a touch of luxury

An Ode to the Venus Signs

Aries: The primal lust for power that drives you fuels the spark in your eye and the deceiving lilt in your voice that rears just as you go in for the kill. You will eventually give up being the ever-brave knight and the same cold knife that pierces his heart in exchange for the purity you braved oceans of passion and battles of ferocious kisses in the thundering moonlight for. You will lay down your helmet not in defeat but to unleash a fierce tenderness that no other could ever match. 

 Taurus: You grant your body its right to speak for itself, you’re a lover of few words and infinite complexities. The burgundy wine that pumps through your heart and veins and out through your mouth intoxicates its ever-fortunate victim within minutes. The kisses you allow are accompanied by your luxurious velvet touch that, on its own, is a treasure worthy of an ancient and haunting sea borne melody of lust, deceit, and riches beyond measure. 

Gemini: Yours is an epic poem of magic and thermals thrusting you beyond the clouds and the stars in one flap of your winged self. An intense emotional threshold is accompanied by lighthearted joviality that lets itself be heard through your tinkling laugh late into the night. You are the adventure in any fantasy and the spirit of any angelic presence we have all felt when our wheels of fortune are on their way to the top. 

Cancer: Your gentle caress is the joy finally bubbling up from an exhausted heart. You’re the flower in the gun, the lover that hit the universe. The Valentine’s Day you imagined all those years that finally happened, the ribbon on an exquisite present you almost feel guilty untying. Your quiet devotion is emotional and romantic, crystalline perfection in a tarnished, stone world. 

Leo: The mischievous grin you unveil to the masses is nothing to the intense and yet… Exciting gleam in your eye when you unmask your bad boy disguise and become the gold-hearted danger we all secretly desire. You are the protector of the queen of hearts, jealous though your undying love may be. Somehow with you, the world is perfectly in sync with every breath that is shared, each movement a rhythm of unyielding devotion. 

Virgo: The crease in your brow changes ever so slightly for every different small emotion you allow to the surface. The perfection of each conscious movement and considerate placement of every inch of you is not unnoticed. The free spirit you unleash in your blessed vulnerable moments is the thunder of a rainstorm in a drought, a love with you is one of reincarnation of your lover’s prized memories and dreams plucked from careful observation and secretly tender moments of thought. 

Libra: Your youthful exuberance is open minded with a bright and surprising wisdom. The element of surprise is always packed neatly up your sleeve for when inspiration strikes your wandering mind. Though with light footsteps your travel this road, each movement is meaningful and not as wasteful as it appears to the ignorant eye. Your sweet intentions never turn bitter even in adversity, as your every move matches the most romantic of ideals with ease. 

Scorpio: Trust doesn’t fall into your rigid nature, as you decided it can’t. But how you long for it, to let go of a little control into trustworthy arms that feel of your pillow after a long, hard day. You have the loyalty of the best friend trope and the love of the heroine all contained in the body of what can only be a hero. You do not move quickly, but each stroke of the brush is one of intensity and saturation made with steady hands. The bouts of rash action do not last long, as you already know deep in your soul where you belong. 

Sagittarius: Worldly, exciting, fast and learned are your ways of rash and heated passion. You are jagged bottles wielded by the wild, but each cut of the blade is done out of fun and poisoned only by the cowardly. The jolt of sunshine and fall weather, the fall that tastes golden and slightly crisp, is only the instantaneous reward given before the ride. 

Capricorn: You are the everything you determined they deserve; the want and the need alike. Allowing yourself the pleasure of being the mouse in the game for once, with an ever protective grip on reality all the while. Your intensity is a quiet one, one that doesn’t speak but radiates. It is unyielding and wooden, but alive all the same. Your branches bear fruit that, for once, are willingly plucked with a silent thank you and perhaps a passing smile. Your roots will never cease to grow until the soil is gone and your stomach barren, but until then you are permanent and, most importantly, ever standing.

Aquarius: You take flight without warning, but how any would worship simply seeing you go. A disguised predator in a world of the unwise. But from you comes the pleasure of shrewd sport in the face of those simply surviving. To let your guard down sounds obscene until you allow yourself to understand the truth; the truth that allows you to shed your old and tired skin. Like the snake you are blind before your fresh skin, and you can roll with it or forge a fresh path. 

Pisces: The mysteries of the universe lie within your magnetic eyes and wry smile. Your every move fascinates and alienates and is left for only the dedicated to make sense of. You create a new world for your person, with exquisite detail and an unparalleled sense of wonder. But danger looms in the back of your incredible mind and with the shift of your thoughts you can press the tempting button of self-destruction. Burning bridges is a staple of your watery magic, and you the lone arsonist. Perhaps you could put down the matches, but who’s to say you ever will decide it’s worth it?

Petname Babygirl II pt.3

yoongi x reader

genre: filth..fluff? I don’t know except for the smut, dom!yoongi

this chapter contains a bit of everything, I guess

word count: 10.6k


Your business trip involved boring meetings, some time for yourself and you being naked and tied up underneath your boss.

Keep reading

stop for a minute (and be by my side)  // tom holland oneshot

Summary: Tom comes home from the press tour. His girlfriend is waiting for him. (smut).

read on ao3

He’s been gone too long.

The press tour took two, nearly three weeks, but it was too long. She still wakes reaching out in the bed, searching for a warm body and finding nothing. The apartment is quiet, and still, without him to fill it, doing stupid, unnecessary flips off pieces of furniture and humming to himself as he makes dinner and cooing at Tessa. There are phone calls, of course, and SnapChats, and blurry Skype talks, but he’s busy, and she’s busy, and the time difference is crazy. She changes the sheets one day, and realises only afterwards that the new linen smells only of her, none of Tom’s cologne or shower gel to remind her that she’s not alone, even in sleep. The weather is bad, seemingly mourning his disappearance. It’s been weeks, and it’s been too long.

His flight changes, and she has a work thing, so she comes home late to a quiet flat, the lights off. But where, in the past few weeks, the apartment had lacked warmth, had felt empty and bare, there is a promise in the air, a reminder that there is another person here, living and breathing and waiting for her. In the bedroom, there is a shape under the covers, taking up the side of the bed that had been cold and sparse when she left that morning. She can hear Tom’s quiet breathing, the presence of him, real and there. She undresses quickly, eager to touch his skin, to take his warmth without clothing in the way. He’s warmed the cold sheets, the portable heater he is, and she slips in, sticking to her side of the bed for a moment to just witness him.

He is fast asleep, exhausted from travel, but he’s at peace. His face is clear, his eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks. The gold of the thin chain of his necklace glints in the low light of the room, the strength of his shoulders a contrast against the soft bed linen. His arm reaches out across the bed, bracelets gathered at his wrist from the places he’s been, faded from showers and planes, as if he knew she would be returning, and he wanted to touch her first. His fingers steeple on the white of the duvet, waiting for her.

She takes Tom’s hand, feels it move with her, curl into her, fingers linking. He makes a soft sound in his chest, and stirs, opening up his body for her to press against. He smells like an airplane, but underneath there is the soothing sense of his aftershave, of his soap, of something that she’s only ever been able to link to him. She lets him wake up slowly, indulges herself in touching him, his bare chest, up the side of his ribcage, just softly enough to tickle him, so his mouth crooks into a grin.

 “Stop,” he mumbles, thick with sleep, but it’s teasing, and he pulls her in closer.

 She lets her hand travel to his back, feels the movement in the cords of muscle as he shapes his body to hers, slipping a knee between her thighs, gathering her up close to him. He’s scooped her up, tucked her in, until there’s barely any of her skin left that isn’t touching his. She watches his eyelids flicker, promises of brown eyes, until he’s there, awake, conscious, and smiling at her, watching her from his place on the pillow. His face is soft with sleep, his blinking lazy, his movements lazier.

 “Hello,” she says, a whisper, too much to say and settling for too little. He understands though, because he shifts close enough that she can’t keep him in focus. A brush of his nose against hers, a whisper of breath, and then he’s kissing her, good and proper. It’s clumsy, this close, and sleepy, but it’s warm and familiar. They’ve long figured out how they fit together. It’s good. It’s so good. To taste him, to feel him, to have his body react to hers. Tom makes soft sounds into her mouth, moans from his chest as his body presses closer, limbs twining under the sheets. Her name is like a prayer in his mouth as his hands find the band of her underwear, struggling to push it down her legs.

 “Please,” he says against her jaw where he leaves sloppy kisses, distracted by the warmth of her body, the rejoicing of having it against him again.

 “I know,” she whispers, their hands meeting and fumbling under the covers as she rids herself of her underwear, kicking it down to the bottom of the bed, “I know.”

 She’s heady with having her boy back, feeling him, knowing him again. His hips rock against her, the slide of skin making her shiver. Tom’s voice is muffled against her collarbone as he laves his tongue over her shoulder.

 “Missed you,” he mumbles, “Missed this.”

 She tangles a hand in his hair, feels the cool of the pillow under her cheek as she tilts her head back for him to kiss over the arch of her neck, feel her stuttering pulse under his lips. He knows her inside out, what she likes, what she’ll react to, and his hand slips down her belly all too easily. He kisses her again as his fingers curl inside her, thumb rubbing against her knot of nerves to make her breath stick in her chest. It’s a luxury to be able to touch him, to feel him, and she appeases herself, her hands moving over his body, never settling in one place for long.

Their bodies shift and arch and writhe. It’s more than just feeling him, it’s hearing him, it’s seeing him, it’s smelling him, it’s tasting him, all at once, after so long denied. His voice in her ear as she tucks her face into the crook of his neck, talking nonsense that makes it hard to think clearly.

 “I love you, I missed you, there you go, darling, there you go,” his voice is thick, and rough, and she comes looking up at him, her body wrapped in his, a safe, warm place to completely come apart.

 She pants for a moment, his fingers still stroking her, careful to her sensitivity. Tom waits for her, like he always does, like the kind soul he is. He keeps her alight with purposeful touches. A brush over her breasts, a lazy kiss over her nipple, a glide of a hand over her stomach.

 She reaches down when she’s ready, can feel him against her leg, ready, waiting, desperate but trying to contain it. She fumbles in a bedside draw for a loose condom, the heat of her body pressed over his as she leans over him making him shudder. He distracts her by dropping kisses across her breasts, so her fingers shake as she tears the package open.

 When they’re ready, he collects her again, under him this time, the weight of his body intoxicating, a reminder of everything she’s missed, of everything she can have again. He settles home deep inside her. It’s been a little while, and she touches his face, tucks hair behind his ear while they wait for her to adjust. Tom shakes with the restraint. Sweat shines on his strong chest. Her body opens for him, languid, pliant, welcoming him back.

 They find a rhythm, a dance they never forgot. Tom’s arms bracket her, the heels of his hands pressing hard into the mattress. One of her legs lies loose around his waist, holding him close. He licks up her neck, breathes into her skin. She shivers, and is set aflame, burning up for him, ignited by all he gives to her.

 “Tom,” she says, a chant for the revered, “Tom.”

He groans from deep in his chest, dropping his head so the tips of his hair brushes over her chest, bowing to her. She palms his shoulder, writhes under him.

“Oh, Tom,” she gasps, and shatters. She sees nothing but the blue of his eyes, the red of his mouth, feels the slickness of their skin, hears his moans and calls of her name as he follows her lead, his face crammed into her neck, his body so close to hers she doesn’t know where they separate.

It’s very late. The city sleeps around them. The linen has been disturbed by their activities, but they rest under a sheet, limbs tangled. Hair is lovingly brushed off faces, lips are kissed. The apartment is filled again.

The Wrong Tickets

Summary: Your friend buys plane tickets for the two of you, but she accidentally makes you sit apart from each other. That means you have to sit next to a stranger

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 3,820 words

Warning: Swearing, Fluff 

Originally posted by seabasschino

Keep reading

Venus Signs in Astrology

**Important: Despite the information below, EVERY relationship with love and understanding has a chance at turning into something great. Don’t let astrology hinder you from initiating a relationship.**


Venus in Aries

How They Express Love: Obvious Flirtation, Impressive Actions, Immaturity, Loyalty, Intensity

What They Require: Excitement, Adventure, Wisdom, Spontaneity, Intensity, Physical Touch

What They Provide: Passion, Impulsiveness, Protection, Care, Dominance

Best Venus Signs for Aries: Sagittarius, Leo, Aries, Gemini, Aquarius, Libra

Worst Venus Signs for Aries: Cancer, Virgo, Pisces


Venus in Taurus

How They Express Love: Cheerfulness, Companionship, Loyalty, Looking Presentable

What They Require: Peacefulness, Physical Touch, Luxury, Indulgence, Pleasure, Seriousness

What They Provide: Sensuality, Romance, Innocence, Knowledge, Comfort

Best Venus Signs for Taurus: Virgo, Capricorn, Taurus, Cancer, Pisces, Leo, Scorpio

Worst Venus Signs for Taurus: Aquarius, Sagittarius


Venus in Gemini

How They Express Love: Sociable, Romantic, Connection, Charm

What They Require: Happiness, Youth, Friendship, Expression, Communication

What They Provide: Knowledge, Humor, Fun, Romance

Best Venus Signs for Gemini: Libra, Aquarius, Gemini, Aries, Leo, Cancer

Worst Venus Signs for Gemini: Virgo, Pisces, Scorpio, Capricorn


Venus in Cancer

How They Express Love: Emotions, Shy, Introverted, Sensitive, Worrisome, Solace

What They Require: Material Gifts, A Listener, Humor, Tenderness, Old-Fashioned

What They Provide: Nuture, Care, Protection, Affection, Unconditional Love

Best Venus Signs for Cancer: Scorpio, Pisces, Cancer, Taurus, Virgo, Gemini

Worst Venus Signs for Cancer: Aries, Sagittarius, Aquarius


Venus in Leo

How They Express Love: Loyalty, Romance, Sweetness, Companionship

What They Require: Devotion, Pampering, Compliments, Luxury, Validation

What They Provide: Attention, Generosity, Care, Affection, Courage

Best Venus Signs for Leo: Aries, Sagittarius, Leo, Gemini, Libra

Worst Venus Signs for Leo: Taurus, Scorpio, Capricorn, Pisces


Venus in Virgo

How They Express Love: Shyness, Anxiousness, Listerners, Privacy, Intelligence

What They Require: Peace, Organization, Class, Wit, Sophistication

What They Provide: Time, Effort, Intelligence, Purity, Healing

Best Venus Signs for Virgo: Taurus, Capricorn, Virgo, Cancer, Scorpio

Worst Venus Signs for Virgo: Gemini, Sagittarius, Aries, Aquarius


Venus in Libra

How They Express Love: Flirtation, Romance, Protection, Praise

What They Require: Harmony, Balance, Positivity, Guidance, Sociableness

What They Provide: Kindness, Willingness, Fairness, Compromise, Gentleness

Best Venus Signs for Libra: Gemini, Aquarius, Libra, Leo, Sagittarius

Worst Venus Signs for Libra: Cancer, Capricorn, Taurus, Pisces


Venus in Scorpio

How They Express Love: Intensity, Loyalty, Honesty, Verbally

What They Require: Intimacy, Control, Maturity, Respect, Secrets, Intensity

What They Provide: Faithfulness, Intensity, Protection, Sexuality, Mystery, Depth

Best Venus Signs for Scorpio: Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, Capricorn, Virgo, Taurus

Worst Venus Signs for Scorpio: Leo, Aquarius, Aries, Gemini


Venus in Sagittarius

How They Express Love: Calmness, Irritation, Pessimism, Realism,

What They Require: Praise, Admiration, Stories, Opportunity, Movement

What They Provide: Exploration, Sincerity, Upfrontness, Honesty, Joy

Best Venus Signs for Sagittarius: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, Libra, Aquarius, Capricorn

Worst Venus Signs for Sagittarius: Virgo, Pisces, Taurus, Cancer


Venus in Capricorn

How They Express Love: Shyness, Anxiousness, Seems Cold and Rude, Awkward

What They Require: Safety, Wealth, Pamper, Romance, Relaxation, Encouragement

What They Provide: Inspiration, Wisdom, Responsibility, Trustworthy, Warmth, Stability

Best Venus Signs for Capricorn: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, Scorpio, Pisces, Sagittarius, Aquarius

Worst Venus Signs for Capricorn: Aries, Libra, Gemini, Leo, 


Venus in Aquarius

How They Express Love: Shy at First, Extroverted Later, Curiousity, Adoration, Humor

What They Require: Uniqueness, Independence, Connections, Imagination, Adventure, Intelligence

What They Provide: Spontaneity, Fun, Provocation, Friendship, Insight

Best Venus Signs for Aquarius: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, Aries, Sagittarius, Capricorn

Worst Venus Signs for Aquarius: Taurus, Scorpio, Cancer, Virgo


Venus in Pisces

How They Express Love: Romance, Niceness, Complimenting, Talkative,

What They Require: Emotional Support, A Savior, To Escape, Dreams, Beauty, Tranquility

What They Provide: Sensuality, Unconditional Love, Tenderness, Protection, Empathy

Best Venus Signs for Pisces: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces, Taurus, Capricorn, Virgo

Worst Venus Signs for Pisces: Gemini, Sagittarius, Leo, Libra

A-Z NSFW: Woozi

Originally posted by fyboyfriendsvt

Disclaimer: I couldn’t find the original poster this came from, but I got this from philanddanxreader, I didn’t come up with this. 

A = Aftercare 

While he struggles to stay awake after sex, Woozi is extremely caring with his aftercare. Sex isn’t in the rough range, so pains aren’t typically a problem, he takes care of wiping you both down, and due to the length of time you two spend rolling around the sheets, he makes sure you two are rehydrated before he lets you two call it a night. Tender kisses and soft words lead to cuddles and sleep.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 

Whether it be yours or his preference, he knows you both love his mouth. Woozi loves worshiping your body, and he knows you love it too. His mouth is his tool of choice, and takes pride in how easily he can make you squirm, beg, and cum just from his mouth. Flip that, and he loves your hands. Woozi gets half the joy of sex from your responses to him, your fingers clutching his arms, nail biting in to his back as he thrusts in you, your digits wrapped around his cock, bringing him to the brink of pleasure. 

C = Cum 

Woozi’s one that kind of lock ups when he cums, if that makes sense. He’s not a pull out kind of guy, so condoms are a constant. When he’s close, he lets himself down and presses you two chest to chest, tucks his head against your neck, and pushes hilt deep and stays there when he finally steps over the edge of please. He’s not a vocal cum, more just heavy breathing and quiet gasps of pleasure.

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs) 

He isn’t super secretive with you, he’s not going to like…smash a vase and pretend it never happened and not tell you, but everything you do, you do it together, right? Woozi wants to keep that going, as it is, but he can’t bring up mutual masturbation is lowkey a thing for him. Everything you two do sexual, is done to each other, the idea of seeing and hearing and watching each other fall apart without the luxury of touching the other….is enough to make his head spin.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
Woozi isn’t one of the babies, and he isn’t one of the oldest, but he’s been in a relationship, so I don’t think he’s that innocent. At the very least, he knows what he’s doing, at the very most, he’s put his knowledge to the test. Either way, he’s not going to be that bad of a shag, being the smarty pants producer mr. jihoon is. 


F = Favorite position

Woozi’s a man of simple taste in bed, he’s classic. Major skin to skin is his thing, so he varies from missionary, to you topping, anything that he can be pressed tight to you, but his favorite is both of you kneeling and your back to him. Hes got full access to dig his fingers into your hip and feel your fingers clutch his hair and toss your head back against his shoulder and moan right beside his ear. True bliss to Woozi.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Of the group, Woozi certainly dips more into the clowning around during sex types. Sly tickles and pokes and giggles are continuous throughout sex. If dick and titties weren’t out, you’d just think it was two friends play fighting with how joyful and lighthearted sex with Woozi is.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they)
Fml Woozi is so soft…It’s off and on, and really you have to harp on him if it’s important or not, but occasionally he does just wipe it all clean. Not often, though, but on the norm he does manscape.


I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

With you, Woozi’s bizarrely affectionate. Like forever in that honeymoon phase. Sex is full of gentle touches and heart eyes, and post sex is completely filled with sweet words of love. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation)

Jerking off on his own isn’t a consistent thing, more of a rarity between his schedule and being with you. But when it does happen, it’s usually like…4 am and he calls you like ‘im hiding in a closet in the studio h e l p’. You better help the poor boy.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Again, Woozi’s pretty simple; affectionate, loving, and simple. Tender kinks, body worship and role playing and dressing up, on both parts. He likes taking on these roles, with you as well. One title he likes to play with, though, is sir. Nothing crazy, just randomly letting it slip out during sex and he’s a gonner. 


L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Kind of happened by accident, you two were getting it on and the boys returned a bit too early and you had to pause everything and slip into a closet until they left again. That started the whole ‘lets see how many closets your dick can be in me before we get caught’ spree. That is probably the only insane thing you’re going to get out of Woozi, to be honest with you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Woozi is a very needy guy when it comes to actually turning him on, it takes just the right thing. Chilling around and making out, Woozi’s easiest turn on is heavy petting; over the clothes touching and dry humping is his turn on, the little pleasure it gives just makes him crave the full blown act. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Playing with titles and power kinks, sometimes degrading goes along with that, but with Woozi they’re a no go. Similar to Jeonghan, he’s had enough being put down and teased for being a ‘little man’, any degrading title (bitch, slut, etc) is out of his books. Sex with Woozi is, even in roles, still loving and full of respect and affection, that he can’t bring himself to let those things leave his mouth.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
Again, his mouth is a prized part on him, he loves working between your thighs and making sweet music with his tongue. He’s quite the master at oral, and really does love making you quake from his mouth. Woozi’s a switch, you can’t convince me otherwise. He’s dominant and likes to hand power over to you too, and letting you lay him out and make him shake like he does to you, has got to be top five favorite things in the world to him.


P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Woozi varies a lot. He’s like a box of chocolate, you never know what you’re going to get until dick’s in you and he’s pounding away. He’s like hot and cold, it’s one or the other, no in between. Either he’s jack rabbit-ing it up, quick and sharp thrusts or he’s slow and gentle, almost to the point it’s more like humping than thrusts. Flip a coin boo, good luck.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Even though he takes forever with you, Woozi can bust out a quickie easily. No questions asked, no problem, wham bam thank you ma’am type of shiz. He’s not opposed to them, he actually enjoys quickies, obviously not on the scale of regular sex but he’s down for a quick bump and grind. They don’t happen very often, you can count on maybe once a month. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Woozi’s pretty reserved with his affection, PDA isn’t expressed much, if at all. Risks that involve being seen, are nonexistent to Woozi. It’s just not going to happen. Aside from that, Woozi is pretty set in his ways, if you want to try something new or bring a new element into sex, it’s going to have a lengthy discussion and they’re probably a 60-70% chance he won’t like it. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
In my mind, Woozi reminds me of a rabbit; fuck happy, at least, once he gets to the desire for sex. He’s not fast like a bunny though, he can fuck forever, he stretches out sex longer than you can imagine. Foreplay is insane, oral is a must, sex is slow and intense that he just drags it out. Woozi lasts pretty long, unusually so; pushing 15-20 minutes, and can pound out 2-3 rounds thanks to extensive foreplay giving him easy time to recover before sex again.


T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
Woozi isn’t much of a man fond of toys, he’s more of a character-ish guy? He likes the costumes and role playing, as opposed to toys. Maid, kitty, nurse, etc, that’s more his speed. The only thing he has personally bought on his own free will, was just a small bullet vibrator for some good foreplay. 


U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Woozi doesn’t like getting teased, especially with sex in your relationship, so to him he treats you in the same respect. He stops when you whine at him to hurry up, he doesn’t hold out on you or intentionally continue teasing you when he doesn’t like it. And quite frankly, he’d much rather get to sex anyways, so why tease the both of you? 


V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
He’s unusually quiet, not that he’s holding back his sounds, Woozi isn’t loud in bed. Unless he’s telling you what to do, whispering sweet words to you, or about to cum when he gets pretty panty and a few moans slip out, he’s silent in bed.


W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
Woozi is pretty middle ground on being sexual, he waits pretty long before sex. He’s pretty sexual in ways excluding complete sex, hands and mouths happen pretty frequently and earlier in the relationship that expected, but he holds sex for quite a while. 


X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)
Big things come in small packages ngl i hate i just wrote that…ew Woozi’s not a little man down below. He passes the average, pushing 6-6.5″ and just a hair thicker than typical. Truly something you should take a Polaroid of and send to Trump to gloat, it’s some good meat…mmm


Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive isn’t sky high, Woozi’s drive rides the line of average, dipping maybe a little under. He’s not a super horny guy, he’s not going to hump your leg every second of the day. Sex is somewhat rare? Sex doesn’t happen every single day, pushing once or twice a week. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Soft bub Woozi taps out fast as hell, he’s ready to crash as soon as he cums. He wears out easy during sex, so post coitus naps are a must. Woozi curls up almost instantly, that it’s a struggle just to get through aftercare his eyelids become so heavy.  

Escape: the medical school years

It wasn’t easy.  He’d bitten his tongue more times than he could count. Lord knew Claire could get sharp tongued when she was stressed, but it was what he promised, and he would not break his vow.  He would support Claire through medical school any way he could.  Emotionally, physically, monetarily, it didn’t matter.

Night after night she spent studying in their flat.  Night after night he checked on her only to find she’d fallen asleep at her desk, or on the sofa with a book spread across her chest or fallen to the floor.  Night after night, he roused his wife, and led her stumbling, half-asleep to bed.

Night after night he let her rest while his body raged for her.  

It never stopped, the wanting her.  Some nights she tossed, muttering and restless. Some nights she thrashed and never fully settled.  He would not take advantage.  He would gather her in his arms, and soothe her with whispered words of love in Gaelic and rub her back until she stilled.  

Some nights she turned to him in desperation, grabbed for him, begged him. Those nights he took his wife in a passion born of abstinence too long observed.  

And then the drought would return.

The night before her anatomy exam Claire asked him to help her study. 

“I’ll do what I can, Sassenach.”  Jamie reached for her textbook.

“No.  I need to you lie down, and just let me name the structures of the body.”

He nodded.

“Naked.”

Jamie’s brows shot up. “Ye want me to be naked?  I dinna see how that helps ye study.”  

Claire flapped her hands impatiently.  “It’s what we do. We work with cadavers and study the different systems in the body.  It helps me if I can just go over it that way.  I’m not much for memorization via a textbook.”

“Ye want me to lay there.  Like a dead man.  Naked as a bairn.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”  Claire looked up at her husband.  “Please?”

Jamie shook his head.  “I dinna understand it a bit, Sassenach, but if ye think it’ll help ye.”  He pulled off his shirt, and shucked his pants.  Claire had to smile at her Scottish husband.  Never any underwear. Ever.  

“Bottoms up or…?” he gestured to his crotch.  

“On your back first.”  Claire giggled.  

Jamie lay on the bed, and closed his eyes.  Claire got right to work starting with his skull and naming the bones.  While she never actually touched him, he could tell her hands were close to his skin. He listened to her unwavering voice.  He was impressed.  She knew her stuff.  When she finished the skeletal system she started over with the muscles, then the nervous system.  

He was fine until she started in on the circulatory system.  Her finger lightly traced the veins and arteries down his neck, across his shoulder, from his arms and torso to his femoral artery.  He couldn’t help it.  Claire’s touch never failed to arouse him.

“Jamie. Concentrate.”

“Sassenach.”  He cracked his eyes open to cat like slits, pinning her with his deep blue eyes.  “I ken ye want me to be a dead man.  But my, what did ye call it?  My ‘corpora cavernosa’ dinna ken that.”  He closed his eyes again.  

She continued with her work and asked him to roll over. Right. How, exactly does a man in my condition lie on his front, then?  

Again, her delicate hands traced his body, a brush here, a light finger there. All the time naming his body parts with a sure and steady voice.  

When she was finished he breathed a sigh of relief and got up, opening a drawer for his sleep pants.    

“Again.”

Jamie looked over his shoulder at her.  “Nay, Claire.  I’m done.”  She couldn’t seriously expect him to live through that again.

“Jamie. Please.”  

“No, Claire.  I listened to ye. Ye ken fine what yer doing. Ye never faltered. Yer ready for yer exam.  Now, put the textbook away and let’s get some sleep, aye?”

Claire panicked.  She never felt ready for an exam.  If she could just run through it one more time she’d feel so much better.  “Jamie, you said you’d help!”

Jamie took a deep breath trying to control his impatience. He understood her nervousness, he truly did, but sometimes Claire’s fear got the better of her. “Claire. Come, mo graidh.  Ye’ll be fine.”  

“Jamie, please!”  

Her voice was all Nurse Beauchamp, but Jamie was not her patient. Nor was he a practice dummy.  What he was, was a sexually frustrated husband. 

Which is why he snapped.  

“Jamie, please?  Please?  No, Claire, that’s the one thing Jamie canna do. He canna “please”.  I’ve no’ had the pleasure of my wife for weeks.  So dinna make it sound like I’m being unreasonable here.”  

Claire was shocked.  “What the bloody hell does that mean?”  

His voice was a low rasp of need.  “It means, Sassenach, that if ye run yer hands o’re my body one more time I’m no’ gonna pretend to be a dead man for much longer.  I’ll be very much alive wi’ you under me, knickers off, and me so deep inside ye, ye won’t know where I start and you end.”  

She gasped.  Claire stared into her husband’s eyes and saw the truth of it. The banked desire.  That hint of loneliness that she only witnessed one other time in her life.  

But dammit, he knew it would be like this.  She had warned him!  

When the guilt began to claw at her she fought back.  “Fine.  I’ll study downstairs then.” 

She grabbed her textbook, took one step towards the bedroom door and found herself lifted off her feet by his arm around her waist. She shrieked, and dropped the book.  

Jamie fell onto the bed taking Claire with him.  “Nay, lass. Not tonight.  Tonight ye come to bed on time.  Wi’ me.”

Claire pushed at his chest, but he was immovable.  Jamie pushed up Claire’s shirt and fastened his mouth on her breast.  She moaned.  It had been a long time.  The sensation hit her fast and she melted.  She maneuvered her shirt over her head and pressed him to her.  Jamie growled in response and wrapped his arm under her hips to press her to him.

Ifrinn, Claire.  God, I’ve missed ye.”  His mouth covered hers and she closed her eyes to the feeling of Jamie surrounding her.  Her legs were tangled in his and she lifted her hips in silent communication.  Jamie rolled to his back taking her with him.  When she was on top, he unfastened the button on her jeans, yanked at the zipper and pushed them down as far as he could, hooking her panties with them.  He rolled again, Claire under him, as he helped her in her attempt to kick them off.  

Naked.  Finally.  He nudged her knees wide and settled between her thighs. Tearing his mouth from hers he looked at her.  Hair wild.  Whisky eyes dazed in passion.  Mouth swollen.  Breath coming fast.  God, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And she was his.  

“Jamie.  Please.”  That made him smile. That kind of begging he could listen to all night.

As much as he wanted to draw this out and savour the moment, he couldn’t. Claire’s hands were hot and desperate.  She wound her arm around his neck, pulling his mouth down to her, the other holding his bottom pressing him into her. 

It didn’t take long, and Jamie didn’t care.  They had been too long without. 

Sweet release.  

Claire wrapped her arms around her husband’s back, and hugged him tight. Jamie’s weight was the most comforting feeling in the world. He grounded her, held her fears at bay. She ran her hands down his back, feeling his familiar scars like a talisman.  

“Are ye studying again?” Jamie mumbled, head tucked against his wife’s neck, luxuriating in her touch.  

Claire smiled against his russet curls.  “Latissimus dorsi, external obliques, internal obliques, God, Jamie, you have the most amazing iliac crest.”  

“I do?” Jamie laughed.  “Weel, I have to admit, I’m rather fond of yer gluteus maximus, myself.”  His hand slid up her side, “And yer pectoral muscles are fine, too.”  

They laughed together.   He was her life, her love, her strength, her rock.  

“Thanks for helping me study,” she whispered.

Jamie planted a kiss on her collar bone.  “As long as it ends in a hands-on practice session, it’ll be my pleasure.”

anonymous asked:

could you maybe write the first kiss between sana and yousef?

Kissing was an odd thing. A beautiful, intimate, odd thing. Nothing could really prepare you for your first one. It wasn’t anything like kissing a family member, naturally, nor was it like practising on your hand.

There was nothing like the press of someone else’s full lips against your own, the feel of their warm breath mixed with yours. Their unique taste on your tongue as their hands cupped your face. There was just nothing like it and Sana came to that realisation the instant Yousef first kissed her.

In that moment it felt like everything, her entire life, had been leading her to that point. That nothing else mattered because as soon as their lips met it all melted away anyway. They were the only thing that existed.

It all sounds very dramatic but isn’t that what real love is? Isn’t that what it feels like? And kissing, at least for Sana, was exactly that. An act of love.

Sana had waited so long and that time, that build up, had only heightened the anticipation. And there had been no anticlimax, only fireworks. The big kind. The ones like full on explosions of colour that make everyone ooh and aah.

Everything had been so tender, Yousef’s hands cherishing her in a way she’d never had the luxury of being touched before. His fingertips ignited flames on Sana’s cheeks as they brushed against her soft skin, her heart speeding up as he drew closer. Slowly, so slowly.

Her amber eyes gazed up into his. She found them dark, mostly pupil with the smallest ring of beautiful brown. Sana could look into those eyes forever. Had always felt that way.

Sana’s own hands, trembling, found their way on to Yousef’s hips. She felt the crisp fabric of his shirt against her palms, anchoring her in a moment she felt may overwhelm her at any moment. His face was but an inch or two from hers now, and her eyes fell to his lips. Sana’s tongue darted out to moisten her own and she watched as Yousef tracked the motion with his eyes, one pearly canine biting down on the cushion of his lip. A subtle smile kicked up the corners of Sana’s lips and a small laugh escaped from Yousef’s. They were so gone, absolutely gone, for each other. Delirious.

And then their lips met, neither of them knowing which of them had closed the distance but thank they had all the same. Yousef’s hands still gently cupped Sana’s face and he felt the heat of her cheeks against his palms as he tilted her head opposite his own and deepened the kiss. A small, desperate nose escaped one of them and Sana couldn’t be sure it wasn’t her but she didn’t care. Her fingers gripped at Yousef’s shirt, tugging him closer as she held on for dear life.

Seconds, minutes, hours could have gone by and Sana and Yousef wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Every fibre of their being completely and utterly wrapped up in each other. In the perfection of their first kiss. Neither would ever forget that feeling, that connection.

“Wow,” breathed Sana as they parted, hands still holding each other, not ready to let go completely.

“Yeah, wow,” replied Yousef, a dreamy smile spreading across his face.

Kissing was an odd thing. A beautiful, intimate, odd thing.

anonymous asked:

does Nadia ever wear pants??or only pretty dresses???

Nadia has a vast and varied wardrobe, including pieces such as tailored equestrian jodhpurs and breezy lounge pants (that are somehow still more luxurious than anything you’ve ever touched).

Yoongi x Reader x Jimin Smut (Pt.1)

chapter one: lust

Tonight like most nights you woke up on top of the covers next to your best friend, the clattering of Seokjin in the kitchen having stirred you, followed by a loud smashing sound and Namjoon’s voice cursing “Shit!”. “Joonie!” Seokjin scolded, at the end of his tether. There were lazy footsteps and a door shutting with a creak.

You tried not to giggle, straining to still the vibrating pulsation of your ribcage as against you his breathing was steady and calm, keeping time with his unaffected heart beat. His warmth permeated through your clothes, even your toes were cozy within your socks, your legs entangled with his.

You looked at him, shifting gently and reaching out to touch the soft tendrils of his fringe, he looked so relaxed and vulnerable. You wondered how Yoongi could stay unconscious despite noise, natural disasters, literally Armageddon, what was he dreaming about, where did he go?

You’d fallen asleep listening to his iPod and talking about life, about the future, about the latest guy who’d hurt you. “Fucking prick. He doesn’t know what you’re worth, you’re worth everything Y/N-ah, do you want me to threaten him? I swear, if he comes near you again…” Yoongi had said. “No, no, no, he won’t be back, you don’t need to threaten anyone.” You’d replied, burying your face in Yoongi’s neck. “I need to threaten anyone who hurts you.” He muttered to himself into your hair.

You’d sworn to yourself it wasn’t wrong to still sleep in Yoongi’s arms when dating other guys, just like it wasn’t wrong to think of him when another guy held you, when another guy…

You turned back onto your side, burying your face into his pillow, he stirred behind you, barely awake. You felt his breath on the back of your neck, hell, maybe you were still dreaming too, you thought, until his nose and soft lips brushed your skin, sending shivers down your spine, your eyes wide like saucers.

He groaned, probably due to tiredness, you didn’t dare move, even as you felt something hard pressing into the small of your back. You stayed still, resisting the urge to move or arch. It was, big…

You shook your head. He’s a man, its normal for him to wake up like this, you told yourself, even though this was the first time you’d ever felt him push his hips against you.

You got up. No, you laughed to yourself, this is stupid, there’s no way that was for me, its friendship, he’d never want me like that, he’s just delirious.

You left him quietly, peeking around the door into the kitchen, just Seokjin and Jimin. Jimin looked up quickly as you exited Yoongi’s room, scanning your form for something, turning when he seemed satisfied. Seokjin was busy with a bubbling pot of ramyun on the stove, tendrils of steam curling into his face as he mixed homemade kimchi simultaneously, the smell made your mouth water. Jimin helped to chop onions on an adjacent work surface, his back turned to you, strange. You went to the cupboard. “Seokjin, I’m stealing a snack.” You said innocently. “Don’t eat too much, or you won’t want dinner.” He warned, smiling across at you.

You opened the cupboard, spotting a small pack of chocolates, as you moved to get them Jimin reached over you, his chest brushing your back as he took down a bowl in which to discard the onions, his ample bicep tensing as he did. You smelled the tang of his deodorant and cologne and your body immediately flushed with heat. “Sorry.” He said, smiling cheekily.

“Its, its fine.” You laughed, why was it so uneasy today? You opened the pack and threw a couple of sweets into your mouth. “Can I have one?” Jimin asked, as usual wherever food went Jimin was over someone’s shoulder anticipating bits of it like a pup. “Sure.” You said, seeing his hands still busy. You brought a chocolate up to his mouth and he opened up, taking it from your fingers. You watched with no breath in your body as his plump lips closed around the tip of your index finger, the edge of his wet tongue licking against your sensitive pad of skin as his deep, sweet eyes bored into yours without mercy.

Seokjin’s unholy clattering of utensils abruptly popped the bubble you’d both found yourselves in, you inhaled deeply, realising you no longer had any oxygen. You turned quickly, going into the living room, leaning on the door to steady yourself as you shut it. Namjoon and Tae gave you the weirdest look, as if you’d grown another head. “Are you okay?” Tae asked.

Over the ensuing weeks more and more you would find Jimin throwing himself down onto the couch next to you, his grasp lingering too long on the remote as he took it from you, gentle hands brushing your waist as he passed you in the kitchen, catching him staring at you across the table when you stayed for dinner, always in the kitchen as you left Yoongi’s room, his brows knitting together as he scanned you every time. Before long harmless frission had become secret touches, his hands on your thighs when you were alone in the living room, near kisses, breathless with your foreheads leaning together, afraid of discovery, holding hands when no-one was looking, luxuriating as his touch played with yours.

None of the Boy’s knew and if Yoongi did he didn’t seem to care, but why should he? On the contrary he seemed to be around less and less, you barely played video games or talked in his room anymore, it hurt not to know why, or what you had done, you missed him with a yearning you had never felt for a friendship before.

Every time you left Jimin had taken to finding an excuse to accompany you in the lift to the ground floor. Tonight was different though, no longer did he simply stand behind you. His hand inched beneath the fabric of your top, his warm fingertips stroking your lightly curved flesh, his solid forearm curled around your waist, pulling you against him, his smooth palm flat against the plain of your stomach, setting your core alight. “Time to get off.” He said quietly so only you could hear. “Wh-?!” You spluttered, panicking before you looked up and saw the doors opening onto the lobby. “Oh.” You sighed.

He let you go and you both exited the lift, walking to the point by the door where you usually said a quick goodbye, pretending everything was normal. “Well, bye, I guess.” You said, you knew he saw the disappointment in your eyes though you were smiling. “No.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you around a corner out of view of the front desk, backing you up against the wall. “I won’t let you go.” He whispered, his liquid gold voice becoming deeper as you’d never heard before, it almost rumbled in your chest. Without warning he claimed your mouth. His lips moved against yours and his hands cradling your face as you softened against him, reciprocating his tender kisses, allowing him to deepen them, relishing the way his breath ripped through his nostrils when you took his bottom lip between your teeth. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, moaning at the sensation of wet muscle on wet muscle, savouring each others taste.

You parted breathlessly, a small string of saliva breaking as he looked at you intensely from beneath heavy lidded eyes. “See me.” He whispered. “I am seeing you.” You said, blinking. He laughed, trying to stay quiet.

“I’ll come get you, tomorrow, 8. Wear something, elegant.” He said, a smirk in his expression. You looked him deep in his eyes, whispering. “Whatever you want…” He raised an eyebrow in response as your hand slipped away from his.

You turned, your face screwing up in a silent scream of pure unbridled joy, your fists clenched in thin air. Stumbling into the car park you wondered how you managed to walk in a straight line, your legs felt like jelly. Taking a few deep breaths you started to calm, only to lick your lips absentmindedly and get shakey tasting Jimin’s saliva on you.

Making your way home your phone started ringing loudly, echoing in the quiet streets.

The caller ID read Yoongi, so you picked up quickly. “Are you okay?” He asked before you could speak. “Wh- What? Why?” You asked, almost laughing giddily. He paused. “I just, no reason.” He said. “I’m fine, you don’t have to worry.” You said, meaning it, the trembling of your hands fading away. “I always worry. I just don’t, you know, show it…” He said quietly. At his words you suddenly felt less alone as you walked in the fluorescent darkness of street lights, it was like being home already. “You’ve been busy lately, so I thought you…” You started. “No, I just… Have a project.” He said. “I missed you.” You said unconsciously. “I.. I missed you more.” He breathed with relief, the line crackling as his breath faltered. “What’s got your mind lately? It’s like you’ve disappeared.” You said, half joking, half achingly sad. “Just, a woman.” He said, his tone deadpan. You got butterflies. “I didn’t know you were into anyone.” You said. He laughed. “I, have to go, Seokjin’s, you know. Just wanted to know you’re safe.” He said. “I know. I.. Okay, well, bye then.” You replied as he hung up.

The call bothered you as you got into your apartment, in an impossible way that you couldn’t quite name. You shrugged it off, as you threw off your coat. It didn’t matter if you’d waited for Yoongi to notice you as more than a sister, it didn’t matter that your heart had curled up and died in his arms when you knew for a fact that he had fucked other girls the same day. Seeing Jimin wasn’t betrayal, it didn’t have to mean anything, you lied to yourself, your stomach clenching painfully.

The following night you found yourself with monstrous butterflies in your abdomen, staring into the full length mirror, having spent hours perfecting your makeup. The dress you picked out clinging to your curves in all the right places, the fabric soft and cool against your skin, you barely recognised yourself. You shifted from foot to foot in your heels nervously, going through your purse again just in case you’d forgotten any essentials.

There was a firm knock at your door, making you rush through your apartment breathlessly. You held on to the handle attempting to steady yourself. You opened up, your jaw going slack as Jimin’s eyes widened. He wore a dapper black suit tapered at the waist, extenuating his wide shoulders. You’d never noticed before in such stark detail how square and masculine his jaw was. How pink his lips, how high his cheekbones. He just stared at you. “My God…” He said, as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “W-what?” You shied away, looking down at his shiny leather boots. “You just, you look fucking beautiful.” He said, stepping towards you. He held your chin, tilting your face up to his, brushing his lips across yours.

“I, I have to lock up.” You breathed, fumbling with your keys. You turned, and as you quickly locked yourself out you felt Jimin behind you sweeping your hair away from your neck. “You won’t need that key again tonight.” He whispered, kissing the shell of your ear.

{I really hope you enjoyed the beginning of this threesome smut series, a 2nd part will be up shortly! So please anticipate what I have in store for you! 😇💖} - Admin Laura Cathrine 🎀 

anonymous asked:

So, we know that Coppers are the worst at pymary while plats have the longest range and stuff. Is this consistent across the entire caste system? Are silvers the second best and jets the second worst, etc? And if so do other Black Tongues ever make fun of Bastion? "Look at that poor guy, that aspect is basically in front of his face and he still can't reach it". :P.

Yep! Watch him when he does spells. He has to make physical contact with a material to manipulate it. He can’t hit anything at range. He could also never do anything like Keon did with the waterfall. He can only move limited Aspects at a time.

Just don’t let him touch you. Once he can, he doesn’t have the luxury of being anything but very final and very brutal. I think this handicap plays nicely into his nature. He’s very touchy, very sensual, very visceral. He’s a surgeon. He has his spiderpaws all over everything by choice and by necessity.

I’m kind of in love with Bastion at the moment, I’ve been doing a scene with him for a while now. It’s a long scene. It may have some slightly self-indulgent bits but you know. Sometimes. You gotta have nipples.

dine and dash (stefan salvatore au ft klaus mikaelson, part vi)

Plot: You and Stefan dated for three years while in high school. You both thought your relationship would last, but college managed got in the way. So you two decided to break up. You left to college in Massachusetts and Stefan stayed in Mystic Falls. While you were gone, things changed between you and a certain original, but you hadn’t yet let go of Stefan. Now, almost six years later, you’re both invited to Bonnie and Kol’s wedding. It’s time for a reunion.

Pairings: Stefan Salvatore x Reader, Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: some heavy making out, cheating, angst, slut-shaming(-ish?)

A/N: y’all I love this series so much. I know this was an unnecessary twist, but I think it’s fun. I really hope you guys like this series. Also, I need to know who the reader should end up with. So please tell me in the little area where you’ll allowed to respond/comment. Do you know what I’m talking abt? LOL sorry if I’m not making much sense. Love y’all!!!! (gifs aren’t mine!)

dine and dash~masterlist


Previously

“I picked you. I’ve already found my epic love. Maybe that’s all I get. I mean it makes sense.”

“No, come on. That’s not–”

“And I’m okay with that,” you lift your head up, your face inches from Stefan’s. “I had you as the epic love of my life. I was lucky to have you, Stefan. We get a fairytale romance once in a lifetime, and I had THE fairytale romance. We laughed, we cried, we fought, we loved. That’s good enough for me.”

“Y/N,” Stefan whispers, your name sounding like a prayer as it rolled off his lips.

You gulp, begging your eyes not to fall on his lips as he brings a hand up and cups your face. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. He closes his eyes and savors the temporary luxury, pressing his forehead against yours. And for one fleeting  moment, everything was perfect.


Of course, perfect moments only last for so long. Before either of you could say anything, your phone rings earning a small chuckle from Stefan. You sigh, neither of you finding it in you to move. Your phone stops ringing and you open your mouth to speak only for it to start ringing again.

“You should probably get that,” Stefan whispers, his breath fanning against your lips.

His thumb rubs against your cheek as you open your mouth to argue. Stefan brushes his nose against yours and before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean over slightly and press your lips against his in a desperate attempt to feel them one final time. Before Stefan has a chance to react, you pull away from him and pick up your phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. What the hell?” Damon sounds frustrated on the other end and you turn to face Stefan, a confused look on your face.

“This is the second time you called me. Sorry. What’s up?”

“There was some sort of wolf attack. Kol’s been bitten.”

“What?” You stand up, running a hand through your hair as Stefan listens in. “Klaus is there, right? He’ll give him the cure.”

“Klaus isn’t anywhere to be found. We’ve all called him repeatedly. We’ve called his little frenemies. No one knows where he is, not Elijah and certainly not Valerie.”

“He’s not here with us,” you bite your bottom lip, a dreadful feeling washing over you.

“He might answer if you call him, Y/N. You’re his weak spot.”

“Look, I’ll find Klaus. Tell me, how the hell did wolves manage to break into the house?”

“It wasn’t inside the house. He and Bonnie went on a quick walk through the forest and–”

“EXCUSE ME? Damon Salvatore you let them go out into the forest?!”

“Look, I’m sorry! I was talking to the catering company because while you were out and Caroline was dozing, they were my responsibility! Speaking of Caroline, she is livid and wants to kill all the wolves. Please come here and help me.”

“Alright, we’re on our way. Bye.”

“See you soon.” Damon hangs up and you turn to face Stefan.

“We have to head back,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like an idiot for kissing him.

“Seems like it,” Stefan clears his throat and stands up, a small sigh leaving his lips. “Look about the kiss–”

“I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment. I know you’re with Ivy. I just needed one last kiss,” you chuckle softly, trying desperately to keep it together.

“I’m with Ivy and I feel terrible but I need one final kiss. I need some closure,” he  sticks his hands in his pockets and you give him a soft smile.

“One for the road?” You take a step closer to Stefan and he looks up at you, a hesitant chuckle leaving your lips.

“You sure just one would be enough for you?” He places his hands on your hips, a small smirk on his face.

“No,” you answer honestly, weaving your fingers into his hair and kissing him.

You know you’ll never have enough, but one will have to do for now. His hands wrap around your waist and pull you flush against him as you fight to hold back a whimper. You bite his bottom lip and he opens his mouth, growling as you take his lip into your mouth and suck. You let it go after a moment and Stefan squeezes your hips, his lips pressing against your again as his tongue tries to weave its way into your mouth. His hand moves lower and he grips your ass in your conveniently small shorts. You can’t help but to let out a moan and he takes that time to wrestle his tongue into your mouth. It rubs against your skin, the roof of your mouth, your bottom lip. It’s all too familiar.

After another moment of raw kissing, you pull away. Breathing heavily, you place your forehead against Stefan’s. He’s got his eyes closed and brows furrowed and you feel terrible for even suggesting the kiss. You open your mouth to say something but Stefan shuts you up with one final kiss.

“No regrets,” he nuzzles his nose against yours and you hear clapping behind you. You gasp and pull away from Stefan, feeling more than just guilty with an audience around.

“Wow, love. For a second, you really had me fooled,” Klaus smirks and your eyes grow wide. Stefan pushes you behind him and jealousy flashes through Klaus’s eyes. “Wow you really think I’d hurt her, mate?”

“You’re not the most stable person in the world, Klaus. Can’t rule anything out,” Stefan speaks calmly, but it’s already done. Klaus is angrier than you’d ever seen him before.

“I would never hurt her. I love her!” Klaus growls and his eyes flash gold.

“Klaus,” you step out from behind Stefan, surprised by his confession but not willing to show it.

“Y/N–” Stefan calls out and you hold a hand up, letting him know you had everything under control.

“Klaus. I understand that we’re not on the best of terms right now, but Kol needs us. He needs you. There’s been a wolf attack and Kol got bit–”

“What?” His hands have formed fists at his sides as he tries to control his breathing.

“We can go help Kol and then I’m all yours, I promi–”

“You think I’d want you after what I just witnessed?” His eyes bore into yours and you look down because as much as you don’t want his words to affect you, they do. “I don’t want damaged goods, sweetheart. No one wants damaged goods. Maybe that’s the reason you’ll never find someone: because you’re damaged and trashed, not because we only get one love every lifetime.”

“You’re right,” you whisper, looking up at Klaus with eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “And if that’s coming from someone who’s claimed to be my friend for four years, then hey–it’s gotta be right.”

His face softens for a moment before turning cold again. You close your eyes and let the few tears fall, wiping them before turning to face Stefan.

“You and Klaus go to the house. Give Kol some blood, make sure everyone else is okay. Tell Caroline and Damon to go about the day as it’s planned. I’ll make my way over later. I just need some time alone,” you give Stefan a tight-lipped smile and turned back to Klaus. “Go save your brother. There’s no need for more people to be hurt by you today.”

You walk away, Stefan and Klaus making no effort to stop you. One of them because he knows better and the other because his ego is mighty. You hear a whoosh of air and you know they’ve gone to the house. Once again, your phone rings and you see it’s Damon.

“Look, Damon I’m sorry that I couldn’t come with the other two, but–”

“What?! Y/N where are you?”

“Damon I’m by the cemetery. Why? What’s going on?”

“Are you with Klaus or Stefan?”

“No, I just sent them over to the house to give Kol some blood. Why–?”

“Kol is hallucinating. He managed to subdue everyone at the house and is hell-bent on finding you. Listen to me.”

Originally posted by lovekolmikaelsonstuff

You feel a light wind behind you and your phone is knocked out of your hand. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

“Y/N. We meet again,” Kol flips you around, eyes pitch black as his hands encircle your upper arms.

“Y/N? Are you there?” You hear Damon calling out for you, a small smirk on Kol’s face as he grabs the phone and answers, licking a small stripe along the side of your neck.

“She’s here, Damon,” Kol chuckles as Damon curses on the other end. “And I bet she tastes absolutely delicious.”

Kol throws the phone on the ground and rushes you against a tree, your back against the base and your heart in your throat as you notice the dark look in his eyes.

“I’m going to drain every ounce of your blood. You think that’ll teach my brother a lesson?” You barely have time to scream as Kol sinks his teeth into your neck and draining you like he promised, the pain alone causing you to black out.

10

Blue

“She was wrapped in blue. The kind of blue, at that place, where you can’t tell the sea from the sky. She was the sea. She was the sky. The blue was her tribal skin. But she didn’t know it yet.”

I’ve always been a city girl; born and brought up here. I’ve spent my childhood evenings playing lagori, lukka-chuppi, badminton, antakshari, pakda-pakdi, sakli below my building, where we had a small, namesake ground. And if and when we craved for a different space to play in, we took over the building terrace(if we were lucky, the watchman would’ve forgotten to lock it that evening). Sometimes we got lucky, but most times we didn’t. If the grounds got too boring, and the terrace locked, we would diligently go over to every one of our friends’ homes, till at least one of our mothers allowed us to play inside the house. But of course we couldn’t run and jump inside the house, so we would quietly(or not) sit in a corner assigned to us and invent games to keep ourselves entertained. We would play till around 8, and if we hadn’t been summoned home as yet, we would all sit and watch an episode each of Popeye and Scooby dooby doo. 
This was pretty much our playtime routine back then.


The summer vacations were a lot more stifling. I spent hours immersed in Enid Blyton books while growing up. I craved for the kind of adventures the characters in Secret Seven and Famous Five had. I craved to live in the kind of countryside they lived in. I craved to aimlessly ride my cycle, pluck fresh fruits from trees, get lost in fields, have lakeside picnics with my best friends. I craved for spaces I could call my own, nooks and corners of the woods only I knew about, go hiking in the woods with my friends, find pretty spots where we could break for some delicious snacks. I craved to climb trees, eat freshly plucked fruits, make a bouquet of fresh flowers and get them home to mom, play in a stream, come back home tired and thirsty and hungry after a long day of doing all of these.

But there I was, in a place I can confidently say was the opposite of what I craved for. There was no countryside, no woods, no deserted cabins, hardly any trees at all, no empty roads to cycle on, no picnic spots, no pretty lakes.
So we made do with what little we had- the ground, the occasional terrace, and corners of our tiny homes.
I lived after all in the heart of Bombay.

—-

This year, I spent around two months in the forest areas of Wayanad in Kerala. Wayanad is one of the most beautiful places in India, and is known for its rich, wild forests. Wayanad has almost 10 different types of tribes that live in different parts of the district.
I spent most of my time there with the tribal people, and even lived with them for several days, in their settlements.
It took me several days to meet locals, become friends with them, get accustomed to my new surroundings, and for them to be comfortable and open up around a non-local. It was slightly challenging, but I had help from my relatives who lived in the same area, and some friends as well. Fortunately for me, it all worked out smoothly.

The first thing I registered when I went there the first time was that there was nothing around me but lush green foliage and acres and acres of untouched forest land. I had in front of me everything I had craved for since a long long time. But these new surroundings felt so alien to me. Suddenly I was at a loss for what to do or how to be. It felt odd walking around without footwear, with my bare feet touching the soft soil and delicate grass. It seemed odd but luxurious to sit under any tree I wanted to or to sit on the rock by the stream with my feet dipped in the cold water.

It took me a couple of weeks to get accustomed to my new surroundings. I made several tribal friends..gradually, but very very happily eased into my new surroundings, sat outside tribal huts chatting with them for hours(it helped that I’m Malayali, so communicating with them was not a problem), played with the children, chased chickens, sang with them, learnt not to be around river banks in the evenings because that’s when the wild elephants come down to the river to quench their thirst, learnt so many little tricks and secrets of the forests from them..


It was possibly the most beautiful months I’ve had in a very long time. It was the first time in my life I lived away from a city that long. And I couldn’t be happier that I did, even though it was only for those two months.
That’s the thing about having lived in a city your entire life; you are so deeply cut off from nature, you don’t know what to do or how to be when you’re put in the heart of it. You feel uneasy, because for so long you have lived only in an urban jungle.

This post is an ode to my newfound tribal skin. Blue





Photographs by the awesome Ajay Koli :*

I don’t know about kings, but I’ll help you

A sequel to “A gift for a girl who no longer exists”. I just couldn’t leave Sansa that unhappy! So here is Jon brushing Sansa’s hair. :) This is a bit of a remix of one of the first chapters of a WIP. Thanks again to @dragonchristianlady97 for the lovely “Jon likes to brush Sansa’s hair” headcanon!

***

Sansa tried to be scrupulous about appearances. They mattered. She knew that better than most. The Lannisters had wrapped her in lions, complete with teeth and claws, the day she wed Tyrion. She’d worn her own dress emblazoned with a wolf when staring Ramsay down, and she’d drawn strength from it.

So she was angry she’d let her hair get away from her. The past week hadn’t given any of them a moment’s rest. A raven had come to Winterfell heralding the arrival of Daenerys Targaryen. Sansa heard whispers of the queen’s beauty, even this far north. She’d thought herself past vanity. Apparently she’d been mistaken. She was vain enough to want her hair to shine like burnished copper, as it had when her mother brushed it, so she could greet the queen with confidence. But late nights and early mornings had forced her to braid her hair quickly, to keep it out of the way of the maps spread out hastily in Winterfell’s great hall.

Now it was tangled, hopelessly, in the back. She was standing, scowling at her reflection. I don’t have time for this.

She heard a knock at the door. “Sansa, it’s Jon. May I come in?” She almost turned him away. But the news he carried could be important, and she couldn’t shut herself in her room forever.

“Yes, come in please, Jon.” He closed the door, cutting off the colder air from the hallway. Sansa cursed as the brush got stuck once again. Jon seemed shocked. She’d probably never cursed in front of him before.

“Sansa, what’s wrong?”

Sansa was too tired to lie. She’d have to tell him. She sighed, setting the brush down. “Jon, promise, please, not to laugh.” Jon looked about as far away from laughing as possible, but then again, he usually looked solemn. “I won’t, Sansa.”

“It’s-“ Sansa gestured fruitlessly to the back of her head. “My hair, Jon, it’s tangled, and I can’t brush through it. And no, I can’t ask a lady’s maid for help, I can’t ask anyone for help, because I can’t let them-“

Jon strode across the room, and his arms were around her before she could get out the rest of the warning. Sansa stiffened, and Jon loosened his grip, ready to release her. He felt…good, warm and solid, and Sansa focused on her breathing. He won’t hurt me. He won’t. She gathered up her courage and leaned into him. Jon held her a little tighter, and waited. She sensed he was ready to stand there all night, even all week.

“Sansa, you don’t have to explain.” Jon’s voice was low, and soft, and she could feel his words reverberate in his chest. She held on to his shirt with one hand. “I just – if there’s anything I can do, to help you, please tell me.”

Sansa focused on the feel of Jon’s stubble against her cheek, and the scent of leather that clung to him. Maybe she could make a jest, to get out the mess she’d found herself in. “Do kings brush hair?”

Jon tilted his ear towards her. “Hm?” She couldn’t blame him. She’d spoken directly into the fabric of his shirt. She pulled back, and tried for lightness. “Kings. Do they brush hair?”

She waited for a hint of a smile. Instead Jon held her gaze, his eyes dark and serious. “I don’t know about kings, Sansa, but I’d try, if you wanted.”

Sansa didn’t trust herself to speak just then, so she reached for the silver brush on her table. Her hand shook slightly. She held it out to him. Jon took the handle from her. He still hadn’t let her go, and Sansa found she didn’t want him to. She felt safe, and wished she could keep him here, in her chambers. That thought led to other half-suppressed feelings she knew she had to ignore, so she turned, and sat.

Jon was at a loss, but determined. He cleared his throat. “Is it better if I stand?”

“It’s easier if you sit in a chair behind me.”

“I saw your mother and you like that, once.” Jon pulled up a chair behind her. He was quiet, which was a blessing. Sansa expected the large knots in her hair were intimidating. She was about to give Jon some advice, to tell him he might have to start with his fingers, when he made quick work of the first tangles. She looked at him in the mirror, surprised. “Have you done this before, Jon?”

Jon shrugged. “I brushed horses at the Wall,” he said, and then shut his eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” Sansa was speechless. The chagrin on Jon’s face was too much, and Sansa couldn’t help a small laugh at his expense.

She covered her mouth, chastened. “I’m sorry, Jon, that was unkind.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s…I’m glad to hear you laugh.” The corner of Jon’s mouth turned up, and he kept working. “Your hair’s so fine, anyway,” he said gently, “the knots come out easily.” Sansa knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth. The tangled mess was challenging, but Jon was patient. Soon Sansa closed her eyes, tilting her head back. It was such a luxury, to have someone do this for her. It was such a luxury not to flinch at someone’s touch. She heard his chair scrape against the floor to get a bit closer. She felt his fingertips at her temple, lightly, at the beginning of each stroke through her hair.

“Is this too hard?”

“No, Jon, you’re gentler than mother was.” She yawned, and dimly realized he’d not told her where he needed to be next. 

***

When she woke the room was dim. The sun had almost set. She could feel Jon’s presence behind her. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not that long.”

He was a terrible liar. “Jon, the sun’s gone down, it’s been at least a few hours. Were you here, the whole time?”

“Aye I didn’t - you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sansa.”

“How did you get out that one huge knot in the back?” She couldn’t believe she’d slept through that.

“I just…concentrated,” he said, and something in his tone made her shiver. “Do you need me to braid it? You’d have to show me, it always looks so intricate, around your head, small braids and large ones.” His forehead creased. A man ready to lead an army to war, flummoxed at the thought of dressing a woman’s hair. She could only imagine what he would have made of the elaborate styles she’d worn back when she thought Cersei Lannister was the height of grace and beauty.

Sansa did want his help, and soon. She wanted to wear his gift, the hairnet he’d given her. But this wasn’t the time. “No, you’d better go, I’m sure Davos and Tormund are wondering where you are by now.” He looked at her in confusion and she sighed, inwardly. Think, Jon, you spent hours in your sister’s bedroom, unplanned, people see, they talk. He got up with a strange reluctance and paused at the door.

“Good night, Sansa.”

“Good night, Jon.” Her hair flowed like silk as pulled it over one shoulder. She looked down at the silver brush on the table. There was barely a strand caught in it. She wouldn’t have been half so careful herself. Sansa braided her hair back to keep it from tangling again while she slept and threw two extra logs on for light and warmth. She slept well, and long, that night, dreaming of copper and fire and Jon’s dark eyes.