me, sweetheart. i’ve got a few matters to attend to,’ he backs away, leaving in a flourish of red.
you have to blink a few times to register his absence, and reach for another glass of champagne as a waiter holds out a decadent tray to you. why not? you think, taking time to sip elegantly at this one. there’s no harm in imbibing if you have to make it through this hellish night.
—
drusilla taps you on the back as you’re shoving an expensive vol-au-vent past your painted lips. when you turn around, she’s shocked to see your mouth full of the pastry, cheeks rounded out as you attempt to swallow it. the hunger pangs had grown considerably, and when you finally gulped it down, the effects of the champagne made you giggle.
‘oh honey,’ she shakes her head, reaching for a pristine napkin to wipe at the flakes of pastry by your lips.
the night had drawn on, and you’d been left with an anxious feeling after your encounter with president snow. everytime somebody so much as brushes against you, your head had whipped around as you searched for a head of perfectly-set blonde curls and a crimson coat. to your luck, it had only ever been waiters, carting more champagne. you reckoned you were drunk enough now that you didn’t care how you acted.
let them think you were a fool, you’d be heading home tomorrow anyways.
‘how much have you had to drink?’ she inquires, and watches as you furrow your brows in thought.
‘six, no—seven glasses,’ you admit, and drusilla scolds you with a clucking tongue, her pink curls bobbing as she shakes her head.
‘president snow won’t be very happy with that,’ she remarks.
your mouth turns into a curious pout, watching as her face falters into some sort of cryptic, far-away look. you run the soft fabric of your dress through your fingers as you let the words settle. no, it doesn’t make sense.
‘why would he care?’ you asked, a little piqued by the thought that he’d even be remotely interested in whether you were sober or not.
drusilla’s purple lips are drawn into a thin line, and she bends in close as if she’s ready to tell you a secret. your throat’s gone dry, the anxiety prying at you with it’s cold hands.
‘look, sweetie,’ her golden tone is laced with a little condescension. ‘president snow won’t like that you’re drunk. it won’t make the situation ideal for him.’
your brows quirk into a look of confusion. situation? drusilla sees your loss of words and takes it upon herself to inform you of the events. how naive you are, that you’ve got no idea just what he wants with you.
‘you’ve been asked to stay the night at the mansion,’ her eyes flicker to search for any eavesdroppers, and then she continues. ‘look, i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you earlier, but he’s asked to keep quiet about it. what with the others being jealous—’
‘others?’ your voice falters.
‘well, sweetie, you know how desirable victors are. president snow just wants to make sure nobody else gets their hands on you. that’s why he’s keeping you here, under close guard.’ drusilla bites her lip, revealing that she’s worried for you. she didn’t have much of a choice in your fate, but if she could forewarn you, she would.
you understood now why he’d been so touchy before—clearly he was jealous that somebody was trying to get their hands on his precious victor.
you lose all your words, mouth opening, nothing spilling out. it feels like it’s been filled up with dirt; you can hardly speak. drusilla goes to strike your arm, but is prevented from doing so as she’s whisked away by some blue-haired man harping on about her latest designs. once again, you feel the pangs of loneliness.
you had to reconcile yourself to the fact that the rest of your life—however long that may be—would be a lonely existence. you’d spent the better part of the month on the train, zigzagging back and forth between the districts, reading off prewritten speeches as you had to face the families of the fallen. all those children—their children—dead.
every night, you’d taken those pills prescribed by the doctors, the ones that stopped you from waking up with your hand around your throat as you screamed. you slept a dreamless sleep, but it became hard to not depend on them. what would you do without them tonight?
—
the party draws on long into the night, and you grow bored and overwhelmed. as per drusilla’s advice, and also not wanting to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning, you resorted to drinking the assorted non-alcoholic beverages.
your head is pounding by one am, but the party doesn’t seem to cease by any means. deciding you’ve had enough, and that nobody would really miss you—after all, nobody’s even talked to you for at least two hours—you stumble your way across the marble steps of the mansion. you hazily remember drusilla telling you what door you were meant to enter by, and you find it manned by a singular avox.
without a word, they let you inside, and you trail tipsily after them up a velvet staircase. your ankles roll as you climb the steps, head spinning, but it doesn’t take long to reach your room. your feet are aching, and when the avox leaves you to your own company, you practically tear the shoes off your feet.
you lay back against the white sheets, revelling in the feeling of the thousand-count cotton brushing against your skin. you’d never felt anything like it, and could feel your eyes shutting as you relax into the plush sheets.
you awaken what seems like hours later, but only twenty minutes have passed on the alarm clock by the bed. the sound of footsteps can be heard outside your door, and you’re surprised you can make it out as the party still booms outside the vast windows of the mansion.
you sit up, heart racing, and head throbbing slightly. you’re groggy from the champagne, and the bubbly tipsiness has given way to the absolute misery of sobering up.
the door opens, a small sliver of light giving way to the shadowy figure that progresses into the room. you squint, unable to make out a face, but pray it’s not one of the men you’ve heard were making bids for the victor.
you sigh a breath of relief when you see president snow, not a hair out of place as he stands beside your bed. your dress is up around your thighs, and you can see his blue eyes dancing across your frame.
‘president snow,’ you murmur into the darkness.
you wondered who had turned off the light in the first place—your memory is hazy at best but you don’t remember flicking the switch. an avox must have come past while you were sleeping.
‘i see my favourite victor has taken some respite,’ he muses, one cold hand reaching out to stroke your thigh.
you flinch back reflexively, not used to the icy feeling against your skin. nor are you used to the prying hands of men. the most you’d ever done was kiss a boy, and even then, that was years ago, you weren’t even sure it counted.
‘sorry,’ you spit out, lips trembling with apology. he only laughs, hand still tracing your smooth skin.
‘no need to apologise. i’d rather you doze here than fall asleep on a bench where any of those men could lay a hand on you,’ he makes a sound of disgust, shaking his head at the thought. ‘i couldn’t let them spoil my pretty victor.’
you feel your cheeks warm—did he really think you were pretty? but you remembered who he was; in fact he was the very reason there were even any games at all. he could put a stop to all this if he wanted, and yet he didn’t. you couldn’t let him fool you with his charm.
‘it’s very thoughtful of you, president snow,’ you offer, not wanting to raise suspicion in him.
in the moonlight, you can see a smile flicker across his lips. his hand moved further up to the apex of your thigh, and your breath hitches. what was he doing?
‘do you like that?’ he murmurs, leaning in against your ear, breath hot.
you can’t think of what to say. your thighs tingle a little with the touch, but you don’t want him there. it’s wrong. he’s the president though, and how can you tell him no when he could have you killed?
‘you’re a quiet one, aren’t you?’ he mutters, but wanting to rouse a sound out of you, he moves his hand to press flush against your panties, thumb stroking the area where your clit is.
you let out a breathy gasp; the pleasant warmth flooding your belly. his brows quirk up at your quick response—you’re so willing. he wonders how far he can push you; of course he wants to have you no matter what, after all, it’s his right as president—but he wants to know how much of a whore you are under those pretty clothes.
he knew what district girls were like. lucy gray—though that name made him shudder—bent easily under his guidance. he hoped you’d do the same; obey him. he had more power now, six years after his stint as a mentor and then peacekeeper. he kept that to himself; everybody else simply thought he’d been struck down with a bad bout of the flu, when really he’d been uncovering rebel plots by day and by night was burying his cock deep inside of whatever district slut would have him.
‘please, president snow,’ you beg, head spinning as he rubs at your sensitive nub.
‘please what?’ he inquires, an undercurrent of menace in his voice.
‘i mean—are you sure we should be doing this?’ you furrow your brows with anxiety. ‘aren’t there men who want to pay you good money for this?’
you squeeze your legs together in the hopes that he’ll stop, but this only angers him and he uses his muscular hands to pry your thighs apart. you can’t deny him this; he wants it, and he’ll have it.
‘oh, they’re not going to get you. no, you’re far too precious for the likes of them,’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘when i realised you were going to be sold to some scumbag who’s been divorced three times, well, i couldn’t let that happen.’
your mouth stretches into a perplexed pout, and you let out another soft moan as he rubs diligently at your clit. his other fingers brush over your red lace panties, and he sucks in a breath as he feels how soaked you are. surely you cannot deny him when you’re practically begging for it?
‘but…’ your lips tremble and you are almost deterred from saying what you want to by the scornful look painted across his noble features.
‘surely you don’t want me,’ you scramble to find an excuse.
‘why wouldn’t i? it’s not like you’re a girl anymore, hm? you’re nineteen, and ever so pretty,’ his other hand thumbs your cheek. you didn’t feel it, but you’d been crying. his thumb presses against a droplet.
‘please,’ you plead. ‘you wouldn’t enjoy it—i’m a virgin.’
he laughs, shaking his head at your stupidity. he hasn’t suspected it, what with the way you were dressed; the gown revealing far too much of your body to him—he could see the top of your nipples sticking out of the neckline.
‘oh no,’ he clucked his tongue. ‘then i simply must have you. how could let you i waste your virginity on any of those men when i could have you?’
you shake your head, body trembling as you feel yourself give way to his fingers, which were slowly bringing you to your pleasure. you clutch at the plush sheets and feel yourself gush, your panties growing even more damp.
he can’t believe it, how quickly you came. he wonders if you’d ever even touched yourself before. sure, you’d killed a boy, but you really knew very little about the world, and even less of men. it enthralled him.
his cock strained in his suit pants, and he let out a low grunt. you responded with a shocked look, but sighed as he stood up, letting go of your thighs. the way he’d touched you—it was scandalous. surely he’d be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out?
but your heart fell when you remembered that he was president. it’s not as if you were anything more than a hired whore who had to do her duty by him.
‘you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ he called out, combing a hand over his perfectly styled hair.
your mouth went dry, but you stood up, wanting to be defiant, clawing for anything to make you seem like you had some sense of autonomy. it was a lost cause, however. you forgot how he towered over you now that your heels were discarded. you couldn’t face up against him.
‘i said, you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ his voice was wrought with ire this time, and you nodded.
‘yes sir,’ you respond with a clear tone. you’re surprised you even managed it.
he reaches out to stroke your face again, sighing as your warm cheeks meet the cold pads of his fingers. you tremble a little, knees buckling in fear. anything could happen.
‘now, are you going to be a good girl and show your president how patriotic you are?’ he asks.
‘yes, mr president,’ you reply blankly. the name sends the blood straight to his cock.
‘then get on your fucking knees,’ he commands.
your head is spinning, but you somehow find your way to the ground, knees aching as you press them into the wooden floorboards. you hear the sound of something unzipping, and when you glance up, you come face to face with his cock.
he’s hard, and huge—not that you’ve ever seen one before—and he lets out a heavy grunt as he sees how pliant you are. he wants nothing more than to fuck that pretty little face of yours and watch how you gag around his length. he hasn’t known he was so big until he’d gotten to district 12 and the stupid district sluts kept choking on his cock. when he’d dressed in academy rouge he’d only ever known his own hand. but now, he knew what power he could exert with all eight inches of himself.
‘good girl,’ he strokes your chin, and when you open your mouth, he slides his thumb over your bottom lip.
your saliva coats his thumb, and you gag a little as he slides it to the back of your mouth. a small grin flickers across his lips; if you’re choking on his thumb, just imagine how bleary-eyed you’ll be as you gag around his cock.
‘god, i don’t want to think about what i would be missing out on if you’d died in that arena,’ he tuts at the thought, and slides his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own saliva at the corner of your lips.
your lipstick is smudged now, and he’s determined to ruin it even more; perhaps even have your mascara running down your cheeks as you take his cock in your mouth.
‘when i’d heard that the victor was to be the eighteen year old girl from district 7, well, i knew i’d be able to have you. especially once i got a look at you, in your victory dress. did they make it that short on purpose? to make my cock hard?’ he laughs, reminiscing how he’d taken a whore that night that looked just like you, pretending it was you that he was fucking from behind.
you shiver, terrified by him, his words. they’re disgusting. the way he viewed you as something to exploit—and it can’t even be considered taboo because you’re nineteen, after all. if the president wants you, he’ll get you.
‘answer me!’ he scowls, tugging at your intricate hairstyle, which hurts because the pins holding it together were already poking at your scalp.
‘no,’ you murmur, because it’s the truth. you wore what they told you to, you didn’t think it was supposed to be for him.
‘no?’ he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘well then, tonight at least—they must’ve known i wanted to have you. wasn’t going to let you get away from me this time.’
you swallow thickly, mouth agape in terror, knees trembling against the cool floor. you can feel the bruises forming on them; the dull ache of kneeling is humiliating.
finally, he presses his cock against your open mouth, a little pleased that it was hanging agape in shock, making it easier for him to slide it right in. you freeze, blinking back tears of mortification, but you can't say no, not when he's your president, not when there's that nagging ache in your core that makes you yearn for his fingers back against you.
you open wider, and he slides himself in, cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. you gag, the tears now dribbling foolishly down your cheeks, and president snow just laughs, the sound mottled with undertones of a soft groan. you wrap your lips around him, and move to bob your head up and down, but he grabs your hair and tugs it towards him.
you cry out, scalp stinging and mouth stuffed full to the brim with his cock. his grip tightens as he begins to thrust into your mouth, grunting as feels your saliva coat his length. he can't even fit himself all in, it's pathetic, but he'll help you learn in time how to deepthroat, so he can watch as your mascara runs while you beg him to push himself further down your throat. you'll become his personal fuckdoll.
'teeth,' he winces as he feels your top teeth make contact with the skin of his cock, and embarrassed, you make sure to push your top lip around them.
his lips stretch around a groan, forcing your nose to meet his pubic bone—the sound of your gags are delightful, and when his eyes flutter shut, you know he's enjoying it. he tosses his head back, cock throbbing as he forces it back and forth in your mouth. when his eyes open again, it's to the sight of your mascara running, thick black streaks painting your cheeks as you choke around him.
'so pretty,' he strokes your cheek, smearing the mascara even more. he wonders if you'll still be crying as he stretches you out, filling your cunt with his big cock. probably; he's forgotten how much whining virgins do.
feeling himself close, his thrusts grow more haggard, and you feel his balls slap against your chin as you attempt to breathe—through your nose, of course. his movements are suffocating, you're grasping at his hips, praying for it to be over—and then it is.
hot sticky spurts of cum slide right down your throat as he gives a loud moan, crying your name in praise. part of you—the part you revile—reddens at his praises, you want nothing more than to please your president. the other part of you tries not to gag as the pearly ropes of his cum slither achingly slow down your throat.
'good girl, swallowing it all—you'd do anything for your president, wouldn't you?' he coos, pulling his cock out of your mouth.
your lips ache, and you're sure the back of your throat is blooming purple with a bruise; but you nod, eyes all fucked out because your cunt is dripping wet, all for him.
'well, i really only want one more thing from my victor...' his voice trails off, lips pursing. you can see the desire in his eyes, icy gaze dripping with lecherous intent.
and yet, you cannot deny the fact that he had already made you cum once, that your body is begging for him. you hate it. you want to scream—if only you weren't so tired and your mouth didn't ache so sorely.
'how about you lay back in the bed, hm?' his voice is soft, laced now with the sweet tone he uses to charm the wives of senators and the little girls that give him roses.
you oblige blindly, and rise, knees black and blue, legs trembling, but somehow you find yourself laid back against the plush sheets once again.
‘can’t believe nobody else has had you,’ he murmurs, removing his shoes carefully, and then undoing his suit. it’s brand new, and he doesn’t want to spoil it.
when he’s undressed to his boxers, you can’t help but admire his form. he’s well-toned, biceps muscular, the slight formation of abs on his stomach, and you can see his cock has once again hardened. you press your thighs together in want, and he watches as you gaze at him, half-terrified, eyes blown wide, and yet half-wanton, body beckoning him to take you and make you his.
‘god, you’re so pretty,’ he muses, crawling across the bed and placing his arms either side of you.
you shiver, suddenly feeling brushed with cold, perhaps it’s from him. how fitting, you think, that his name and touch are both reminiscent of the cold. you can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, a reminder of your helplessness in this situation. the way he’s going to do whatever he wants with you.
he slides his fingers under the straps of your dress, forcing it down your arms. you lie still as a stone, letting him slide the dress down your body, exposing your breasts, watching him sigh as your nipples respond to the frigid temperature radiating from his body.
he takes one breast in his mouth, laving at your nipple until it hardens under his tongue. your hands are urging you to clutch at his perfectly styled hair, but you cannot move; the tears are brimming in your eyes and you’re not sure if they’re out of shame that he’s touching you, or shame that your body is so pliant to his touch.
he pushes the dress down further, and gets on his knees until he’s completely stripped you of it. there you lay, among the pristinely white sheets, the party alive outside of your window; completely bare besides your panties. your skin is pocked with goosebumps as he runs his hands over your bare stomach, fingers latching at the waistband of your panties.
‘god, are you wet for me?’ he chuckled as he removes your soaked panties—still evidence that he’d managed to make you cum.
you are unresponsive until he gives your skin a pinch between his slender fingers, and a soft yelp escapes your lips.
‘talk to me,’ he commands, though there’s an undertone of begging. not that the president should ever have to beg. ‘i can’t have my pretty victor keeping silent, especially not while i fuck her. i want to hear the sweet sounds that are going to come from your lips.’
you give a nod, eyes flickering to glance at the ceiling, watching as the hazy lights from outside dance upon the ornate eaves. one of his hands touches your cheek, the chill bringing you back to meet his gaze.
‘gonna make you mine,’ he groans, reaching down to palm at his cock through his boxers.
you push away the tears at your eyes, and your hands go down to clutch at the sheets. you’re still a little floaty from the champagne, but it can’t seem to take you away from what is occurring right before your eyes.
'look at me!' he snaps, hard cock now pressing against the inside of your thighs.
'sorry,' you manage to get out, lips trembling as you brace yourself—he's big... too big.
'fuck, can't believe i get to have you all for myself...but i suppose it's the least i deserve as president,' a soft laugh plays upon his lips, the sound soon mottled by a low moan.
he eases the tip into your hole, sighing at your tightness. your eyes flutter shut, but strangely, your core only tingles as he slides himself into you. it's the ultimate betrayal—your body is yielding to him, growing wetter as he sheathes himself completely inside of you; at least, most of his eight inches.
'so fucking wet,' he grins devilishly, beginning to buck his hips gently.
you look so angelic, hair sprawled out on the pillow like a halo, the soft lights from the party glowing against your skin. coriolanus wants to take it slow, in spite of how much his cock is throbbing, because you are his prize—he must relish you. he can't let your virginity go to waste, after all. half the capitol has been vying for it, and now he is the one to take it. he imagines the disgruntled looks on the faces of the men who had bid for you when he informs them that you've been spoiled—and if any of them complained, well, he's the president. he could see to their... accidental deaths.
as he stretches out your tight walls, a pretty moan escapes your lips, by accident, but he takes this as a sign that you are surrendering yourself to him. coriolanus smiles a little to himself, and fastens the pace slightly, grunting as your body opens itself to his caresses.
‘you like that, hm?’ he inquires, one cold hand moving down to rub your clitoris.
you let out another gasp, this time of shock and pleasure, as his thumb presses against your sensitive nub. his eyes dance with delight as you come apart under him, your cunt growing slicker by the second. you’re so beautiful, and he glances down at the part where you two meet—his big cock stretching out your tight walls. a milky ring of your arousal coats his shaft, only driving him more lustful as he fucks you.
‘president snow…’ you cry out, trying to shove his hand away.
you can see the ire returning to his eyes, and when he presses down on your clit harder you stop and allow your body to relax. you realise it’s fruitless to try and fend him off anymore—he’s making you feel good, after all. but that’s the terrible part of it, the fact that you can feel waves of pleasure washing over you again. he’s smiling sickly, groaning as he ruts into you with grunts.
‘you're so fucking tight,’ he moans, watching you moan with pleasure as his fingers bring you to climax.
‘so good…’ you say, barely above a whisper, but the knowing look he cast you makes you admit it—after all, perhaps he’ll be kinder next time. let you decide when you want it.
‘yeah? you like the way my big cock is filling you out? how your president is reminding you who you belong to?’ he grunts, and you give a lazy nod.
the coil in your stomach comes unbound slowly as the combination of his cock stretching you out and his thumb rubbing diligent circles around your clit drives you over the edge. your toes curl sightly, arms moving up to grip at his back. you find the smooth, cold skin is surprisingly toned; hard muscles prominent under your touch.
you feel your pleasure peaking, body dancing with warmth and want. you try to stifle your moan by turning your head into the pillow, but his hand grasps your chin and pulls you back to meet his gaze.
‘don’t turn away from me!’ he scolds, brows knitting into a pained expression.
‘i’m sorry…’ you murmur, too ashamed to meet his gaze.
you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body as his thumb coaxes another orgasm out of you—your second one for the evening. your cheeks fill with warmth as your arousal coats his cock, causing coriolanus to let out a breathy groan.
you pray that it ends soon, but your body continues to dance with pleasure and satisfaction, giving into him, allowing him to make his stake in you. his pretty little victor that he was deflowering—and she came around his cock and everything!
‘fuck,’ coriolanus grunts, hands travelling down to grab at the soft skin of your hips as he pounds into you. ‘all fucking mine. taking me so well…’
when you clench around him, he feels his balls tighten, and cock still for a moment as he reaches his own climax. you’re mewling so prettily—half-begging for him to stop by the way your head roles about in a dissociative reverie shows him that if your heart cannot be persuaded to take him, your body will.
‘shit,’ he spits as he slows his pace, dragging in and out of you at a painfully still speed.
he doesn’t want to finish so quickly, but you’re so fucking tight and your slick coating his cock has set his nerves on fire—his tip is throbbing with desire. coriolanus’ fingers are plunged into the supple skin of your hips, digging far enough that you feel a few bruises forming under the skin.
'so fucking tight,' he curses, sliding himself all the way out before filling you up to the hilt again. the sound of your wet cunt squelching around his big cock reverberates against the walls.
another moan escapes your plump lips, egging coriolanus on—clearly you're enjoying this to some extent; you've come twice tonight. next time he might not be so kind, after all, he's only being so sweet because you're a virgin—you're more like a prize to enjoy than anything else.
'gonna fill you up with my cum,' he sneers, eyes rolling shut as he pushes himself against your g-spot. you contract around him in response. 'you'd like that, wouldn't you? taking your president's cum? so patriotic, aren't you?'
the way he's still squeezing and pinching at your hips urges you to respond, so you cast a groggy nod—the champagne is still making your head swim.
'good girl,' he praises, and you respond with a genuine smile.
coriolanus grunts heavily, his balls tightening, and he feels hot spurts of cum spurt out from the tip of his cock. the relief that washes over him is blissful; watching you take every last drop of him makes him sigh deeply. you can't help but squirm at the sticky feeling as he thrusts his cum back up into you. you're trying not to lurch away in disgust—his hands, now clamping down on your shoulders, are keeping you there, close to him.
when he pulls out, he gazes at your weeping cunt in awe as his cum trickles down your thighs. you’ll always be his—he can see that by the tiny smudge of blood that also coats your inner thigh on one side. he doesn’t know if he can bear to sell you to those other men now; perhaps he’ll just have to lock you up here and keep you all to himself.
‘thank you, mr president,’ you murmur, half on the verge of sleep.
your body is humming with exhaustion, and you begin to curl up into a supine position, trying to force away the uncomfortable combination of his sticky cum and the dull ache between you thighs.
‘i’ll be back tomorrow,’ he presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing a few tendrils of hair out of your half-closed eyes. ‘don’t think you can get away from me now, my pretty victor.’
#coriolanus snow#tom blyth#coriolanus snow x reader#tbosbas#hunger games#smut#coryo x reader#the hunger games#fanfic#tbosbas fanfic#tbosbas smut#the hunger games smut#the hunger games x reader#x reader#female x reader#tom blyth x reader#drabble#coriolanus snow fanfic#coriolanus snow smut#tbosbas x reader#coriolanus x reader#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow imagine#tom blyth fanfiction#the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction
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2023 is:
Regular facials, manis, pedis, massages, Brazilian waxes, lash lifts. Glowing skin. Glowy makeup. Fluffy curls. Microshaded brows. Laser hair removal. Perfect Rx Skincare. Veneers. Intoxicating perfumes. Shopping. Diamonds. Designer bags. Credit card rewards. International travel. Networking. Career certifications. Investing more. Brunch with the girls. Picnics. Farmers markets. Art galleries. Museums. Fresh flowers. Silk scarves. Big sunglasses. Beautiful lingerie. Silk robes. Receiving lots of gifts. Lots of sunlight. Hot yoga. Nature hikes. Tennis lessons. Green smoothies. Candles that smell expensive. Sleeping 8+ hours a night. Bubble baths. Studying foreign languages. Absorbing as much knowledge as I can. Book clubs. Pottery classes. Cooking with fresh herbs, vegetables, and spice. Champagne. Charcuterie & bruschetta. Gelato. Fresh bread. Ocean air. Hugging my loved ones. Pet cat. Giving lots of gifts. Journaling. Meditating. Gratitude. Volunteering. Donating to charity. Manners. Etiquette. Charisma. Therapy. Healthy boundaries. Radical personal responsibility. Positivity. Self care. Abundant love.
#aesthetic#luxury#dream life#black girls in luxury#black women in luxury#dream girl#moodboard#manifest#manifestation#that girl#it girl#my uplods#my aesthetic#text#dream lifestyle#2023 goals#goal setting#future lifestyle#future millionaire#soft girl#soft life#rich girl#rich living#high value woman#high maintenance#level up lifestyle#level up#manifestations
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what dating seventeen feels like
pairing : seventeen x gn!reader
headcanons , fluff , misc
warnings : none
word count : 1.1 k
requested ? no
a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen
choi seungcheol
falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.
cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.
having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.
yoon jeonghan
diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.
always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.
having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.
joshua hong
warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.
lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.
a honeymoon phase that never ends.
wen junhui
walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.
taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.
living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.
kwon soonyoung
energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.
zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.
excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.
jeon wonwoo
tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.
re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.
defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.
lee jihoon
thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.
morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.
cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.
lee seokmin
wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.
always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.
finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.
kim mingyu
sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.
admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.
the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."
xu minghao
the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.
wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.
growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.
boo seungkwan
warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.
teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.
resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.
hansol vernon chwe
watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.
communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.
loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.
lee chan
the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.
driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).
making each other's inner child feel safe.
#seventeen#seventeen headcanons#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x you#choi seungcheol x reader#yoon jeonghan x reader#seungcheol x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua hong x reader#joshua x reader#wen junhui x reader#jun x reader#hoshi x reader#kwon soonyoung x reader#jeon wonwoo x reader#wonwoo x reader#lee jihoon x reader#woozi x reader#lee seokmin x reader#dokyeom x reader#mingyu x reader#kim mingyu x reader#xu minghao x reader#minghao x reader#boo seungkwan x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#hansol chwe x reader#dino x reader
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i need more about the wedding or the wedding press tour.
or smut on the train.
all of it. anything.
snow bride |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|
prompt: based off the wedding night on the train before the press tour.
contains: smut. 18+. dom/sub dynamics implied. oral fem receiving. pinvsex.
“Wait!” Corio called, hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. Your champagne soaked squeals had him grinning, hand slipping around the white material of your dress.
“Corio,” You laughed, turning in his arms. “What are you doing?” Your eyes shone, love drunk and glassy with adoration, the high of the wedding, the reception still fresh. Your family, friends, other elitist members had waved you goodbye, with tight smiles and slithering hopes of joy for the newlyweds.
“It’s tradition, my love.” Corio smiled. Alone, he was more generous with his affection. His hands moved, bending at the knees to hoist you, one arm under your knees, the other on your back, cradling you to his chest.
You laughed, head tipping back, dizzy off the champagne that seemed to endlessly flow, drunk off the way Coriolanus held you while you danced. He moved into the threshold of the train’s carriage, the wafting scent of roses. Tigris and your other bridesmaids had taken the liberty of decorating the honeymoon carriage. Dozens of white roses, just like the ones from the ceremony, lined the carriage’s space. Dripping wax candles in their holders for a more romantic ambiance. A bottle of champagne and a signed card of well wishes on the plush bed, where Coriolanus set you down.
You lay there, sprawled, the frill and pearls of your dress around you, veil fanning around your head like a halo. Coriolanus grinned over you, blonde curls fallen from his coiffed hair from the night.
“How will this do? Hm, for the next two weeks?” Coriolanus reached his hand up, now bearing his own wedding ring, complimentary to your own. “Up to the Prima Donna’s standards?”
The nickname you despised had you rolling your eyes, shoving his shoulder lightly. “It’s wonderful.” You hummed, blinking up at him. “Much nicer than what I expected.”
“You didn’t think I’d put you in something like the tributes used to come on, did you?” Corio grinned, stroking your cheek bone affectionately. “Your father would have a noose around my neck before we ever made it to the train station.”
“No,” You giggled, shaking your head, your hand falling gently on top of his. Rings rubbing, metal on metal. “I just… It’s nice. Feels like home.” Your now shared home with Coriolanus, you meant. A wedding present after the engagement from your father, before you moved into the Capitol’s Presidential Mansion. Always with fresh cut roses, burning candles, and soft fabrics that relaxed Corio. Made it entirely your own.
“We’ll be back in no time, my darling.” Corio whispered, the pad of his thumb brushing over the soft rouge of your cheeks. “It will be a nice break. Nice to see all of Panem. You can see my work throughout the Districts.”
“I can’t wait.” You hummed, lips pressing gently into the pad of his thumb. Coriolanus’ cock lurched, a jolt of excitement even at the simple tenderness of your touch.
You watched his eyes darken, that primal need fell over him easily, lips curling in a sinister smile. His hands slithered up your arms, circling your wrist gently before he pounced, slotting his body over yours, lips pressed to yours. You loved when Coriolanus was passionate rather than powerful. When he’d kiss you like you were his lifeline, like the very thought of his lips not on yours would have him breaking apart. When he took time to explore every inch of your mouth, swallowing your breathy, needy whines, his tongue pushing past your teeth.
You could feel his erection even through the layers of your dress, pushing into you, hips rolling and rubbing into your own. His hands anchored your wrists down, squeezing them tightly before releasing them, tangling in your hair and veil instead.
“Corio,” You whined, the tug of your veil still pinned into your hair. “I- Let me take it off.”
He didn’t seem to hear, or ignored you if he did. His lips trailing up and down the side of your jaw, pushing into the nape of your neck to inhale your scent, the perfume oil you dabbed yourself with before walking down the aisle- it drove Corionalus mad the entire ceremony. His hands tugged at the veil again just to hear you whine, covering his smirk by sucking a bruise into your skin.
“Corio, please.” Your voice lilted, breathy with desperate pleasure. “Help me take it off.”
His lips were swollen, blossoming red and plump, his tongue running over the bottom lip. Despite the glint in his eye, he pulled back, offering you a hand. The carriage was beginning to rumble, you could hear the whistles and shouts of the crowd bidding goodbye outside over the crack of fireworks illuminating the Capitol.
Coriolanus pulled you up gently, a hand on your hip to steady you as the train started to glide. His hands squeezing the fat of your hips through the dress, gliding down your thighs, your claves to shove the fabric back up.
“No,” You clicked, a huff of annoyance. “You have to undo the buttons.”
“Oh.” Corio mocked, eyes cutting to yours in warning. “My apologies, Prima Donna. How dare I not know.”
You huffed, brows furrowing into a sulking frown. “That’s not a very nice way to treat your wife on our wedding night.” You held the bedpost, his fingers trailing up your legs, squeezing over the fat of your ass- playfully or a warning, you weren’t sure.
“You should be nice to me, Corio.” You turn, batting your eyes at him from over your shoulder.
He lifted a brow- amused. Fingers hooking the buttons from their fastens, calloused hands ghosting down your spine, leaving you shivering. “I think I’m very nice to you.” Coriolanus declared.
“You’re teasing me.” You frown, lip jutting partly for show- partly because you knew how much he loved it.
“I haven’t even begun to tease you, my love.” Coriolanus’ tone dropped to a dark, husky octave that had you shivering, nails digging into the post of the bed.
“Corio,” You whimpered, breath caught in your throat. “Don’t be cruel. Be nice to me tonight. It’s our wedding night. No teasing.”
Corio hummed, loud and dramatic, like he was truly thinking it over. Maybe he was. Maybe he was contemplating being so cruel and teasing you, a punishment for you daring to step out of line- so he could regain control. Or maybe he’d do the opposite, be so doting and ravenous of you, give you the attention you were requesting so you’d become desperate for it even more. Keep you in your place that way, desperate and ruined, only for him.
Coriolanus pulled the fabric off your shoulders, with a tenderness that made your knees weak, delicately removing the dress from you until you were left bare. Standing before him in your wedding lingerie, a garter on your thigh that bore the same initials stitched as his handkerchief. It was a tradition from the old world, something people had forgotten about or let die out with so many other traditions, but you kept. It was sweet, to you, carrying a piece of him intimately to reveal later.
Corio’s eyes never left your thigh, sinking slowly to his knees in front of you. His initials there, stitched in metallic red thread to the white silk fabric, tied to your thigh in place. “Do you like it?” You whispered, the flecks of the golden flames from the candles reflecting in his eyes.
Coriolanus’ gaze lifted to yours, hands cupping the back of your thigh, just above the garter. “You did this?”
“Well, I-I didn’t make it. I, uh, I had it made but it was my idea.” You blushed, heart hammering. “My grandmother used to tell us stories that her great grandmother did this. It was an Old World tradition, but-but I thought it was… endearing.”
Coriolanus nodded, eyes flicking to yours, a wolfish grin spreading across his lips. “Endearing…” He hummed, pad of his thumb swiping over the fabric that covered your inner thigh. “Very endearing.”
“You like it?” You squeaked, nails raking over his scalp, pushing the curls back so you could better see his face.
“Yes.” Coriolanus nodded. You didn’t think he’d take to the garter over the lingerie the way he did. “I think you look wonderful with my name on you.”
You blushed, hands raking through his hair. His fingers slipped over your panties, tugging them down slowly. Coriolanus undressed you, just as slowly and tantalizing as before, leaving you entirely bare in front of him- except for your ring and the garter.
Corio had you pinned to the wall, hands anchored in on your hips, tongue lapping furiously at your clit, running through your folds. His eyes on you, holding your gaze, sharp squeezes to your hips when you’d tilt your head back and look away for too long.
“Corio- oh!” You whined, pulling at his scalp, pulling him further and further into your sopping cunt. His mouth suckled at your clit. He was always so good at giving head- too good, you’d told him once, at the beginning of your relationship, though he’d never tell you who his past lovers were.
“‘M gonna- ‘m gonna cum, Corio, please. I-I’m close, I’m so close.” You writhed under his touch, hips bucking and twisting. His hands held your firm against the wall, fingertip shaped bruises blossoming on your skin, eyes on yours, nearly challenging.
Your fingers curled, nails digging into his scalp, yanking at the curls, moans and whimpers tumbling from your mouth as your vision blurred. You hoped the train's walls were soundproof from the other cabins. Corio would normally mock you for being so loud, tease you with a slanted grin. Thankfully, his mouth was still occupied on you, even as your legs shook and slid down the wall, further onto his face.
Your chest heaved, a sheen of sweat that accompanied your flush over your body. Corio grinned, pulling away, hands still holding you in place. His chin was dripping with your release, and he didn’t dare bother to wipe it away. Instead, he kissed you. Hand gripping your jaw firmly, snaking to the back of your head. It was filthy, him making you taste your own release on his tongue.
“I want you,” Corio growled, a heaving breath between a rather harsh kiss. “To keep that on.” He muttered, and you knew he was talking about the garter. “And just that on for the remainder of the night, do you understand?”
You nodded, a pathetic mewl trapped behind your teeth, nose brushing his. Corio’s thumb traced your bottom lip, brushing over the kiss bitten, swollen lip before slowly pressing his thumb in. You took the digit obediently, cheeks hollowing around his calloused finger, sucking lightly. Coriolanus’ cock throbbed at the sensation, at the sight of your rounded eyes on him, sucking at his finger.
“If you want me to keep being nice to you,” Corio’s chin lifted, looking down at you in that authoritative way that made you throb, aching from the freshness of your last orgasm. “You keep that on. Make sure it doesn’t slip.”
Coriolanus kept his word. He was nice to you the entire night, long into the morning when you settled into District One. Your legs wrapped around his waist, clawing at his back, pressing his head into your neck to feel closer to him. He covered you with sweet kisses, lips dragging along your cheeks, your jaw, feather light kisses that had you swooning.
You were aching, linearly limping to the podium with Coriolanus, clutching his arm up the stairs, trying to hide your wince with every step. You’d spend the day in bed after that. Coriolanus would have orders to give, meetings- boring matters you were ok to miss. He’d spend his next night as a married man in the large bath tub with you, petals in the water, your legs on either side of his thighs making the water slosh over the side.
Every time he heard it announced- Mr. and Mrs. Snow. He would beam with joy. That politician smile, dazzling and smug, holding your arm as you walked to the podium of each district.
#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x capitol!reader#coriolanus snow x oc#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x female!reader#coriolanus snow x fem!reader#coriolanus snow x you smut#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x you#young!coriolanus snow#tbosbas fic#tbosbas#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow fic#tbosbas fanfiction#tbosas x reader#tbosas smut#tbosas fanfiction#president snow#the hunger games#coriolanus snow x fem!reader smut#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow x reader smut#young!coriolanus snow x reader#hunger games fanfiction#coriolanus snow drabbles
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HONEY, I’M HOME! | ONE-SHOT
put the champagne on ice because it’s time for a celebration! your husband knows he won’t be home in time for your anniversary dinner, but surely you can find another way to entertain yourself. speaking of which… what was that noise?
content: female reader x satosugu, reader wears dresses and has acrylic nails, threesome, c*cking, oral (reader receiving), male m*sturbation, cheating, fingering, cum eating, breeding, mention of pregnancy and children, neglectful husband. word count: 2.4k
suguru isn’t surprised, really, when he enters his home to find that the table is already set. tall ivory candles sit half melted in their brass holders, lines of wax hardened on their polished sides. he can tell by the disheveled state of the kitchen that you must have worked hard on dinner tonight. it’s what you always do when he comes home from an overseas trip. today is no exception.
it makes him regret being late again, but not enough to have phoned home, hoping you wouldn't be too angry at him if he showed up with a pretty diamond brooch. he toes off his dress shoes, tosses them recklessly so that they hit the side table. he loosens his tie as he calls out your name.
silence. not even your irritable humming that he’s grown to tolerate.
when he doesn’t hear a response, sugur peers into the coat closet. empty. and walks the few paces into the home to check the guest bathroom. also empty. to his surprise, he doesn’t find you cheekily hiding in it to surprise him. considering the very long text message you’d sent him to remember your anniversary — he expected you to greet him at the door in one of your pretty little dresses and push him into the dining room with a glass of red wine.
ever since the two of you moved into this neighborhood, you’ve played the role of pretty, doting housewife. you mingled frequently with the older more seasoned women, gossiping on brunch dates about your husbands and kids. you even started appeasing the neighborhood watch with baked goods and begged suguru to give hefty donations into the construction of new homes.
you wanted desperately to be accepted, for them to not see the old you under the expensive makeup and designer clothes. of course, your husband knew how important this was for you. how lonely you got when he was away.
you wanted a family, three kids minimum with one big dog and two cats. later, suguru had said, once we settle in and build a life. but you were getting impatient, he could tell. your kisses were getting lighter, your sex life fizzling out after the third time he’d insisted on cumming on your tits instead of in your cunt.
you stopped going to your brunches and would barely get out of bed most days. it’s one of the few reasons why suguru spent so much time working. your sad eyes made him feel guilty, the way you dragged yourself out of bed only to cook and shower made him feel off-kilter. he had tried shopping sprees and fancy dinners but it wasn’t enough for you… until one day it just was.
he couldn’t explain it but you’d recently started going out again, socializing with neighbors and going to barbecues. you’d even let him touch you, practically riding him within an inch of his life after weeks of nothing. with your anniversary now here, suguru was certain he had helped you come to your senses, but where were you?
the man makes his way down the main hall, releasing the upper half of his hair from its confining bun. he hopes you aren’t in bed again, or if you are that you’re laying there bare and prepped. he lifts a hand up to run through his black strands, only to pause midway as he hears a steady… thump.
thump thump thump he hears a few doors down. it seems you are in the bedroom as expected but…
“he’s gonna be home soon! we need to— ah! —we need to s–stop.”
a man’s voice responds to you, one that makes the hair on the back of suguru’s neck stand up. "fuck you’re so tight, don’t think about him, baby. focus on me."
suguru feels his mouth dry out as he moves further down the hallway, eyes widening as he stands outside your bedroom door. the closer he gets, the thumping turns into wet slaps. what he imagines are strong hips colliding against your own as you claw at the bedsheets; an action you had always done with him because you were his. there was no possible way you’d let his best friend fuck you in his own home. you would never.
“t–toru please, i–i need you!"
you wouldn’t.
"yeah, baby?” suguru can hear you gasp, knowing satoru must have found that soft doughy spot inside you. “that’s the spot isn’t it?”
the door is not wide open, but just enough that suguru can see his worst nightmare playing out in front of him.
his eyes zero in on the way your legs are wrapped around satoru’s tapered waist, your arms clinging to his broad shoulders as his strong hips meet yours. you look so blissed out, tilting your head back in ecstasy to give his best friend access to the sensitive skin of your neck. how could he? how could you?
you took your vows with him, it was suguru who took you in when you were nothing but poor trash on a street corner. him who begged satoru to not tell his parents how you really met. the thought of you betraying him this way makes his hands curl into fists.
he can’t help but feel jealous, how could he not? and who were you to make him feel jealous? you’re angry at him for neglecting you; spreading your legs for someone that suguru always felt second best to. you’re punishing him, you must be.
even so, he can’t will himself to intervene. he wants to drag you both out of his house and throw you back on the curb. he wouldn’t even let you grab your clothes — no. he wanted you exposed and cold on the porch so that all your neighbors knew how much of a whore you truly were. would they see his friend’s spend dripping down your supple thighs onto the pavement? see your nipples harden as you tried to cover yourself up?
even with all this anger, suguru can’t tear his eyes away from the sight. he thought he’d heard every whimper and moan from you but… not like this. you were so loud and out of breath, voice cracking as you clawed at satoru’s back with your pretty acrylics. you’d never been so good for him, so pliant.
he's still pissed, furious even. but from his position at the door he can see so much; satoru’s fat cock disappearing into your sloppy pussy; the shake of your tits with each thrust and the way satoru wraps his tongue around your perky nipples. suguru can even see the red crescents in your skin from where he grips the fat of your thighs.
he’d been with you more times than he could count but… suguru has never seen this much of his best friend. maybe in high school he’d had little peeks in locker rooms but right now he can see the muscles of his back vividly, how they turn and flex with each thrust. he can see the way satoru’s sweat drips down onto your body, his hand coming up to push soaked white strands back out of his face.
it’s only when his cock stirs in his slacks that suguru is honest with himself. he was jealous not only of satoru, but of you, too. he wanted to be pressed between the two of you, burying his cock in your hole while satoru plowed into his from behind.
he imagines worshiping your body with his tongue as satoru gripps his dark strands, bangs falling into his eyes as you begged him for more. more.
"you’re so pretty like this," satoru buries his face into your neck, pulling you tighter against his body so that you are chest to chest. "suguru doesn’t make you feel this way, does he?”
"n–no. never!”
“then tell me i’m better.”
“you’re — oh fuck — you’re better! ‘toru, i’m s–so close."
"yeah? can feel you squeezing me, does it feel that good?" he’s teasing you, just the way you like.
"fuck," suguru closes his eyes, his palm rubbing against his slacks, gripping his throbbing cock to the wet sounds of another man pounding into you. it’s so fucked. he knows this. but he can’t stop himself from unbuttoning his pants and tugging his cock out of his boxers. you didn’t know he was there but you both owed it to him. he just wanted a taste of what you had.
his breath hitches when satoru suddenly pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach before slamming back into your cunt. your body is pressed into the mattress, screams muffled as satoru fucks you at a agonizing pace. suguru starts to slowly pump his cock, letting a glob of spit land on his hand as it mixes with his precum.
he tries his best to match satoru’s thrusts, focusing on the way your ass jiggled everytime his hips slammed into the soft flesh. he can already tell from here that your skin will have bruises. how many times have you said no to sex to cover up the marks, satoru’s scent still on your skin? how many times did he find you asleep in bed, just narrowly missing his best friend sneaking out the back door?
“fuck! faster, p–please!”
"shh, it’s alright, baby. i’ve got you."
"i–i love you, ‘toru." suguru can see you push yourself back to meet satoru’s thrusts and he grips his cock harder. “cum inside me.”
god, he’s fucking you raw, isn’t he?
satoru moans out your name, pressing his face into your spine. you bend so prettily for him, force yourself to be smaller so that he can take up all of the room you have left. “i love you, too, sweet girl. gonna get you pregnant, yeah?”
you arch your back even further, looking behind you for the first time only to lock eyes with your husband in the doorway. your makeup is wrecked, your hair in disarray. you can’t help but to shiver at the intrusion, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.
and something about the… way your pleasure filled gaze turns into fear has suguru cumming suddenly, grunting and failing to keep his moans at bay as he shamefully covers the wood floors and the front of his pants.
he doesn’t have time to question why satoru doesn’t seem fazed, the man gently pushing your head back down against the bed and continuing to chase his high. you gasp and try to lift yourself back up.
"hold on! satoru—"
"thought i told you to ignore him?" he says, a sly grin on his face. satoru glances back at his friend and lets out an amused laugh at his disheveled state. “never took you for a voyeur, suguru. isn’t your wife such a good girl?”
you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and satoru lifts his hands to squeeze your ass, spreading you open to spit on your hole. “gonna breed this tight little cunt like it deserves. couldn’t wait around for you to do it, right?”
suguru watches with bated breath, a hand lifting to grip the doorframe. he continues rocking his hips into his soiled hand. “be quiet,” he growls, shame traveling up his chest as a blush trickles up his neck and cheeks.
satoru doesn’t slow down and you’ve all but fallen limp in his arms. as he finally cums, satoru makes sure to be loud, making a show out of the final spurts of white that he pushes deep inside your womb. he pulls out slowly, hissing as he watches your pulsing heat fight to keep him inside.
satoru glances back at the doorway.
“i know you’re angry at me or whatever, but i’m all spent and she still hasn’t came.” the white haired man looks at suguru with almost crazed eyes. “help her out, won’t you?”
at first, you look up at him in shock. “satoru–”
“this is what you wanted, right? for him to notice you.” he grabs your hips and flips you onto your back, dragging you to the edge of the bed like you weigh nothing. “seems like a perfect opportunity to me, then.”
suguru watches as the two sets of eyes look at him expectantly, his hand going still as he weighs his options. “this stays between us, satoru” he chastises, making his way over to the bed and dropping to his knees.
“don’t worry, your perversion will be safe with me.” he sends him another dazzling grin, pressing a kiss to your knee. “now, get to work. you’ve neglected her long enough.”
suguru looks at the mess between your legs, salivating at the sight. his cum covered hand grips your thigh, the other spreading you apart to watch the way your pussy pushes satoru’s cum out in buckets. he leans in to lick a long stripe from your hole to your clit, both of your juices coating his tongue in a salty glaze. “so good,” his voice is muffled as he moans, using both hands now to keep your thighs from closing around his head.
“sugu!” you gasp, satoru leaning over to tweak your sensitive nipples with his thumb and forefinger. you struggle against the overwhelming sensations, gripping on your husband’s dark hair as he fucks his tongue into you while simultaneously trying to move away from satoru’s hand.
you know you won’t be able to last long like this, your thighs shaking as suguru begins to thrusts his cum soaked fingers into your cunt. you feel a familiar pressure against your belly but something foreign lies underneath it.
“w–wait i don’t,” you whimper. “i’m gonna–”
a burst of liquid pours out of you, soaking your husband’s face as you spasm against him. “holy shit,” satoru sings, “look at you go!” suguru is drinking you in like a man starved, sucking and nuzzling his face into your cunt.
“sorry!” you whimper as you ride out your high, “‘m so sorry!”
suguru can barely remember his name over the ringing in his ears.
when you start to whine from overstimulation, satoru grips the back of his friend’s head and lifts him away from you. his face is ruined, dripping with both of your juices and his eyes looking even more hooded than usual.
satoru smiles down at him. “isn’t she amazing? put on a good show for you, yeah?”
suguru’s chest heaves as his dark eyes connect with deep blues. “i hate you,” he groans, roughly pushing away the hand in his hair.
satoru laughs, pulling you into his arms so that your back is against his chest. “hey, sweet girl,” you gaze up at him with drooping eyes, his hand gripping your chin. “you got one more for me? i think your hubby is hard again.”
MISSROKI. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.
#‧₊˚ 🖇️ ۫ ⭒ — sorin writes.#gojo x reader#geto x reader#gojo x female reader#geto x female reader#gojo x black reader#geto x black reader#gojo x geto x reader#satosugu x reader#satosugu smut#gojo smut#geto smut#angelshubnetwork
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How they spend Valentine's Day with you
Bo, Vincent, Lester, Rusty, Chop top, Nubbins, Drayton, bubba, brahms, and Harry
Bo
To be honest he forgot about it until either Lester or Vincent brought it up, lucky for him it was still rather early in the day so he told you that he'd be heading into the next town over to run some errands. He came back with some yellow roses, a card, and a small box of chocolates (He might even try something new in bed for you)
Vincent
Vincent was nervous as this would be your guys first Valentine's day with each other and he didn't want to mess it up and ruin everything. He gave you small wax figures of you, him, and jonesy and a few sketches he thought were worthy enough, maybe next year you'll get some poems
Lester
Like his older brother Lester was also quite nervous he had this whole night plan, he was gonna take you on a nice pretty picnic dinner date with all of your favorite foods but just as you both sat down that's when you felt the rain drops start to hit your head. Lester was so bummed that the picnic went south, you both decided to watch a movie instead
Rusty
Rusty made sure that he would have Valentine's Day off he took you out to a small but nice diner and then drove around for a bit before he drove back to the house. Where he then led you into the bedroom for you to find a bouquet of wild flowers, pink champagne, chocolates, and teddy Bear (and some condoms)
Chop top
He made sure to brush his wig, put on his best vest and grab your favorite records from his collection for tonight. You and him relaxed in his room listening to all the records you could, dance to them every now and then
Nubbins
He used his best roadkill to make you a pouch so you could match him!! He even filled it up with all his favorite photos of you sure some of them were blurry or inappropriate but it's the thought that matters. He even asks if you'd stay up and go roadkill hunting with him.
Drayton
Drayton hates this damn holiday it's just a scheme those big companies made to steal the money he worked hard to make but now that he has you? It didn't change his opinion at all he's not going to buy you anything, but he will make the god damn best chili you'll ever have in your life. Though if he's feeling nice he might go to town and buy some ingredients to make his own chocolate (keyword might)
Bubba
Bubba doesn't really know what to do for Valentine's Day he's never celebrated it before and he never thought he would but he'll try his hardest to make it a good Valentine's for you. He picked some flowers for you from the side of the road and fields, he even did his chores extra fast so he could spend the rest of day with you
Brahms
You think he's clingy now? wait until the morning of Valentine's Day he's basically attached to your hip, the only time he's away from you is when Malcolm arrives to deliver the groceries and your surprise. In one of the bags there was some of the finest wine and chocolate money could buy from this town. Brahms stayed up just a little past his bedtime to order them for you
Harry
You're going to spend Valentine's Day alone as much as he'd love to spend it with you, he does have a town to terrorize. That's not to say he won't spend the next day with you, in the morning you'll wake up to a card and heart shaped chocolate box on your kitchen table and who knows he might Even take you on a date to the mines
#harry warden x reader#rusty nail x reader#bo sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#brahms heelsire x reader#bubba saywer x reader#chop top x reader#nubbins sawyer x reader#drayton sawyer x reader
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― enclosed with love
spending valentine's day with you
eli, mary, michiko, naib, norton, percy, philippe
i adored this year's vday café designs so i wrote some hcs for them ^^
⚠️ modern AU
♡ Mary
With a delicate and highly sophisticated palate, Mary is always searching for something new to satisfy her. For Valentine's Day, she books a private tour at a high-end champagne house.
Her driver is scheduled to pick you up in the early afternoon. She arranged your date so “late” to give herself ample time to settle on an outfit. Her room is littered with hat boxes and empty hangers and piles of ‘maybes’. Everything must be perfect for you. But, every second without you feeds into her restlessness, and she ends up calling you to fill the time. Hours go by on the phone & she still refuses to hang up until she pulls outside your residence.
When she first greets you from the backseat of her car, her hands are on you immediately. She smoothes out the collar of your jacket and peppers a couple of warm kisses all across your face, somehow never quite landing on your lips. She quickly dabs away all the lipstick stamps she left with her handkerchief and apologizes for being so forward,,, only to end up doing it again.
Mary takes high pride in her outfits and never compromises on looking classy. But somewhere in the back of your head, you think: All white? To a wine tasting? What if she gets red stains on her dress? From anyone else, this comment would insult her ― she doesn't take kindly to the insinuation that she's a klutz. Coming from you, she laughs it off saying she's always looked better in red anyway.
She waits until arriving for your tour to present her gifts. Mary gives VERY generously. There's an entire table prepared for you. Mountains of roses, desserts, tickets to that trip you've always wanted to take, luxury spa packages -- she has everything.
♡ Norton
This Valentine's Day is the first Norton will be spending with someone. He'll act like he's not that invested in it, that he's just indulging you.
He keeps up a haughty smirk when you first meet for your date. You had a love letter delivered to him that morning, and he's 100% taking the opportunity to tease you about it. You wrote some pretty embarrassing things about him. How's the real deal living up to your expectations? Dying to bring some of those thoughts to life already? Unfortunately, you insisted on having a traditional date for Valentine's, so you'll have to keep yourself in check until tonight. ← He knows he makes you crazy & he loves having that effect on you.
He gives you chocolates as a gift. They're clearly homemade, shaped like rocks of various sizes with a little gold-dusted heart hidden among them. But just in case you wouldn't be able to recognize them as rocks, he also provided a little toothpick "pickaxe."
Presenting something homemade is a little embarrassing, even if he hides it with that big grin of his. He gives your present a little too fast before switching back to teasing you again.
♡ Philippe
As a perfectionist, Philippe starts planning for Valentine's Day very early. He experiments with all sorts of gift ideas. You're not sure what's going through his head, but he has a highly specific vision and won't rest until he achieves it. He seems to find it important that he gives you something handmade.
Matching photo lockets? A decoden case (if you're into fun phone cases)? Not meaningful enough. A flower vase modeled after his own hand, to sit on your desk? Too tacky. A wax figure? Maybe, but that's too predictable on its own. Maybe he should learn guitar to serenade you.
His final choice is ambitious, but Philippe always is. He builds a little table out of resin, and preserved inside it are your favorite flowers, with detailed wax figurines of you and him dancing among them. It sits in a corner of his favorite room, where he often does dance with you ♡
On the day itself, Philippe would prefer to stay home. It's one of the rare times he gets to have you to himself free of work constraints.
He's the type that always needs to be doing something with his hands. He'd enjoy making chocolate sculptures together -- it's a cute idea, he thinks, to watch you make something so passionately. Whatever your skill level, he loves anything you make.
In the evening, he'll take over all the cooking. A quiet night with steak and good wine (or your preferred drink) is a little cliche, but you both deserve it. Plus, he loves nothing more than casually chatting with you while he works in the kitchen.
♡ Naib
Naib isn't really into the idea of Valentine's Day. He might not even realize it's coming up unless you tell him about it. You'd have to be explicit that you're looking forward to spending the day with him, and even then, he's totally unprepared.
Gifts have never been his forte. Neither have grand romantic gestures. But he's good at working his pragmatic side into the little things: so rather than push himself to be this lovey-dovey, chocolates-and-roses type of lover for the day, he focuses on being 'present' for you.
He brings you breakfast in bed. He's a mean cook, and knows all your favorites. Everything he makes tastes like home, warm and full of love.
Most couples give each other flowers, he knows that, so he goes shopping for one. You're surprised when he presents you with a bouquet of lemons. In his mind, they're cool and refreshing like you, everyone could find a use for some lemons, and personally he finds the colors to be appealing. It doesn't occur to him that lemon bouquets might be an unusual thing to give.
He relies on you to direct the date. Whatever you say, he'll agree. In public, he never leans in for kisses but wouldn't oppose yours. You can try to stand closer to him & he'll slink an arm around your waist briefly, as if to reassure you that he'll always have a secure hold on you, but he'll pull away again before long.
♡ Percy
In spite of all of his eccentricities, Percy is surprisingly traditional when it comes to romance. He invites you to a nice dinner date & arrives much earlier than you, waiting with a bouquet and chocolates. When he first sees you, he wraps a secure arm around your shoulders to tenderly kiss your forehead.
Getting to see this side of him is the payoff of building such a deep relationship with him. Percy is a difficult person to get through. He's obsessive to a fault and cloisters himself away in his studio for days at a time ― no one else would have been able to breach his heart like you have. He will take proper measures to express your importance to him.
His first real kiss leaves tiny particles of something on your lips, but they're sweet in taste. He laughs at the startled look on your face and reassures you it was just a sugar cube. At first he says he was just fishing for a reaction, but later confesses: he was afraid the lips of an undead man might have an odd taste, so he crunched a sugar cube to sweeten it.
♡ Eli
Eli spends the morning delivering roses to other couples on his bicycle. People tend to get especially flattered when their flowers arrive via owl, so his services are very popular this time of year.
He enjoys the little bouts of happiness he can bring to others, but of course you are the one he wants to spend this day with most. With every bouquet he delivers, his mind wanders to you, imagining your reaction when he finally gets to deliver his gift.
He asks you to meet him at an ice cream parlor when his shift is done, around noon. Before you even see him, Brooke Rose flies over to tuck a thornless rose behind your ear, and you turn to find Eli already waiting at a table.
He gives you a small homemade cake and a letter he won't let you read until he's gone. He's a pretty sappy guy even in person, so you aren't sure how his letter will be much different. But having something to be excited about, even after you have to say goodbye, makes it worth it.
His bike rides have left very familiar with all the best spots around town. After splitting ice cream, he takes you for a ride to all the little places he thinks you'll love. A flower meadow, a bridge with a superstition attached: if you whisper the name of your love while crossing it, you'll be bound for life. Part of you suspects he made that up, but the way he says your name over and over makes your heart skip a beat.
Once the sun goes down, he brings you to a forest. Somehow he manages to time it just right. He gestures for you to stay very quiet, gently takes your hands, and suddenly you're encircled by hundreds of fireflies.
♡ Michiko
Since losing her ex-husband, Valentine's Day has become a bitter thing for Michiko, especially since it's so close to their anniversary. She has treated it as a day of mourning for some years. Of course, she keeps up a smile for you ― it's not in her character to impose her struggles on others.
The morning goes by slowly and comfortably. You wake up to a gentle massage and the smell of fresh baked pastries. She writes you a sweet letter in her neat script, and she adorns her letter with pressed flowers & a mini bouquet of your favorite candy.
She makes sure to get you a proper gift, too. She follows a rule of getting 1 indulgent and 1 practical thing: a box of luxury chocolates alongside a fine new coat.
Her ideal date would be something intimate and relaxing. Maybe the theatre, in a box reserved for two, or a shaded flower garden where you can enjoy a cup of tea.
#identity v#idv imagines#idv x reader#identity v x reader#idv bloody queen#naib subedar x reader#bloody queen x reader#mary x reader#norton campbell x reader#norton campbell#fools gold#fools gold x reader#eli clark x reader#eli clark#idv seer#seer x reader#idv geisha#idv michiko#michiko x reader#geisha x reader#idv percy#percy x reader#undead x reader#philippe x reader#wax artist x reader#naib subedar#mercenary x reader
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trying new things
A series about couple exploring in things in bed together.
All of these will be 18+ stories with smut each story will have there own content warning. I’m writing for the five oldest boys and then possibly the rest of them. If you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.
bang chan
champagne & wax
↳ a romantic night filled with champagne and wax play.
seo changbin
silk & desperation
↳ you trust him enough to let him blindfold you and to push you over the edge.
lee minho
roses & restraints
↳ tied to the bed you can’t help but beg for more.
status: coming soon in the next few days.
hwang hyunjin
ice & butterfly kisses
↳ the intoxicating look on his face as you drag the ice along his skin.
han jisung
peaches & whiskey
↳ you trust him like you’ve never trust anyone before, and you finally let him have you in ways you’ve only dreamed about. Before him you never thought you be dreaming about trying anal.
#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#bang chan smut#Changbin smut#Lee know smut#Hyunjin smut#han jisung smut#stray kids fanfic#bang chan x reader#Changbin x reader#Hyunjin x reader#Lee know x reader#han jisung x reader
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New Year's Day
Ellie Williams x Fem! Reader
summary: you and Ellie host your first ever New years Eve party, and as you both clean up the mess your friends had left in their wake.
Content Warnings: alcohol?, nothing really just fluff tbh.
(based on 'new years day' by Taylor Swift)
there's glitter on the floor after the party.
as your eyes flickered open, the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume immediately hitting you, immediately feeling regret of offering up yours an Ellie's shared apartment to host your friends annual New Year's Eve party.
"g'mornin' pretty girl" a rough voice rasped out, the feeling of your girlfriends hands brushing through your hair as you both slowly awoke from your slumber on the leather couch.
the sight of Ellie was amusing for sure. hair tussled and frizzy, your lipstick mark on her cheek and glitter speckled around her face from the cheesy sparkly 2024 glasses you had forced her into wearing.
"morning Ells."
girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby.
dinas arms wrapped around you in a goodbye, promising you to send the pictures of you and Ellie kissing under the fireworks that you watched on your balcony and thanked you for the cheap champagne and food.
you glanced over your shoulder to see Ellie talking to Jesse, who looked just as... worn out. soon her eyes focused back on you as the two approached you and Dina. Jesse's hand reaching for dinas, dinas free hand interlocking with Jesse's, her occupied one clutching her heels that she had given up on wearing a long time ago.
after bidding each other farewell Dina and Jessie left your apartment, Dina walking barefoot towards the elevator. a smile graced your lips, you'd been there too. who hasn't? dancing too much where heeld feet turn blistered and sore.
candle wax and polaroids on the hard floor, you and me from the night before, but
after the door closed and the last person left your messy apartment, Ellie's arms snaked around your waist, synchronised sighs leaving both of you as you looked around the post-party mess.
melted candles that used to be standing proud in cake now discarded on kitchen counter tops. an old Polaroid camera laying on the couch, pictures it produced scattered around like a treasure house.
there was one of the cake
the champagne
you and Ellie dancing
you sitting on Ellie's lap, head resting on her shoulder
your lips touching in a tender kiss while fireworks explode behind you.
don't read the last page, but I can stay when you're lost and I'm scared.
new year means new challenges and as Ellie's lips press softly against your temple, swaying side to side in eachother's embrace, moving to the sound of Ellie's humming a song you can't quite remember the name of, you know it'll be alright.
"I love you" you whisper softly.
"I love you too" comes the reply.
and your turning away, I want your midnights
you remember the fun from last night, the cheers of triumph after winning a stupid party game, the clinks of champagne flutes and the sensation of the bass of the music that shook the floor.
but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day
but now here you both are, kneeling on the hardwood floors as you pick up empty bottles of beer and discarded glasses of half drunken wine glasses and flutes of bubbly.
the smile on your face is beaming despite the thudding headache your hangover had so kindly given you. the warmth in your chest still blossoming. the boring clean up feeling just as special as the night of fun before.
you glance up as Ellie silently puts various items in a large trash bag, her eyes meeting yours. and just from the loving glint in them you knew so well, you could tell those feelings were reciprocated.
you squeeze my hand three times at the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's going to be a long road.
you think back to yesterday, your group of friends piling in the back of a taxi after you had partook in pre drinks at your all time favourite bar. and now you were all on the way back to the apartment you had so enthusiastically decorated with gold '2024 ballons' and gold tinsel.
Ellie's hand was wrapped in yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she squeezed three times, a gesture you knew too well.
three squeezes, three words.
i.
love.
you.
you squeezed back four times.
i.
love.
you.
too.
I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe or if you strike out and you're crawling home
2024 will be the fourth year you and Ellie have been together, four years. the road was bumpy, you both had the highest highs followed by the lowest of lows, but there was one thing that stayed constant. the warmth you felt when you looked at her, and the feeling of you heart growing more and more every word she spoke of endearment.
and Ellie felt it too, which was why a diamond encrusted ring was hidden in the back of the closet. this would be the year she popped the question.
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you. Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you. Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you
New year's day came and gone, polaroids now hung on the wall by the front door, a ring now adorning your finger. Dina was giggling through the phone as you jokingly scolded her for not telling you that Ellie was going to propose, that the girls spa day and manicure was all a ploy for good engagement pictures.
Ellie sat behind you on the couch after grabbing you both drinks from the kitchenette, pressing a kiss to your forehead and waving to Dina who waved back.
"oh God you should have seen it, Ellie, Joel, Jesse and me all huddled into the poor jewelers shop downtown- I'm honestly surprised we weren't kicked out." she laughed. "but I think it paid off- I mean, you're never going to be able to shake Ellie off now, she's going to hold onto you forever, I pity you." she joked which was swiftly replied by Ellie in a middle finger.
Please don't ever become a stranger, whose laugh I could recognize anywhere
Ellie's face was flushed and red, her soft hair falling in front of her face covering up the tears that stained her rosy freckled cheeks, your hands interlocked, both ring fingers dressed in golden rings.
"I now pronounce you wife and wife. you may kiss the bride."
the world seemed to slow, the congregation of guests vanishing as you both leaned in, lips meeting as the sound of muffled cheers hit your ears. you could feel the way ellies lips twisted into a smile as you kissed.
as soon as you pulled apart you heard the joyous laughter resonating from her chest as she offered you her hand, an offer you gladly took.
your footsteps land in sync as you walk back down the aisle.
3 squeezes, 3 words.
i.
love.
you.
4 squeezes, 4 words.
i.
love.
you.
too.
•••••••••••••••••••
A/N: I had to describe holding hands one too many times. anyways HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
NOT PROOFREAD
#the last of us#ellie williams#lesbian#wlw#ellie williams fic#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams fluff#happy new year#tlou 2#ellie tlou
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Beauty Diary
Chapter 2: Building A Maintenance Routine
Let’s girl talk about how to build a maintenance routine, how to schedule, when to book appointments + understanding medical esthetic procedures.
How to Build a Routine:
Understand yourself and your beauty needs/desires. Do you want to start getting manicures? Are there any skin concerns you want to address + treat? Any enhancements you want? Are you ready to start keeping up with your hair? Once these questions are answered you can start building a routine!
Know what services can be done at a salon or at home.
Research for the best salons and spas near you
Take note of what you learn about yourself from your appointments so you know how to keep up at home. Ex.) Your skin type, curl pattern, hair porosity, ingredients that work best for you + your skin undertone.
List out what services you want done, how often you want them done and what you’re looking to achieve after each service.
Set beauty goals and plan to save for special beauty services.
Facials:
Basic facials should be done every 4-6 weeks.
When it comes to medical spa procedures they should be done at least once a month!
Here’s a short list of my favorite medical spa treatments to gain an understanding of what they are and how they benefit you.
Hydrafacial: a non invasive procedure that combines cleansing, exfoliation, extraction, hydration and antioxidant protection by removing dead skin cells and impurities while simultaneously delivering moisturizing serums into the skin. (Skin type: ALL) should be done every 4-6 weeks.
Chemical Peel: a solution applied to the face to remove dead skin cells and stimulate the growth of new cells. (Skin type: ALL. Darker skin complexions can experience post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation) should be done once a month.
Microdermabrasion: a minimally abrasive instrument is used to gently sand your skin in order to remove the thicker, uneven outer portion of skin. Best for light scarring, discoloration, sun damage and stretch marks. (Skin type: Skin prone to acne scars, age spots, unevenness, discoloration and sun damage.) should be done very 4-8 weeks.
PRP aka Vampire Facial: a procedure that involves drawing the clients blood, spinning it and injecting it through microneedling to increase collagen, reduce fine lines/wrinkles, improve moisture retention and enhance skin tone + texture. (Skin type: typically ACNE PRONE SKIN) should be done every few weeks and maintenance sessions are done 2-4 times a year.
Hair Removal
There are many types of hair removal procedures to invest your time and money into. Waxing, sugaring, threading, laser hair removal and electrolysis. It’s best to go in for a hair removal service when your hair is the size of a grain of rice.
Waxing: every 2-5 weeks. face, underarms and bikini can be done every 2-3 weeks. hair length should be 1/4 of an inch.
Sugaring: every 2 weeks. hair length should be at least 1/8 of an inch.
Threading: every 2-3 weeks.
Laser Hair Removal: every 4-6 weeks done in about 4-6 treatment sessions. maintenance treatments can be done once every 6-12 months.
Electrolysis: every 2-4 weeks done in about 8-12 treatments. can take any where from 8 months, 12 months and 2 years to complete the treatment.
Cosmetic Injections
Cosmetic injections tend to be a yearly treatment routine. I recommend investing in packages in order to get more treatment sessions for a certain amount of money. They can also include a free treatment. Packages can be used for medical esthetic procedures such as laser hair removal packages, body contouring packages and tattoo removal packages as well.
Participating in Botox parties are also a good way to get a discount and purchase Botox packages. I used to assist hosting botox parties which included champagne, mimosas, cute desserts and discounts for clients if they brought a friend!
Botox: once every 4 months.
Lip Filler: once every 12-18 months.
Chin Filler: once every 1-5 years.
Non Surgical Rhinoplasty: once every 6 months.
Nails
During the summer time is when I go into the nail salon more often than usual to keep my nails and toes ready for the sunshine.
Gel Manicure: every 3-4 weeks between fills.
Gel Pedicure: 2 weeks to 1 month.
Acrylic Nail Set: filled every 2-3 weeks. every 8 weeks to replace fake nails.
Hair
Your hair should be healthy and kept in good maintenance by using an effective salon routine.
Hair Color: every 4-6 weeks between each hair coloring session.
Haircut: every 6-8 weeks or every 3-4 months.
Extensions: glue and tape extensions every 4-8 weeks, sew-in extensions every 6-8 weeks and micro-link extensions every 2-3 months.
Wig Installations: every 1-6 weeks.
Other
Lash Extensions: every 2-3 weeks.
Lash Lift: every 6-8 weeks.
Lash Tinting: every 4-6 weeks.
Bow Tinting: every 4 weeks.
Brow Lamination: every 4-6 weeks.
Microblading: touch ups 1 or 2 times a year.
Appointment Layout:
Week 1: hydrafacial & extraction session.
Week 2: eyebrow wax & tint.
Week 3: hair cut & color.
PSA:
How often you get any procedures done depends on you, your budget, your skin, your hair, your nails, your stylist, your esthetician or your health care provider. Please build a beauty routine that fits you and your life style the best!
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Forbidden Desire (Part Twelve)
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)
Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut
Please comment and engage xx 😘
The dimly lit room echoed with the faint laughter of the guests as they gathered around the grand dining table, sipping glasses of fine wine and indulging in a variety of delectable culinary delights. In this opulent setting, the air hung heavy with the intoxicating scents of exotic flowers, candle wax, and subtle perfumes. Amidst this decadence, you stood tall, sipping your champagne as if nothing had happened, even following the incident with your Uncle Tommy, which was no more than a mere kiss.
But it left an indelible mark on your psyche, reminding you of the inevitable truth - you could not escape the allure of this man, Thomas Shelby, your flesh, and blood. And yet, you were determined not to let him ruin your life.
As such, with your uncle and father having disappeared from the crowd again to attend some business, you took your chances and approached a handsome-looking stranger who was standing in the corner, sipping on a glass of whiskey.
You had not seen him before, not until tonight at least, but, for some reason, had a magnetic familiarity towards you.
"We have not met before," you said after having approached him with confidence. His deep grey eyes seemed to penetrate through your soul, causing a shiver down your spine.
"No, we haven't," he replied softly, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "My name is Liam O'Connor," he told you while shaking your hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shelby," he spoke, and there was something about his strong, calloused grip that sent a wave of heat coursing through your body.
"Likewise," you replied while thinking about your name again, just as you did every day since leaving your old life behind. The Shelby name still sounded somewhat unfamiliar to you, but you had accepted it following your initiation into the family a couple of weeks ago.
"So, who are you to the Shelby Family?" you then wanted to know, trying to make conversation as you both continued to sip your drinks.
"Well, let's just say that I'm good with bets and I have been told that there was an opening for..." he began to say, causing you to interrupt.
"So, you are a Blinder?" you asked, slightly surprised and with a hint of disappointment in your voice, knowing that both Arthur and Tommy would have control over him.
"I am a blinder, yes. I work for your uncle," Liam informed you calmly, making sure to maintain eye contact. It was clear that you did not approve of his connection to your family, but the attraction between you two seemed undeniable. As you took another sip of your drink, your gaze lingered on his strong jawline and full lips.
Aware of your scrutiny, Liam decided to change the subject. "So, what about you?" he asked, hoping to shift the focus back onto you.
"What about me?" you asked, and your eyes glinted with mischief as you replied, "Well, you see, my uncle tells me to stay away from certain illegalities that could involve physical conflict. According to him, we don't do the dirty work anymore. He pays men like you to do this for us. So, let's just say that I work in accounts and distributions," you explained, and the air became charged with a mixture of tension and excitement as the two of you continued to exchange glances.
Liam's gaze drifted from your face down to your cleavage, lingering for a moment too long. His cheeks reddened as he looked away, breaking the eye contact.
"You seem to disapprove?” Liam pointed out, and, of course, you did.
“Occasionally, yes,” you admitted, and, immediately, Liam took your uncle’s side.
“Your uncle is a smart man. The Shelby name attracts many enemies and for a Shelby to be involved in physical conflicts themselves could put a strain on your family’s reputation," Liam acknowledged. "Although, I doubt that Tommy's sporting days are over just yet. He enjoys it too much," he then laughed lightly, showing off his straight white teeth.
"No doubt he does, but let's not talk about my uncle anymore, shall we?" you requested, and Liam could sense that there was more to your relationship with Tommy than met the eye, but he respected your wish to remain aloof.
As if sensing the underlying tension between you two, the music suddenly stopped, and the guests started to disperse. The room fell quiet, leaving only the faint sounds of the dying fire and the whispering voices of those who remained behind.
A sense of anticipation filled the air, palpable as a tangible presence among the guests. In the corner where you and Liam stood, the two of you were suddenly aware of how close you were to one another.
Liam broke the silence first, speaking in a low tone that reverberated throughout your core. "May I escort you outside? he asked.
"It seems like the night air might be invigorating," Liam suggested in a warm, persuasive tone. Grateful for the opportunity to break free from the intensity of the moment, you nodded in agreement.
Eventually, you both made your way toward the French doors that led out to the garden. As you stepped outside, a cool breeze swept through the air, carrying with it the fragrance of newly bloomed roses and freshly cut grass. The sky above was a canvas of stars twinkling brightly against the inky black background.
As you both strolled along the serpentine pathway, Liam offered you his arm for support, which you gratefully accepted. The rustling leaves beneath your feet crunched underfoot, creating a natural symphony alongside the soft crooning of nighttime creatures. "Do you come here often? To Arrow House?" Liam inquired, seeking to learn more about you.
"Not anymore, no," you confessed, feeling surprisingly comfortable in his company.
"And before?" Liam wanted to know, but, of course, you could not tell him the truth which was that, in the past, you had slept with Tommy, before you knew that he was your uncle.
That secret was something you had hidden from everyone except Polly, who already knew, so you chose to answer Liam vaguely.
"Before, yes, I used to visit Arrow House quite frequently," you told him, hoping that he wouldn't pry further and wanting to avoid any unnecessary revelations about your past affairs with Tommy.
In response, Liam changed the topic, telling you about his early days when he joined the Peaky Blinders last year. He was stationed in Camden Town, working with Alfie Solomons before looking to engage in more race and betting-related matters, thus requesting what some might call a transfer.
He shared stories of Tommy and Arthur, some of which were humorous and none of which were troublesome or gruesome in any way. He clearly avoided telling you about those for your sake.
When talking to him about his work, it became clear to you that Liam enjoyed this kind of life, and as you listened intently, you found yourself growing more attracted to him, drawn by his charm. You realised that, despite your tumultuous past with Tommy, you may find solace in someone else.
Sensing the growing intimacy between you both, Liam gently guided you towards a secluded bench near the edge of the garden.
Under the moonlit sky, he sat beside you, taking your hand in his and brushing his thumb across your knuckles, which caused you to pull away.
His face registered a mix of confusion and disappointment, but you could not bring yourself to explain why. Instead, you cleared your throat and spoke up, "So, how long have you known the family?"
"Tommy and I go way back. I fixed some races for him when he first opened the gambling den but then I served time and tried to become clean; give up this life, you know," Liam explained with some hesitation, wondering whether you would be upset by what he had just said.
"And here you are, huh? Working for my uncle," you teased playfully, trying to regain the intimate atmosphere between you two.
"Yes. He pays well and I soon realised that an ordinary life is not for me," Liam said with a grin, clearly pleased with his decision to join the Peaky Blinders. You noticed that his hand was still holding yours, and you felt a surge of electricity run through your body at his touch. "I can't say I regret it," he added, a gleam in his eye suggesting he knew precisely what you were thinking.
The air between you both thickened, the tension becoming almost palpable. Unable to resist the powerful draw you felt towards him, you allowed your hand to relax within his grasp, allowing his fingers to intertwine with yours for a short moment before abruptly pulling away and standing up.
Liam, confused by your sudden change of heart, followed suit.
"Would you like to go out with me tomorrow evening?" Liam then asked, his eyes sparkling with hopefulness.
"You know that wouldn't be wise," you cautioned him, knowing that your newfound family's rules were strict and unforgiving.
"Why not?" Liam questioned, intrigued by your suggestion that they could not publicly date.
"Because," you paused, searching for the right words to express your concern. "I am a Shelby. Arthur is my father. Tommy is my uncle. And they would not approve," you pointed out, making sure he understood the situation.
"But I don't care about what they think," Liam retorted passionately, his eyes burning with determination.
"You should, Liam. You know very well how dangerous they are. You worked with them and, by what I gather, you probably killed for them too," you warned him, recalling the numerous incidents of violence within the family.
"There's no need to worry. We can meet in secret until the time is right. Your family may be more accepting than you think," Liam reassured you, reaching out to take your hand once again. This time, you allowed him to hold onto it without resistance, unable to deny the alluring pull you felt towards him.
Then, without warning, Liam leaned forward and captured your lips with his own, sending shivers down your spine until you pulled away once again.
"Okay. Let’s go out. You can take me to the pictures,” you said, a wicked smile curving upward at the corners of your mouth.
"The pictures? Won’t they notice?" Liam wondered aloud, genuinely concerned about the possible consequences.
"I will handle them," you assured him confidently, taking a step closer to him. "Just trust me. We will have the picture theatre to ourselves. I have some experience in hiding things, and I am a Shelby after all, so people generally do what I tell them to do," you chuckled light-heartedly, attempting to ease his concerns.
As your eyes locked, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down upon you both. Neither one of you moved nor uttered a word, letting the silence speak volumes. It was during these precious moments of stillness that Liam found himself even more captivated by you, admiring your confidence and intelligence.
"I must admit, I have been having my eye on you for the past three weeks, but you never noticed me until tonight," Liam told you, and again, you could not admit to the truth as, just an hour ago, you kissed your uncle Tommy who walked out on you and reminded you of your place. It was heart shattering, and it was only in the moment of this heartache that you began to notice someone else amongst the many guests at Arrow House.
Now, your attention shifted towards the man named Liam O'Connor, who, despite being a Peaky Blinder, seemed to possess a gentleness that contradicted the image typically associated with the gang. His dark hair, deep-set eyes, and lean build caught your gaze, and a sudden heat rushed through your veins as your eyes locked with his. Liam had seen you looking at him, his brow furrowing slightly in curiosity, causing your cheeks to flush.
You were unsure of how to proceed, so you took a deep breath and began speaking, your voice trembling slightly. "I want you to know, Liam, that I find you incredibly attractive and the fact that I had not noticed you before had nothing to do with you. There is someone else I have been in love with. Someone who broke my heart and I am still trying to come to terms with it" Your voice was filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, making Liam's heart race.
"Well, perhaps I can help you get over this man who, clearly, does not deserve you,” Liam told you gently in response, offering comfort and understanding.
"Maybe you can," you admitted softly, giving in to the temptation that had been brewing between you both since the moment you first laid eyes on each other.
"Come home with me, Y/N," Liam whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "Let me show you how much better you deserve,” he suggested, moving fast.
Your resolve wavered as you considered his proposition, weighing the risks and rewards of indulging in a forbidden affair. The darkness of the night swirled around you, creating an intoxicating atmosphere ripe for adventure.
"I am not ready for that, and I am most certainly not a one-night kind of girl," you told Liam firmly, but with a hint of uncertainty lingering in your tone. "However, I would appreciate it if we could continue to explore our connection further, on our date. What do you think?” you wanted to know.
"Yes, of course," Liam agreed, his eyes burning with desire. "I will be patient for you," he then winked, hoping that this would get him both wealth and power.
Unbeknownst to you, you were a pawn in Liam’s game. He sought an in, wanting to become part of the Shelby Family, and you happened to be his ticket to the lucky draw. Your relationship with Tommy had always been strained due to your blood relation, but now, as you stood there, feeling the warmth of Liam's touch, something inside you ignited. His presence was comforting, like a gentle breeze amidst a storm.
As such, Liam had exactly where he wanted you. You were smitten by him and, if he could make you his, then perhaps he could become as well known and wealthy as he wanted to be.
#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x you#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby au#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfiction#peaky blinders au#peaky blinder#peaky blinders fanfiction
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We're here, we're queer, and we cannot be legislated out of existence 🏳🌈✨
The Luminis Candle Co 2023 Pride Collection is being released on June 1 at 12:00 pm (Pacific time), and you can find it all on www.luminiscandleco.com!!!! This year's Pride candle lineup includes 8 scents, 7 of which are brand new!
Scent information and additional details under the cut!
Nonbinary: This is the only one that's the same as last year: a lovely aromatic blend featuring gentle English lavender top notes, a heart of sweet Meyer lemon, and a base of vanilla and tonka bean.
Pansexual: A playful blend with aldehydic top notes of bergamot, sweet orange, and apple, unfolding into heart notes of rich honey nectar and toffee. White musk forms a gentle base.
Polyamorous: Fresh and clean with citrus and mint top notes. A heart of lavender, green accord, and sandalwood blends into a soothing base of cedarwood, amber, and musk.
Lesbian: An effervescent, feminine blend that opens with sweet apple, raspberry, and sparkling champagne. Lily, jasmine, and peach heart notes follow, supported by coconut and sugar base notes.
Asexual: Herbal and aromatic. Top notes of lemon and cyclamen give way to a heart of sage, lavender, rosemary, and thyme. Base notes of eucalyptus leaf and green musk tie the blend together.
LGBTQ+/Rainbow: Oceanic but not overwhelming, this scent begins with marine and green accords, followed by herbaceous notes, dry woods, and a strong note of sea salt. Leather, cedarwood, and smooth black pepper form a lingering base.
Transgender: A sweet, blush blend. Raspberry and mandarin top notes blend seamlessly into a heart of rose, lychee, and red currant, which in turn lead to a captivating base of oud, benzoin, and sheer musk.
Bisexual: Sweet with a little spice, this striking blend starts with ozone and chili pepper, mellowed out by a heart of mandarin, guava, and orange. Coconut and peppercorn round out the scent.
All candles are decorated with eco-friendly glitter made from sustainably and ethically sourced plant material that biodegrades in a wastewater environment. Testing was conducted to ensure that eco-glitter won't cause a severe fire hazard the way dried botanicals do, and while my own testing showed that they don't cause fireballs or anything, if your glitter gets too close to the wick, I recommend gently brushing it away before lighting, just to be safe!
Each candle costs $35 and the wax weight of each is approximately 6 ounces!
#handmade candles#candles#pride#pride2023#pride 2023#pride month#lgbt pride#lgbtq pride#trans pride#ace pride#asexual pride#nonbinary pride#lesbian pride#polyamorous pride#pansexual pride#bisexual pride#bi pride#queer business
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2024 is:
Regular facials, manis, pedis, massages, Brazilian waxes, lash lifts. Glowing skin. Glowy makeup. Fluffy curls. Microshaded brows. Laser hair removal. Perfect Rx Skincare. Veneers. Intoxicating perfumes. Shopping. Diamonds. Designer bags. Credit card rewards. International travel. Networking. Career certifications. Investing more. Brunch with the girls. Picnics. Farmers markets. Art galleries. Museums. Fresh flowers. Silk scarves. Big sunglasses. Beautiful lingerie. Silk robes. Receiving lots of gifts. Lots of sunlight. Hot yoga. Nature hikes. Tennis lessons. Green smoothies. Candles that smell expensive. Sleeping 8+ hours a night. Bubble baths. Studying foreign languages. Absorbing as much knowledge as I can. Book clubs. Pottery classes. Cooking with fresh herbs, vegetables, and spice. Champagne. Charcuterie & bruschetta. Gelato. Fresh bread. Ocean air. Hugging my loved ones. Pet cat. Giving lots of gifts. Journaling. Meditating. Gratitude. Volunteering. Donating to charity. Manners. Etiquette. Charisma. Therapy. Healthy boundaries. Radical personal responsibility. Positivity. Self care. Abundant love.
#aesthetic#luxury#dream life#black girls in luxury#black women in luxury#dream girl#moodboard#manifest#manifestation#that girl#my aesthetic#my uploads#kenya denise#kenyadenise#soft life#soft girl#luxury lifestyle#level up lifestyle#level up#rich aesthetic#rich black women#rich living#rich lifestyle#law of attraction#black girl self care#selfcare#perfect rx skincare
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