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am-i-interrupting · 2 months

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Affection | Vox x Fem!Reader

Summary: Vox and Valentino get into it. Vox looks for a way to get payback and stumbles upon you. He didn’t expect you to actually care.

Warnings: sex work, a bit of a mommy kink

He was used to the petty yelling, the constant spats, even the object throwing. What crossed the line was when he had to replace his screen.

Vox and Valentino got into a lot of arguments, normally started by the latter instead of the former. This one was bad though. Vox didn’t even want to think about it but it was all that was on his mind.

He was angry.

He was angry because it was easier to be angry rather than something else, something more vulnerable. He didn’t want to and couldn’t afford to be vulnerable right now. He had to hold onto this anger so he didn’t go crawling back to Valentino.

Currently, he was at his desk, looking through documents about ads that were just waiting for Vox’s stamp of approval. He stumbled upon yours and he paused.

He recognized you. Why?

He copied your name into a search bar and looked at your Sinstagram profile. Flipping through the pictures, he found one of you at a bar and that’s when he remembered.

Valentino tried to contract you and you’d basically laughed at him. You’d tossed back a shot and then turned to Valentino, asking if he needed you to pay for it since he was clearly so desperate for new recruits as he was only preying on people too stupidly drunk to realize how bad of an idea it was to say yes. Oh, he remembered Valentino seething that night.

He approved your ad but he couldn’t get you out of his head. He opened the closed tag again as he actually read through your ad.

You were advertising music. Which, when say side by side with your Sinstagram made sense as he saw a picture of you with Verosika Mayday. There wasn’t really anything interesting on the advert.

He scrolled up to the top of your Sinstagram in order to look at them in order from most to least relevant. That is when he caught sight of a link in your bio. He clicked it.

He was brought to a website. He wasn’t sure what he expected but he did raise an eyebrow nonetheless. It was an escort sight. A home page that had you and several other people scantily dressed with a description of what every person and the services you offered.

Maybe he was being more vindictive than he thought because he immediately clicked on the tab that sent him to your page and booked a time with you.

It was far out, months away in fact. He honestly had forgotten about it until he got an email the week before asking if he was still available and inviting him to a pre-session consultation. Not willing to back out and have it potentially mess with his image, he made the time.

He logged into a video call several days later and was greeted with you in the middle of putting on your makeup.

“Well, hello, Mr. Vox,” you said with a soft purr. He replied with a formal greeting of your name. “You’re a busy guy and I’m a busy gal so I’ll keep this quick. This is just a little meeting for boundaries. I know it bothers some people to make them in person so I’ve found this to be an easier way.

“I’ll go first. No hickies, no bruises, no scratches, no cuts, no burns, just no marks. It might be pretty and fun in the moment but it costs me later. Not everyone enjoys having sex with someone who’s clearly had it with someone else not long before. It may be part of my work but people do like an illusion.

“I don’t do bondage where I’m the one tied up. It’s nothing personal, just a safety issue. On the topic of safety, if you bring in anything that could be used as a weapon. I’m done and you’re leaving. All I need from you is that pretty little body of yours and payment. I’ll provide the rest.

“On the topic of payment, I know you’ve already made your upfront payments for this little consultation. The rest can be brought when you come in cash. Any questions so far?”

He surprised himself by saying, “Not so far, no.”

You we’re far more thorough than he thought. He’d bought time before but it was never this professionally done, even by Valentino’s standards. Granted, with Valentino’s sex workers, there was really only one rule, payment upfront. He didn’t give a fuck about anything else.

You though? You had clearly given this a lot of thought on all parts.

“Good, I’m glad,” you said. “Those are my hard rules. Everything else is a little more flexible. So, tell me, what is it you want from tonight?”

“To have a good time.”

“Of course, we all want to have a good time, Vox, but I’m talking specifics. Don’t be naive,” you said. “I have full confidence you know better. Maybe it’d be easier if I told you what I’m best at.”

The lid of your lipstick clicked closed. You looked at the camera, looking at him directly on his screen by proxy, for the first time.

“I can do just about anything your cold, dead heart desires but I enjoy specific things more than others. I’m a bit of a dominatrix, I’d you will. I enjoy the power and control of giving people what they need instead of what they want. How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds to me like a very overlord thing to do,” he replied.

“Not there yet,” you said. “So, is that the role you prefer to play?”

“It’s one I play often.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that but do you prefer it?”

Vox didn’t know why he didn’t just say yes. He should have. It went with his image to say yes and that’s why he was still agreeing to do this even though he and Valentino weren’t on the worst of terms right now.

He hadn’t crawled back to Valentino yet. It��d been one of their longer spells away from one another. Five months without even falling back into bed once.

Perhaps that’s why he said what he said. He was pent up. He hadn’t had time to unwind and the person he normally would go to for that he was still upset with. That’s the reason he’d go with anyway.

“It’s the role I play most often,” he said.

“But is it the role you like?” you asked. When he didn’t answer you smiled, a more genuine one than any flirty or sarcastic one you’d shot his way before. “Stubborn, I’ll keep that noted.”

“I am not—“

“You’re proving my point. Now,” you stood up and rummaged through a drawer he couldn’t see, “pick a set for me.”

For the next several hours, Vox felt like he couldn’t focus. He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been nervous over a one night stand.

He left early, leaving his assistant with double the workload but he didn’t care. He just needed to be out of the building.

He took Vark out on a walk to pass time but it still went by so slowly. It took what felt like days for it to finally be time to leave.

He’d call it considerate that he left without his usual suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie but in reality, he felt so hot, constricted with them on.

He traveled through the cameras and arrived at the address he’d been given, not a single person having seen him.

He knocked on the door and that sense of security was promptly shattered when it opened and he heard someone say, “Holy shit!” in response to seeing him.

He glared at the offending person as he stepped in. He recognized them from being pictured on your website. They quickly spun around and continued doing whatever it was they were in the process of.

He was led to a room which when opened revealed you inside. You were wearing a shear robe that gave him a peak at what was hiding underneath.

“I was promised secrecy,” he said. “Not to be gawked at by the employees.”

“So you don’t want to be gawked at me?” you asked. You smiled at your own joke. “Everyone here is under contracted lock and key to not say a single word about what goes on inside these walls. You’re image will be fine.”

“Contracted?”

“You said I had the makings of an overlord,” you replied. “Why are you suddenly surprised that I have contracts? Don’t worry, I assure you they’re much more ethically sourced than your co-worker’s.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of,” you said as you took several steps towards him, “why are you here? I’d imagine you could have any of Valentino’s contracted cash free. Why waste it on me? I’m not exactly cheap.”

You held out your hand and he reached into a pocket to retrieve the other part of your payment. You swiftly began counting it.

“You fuck one of Valentino’s pets, you’ve fucked them all,” he said. “They’re all too scared to be any fun after a while.”

“As much as I know that’s a true statement—“ you put the cash in a drawer of the bedside table— “I don’t believe it.”

He felt his eye twitch. “And what exactly would you—“

“Why don’t you take off your shirt and lay on the bed?” You walked towards him and ran your hands up his torso. “Or I could take it off for you.”

You began unbuttoning his shirt and for some reason, it made him drop all his irritation. When you finished, you bent down and licked all the way up his torso. You kissed and nipped at his collar bone.

His hands went to your sides but you spatted them away. The shirt fell to the ground.

You looked up at him, like you were daring him to kiss you. However, when he went to do just that, you stepped away.

“On the bed face down, mister,” you told him.

He huffed. Despite his mind telling him to grab you and pull you in for a kiss, take you and remind you of who exactly you were messing with, his body followed your instructions.

The mattress dipped as you straddled him. Something popped open (he tensed), a bottle clinked as it was set on the table, and then the sound of you rubbing your hands together went through the air.

Your hands, warm against his skin and slick with oil, began to rub up and down his back.

“Why are you here, Vox?” you asked. “I’m not stupid. I keep up with the news. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that the day you made an appointment was the same day you updated your status to single again? It’s still single now so what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he said.

“Uh-huh, and the fact that you visibly tensed as soon as I mentioned Valentino is just a coincidence,” you said. “Everything you say in these walls stays within them.”

“You’re the one who made the contracts,” he said. “You’re not under them.”

“True, but—“

You began to apply pressure with your thumb, grinding your thumb and hand in circles along his back.

“Oh, fuck.”

“—I also made them,” you said, basically repeating his words. “It means I place value in confidentiality.”

“Or covering you’re own— oh, fuck, right there— your own ass.”

“I could be.”

You leaned down and he felt toy trap his entire torso beneath you. He liked the feeling. He liked the feeling of you over him.

You got close to his face, “But I think we both know I’m not.” You moved back and he mourned the feeling as soon as it was gone. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re just very obviously tense and not just physically.”

You punctuated your sentence by rolling the palm of your hand at the base of his neck before squeezing it lightly. He couldn’t hold back a moan at the feeling of some tension leaving his body.

You continued on like that in silence for a while. You were working out the knots in his muscles and he was basically putty beneath your hands.

He’d never been treated like this before. He had couldn’t remember the last time he felt loose. There was always some kind of feeling of unease he constantly carried.

He didn’t even know he needed this because he’d never known that he could have it.

You leaned to once again lay over him but this time he could feel the entire weight of your body instead of just your warmth. You wrapped your arms underneath his shoulders and placed a kiss to his neck.

“Are you alright to continue?” you asked him as you nuzzled against his shoulder blade.

“I—“ He tried to search for some witty or snarky remark to make but all he could come up with was, “Yes.”

You cooed at him and slipped your hands out from underneath him to rub his back as you got off him. “Using your words, what a good boy,” you said and he hated, hated how that made him feel so warm inside. “Can you turn around for me? Yes, good.”

He closed his eyes and refused to look at you. You laughed but it didn’t feel mean. That didn’t make him feel any less embarrassed, however.

You did a wider, full handed version of the back massage you’d given him to his front as you began to roll your hips against his. He couldn’t hold back a whine.

“Oh, so pretty,” you said. “Such pretty noises from such a pretty boy.”

“Fuck,” it came out weak and pathetic.

Well, it was fitting then because that’s how he felt, weak and pathetic. Such simply praise shouldn’t be so effective.

“How does that feel?” you asked. “Come on, be a good boy. Tell me. Tell me how to make you feel good, baby.”

You were kissing on his neck and shoulders now.

“Good,” he choked out.

You hummed against his skin.

He could feel his fingers flex. His arms moved. He stopped them. He wanted to touch. He should be able to touch. He should be able to do what he wanted. He was the fucking Vox, overlord and creator of the biggest tech company in Hell. He shouldn’t need permission to do something.

You grabbed his hands and brought them up to the knot of your robe.

“You can touch me, baby,” you told him.

A whine forced its way out of his throat no matter how much he tried to keep it at bay.

He opened his eyes and you were so beautiful, grinding against him like you were made to. He could feel his cock straining against his pants. He wanted them off.

He settled for untying your robe. It fell to reveal the deep blue set he’d chosen for you earlier that day. It was sheer enough to show off your nipples through the cross crossed pattern of the bra. There was a silver chain that draped between the cups and further framed your breasts. Some traps went around your torso as part of the garter belt which held up your similarly colored stockings. You looked gorgeous.

You laughed and guided his hands up to your waist. Then up to your tits.

“I love the way you keeping whining for me,” you said. “You’re like a little pup.” Your eyes honed on his neck and your hand followed your gaze. You pressed on his neck, just enough to add some pressure. “That neck of yours looks like it was made to be collared and leashed.”

“Oh fuck.”

You leaned closer to his face. “Would you like that, baby?”

His fingers twitched around your breasts. He rubbed his thumbs over your clothes nipples as a silent apology. “Please.”

“Oh, such good manners.” You applied more pressure to his neck, not enough to cut off his air supply. He arched into your touch. “But not tonight. Some other time, I promise. I’ve got a feeling I’ll be seeing you plenty, baby.”

You went to nip at his neck. His hands wrapped around to your back to hold you in place. Your own traveled down his torso and to his belt.

You undid it. You pulled down his pants but not his underwear. You slipped from his grasp.

You put your hands on either side of his bulge and ran your fingers over it. His legs spread open further as he tried to push up but you quickly put an end to that little action.

Your hands on his hips, you hovered your head over him. You licked a stripe onto the fabric. You began to suck him off with the barrier of his boxers.

He knew he was whining. His eyes wanted to screw shut but he kept them open, too transfixed by the visage before him.

Your own eyes were closed. Your hands, perfectly constraining his boxers, were wrapped around his hips. The tips of your perfectly manicured hands were digging into his skin. Your tongue lulled out and lavished him.

He could cum from just this alone.

However, as soon as the thought came to him, you pulled away.

“No, no, no, please, please, let me come,” he said, words flowing from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Aw,” you said with a chuckle, “begging so soon? How sweet. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get to come soon. I’ve just got to see that little dick of yours first.”

The small bit of degradation mixed with all the praise made him twitch.

He’d never gotten any negative comments on his dick before. Rather the opposite, Valentino had tried several times before to talk him into at least faceless camera work but he didn’t want to think of the moth right now.

You pulled his underwear down to reveal his cock. It was length, a deep blue like the rest of him except were it was flushed vibrantly at the tip. He was already leaking pre-come. Milky white against his flesh.

You leaned over to lick it up. His eyes rolled back at the simple action.

Your smirked before you took him all your mouth at once. You slowly pulled up and let your teeth pull at the hood of his tip.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

He thrusted up into what was now just air as he twitched, his whole body convulsing but he didn’t come. He was on the verge though.

You shushed him as you stroked his inner thigh with your nails.

“Be a good boy for me and hand me the lube,” you said before you began sucking on the skin above his pelvic bone.

His hand went to your hair as he closed his eyes and moaned. It took him a moment to open them again but you didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t feel rushed.

When was the last time he hadn’t felt rushed while having sex? He couldn’t even remember. It was always about getting back to work as soon as possible or Valentino’s quick hits. It was never really about him. It was about getting rid of his boner or Valentino’s as soon as possible.

He liked this. He liked this feeling of. . . being cared for?

God, he was so fucking pathetic. He could feel tears filling his eyes as he reached for the lube on the bedside table.

“Are you alright, baby?” you asked. “Do you need to stop.”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Okay, we don’t have to stop. We can keep on going,” you said as you poured some lube into your hands. “You just keep on being a good boy for me, alright? You can cry if you need to, baby. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

That permission made it worse. He felt his face flush as tears began to stream down his face. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. He shouldn’t be crying. He’d rarely ever cried. Much less during sex, especially sex that he was enjoying.

“Can you bend your— oh, such a good boy,” you said.

You hooked his bent knees over your legs and pulled him into your lap.

You wrapped your hands, covered in warm lube (when was the last time someone had took the time to warm up lube before touching him?), around his cock and began slowly twisting your hands up and down. He couldn’t stop the weak thrusts.

“I’m sorry,” he said, repeating the phrase like a prayer.

“Shhhh, baby, it’s okay,” you told him, petting his thigh. “You take what you need. You’ve been so good for me. So good. You deserve it.”

“Fuck.”

He threw his head back against the pillow and then looked down at you. He immediately met your eyes, so soft and understanding. It made his stomach queazy.

He watched as his dick slowly was covered then revealed by your hand. It curved around him so perfectly, glistening with a mixture of lube and the pre-come he was leaking. You twisted your hand in just the right way.

You covered his cock and then revealed the head. You thumb lingered and smeared the pre-come at his tip. The point of your nail ever so gently grazed his hole and that’s what did it.

The lights flickered in the room as he spasmed and came. His screen went blank as he blacked out.

A few seconds later, he came to with you by his side with a glass. You tilted his head up and cupped your hand under his lips as you forced him to drink, any water that spilled was dropped in your hand.

You grabbed a cloth and wipes at his screen.

“Are you okay, baby? Was that good?” you asked and he could only mutely nod. “Good.”

You went to pull him into an embrace but stopped and looked down at your body. “Do you wanna clean me up or do you want me to do it?”

He followed your gaze and saw his come covering your torso, a bit of it even clinging to your bra. He leaned to lick it off you. You reclined onto the thrown of pillows and let him, stroking his shoulders and arms as he did.

He licked up to your bra and then was met with the rough contrast of the lace-like fabric compared to your smooth skin. He reached around and undid the bra. You let it fall and he licked where the come had been. Then he began sucking on your breasts.

“Oh, fuck,” this time it was you.

Spurred on, he reached down between your thighs and began stroking. You were wet, so fucking wet. His fingers slid through your folds with no hint of resistance.

He rolled your clit between two knuckles.

“Oh, so good for mommy,” you said as you continued petting him. “So good.”

He whined at both the praise and the title you had given yourself.

He began stroking you with a different purpose now. He needed you to come. He looked up at you, still sucking on your tit. He needed to see it.

Your breath quickened. Your pets turned into a tight hold. It was your turn to whine as your head rolled back and your mouth lulled open.

“So good! So good for me, baby, just like that,” you said right before you became incoherent. You groaned and moved up into his touch.

He went back to the tower feeling better than he could ever remember. The set you’d worn tucked into his pant pocket. You insisted, saying you had plenty of other sets. Who was he to refuse?

“Where the fuck have you been?” Velvette asked.

“Out,” he said as he walked passed her, in no mood for her screeching.

“For over two hours with your location turned off? You didn’t even answer your fucking phone,” Valentino said, voice raising to nearly as yell towards the end.

“Yes,” Vox said as he continued walking.

He heard Valentino laugh as he must have seen the lingerie set in his back pocket. “Were you really so busy fucking a hole that you couldn’t answer me? I hope they were good.”

“Better than you ever were,” Vox said before he closed his bedroom door, unwilling to let his lax mood be ruined.

A few months later, Vox was still going to see you. Absolutely hooked and you both knew it but so were you. You didn’t even made him pay but he still slipped money into your pocket or your bra so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he was getting attached.

That was all thrown out the window when you released a new song. He wasn’t even halfway through watching the music video before he disappeared and found you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss and you knew exactly why.

The imagery in the music video was obvious. Pink smoke trying to creep into your studio only to be blocked, a deep blue body, TV screens everywhere. Then there were the lyrics:

I can give my babe affection without any type of infliction

You were just an intermission but I’m the center of attention

I’ve got him collared and leashed right where he needs to be

He’s down on his knees begging me with please

Better than any of his fantasies

Yeah, I’ve got his attention without infliction

#for the song I’m thinking chrissy chlapecka vibes just FYI #hazbin vox x reader #vox x reader

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slut4satoru-blog · 10 months

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Parent-Teacher Conference—Toji Fushiguro-Zenin. +18 CONTENT MINORS DNI

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

a singledad!Toji fic to fill my empty heart. i’m a slut for toji and i hope you guys are too. making this a 3 part series! please enjoyyyyyyy. 💜

content warnings: f!reader, AFAB, tiny kabedon, height difference, healthy age gap (6 years), trying my best to keep body descriptions to a minimum, hickeys, sex toys, marking, jealousy, slight possessiveness, oral (f!receiving), tiddie sucking <3, fingering, edging, public use of sex toy, pet names, and whatever else might had slipped my mind.

word count: 2.2k

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It’s been a busy 2 weeks with the PT conference being tomorrow. I have 0 time for myself. There’s two places I’m always at, either at school teaching my students or at home grading and preparing student reports. The end of the 10 weeks is always a mess. At least I teach High School, and my kids are so good they help me with the stuff.

There’s always a few students from each class that volunteer to help organize and store papers and that has helped me for sure. Like whenever Nobara, Yuuji and Megumi from my 10th grade class stay after school every Tuesday to help me out. They really are the best and I 100% could not survive without them. Talking about the kids, Megumi is really special. I’ve literally taught him since middle school, and it’s kind of funny because when I first started teaching him he would accidentally call me “mom” sometimes, his cute little face always made me smile. I remember when his mother passed away and I attended the service, it was the first time I saw his dad.

Toji Fushiguro, what a sight to remember. He was one of those people I knew I would never forget about. Year after year, conference after conference Toji and I’s friendship grew closer. Of course, always formal since he is my student’s dad. But there’s always a part of me that dreams of it being more than just that. The way he would slightly touch my hand with his fingers, acting as if nothing happened. Whenever he says “Hello” and puts his hand on my waist as he brings me in for a hug. I swear, one time that man was as hard as a rock and he just acted so normally. His tall, muscular build haunted me in my dreams.

Every single night, I would dream about him ravaging me in different positions. The way he would eat me out, fuck me senseless. I would imagine how he could roughly handle me and just how good he would feel inside of me, leaving me clenching around my fingers as I tried to satiate the need for his cock. However, every single morning I had to remind myself that it would never change. At least that’s what I always thought.

I decided to get up 1 hour earlier and get myself ready. Since today we had no class and I wasn't going to deal with any cooking, I wouldn’t have to wear my go-to chef uniform. Rummaging through my clothes, I decided to wear a simple emerald green and black pants suit, along with some 2 inch closed platforms. Also, I took the opportunity to wear some makeup and style my hair since I rarely got the chance to do so in school.

Once I arrived at the Jujutsu Technical School campus I quickly went up to finish setting up my lab to greet the parents and guardians of my students. For each parent student teacher conference I would have the kids make something for their families so they could snack as they picked up the grades for the quarter and discuss some details with me. They all decided to make some cake pops and they looked adorable. Some are movie themed, others by colors and even by aesthetics. Kids these days, am I right? When I finished everything I decided to sit patiently at my desk and wait for all of the parents to arrive.

Not to my surprise, Toji arrived first. I could sense his presence even with me being against the door. His sultry, silky and sinful voice decided to greet me. “Hey there Ms. _____. It’s been too long since our last encounter.” I turned my seat around to face him, getting startled as he was way closer than I anticipated. His hand went for my arm, sliding one finger over my bare hands. “Hi Sir, it’s a pleasure to see you get here so early. As you know, Gumi’s sweets are at the left corner of the table. You can grab the cake pops he made you and Sumi this time. He worked really hard on them.”

He looked at the table, walked up to it and got his and Tsumiki’s bag and returned to my desk. He shoved the sweets in his pocket and plopped his hands to either side of my desk. Trapping me in to smell his fresh, clean cologne. “I was thinking of doing some experiments. What do you think? Megumi tells me about everything you guys do in this class. And, it gets me thinking. Are you as fun in bed as you are in the classroom? I’m sorry Ms. ____ but I know I’m not the only one that feels this tension.”

He stopped for a second, eyed me up and down. Taking one of his hands and moving it to my chin as he lifted it up to continue his sermon. “I‘ve seen the way you look at me. How your thighs clench whenever I tease you. I’m not blind you know? And you’re not hiding it now either.” He took his eyes off of mine and dragged them across my body. I could feel his intense stare burning through the fabric. Starting a fire in my core that would soon become too hot to control.

“Sir, this isn’t right… Anyone can come up now and see us like this. I work here, I don’t want to risk that for whatever my body feels like. I can deal with it later. This is wrong.” I tried to believe the words that came out of my mouth. We both knew i was lying about it not being right. We were both adults, he was only a few years older than me since he had Megumi at 16. We were only 6 years apart, so it wasn’t inmoral. However, there was something about this being too good to be true. I just couldn’t wrap my head around how things were happening.

“Can we try something? Please? I swear if you say no I won’t bother you after this.” He opened his black suitcase that he always brought to store all the papers us teachers would bring to the parents. Once it was open, he pulled out a weirdly shaped pink toy. I’ve seen this before, it’s called a love sense. He saw the way my eyes lit up to the toy and asked. “I figure you’re familiar with this, right? I promise I’ll behave if you’re a good girl.”

I stood up and walked up to the door. Looking at the empty hallways since the pt conference was 30 minutes away. “Am i really about to do this…?” I whispered to myself as I closed my lab’s room and locked it. I went to Toji, sat on top of my desk and responded. “I’ll allow this… experiment. But you have to promise not to go too far. This is my job, and I’m not willing to lose it because I moaned while talking about bread.” He laughed at my remarks and sighed beautifully, standing between my legs and wrapping me in his arms. I could feel his cinnamony breath near my lips as he spoke. “Don’t worry darling, this thing is nothing compared to what I want to do to you. Consider this preparation for what comes next.”

Without saying more, he leaned in to kiss me almost as if he was afraid of ruining whatever it is that we had these past years. His hands diligently went under my satin shirt, taking it out of the pants to grope my tits. “They’re so soft, I could drown here.” He whispered in your ears as he lifted the shirt up completely to suck on them, leaving cute little markings all along them. “Just wait till you see my ass.” I playfully dared him, ruffling one of my hands through his soft, black hair as i left one of my hands on the desk for support. Throwing my head back as he sucked my nipples with such expertise. It really felt like he was french kissing me there.

“Oh, please don’t stop. This feels so good.” I whined at him as I started feeling new sensations, I had never before felt so sensitive on my breasts. Maybe because of my lack of sex partners. It had been such a bad experience with none of my other flings getting me to orgasm. So frustrating I ended up stopping all together. I could feel his grin across my nipple as he slowly popped it as he let it go. “Time to see that ass babe, can’t wait any longer.”

He flipped me skillfully, carefully pulling down my pants & lingerie that I wore that day. “All wet for me baby? So nice and plump; you keep wrapping me up in your little finger, huh?” He took one of his hands and teasingly slid it across my slit. I shuddered; his cold, big fingers clashing against my hot plump core. He started to play with my arousal, slipping it up and down. Occasionally grazing above my clit as to piss me off. “Toji, please. We have 15 minutes until the parents arrive. Just fuck me already.”

“Fuck you? Oh no baby girl, you’ve got it all wrong. You see…” He stopped talking for a second, and I groaned when I felt his mouth on my clit. Skillfully eating me out like he had 1,000 years of experience. “My plan isn’t to fuck you now.” He planted another kiss on my cunt, tongue skimming all through my folds. “We‘ll talk about that later. ‘Kay sweetheart?”. With that he stopped, removing himself from my needy core and slipped the toy inside of me, filling me up instantly as a moan slipped through my teeth.

“Remember, this is connected to my phone. You better act nice if you want me to be nice.” He grinned like a man-whore and I enjoyed every single of it. He licked my thighs to “clean-up after himself” and then wiped it dry with some tissue I had laying around. After that, he walked to the chair in the back and waited for the classroom/lab to fill up with more parents.

“Hello, thank you all for attending today’s PT Conference. I’m Ms. _____ and as you all probably know by now, I’m your kid’s Culinary Arts elective course teacher….” I roughly explained the next 2 big projects the kids had to make. And how the Culinary Arts elective course was partnering up with the Science program to form a “Food Science” exhibition for the upcoming science fair. It was all going good. Actually, too good. I would eye up Toji every now and then but he was never looking at me, just looking at his phone. Mysteriously the vibrator was off for all of my speech. I was kind of glad, I didn't want to trip on my words or embarrass myself. However, things started to take a turn when parents started to ask to see me after class.

When Mr. Nanami, Yuuji’s foster dad, asked to see me after class. That was the moment I felt the vibration instantly turn on. It was slow, steady motions that started to relieve the tension I had going on. I said my goodbyes to all the parents, and when my lab was almost empty, since Toji refused to leave, Mr. Nanami went up to me. “Hey Ms.____ I was wondering if i could ask you something about Yuuji’s grades. You see, he’s having some trouble with math and since I know this course involves a lot of that i was wondering if you would be willing to tutor him. I would be paying, of course. It could be over at our home or we could meet up at some place of your choosing.”

I gave him a tiny smile, he was always so observant over Yuuji. “Of course! We can work something out. He always works my math out easily, I imagine it’s because I try my best to break everything down before giving it to them. Thanks for your concern on Yuuji. He’s a bright kid, he’s in good hands.” I put my hand on top of his to give him security, and in that instant I felt how the vibrator just jumped in velocity. It was hard, inconsistent and just random and all over the place. I contained myself from yelping and decided to shift in my seat instead. When I looked over at Toji there he was, man-spreading in all of his glory swiping his phone in different directions as he looked intensely at how my hand rested in top of Nanami’s.

Nanami ended the conversation shortly, handing me his business card that contained his contact information so we could set up the meetings and left quickly, not forgetting to wave at Toji at the end of the room. Toji stood up, and waved him a tiny goodbye as he walked towards me. Long, slow steps making small clacks across the marbled floor. He looked at his phone once more and swiped up, leaving the vibrator at the highest speed as I tried to shush the moans that escaped my mouth. Eventually giving in as i sat in my comfy chair.

“I told you I would behave if you were a good girl. But you just had to make me jealous, didn’t you?”

Masterlist

part 2, part 3

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji thirst #toji x reader #toji smut #smut #jjk imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #f!reader #afab character

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riddles-fiddles · 10 months

Note

hello asdfgsjdldkl this is a half fluffy half spicy request, how would you feel about writing a fem/gn mc who is autistic, but here’s the twist (lol)—their special interest is kink/bdsm? maybe they’re a bit shy about it at first since it’s not exactly something you just TALK about but one day they somehow end up infodumping? with Lilia, Idia, Vil, and Malleus, if that’s okay? (bonus points for mc being a sub ghjkslahsksl) (also if you’re not sure about how to write an autistic mc that’s totally fine, thank you for your service /gen ajshsjskdkl)

I tried to write this based on how my ADHD brain works with my special interests, so I hope this isn't as terrible lol also since you didn't say which kinks you'd like to see, I kept them a little bit more on the generalized side. If you'd like something more specific you can request again. Anyways thank you kindly for this lovely request, I had lots of fun writing it /gen <3

Synopsis: the boys are very intriguided to know about your secret special interest~ Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge Tags: NSFW, smut with context, bondage play, master/servant, power play, spanking/impact play Notes: gender neutral reader (unspecified body parts), everyone is 18+, excuse any grammatical errors,,,

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Vil looks down on you with an amused expression as you moan and buck your hips up, searching for the friction you so desesperately need from his hands. You were pressed against the couch with your wrists firmly tied up on your back and your legs held apart by the leather belts, your dripping arousal entirely exposed and unable to wiggle too much, keeping you on the edge of your climax as you relied on Vil's painfully slow and light touches. It all started from one of Vil's fashion jobs. Being one of Twisted Wonderland's most beloved supermodels, he was offered to take a catwalk under the name of a high-end brand trying to test a new niche of clothing and creative display: a mix of kinky props and everyday clothing, with emphasis on office attire.

Vil looks absolutely dazzling on his violet blue formal shirt, sleeves rolled up his elbows to expose the shoulder-lenght latex gloves. A black leather chest harness hugs his figure perfectly, highlighting his curves and accentuating his proportions, his clothing, paired with the sensual makeup, gave him a rather imposing, bossy feel - the perfect face of a dangerous temptation, especially for you.

So much you can't help but unload all the little details about harness fashion you know about, about how they can be used to better pick on certain body parts, how they can be used for bondage and how you would love to try some on-

"Hush now, my precious nightingale. I love it when you sing for me like that, but…" He coos softly, his breath tickling against the hot skin of your cheek as his fingers came to press against your lips, gently nudging them open; a taunt and a promise of something more to come. "…I would hate it if the agency's staff came into my dressing room to find you like this."

Your eyes widen, suddenly remebering that anybody could walk in on any second, curious about the amount of noise coming out of Vil's room. As you slowly part your lips to welcome his gloved fingers, you hear a low chuckle of satisfaction coming. "Good puppy," Vil's whisper melts on your ears like dripping honey as his fingers make their way between uour teeth, playing with your tongue. "You deserve a reward for being so well behaved."

"Y-you feel so g-good, darling…" Idia groans in contentment before slamming his cock deep inside you once more. A shaky, devilish laugh rolls off his tongue as he watches the way you struggle to keep you hand steady, trying your best to pour some tea without allowing even the tiniest drop to stain the sheets.

Idia was the one trying to suggest new things for you two to try out - on his own nerdy, embarrassed ways. He was too scared to openly admit his kinks, thinking that maybe you could find him a weirdo, so he would casually comment about something like he was just talking about the news, or even pointing out something unusual on a character from some anime.

However, Idia soon discovered about the hype of cat maid cafés, and as he 'innocently' showed you some of the recipes and how you could pick your maid's personality, he was surprised to see how it had sparked your interest, his face going alight as you passionately unravel about your love for cute maid outfits and how you do own one. Idia wasn't one to make bold moves, but that was just too good of an opportunity to let it slip away from his fingers, so he lightly suggests to see you with it…

And now you found yourself full-on roleplaying. Taking in the role of a humble, diligent maid to your master, you faced multiple challenges as Idia reveled on your misery, trying to keep yourself composed while serving him.

Idia's fingernails dig on your hips, pulling down on the black skirt as he bucks up against you, low gasps leaving his lips. You need to bite down on your lips to contain a curse, holding onto the teacup between your hands for dear life. "So cute and obedient…" You shiver at his praise, his voice laced with dark desire, pushing you down on his lap.

You are surprised by his hand possessively wrapping around your chin, forcing your face to turn to him. Before you can mouth any sound, he captures your lips, making your grip finally falter, droplets of tea splasing over Idia's legs.

"Oh no, seems like you've made a mess… better clean it up quick if you don't wanna be punished, huh?" He smirks with mischief, his pointy teeth grazing over your shoulder threateningly.

You shudder in antecipation under Malleus' firm grip around the back of your neck, pushing your face down into the sheets. His throaty growl lingers over your body, leaving goosebumps under your skin. "Mine," Malleus rasps, his teeth sinking down on your back, leaving behind a perfect mark. "And I'll make sure everyone knows who you belong to." Malleus is very curious regarding everything that involves human nature, entertained by even the simplest of things. It wasn't uncommon to find him nose deep inside books, drinking in the particularities of the ones so exquisite for his fae standards.

While spending the afternoon with you in Ramshackle Dorm, quietly fidgeting through your phones and simply enjoying each other's company, he accidentally looked over your smartphone right in time to catch you scrolling down on a Magicam post about 'power play'. His interest is immediately piqued, intrigued by whatever it meant; Malleus points it out, interested to know more about it, and as you eagerly explains what it means, Malleus nods and hums in understanding, his mind working out on this new discovery.

"That's a very exquisite concept. Tell me, Child of Man, would you be willing to give me a practical demonstration on the matter? I'm certain I could understand it better this way."

You tried to keep Malleus pinned down on the bed, your hands firmly wrapping around his wrists to keep him still. Your attempt in dominance only the Fae Prince, who effortlessly turned you to lay on your belly, restraining you by the arms. "Looks like I am the winner of this little dispute. Shall I indulge in my prize now?"

"Easy now, sugar bat. If you tense up too much, it will hurt even more." A low chuckle rolls off Lilia's tongue, mischief mixed with tenderness etched on his cherry-coloured eyes. The paddle on his hand slowly runs over your warmed thighs, the sensitive skin shivering and squirming under the rough leather feel, teasing and threatening to strike once more.

"Back in my day, those devices were used as torture tools to coax prisoners into talking about their secrets. Now, they are used in intimate rendezvous to give pleasure induced by pain." Lilia giggles, an innocent smile gracing his lips - a very fake one. The glint on his eyes suggesting some sly, hidden interest, like he wasn't just silently reading the fanfiction you were writing on your phone.

"So, you're interested on the complexities of pain and pleasure, huh? Would you like to indulge in a demonstration? I'll be more than happy to lead you into this forbidden experience, my dear." How could you deny such a confident, tantalizing suggestion? You knew a lot about the theoretical thing, having read a lot about fiction or even health-related articles about BDSM and impact play. Despite being shy about it, you knew you could trust Lilia.

"You're doing very well, sweetheart," Lilia's whisper is sweet and reassuring as his fingers gently thread between your locks, a soothing gesture in contrast to the dry impact of the paddle against your buttcheeks, marking the skin with a pinkish colour. The leather leaves a stinging sensation, making you gasp and squirm over Lilia's lap. He leans in to press a soft kiss on your forehead, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Only ten more to go."

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 months

Text

relationship hcs ; rosie

requested by ; anonymous (17/02/24)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; rosie

outline ; “imma need some rosie (hazbin hotel) x reader smut and relationship hcs please, i'm over 18! thank youuu”

note ; we’ve only gotten one episode of content with her so this may be a smidge shaky regarding her characterisation — still, hope you all enjoy it ^^

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

rosie approaches your relationship in a way that’s a perfect mix of ‘modern’ dating and ‘traditional’ courtship — or, in other words, she makes an effort to take things slow and properly woo you whilst also not being afraid to have fun with you or do things to leave you flustered and speechless (she’s a gentlewoman for the most part, but she just thinks you look so cute when you’re like that and there are times when she can’t help but be a bit of a flirt)

her pet names for you are also a mix of terms that are considered more ‘modern’ and those that are recognised as more traditional to the era she lived — for example she’s just as likely to call you ‘sugar’ or ‘sweetheart’ when asking you to check on something she’s left in the oven as she is to call you ‘darling’ or her ‘angel’ when you fetch her something she’s forgotten without her having to ask (always followed up with a kiss on the cheek, obviously!)

her main love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service, though she’s happy to indulge in the others as well if those resonate with you a bit more — she’s nothing if not an attentive lover, after all

giving words of affirmation comes naturally to rosie and you’ll rarely go more than a few minutes in her company without her complimenting something about you (your hair, your makeup, your clothing, a joke you just said, a witty comment, or something that you’ve done that she liked) but she also appreciates being on the receiving end of these affirmations every once in a while — compliment her new dress or hat, praise her cooking (especially if you’re gushing to someone else but are still in full earshot of her), tell her how gorgeous she is, laugh at her jokes, affirm how absolutely smitten you are with her, etc.

likewise, as much as she loves to cook and bake for you (even going so far as penning a cookbook dedicated to all of your favourite recipes and keeping note of any textures or flavours you don’t like), she always appreciates you going out of your way to do something nice for her in return, no matter how small of a gesture it may be in the grand scheme of things — make her a cup of coffee in the morning before she’s fully woken up, help her prepare an outfit for the next day, make note of what she has in stock and go out and buy the ingredients in advance to make her day go that bit smoother, go and deal with susan so she doesn’t have to leave her station, do the chores on the days where she’s working late and you’re home alone, etc.

and, as was mentioned before, she’s also receptive to indulging in the other main love languages if those make you feel more seen and appreciated than the two that work best for her

if you thrive off of quality time then you can guarantee that rosie will be going out of her way to leave her cafe and join you for lunch and a lovely little walk and talk around cannibal town everyday — in addition to your weekly more ‘formal’ dates, of course

if it’s gift giving that makes you feel the most loved then she’ll be sure to always set aside a portion of your favourite treats that she’s made each day to bring home to you, as well as making the occasional stop at the various quaint little shops around town whenever she sees something you might like — and that’s not even to mention how much she loves spoiling you with love letters and larger gifts on your birthday and your anniversary (though she does that regardless of whether this is your primary love language — she just loves showing off how well she’s able to provide for you)

and, finally, if you’re someone who finds physical affection to be of immense importance in a relationship then you’re in luck when it comes to rosie because she has no qualms about being affectionate with you in public or in private — of course she’s always going to be a bit more reserved in public but that’s due to her upbringing and, even still, she’s far from conservative or neglectful of your love of touch when in the company of others

a few examples of her go-to types of pda include: linking arms when walking through town, pecking you on the cheek or lips whenever you visit her at her café, resting a head on your shoulder whenever you’re sat side by side, rubbing circles on the back of your hand when you’re sat across from each other, reassuringly squeezing your hand whenever you seem to be nervous, and placing a hand on the small of your back or on your shoulder when you’re stood beside her and talking to someone — nothing too over the top, but just enough that everyone who sees the two of you together knows that you’re an item without either of you having to say anything

she’s not as overtly protective as other overlords may be, but she’s excellent at quietly disposing of anyone who disrespects or harms you in anyway — she is a cannibal, after all, so it’s as easy as can be for her to hide a body

rosie is your biggest supporter in everything you do and is always there to lift you up and to catch you if you fall — ready to offer her congratulations and encouragements as readily as reassurances and her help however she can if she sees you struggling

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel rosie x reader #hazbin hotel rosie fluff

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beansricejc · 1 year

Text

JOHN WICK x READER : The Courier

part 2 (part 1!)

summary: three years have passed since you ran into John, where you refused his offer for a drink. you have climbed the criminal underworld social ladder significantly in the past three years. John sees this as a challenge, and insists that you have that drink with him. sparks fly, slower burn. female reader, 4240 words.

author’s note: i really like going into detail about the reader’s job because girl boss things, lol! if you haven’t, I’d recommend reading part 1 if you’d like, you can certainly read this as a stand alone! pls lmk what you think if you want to! thx! 💕

warnings: nsfw fantasies, alcohol, cursing, implied violence, organized crime, slow burn, significant age gap.

Three years.

It had been three years since you saw the man at that party. The party full of criminal elites, hitmen, you name it. If they were a big deal in the criminal world, they were there that night. You were just starting out then, actually on the job, you had delivered some files to the Continental Manager, Winston, that night. Right before you left, you managed to catch the eye of the world’s most dangerous hitman.

Wick.

John Wick.

He had insisted that you join him for a drink, and you insisted harder that you were working, still on the job. You had other deliveries to run, you didn’t have time to just drop an hour to share conversation and possibly suck face with the man.

You had made yourself known back then, criminals used your services often, and your gig slowly grew. And grew. And grew some more.

Until three years later, you had accidentally created an entire enterprise dedicated for servicing several crime syndicates around New York City.

Before you knew it, you were technically a crime boss. Your business delicately walked the gray area of illegal and legal.

Okay, it was actually super illegal.

You had hired almost 70 women from the local NYC area, all of them that met your standards of talent and experience. Completing deliveries across the city for crime syndicates was tricky work, work that had to be meticulously done.

And with one of the largest servicer businesses in the area, people didn’t just know your name, they feared it.

But why? Why would they fear the CEO of a shady delivery company?

You were neutral territory. With all of the gangs across New York City using your service, they knew better than to decide to mess with you, or your business.

You were like the Switzerland of the criminal underground.

Everyone in the local industry knew this.

And tonight, you had actually been invited to join this party, formally by Winston himself. Your assistant had casually mentioned the event invitation that he emailed you, and despite your higher status on the current criminal food chain, you were still shocked about it.

Your past 48 hours were solely dedicated to being a self care queen. Haircut, mani pedi, facial, eyebrow waxing, you name it. If there was one thing, it was you were were going to be the center of attention tonight.

And you were.

With your form fitting black maxi dress, gold jewlery, perfectly applied makeup and styled hair, you could just sense all of the eyes on you tonight. You had walked in with your small entourage consisting of your personal assistant, and a few personal bodyguards. Of course with you and your non-chalant attitude, you acted like you didn’t know that you were the shit.

And there was John. An almost repeat scene from three years ago, mingling with the same group of OG hitmen in a corner of the hotel lounge. Once again nursing the same brand of bourbon on the rocks, talking about god knows what, probably the worst way they’ve ever killed a group of goons.

John’s eyes scanned the room for any pretty women to hit on tonight, the same old same old. Buy a few drinks, go upstairs with a cute little thing, cum on her back, buy her an uber and send her home. John lost all hope in trying to actually find a romantic interest a long time ago after the passing of his wife, there was just no time for it.

Although, the thought of being battered and bloody, shuffling through the door after a hard days work, and having a pretty girl to patch him up and then subsequently suck him off did sound appealing to him.

Anyways, there John was, scouring through the bar and lounge with his dark brown eyes for something to cum on later this evening, and before he knew it, his eyes darted, and landed on none other, but you.

Y/N.

John widened his eyes, his heartrate increasing a bit just from the mere sight of you. The way your feminine figure looked in that black dress that clung to your body, the way your manicured fingers applied another layer of lipgloss while your assistant spoke to you. The way you introduced yourself to some very dangerous looking Yakuza members but managed to make them laugh with the almost fluent Japanese you were speaking, he was almost in shock.

John keeps an eye on Y/N. He likes your style but he knows you could turn on him at any moment you wanted, even if you weren’t known to jump to violence like most.

You appeared like a typical crime boss, hiding the brutal side of your under layers of class, style, humor, and charm. It's an act. The best are able to hide their dark side behind their public face. John has seen these types in his many years in the business.

But he’d be lying if he said you weren’t the most beautiful woman in this room right now. And your laugh, it travels like wind to his ears, it’s almost ethereal. Was it the liquor? Probably. He didn’t care, it had been years since he’s seen you leave through those doors, and now he’s only heard mere stories of you and your enterprise.

“No way, Y/N? She decided to actually come? God, she’s a fucking dime.” one of John’s colleagues that was in his mingling circle commented. John inhaled sharply, snapping out of whatever trance he just had from looking at her.

“You hear she still does her own jobs? Could you imagine any other boss getting their hands dirty in this day in age? I’ll give it to her, she’s a bad bitch.” the same guy said, the rest of the men laugh and agree.

John remembers, it hits him. Y/N isn’t necessarily a hitman, nor does she run a hitman empire. That’s right, she’s an armed, fast, and efficient courier. Not to mention deadly. Her or her team wouldn’t just be regular hitmen for hire, they would only kill if it was necessary to complete their deliveries. And sometimes, it was definitely necessary.

John has only heard of the high speed chases that she or her crew took part in against the police, or even people that want to get their hands on whatever they were transporting. And what did this woman of great skill use to transport important items for crime bosses?

Simple.

A Kawasaki Ninja H2.

An absolute beast, somehow street legal that had a top speed of 209 miles per hour. With a two-speed centrifugal supercharger and the best suspension on the market. Anyone without the skillset of Y/N or even one of her employees didn’t stand a chance to utilize this creature to it’s full potential.

The thought of riding one of those magnificent bikes sent a chill down John’s spine.

Not only did she have one, but every woman under her employment was issued one for jobs as well. The fastest street legal bike there was.

“Remember when she totally cock blocked you three years ago?” one of his colleagues, Parker, reminded John, snickering after. John’s face gave a deadpan expression to the laughing group of men, as he downed the rest of his liquor and demanded a refill from the bartender. The worker obliged without hesitation, pouring the brown liquid into his crystal clear glass, and John took a large drag from the cup, finishing about half of it in one go.

One thing that John had always regretted in the past few years since meeting that woman, was not being persistent enough.

The status she had obtained over the years was something to behold. Not only was she young, but she had climbed the social ladder in his industry faster than he had ever seen. He could see how too, with what was displayed about 45 feet away from his eyes.

Y/N with her entourage of bodyguards, a personal assistant, with her confident demeanor demanding respect with a subtle tone in her voice as she spoke in a foreign language, to these Yakuza members no less.

She was this pretty little thing, with a beautiful smile and laugh. But John could see the beast of her personality and lethal skill behind that feminine figure.

And he was intimidated to say the least. Not petrified or scared for his life, the potential to be a worthy adversary was there, lingering in the air.

And John was slightly turned on by it.

You were laughing with these Japanese criminals as your gaze was distracted from the wolf that was stalking you from all the way at the oak carved bar. Your heartrate sped up a bit, images of your first and last encounter, at this very same location infiltrated your brain. It was short but you wouldn’t consider it sweet.

Tense? Yeah.

John was clearly interested in something besides for sharing small talk over a drink, and seemed to take offense that you had more work you had to take care of that night. You stuck out like a sore thumb that night, with a motorcycle helmet on your head, in a crowd of people in black tie dress wear at the party.

And look what we had here, three years later.

Except instead of a wolf stalking his prey, it was a fair duel. Carnivor versus carnivor, in a sense. Both with a reputation and a high standing in the underground, no matter how long it was. You only had a few years under your belt, whereas John, had decades. And that was the most intimidating thing about him to you. Experience.

John decided he would take you as his challenge of the night. He may have failed three years ago, when you were nothing but a simple service provider, and he didn’t expect anything more this time around. But fuck it, right?

Let’s be a bit more persistent this time around, Wick. John thought to himself as he sauntered towards your stunned form.

Round two huh? No shit. You think, stifling a laugh and replying to something that one of the Japanese men said to you. You take another sip of your dirty martini, leaving a lipgloss stain on your glass as your eyes traveled up to John’s staggering expression as he finally approached you fully. You don’t move or say a word, in fact, one of your very large bodyguards steps between the two of you and begins to pat John down for any weapons he could possibly have on him.

John knew better than to carry a gun to a party hosted by the Continental. Besides, he hardly needed it. He was the weapon of the century, as far as he was concerned.

The bodyguard saw he was clean but knew that John was still a threat, if he really wanted to be. However, the guard stepped to the side, back to his original position, slightly behind Y/N’s much smaller and less menacing form.

A coy smirk painted your face when you finally meet his gaze again, as you delicately hold out your hand out towards John. He gladly takes it in his much larger, calloused hands, bending over slightly and placed a small kiss on your knuckles. A normal greeting for a woman of your position in this industry.

“You’re quite the persistent man, John.” you chuckle, as his lips leave your hand and he looked back at you, smiling in an almost tauntful manner.

That familiar scent of John Wick hits your nostrils once again. Patchouli, tobacco, and, gunpowder? Someone’s been busy.

“You’re not the first to notice, Y/N.” John retorts, holding up his glass to you in agreement. His knuckles are covered in freshly changed bandages, with yellow bruising peeking out from underneath them. “I’ve heard business is booming.” he comments, you roll your eyes and sigh.

“You could say that. A lot has changed in 3 years, as you can tell.” you reply, noticing that his dark brown eyes are studying everything about you. Classic hitman behavior. Your expressions, emotional state, movements, even the way that your nose scrunched when you smiled or laughed. Almost as if he’s unintentionally sizing you up, and this makes you chuckle.

“Oh, trust me. I know.” was the only thing John could reply to that. He realized you have caught him soaking in all of your features, including those tempting glossy lips of yours.

Sinful thoughts enter his mind, and he has to try his hardest not to give into them at this very moment.

He’s wondering what else those lips could do, he’s been fantasizing about you since day one, of course he’d never admit it. John was a notorious playboy after the death of his wife, his pride was too big to say that he may have regretted not going for you a little harder.

The thought of shoving you against one of his hotel room walls, with a thud that echoed out to the hallway ensuing from it. He’d loom over your much shorter frame, and you would breathe heavily, anticipating the hitman to not hold anything back with you. Moments of silence passed before he slammed his lips onto those pretty pink ones he’s been dreaming of for so long. Biting down on the flesh of your bottom lip, hands searching frantically for your core, ripping whatever fabric you had guarding it and teasing your clit with expertise. Slow and precise circles, just to torture you. You’d gasp at the sensation, leaving the perfect time for him to take over the kiss by tossing his tongue into your mouth, his other hand going to your neck and squeezing to keep you in your current spot. You wouldn’t be going anywhere, anytime soon.

“Did you want something?” you asked John, forcing him out of the fabrication that tantalized his brain. John cleared his throat, and laughed nervously.

“Was wondering, if you’d have that drink with me now.” John requested, nodding to the barren martini glass in your hand. You sighed, knowing that you were attracted to this older man, no matter how many times you tried to deny it to yourself.

You were the head of a criminal powerhouse, a young woman, independent, deadly, and an expert in your craft. Of course you didn’t want to be at the whim of some man that happened to get your attention, romantically, sexually, it didn’t matter. Besides, there was hardly time for it with the position you held.

But here you were, obliging John fucking Wick in having a drink with him, after three years of denying him.

Damn your hormones. Damn this man and his long dark hair.

So a drink you had. Then another drink. And a couple of shots, John wanted to know what the kids were drinking these days, so of course you had to show him. In the past couple of hours of actually easy going conversation, he had realized you were damn near his exact type of woman. Clever, with a great sense of humor, and fairly kind, all things considered. He could tell you weren’t just some underworld nepo-baby, and that you came from a humble upbringing, which made him even more attracted to you. (If that was even possible).

He met a woman who could keep up, even lead, a conversation with him.

If he was the Boogeyman, you were the Devil herself. Quick witted and sharp tongued, he couldn’t help but be even more intrigued after every sentence you dropped from your mouth.

The guests at this party were astonished to say the least.

The pair were certainly, a unique match. A young crime boss managing to make the world’s deadliest man open up like a badly wrapped package after a few drinks and good banter. What a sight to behold.

The night however, was ending. To his surprise, you were finishing the night up with a canned Pabst Blue Ribbon, a true contradiction to your current high ranking and your black tie event dress. John couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised, and noticed that the alcohol was certainly hitting the both of you.

You had told your personal protection entourage that they could go to their respective hotel rooms for the night, knowing that John wouldn’t be deemed a threat to you after he had showed you images of his Blue Stafford Terrier on his phone.

“You mind if I, uh, walk you to your room?” John hiccuped as he asked, you giggled at this mannerisms, giving your signature nose crinkle that your face did whenever you smiled. Your grabbed your leather purse and left some large bills on the counter to cover for your drinks. John slid your cash back to you, waving the gesture you gave off.

“I already took care of it. Don’t you dare.” John informed you, tossing you a wink and you rolled your eyes at his ever so flirtatious nature.

“Well, unnecessary, but thank you.” you drunkenly told him, sliding the large bills over to your bartender for his tip, shrugging at John. He raised his eyebrows, and took that generous action down in his head.

Treats waitstaff well. Noted. John thought to himself while the palm of his hand found it’s way to the small of your back, taking in the feel of the luxurious fabric. He led you out of the lounge and towards the elevators, managing to snag an empty one to help you into, not that you really needed the help, he was just being a gentleman.

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be a gentleman with you. Maybe it was your high status? Maybe it was because he felt different with you than with other women he casually hit on at the bar.

“Which floor?” John asked, and you looked up at his handsome face, drinking in his sharp and manly features. You didn’t know why (it was the liquor) but you giggled a bit at him.

“8.” you simply told him, and he pressed the button to that exact floor.

The doors shut, and John cleared his throat.

And here comes the tension. Was it like the movies? Would this ride up the hotel floors ensue in a steamy makeout session?

Of course not.

This was you we were talking about. You were ridiculous. So of course you checked your phone for anything important, and John couldn’t help but take a look to see if you were secretive. You weren’t. (It was the liquor, usually you were).

You had received a string of memes from one of your closest friends and assistant, Marissa. You two were very close, and she had been a part of your enterprise since day one.

John could tell, the age gap was evident. Shown explicitly by Y/N giggling and intoxicated at these random pictures she had been sent.

John took a closer look.

He was staring at a photoshopped image of a Hello Kitty head pasted onto a muscular matching body. John raised his eyebrows. He read the caption on the picture, which read: if the homies are sleeping on you, spoon them.

“Wh-what the fuck am I looking at?” John slipped up, as Y/N was giggling nonstop at the image on her phone.

“It’s a masterpiece, you just- you just don’t get it. And that's okay.” Y/N replied as the elevator doors opened to the floor that your room was on.

John shook his head and laughed at the absurdity of the joke.

The consequences of hanging out with the younger generation.

John escorted Y/N to her room, where you took out your room card and sighed. The butterflies in your stomach were going absolutely haywire at the moment, and you didn’t know if that was because of the alcohol, or the DILF of a man gazing down at her with a romantic look in his deep brown eyes.

There was the tension. Thick enough to cause a fog in the room, it tingled between them as they both bore into each other’s eyes.

Fuck it. John thought, his head dipping a bit, Y/N’s hand lifting to his chest to stop his movement. Her heartbeat was out of control, and the anxiety had finally caught up to you. Here was this absolute art piece of a man who she had been getting along with all night, all worked up and ready to go. You took a deep breath.

“J-John. I don’t really, do this sort of thing, I’m just too busy for any of it.” you admit to him. John’s soul plummets into the pit of his liquor filled stomach, he had been expecting to kiss this woman who had been keeping him good company all night.

Well, that killed the mood, didn’t it?

You weren’t good at this sort of thing, of course you’ve had several ex boyfriends in the past, but for a few years, you hadn’t indulged in any sort of relationship, mainly because of the hunk of responsibility that has now weighed down on your back.

“God dammit.” you curse at yourself as you cave in, wrapping your hands quickly around John’s neck and pull him in, crashing your lips onto his as he first intended to do. The passion between the both of you could have been caused by the alcohol, or by the banter you two had shared at the bar for the past few hours. John grunts in surprise but he isn’t mad at all, very satisfied actually. His hands find their way to your well shaped hips, which your dress was so delicately covering, and his fingers give you a taunting squeeze in response to your sudden change of heart.

John’s teeth do what he had imagined earlier when he first spoke to you, biting down on your bottom lip, earning a squeak of surprise from you. He can’t help but smile into the kiss, humming in affirmation to your cute noise.

The pair of you break away, both breathing heavily, you’re slightly dizzy from the alcohol, and he is dizzy on the thought of fucking you right here any now against the wall. The scratch of his beard still stung your mouth and cheeks but you didn’t mind. It was a reminder of him, even though he was right there in front of you. Your breath hitched as John watched your prominent chest rise and fall with each heavy breath that you took.

“Um, how about I give you my card, okay?” you ask, fishing out a black and metal business card and slipping it into John’s right hand. He’s taken aback by the coolness of the metal against his warm skin, and nodded into your forehead, that he was touching with his own.

John cleared his throat, that was still tingling from all of the alcohol he had with you tonight.

“Y-yeah. That’s perfect.” John answered. You press your lips together, a pink hue dashes upon your cheeks and nose after the kiss, you haven’t done anything like this in a few years.

Jesus Christ, what are you, a middle schooler? Pull yourself together, girly. You think to yourself.

“Alright,” you sigh, slipping your key card into the lock on the hotel door, opening it. You pause to look back up at John, still in your drunken and flustered phase from that kiss you two shared. “Just text me, ‘kay?” you ask, shooting him a nervous but still excited smile, before you swoop into the room, barricading yourself from John with the hotel door.

It closes, and clicks to let you know it’s locked.

You hurry to the bathroom and take a long deep breath, smacking yourself on the cheeks and splashing cold water on your face to knock yourself out of this state of anxiety you’re in.

John is still frozen in front of your hotel room door that you have just escaped behind, he shakes himself out of it and peeks down a the metal engraved business card.

It has your first and last name, phone number, email, and various social media accounts listed on the small card.

He still can’t believe what just happened.

Y/N, the ever so popular crime boss that was the next big thing, just melted like a schoolgirl in his arms.

No fucking way. John thinks, laughing a bit in disbelief.

He shuffles back to his hotel room, which happened to be on the same floor as yours, it’s down a few doors and to the right. He enters, goes inside and plops himself down on the bed, staring at the card that he still had in his hand.

“God, she’s hot.” He mumbled to himself, thoughts are racing through his mind, some innocent, most are filthy.

The image of you bent over his kitchen counter while pounding you into submission, spanking you hard on your nicely shaped ass while you scream his name is the consistent image in his head. Or him grabbing your hair, pulling your head back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he fucked, and fucked, and fucked you from behind.

John blinked a few times, realizing he now has a completely hard cock because of the fantasy that couldn’t seem to go away just now.

Well, looks like the playboy would have to take care of himself again. It wasn’t the first time he did it after meeting you, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

#john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick #john wick x reader #jw4 #keanu reeves #john wick x y/n

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hlizr50 · 9 months

Text

I hope you're ready for some RuhnLidia ANGST!!!

This idea came to me whilst chatting with @headcanonheadcase and @highladyofillyria about the Pack Darling books by Lola Rock. Highly recommend, in case you haven't read.

I hope you enjoy a bit of a darker, more angsty take on Lidia post-HOSAB.

Read it on AO3 or below!

Ruhn heaved a sigh of relief as he loosened his tie and unhooked the top button of his crisp collared shirt. He felt stifled by the formalwear, and even more so by the event that had required it.

Lidia Cervos had been awarded the Medal of Honor for her service during the Asteri War and in the volatile time after. It was the first time Ruhn had seen her since the Eternal City. Since she’d looked at him with dark, haunted eyes and traced her fingers over the fuzz that had grown in since his hair had been shorn to his scalp.

Since she’d hurriedly unlocked his shackles and told him to run.

Lidia Cervos looked like Hel.

Her formal military regalia hung limply from her shoulders, not filled out with sensual curves of muscle and flesh like they used to be, though the silver torque still curved around her neck. Her fists had remained clenched so tightly her knuckles were white through the entirety of the presentation. Her pale, sunken cheeks were devoid of makeup and life, and her unpainted lips tight and curved into a frown. Sleeplessness had bruised the flesh under dark, dead eyes.

And her hair.

It stuck out in haphazard chunks, as if shears had been taken to it in handfuls, and there had been no attempt by her or anyone else to control it. It was so unlike the cool and collected agent he’d known, and so unlike the confident beast she’d also been.

Lidia Cervos looked like a dead woman walking.

The image, seared into his mind, made his chest ache. It fit perfectly next to the echo of her broken voice, calling to him as he built the walls that shut her out as his sister ran to another world. And both of those memories snuggled up with the feeling of her fingertips against his shaven head and his cheek as those golden eyes glimmered with unshed tears and a wordless apology rippled in the chasm between them.

Ruhn’s hand combed through his hair, which had grown down just below his chin, his fingers lingering and rubbing the ends absently as he tugged the tie clean away from his neck.

He’d just stepped into the living room, on the way to the liquor waiting in the kitchen, when a soft knock on the door stopped him in his tracks. The tingling sensation at his nape and the faint tug against his rib told him what he could’ve looked through the doorbell camera to see. And when he swung the door wide he was unsurprised to find Lidia Cervos on the other side. Her posture was straight and proud, in spite of the exhaustion in her gaze. In her black fatigues and faded black v-neck she looked almost like the female that the world had feared before they learned her truth, though even these were baggy and ill-fitting.

Ruhn didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to greet the female who’d stolen his heart before he violently wrenched it from her hands. How long had it been since they’d been face to face? Nearly a year?

“I have something for you,” she murmured, looking squarely into his chest. His indigo gaze traced her outline, catching on the black duffel she held in her left hand. With a single dip of his chin he stepped to the side and gestured for her to enter. Lidia led him into the living room and then gestured for him to sit on the couch. She remained standing, stoic and silent, on the opposite side of the coffee table.

Then, without words or fanfare, she knelt and unzipped the bag. To the Valbaran prince’s unholy fascination, she fished out bundle after bundle of what looked like…

Hair?

Gold and auburn and onyx and chocolate brown, each handful tied with a string with a little white tag. Some were wavy, some straight and silky. One bundle was longer than his forearm, though most were considerably shorter. Ruhn leaned forward with furrowed brows, reaching for the tag attached to a fistful of blonde waves.

‘Pollux Antonius’

Holy. Fuck.

He tipped the tag of the next bundle: pin straight strands of darkest night.

‘Castor Scelus’

The Hawk.

Ruhn’s eyes snapped to the woman across from him as she stared at the macabre collection.

“I… what is this?”

“Everyone who hurt you, or ordered it. They’re all dead, save for one, though I wasn’t always the one dealing it.” Through her lashes, the former prince could see something glimmering in her stare — something dark and deranged and satisfied.

At least it was… something. But it still put him on edge.

He looked down the line, reading each tag, lungs stuttering when he read through six names that required no surname:

‘Austrus’

‘Eosphoros’

‘Hesperus’

‘Octartis’

‘Polaris’

‘Rigelus’

The Asteri.

Deep down he’d known the shifter had been involved when their bodies had been found, each with hair shorn to the scalp. She may not have dealt the final blow to all of them in the war — though she had likely killed one or two — but she had ensured their final humiliation.

The proof was there before his very eyes.

Then his attention fell upon the last bundle: the longest, still shining as if it had been spun from the sun itself. There was something unsettling about its beauty, about the urge he felt to run his fingers through it. But when he reached, he only touched the tag, and the name there sent his heart into his stomach.

‘Lidia Cervos’

When his gaze whipped back to her, they met smoldering liquid gold. Her stare was unwavering. Powerful.

“They’re all dead, save for one.”

“I never apologized to you. For the secrets I kept. For the things I did.” On a soft sigh she rose to her feet, the duffel forgotten. “You deserved so much more than I could ever give you. If I were stronger, I would have taken my own life just as I took theirs.” Her chin jerked toward the coffee table and where he sat, frozen with shock.

Lidia Cervos headed toward the door.

Ruhn stared at the grim collection of trophies strewn across the table. At the long golden ponytail that had been part of self-imposed penitence of a woman who had given all of herself. All he could hear was the echo of his name, the pounding of her fists against glittering adamant walls, the snick of cameras as she grimly accepted an honor she didn’t believe she deserved. He was blinded by her unkempt appearance and her empty gaze and the blur of tangled tresses of red and brown and black blonde.

And then… clarity.

“You remind me that I’m alive.”

It was the click of the closing door that spurred him. He leapt from the couch and reached the entryway in three colossal strides, throwing the door wide.

Ruhn’s large hand circled the shifter’s wrist before she’d made it to the bottom of the front steps, and she froze.

“Day…?” He whispered, praying that a sliver of her had survived. That would be enough — a seed that he could cultivate with comfort and love and understanding and forgiveness.

Silence.

He gave her a gentle tug, turning her body toward him. Her eyes were trained on the ground, so he palmed her cheeks and lifted her face to his.

“Lidia,” he breathed. Her name was foreign on his tongue. Rich and exotic and perfect. Gods, why hadn’t he said it before? Her eyes shot to his, wide and glassy, with the tiniest glitter of life.

That was all he needed to see.

Dipping his chin, he claimed her lips. The kiss was charged with everything he’d forgotten about how special she was — strong and capable and stubborn and beautiful. Something sparked inside him, a warm glow filling the void in his chest where she had been missing since that first day he’d shut her out.

The shifter pushed against him, breaking the kiss with a whimper.

“Ruhn… I…” she choked out before taking a shuddering breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

The Valbaran prince chuckled softly, his lips quirking into a gentle grin.

“I don’t give a fuck. You’re mine.”

He kissed her again before sweeping her into his arms and taking her inside. They had a lot to talk about. A lot of healing to do.

Ruhn was determined to make her smile again.

She’d killed for him.

Now he would bring her back from the brink.

Tag List: @headcanonheadcase @vikingmagic33 @thecrispypotatochip @mystical-blaise @daevastanner @mercarimari @sunshinebingo @foreverinelysian @freyjas-musings @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @octobers-veryown @damedechance @romancebooksandshit @daybrights @seleneastra @sv0430 @madie2200 @everfairypie

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rintarousgirl · 10 months

Text

i wanna be yours — 6. do i wanna know?

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know of the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou.

a/n: some feelings realization?? but also feelings denial?? very yummy, i know. hope you all enjoy! heres some yummy angst for y'all. i'm honestly so excited for the next chapter.

You sit outside Rintarou's house, enjoying the cool air-conditioning of your car. You texted him to let him know you were there, and he responded saying he'd come out in a minute.

You had to admit, you were considerably more nervous to hang out with him alone since the party. Then you'd been drunk, or at least you had some liquid courage in your system, but now? It was you, your anxiety, and Rintarou. Besides, at the party there were people in the next room over. This time, it was only the two of you.

Usually you don't get this nervous, but when you're alone in the home of an attractive celebrity...there's a lot to be nervous about. Like making a fool of yourself and getting fired or something. But you don't think Rintarou's like that. If you were to get fired for anything, it definitely wouldn't be Rintarou to make the decision either.

Looking through the window, you see his approaching figure. You scramble to get your keys out of your car and exit. Your car beeps as you lock it and go up to greet him.

He's in casual wear, a pair of black sweatpants and a maroon knitted sweater. You smile at him, suddenly feeling a little bit over-dressed in your pink sundress.

"Hey Rin," you greet, knocking elbows with him. A hug felt too personal, but a hand-shake felt too formal. So instead, you brushed his side, sending him a smile.

He smiled back, small and quick, but a smile nonetheless. "Hello, Y/N. How have you been?"

The walk is small, and he punches in the code to the lock on his house. The gates swing open, and the two of you walk through.

"I've been alright, and you?"

He shrugs. "Okay, I guess. I haven't done much in these past two days. How bad was your hangover?"

You laugh against the back of your hand. "Pretty bad. I had a headache for the whole day."

He winces. The two of you walk into his home, a large condo similar to the Miya's. The air inside is cold, and you feel a shiver go up your spine. You slip off your shoes, and he does the same.

Slowly, he watches as you venture down the hall peering into different rooms. The aesthetic is pretty beige, clearly lacking a lot of his own personality. It's also very clean, no doubt thanks to some housekeeper.

"It's very nice, Rin," you say, turning around. He's made his way closer to you, and you try not to startle at the close proximity. He tilts his head as you try to blink away your surprise.

"C'mon," he says, grabbing your wrist, "the kitchen is this way."

You follow him, and on his kitchen, counter is all the ingredients needed to make boba tea. He'd clearly had the kitchen cleaned before you came, because every marble surface shined like new. It was a bit charming, you think, that he'd bothered to get everything cleaned for you.

You two keep relatively quiet as you prepare and make everything. You have quiet small talk as you roll the flour into the small boba balls.

"I don't mean this to offend you but...your house kind of lacks personality," you say, gesturing to the rest of the house. The living room had maybe one throw-blanket, but everything else looked pristine and lightly used.

He laughs, shoulders shaking. His hands work delicately as he rolls the boba. He's a lot better at it than you are. "I'm not down here much," Rintarou admits, "I use the upstairs a lot more. This area's really only for visitors and family."

You tilt your head. "Why is that?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I've never really needed all the space, but my parents wanted me to get a big house that would be useful in the future or something."

You nod. That was reasonable. When Rintarou ever started a family he'd have a nice big kitchen, a spacious living room, lots of bedrooms. You wonder to yourself if he would quit singing in the future, he certainly already has plenty of money from it.

"May I see the upstairs after?" you ask, dropping your flour balls into the boiling pot. He bites his lip, and you ignore the way your eyes catch on the action.

"Yeah, 'course."

He walks over to you, dropping his boba into the pot as well. He works silently as he turns on the stove and pours the syrup in it. Your fingers brush, and his skin is ice-cold. You take a small step back.

Rintarou sets a timer on his phone, before turning to you. "It'll be done in like...twenty-ish minutes but I've got to check on it periodically."

"Good idea."

He beckons for you to follow him, and he leads you to a staircase. You can already tell that this space is a lot more lived in. You can smell the burning melts of candles, and the soft lights of lamps as you make your way into the upstairs hallway.

On the walls are multiple framed photos, looking professionally taken. "Do you like photography?" you ask softly, finger sliding down one of the frames.

He pauses, taking a glance at the photo you're looking at. "Yeah," Rintarou says, "I love it. I took 'em all. After I got my first large amount of money from the band, I travelled around a lot and took a lot of photos."

"You took this?" you ask, the surprise apparent in your voice. He chuckles, and there's a small gleam of reminiscing in his eyes.

"Yeah. That was from the United States. I went to the Multnomah Falls, a very popular place. Thinking back, I would've liked to go to a more secluded and natural place, but I was young and spoke very little English."

"It's still beautiful," you say honestly, but you aren't looking at the photo anymore, you're looking at him. You're looking at the small flush on his cheeks, the gleam in his eyes, the shine on his lips. The photo is beautiful, but so is Rintarou.

You cut yourself out of that chain of thought quickly, shaking your head as you look away. You take note of the small plaque underneath the frame, stating the location and date. You and Rintarou were both 26, so while taking this photo he would've been around 21. You tried to imagine him, traveling the world taking photos, a load of money to his name and only knowing the Japanese language and a bit of English.

Rintarou continued down the hall into a large open space. It had a sunken in living room, a lot smaller than the one downstairs but big enough to fit a fuzzy grey rug, a nice leather black couch, a TV, and a coffee table. You could tell this was the one he used more, many pillows and throw blankets littering the couch cushions.

He points to three doors. "The one on the far left is the bathroom, and the other two are guest bedrooms." He spins around and points to a set of double doors. "There's my bedroom, though it's a bit messy so we won't go in there. Besides, my cat, Arabella's, in there and she's afraid of new people."

"Aww," you coo.

Rintarou sits on the couch, patting the space next to him. You take a seat, trying not to tense up as he flings an arm around the couch behind you. He pulls out his phone and checks the timer. Fifteen more minutes.

"I'm gonna go check on it, feel free to explore."

And with that he's back down the hall, heading down the stairs.

It's a bit awkward. You want to explore, but you also don't want to go into a room he wouldn't want you in. Still, you rise, and head down another corridor. At the end of the hall, there's a decent-sized balcony that hangs over a huge pool. One of the doors lead to an in-home recording studio, and another into a study. There's a lot of fancy equipment that you're scared to touch, so you make your way back to the couch and sit patiently till he comes back.

Rintarou comes back around two minutes later and resumes his spot. His fingers brush your shoulder from where his arm rests on the couch behind you. He turns on the TV, letting the reels play.

Softly, you ask, "What made you want to be a singer?"

He presses his lips together, his head lolling back. Your eyes drift up the expanse of his pale neck, to the slope of his jaw, to his eyes.

"My mom," Rintarou rasps, closing his eyes. You lean into his touch, your cheek brushing his arm. His lips twitch when you do. "She used to always sing to me before bed, it was the only way I'd be able to fall asleep when I was younger. And in the morning, she would play music on the radio for us to wake up to."

"That was sweet of her," your mom had done something similar. You can fondly recall the stories she used to read to you at night to help you doze off.

"Very. She helped me learn how much I loved singing, and music in general. I probably would've been a photographer if she hadn't, which I would've enjoyed doing as well. But I really like singing."

"How is your mom?"

Rintarou's eyes open, and he sits up a bit. "She's uh...she passed away two years ago." Your eyes widen, and your teeth bite down on your lip.

"Oh, I am so sorry--" you begin to babble, bowing your head. Rintarou sighs and flicks your shoulder.

"Don't be. It's alright, I've moved on."

You lift your head. "It was still insensitive of me to ask."

He shrugs. "You didn't know. It's fine. You're very apologetic, y'know."

You smile sheepishly. "What can I say?"

He laughs, and you laugh, and suddenly the heavy mood was lifted. Slowly, your own giggles die off and you watch him, listen to the way he chuckles, and the way his cheeks turn pink.

Your heart does a silly little flip in your chest, which you shove down and swallow.

No, you can't be unprofessional like that. You weren't that kind of girl, not that kind of worker. He was a job; his band was a job. All you had to do was apply makeup and get them outfits. This couldn't be happening.

But you look back to him, you look at the grin on his lips and you think. How could having a crush be so bad? Logically, you know you could get fired. Logically, you could get your reputation in the industry destroyed. Logically, he could ruin your life. You couldn't risk all that. Not when you were barely known, not when being his makeup artist could get you through that door to the industry.

Rintarou looks at you, eyes soft and slightly wet. His tongue laps over his lips, and you swallow.

You couldn't.

Slowly, his grin falls off his face, and his own eyes lock on your lips.

You couldn't. Yet you wanted to so bad.

The space between you gets smaller, and your head tilts to one side as his eyes slide shut.

You couldn't. You absolutely, positively, couldn't.

Rintarou's lips brush yours, and you sigh and pull back. You try to ignore the surprised, almost hurt look on his face.

"We should check on the boba," you whisper hoarsely.

"Y-Yeah," he stutters, "we should."

He gets up first, and slowly rounds the couch. You feel a horrible feeling sitting in your gut like lead. You look over your shoulder and watch as he leans against the couch, and rueful and contemplating look on his face.

Rintarou's shoulders are hunched in, his head low. His body language screams that he's upset, almost fearful. Something blooms in you, and you want to wipe away those fears. You meet him on the other side of the couch.

You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Let's go," you urge softly, giving a light tug to his hand. He follows, silently.

At least, in the end you can say, the boba was good.

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★ - atsumu is spamming suna's phone during all this, because suna had mentioned that you were coming over today

★ - after the boba was made, it was so awkward that you made up some excuse about having a client waiting for you. suna believed you.

★ - you went home and freaked out. you texted akaashi in all caps about the whole thing.

★ - suna's cat is very skittish.

★ - suna's biggest fear is scaring you away.

taglist:

@mannaornot \ @gojoscumslut \ @sunarots \ @alienvarmint \ @tojirin \ @tkooooop \ @cheriesdear \ @shotenvinsoot \ @wolffmaiden \ @riiceandsoup \ @thebrownemo \ @vivian-555 \ @effmigentlywithachainsaw \ @rukia-uchiha-98 \ @weird0o0 \ @seiamor \ @rory-cakes \ @blue-violin \ @reveusecherie \ @hellokittylover9 \ @yourlocal-bunny \ @keniza \ @cerberuspuppy1 \ @baramii \ @kirbyscreeper \ @rioiio

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kess-in-the-perthchimzone · 6 months

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Little details in episode 11

I really love episode 11 (ugly sobbing). And it only improved on returning to it over a week late with a glass of wine. This is very first half heavy because I’ve written a lot about the back half separately.

The bag!! It shows very prominently here, even as Sailom knows he’s about to quit school. Once again, Kang and his family are still with him even though Sailom doesn’t think they are! (And there are so many other points you see it. More than any other episode I can remember.)

The makeup team! Chimon! He LOOKS bone deep exhausted and sad here

Perth plays Kang so interesting here. He starts breathing so hard when he looks over at Sailom. He looks like he’s fighting the urge to jump out of his seat and go over to Sailom.

The contrast of this delicate shoulder hold and Sailom’s arms looped around his chest in episode 10 BREAKS MY HEART.

This is a brutal line. And this is why I don’t take it seriously when people say DR doesn’t ever talk about income inequality. What does school matter when you are the sole source of income for your family? I will never forget this moment!!

The irony of this line is that Kang is probably MUCH more comfortable with Sailom at school — it makes the stalking easier 😂 — but I still want to see the absolute meltdown Kang would have had if Pimfah started sponsoring Sailom. They have been friends since they were babies … would that be the end??

Here is my number one argument for why Sailom needed to be the one to escort in the roleplay. He stops Auto in the gym from prostrating for him, we see that in a flashback (as Sailom is remembering it from the lens of Auto being a good friend). Sailom also tried to stop Kang from kneeling in the bike shop. Sailom has been staunchly, fiercely proud this whole series. The fact that he is willing and comfortable playing the role of service to Kang is actually a beautiful sign that he has grown and changed as a person and is willing to bend in the future. We don’t need to see this again from Kang because we have already seen it in the bike shop and in episode 11 when he finally got to take care of Sailom.

Not one of Sailom’s happy memories being Guy supporting him dating Kang … while Sailom is about to say goodbye to Kang for what he thinks is the very last time. SOBBING

I am CONVINCED Sailom knew it was Kang standing in front of him by his legs/hips alone. He already knows who he’s glancing up to see before his eyes ever meet Kang’s. This boy has probably MEMORIZED every line of Kang’s body.

I just want to point out that Kang was going to walk past him without saying or doing anything!! His face before Sailom thanked him was not mad. If anything he looked like he might cry. And then to have Sailom call him back — I think he got hopeful that Sailom might try to actually talk to him

You can actually SEE how Sailom very formally thanking him felt like a knife to the heart instead. His eyes are DEAD.

Then Kang goes quiet. He stares at Sailom for a long long second. And he keeps making an aborted arm movement as if to touch. Then he leaves as soon as he gets the pin. Boy is so close to crying here.

Meanwhile, Sailom is putting up one of his absolute best I’M FINE!! Fronts. He almost manages a smile.

We the audience sympathize with him so much because we see what he looks like after Kang walks away but Kang is only seeing the facade to this point.

Noticing for the first time that Sailom can’t get all the way through it when he starts to tell Saifah he quit school. I’m so upset. Look how openly devastated he looks

I’ve said repeatedly I want a sunshine Chimon character soon, but I actually think I want a really tortured angry one. He’s SO HOT HERE and also later fighting the guy in the hospital

Sailom’s genuine smile for getting a bonus for working the morning shift!! I’m just really sad thinking about how ever many days he spent working full time not seeing anyone he loved except Saifah in jail and how much that simple kindness had to mean to him

Kang’s bravery here! They were going to run Sailom over and he put himself right in the path of it. Also, Sailom’s immediate trust in jumping on with him.

It’s so weird not hearing boyfriend and it makes me sad!! But also the word friend gives me episode 2 feelings

The more I watch this scene the more important I think it is that Kang is very quiet. He is seeing Sailom being openly furious. Sailom is NEVER like this usually. This is the beginning of Kang starting to really see behind the mask

Full credit to @criticallyobs for this one — Kang definitely thought Sailom was going to get on the bike with him and was pouty and startled when he did not

This part of the episode makes me emotional because it was when I instantly stopped being mad at Kang in the face of his big puppy dog eyes and soft voice.

Noticing for the first time that Kang touched him when he said “Come with me”

After Kang says “be still” in the actual softest voice ever he physically takes Sailom’s bare leg and pulls him closer. It’s … a lot. I’m … overwhelmed

This is Sailom fishing. He’s just emboldened enough by the realization that Kang followed him to try to get Kang to open up

Sailom’s face when he realizes Kang came back!! stab me in the heart!!

The long pause after Sailom says “I thought I had no one left” where Kang fully and unquestionably realizes how much Sailom needs him. Stab me in the heart!!

Sailom is the lighter sleeper of the two canon confirmed

Kang lets out such a deep breath after all his bravado at the door. He was so scared and he braved it for Sailom!!

Sailom’s smile when he realizes Kang is going to come with him to the police station, stoooop

Annnd I’m out of images but still have 15-20 things I want to talk about in episode 11, so expect more to come later

#Little details series #Kess babbles about dangerous romance #dangerous romance #dangerous romance the series

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celebritymakeovers · 2 years

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Indian makeup artist Brisbane

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#bridal makeup artist Brisbane #Indian makeup artist brisbane #bridal makeup services in brisbane #makeup course in Brisbane #Formal Makeup services

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femmefatalevibe · 10 months

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Hello dear 💐 I hope you're having a wonderful day! I was wondering if you have any advice/ tips on how to embody a feminine energy similar to the one of Audrey Hepburn?

Thank you in advance 🥀

Hi love! Here are my suggestions:

Focus on appreciating the small things and simple daily pleasures

Display quiet confidence and gleeful yet reserved energy

Embrace an abundance mindset – internalize the notion that there is plenty of opportunities, love, and attention to go around. The only person you're in competition with is yourself

Focus on living a relationship-oriented life. Consider how you can help others from a place of abundance and a genuine desire to help others, not as a source of self-validation or a form of self-sacrifice/people-pleasing. Engage in community service and charitable acts without feeling a need to publicize your good deeds

Stay curious about the world. Become a life-long learner. Always seek to learn from others around you, books, movies, formal schooling, traveling, self-reflection from your own lived experiences

Remain clear, calm, and confident with an underlying discreet elegance in your speech and mannerisms. Take your time when speaking or going through the motions throughout your day

Emulate the classic Parisian minimalist aesthetic – tailored clothes in neutral colors (black, white, beige, baby pink), ballet flats, classic slingbacks/kitten heels, and timeless accessories (pearls, silk headscarves, headbands, and diamond earrings) with minimalist makeup that includes evening your complexion with a light wash of blush on the cheeks, naturally-defined brows, soft brown eyeshadow, black eyeliner, black mascara, and a rosy neutral lip color

Curate your wardrobe with some staple Parisian minimalist essentials: A black turtleneck, a neutral striped sweater, a beige trench coat, tailored black and gingham (capri) pants, a white button-down shirt, a little black dress, a white midi sundress, a classic well-fitting pair of blue jeans, a classic black waist-cinching belt, a classic polo shirt, and oversized black sunglasses

Use Givenchy L'Interdit Eau de Parfum (her signature scent)

Hope this helps xx

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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❛ i realized what was the matter, what had always been the matter — i was deeply and incurably in love with her. ❜ 👉🏻👈🏻

Anonymous asked: Hi :D can i have a ❛ i’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me. i love you. ❜ with a pining homelander? :D AO3 Link. Familiarity and consistency feed a base need in all of us; stability. For Homelander, there are precious few things in his life that offer him any of the above. People come and go. It's the nature of the business. He's stopped paying attention to the PA's, interns and other worker ants that rotate in and out. Their faces blend together in a bland sea of normality and mediocrity. They're little more than cogs in the machine of his contrastingly extraordinary life.

Funny, then, that you should catch his attention amidst the buzz of it all.

It happens quite abruptly. He's just sat down before a brightly lit vanity, where it's your job to style his hair and makeup, as it has been for the last several months. You greet him good morning, as you do every time, but for whatever reason… He notices you today.

"Remind me, what's your name again?" Homelander asks, watching you draw a comb from your kit.

That catches you off guard. You stare at him for a moment before snapping to attention, smiling sheepishly as you introduce yourself. The name doesn't sound familiar to him. Had he never actually asked? Probably not. Why would he bother?

He hums. "You've been styling me for awhile," he notes, tone contemplative.

"Yes, sir. About eight months now," you say, using the comb to begin working product through his hair. You're fairly certain this is the most he's ever spoken to you in all that time.

To Homelander, that sounds like both a long while and yet no time at all. It's nothing in the grand scheme, but in terms of the people he sees consistently, that puts you in a shockingly small pool of individuals.

From that day forward, it's like you suddenly exist to him.

"Gooood morning," he greets you the next day, which comes as something of a surprise to you. He never initiates.

"Good morning to you, sir," you say with a smile that catches his eye.

You're actually quite pretty, he notices. Not exceptionally so, not like the celebrities and figures of social influence that someone like him brushes shoulders with on a daily basis, but... pretty nonetheless. He doesn't remember you being this pretty before, and speculates whether you've changed something about yourself. He cannot put his finger on what that may be, though.

Homelander waves his hand dismissively. "Please, Homelander is fine. You keep it awfully formal."

You laugh, pushing your fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter shut as you do. "I'm a creature of habit. Might take me a couple tries to adjust," you warn, covering his forehead with your palm as you spritz product into his hair. He likes that you never let any of that sticky crap get on his face. You always take care of him, taking all these little measures to ensure his comfort, even though he’s never complained. You seem to do it entirely out of reflex simply because you care enough to.

"Well, you've made it this far. You've got time to adjust," he says. Now that he's seen you, he doesn't care for the thought of you being gone.

More and more, he starts looking forward to the time he spends in the chair with you. What used to be a monotonous aspect of the celebrity side of his life has become a comforting ritual. The two of you chat easily, like old friends made new. He tells you about himself, vents to you about work and personal business alike, and in turn he learns about you, and the life you live beyond the time he spends with you. It’s nothing extraordinary, not like his, but it's yours.

The more he grasps that you are an entire person outside of the service you provide him, the more he wants to know. He doesn’t give a fuck about your elderly cat, but he does like the way your voice changes when you talk about it. His mind drifts when you tell him these little anecdotes, and he wonders what you tell the people in your life about him. He wonders if your tone changes when you do. Do you speak fondly of him?

Days turn to weeks, and weeks to months. Little by little, Homelander discerns small changes in himself. There’s a slight pep in his step these days. The sun feels a little warmer, the thrum of crowded events less irritating. His attitude towards interviews flips; even the ones he used to dread, he begins to anticipate. He knows you’ll have him looking and feeling his finest. When he has nothing on his schedule to be styled for, he sulks.

On those days, he misses your laugh. He makes sure the products he keeps at home are the same as the ones you use. The smell of them reminds him of the smell of you, of your knock-off Dior perfume that fades too quickly after you apply it, which makes it just perfect for his keen sense of smell. The subtlety of you, your sincerity and gentleness, have become a boon against the corporate, unfeeling reality of his day to day life.

On the days he does see you, he begins to miss you before you’re even gone.

Now, as he walks to his next scheduled appointment with you, he’s painfully aware of the beat of his own heart. His stomach is twisting in on itself, though he isn’t hungry. If anything, he feels a little… nauseous. The closer he gets to the door, the louder the cacophony inside of him becomes. Is he sick? That shouldn’t be possible, but he can’t understand what’s happening to him.

Pausing just outside the door, Homelander takes in a steadying breath. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Collecting himself, he gives his face two quick pats on either side, shaking his head. Get it together , he tells himself, stepping into the dressing room. “Gooood morn–” Homelander cuts himself short, looking around the room. His brows pinch. He knows he isn’t early. Pursing his lips, he takes a brief stroll about the room, clutching his hands behind his back. He peers down the hallway, cutting through the layers of wall with his vision. No sign of you on the grounds yet. He clicks his tongue. You’ve never been late.

Unable to settle, Homelander paces for a while. He has the thought to call you, but he realizes he doesn’t have your number. Why doesn’t he have your number? It seems such a silly, obvious thing to have, despite the fact he’s never needed it. He’s just pulled out his cellphone to track it down from Ashley when the door suddenly opens, and his head snaps up. The initial relief he feels is cut sharply short, turning cold in his chest when the person who steps through the door is not you.

“Good morning!” The woman greets him, chirpy and fake, grating in Homelander’s ears. She’s not really happy to see him. She doesn’t know the first fucking thing about him. His leather gloves creak as he curls his hands into fists.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks, voice as measured as he can manage it. His anger comes in an unreasonable surge. This woman’s only crime is the fact she’s not you, and yet it’s enough to make him want to rip her head off her shoulders.

The woman hesitates in the doorway, her friendly demeanor flipped immediately to a fearful one. “Uhm, my name is Lisa, I’m supposed to style you to–”

“Where is my stylist?” Homelander interrupts her, stepping close, prowling towards her like a hungry predator. He says again, louder this time, voice full of anger and anxiety in equal measure, “Where the fuck is my stylist?!”

“I– I don’t know!” Lisa yelps, stepping backwards from him. “I was called in as a last minute replacement! They said– they said there was an accident, or–”

Homelander pushes her roughly out of the doorway, blowing past her with a frustrated growl. She hits the wall before crumpling to the floor like a sack of potatoes, but he doesn’t even register it. Why the fuck didn’t anyone think to tell him?

“Ashley!” He snarls into his phone the second she answers. “Tell me where the fuck my goddamn stylist is.” ~~~~~~

Homelander is at the hospital within minutes. The staff puts up a meager effort to enforce protocols, but he IS The Homelander, and they inevitably let him through.

You’re sitting with the hospital bed halfway reclined, wearing nothing but a hospital gown when he steps in. The vibrant reds and blues of his suit paint a sharp contrast to the stark white walls of the hospital room. You have a pudding cup in your hand, though you nearly drop it when you see him in the doorway. His hair is unstyled, splayed loose in every direction from his flight.

“H-Homelander,” you sputter, choking on your bite of pudding. You swallow, clearing your throat. He’s walking towards you. The closer he gets, the faster your heart beats. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” He asks, blowing off your question entirely. He blinks, and his vision flickers. He scans your body for internal damage, for broken or fractured bones. You’re not wearing a cast or anything, but he needs to be sure.

You nod, clutching at the blanket, wearing your confusion plainly on your face. “Yeah, I’m okay, it’s probably just mild whiplash, but I’m getting an x-ray to be–”

“You’re fine,” he breathes, more to himself than to you, though his relief is palpable. He can hear the flustered patter of your heart clearly. With the adrenaline wearing off, he’s beginning to feel that sickly familiar feeling that he had experienced in the hallway; butterflies rampant in his stomach, battering their wings frantically inside him. His jaw feels tight, his tongue too big for his mouth.

Staring at you now, frail and precious as you are in this ugly hospital bed, he realizes what’s the matter, what has always been the matter– he is deeply and incurably in love with you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking in his tortured expression, his wildly wind-swept hair. It would make you laugh if he didn’t look worried sick.

“No,” he says, the response knee-jerk. Even though the room is still, he feels as though the world is spinning around him. “No, I think… I think I’m in love with you,” he says, expression twisted up, like he’s figuring out each word as he says them.

Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches in your lungs. The bewildered confession utterly paralyzes you.

Homelander laughs. It sounds a little hysterical. “I’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me,” he says, reaching out to cup either side of your face in his gloved hands. “I love you,” he says, voice firmer now, the realization setting in fully. He looks a little delirious with it. He’s discovered a secret that he should have known all along, that seems so obvious in hindsight. Of course he loves you, because you love him .

The gentleness in your hands as you touched his face, the care in your fingers stroking through his hair far longer than both of you knew you needed to.You dedicated yourself like no other to showing him reverence in service, and is that not love in its purest form?

And yet, you don’t look to share his elation.

You feel like you’ve been struck by lightning, tingling all over with pure shock. You’re not sure if you’re lightheaded because of his words, or because you’ve forgotten how to breathe properly. Either way, you manage to suck in a shaky breath, blinking several times.

Homelander’s smile falters. “What’s the matter?” He asks, tone dropping slightly. “This is good news! Great, even.” For every second that you do not speak, the beat of his heart feels heavier in his chest. Why don’t you look happy?

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You lift your hands and grip his wrists, squeezing them through the thick fabric of his gloves to convince yourself that this is actually happening. Maybe the accident was worse than you thought, and you’re hallucinating. “I never… I never would have thought, or even dreamed, in a million years… You would love me back.”

Like a dying flame stoked back to life, Homelander’s demeanor reignites, his fading smile broadening once more. “I was worried when you were late,” he says, leaning closer to you. He’s near enough that you can smell the ozone lingering on his skin from the way he tore through the sky to reach you. He huffs a laugh that feels warm on your lips. “They sent in some idiot to fill in for you, like they could replace you that easily. I almost tore her head off,” he muses quietly.

Your brows furrow. “Wait, what?” He almost did what now?

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

You shiver with it, nodding minutely, eyes falling shut. “Please do.”

Homelander’s lips are unbelievably soft against yours. You can’t help but melt completely against him, relaxing fully into his grip. Maybe it’s the pain meds, but you feel like you’re flying. Your stomach is doing backflips while his lips move against yours, gentle and exploratory, learning the feel of you.

When the two of you break apart, you exhale, laughing breathlessly. You move your hands to touch his face. You’ve seen it countless times, been close enough to kiss it a dozen more, but the barrier of reality has always been a thick wall from it. You scarcely let yourself fantasize about it, let alone come anywhere close to acting on such thoughts.

Glancing up, you cannot help but laugh more earnestly at the wild splay of his hair. “And people wonder why I use so much gel,” you murmur, pushing both of your hands into his hair to smooth it down, cupping the back of his head. Homelander smiles so wide and boyishly, you can’t help but kiss him again.

“I’m not out of my mind on pain meds right now, right?” You ask quietly, the tip of your nose lightly pressed to his. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he purrs, kissing you gentler than you thought possible. “You’ll be seeing a whole lot more of me from now on.”

Maybe you’ll send flowers to the guy that rear-ended you this morning. You’re pretty sure he changed your life forever.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #i hope y'all like this one!! i saw the two and just felt like they would work so well together #thanks for sending them!!!#my writing #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #lord this turned out so freaking long #i CANNOT proofread to save my life but let me know if there's some glaring error lmao #fluff #all of a sudden there you are

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maigeiko · 9 months

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Kamisuwa Onsen, collected random infos

Back in March, a reader of this blog asked for a blog entry in the vein of previous "the look of..." features, but for Kamisuwa Onsen 上諏訪温泉. Sadly, there isn't much visual material available and the basic look of the 3 or less remaining Geisha boils down to: Yohatsu, Homongi, light-coloured Obiage, Otaiko Musubi, or the formal look: Tsubushi Shimada, Kurotomesode, red Obiage, Otaiko Musubi. So here, I present some collected random infos you might find interesting.

Kamisuwa Geisha, Setsubun 2014

Dances Kappore かっぽれ Takeda bushi 武田節 Kiso bushi 木曽節 Kohan bushi 湖畔節 Ina bushi 伊奈節 Shôchikubai 松竹梅 (performed in the new year season) Tsurukame 鶴亀 (performed at wedding receptions and birthdays) O-Suwa Takashi お諏訪節 Sukêto bushi スケート節 (Ice skating on lake Suwa) Kirigamine kouta 霧ヶ峰小唄 (ice skating) Onhashira kouta 御柱小唄 Suwa ondo 諏訪音頭 (about the beauty of Suwa throughout the seasons) Okaya kouta 岡谷小唄 (about the Okaya silk industry) Numbers 1930's ("early Showa period"): 200 Geisha in Kamisuwa 1958: 80 1960's: 300 2006: 3 History The first Hanamachi on lake Suwa developed in Nawatemachi 縄手町/畷町 in 1903 (renamed to Otemachi 大手町 in 1909). In the following years, a few Ryotei were established. In 1920, the area of Otemachi 1 and 2 chôme was designated as area for Geisha, so Okiya and Ryotei of the neighbouring Izumichô area 和泉町 were moved there. In the early Showa period (1920's/30's), Okiya that were formerly located in Hamamachi also moved to Otemachi. Kamisuwa had two kenban: Ote kenban 大手見番 and Koyanagi kenban 湖柳見番. In Shimosuwa 下諏訪, it seems kenban had no specific names. In Okaya 岡谷, there used to be another Koyanagi kenban 小柳見番 in the Honmachi area. In Chino 茅野, there were Miyagawa kenban 宮川見番 (current Miyagawacho area), and Eimei kenban 永明見番 (current Nakacho area). Before the around 1969/70, Geisha of these respective cities did not work in other cities. But with the decline of Geisha numbers, the Hanamachi in Okaya, Shimosuwa and Chino were no longer able to meet the demands of their customers, so it was allowed for Geisha from Kamisuwa to pad those numbers.

Chiyomaru 千代丸 in "Showa Meigiren", 1988 Daily life Geisha usually practiced their respective arts (such as Narimono, Nagauta, Kouta, dance) until 15:00, afterwards they went to the beauty parlour to get their hair done, put on makeup and change into work clothes. Ozashiki usually lasted for two hours. Style In the year 1935, Geisha still wore their natural hair instead of wigs, and their hairstyle changed, depending on rank and age. Hangyoku wore Momoware 桃割れ and Oshidori おしどり. Geisha under 26 years wore Yuiwata 結い綿 or Taka shimada 高島田, no info on Geisha between 26 and 30, Geisha aged 31 and above wore Geiko yui 芸こ結い, tsubushi (shimada?) つぶし, icho gaeshi 銀杏返, and yokai maki 夜会まき. Around 1955, most Geisha wore short hair or western updos on a daily base and used Nihongami wigs for work. Becoming Geiko Three mediators who acted as go-between of Okiya and families/volunteers worked in Kamisuwa. According to Manchiyo, who worked from 1930 to 44 in Otemachi, the daughters of poor farmers and travelling entertainers were sold to the Okiya for 15 yen. When the parents met with the Okiya, the length of the girl's service was decided. After becoming employed by the Okiya, the girls were doing "odd jobs", while taking lessons in Hanayagi-ryu dance, Shamisen and other arts. It's like Shikomi in Kyoto, although no specific term is named. When a Hangyoku was ready to become a Geisha, she had to prove her skills in dance or shamisen to a council of dance/shamisen teacher, Okiya owner, senior Geisha, head of the Geisha association and a member of the Kenban. The Okiya spent around 30 yen for an Erikae, while the Geisha had to take a loan of 150-200 yen. If her parents were to borrow money during her time before becoming independent, it was added to her loan. If parents continued to ask for money and the Geisha's debt became too large, they often became prostitutes in order to pay off their debts. Around 2 years after becoming Geisha, they became "Goshugi tori" ご祝儀取り - they receive some of the money from the Gyokudai, but tips were entirely for them to keep. The next level was called "share" 分け, when 40% of all earnings were her own. When becoming independent from their Okiya, they paid fees for food and being registered at the place. Most Geisha also had a patron after becoming independent, which also lead to most of them retiring before the age of 30. @gardengeisha yes, this is about Kamisuwa Onsen located in Suwa-gun in Nagano prefecture!

Sources: https://www.saginoyu.com/blog/10090 (2014) 地方花柳界における〈芸〉と〈色〉諏訪湖沿岸地域の事例 (2015) 花街文化伝える学校が開校／長野・上諏訪温泉 (2008) はなあかり: 昭和名妓連 (1988)

#kamisuwa #onsen geisha #mg #kimono #geigi #geiko #geisha

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