#and yet any nearby food is closed by then

[reminiscingtonight]

Guilty

Lia Wälti x Russo!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Tis the season for sequels. Featuring a lot of Kyra and Alessia and not so much of Lia

[The Thing About Families Masterlist]

You should have known better than to trust her. 

There’s a reason Steph’s always more than happy to drop Kyra off on your doorstep whenever camp’s over.

There’s a reason Mini looks like she’s gained five years every time the younger girl has been granted privileges to “babysit” her two kids. 

You have a million reasons to not trust her yet you did. 

Why did you trust Kyra with the ring?

Your knuckles are nearly white as you drag the young girl into a nearby unoccupied conference room. Kyra’s looking apologetically guilty, but a delirious haze is starting to take over you. It’s a mixture of horror and disbelief, but at the bottom of it all, you feel beyond stupid.

“What do you mean you lost it?!”

Kyra looks like she’s moments away from crying, but you can’t find it in yourself to be compassionate. You can console her later. Right now you need to get to the bottom of this and try to salvage your relationship with your girlfriend first. 

“I swear it was stashed at the bottom of my drawer but it just wasn’t there when I looked this morning.”

“Well where did you put it?”

“I never moved it! Someone must have taken it.”

You pinch your eyes shut, praying to whatever soccer gods that are above that this was just a cruel joke. This wasn’t really happening and you weren’t about to postpone all the plans you’ve spent months working on. “Kyra, I am begging you not to do this. What am I supposed to do? The dinner’s been booked! The restaurant knows I’m proposing!”

“We can get you a new one! I’ll front it, I swear.”

Forget Kyra crying, you’re going to cry. 

“Unless you’re willing to shell out five grand in the next few hours, I don’t think ‘buying me a new’ one will work.”

The young Australian’s eyes bulge out at the sound of how much you spent on Lia’s ring. 

It’s not a well kept secret that you were going to propose. You and Lia have been together for years now, married in every way except for the official one. Wedding plans have already been discussed, from venues to food to the invitation list. The last thing you actually had to do was the actual proposing and getting married parts.

Though with the ways things are going, you’re not sure you’re going to get married anytime soon. 

There’s a knock on the door but you ignore it, pacing back and forth as your mind races. There’s not really much you can do at this point. The place you got Lia’s ring custom made at is already closed at this time of day, and your girlfriend deserves something better than a last minute generic engagement ring. 

A flash of blonde enters your peripheral just as you make your decision.

“Okay. I think I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh I’ve been looking for you guys--”

“Now’s not a good time, Less,” you wave your sister off, not even bothering to pay her any attention. “Okay Kyra, listen closely because I won’t repeat myself.”

The younger girl nods, determination painted all over her features. 

“I’ll cancel the reservations. That’ll buy me a couple days.”

“Guys--”

“Less. Not a good time,” You repeat, shuffling to turn your back to her to ensure Alessia can’t interrupt again. “The jeweler still has the plans I sent him. I can probably get Gio and Luca to lend me some money, but you have to find where you stashed that ring, Kyra. It wasn’t cheap.”

“About the ring--”

“Not now Alessia!” This time your and Kyra’s voices blend together, neither of you willing to give Alessia a minute of your days. 

She lets out an offended huff and you have half a mind to just strangle her right here and now, your mother’s feelings be damned. 

Gritting your teeth you turn around, not really happy to have to find out what your sister wants. She has free reign to bother you at any minute of any day but why was she so insistent on doing so right now? “What could possibly be so important, you impatient piece of--”

You cut off suddenly, eyes doubling in size when you look down at her hands. 

There’s a velvet box clutched between her perfectly manicured nails, the tiny thing sitting there like it’s mocking you for losing your temper earlier. 

“That’s my--”

“The ring! But-- but--”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Oh god, Lessi I could kiss you, you just saved my ass--” Kyra breaks off, something clicking in her brain. “Wait, where did you find it?”

There’s a slight pause as you wait for Alessia’s answer. 

“Err… so funny story.” She blows out a breath of air, trying her best to look nonchalant. “I might have been-- actually Kyra hid…” Alessia fidgets, not liking the crease that was growing deeper and deeper between your brows. “IwantedtoprankKyraaftersheprankedmesoItooktheringthelasttimeIvisited.”

She slams her mouth shut the second the words are uttered, but no one says a word. 

An uncomfortable tension settles into the room and Alessia does her best not to wilt to the ground. 

You stare at her.

Kyra stares at her.

Alessia stares at a spot past your faces, nervously shuffling under the weight of your gazes.

There’s no mistaking icy stare or the clenched jaw that proved you caught every word of her fastball confession. 

“You… What?” There’s an edge to your voice, a tone Alessia rarely was at the end of growing up, but one that she recognizes all the same. The order there is clear, but Alessia’s not so sure she wants to repeat herself out of self preservation.

She shrinks, suddenly wishing she wasn’t so tall. “Um. Well. So Kyra hid my earrings the other day, and I, uh, I thought hiding this would be a funny way to prank her back?” Alessia cringes, not liking the way this all sounds now that she’s saying it out loud. “But judging by the looks on your faces, I’m going to say otherwise.”

Your nose flares but that’s the only response she’s given. 

Kyra looks grumpy, probably the result of taking your misplaced anger from earlier. 

You hold out your hand.

No words are exchanged but Alessia is quick to drop the box into your hand. 

Just as quick as she darts forward to do so, she jumps back, shoving her now empty hands into her pockets. 

“See, no hurt no foul, right?”

Crickets. 

That’s all Alessia hears as she nervously chuckles. 

Neither you nor Kyra have moved, faces giving nothing away. 

At least not until you call the Australian’s name calmly, eyes never leaving your sister’s.

Alessia watches as the two of you slowly peel away from each other. Her eyes keep darting between the two of you, feeling more and more like prey that’s being stalked as the seconds tick by. “Guys, c’mon–”

“Remember how I told you to play nice with my only sister?”

Kyra’s frowning. It’s probably supposed to come off frightening but she looks too much like a kicked dog for it to really do too much.

But the look on your face… yeah, that was intimidating enough for the two of you.

“Forget everything I’ve ever said. I don’t have a sister.”

Alessia gulps.

“Get her.”

She bolts.

[yrlocalghost]

i’m the hungry starver

[ceilidho]

prompt: construction worker ghost and his elementary school teacher neighbour who made the poor decision to start feeding him (nsfw, 2k) [based on this old ask] [on ao3 here]

-

They say not to feed wild animals. 

It makes them grow soft, lazy. Alters their behaviour. Takes an animal previously capable of finding its own food dependent on humans for sustenance. Makes them lose their natural fear of humans and nearly always results in an increase in human-wildlife conflicts as they start to seek out people. It’s a known fact. You can’t go to a park without seeing it plastered on posters in the bathroom and on the sides of the vending machines under the gazebos where you purchase your post-hike iced tea and veggie roll to eat on a nearby bench. 

You know this. So you really don’t know what possessed you to leave a cooler full of sandwiches on your neighbour’s doormat before turning in for the night. 

He wakes up preternaturally early and leaves every morning around four-thirty or five o’clock on the dot. Sometimes in the fog of sleep, you wake to hear the door to the apartment beside yours crack open and slam shut, and then the sound of lumbering footsteps down the hall towards the staircase before that door opens and slams shut too. 

He never comes home before four o’clock at the earliest. That’s around when you come home from work as well, meaning that you sometimes catch him at the door, him covered in grime and reeking of old sweat while you come flouncing down the hall in whatever colourful dress you’d donned that morning, inevitably paint-splattered by the end of the day. Always something appropriate to wear at an elementary school but colourful enough to keep the kids’ eyes and attention on you. 

You’ve caught his name in half-whispered conversations with the property manager, but aside from that, all you know about Simon Riley is that he works in construction. He certainly looks the part: big, calloused hands with blunt, dirt-caked nails and cut up fingers, knuckles always swollen and thick. Body all strength and brawn. Hard hat tucked under his armpit and decorated with countless stickers from old job sites, the same way his forearm is covered in tattoos. 

You’ve even passed by his current job site once or twice—some new condo complex going up by the canal that’s forced you and hundreds of other commuters to leave an extra thirty minutes early to account for the road closures. You pointedly don’t bring that up in conversation though. That would just be rude. 

At least it would be something to talk about though.

It’s not like the two of you talk. You’re not close by any means. Though you moved in a few months ago, you haven’t had much luck mustering up the confidence to squeak out more than a hi to him in passing. When he grunts back something approximating a hello, it’s all you can do not to break your key in the lock when you hurry into your apartment and slam the door shut behind you, heart beating frantically in your chest. 

It’s humiliating. You’re a grown woman and you’ve talked to plenty of men before. You’ve dated plenty of men before. Just because this one speaks in monosyllables and stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn and your palms grow sweaty doesn’t change anything. Just because this one is built like a redwood with wrists thick enough that you’d need both hands to wrap around doesn’t make him any different than any other person.

And yet, when Simon asks you for your name on a rainy June afternoon after you’ve come in after him for a change only to find him sifting through letters at the mailbox, you garble out something that sounds nothing like your name before scurrying up the stairs to your flat.

It’s humiliating. It’s humid outside and your dress is sticking to all the wrong places (namely, your nipples and the inside of your thighs when the skirt swishes between your legs with each stride) and now you’ve made an ass of yourself in front of the only hot guy in your building. There are serial arsonists with more charm than you. 

So maybe the sandwiches are an apology letter or an olive branch. Or maybe it just makes your heart race to think of Simon opening up the cooler and finding four wax paper-wrapped sandwiches tucked neatly over ice packs. 

All you know is that when you step out of your apartment the next morning, the cooler is empty on your doormat, the lid propped open. He must have taken them with him. 

You smile. A job well done. Apology served fresh, with cucumber slices in the middle. 

The problem starts when you don’t leave him another cooler full of sandwiches on his doormat the next day. 

You didn’t consider that he might think you’d make it a habit. Perhaps that’s partially on you for not leaving a note on the cooler the first time to explain that it was just a one-off; just a way to apologize for being less than chipper around him. But instead of shrugging it off, you come home after a long day to find him standing right outside your apartment, arms crossed over his chest, thick biceps straining against his sweat-stained shirt. 

“Open the door,” Simon commands, nostrils flaring as he glares down at you. He jerks his head towards your door when you just frown, not following. “Been starving here waiting for you to show up.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You’re at a loss for words, never mind that your whole job involves talking. He leaves you speechless though. 

Simon doesn’t move when you step close enough to unlock the door. You try to keep your body angled away so as not to brush up against him, but it’s inevitable. He doesn’t move when the door opens either, forcing you to squeeze by him. 

He goes straight to the kitchen and drags a chair out, letting it scrape across the floor like men always do before taking a seat. You follow after him nervously, apprehensive at having a man in your space. Not just a man, but Simon Riley. It feels sacrilege—not like he has no right being in your space, but you can’t imagine him here, sitting at your tiny dining room table like he comes over for dinner every Sunday. 

When he catches you standing under the archway to the kitchen just staring at him, he barks, “Well?”

That has you scurrying over to the fridge to pull out the cold cuts and pickled red onions. There’s a loaf of bread already on the counter, the bag twisted and tucked underneath because you had to leave in a rush this morning. You don’t know half of what you pile on the sandwiches, but whatever you serve him must satisfy him because Simon digs in with gusto, finishing the plate off in only a few bites while you wash the cutlery in the sink. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole while.

He leaves not too long after that, only a light warning for you to not miss tomorrow’s lunch before heading back over to his own apartment. You don’t even get a word in edgewise. 

It becomes something of a routine after that and not one you have any control over. Every night before bed, you leave him a cooler full of sandwiches and other things like cut up fruit or slices of cheese on his doormat, and every afternoon you rock up to him waiting on your doorstep, demanding to be let in. 

He takes to giving you a wet kiss before he leaves, all tongue and his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. When you try to cover his mouth with your hand, he nips at your fingers until you move them and let him slip you some tongue. 

The day you make him a casserole for supper, he bends you over the back of your couch and eats you out. Simon eats like a man starving, glutting himself on the wetness between your legs, licking even over the furl of your asshole and chuckling under his breath when you squeal and flail, your toes just brushing against the floor. 

In the aftermath, you sit panting in his lap while he eats. He gets up only briefly to get the bowl of strawberries and cream you left chilling in the fridge before lifting you up and putting you right back in his lap. You stare bleary-eyed when he holds a finger covered in cream up to your lips.

“Clean me up, pet,” he says, then watches you with half-lidded eyes while you lick his finger clean. 

He makes you suck his fingers too, to keep things even. He does it when you’re angled half off the bed, thick digits stuffed down your throat until your eyes leak big, fat tears that he licks away, hungry for those too. The man is always hungry, always keen to fill his belly. 

The arrangement continues on long enough to become normal, even routine. Simon shows up at your door every day after work waiting to be fed, and then makes you come a couple times before he leaves, a little thank you to repay you for the food. He never really says all that much when he comes around, not a conversationalist of a man. His preference is to eat, fuck, and leave, which you’re happy to accommodate, still too tongue-tied yourself to broach a real conversation. 

That’s all before he starts helping himself to your bed for a quick nap after a big supper. Then for naps that turn into a full night’s sleep, snoring like a chainsaw under the covers with you tucked under his arm, naked breasts pressed against his side, keeping you awake most of the night until you pass out somewhere around one A.M. 

Just as you suspected, Simon gets up at around four or five to be at the jobsite on time, but at your place, he gets up a bit earlier to help himself to breakfast. He doesn't even bother waking you up, just turns you over onto your tummy and spreads your legs before sinking his dick into where you're still stretched out from the night before. If you wake up or squirm, he just leans down and murmurs, “S'alright, pet…just need a pick me up before work. Go back to sleep, you’re okay,” and ruts between your thighs until he comes inside you and leaves you all wet in bed with one last messy kiss to your temple. 

The door slams shut on his way out. 

Because you feed him, he keeps coming back. The workday passes in a blur: attendance, a spelling test, recess, maths in the afternoon, and then you’re driving home in the same daze that has you slamming on the brakes before rear ending an old woman who stopped two cars behind the truck at the redlight ahead. 

You’re home earlier than him for a change, so you unlock the door quickly while there’s still a chance to avoid him. No such luck. When Simon turns up, he pounds on the door until you let him in. And you do. 

It’s a wonder you haven’t come apart at the seams, horny and pent up after this morning. You were too sleepy to come after all, rode hard and put away wet. Still, you flit nervously around the apartment, looking everywhere but at him. 

He always smells rich after working all day in the sun, like sweat and dirt. It's not a particularly nice smell, but it still kind of gets you going. He goes for a shower and then collapses on the couch after, beckoning you over to you crawl into his lap and grind yourself on his thigh because he knows of course. Simon can probably smell it on you, the ache. He shushes you when you whine about it, big hands fitting around your hips and pressing you down until your clit rubs deliciously against the muscle of his thigh and your head goes cloudy, cheek mushed against the pillow of his chest. 

When you come, Simon tips your chin up with his knuckle and murmurs, “Knickers off, love. Haven’t got my fill.”

He feeds you your own slick from his fingers when he kneels on the floor in front of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders. Your fingers scratch helplessly over shorn blond hair, buzzed almost to the scalp. It’s prickly under your fingertips. 

Simon’s a messy eater. Your slick dribbles down his lips and glistens on his chin. It makes the blood roar under your skin, feverishly hot. 

“Please, Simon,” you whine, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It hurts.”

You feel his lips quirk up against the folds of your pussy, the flat of his tongue running up the seam and flicking over your clit. He chuckles when your hips jerk. “Greedy aren’t you, pet? Didn’t even say thank you for getting on my knees.”

“You didn’t make me come!”

His voice borders on mocking when he coos, “Poor little thing. It’s gonna be a lot longer ‘til she gets to come if you don’t say thank you.”

Your brain goes staticy, fingers twitching on his scalp. His words echo back in your head. It’s rubbish, is what it is. All this time and he’s never said thank you once for the countless meals you’ve fed him. Indignation bubbles up in you, rising to the surface like fat on the cream, and you raise a hand to rub the tears from your eyes, a harsh rebuke on the tip of your tongue.

The protest dies on your lips when he meets your gaze. It’s hungrier than anything you’ve ever seen. Whatever animal lives under his skin stares back at you with black eyes, drool leaking from its jowls. It’s mindless, intent only on slaking its hunger. Filling its empty belly. And it is not afraid of you anymore. It knows you’ll feed it until it’s full. It knows you won’t let it go hungry anymore. 

So, always leery of the bigger animal in the room, you mumble out a chest-thick, “Thank you,” and shiver when he grins. 

There’s a reason they tell you not to feed strays. They often come back for more.

[cowboybeepboop]

Perfection

 "I'll have to try even harder next time then. Can't have you downgrading me to just 'good' after all.”

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader 

Genre: smut

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: You’re Sergei’s closest (and only) friend, one night things become more than just friendly.

a/n: as always send any request you have my way! I’ll get to them asap 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the foliage above, you felt an eerie presence nearby. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught a flicker of movement among the trees. It was Sergei, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. 

You'd found him in this very forest when he had first left home, and now, years later, he remained a silent guardian. 

Sergei stood amidst the shadows of the forest, his form blending seamlessly with the surrounding foliage. His gaze lingered on you, studying your every detail. The familiar scent of the forest and your presence filled his senses, stirring a mix of nostalgia and concern within him.

"You've been here a while," he observed, his voice a low rumble. "Looking for something?"

"Just watching," you murmur, standing as he approaches your side. you brush your hands over your jeans, grinning as you look up at him. 

Sergei, towering above you, stands close enough that you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes study your every movement, taking in the way your hands brush over your jeans. A faint smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Watching, eh?" he remarks, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate through the forest around you. "Find anything interesting?"

"Not particularly, well at least not before you showed up," you observe his strong features in the sunlight, hands aching to touch him.

Sergei's smirk widens as he notices the way your eyes roam over his features, taking in the play of sunlight on his chiseled face. He can feel the subtle tension rising between you, a familiar pull that has always been there.

"Is that right?" he responds in a low, amused tone. "So, I'm more interesting than the scenery then?"

"But of course," you glance around, "the forest doesn't exactly talk back, does it?" 

Sergei's lips quirk into a crooked smile as he considers your retort. His eyes follow the movement of your gaze, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

"True, the forest is a silent spectator." he muses, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "But I happen to be a little more engaging than a few trees and squirrels."

Then, his tone shifts slightly, a touch more commanding yet laced with an underlying softness. "You should join me for dinner. It's late, and I doubt you've eaten anything substantial."

"What's on the menu?" you grin, linking your arm with his as he begins to guide you to his home.

As you link your arm with his, Sergei lets out a chuckle at your question. It was never a struggle to get you to come along when food was involved.

"Nothing fancy, just a simple meal," he replies, his hand instinctively resting on top of yours as he guides you through the trail he and his family had made years before. "Some stew from a rabbit I caught earlier, fresh bread, and maybe a few berries if I can find any."

"Sounds perfect, Sergei." you lean your head against his shoulder, enjoying the heat that's radiating off of him. 

As your head rests on his shoulder, Sergei glances down at you, a warm smile playing on his lips. The familiarity of your touch and the way you lean into him stirs emotions within him. He'd always been protective of you, seeing you as someone he needed to keep safe.

He continues to guide you along the path, the sound of nocturnal creatures filling the night air. "You're quiet tonight," he notes, his voice gentle. "Everything alright?"

Your eyes widen as he catches on to your distracted mind, thoughts filled with the idea of being in his home and surrounded by his scent rather than making conversations. "Of course..." you murmur, "Just a little.. preoccupied." you grin up at him 

Sergei narrows his eyes slightly, a mix of concern and curiosity in his gaze. Your vague answer and the hint of a grin on your face pique his interest, making him even more curious.

"Preoccupied, hm?" he muses, a hint of humor in his voice. "With what exactly?" His arm tightens its hold on you, pulling you closer as if to physically keep you from drifting away in thought.

"That's a secret," you retort, eyes glued on the building ahead of the both of you, Sergei finally guiding you inside his home. 

Sergei's smirk only widens at your response, your words fueling the curiosity further. He watches the way your eyes dart towards his home, knowing exactly what you're thinking. With a slight chuckle, he leads you inside.

The interior is cozy and warm, lit by a few oil lamps that cast a soft, flickering glow over the room. The scent of woodsmoke and herbs fills the air. Sergei closes the door behind you, locking it securely.

"A secret, huh?" he muses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now you've got me genuinely intrigued."

You take a seat on the couch, relaxing into the plush fabric. "I'll tell you after dinner, I'm too hungry to wait." you pull a blanket over your body, instantly making yourself at home in the familiar environment. 

Sergei watches as you settle into the couch, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Your ability to make yourself at home in his space doesn't go unnoticed, and he finds it almost endearing.

"Fair enough," he smirks, moving towards the small kitchenette area. "Dinner won't take too long. I promise I'll have you spilling your secrets soon enough." He grabs a few items from his cupboards and sets to work on preparing the meal.

"Take your time pretty boy," you murmur, eyes glued to his back as he moves around the kitchen.

Sergei's shoulders visibly tense for a moment as your voice drifts over to him, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. Your playful nickname causes a familiar heat to rise up within him, and he can feel your gaze on his back.

Without turning around, he responds in a low, teasing tone, "Careful, I might get used to the praise."

"Youre right, I cant inflate your ego too much." you giggle softly. He finally finishes the meal, bringing you a bowl of the stew.

Sergei carries the bowl of warm stew back to the living area, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he sets it down in front of you. He doesn't miss the way your eyes light up at the sight and smell of the food, and it only adds to his amusement.

"Here," he says, placing the bowl gently in your hands. "Be careful, it's still hot."

Once you have the bowl securely in your grasp, Sergei takes a step back, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. He watches you closely, his gaze taking in every movement, as you bring the spoon to your lips and take a tentative taste of the stew.

"It's perfect Sergei, amazing." you hum in satisfaction, your eyes meeting his while you enjoy the meal he prepared.

Sergei's smirk blossoms into a satisfied smile as he watches you relish the meal. Hearing your genuine praise and seeing the contentment on your face brings a sense of satisfaction to him. 

"Glad you like it," he replies, leaning back a bit as he observes you. His smirk morphs into a wry grin, and he adds, "I promise I didn't poison it."

"Well of course not, you can't go poisoning your only friend." the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you finish your meals. Once you place the empty bowl on the coffee table you feel the intense stare boring into the side of your head, Sergei watching your every move.

As you set your empty bowl aside, you can feel Sergei's intense gaze on you. His eyes meticulously watch you, cataloging every movement, every flicker of emotion that passes across your face. Being the center of his unblinking attention is a sensation that never fails to awaken the butterflies in your stomach.

After a moment, he breaks the silence. His voice is low, with a hint of huskiness in his tone. "So... about that little secret you've been holding onto..."

"Well, I was thinking.. about asking you if I could stay here for the night." you turn to him, expression pleading. "Look I know it's a little inconvenient-" he interrupts you.

Before you can finish your statement, Sergei cuts you off. You sense a hint of surprise mixed with something else in his expression, but it's quickly concealed behind his usual smirk.

He crosses his arms over his chest, a slightly challenging look in his eyes. "Let me get this straight," he says, his voice taking on a dry edge. "You want to... crash here for the night, no explanation?"

"Well I was going to explain but you interrupted.." you murmur, voice soft as your gaze falls to your hands. "It's just I really like spending time with you.." 

Sergei's expression softens as he hears the note of disappointment in your voice. The hint of challenge in his eyes fades, replaced by a touch of guilt. He doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on your lowered hands.

After a moment, he sighs heavily, his voice holding a hint of resignation. "So, that's your big secret then? You just want more time with me?"

"Yes.." you whisper, silently cursing yourself for ever bringing it up. You always knew that your affections were one sided yet the confirmation of it hurts more than you were anticipating. 

Sergei's eyes are unreadable as he absorbs your words, his expression neutral. A moment of silence follows, the only sound in the room the soft crackle of the fireplace. His gaze is fixed on you, studying your expression and the subtle change in your demeanor.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than usual, a hint of sympathy lacing his words. "Is that the only reason? You just... want to be around me more?"

"I like your company, you're comfortable, *familiar*." you carefully gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes. 

A muscle in Sergei's jaw clenches as he looks down at you, your big, pleading eyes meeting his. The sight stirs something within him, but he's not entirely sure what it is. 

After a moment, he lets out a heavy sigh, his expression a mix of resignation and something else. "Fine," he mutters, looking away. "You can stay here whenever. But only on one condition."

"Anything you want." you smile, moving closer to him, your eyes filled with excitement. 

Sergei notices the way you shift closer to him, the gleam of excitement in your eyes making it obvious how much you want to be close to him. He lets out a huff, pretending to be nonchalant.

"Anything, huh?" he muses, his voice a low rumble. "Careful, you're giving me free reign to make all sorts of demands now."

"You're free to make any demands, it is your house after all." you bring your hands to his knees, fingers gently digging into his clothed skin. "But what is your condition?"

As you place your hands on his knees and dig your fingers into his skin, Sergei can feel a slight shiver run down his spine. The mixture of surprise and a sudden flare of heat takes him momentarily off guard, and he has to force himself to focus on the conversation. 

He takes a moment to reply, eyes flickering down to your fingers before fixing on your face again. "My condition..."

He pauses, swallowing back a sharp reply and instead opting for a straightforward request. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then where will I sleep?" your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you move closer.

Your closeness causes Sergei's breath to hitch ever so slightly, his eyes roaming over your face as you approach. He takes a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. 

"You can take my bed," he says bluntly, his gaze not wavering from yours. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"No," you begin to protest, "can we share the bed? I don't want to steal it from you..."

Sergei blinks, clearly not expecting your response. The idea of sharing his bed with you had never occurred to him before, but now that you've suggested it, he can't deny the spark of heat it ignites within him.

He clears his throat, trying to maintain his cool composure. "You... want to share the bed?" he repeats, his voice a touch huskier than usual.

"Yes.." you grin sweetly, "I'd love to." Sergei can feel the heat rising in his cheeks as you grin sweetly up at him, your eagerness obvious. The thought of sharing his bed with you - of having you that close to him for an entire night - is suddenly far more appealing than he wants to admit. 

He swallows, trying to regain some sense of control. "Very well," he manages, his voice rough. "You can share the bed with me, then."

"Shall we head to bed then? It is getting a bit late.." you yawn quietly. 

With your yawn catching his attention, Sergei glances at the nearby clock. It was indeed getting late. The thought of sharing a bed with you is still on his mind, but he has to admit, he's also feeling rather tired.

"Right." he agrees huskily. He stands from the couch, offering you a hand to help you up. "Let's get some sleep then."

"Lead the way, handsome." you follow close behind as he guides you into his bedroom.

As you follow behind him, your light footsteps echoing quietly against the wooden floorboards, Sergei leads you into his simple yet cozy bedroom. The space is just big enough for a queen-size bed and a small dresser, but it's kept tidy and neat.

He steps aside to allow you to enter first, gesturing towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable," he murmurs, his eyes on you the entire time.

"Thank you, Sergei." you silently creep into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed before sliding out of your pants, folding and placing them on the nightstand. You're blissfully unaware of his tense gaze, watching as you pull your bra off from under your shirt, placing it off to the side. 

Sergei stands in the doorway, watching every one of your movements with unblinking intensity. His eyes seem to follow your every gesture like a hawk tracking its prey. Your casual actions - stripping off your pants and then your bra - are like a slow, torturous reveal to him. 

His jaw clenches, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides as he struggles to maintain his composure. He cannot deny the effect your presence in his space - in his *bed* \- is having on him.

With a final small stretch you slip beneath the covers, eyes wandering to look at him in the doorway. "Are you coming in?" you murmur, not wanting to steal his space from him.

Sergei's eyes remain glued to you as you slip beneath the covers, a mixture of desire and restraint clearly visible in his gaze. At your question, he snaps out of his trance, realizing he's just been standing there staring. 

He clears his throat slightly, steeling himself before slowly approaching the bed and pulling back the covers on the other side. "Yeah. I'm coming in." 

He slides into the bed beside you, trying to maintain a distance but finding himself drawn to your warmth.

"Good night Sergei.." you whisper in the silent and dark room, eyes fluttering shut as you cuddle into the sheets. The sound of your soft voice whispering goodnight only serves to heighten his senses, the intimacy of the situation making it difficult for him to even breathe. 

"Good night," he mutters in response, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment longer before he turns his gaze to the ceiling. It's going to be a long night.

As the minutes tick by, Sergei finds himself unable to sleep. Your body is a mere arm's length away from him, causing the most primal part of his brain to struggle against the temptation to pull you flush against him. 

He tries to think of anything else - anything that could distract him from the overwhelming desire surging through him. Yet, no matter what he tries, his mind drifts back to you, lying so close but still just out of reach...

You shift in your sleep, soft incoherent murmurs slipping from your parted lips as you move closer to him, craving the heat of his body, the feel of his skin against yours. 

As you shift closer to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth in your sleep, it takes every ounce of Sergei's willpower not to react. He feels the heat of your body as you press up against him, your murmurs sounding like a soft siren's song to his lust-fogged brain. 

He grits his teeth, his muscles coiled tight as he struggles to resist the urge to pull you even closer. "Fuck..." he mutters under his breath, his heartbeat increasing with every inch that separates your bodies.

Your bare leg wraps around his thigh as you pull yourself flush against him, your cheek pressing into his chest. You stir slightly, eyes fluttering open and blinking slowly. 

You place your hand on his chest, fingers brushing over his abs as you turn your head to look at him. Your lips curve into a gentle smile as you make eye contact with him, "Is everything alright?" 

As you stir and awaken, the innocent brush of your fingers against his chest sets his nerve endings ablaze. His skin tingles wherever you touch, the feel of your bare leg wrapped around his sending a jolt of heat through him. 

He meets your gaze, his own eyes dark with poorly concealed desire. "It's... fine," he manages to rasp out, trying to ignore the way his body is reacting to your touch. "Just... can't sleep, that's all."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" your eyes lock with his, full of sleepy affection.

Your sleepy gaze, full of warmth and affection, only makes Sergei's self-control slip further. He swallows roughly, his hand itching to reach out and touch you, to pull you even closer to him. 

"I... I don't... know..." he whispers hoarsely. His gaze drifts down to your parted lips, the temptation to lean in and claim them nearly overpowering. "You're making this very... *difficult* for me, you know." Your eyes widen as you realize his implication, your body tensing slightly. 

Sergei can feel the tension in your body as you realize the meaning behind his words. He curses himself silently, hating the way your slight recoil makes him feel. 

He loosens his grip on your hip, shifting to create a small gap between your bodies, his voice dropping to a more soothing tone. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just... your presence here, in my bed... it's stirring up some unexpected... *desires*."

"Do you.. desire me?" your voice is a breathless whisper as you scan his features, your heart pounding rapidly inside you.

Your quiet question hangs in the air, and Sergei finds himself hesitating for a moment, the weight of his answer almost too much to bear. His gaze fixates on you, unflinching, as his fingers tighten ever so slightly on your hip. 

"Yes," he finally responds, his voice a rough, low rumble. "I do. More than you could possibly understand."

You take a shakey deep breath, gathering the confidence to make a move on this gentle giant. You slide the blankets off of your bodies, moving to straddle his hips, your eyes full of desire as you gaze down at him. 

Sergei's eyes widen slightly as you remove the blankets and boldly straddle his hips, your unexpected move taking him off guard. The sight of you looming over him, your eyes full of desire, sends a sharp thrill of heat through his body and straight to his core. 

His hands fly to your hips, gripping them with a possessive force. "What are you doing...?" he whispers hoarsely, his voice thick with restrained desire.

"Sergei.. I want you." you press your palms to his chest, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his. 

As you begin to rock your hips against his, Sergei feels a growl rumble in his chest, his fingers digging further into the flesh of your hips. The pressure builds between your bodies, the friction of your movements driving him wild. 

He grabs your wrists, pinning them down on his chest as he looks up at you, his eyes full of a primal need. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he hisses, his voice barely recognizable.

You continue to grind against him, soft unintelligible noises falling from your lips as you get lost in the feeling of his hardness pressed into your cunt.

With each movement of your hips, Sergei's control unravels further. The feel of your body, grinding against his hardness, sends a surge of raw need through him. He groans loudly, his grasp on your wrists tightening as he fights to maintain some semblance of restraint. 

"Fuck... You... You're going to drive me insane," he mutters, his voice rough and hoarse. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?"

Sergei's eyes flare with a wild, almost desperate hunger as he watches you, his restrained power a stark contrast to your unbridled passion. He releases your wrists, allowing his hands to glide up your arms, feeling the softness of your skin against his calloused fingers. "If we do this..." he warns, his voice strained with need. "There's no going back." His words hang in the air, a silent question and a promise wrapped in one.

"I know..  know but I need you, Sergei please." you whine, lost in the intoxication of his body against yours. 

Sergei's eyes darken further, the raw desire in them unmistakable. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment, it seems like he's fighting an internal battle. Then, with a low growl, he surrenders to the need, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. 

He leans in, capturing your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss that steals your breath away, his tongue demanding entry as your bodies become one in a tangle of heat and passion. The bed beneath you creaks as he rolls you over, his strong arms holding you firmly in place as his hips surge up to meet yours. 

Breaking the kiss, Sergei's eyes never leaving yours, he reaches down to tug at the hem of his shirt. With a swift motion, he pulls it over his head, revealing the defined planes of his chest and abs, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. 

His gaze is intense as he watches you, his movements deliberate as he undoes the button of his pants and slides them down, his erection springing free. Without breaking eye contact, his hands move to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt and lifting it up over your head. 

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just enough to expose your bare skin to the cool night air. The anticipation is palpable, his eyes never leaving yours as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down further, exposing your wet, eager cunt. 

He groans low in his throat, the sight of your nakedness driving him closer to the edge. With one swift move, he rids himself of his own underwear, his cock bobbing heavily with desire. His hand moves between your legs, his fingers sliding through your slickness before he lines himself up, his tip brushing against your entrance. 

"Ready?" he asks, his voice a harsh whisper, his eyes burning with need. At your nod, he pushes into you with a slow, agonizingly sweet motion, filling you completely as he buries himself to the hilt.

You nod, unable to find words as his cock slides into you with an agonizing slowness that makes you quiver with anticipation. Your eyes never leave his as he continues to fill you completely, stretching and claiming every inch of your body with a passionate dominance that sends shivers down your spine. 

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, his powerful strokes setting a rhythm that echoes through the quiet night. Each thrust is punctuated by a guttural groan, his eyes never leaving yours as you both get lost in the moment. 

The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, mingling with the faint aroma of the stew from dinner. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the coolness of the sheets, creating a delicious friction that sends sparks of pleasure dancing across your skin. 

As he moves within you, Sergei's eyes burn with an intensity that you've never seen before, and you can't help but feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that you are exactly where you're meant to be. His every touch, every kiss feels like coming home, and for the first time in a long time, you feel truly alive and desired.

With each powerful thrust, Sergei's control frays further, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. His hands grip your hips, guiding your body to meet his with a perfect rhythm that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. 

You moan his name, your nails digging into his back as your body arches off the bed, begging for more. The room is a symphony of your muffled cries and his feral grunts, the sound of flesh slapping together in an intimate dance. Your eyes are locked in a silent conversation of passion, the fire in his gaze igniting a fierce need within you. 

You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge, your muscles tightening around him as the pressure builds. "Sergei, I'm... I'm going to cum," you gasp out, your body trembling. 

He responds with a low growl, his strokes becoming faster, deeper, pushing you over the precipice until you shatter in his arms, your climax ripping through you like lightning in a summer storm. He follows close behind, his own release a powerful wave that crashes over both of you, leaving you breathless and spent, your bodies tangled together in a mess of limbs and sheets.

He falls to the bed next to you, satisfaction filling his body as you cuddle into his warmth. As you both lay there, the night's passion still lingering in the air, Sergei's thoughts whirl with conflicting emotions. 

He can feel your gentle breath against his chest, the weight of your body against his own, and a sudden realization hits him like a punch in the gut. He can no longer deny the depth of what he feels for you. 

The way he had just made love to you - as passionately, hungrily, almost desperately as he had - betrayed his true feelings. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as he tries to make sense of his thoughts.

"Sergei," you breathe out his name, your eyes fluttering shut as you cuddle into him. 

As you breathe out his name, Sergei's arms tighten around you instinctively. He feels a sudden wave of protectiveness wash over him, a fierce need to keep you safe and loved. 

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Yes, my darling?" he mutters into the darkness, his voice thick with an emotion he doesn't dare name.

"That.. that was good," you murmur sleepily, body slowly relaxing.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Sergei's lips as he listens to your sleepy murmur. He can hear the contented exhaustion in your voice, the way your body is melting into his embrace. "Good, huh?" he replies, his tone soft and faintly teasing. "Just good?"

"Perfect." you correct yourself, causing a satisfied and cocky smirk to rest on his lips. 

A cocky smirk forms on Sergei's lips as you correct yourself, his ego swelling at your praise. "Perfect, hm?" he repeats, his voice laced with self-satisfaction. 

He leans down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. "I'll have to try even harder next time then. Can't have you downgrading me to just 'good' after all.”

[worldsover]

Detonation Mechanism ft. Isa

20k words

It's cute, fluffy, love-at-first-sight romance with Isa, but it turns out the kitten is naughtier than she appears.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

She'll be just like the last one. And the one before that. The one before that. The pattern, you've done everything in your power to break it and have yet to do so successfully. You'd rather not meet her at all if it's going to be that way, but the pressure from your mutual friends to get together for a blind date is akin to trying to turn around a tank with grocery bags in hand. You don't know if it's the same for Isa, but she didn't exactly put up a fight to meet, either, and that worries you a little bit. All you knew about Isa was a list of allergies so extensive that it resembled a complex food import document. You were always complaining about eating out at the same five places, so you were at least looking forward to eating at the trendy vegan restaurant she suggested.

Waiting amidst the bustling pedestrian plaza nearby, you double-check for the time and address on your phone and scan the area again. In truth, you want to get this over with. The air is thick with noise—the roar of traffic, people chatting, a street busker playing her guitar under the shade of an awning across from where you wait. The sun glares down mercilessly and your eyes water without warning, the summer heat already leaving you parched. It feels as though the world itself doesn’t want you to find love.

A notification on your screen.

> "you here already?"

> "Yep!"

> "i'm by the sculpture! of the guy! you'll know it's me!"

You do. Or, you hope. Hope that Isa is the red-haired woman waving wildly and looking around.

As you wave back with more restraint, you smile, because how else can you respond to the warmth of the sun—oh, how quickly you change your tune. You smile because that's how you combat freezing up at her prettiness. On first impression, Isa is already the most stunning person you've ever seen. Her eyes become half-moons when she smiles brightly, and you happily melt under her gaze. But then, there are those jeans holding in her thighs, her tight shirt not holding back her smooth midriff. All in all, very cute. You liken her expressions to that of a feisty cat. You haven't stopped smiling; how can you?

The world wants you to find love.

You can't believe it when she hugs you like she's known you for years. Her perfume wafts into your nose, and she smells sweet, too sweet, like you'd probably go into anaphylactic shock if you kissed her—who's the allergic one now?

"Hi!" Isa gives you one last squeeze before releasing you. "Nice to meet you."

You sputter—great start. "Wow, hi. Nice to meet you too."

"I'm Isa." Her grin is like a curly bracket as she looks up at you, not even close to your height. Her lips are pouty, red like her hair, and it doesn't help that she's looking at you as though you were already boyfriend material. "It's a nickname."

You have to hold back from telling her that she's the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life. "Isa," you repeat, almost stupidly, but then get over yourself. "It suits you."

"Yeah? Thank you." Her eyes turn into half-moons again when she smiles and nods, looking as though she'll purr any second now.

"Hold on, let me guess. You look like a… Sumin."

She laughs out loud. "Oh my god."

You gasp. "Did I get it?"

"No, no, that's one of my best friend's names."

"Damn. I thought I figured you out."

"Nope. I'm Lee Chaeyoung. Nice to meet you." She offers her hand.

You shake it and tell her your name in turn. "So, ready to eat?"

Her smile widens. She takes your bicep in hand, again her innate familiarity surprising you. "This way," she says, squeezing your arm.

"I know, I know," you say.

"I'm glad you agreed to come here. I've only been once, but I love this place."

You're inclined to like the place as well—the atmosphere is bright and vibrant, and the energy is positive like everyone's in their element. The restaurant has large windows with shutters drawn up to let in a lot of sunlight and natural airflow. A large indoor tree sits by a seating area next to the windows, providing a nice feeling of nature indoors. The tables and chairs are all a light-colored wood that matches the decor. You'd never walk into this place by accident—this is clearly a hipster vegan joint meant for millennials who think they can live forever if they just eat the right plants—but with Isa by your side, you don't care.

You care. You haven't felt nerves like these for ages. You're blaming your stuttering on how difficult the menu is to read, but if you're being honest, her beauty is throwing you for a loop. You're afraid you'll misspeak or do something weird like accidentally spill some soup on her, or try to kiss her before you learn her name properly, or any number of other things that can go wrong on a first date.

Isa orders for the both of you as if she knows the menu inside and out (you have no reason to suspect she doesn't), and as soon as she starts talking, you hang onto every word. She sounds passionate about this place, which is so cute of her, so of course, you agree with what she chooses.

The dish that appears in front of you, ratatouille and spaghetti, comes as a surprise because you were more focused on Isa than paying attention to what you ordered. You're embarrassed. If you had one great property about you, it would be your ability to snall talk and bullshit; instead, you're all avoidant eyes and quiet eating. You don't want to reveal too much about yourself, how humdrum your work is, or how many hours you spend on YouTube or reading manga every day. But Isa, she's a force of nature that can't be held back by any of your defenses, and you can't remain so closed off for too long, what with her relentless teasing and prodding at all the right times. She has you smiling in minutes.

A woman of many passions, she talks at length about decorating her house, finding new artists to listen to, and recording vlogs for all the countries she's visited. You're on the topic of travel.  "No, I'm serious, there are some nice parks in Canada," you say.

"I could see that. I'm imagining somewhere remote, where the stars are visible and you can stand on top of a hill and breathe in the fresh, cool air." Isa takes in a deep breath as though to demonstrate. "Ooh, have you ever seen the aurora borealis? So pretty."

"Yeah," you say as you keep your eyes on her.

"Wait, you've been?" She's bouncing in her seat now.

You chuckle. "I did, once."

"I'm so jealous."

"It's a long drive, getting far enough from the city lights. Plus, you have to be lucky with the timing. But it's worth it."

"Can we go?" she asks, all sincere.

"Together? To Canada?" you ask.

Isa ducks her head. "Sorry, that's presumptuous, right?"

You pat her forearm. "No, it's okay. I didn't mean to make fun, that would be incredible to do. You really wanna go?"

"Eventually. If the stars align." Isa makes a dramatic face, as if winking but unable to get her other eye to cooperate and stay open.

You burst out laughing, attracting stares.

"What? What?" she asks.

But you keep laughing, and she can't help but join in. In that moment, there's something true and incomparable and fantastical about Isa, and whatever connection the two of you have. Her foot touches yours and neither of you move away. She meets your eyes, drawing you in closer. Every laugh. Every smile. Every quirk of her brow. Her beauty ensnares your attention like a well-laid trap. Beckons you to steal glances, toward her plump lips, her clear skin, the outline of her neck as she drinks from her glass, the graceful slope of her nose, the red hair that frames her face. Her legs, encased in tight denim that stretches beyond infinity, make you linger longer.

"I don't bite," she purrs, leans forward, offers a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. "Unless you want me to."

Your stomach drops. Whatever picture you had of Isa as a wholesome, innocent girl crumbles to pieces, in a good, groin-stirring, mouth-shutting way.

"Hey." Her hand touches your forearm. "I'm sorry if I'm coming on too strong. I'm having too much fun."

You clear your throat. "No, you're fine. More than fine." You squeeze her hand, admiring her delicate fingers and white-manicured nails. "I'm having fun with you too."

"Good! I guess we should, like, actually get to know each other though."

"Yeah," you reply, chuckling nervously. You first share the more basic biographical information: you're a few years older than her, but you agree to drop the formalities as though you were close friends already.

"Oh, by the way," you say, "I'm sorry."

She freezes up. "Sorry for what?"

"About all your allergies, I mean, chicken? Come on. I didn't even know that was a thing."

Isa laughs, and the more you hear her laugh, the more you want to tell jokes over and over just to hear it again. "Well, it's okay. I can just eat everything else. Like this ratatouille. It's really good."

You laugh with her. "Yeah, it is."

From there, it's easy to open up, talk more about yourself when she asks questions, to engage in small talk you wouldn't normally bother with. Just as with her hobbies, she wears many hats in her job, always busy doing something whether it's brand deals or graphic design or one of her million side projects. Somehow, she manages to make your life sound interesting with her unabashed sincerity. The more you ask about her interests, the more your own apathy toward dating seems silly and unfounded, a self-defeating cycle you've made worse by following it.

You're halfway through your meals when suddenly, Isa breaks the rhythm of the conversation with the question: "Why are you single?"

"What?" You snort. "Where did that come from?"

"Well," she begins, setting down her fork, "you're handsome, for one."

You hold back a gasp, not wanting to seem overly affected. "Thank you," you say in earnest, smiling bashfully.

"You're funny, and you're really good at making me feel comfortable with you." Once again, she squeezes your bicep, and more quietly, like admitting a secret, she adds, "And your body is nice. Any girl would be lucky to have you."

You're blushing, if not for her compliments, then for how adorable she looks being so transparent about how she feels. You decide to return the favor. "You're cute. Very cute. And I love your sense of style, especially the red hair, and how much fun we're having talking."

"Really?" Her eyes light up as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "I've never met anyone quite like you before."

"And I want to know more about you," she whispers. Isa leans forward and rests her elbows on the table, fingers laced together. "So, explain yourself, why you're single."

"Geez," you say, putting your hands up in defense, laughing again. "Okay, okay. Where to begin? I guess I haven't exactly had the best luck with dating."

She frowns. "Aww, I'm sorry. That's no good."

"I mean, it's tough, right? You have to meet new people and try to get to know them and they might turn out to be terrible dates who dump you in public or ghost you." You laugh, but it's mostly forced. "Or even worse, there are the friends that you dated and then had to stop being friends with because the relationship just didn't work out, and you have no one to hang out with on weekends. And now I sound like a loser."

"Hey, it's not like that." She squeezes your arm. "So you don't bother with dating as much, right? Well, that's understandable, especially after those bad experiences."

You appreciate her empathy; it helps to put your worries into words that feel more grounded, as though your concerns were normal rather than yours alone. "Right, but it doesn't help when people ask why I don't have a girlfriend, as if having a significant other is the only important relationship in your life. As though that's all that matters." You realize you're ranting too much and try to rein yourself in. "Sorry, I didn't mean to lay it on you so thick."

But Isa is already leaning into your arm. "Don't be sorry. It makes me feel better about myself to hear that other people have their own problems they have to deal with." She pauses. "If you're comfortable sharing, what happened before this?"

You straighten up. "Are you sure?"

"Of course."

So you do. Tell her about the failures, the heartbreak, how your ex was still in your friend group after the breakup. You shouldn't. This is the exact sort of first-date taboo that should be avoided at all costs. But she listens. She truly listens, and she understands. It feels good, to be heard by someone so receptive. There's a relief in getting it all off your chest, an intimacy in sharing secrets—and it helps that she's more attractive than any other woman you've met.

You've never taken so long eating such a simple dish.

After finishing up your meal, the mood to something light-hearted, and Isa asks if you want some… She's leaning forward, once more showing off her breasts in her crop top, and you stare in awe. She watches you take in every detail, and slowly, seductively, slightly, parts her mouth open. You blink rapidly and force yourself to meet her gaze.

"I said, you want some vegan ice cream?"

"Sure. We can, um, split it." You swallow.

Like nothing happened, she orders the creamy delight and as you tuck into the shared bowl, she savors each spoonful with slow, tantalizing movements of her tongue. Desire surges in your lower regions, and you attempt to adjust yourself subtly.

Isa flashes a provocative smile. "It's okay to look, you know?"

That ice cream must taste really good for her, how deliciously she's sucking on it. Your mind wanders. How might her lips taste, feel, upon yours, upon your neck, upon your chest, down? Shuddering at the thought, you clumsily shove a large scoop of the frozen treat into your mouth, only to regret it as your brain tries to make sense of the contrasting temperature.

When your face contorts from the chill, Isa laughs, and then she seems to catch herself; her eyes go wide. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I swear, I don't act this way with people I just met. But, it, you know, feels natural with you for some reason. Maybe you bring out the animal in me. Or, err…"

You clear your throat. "No, it's okay. It's hot. Actually, no, it's not okay, don't bring animals into this restaurant."

Isa laughs—another success, another tug at your heart. Her legs graze yours under the table until every nerve ending is on fire; you and Isa end up having a side competition under the table, both of you taking turns touching the other, to see who can make the other react first.

Isa wins.

Her cheeks flush red and you can't stop glancing at her parted lips.

Music. You were talking about… "You said you like R&B, right?" you ask. "You have a really nice voice for it. Ever consider singing?"

"Actually, I've thought about it," she says, straightening up in her chair. "I even took some lessons in high school. They said I could've been big, you know?"

Picturing Isa on stage is easy; she'd have a million followers. "That's really cool," you say. "Maybe you could sing me a song sometime."

"Maybe. But I might need to be in a more comfortable setting. Like, maybe my home or yours." She winks and your stomach drops again. She is toying with you and it's working, maybe too well. The anticipation of her flirty touches has you wanting more and more, the sexual tension building each time her foot or her hand brushes against yours. It feels like she's already undressing you with her eyes.

"That sounds good," you say.

"Yeah," Isa says, "we could do karaoke, drink a bit if you're down for that."

"You have any more talents or is a million hobbies not enough for you?"

"I also learned dance too. I still do that actually, I'm in a club."

You scoff. "Seriously, what are you doing here instead of performing? You could literally be the top idol, right now."

Isa shrugs. "That's just life. Sometimes, we don't get what we want. But then better things come along. And you get to eat ice cream with them." She laughs again, so carefree and happy—and so sexy that it's hard not to feel confident around her. "You're a pretty good thing, if I do say so myself."

You contemplate Isa's sudden musing. "I'd be your biggest fan, trust me."

"But, you know," Isa says, "I could teach you a thing or two about dancing too."

You imagine Isa dancing with you, her body pressing against yours. It's a delightful thought. Unfortunately: "I'm pretty much a fish out of water when it comes to anything involving coordination. Mmm, maybe one day. I can try and surprise you."

"It's okay. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Or, you can watch me." Her lips curl up. "I like showing off sometimes." Eating her last bite of ice cream, a large dollop falls onto the bare skin between her neck and clavicle, its white and creamy and sticky nature reminding you of how it'd be to leave a warmer mark there. A streak of desire runs through your body, and you almost feel bad at the sudden urge to lick it off her skin. Instead, Isa whimpers at the cold sensation while her fingers scoop up the excess and pop into her mouth, sucking each digit clean.

"I see that," you reply, voice strained, and look away.

How Isa is able to move on from that so easily, you don't know. Your shirt feels too tight on your shoulders, and you shift in your seat to adjust your trousers.

You call the server over for the check—just in time to save you from your horniness—and Isa thanks you with a peck on your cheek that has you almost melting into her arms. The moment your card is swiped and the receipt signed, she takes your hand in hers as though she never wants to let go.

There's a crowd of people outside, bunches of people coming in and out of restaurants and stores, a group of college students dancing to some choreography, but you feel like you and Isa are in your own bubble.

"Thank you for tonight," she whispers in your ear, as the streets are getting loud with all the people. She's warm, and her breath is warm, and her smile is warm, and every moment makes you feel warm. Isa looks at you like she's feeling the same way, clinging to your arm and to your every word and to the promises of more dates.

You continue to sneak glances, ensure you're not dreaming. The setting sun peeks out behind the skyscrapers, shining light onto her bright skin—she may be an angel in her radiance; you’ve never told anyone that on the first date because a pickup line like that would be too cheesy, but you have to tell her anyway. (“Seriously? Fell from what? Ugh!” She rolls her eyes but with a huge smile on her face. Nothing could be more precious.) You didn't realize otherworldly beauty even existed outside of the internet or the cinema, but somehow, it just ended up on your lap for the price of a vegan entrée and some wine.

As you walk through a nearby urban park, Isa squeezes your hand. "I'm kinda surprised."

"About?" You tilt your head.

"How well this is going. I didn't think blind dates were supposed to go this well."

"So this is your first one?" You nudge her with a playful shoulder. "Lucky. So, you wanna do anything else?"

"Do you?"

You scan the shops, assessing your options. There's a stationery store, a convenience mart, and a plethora of designer boutiques far exceeding your pay grade. "Whatever you feel like." Well, hopefully not the latter.

"Let's go there." Isa points to the stationary shop and drags you there.

You browse the aisles, letting go of her hand to flip through the pages of a journal. Isa decides to get herself some notebooks—one covered in red roses and a kitten in shades of pink. You scan the shelves and notice a book on calligraphy and pull it out. After shuffling some items around, you find some pencil grips and grab them for yourself, then find Isa in the pen and pencils section.

"Cute." Though looking at the things she's holding, you're not talking about them.

"Oh, thanks." She shifts the books in her arms and pokes you on the side. "There are some markers and pencils with kittens on them, maybe you can give it as a gift to a friend."

"You can just say you want them. It seems you've got a whole theme going on there. You don't even have a cat," you tease.

She sighs loudly. "No, don't remind me. I wish I could have one so bad."

"I'm more of a dog person," you say, "but kittens aren't half bad."

"Hmph. Kittens are so cute though." Her pout is even more adorable. "Kittens are small, furry, warm."

"And lazy. Mean. Cranky," you counter.

Isa swats your arm. "Noo, they aren't."

With the kitten pencils and markers now secured in your shopping bag, you exit the stationary store and head to the convenience store nearby. After a few minutes of browsing and chatting, you leave with two bags of snacks and drinks. You offer to help carry her bags home, and the two of you are on a bus.

Isa leans her head on your shoulder as she places a hand on your thigh. "Thanks again for tonight."

"Any time," you say, grabbing her hand. "So, uh, are you free next week?"

She shakes her head, looking apologetic. "No, I'm leaving on a camping trip with some friends."

"Ah, that sounds like fun." Your heart sinks. "Well, how about when you get back?"

"Of course! I'll text you as soon as I'm home."

"Okay, great." You don't know what else to say because all you're thinking about is how much you'll miss her. And the ride seems too short for your liking. The two of you are still holding hands, and it feels as if your hands are made for each other: her fingers are warm and delicate as they intertwine with yours, her touch gentle and tender, and everything you never knew you wanted.

"My stop's coming up," Isa says reluctantly.

"I'll walk you home." You pat the bags in your other hand. "These snacks will be useful later."

"Yeah? Okay."

Isa leads the way to her apartment. Her neighborhood is cozy; the streets are lined with small houses, bakeries and cafes, and a playground.

When you reach the entrance of the building, you hand Isa her bags of stuff, not wanting to let go of her hand.

"Thanks for going out with me today," you say. "I hope we can do this again soon."

Isa doesn't let go of your hand either. "I hope so too."

The moment stretches on, neither of you wanting to be the first to leave, but your heart won't stop beating out of your chest. You finally let go of her hand to place them in your pockets, looking elsewhere, anywhere but her eyes. Her red lips call to you.

Isa looks around—there's no one outside at this hour, the sky darkening and stars beginning to dot the sky. She bites her lip—god, how you'd love to bite down on her plump lips, kiss those curves on her face and body until she was left squirming and moaning on her bed. She takes your face in her hands, stands on tiptoes, leans in close to you, and kisses your cheek. Your heart stops. You turn to look at her, stunned by how forward she was, by how good that felt, and oh—now, her lips are on yours. Your head is spinning: her mouth tastes like honey and mint and every flower in the world; she's pulling you down and closer to her while her other hand wraps around your waist; she's whimpering as you pull her body flush against yours by her hip and ass, kissing her back fiercely, deeper and deeper—

You're left wanting more as she pulls away, swaying from side to side. Her hand reaches to stroke your face. You're dazed and speechless.

Isa giggles. "We should do this again. I really enjoyed myself. I hope you did too."

"Yeah," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "I definitely did."

"Okay. Bye bye!" She waves with a warm smile and then runs into the building before you can say anything else.

You've only just met her, but somehow the world is darker again, like you're reminded that it's nighttime.

A text.

> "you could've kissed me sooner :p"

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The weekend zooms by, and the week lurches forward like a train coming out of the station, slow and dragging until it gradually builds up momentum as the minutes fly by. You wonder where Isa is right now as you sit at your desk at work. You wonder if she's thinking about you the way you're thinking about her. Your coworkers pry about what's making you smile, and you can only be honest—that there's a woman who's made you feel alive for the first time in a long time. Meanwhile, you're forced to endure smug, self-congratulatory remarks from Sullyoon about getting you and Isa together. But you don't mind the jests and good-natured ribbing if it means you get to daydream about Isa for hours on end.

Only when you get home after a long day of work that you realize how far along she's gotten under your skin because you haven't been this distracted in years. She's a very well-formed fantasy: you picture making dinner for her, so you're learning vegan recipes, and cutting out everything from soy to eggs—it's no sacrifice when it's all for her. But your imagination ends up taking other shapes too, her sex appeal oozing out of every pore and action between the cuteness. You'd take her apart with your tongue—and fingers, too—before putting her back together again with your dick. When it feels as though you've lost your focus forever, your mind has never been clearer. Every night, you're thinking of Isa before you fall asleep, dreaming of her in bed with you—holding her tight until the sun peeks through the curtains—

> "hi, hi, i'm back. you free right now?"

You answer the text immediately, despite it coming after midnight.

> "heyy, i'm free"

> "cool! i'm at home right now, wanna come over?"

> "sure, omw"

> "great! see you soon!"

Riding the subway, the hum of electricity and chatter fills your ears, and you wish this were a bullet train instead. When you knock, your hands are clammy and your stomach is twisting itself into knots.

The door swings open. There she is. Your eyes drink her in, radiant Isa clad in snug black yoga pants and a loose tank top, crimson hair falling down her shoulders like lava from a volcano. There's your fantasy, your plaguing distraction, your obsession. Whatever you were feeling hasn't gone anyway: everything that was there was real, made more concrete at the sight of her.

You don't really know her, but it feels as though you've missed her so much already.

Isa doesn't say anything. Simply steps closer, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes full of want, and wraps her arms around your shoulders. Your hands roam over her ass and cup it gently while her mouth presses into you. You both sigh into the kiss, and she tugs on your lower lip, sucking and nipping on it. The door clicks shut behind you.

"Hey," you breathe out after finally breaking the kiss. "That was—"

Isa's tongue flicks your lips. "Is it okay if we keep doing that?" Her voice is like silk on your ears. "Please?"

Because the silk forms a web made to ensnare you, you oblige, pulling her close again to recapture her mouth. She's intoxicating, her taste—like strawberries dipped in dark chocolate—her body—soft skin and sweet perfume—and most of all, her sighs—the cutest little creature in need as your tongues glide over each other. Then you move down to give her neck a peck, and she arches up against you.

"I missed you," Isa sighs out.

You groan softly at that. You're in her home, cozy, warm, and familiar, with the soft light of a candle casting gentle shadows on the walls and scenting the air with a floral aroma.

"I literally texted you the moment I got home," she adds. "Sorry if I had to make you rush here."

"Don't worry about it," you reply, placing a kiss on her collarbone. "I couldn't wait to see you."

"Really?" She beams.

"Of course."

She lets go of your shoulders and leads you to the couch. "I'm sure you wanted to plan a real date, and I want that too, but... I really wanted to kiss you again."

"Well, I can't say no to that," you say.

"We'll have plenty of time for dates later. Let's just watch something on TV," she says, eyes crinkled, and you decide that you are honestly fine with whatever Isa wants.

The two of you curl up on one side of the couch, your arm wrapped around her shoulders and hers around your waist, and she turns on some show about a guy who owns a farm or something. Naturally, your distraction returns, made tangible and real as she sits by your side. You can't stop thinking about what's underneath her clothes, what she'll look like after you make her come over and over again.

Isa glances at you, then back at the TV, then back to you. "What?" she asks.

"Just looking at you," you confess as you cup her cheek. "You're so beautiful that I can’t stop."

"You, you're so, ugh, I can't..."

"But I mean it, sincerely." You point at the cat notebook on the table. "You're like that cute kitten, curled up in me."

She scoffs, pushing the notebook aside and swatting your shoulder. "Yah, you're so cheesy." But there's still a smile on her face, so you'll take that as a victory.

As the two of you watch the show, or at least attempt to, neither of you is truly there in spirit. Isa is playing with your fingers, eyeing you like she wants to devour you; your hands stroke her shoulder as if to silently communicate your desire for something more than talking or watching TV; your faces are angled toward each other rather than the television. Your touch ventures lower, toward her sides, then her thighs, and you massage them through the fabric of her pants.

"Your hands. So warm," she says as she takes one of your hands into her own and kisses the center of your palm. "So firm, and strong. It's nice." 

There are photos on the walls of Isa with whom you assume are family and friends, as well as some art from artists you don't recognize. As you suspected, there are plenty of cat-related objects scattered about, an entire corner of the bookshelf filled with picture books, figurines of cats and dogs and other cute animals on every shelf. In addition to that notebook you bought her, you also spot the pencils on a table next to her laptop. There's a mug next to that one, with a cat printed on its side.

Isa nuzzles into your neck, staring at you. There's something about her demeanor that makes her seem more shy and unsure of herself than before. Her fingers play with the hem of your shirt, trying to sneak their way underneath while she strokes your cheek with the other hand.

It's not just her home. She is a cat.

Isa is a cat in how she purrs when you scratch behind her ears just right. In how she arches against your body with every brush of your fingertips against her neck. In how she paws at your shoulders, begging for more and more attention, leaning in for gentle, affectionate kisses to her nose. In how she rubs herself against you like she knows what it does to you. In how she mewls when your palms come down to caress her lower back, then squeezes her ass. Isa, in your arms, is the sort of pet that makes you want to spoil her all the time. You're not sure what you did in a past life to deserve a creature so magnificent and adorable and sexy and sweet and lovable.

You call her as she is. "Kitten." It comes out your mouth like a reflex, like a message to yourself more than anything.

A small gasp escapes her lips, and she looks up at you with wide eyes.

Your thumb brushes along her jawline. "It really suits you."

"Again," she pleads.

You whisper "Kitten" again, this time deeper.

Isa shivers and exhales weakly, her hand reaching for yours in a desperate grip. "One more."

"Kitten." You chuckle to yourself, in disbelief, in awe; how could a woman be… "So cute. Kitten. Kitten." Your lips follow your thumb on her jaw. "You like when I say that?"

"Oh, oh, fuck. Yeah. How... how do you know just what to say to me? How to touch me? No one's ever treated me like this before. I've been thinking about you. Especially when I was out in the woods. I was with my friends and it was fun, but..." She pauses, trying to find the right words.

You squeeze her waist. "It's okay, I'm listening."

Isa nods, biting her lip. "I just felt like I needed to see you again. Like something was missing. And when I got home, I just wanted to meet you again. I know it sounds stupid, we just met."

"No, it's not stupid," you say. "I feel the same way. I swear. More, to be honest."

"Okay, good—hngh." Isa gasps as your lips find their way to her neck, and the taste of her soft skin leaves you hungry for more. "Oh, fuh... you see? You make me feel so, so good, oh my god. I wasn't sure if it was just the mood of that date, but no, it's you, it's definitely you."

Her hand sneaks back under your shirt and caresses your bare torso. But then she stops herself, pushing you back.

"You okay?" you ask and then wait patiently for her to calm down.

"This isn't like me," she says. "Or at least, it hasn't been in a long time, or maybe ever. I don't know why I'm acting like this with you, someone I just met."

As she moves her hands restlessly, you reach for them and hold them tightly in yours. "I understand. And I don't mind at all," you say.

Isa looks down at her lap. "It's just… I feel like I can trust you completely. Even though we just met, it feels like we've known each other forever."

"I'll admit, I'm also a little confused," you confess.

"Yeah," she whispers.

"But… I'm all in. I don't care."

A silent peace of acceptance falls between the two of you.

Isa breaks the silence with a shattering statement even if so quiet as to let the world's hum speak over her. "This, this is going to lead to us having sex, right?" Quieter: "I want this. Do you?"

You do. You want it. You want it more than you want any other woman in this city, hell, maybe in the world. You want to know what it feels like to hold Isa tight while you slide into her, what her cries sound like when you fill her, what it would be like to hold her in your arms after fucking her. You want this gorgeous face right next to yours, her hair tickling your face while you're trying to sleep, waking up to a sweet smile. morning kisses. You want her on top of you, taking your cock, her perfect breasts bouncing as she rides you; to be under her with your mouth between her thighs. You want her body against yours, for you to make her dinner, to go shopping with, to sleep next to on the sofa every night.

If there were one last thing you wanted in your life, then it's Isa. You can only nod, dumbfoundedly.

She smiles, then giggles, and you can't help but join in on her giddiness. "Good. Okay. Yeah. Obviously." Isa turns to look you in the eyes. "I've been doing some thinking. And, um, I want to do this, but, I have one rule."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"When you cum, I want you to cum inside me."

Your mouth falls open.

She stammers, her face turning an even deeper shade of crimson, "I'm on the pill, and I don't like condoms, and I just... I've always wanted to feel a guy cum inside of me. And you're so fucking hot and sexy, and I just want it so bad."

Your heart pounds faster and faster, the same way Isa speaks faster and faster.

"I want you to fuck me. Like an animal. And I want you to breed me. I want you to fill me up with your seed while you call me kitten and good girl and..." After she trails off, she buries her face in her hands. "I can't believe I just said all that."

Cup her cheek and stroke it with your thumb. "It's okay." You nod, and you nod harder as if your acceptance is growing immediately. "Yeah, I can do that for you. You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you?"

"That's an understatement," she admits. "It's crazy. I shared a tent with three friends, and while they were sleeping, I was touching myself. Rubbing my thighs, my hand down my pants. Thinking about you. You're so... I don't know." She shakes her head, unable to find the words to capture the intensity. "And I've been just going crazy trying to figure out why."

"You figure it out?" she asks.

"Yeah, kinda," she says "I guess it's nothing so complicated, and it's nothing I haven't already said... it's how you look at me, how you talk to me like there's nothing else that matters, how you make me feel safe and wanted. And yeah, all that on top of you being really handsome too. It feels nice."

You choke back your response. It feels like you should have something more meaningful to say in response to all of this, but no matter how hard you try, only banalities come to mind.

"I probably need help or something—"

You put your fingers over her mouth. "Stop. Listen, please." You lift her chin to meet her gaze again. "I love how open you are about all this. I don't know if I could even be this honest with myself. Not without you."

Isa exhales in relief, while her body relaxes against yours. "Thank you. I was so worried you’d think I was a freak or something."

"No way. I think it's incredibly sexy." And now that you're talking honesty. "I think I get what happened. It happened to me too."

"What's that?"

"Love at first sight."

Isa blinks, then bursts into laughter and hits your shoulder. "You're such a dork!" She shakes her head but continues to laugh heartily, eyes crinkled and flashing beautifully.

"But doesn't that describe this?"

Isa smirks and leans her head on your shoulder. "Maybe." She pokes your chest with a finger. "Honestly? Yeah. It does. I felt that, too. God, it's so stupid, right?" She laughs again, this time pressing her face into your chest. "We're seriously screwed, huh?"

"Yeah," you say gently. "We are."

Isa grabs your shirt and tilts her head upwards so that she can look at you again. "Like, who even does this?"

She leans towards you, closes her eyes, and kisses you with a gentle passion and small noises.

You run a hand down her back as the other cradles the back of her head. She groans softly into your lips, then parts them with her tongue as she sits up straighter.

"You and me," you say. "This is the kind of shit that happens when you meet your soulmate."

Her eyes fly open, and you chuckle. "Shut up! Stop!"

"If we're gonna be screwed, let's be screwed together."

"What even are you saying right now? You're so... mmm!" Isa lets out a strangled cry as your lips travel downward, planting light kisses on her jawline, her neck, and the crease between her neck and shoulder, before clamping onto the sweet flesh of her shoulder and sucking.

"I'll take care of you, I promise." Your kisses pause a moment, which earns a whimper from Isa as you look up at her.

Once more the silence falls over the two of you like a thick veil. This moment feels like forever, but in the whole history of forever, it has only just begun, too fast for you to comprehend.

"Please tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to," you say. "Whenever you feel uncomfortable, or don't like something I do, just tell me, okay?"

Isa nods. "Of course. Just…"

You don't remember when the two of you started slouching on the couch, or when you put your hand down your pants, or when she started rubbing her palm over her crotch. Your cock has been stiff this whole time, or that a wet spot has formed on her yoga pants. Her juices stain the fabric enough that you can see the outline of her pussy. You and Isa's hands move in unison, eye contact steadfast.

"So you like when I call you Kitten?" you ask.

She whines as she continues to rub her cunt. "Mhm!"

"I'll make sure to do it a lot. Call you good girl too."

"Ohmygod, fuck." Her other hand clutches her chest, pinching the nipple hardening through her tank top.

By now, you're so hard it's painful like it needs to escape or you'll die in the prison of your pants. "You're such a good girl. I love seeing you like this, kitten."

Her whimpers increase in pitch; the shape of her pussy is more pronounced; her pants are soaked to the touch. She's so wet you can smell it, the scent only furthering your lust. "I need it." Isa shuffles into your lap, ready to straddle and kiss you.

You pull back and grab her by the shoulders, turning her around to face the TV like you're a mere extension of the couch.

Isa whimpers. "What?"

Already, you find yourself slipping into your role, guided by your instincts. "You can be patient, can't you? You've been gone for a whole week. What's another ten minutes or however long is left in this show? Trust me."

"Fine." Isa pouts and crosses her arms and leans back against your chest. "I'll wait."

The two of you resume watching the show, and you have certainly missed what was going on because now they're in space or something. Isa wiggles her ass, and you squeeze her hips to still her movements. You're not sure who's being teased more here: your erection might break through your pants, and Isa seems to be on the brink of something with her sighs, with her thighs pressing together.

You whisper her new pet name Kitten in her ear; in response, she mouths out all sorts of names, Daddy, Sir, Owner, or Master. Each one sounds lovely falling off her tongue. With your chin on her shoulder, you intersperse lazy pecks on her cheek or neck.

As the current show about animal husbandry or astronomy or the world ending or whatever comes to a close, Isa leans back, and her earlobe grazes your lips. When you give a gentle nip, she sucks in her breath, and her hand goes to her mouth to contain a tiny yelp.

"Not too loud," you say, gentle but stern.

"Please, please"—her voice cracking—"I can't wait."

"You've done so well." You kiss her jaw. "What a good girl. What do you want?"

"I want to taste you. Please?"

"Yeah? Alright, you've been patient enough. You can have your treat, kitten."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Isa clambers off your lap, and then kneels between your legs, grabs your waistband; your cock springs up in front of her face. Her eyes go wide enough that the whites of her eyes are visible around her irises, and her mouth hangs open. Her fingers curl around you. "You're bigger than I imagined."

You must have an insufferable smirk on your face because she's already frowning and playfully swatting you. But just as quickly, lust washes over her features, her eyes narrowing. Isa's gaze is rapt as she strokes you with a feather-light touch, exploring your length with her palms, savoring the skin stretched over hardened steel. "What did you imagine?" you ask.

"About how you'd feel in my hand, in my mouth... in my pussy." She strokes you slowly, almost like petting a small animal.

"Did you think about me filling you up when you were on your camping trip?" You caress her cheek with your hand and run your thumb along her plump lower lip. "Did you picture me breeding you while you rubbed your clit?"

"Yeah. And I imagined you'd be big too. But this..." Isa becomes motionless, and she doesn't break eye contact with your dick.

"Enjoying the view?"

She nods.

"Show me how much then."

Isa closes her eyes and rubs her cheek against your length. She licks your cockhead, swirls over the crown, and dips into the slit. A kiss at the base of your cock, then another halfway down, and another at the very tip, all in that order and the reverse order and every other possible combination—she plants them all in the span of a few dizzying moments. With half-closed eyes somehow still focused on the task at hand, Isa mouths in the general region of your cock without actually sucking it. Not enough. Nowhere close to where you need to be. Just like the first date, Isa is so deeply aware of the effect she has on you, and yet playing at oblivious innocence and naivety. She's a cat playing with its food, but that makes sense because she is a cat.

You take a fistful of her hair, tug firmly, and let out a soft growl.

With a dribble of spit and precum on her chin, her gaze turns up, eyes wide with wonder. "S-sorry. I wanted to kiss it because it's so pretty."

"And I thought I was being a tease. Come on." You grab her by the chin and press your thumb into her bottom lip. "I thought you wanted to taste me."

"Yeah! Of course, I do." Isa nods. She wipes her chin with her arm, and with your other hand, you point your cock at her face.

"Open wide."

Her tongue lolls out. "Aahhh."

Rub the head of your dick along her lips, and Isa captures it with her mouth to suck. She hums contentedly, slurps on the crown while stroking with her palm. She drags her pursed lips down your shaft like she's worshiping vegan ice cream on a spoon. Isa bobs back and forth, careful at first but quickly gaining momentum and depth. Never once does she break eye contact, so eager to please you, to do good for her new owner. She's the perfect kitten.

You pet your kitten. "That's a good girl."

Simple words, simple touches, but they make Isa whimper into your cock. Her fingers work frantically beneath her waistband while she services you. The sound of her pussy's wetness is almost as loud as the sloppy noises of her blowjob.

"Thih, cock, sgooh," she mumbles on your dick. She spits you out, a long string of saliva trailing from her tongue to your dick, and then she smiles up at you like the happy little cat she is. "So good. I shouldn't have waited this long. I wish I'd done this on our first date."

You groan. "You would've done that? On our first date?"

"Mhmm!" Her tongue pokes out between her lips. "You didn't notice me teasing you the whole time? I swear I was being really obvious. And I was so turned on because of you."

"Yeah? Well, you made me feel like I could barely breathe around you, I was so fucking hot for you." 

"I know it makes me a slut—"

"No, it doesn't. If it's because of me... you know... soulmates..."

"Yeah, I get what you mean. Even if you're being silly." She smirks. "You don't have a problem with a slutty kitten though, do you?"

"Of course not."

Isa lets out a satisfied sigh and begins pumping your cock again. "Good. Because I would've gone under the table and blown you then and there if you asked."

"You're wild."

"You make me wild," she counters. She plants kisses along your shaft as she fondles your balls, her other hand still busy in her pants. "Or even when we walked through that alleyway. Do you remember? You were following me to my apartment and I swear I could feel your eyes on my ass."

You chuckle. "You weren't wrong. It's such a nice ass."

"Thank you!" In between words, she licks your sack with broad tongue swathes. "But when we got to the alley, I wanted you to bend me over and fuck me from behind. Or push me against the wall and fuck me. Or just shove me to my knees and fuck my mouth until you filled my belly with cum."

You grab her hair again and pull her away. "Hah. It'll be my pleasure to keep you well fed. But, as hot as that sounds, I think we should save that for another day."

As much as you want to continue this conversation, and as much as you want to hear Isa tell you all of her filthy little fantasies while she strokes you and pleases you and praises you, there's something more that's been occupying your mind: the pussy that's been drenching her clothes and making her moan into your cock with every stroke of her fingers.

"You said you had a rule for me. What was it again?" you ask.

Isa takes her hand out of her pants, leaving behind a damp stain on her pants, and licks them clean, like cleaning a mess of vegan ice cream—the image stuck with you quite profoundly—two fingers in her mouth, in and out, in and out, over and over until she finally pulls them out with a wet pop. "Oh yeah, that. I was having such a good time I forgot. But I… I just need it inside me so bad. I've been craving it forever. I can't believe how horny I am."

"That's not all you said though. You wanted me to do something for you, right?"

"Yeah. Right. I want to..." She falters as if the words have become foreign to her at this moment. Isa opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, and closes it again before finally spitting them out: "I want to feel you cum inside me."

"That's it." You grab her hand. "I'm not just going to cum inside you though. I'm going to breed you. I'm going to make sure your womb is nice and full of my cum. How does that sound?"

"Yeah." Isa nods, nods harder, and ramps up until you see her happier than she's ever been before; she practically melts into your arms as she gets up and plants a kiss on your lips. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

It is much like you imagined: like the rest of her house, thoroughly decorated, a safe space with all sorts of cute trinkets and animal memorabilia, a plush rug on the floor, and a huge bed covered with a soft blanket, all in soft pastels. But a home is not a home without its pet: Isa lays down on her back and rubs her legs together, your dick still at attention for her.

You unbutton your shirt; she likewise divests herself of her clothing—her tank top rises to expose a bit of her flat stomach, she twists when taking off her bra, her breasts fall free, and she peels off her pants with such a slow deliberation that you can't tell if it's for show or if she's simply so aroused that it's painful to move. Her body is slim in the right places but with plenty to squeeze, her thighs and tits soft like marshmallows.

"Daddy," she purrs in response, patting the sheets.

"My turn to taste you."

You climb onto the bed and kneel between Isa's legs. You trace the contours of her thighs, loving how her nipples stiffen at your touch, how she squirms when your hands come too close to her dripping slit. Your fingers graze against the slick skin of her inner thigh, then brush lightly over her outer lips and clit and inner folds, then find their way back to your own lips, where you can't resist licking them clean, tasting your kitten—bitter yet sweet, salty yet fragrant—and Isa writhes in wanton display before you.

"Please. I want you inside me." Isa whines like a kitten in distress, and you plan on taking care of her distress now and always.

You lift her by the hips and shimmy under her body so that she straddles your face. "This first."

Once you steady Isa above you, your tongue flicks against the swollen bud of nerve endings; Isa cries out your name at the first touch. Then, you're licking away, lapping at her wetness that trickles down your throat. Her pussy lips are plump like the ones on her mouth; her clit is just as red as her lips as you pull the hood back with a finger and flick your tongue faster. Her body is still, frozen in rapture. Grab her ass. Push her closer. As you nuzzle into her folds, she leans forward, pressing her face to your hip, while hands grip your thighs and nails dig into your skin.

"Fuck! Daddy! So good," she squeals. "Ahh! Right there. Ohmygod, you're amazing at this. I can't even think... oh fuck!" Isa squeezes tighter around your head, which can't bother you one bit. You feel her warm and heavy weight on you, her body taut above you, and her breaths on your crotch are equally hot as the air around you. You can hear her muffled voice, though it's impossible to tell what she's saying from how much she's slurring her words and drooling onto your legs.

So you stop, wipe her juices from your face, and say, "What was that?"

"C-can I taste you too?" She looks back at you with wide, innocent eyes. "While you eat me out, can I suck your cock? Please? It looks so yummy."

"Hmm." You pretend to consider her offer for a moment and stroke the small of her back with your hands. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Isa kisses your leg, lapping up the mess she made, before pecking her way toward your cock. Just when you take another lick, her lips wrap around your shaft.

"Fuck," you curse when Isa starts bobbing her head on your cock again. You push your middle finger into her entrance to feel her walls squeeze around it and then press your mouth against her clit with renewed vigor. You start to hear and feel the gags she's making as she chokes on your cock—you wonder how far she'll go if she can take it down her throat.

Nothing distracts you from your delicious treat—you run the flat of your tongue across Isa's outer folds before switching to short licks inside of her, all while savoring the juices that dribble down your face. Her pussy tastes wonderful, a musty sweetness that is as addictive as a drug and just as hard to ignore. The moans that rumble in her throat and echo around your shaft—she is everything. You want to eat Isa's pussy every day, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (Does this count as vegan?) As your fingers work feverishly in tandem with your tongue, your hips thrust reflexively into her mouth. She pushes down as if she's trying to impale herself on your dick—until finally, finally, the tip hits the back of her throat. You've never been with a woman who took you so deep so quickly. Here she is managing it without an issue. She was made for this. Your kitten.

Isa pulls back and cries out: "Oh fuck, Daddy, please!" And it's not just that she's gasping for air because of your length: her body goes rigid while her legs squeeze you tight. With a shuddering cry, her juices gush out onto your face while you continue licking and drinking, all the way through the tail end of her climax.

When the trembling dies down, she collapses, body limp atop yours. While aftershocks rock her, two of your fingers slip into her entrance to tease out every bit of her pleasure, curling to find and push that spot deep inside. A third finger eases in, her pussy tender and pliable with arousal, and you can tell that Isa can barely move from how overstimulated she is; yet, when you pull your digits out, Isa whimpers at the emptiness. She nuzzles against your hip, eyes shut tight, and a grin like she's in a dream.

"That's it, kitten," you say. "That's what you deserve."

Isa lets out a cute, pleased noise. "I've never... not like that... I've never felt like that before." Biting her lip, she gazes at your still-erect member, close enough for her warm breath to tickle it. "D-Did you cum? I didn't feel you in my mouth."

"Not yet, kitten. Don't worry." You pat your cockhead against her cheek and nose. "You did such a good job. But I still want to fill you up like I promised."

"Good." She rolls off of you, then curls up on her side and bats her lashes at you. "I'm, um, I'm really, really sensitive now... But, also, I also need your dick inside me. Please."

"Okay, kitten." You sit up on the bed and whisper in her ear, "But only because you said please so nicely."

Isa's legs wrap around you like she's done this a hundred times before. Her eyes are so tender and sweet; it's almost enough to make you want to give up and hold her to your chest forever and forget about sex and cuddles. Almost.

You lay her down in the middle of the bed, a princess, a beloved pet, an object of your desire and adoration. She spreads herself for you, displaying her raw pussy lips and erect clit—she must be desperate for your cock to still be this swollen and needy after such a thorough orgasm. Like a test, you slap your shaft against Isa's pussy, earning a gasp as her body jerks upward in response. "I'm going to breed you, just like you asked."

"Yes," she says, with the widest, most joyful smile on her face while crossing her heels behind your back. "Fill me up with your cock, Daddy. I'm waiting."

"It'll hurt a little though." You thrust slowly along her cunt—her wetness coats the head of your cock as it pushes inside the tiny gap between her clit and the rest of her pussy—snug, snug, too snug for entry without some force.

"I don't care—ah!" She winces when you pull back and rub circles with the tip of your cock. "I've waited so long. And I know I'm safe with you."

You test the waters, dipping your cockhead once again, then a few dozen more times. Despite her discomfort, or because of it, she's trying to push back against you with every movement. She's so sensitive it looks painful—you're barely touching her with your cock and already she's squirming and whimpering.

"Give. Give it. Give it to me," she pleads.

One deep breath, two deep breaths, and then you capitulate, push inside—the hardest thing in the world meets and splits open the easiest/softest. A perfect match. The walls of her cunt stretch around your thickness, clinging on like they're never going to let go. Though you sink deeper and deeper with ease, the friction makes her squeal. Her back arches off the bed, she claws at the sheets, and her mouth falls open with a gasp that becomes a mewl that becomes a squeal that becomes a litany of garbled noises. It's a slow process, taking your time to ensure she can feel every vein, every contour of your cock. When your length carves out space in her pussy and hits that sweet spot inside her, she lets out a sigh and a whimper—she feels fuller than she has in her entire life.

"You good?" you ask.

She nods rapidly and flaps her arms at you; when you're within reach, she yanks you down for a sloppy kiss that mostly consists of sucking on your bottom lip while her tongue explores.

"You're such a good kitten," you whisper between kisses. "So good at taking my cock."

She mewls into your mouth and bucks her hips upwards. "But it's not enough. Need more."

You give a few shallow thrusts of your dick, your forehead against hers as you examine her reaction. "More? Is this better?"

"More." Whatever discomfort or pain is left on Isa's face melts away. She grinds as though to get closer, though she already has your whole length inside her. "Please."

You slam the length of your cock into Isa with a grunt—whatever thoughts are left in Isa's brain evaporate. Your pace is slow and deliberate, so she tries to fuck herself on you faster than you're fucking her; whenever you pull out, her hips follow after you, like she can't stand for your cock to leave her empty for so long.

You give one of her breasts a firm squeeze while your thumb rubs over her firm nipple. With your free hand, you slip two fingers into Isa's mouth; she accepts them readily, her tongue swirling around your digits. She sucks on your fingers till they're dripping with her spit—your other hand alternates between both breasts now. They deserve all the attention they get, and then ten times over. Isa's breasts aren't the biggest, but they're the prettiest: perky with small pink nipples; they bounce enticingly with your movements. When you squeeze them, she starts grazing your back with her nails while her heels dig into you. Her walls spasm and clench around your girth—her orgasm is imminent.

"Daddy, please," she whines. "Need to cum!"

"Kitten, we just got started." You pull your cock out of her pussy and slide it between her labia, between the plushness of her folds. You lean down to plant soft pecks on her forehead, on her eyelids, and then down to her lips again as you continue to rut against her pussy. "Aren't you sensitive?"

Isa lets out the cutest growl and shakes her head. "N-noouh... It, it doesn't matter. You stretch me open so good."

You slide your hands under Isa's ass; she sits up, making it easier for you to carry her off the bed. With her ankles still hooked around each other like a seatbelt, you stand upright, bringing Isa up with you—she's light as a feather as buries her face in the crook of your neck. Even as you take a step back, away from the bed, Isa continues to rub her sensitive core against your throbbing shaft. Maybe here, she's not so much a kitten, but a puppy whose tail wags when happy or excited.

Next to her nightstand, you press Isa against the wall with your body while you adjust your grip on her ass—in this position, your fingers sink deep into the supple flesh. You lower your hips to angle your cock towards the entrance of Isa's cunt and let gravity do its work: she sinks onto your dick with a squeal. Isa gasps sharply as your cock hits a new part of her insides, and she claws at your back harder than ever. You can almost see the outline of your shaft through her taut midriff with how deeply you're penetrating her.

Isa mutters, "So much of Daddy's cock is inside me. It feels so good. Harder. Fuck me harder."

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."

You start bouncing her like a cheap toy, pulling her up until only the tip is inside of her, then slamming her back down to the hilt again with enough force to make the pictures on her wall rattle. Isa can do little more than hold onto you for dear life, your cock her only tether to this world—her eyes have gone blank again, and you can feel her going rigid in the same way she did earlier when you made her cum. You continue fucking into her with no pause in your rhythm, no rest for Isa's aching cunt.

"Cum with me, please! Please!"

"Gonna breed you so hard, kitten, fuck, fuck, I'm cumming," you manage to say, and that's all you can muster before the tidal wave of orgasm overtakes you and washes all other thoughts and feelings away. You pump her with everything you have, and it's a struggle to keep your balance, as you're responsible for the weight of both of you.

A strangled sound escapes Isa's lips, head thrown back, a rosy tint on her chest and face, nipples rock hard, breasts squished against your chest, eyes closed, brow furrowed, teeth gritted, thighs squeezing your hips with unbelievable force—it's an allergy-long list.

You know that she's feeling everything you're feeling. With every spasm of her walls around you milking you, your seed erupts inside of her and floods her womb. Your hips are a blur as they pump into Isa's warmth again and again. Her cunt is a hot and sticky mess with juices leaking down her inner thighs—you feel it all around your cock, dripping onto the carpet below—and you're adding thick rope after rope of your cum into the mix. Your knees are weak; they wobble like jello, but you fight to stay upright. Isa is still conscious—somewhat—and she clings to you for support and safety as if she wants to stay connected with you forever. You fuck her until neither of you can take it anymore, her silken heat pulsating with sensitivity. And then, she sighs, and you feel her body go slack, and you're ready to do the same.

The two of you collapse onto the bed, sweaty, tired, satisfied. There's an instant where you consider pulling out, but you don't. You can't; there's nowhere else to go and no one else to be. Isa asked you to cum inside, and you have, so you'll stay inside until your dick softens enough to slide out naturally. You enjoy the hot, slick feel of her insides too much anyway to want to pull out so quickly, the cream leaking out from around your cockhead. You also just want to bask in this afterglow with your precious kitten.

Isa curls up against you as she wraps her limbs around your body and pulls you close, and you feel a strange surge of emotion well up inside of you as you hold her in return. It's not the same euphoria from climaxing or even the physical warmth of sex. It's something deeper, something you've never felt before.

"How was your first time feeling cum inside?" you ask after a moment of silence.

"G-good." She grips your wrist tightly as her face flushes red again. "Even better than I imagined. And the fact it's yours... it makes me feel all fuzzy inside," she finishes softly.

You kiss her cheek. "I know what you mean."

"I can't believe it." Isa purrs as she rubs her ass against your limp cock. "You're really good at that," she murmurs while nuzzling into your neck. "What the hell. And you're telling me you had bad luck with girls before?"

You shrug. "I don't know. They couldn't handle my dick. And maybe I'd get too rough and... ah, never mind." You feel ashamed admitting these things, but Isa is so understanding. She rubs your cheek and smiles back at you.

"Hey, if they can't take it, that's their loss." Isa kisses you sweetly, then giggles.

There's something about the way Isa acts and talks and is, in general, that puts you at ease—as if she can accept you no matter who you are or what you do, which is funny because she barely knows anything about you."Kitten," you say to yourself, like a habit that's formed whenever you see her now. "Seriously, it's perfect for you."

"I love it." Isa responds. "And I love hearing it come out of your mouth."

"Actually. I can think of something better."

She stares up at you, her eyes half-lidded, her smile lazy and contented. "What is it?" she asks.

"Mine. My kitten."

Isa looks away, embarrassed. "Oh, well, okay then, I'm yours."

***

The more Lee Chaeyoung, your lover, opens up to you, the more she reveals how compatible the two of you are. You watch horror movies together, enjoy the same drinks, have similar tastes in food. She confesses a bit too eagerly that she loves to cook, finding it more of a challenge for her than anyone else. Best of all, her sense of humor clicks with yours. You feel like you could just talk for hours, whether it's idle chatter, playing games together, or simply relaxing and enjoying her company. Most importantly, the connection you two feel is immediate; your bodies, your minds, every part of you so in tune.

And then there are those wild fantasies that dance within her mind. It drives you to embark on late-night research sessions, delving into the depths of the internet to discover how best to fulfill her desires. While you cherish these wholesome moments with Isa, the temptation to give in becomes increasingly difficult to resist. With someone as naturally sensual as her, it's only a matter of time before you succumb. You get the funny feeling that Isa might find a way to substitute sleep with sex if given the chance.

After an exhausting day of work, you're at your usual rendezvous point with Isa, but with a few of her friends for dinner. Isa's eyes lock onto yours—you would travel to hell and back if it meant getting to see her smile like that; fortunately, the meeting spot is only a block away from the mundane inferno of your job. She runs up to you and jumps into your arms, her legs wrapped around your waist as she kisses you deeply. Her friends respond with various levels of disgust, amusement, and jealousy.

"How was your day?" she asks as she climbs down.

"It was okay, I guess. A lot better now that I got to see you." You stroke her cheek and kiss her forehead. "Sorry for being late. I had something important I needed to pick up."

"Oh?" A raise of her brow.

You reach into your pocket and pull out a small bag with a collection of hair ties. "Because you lost your favorite one a few days ago," you say.

Her eyes light up when she sees what's inside. "Thank you!" She wraps her arms around your neck and showers your face in kisses.

"Of course," you respond through stifled laughter. "You wouldn't stop whining about it."

She pulls back, mock offense written on her face before she eyes the small gift again with delight twinkling in her eyes. You share an affectionate bump as you return towards where her friends are waiting, the streets alive with the hum of nightlife and the liveliness of the city's residents.

As you all arrive at Sumin's apartment, you feel nervous, excited, and jittery all at the same time. You've only heard about these friends, and now there's all this pressure. Isa keeps staring at you and flashing you little knowing grins, and you can't stop smiling back at her. As you both sit down on the sofa and watch her friends cook in the kitchen, she throws herself into your lap, sitting with her legs draped over yours.

Woah," you say, surprised. "Are you trying to show off in front of your friends? Everyone's watching, you know."

Isa chuckles, leaning back against your chest and looking up at you. "Maybe. Do you want me to stop?"

You smile back at her, squeezing her thigh. "Uhh, a little, to be honest. I don't want your other friends to think of me as some douche."

She rubs her thumb across your palm, nodding in agreement. "I think I've made it obvious how much I like you, but you're right, you're right." Isa pouts, getting off your lap, though it's too late; you feel a stirring in your groin as you look at her slender body.

Just then, her friends finish up the meal, and everyone sits down to eat. Isa insists on sitting next to you, and she keeps smiling and looking over at you as you eat together. "Did you like the beef?" she asks. "I can cook it better than any you've ever had."

"Yeah, it was really good," you reply. You're still hungry. Not food.

"How did you two end up together?" Chaehyun asks before she drinks some more beer.

Sullyoon raises her hand, a grin on her as always when talking about you too. "Oh, it was me." She gives Isa a wink. "I actually set them up because Isa didn't have the balls."

Isa pouts. "Hey, that's not true."

You chuckle, enjoying the way her cheeks are flushed as her friends tease her.

"Besides, that was just the first step. What really sealed the deal was all the snacks he bought for me at the store," she says, grinning proudly.

"Really?" Sumin asks?

"Actually," you interject, "it was love at first sight when we saw each other."

"Eww," she says, rolling her eyes.

You grin sheepishly, putting your hands up defensively. "Well, it's true! We just... I don't know, there's just something about her that feels right."

Isa smiles and bites her lip, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she stares at you with dreamy eyes. "Yeah," she agrees softly.

There's a short lull in the conversation as everyone processes what you both have just said. You try to break the mood: "But really, it was the snacks. I'm serious!"

That earns a few laughs from everyone. Isa's hand rests on your shoulder, and you feel her fingers brushing against the back of your neck, brushing the goosebumps she just made. She bites her lip, looks over at you, and you can tell she's dying to get her hands on you, too.

The rest of the night goes along without a hitch as you play some games with everyone, eat more food. Afterwards, you walk with Isa, and she reaches out to grab your hand as you walk. The street lamps act as loyal guides, casting their gentle glow upon the silent, deserted roads, illuminating your path as you journey towards the car.

When you finally arrive at your destination, an electric charge lingers in the air, and if you look up there should be thunder clouds and static electricity where there's an inky black night sky, and kablam—Isa's lips meet yours, and there comes the strike.

As you reluctantly part, gasping for air, Isa leans her head against yours, her finger tracing a delicate path along your cheek. "I had so much fun tonight," she murmurs.

You run a hand through Isa’s red hair, a darker and more faded color. "Yeah. I did too."

"So… my place again?" she asks. It feels like the sort of question she'll be asking a lot.

You meet her gaze, giving her a nod and a renewed kiss. Opening the car door, you allow Isa to slip into the passenger seat.

"Did you like hanging out with my friends?" Isa asks.

"Yeah, a lot." When you step into the vehicle, you take in the new car smell; it's only a few days old. But more overpowering is Isa's hand cream as you take her hand and kiss it again, and again, and again.

She laughs as you tickle her with pecks. "They liked you too! I didn't think you would click so well with them." She pauses. "They also thought we were really cute together."

You start up the car and pull off, eager to get the two of you back to her place. "I'm glad. That means I get to keep being around your friends, which means I get to spend more time with you."

Her cheeks flush and her mouth quirks upward. "Okay, I have a question for you, what do you want to do when we get to my place?" Her tone is teasing and seductive.

"Hmm, I don't know. What do you want me to do to you?"

She grins and giggles, but doesn't answer right away. Her legs cross over each other as she ponders her response. You look at her and smile. You love how cute she looks when she's thinking, and you especially love when she's thinking of you. "We could… cook something. Together. Or, you know, you could read me a book to sleep and—no. Th-the only thing I can think of is last time... God, I don't want you to think of me as some kind of pervert."

"Hey," you say softly. "I like your perversion." Your fingers run along her thigh, brushing against her inner leg. "I've got some things in mind that I'd like to try myself, so it's fine."

"I can't even sleep in my own couch or bed properly without thinking about you fucking me," she mumbles, before biting her lip and staring out the window with a frown.

"I'm sorry."

She waves your apology away dismissively. "No! It's not that bad, I'm definitely exaggerating. But sometimes, before I sleep, I get into the same position and..." Her voice trails off as her eyes close and her eyebrows furrow together. Her hands move on their own, miming the same actions as they had before, fingers running down her torso, over her breasts, her hips. As quick as her hand makes it there, she stops, and the blush deepens on her face. Her eyes flutter open and meet yours, then flick to the road ahead of you. "Yeah," she says, trying to shake off the thoughts plaguing her mind.

"Woah," you say. You reach out and touch her thigh, running your fingertips along the smooth, cool material. "You okay?"

"Yes." Her gaze fixes on the passing scenery beyond the window. "Just... really turned on. And we still have a drive ahead."

You chuckle. "Well, I'll try my best to distract you."

Isa groans as you run a hand up her thigh and squeeze gently. She grabs your wrist. "Ah, ahhh, that feels nice. But don’t get carried away. Crashing isn’t sexy."

You laugh, nodding. "Right, right." You pull your hand back, focusing on the road.

The two of you have more mundane conversations, but somehow the topic comes up: "So you know how you... um, call me kitten?"

A knowing smile tugs at your lips as you lean into her words. "Yep."

Her cheeks flush, and she playfully averts her gaze, her voice tinged with a bashful giggle. "What if, uh, we played more with that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, since I love cats so much and we can't even have one." She holds up the cat plushie you keep in the car for good measure.

You also note the word "we" and smile to yourself. "Are you sure that's the reason? Not just you being horny."

"Yah!"

"Alright, alright," you concede, the playful tone of your voice mirroring hers. "So, what kind of things were you thinking of? Other than a collar, obviously."

"And a leash."

"Well…" Never mind, you don't mind eschewing some realism here.

"But, yeah, that was the start. That I kinda, you know, wanted to try. But also, you were really good at taking charge. How you teased me and made me wait and rewarded me when I'm good. More of that. I want you to claim me and own me and…" She trails off, too embarrassed and blushing to say anymore. It's incredibly cute to watch her squirm as she tries to bring up the rest of her ideas. With your research, you already have an idea of what sorts of things she might be into, but it’s best to hear from her.

"Go on, kitten, talk," you command, putting a heavy weight in your tone, and she almost immediately lets out a sigh of relief.

"Please, be patient," she whines, laughing. Her voice drops to a whisper, the lust in her eyes undeniable. "You could be the, uhm, dominant one and, uh, I would, do whatever you want me to."

"That’s what I figured."

"Right." She can't even look at you. "I meant, you know, really getting into it, the whole roleplay thing."

The mere idea makes you want to put the pedal to the floor and reach Isa's place as quickly as possible, but you calm yourself.

She continues: "So, you could, maybe pet me, and I would purr."

You pat the head of the cat plushie next to Isa, who places a hand on it, giggling. "Yeah, and you have such a cute little kitty mouth and even your tongue is like a little lappy tongue."

Isa turns even more red and stops talking, covering her face with her hands and laughing. You chuckle, and after a moment she gathers her wits and puts her hands down.

"Yeah," she confirms, her voice filled with both excitement and shyness. "And maybe... you can give me commands to learn some tricks. Like waving my paws at you or shaking my head no." Her words spill forth in a rush of anticipation.

And again, you want to note that’s less of a kitten thing and more of a puppy thing, but you don’t mind making an exception for her. A playful glint dances in your eyes. "And you're meant to be my plaything, a slutty... pet kitten for your owner?" you suggest, your voice heavy with desire and dominance.

She nods, her brain slipping like a broken record. "Yes," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything you said... and maybe you could really punish me if I'm naughty."

Isa's breath hitches, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she considers the question. "However you see fit. But maybe... you could take your belt and use it to smack my butt when I'm being naughty." She pauses, her voice growing softer. "Actually, I kinda like it when you're really rough with me. Like... how I get all dizzy when you tire me out. And it's hot when you treat me like a toy, like when you carried me… fuck. You could even tie me up or choke me, if that's what you want."

"Or I could just use a gag if I felt lazy," you say playfully, the possibilities swirling in your mind.

Isa laughs, a sound that holds both excitement and a hint of anticipation. Yet, beneath the laughter, a whimper escapes her lips. "Speaking of which," she murmurs, "I wanted to buy some things for this." Her eyes meet yours briefly before darting away. Isa squirms in her seat, her cheeks flushed as she busies herself with searching for the necessary items online. The soft glow of the screen illuminates her face, casting a warm and inviting light upon her features.

A smile graces your lips as you pat her head. "Good girl," you praise, your voice filled with affection. "I like it when you're helpful."

Eventually, she gives you directions to some store, and you continue driving in comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts.

The two of you arrive, and you realize quickly that it's a sex shop, the neon sign flickering in the night, windows blackened by curtains. The car engine purrs to a halt.

"I was surprised it's still open," Isa says.

You glance at the shop's entrance, its door ajar, beckoning you inside, even if the rest of the exterior looks quite sketchy. "There are probably customers who can only shop for this kind of thing at night," you reply with a shrug.

Stepping out of the car, Isa leads the way, her stride filled with confidence. The store's interior greets you with emptiness, save for a bored employee who looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Undeterred, you grab a shopping basket, its metal handle cool against your palm, and begin to venture down the aisles, searching for the items you need. "I think we could get the collar and leash here," you suggest.

Your eyes scan the shelves until they land upon a display of collars and harnesses. Among them, one catches your attention—a delicate collar adorned with a tiny bell that tinkles with every movement, along with matching cat ears. You pluck it from its hook and hold it up for Isa to see. "This one is cute," you say, excitement lacing your voice.

Isa's eyes light up as she nods in agreement, her fingers reaching out to caress another collar with a keyhole cutout in the front. "This would work too.”

Together, you gather the collars and leashes, placing them gently into the basket. Your exploration continues, which leads you to a section dedicated to all things furry. A playful smirk tugs at your lips as you remark, "I guess we're furries now?"

Isa chuckles "I don't think just wearing cat ears makes me a furry."

Your search within the furry section yields a couple of tail plugs, their soft fur tickling your fingertips. You also grab a simpler metal butt plug, its smooth surface gleaming under the store's fluorescent lights. "But this part of the store has a lot of relevant things for us," you remark.

Isa's laughter echoes through the aisles as she plucks a box from the shelf and holds it up to her head. "Do you think this will look cute on me?" she asks, her eyes sparkling.

Taking the box from her hands, you read the label—a kit to transform Isa into a feline goddess, complete with cat ears, a bushy tail, and mitts made of faux fur for your hands to poke out from. She didn't have to ask—you can already picture it. "Hmm, I think so."

You grab a different set, one without the mitts instead. Your exploration of the shop continues until you find yourselves in the fetish and roleplay section, a realm filled with endless possibilities. Bondage ropes, gags, cuffs, tape, and a blindfold join the basket.

Isa's voice breaks through the silence, her tone filled with awe and amusement. "Wow, we are really going all in."

"Well, I mean, I guess we could gift these if we're not using any of them?"

 "That's true. Although, you know," she pauses, her voice lowering to a whisper, "I think I'd prefer to keep them, just in case."

 You nod, and continue browsing through the selections, adding more and more to the shopping basket. You eventually end up with a pile of toys and accessories, and you head to the counter to check out. The transaction complete, you grab the bags from the car and begin the journey back home.

 The weight of your purchases fills the car. "Don’t think I’ve ever spent that much," you jest, bags as passengers of the back seats. "I could've bought a refrigerator with what we got today. You looked pretty excited."

 Isa nudges your elbow gently as you resume driving. "Aww, c'mon. It wasn't that much."

 "It's a lot. But nothing says we have to use all of these tonight."

"I had fun anyway," she says, her eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief. "Like, I didn't even know they could sell a dildo in that size."

You shake your head in disbelief. "I definitely did not know that either."

The drive home is quieter now; perhaps both of you need some time to digest everything or maybe exhaustion has settled upon your shoulders, remarkably late to be shopping. Regardless, the silence wraps around you like a cozy blanket, comforting and familiar. You steal glances at Isa, her head nodding as she struggles to keep her eyes open, tiredness finally catching up with her.

As you approach the parking lot of her place, she turns to you, a yawn escaping her lips as she stretches. "So, are we really doing this tonight?"

You study her tired expression, a gentle smile curving your lips. "Looks like you don't have the energy for it."

"Mmm," she hums in agreement, her eyelids heavy. "But we can at least try on the collar, right? And maybe a leash too."

You park the car and enter her apartment hand in hand. Both of you are too weary to engage in anything too active. Sitting on her bed, you gaze into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. With gentle hands and loving intent, you help Isa put on the collar and leash. In this quiet moment, the weight of your purchases fades into insignificance.

She leans against you and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, finding solace in the warmth of your embrace. "Mmm, this feels nice," she whispers with a soft smile.

You wrap your arm around her, your touch grazing her back with tenderness. "Yes, it does," you respond, your voice laced with warmth as you press a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head.

Moments pass as you revel in the closeness and intimacy shared between you two. The weariness of the day slowly takes its toll on Isa, her eyes heavy with sleep as she falls into a peaceful slumber. You gently remove the collar from her delicate neck before joining her in a state of restfulness.

As dawn breaks, the darkness still cloaks the world beyond the windowsill, casting a serene atmosphere within the room. Isa lies beside you, her vivid red hair splayed gracefully across the pillow. Shifting slightly against the headboard, you sit up, observing her serene form.

Isa stirs beside you, murmuring softly in her sleep. Your hand instinctively glides through her hair, caressing her strands in an attempt to lull her back into peaceful dreams. Gradually, her restlessness subsides, and she curls up on the bed, her head resting gently in your lap. You continue to pet her, savoring the sensation of her soft hair cascading through your fingers, feeling the tension in her body gradually dissipate under your gentle touch.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you retrieve the collar and leash. With utmost care, you secure the collar around her neck, clasping it tenderly. Tugging gently on the leash, she shifts, turning onto her side as she gazes up at you with sleepy eyes.

"Hello," she murmurs softly, her voice raspy with sleep.

A playful twinkle dances in your eyes as she playfully paws at your pants, her actions betraying her half-awake state. "Hi, kitten," you respond, your words infused with affection.

Her lips curl into a contented smile, her eyes still closed. "Mmm, that feels lovely," she purrs, the warmth of her breath against your groin causing you to grow. She nuzzles her face closer, her cheek rubbing gently against your clothed erection, eliciting a small moan of pleasure from her lips.

"You like that, don't you?" you whisper, pulling on her leash gently. "You like feeling your owner's cock on your face."

"Mmhmm," she mumbles in response, nodding with sleepy acquiescence. Her tongue slips out to moisten your clothed shaft, tracing teasing patterns that leave droplets of saliva upon the fabric.

You allow her to continue. Your hand continues to caress her hair while pulling lightly on the leash. She is fully awake now, but she maintains the guise of half-consciousness, her hands exploring your thighs, your hardened length, and eventually slipping beneath your waistband to cup your testicles. A quiet groan escapes your lips as her fingers tease and stroke your sac, intensifying the pleasure that courses through you.

Driven by desire and the intoxicating sensation of her touch, you slowly lower your pants and boxers. With closed eyes, Isa remains blissfully unaware of the freedom you have granted your erection. A mischievous giggle escapes her lips as your engorged shaft brushes against her nose.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"It's okay," she says, her voice heavy with sleep. "I love how big and heavy your cock is."

You drink in the sight before you, captivated by the image of her mouth agape, her tongue peeking out in anticipation. She searches for your shaft without needing to see it, her breath hot upon your skin. Finally finding your tip, she lavishes it with lazy kitten-like licks that send waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

Isa begins to take your cockhead into her mouth, her movements unhurried as she places it delicately between her lips, producing a gentle hum of satisfaction. A quiet moan escapes your throat as you feel her warm and wet mouth enveloping your tip, her tongue swirling sensually along your shaft. Her fingers find their way to the base of your cock, stroking it with a gentle rhythm.

The leash tightens around your hand as a surge of heat courses through your veins. Isa continues to suckle on your tip with an air of carefree abandon, contentedly humming and purring against the sensitive flesh. Her other hand tenderly caresses your testicles, eliciting a louder moan of pleasure from your lips.

If not for the telltale signs of her increasing arousal, you might still believe the façade of her half-asleep state. Yet, her hips writhe and rise in the air, her thighs rubbing together in a desperate bid for more. Entranced by this view of her unbridled desire, your hand descends to grab and squeeze her ass through her sweatpants. She gasps in response, her hand quickening its pace along your length. The passion between you intensifies as she strives to maintain her lips around your cockhead while her fingers twist around your engorged shaft. The pleasure becomes nearly overwhelming, the warmth and wetness of her mouth coupled with the tantalizing flicks of her tongue sending you hurtling towards the precipice of climax. It is then that you pull on her leash, your voice laden with a mixture of restraint and longing.

You reluctantly withdraw the pulsating erection from her entrancing mouth, causing Isa to emit a soft whimper as you gently lift her to meet your gaze. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen from your earlier intimacy. The sight of her arousal is almost too much to bear.

"How about we pick up where we left off last night?" you suggest, your voice barely above a whisper.

Isa nods eagerly, her eyes lustful and full of desire. "Yes, Daddy," she whispers back, her voice trembling with anticipation.

You tenderly stroke her hair, the gesture eliciting shivers from her delicate frame. "Good girl," you murmur, your voice filled with affection. "Now, take off your clothes for me and get on all fours on the bed."

She obeys your command, her movements graceful as she removes her shirt and sweatpants. Her breath catches in her throat as her breasts bounce freely, their curves captivating your gaze. With each article of clothing discarded, her thick hips are bared to you, an invitation that sets your pulse racing. The sight of her thighs, smooth and inviting, arouses a primal desire within you. Your palm glides across their soft, pillowy skin, reveling in the exquisite sensation.

You reach down and retrieve the bags you left on the floor, your fingers grazing over the array of items until they land on the cat tail plug nestled among the contents. The plug end gleams in the soft light, its sleek surface inviting to the touch. With a gentle caress, you turn it over in your hand, feeling the plushness of the fluffy tail against your skin. Running the tail plug over Isa's body, you revel in the power it holds. The toy traces a path along her bare chest and down her bare legs, the contrast of the cold metal and the soft fur eliciting a delicious squirm from her. Your voice laced with a hint of mischief as you ask, "Have you ever tried anything anal before? Or this type of toy?"

Isa shakes her head bashfully, yet there's a palpable eagerness in her eyes as she holds her hands behind her back, offering herself to you completely.

"I'm going to have to prepare you then," you say, taking out a bottle of lube and applying it generously to the plug. You take the bottle with you as you settle on your knees and crouch down behind her ass, holding the toy in one hand. Your index prods the underside of her tailbone, and she gasps as you reach down, kissing her plump asscheeks. "Is this okay?" you ask, wanting to make sure.

"Y-yes, Daddy," Isa stammers. You drag the pad of your finger against her skin, eliciting a tremor from her and a new gasp that drops into a long moan, and then you take that as a cue to rub it down her crack, tickling her pussy along the way. "O-oh, Daddy!" she whines, humping your hand in need.

"Kitten, remember." As you speak, you press two of your fingers between her plump folds, your thumb and forefinger gently squeezing her clit. She wiggles her ass, squeaking. "If you want to be a good girl, you have to be patient."

"Daddy," she begs, "please, please, more..." She bucks again, her wet folds clamping around your fingers and your knuckles squeezing her entrance. You rub them up and down, spreading her juices. She's a sticky mess, her arousal dripping down your hand, and you grin, pleased.

"No, not yet. We have to get your ass ready first." Your pointer digit now slick, you squeeze a dollop of lube in your other hand, and you smear it along her asshole.

"Ah!" Isa cries, tensing up at the sudden cold. You shush her, rubbing her pucker with your fingertip, then gradually pressing your lubed finger into her, past the tight ring of muscle, feeling the walls of her ass tense around your digit. You move slowly, pushing your finger further into Isa, letting her get used to the sensation. You reach the second knuckle, and you can feel her starting to relax, her walls loosening up around you. "Ohhh," she moans, her hands balled into fists on the bedsheets.

You curl your finger, pushing against her walls, trying to get her accustomed to the sensation. She moans louder, her hips bucking back against your hand. She seems to be enjoying herself, so you continue, slipping another finger into her ass, this time your middle finger.

"Ah! Daddy!" She cries out, her back arching and her ass pushing against your fingers, taking them deeper into her. You continue, working your fingers in and out of her ass, stretching her out. "It feels so good, Daddy," she moans, her voice trembling.

You pull your fingers out of her ass, and you place the tip of the plug against her, gently pushing it in. "Here’s the plug now," you explain, as you press it against her entrance. "You need to relax, kitten, and let it in."

With a whimper, Isa goes pliant, and you exert steady pressure. Her brow furrows as the plug breaches her entrance, slowly sinking into her clutching heat. She winces as the girth spreads her wide, and you pause, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion.

When her expression smooths, you resume pushing, watching inch after inch disappear until only the flared base remains nestled between her cheeks. The furry tail sways with each squirm of her hips.

You caress the warm skin of her backside. "How does that feel, kitten?"

"So good, Daddy," she breathes, gazing at you through heavy lids. "I didn't know my ass could stretch like that."

A surge of pride washes over you as you reward her obedience with words of affirmation. "Good girl," you murmur, pressing a kiss against her ass before redirecting your attention to her dripping-wet pussy. With a teasing motion, you spread her folds apart, running your fingers up and down her slick slit, teasing her entrance. Her thighs fall open with a needy whine. "I think we should have some breakfast first," you say, unable to keep the grin from your voice.

She whines. "Nooo, but I, I need your cock, in me, or your fingers, or anything—"

"Not yet," you say sternly. "You have to be patient. And if I tell you to wait, then you'll wait."

Isa pouts in response, her bottom lip jutting out in a sulky pout, but ultimately nods her agreement. You remove the leash from her collar, and the two of you make your way towards the kitchen. As she walks, there’s a slight awkwardness to her gait, a subtle gracelessness that somehow only adds to her allure. Her posterior sways enticingly with each step, captivating your attention as you trail behind in a purposeful slowness. She knows what she’s doing too: the seductive undulation of her hips from side to side makes her tail bounce playfully, and she casts a mischievous smile over her shoulder.

You follow her lead, entering the kitchen where you open the fridge and begin gathering ingredients. Your eyes flick towards Isa, who’s settled herself onto a barstool. Her legs are spread wide, and her fingers tease and rub at her own clit. The tail plug nestled between her legs seems like the most natural extension of her body. A mixture of surprise and intrigue crosses your face. "What are you doing?" you ask, walking over to her.

She blinks up at you with feigned innocence, but a glint of mischief dances in her eyes. "Just getting used to my new tail, Daddy," she purrs playfully. "Aren't I such a good kitten?"

You shake your head. "Looks like you're trying to make me fuck you." You reach over, taking hold of the base of the tail plug and pulling it out slightly, before shoving it back in. Isa cries out, her body tensing up as you repeat the action, fucking her ass with the plug. "If you can't control yourself, then maybe I'll just have to punish you."

A chorus of moans escapes Isa's lips, her defiant fingers moving faster against her clit in a desperate plea for more. "Yes, Daddy, please," she begs, her voice a symphony of need and longing.

Your grin widens, a surge of dominance coursing through your veins as you grab her arm, pulling it away from her throbbing core. "No, kitten," you assert firmly, your voice commanding. "You're not allowed to touch yourself."

Isa whimpers in protest, her desire palpable, but she obediently complies with your command, her hands remaining bound behind her back. You release her arm, your eyes locked on the sight of her restrained beauty, her need radiating from every pore.

"Since you insist on misbehaving like that," you declare, your voice laced with a hint of playful authority, "I'll have to tie you properly." With purposeful determination, you retrieve the rope you had acquired for this very purpose, expertly maneuvering it around her delicate wrists, binding them securely together. Isa's whimper of surrender echoes through the room as the rope bites into her skin, marking her as yours.

With the task completed, you turn your attention back to the kitchen, resuming your culinary endeavors. The rhythmic sound of knife meeting cutting board fills the air as you deftly chop vegetables and toss them into a waiting bowl. Isa's eyes never leave you, her body wriggling with anticipation and desire, the tail plug nestled between her legs a constant reminder of her submissive state.

"Daddy, please," she pleads, her voice filled with a desperate longing. "I want your cock so bad. I need you to fuck me."

You shake your head, ignoring her, and continue working. You add the dressing to the salad, and you bring it over to her. She glances toward the cutlery in front of her, and you nod—if she wants to be a naughty animal, then she deserves to be treated like one. You also give her water in a bowl for added measure. You smile as you watch her try to pick up the salad with her mouth, struggling to use her lips and tongue to get the lettuce into her mouth. She eventually manages it, and she starts chewing, swallowing the vegetables. Isa also laps up from the bowl with a blush on her face.

You watch her eat, pleased, and you stroke your cock through your pants, teasing yourself. After she finishes the salad and as much of the water as she can, you get up from your seat, and you grab a hold of the rope binding her wrists together, pulling on it and leading her to the bedroom.

You help carefully pull the tail plug out of her ass, and you slip in a new butt plug, smaller and more discreet. "I think you can handle this one," you say, squeezing her ass and rubbing her back. She mewls, her legs quivering.

You grab a pair of panties and slip them onto her, helping her into them and pulling them up her thick thighs. She wiggles her hips, struggling to keep herself balanced as you adjust them for her, before you take out a skirt and help her step into it.

"We're going out today, kitten," you say. "You're going to wear your collar and cat ears in public, and no one will know that your slutty kitten asshole is going to be filled up. And if you’re good, then maybe you’ll get what you really want."

"Really?" she asks, her eyes widening with excitement.

You nod. "Yes, really."

"O-Okay." You quickly dress and head outside, the two of you enjoying the morning and the quiet streets. You don't have any concrete plans today, but there's a list of things in your mind that you would enjoy getting Isa to do: pet her in public, talk her into cumming just from sitting in your lap, even a spank here or there. While you don't bring the leash this time, you might try it some time in the future, and you want her to be comfortable. Right now, she just looks like a fashionable girl wearing animal ears.

As the two of you go on with your day, you try to spot signs of the fact she's aroused: the way she walks, the way she moves her arms, her eyes constantly wandering down and scanning the bulge in your pants. You catch her trying to squeeze her legs together or rub her thighs to get friction. At one point, when you sit in an isolated corner of a coffee shop, she rests her head in your lap and purrs contentedly. You gently rub her hair and scratch behind her ears, whispering for her to "think about Master's cock filling you up while your other hole's all plugged up" but also "not to cum without Master's permission." There's a soft moan against your crotch, then a warm sigh as her cheek rubs into your leg.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

After spending the whole day taking her around and making her go do mundane tasks with the plug, and most importantly having her beg and beg for you to fuck her—"in the park, on a bench, or the bushes in a hiking trail, anywhere please" she said—you're excited, eager for this evening. Isa looks back at you with tears brimming in her eyes, and her knees wobbling, as she's panting and trying to hold back from cumming. "Please," she begs. "I need it. Please, anything."

You think you have her just about at her limit when you both return to the car to drive back to Isa's place. Even the walk from the parking lot to Isa's apartment door has her clinging to you for support as she stumbles.

"Hey, kitten," you say, touching the small of her back under her shirt. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine. I'm just, so, so, worked up, fuck. I want your cock," she pouts, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. She hunches forward, unable to look at you.

"I bet," you tease, kissing the top of her head. "I'll give you what you want soon, kitten. Just a little longer."

She whimpers. "Please."

"Okay, c'mon, baby," you say, letting go and opening the door for her. She staggers in on her jelly-like legs, her cheeks flushed and her breath hitching. You get behind her and hug her; holding her as tightly as you are, Isa relaxes into you. Her heart is pounding wildly against your palm. You set her down onto the couch, and she gives you a grateful smile, which you kiss in turn. Your hands roam all over her, down her waist and settling between her legs. You slip under her panties and tease the metal plug in her butt, twisting it until you hear a deep sigh from her. "You're so wet," you tell her. "Look at you. So sweet."

She makes a keening noise when you tug on the plug, just so, just enough to remind her of what you both want. Your finger teases along her folds, gently brushing up and down against the seam, up towards the hood of her clit. Isa shivers.

"Do you want me to make you cum?" you ask as you rub her clit.

"Mmhm," Isa nods furiously, her hands coming up to grasp at your shoulders, looking for purchase. "P-please. Make me cum."

At this point, a single digit thrust would probably be enough to push her over the edge. Instead, you remove your hands from her panties, place them on her breasts, squeeze them, and gently tug on her nipples. You love the way the skin of her neck and breasts blush with arousal. "You've been a good kitten," you say, cupping her ass and pulling her closer. "I'm so proud of you."

“Can, can I get a reward?” she asks, almost in tears.

You brush her tousled hair. “Shh, shh, of course. Do you want to cum on Daddy’s face?”

She nods emphatically while her pussy soaks her panties and leaks onto the couch. “Y-yes, Daddy, anything.”

In response, you pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, and she clings to you like a lifeline, as if afraid that if she lets you go, you won’t touch her and she might break into pieces from frustration. You lie down on the bed, and Isa climbs on top of you.

She quickly aligns her pussy with your face, and your mouth waters in anticipation at the sight of her darkened panties. You hook one finger around the thin and wet fabric and pull them down to reveal her swollen pussy, her asshole plugged tightly. “You smell so good,” you say, licking your lips as she mewls. “Sit.”

Isa does as told, and the warmth of her mound rests on your chin. She braces her hands on the headboard as you raise your head a bit to reach her core. You kiss her lower lips with reverence and delicacy, like you would kiss her lips. They're warm, warm and soaked with her honey, and they part easily to reveal the pink insides. Her clit is standing erect, almost painfully so, and the hood has pulled away.

You begin by flicking the tip of your tongue against it. She jumps. Then, you take the sensitive pearl into your mouth. Isa groans at this, but you don't stay for too long. You place wet, loud kisses against her mound and inner thighs, before going back to her clit. This time, you suck on it. A little nip sends her jumping on you again, and she yelps. The next kiss is quick and soft.

As she grows accustomed to the new stimulation, you suck and lick and nibble her clit, all while keeping an eye on her face. You see it scrunch up, her nose crinkling in pleasure, her eyes shut. Her moans are accompanied by whines, little pathetic sounds that let you know she's getting close to her breaking point.

There is nothing quite like eating out Isa while she has a toy in her ass and she's wearing cat ears and a cute collar, but more delicious than any picture is the taste of her cream, musky and tangy and addictive. It drips from the swollen labia that your tongue slides through, coating your tongue and making you dizzy with lust. It's strong and you can't help but groan as you dig your face deeper against her sex, lips meeting lips as your tongue.

Isa grinds down on your mouth, and her hips tremble when you begin to circle your tongue around her clit, giving the firm bundle of nerves light but frequent attention. She's a mess on you, and you're happy to be cleanup duty, your chin and shirt a mop. As she rocks back and forth, you reach up at her nipples through her shirt and twist and pinch and roll the stiff buds.

With that, Isa's hips rock one last time as her thighs close and press against the sides of your head. You hear the distant, muffled, muted sounds of her whining, crying, moaning. By now, you can even feel how hard her heart is beating. Her breaths become erratic, and the trembling of her hips turns into shaking. She leans backwards, balancing her weight on your midsection, and the tension in her body snaps.

For a moment, she's floating, mind empty, then everything rushes into her brain like a dam has broken. For the first time that day, she cums, and she cums hard. She's always thought of it as "seeing stars" but now it feels more like being tossed into space and feeling all the gravity around her all at once. All the weight on her body disappears, but the pressure of you increases. She doesn't hear, she doesn't feel. Isa is the color white.

All of a sudden, Isa feels weak. It feels like the universe is a heavy blanket on her. She can barely hold her weight on her body. You're the only thing that feels real at the moment. That, and her pussy, which still tingles with her orgasm, and you can only imagine how the plug in her ass is magnifying everything.

Isa collapses against you, the softness of her flesh warming your chest. She's still convulsing with little aftershocks, her entire body covered in goosebumps. She hears herself saying things like "I love you so much" and "thank you Daddy thank you". The words leave her mouth on their own as she begins to come down from her high.

For as much as you love being her seat, you pull her down into a spoon. You wrap your arms around her. Her heart pounds against your forearm and hand. The scent of her shampoo and sweat fill your nostrils. Everything is still hot from her body heat, and you take a deep breath and exhale through your mouth. "Was that worth the wait, kitten?" you ask her.

"Yeah," she says weakly, the only word she can manage at the moment. Her legs are still shaking, and she takes a few moments to focus on slowing down her breathing and her heartbeat. "Well..."

"Well? You need more, huh?" you chuckle. You should've learned to never be surprised at Isa's appetite by now, and the plug in her ass isn't making her any less horny.

"Mmm, mhm. I need your cock so badly. Fuck my ass. I need Daddy to claim me."

You kiss her cheek and tell her to flip over so that she's laying on her stomach, her round ass staring up at you. "You did such a good job," you whisper as you rub your palms across her lower back before lifting her skirt to get a good view.

The plug sits in Isa's asshole, glistening with her fluids. A bottle of lube waits on the nightstand, and you pour it generously over her crack. With as much care as you can muster, you begin to slowly draw it out, savoring the sight of her clenched hole stretching to accommodate the thickest part of the toy. There is an audible pop when the tapered plug slips free, causing Isa to hiss in pleasure as her rectum reflexively tightens to fill the emptiness left inside.

Her delicate fingers reach behind to part her plump cheeks and expose herself further to your gaze. You bite your lip, taken by the lewdness of the image in front of you. You add more lube to the area, another spurt on your index, and circle around the ring of her anus to coat it before pushing a finger in, massaging her inner walls. "How does that feel, baby?" you ask, watching the way her head jerks back and she squirms beneath you.

"Amazing," she mutters, her voice sounding far away. Prone on the bed, Isa is powerless to resist as you slowly remove your finger, adding a second digit. Her ass grips you so snugly, sucking you deeper with each pump, like it's a sleeve for your fingers. She trembles at the feeling of fullness inside, at the raw vulnerability of being splayed before you like this, your gaze unabashedly on her naked ass as you work her open. "C-can you bring me a pillow, please?"

You kiss the nape of her neck as you reach down and slide the pillow under her pelvis. Her ass raised, her back arched, Isa is the picture of supplication. "So beautiful," you whisper against her skin, and she shudders with arousal.

"Da... daddy, do you need to stretch me more?" Isa stammers. You place your palm at the small of her back, caressing the dip of her spine with gentle circles.

"No, kitten," you soothe. "You're ready."

"Yes. God, yes."

With one hand squeezing the supple curve of her butt, you pour lube liberally across the tip of your erection. You position the head of your cock at the rim of her ass and begin to apply pressure, using your thumbs to massage her soft cheeks. Even your tip struggles to breach her, her entrance reluctant to admit anything more girthy than a couple of fingers. With more lube, and two hands spreading her ass open, you finally push through her anal muscles' resistance, gasping as the tightness and warmth of her insides engulfs the head of your shaft.

Isa tenses in response, her hands clawing at the bed sheets. The sound she lets out is almost like a pained meow as your cock plunges further into her depths. "Relax," you murmur, using a tender yet reassuring voice to soothe her.

She responds by shifting her hips, attempting to adjust the angle to your thrust, her movements awkward and fumbling due to her precarious position. Her efforts cause her to clench down on your shaft, a wave of pleasure washing over you, before relaxing once again.

A shaky breath escapes your throat as you feel yourself slipping past the ring of her sphincter. "Good, good girl," you praise once you've sunk halfway into her, taking a moment to drink in the erotic view in front of you. "Fuck, you're tight. Almost there."

Her body shudders as she fights to hold still, to restrain her hips from moving on their own accord, a low cry emanating from her lips.

Your hand roams over her waist and upper thigh, seeking out the delicate bud hidden in the cleft of her pussy. You rub a couple of fingers over the tender flesh, delighting in the way her back arches as you stimulate the swollen organ. Savoring her broken sobs, you ease forward, burying the rest of your length in her ass. You gently slap her butt, marveling at the way it bounces with each contact.

Isa moans as you pull your dick out slightly before plunging it back into her ass, beginning with slow, shallow pumps. The motion is easy and fluid, despite her virgin-tightness.

You press your palms flat against the mattress and use your forearms for leverage to piston into her. As you drive your shaft deeper into her ass, the combination of her intoxicating aroma and your lust for her spurs you to move faster and harder, until you find yourself rutting her, your balls slapping against her puffy cunt with each frantic thrust.

"Yes! More," she begs, and you groan in reply. Your eyes are fixed on your cock, sliding in and out of her stretched hole, the ridges of your shaft disappearing and reappearing as you pump. Your mouth goes dry as you watch the way her body clings to your cock, how she's utterly and completely full of you.

"Fuck, look at you, so greedy," you growl as she pushes back against your cock. You pause for a brief moment and she whines in protest, then you unsheathe your dick and slap it against her gaping asshole. She jolts at the impact, her body shivering at the feeling. Your hips pull back, and with a powerful snap, you ram your cock into her asshole. She cries out in pain and pleasure, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"D-daddy, don't tease me!" she exclaims, her voice pleading, yet laced with desperation. You smirk at the familiarity of her tone.

You bend down, wrapping your arm around her torso and pulling her up and flush against your chest, the weight of her breasts pressing against your bicep and forearm. In this position, both of you are sitting up, her in your lap like you're her throne—her master, her god, her owner. She leans into you, tilting her head back to look up into your eyes, the adoration and reverence shining within her gaze unmistakable. Your shaft presses against her lower back, and she wiggles her ass desperately to urge you to keep fucking her.

You kiss her neck, inhaling her scent, her arousal. With such an incredible woman in your arms, you are overcome by the desire to mark her, to stake your claim on her, to brand her as your possession. In one swift movement, you sink your teeth into her neck, biting into the delicate skin. Isa whines, her head thrown back, eyes half-lidded and glazed over "Mine," you utter in a low, possessive voice.

"Yours," she answers breathlessly, her lips curled in a delirious smile.

You wrap two large hands around her waist, angling your hips just so as you lift her up, and then, she's sliding down your cock, enveloping you in her warmth as you fill her to the brim. As she takes you into her, she stretches open and lets out an obscene moan, her hands gripping the sheets tightly.

"D-daddy!" Isa whimpers, her body trembling at the intensity of the sensations flooding her. "You're so big."

Sitting on you like this, your cock feels impossibly thick inside of her. She can't help the way her thighs twitch involuntarily, nor can she ignore the way her pussy clenches at nothing. With both of her hands, she grabs onto your arm and guides your hand down between her legs, right over her pussy.

"Touch me," she breathes.

You grin at her request, and you oblige, bringing your fingers to her clit. At that moment, you roll your hips upward, meeting her downward motions with a rough, deep thrust, the force of which knocks the breath out of her lungs. Any amount of control she has above you evaporates at this point, leaving her helpless as you bounce her in your lap while your digits play at her raw and pink nub, or probe her slick, wet entrance.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of her whimpers, of the wet slaps of her ass against your hips, of her needy begging, and of your guttural grunts of effort. Despite the intense climax that shook her only minutes ago, Isa finds herself teetering on the edge of another, and she yearns for release. She's not the only one: her walls cling tightly to your shaft, refusing to yield its grip, and your length pulses with the desperate desire to burst.

"God, I want to feel you cum in my ass, Daddy," she sighs, her head rolling back to lean on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed in concentration, and her mouth hangs open as she gasps and pants and cries with each penetration. You grunt, your gaze hungrily drinking in the sight of her: her reddened, sweaty face, the droplets of perspiration that cling to her collarbone, the rapid rise and fall of her heaving chest, the swaying of her heavy, unrestrained tits.

You suckle at the skin behind her ear, grazing her lobe with your teeth. "Then cum, kitten."

In an instant, a tremor shoots up her spine. With a scream of pure pleasure, her body becomes rigid and then goes limp, her senses overloading as her cunt clamps around your fingers—which doesn't compare at all to her ass clenching and tightening around your cock.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum too—"

But Isa's mind is hazy with ecstasy, her body taut with her own release, that she barely registers the hot and sticky substance suddenly gushing into her anal entrance. Yours on the other hand is sharp and clear as day, and you allow yourself to drown in the euphoria that comes with each spurt. She's a perfect fit for you, made to be yours, and you've marked her as such. Every time she clenches in her pleasure, your cock responds with its own throb, its own gush, its own pulse.

When you collapse, she collapses with you, her thighs sticky and wet as she pants on the bed, lying beside you. You grab a bunch of tissue paper, clean the leaky, creamy mess you've made of her ass.

Her eyes flutter shut and you whisper words of affection and praise. You cradle her in your arms, stroking her hair and tracing patterns across the flushed skin of her back and belly, enjoying the warmth of her body. Her head rests on your shoulder, your neck. Your legs are entwined, and the softness of her chest molds to the planes of your own. Her breathing eventually steadies, and her pulse calms.

Isa lifts her head up, placing her hands on your chest to prop herself up. With lidded eyes and a mischievous smile, she whispers, "I hope you know what you started, Daddy."

A wicked grin creeps upon your lips at her implication, and your hands find their way to her waist, squeezing her hipbones. "And what's that?"

Her gaze softens, and she gazes lovingly into your eyes, a shy smile on her lips. "I hope you don't plan on going anywhere. I don't think I can ever let you go, especially now," she says softly, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"I wouldn't dream of it." You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "You're mine. So I'm yours, kitten."

"Good."

Isa smiles, and you'll never fail to fall in love with the sight of her radiance; that smile makes you believe you may never fail again.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Not really in the Christmas/holiday spirit but I figured might as well pull it out of the draft archives before the year end.

[luvst4rc0r3]

Valentine’s Day Dates!!!

Sevika, Jinx, Ambessa, Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Mel, Vander, Silco

Valentine’s day with them!

SILCO

You and Silco never made a big deal out of things like Valentine’s Day. Or birthdays. Or promotions. Achievements were acknowledged with a nod, maybe a quiet “Well done,” but that was the extent of it. The only exception was your anniversary, and even then, it was just a small gift, exchanged without ceremony before life moved on as usual.

So, when the 14th of February rolled around, you didn’t think twice about it.

The day was like any other—long, exhausting, filled with the usual dealings of the Lanes. By the time you got back to Silco’s office, all you wanted was to sit down, maybe steal a sip of his whiskey, and let the rest of the world fade away.

But the moment you stepped inside, you knew something was different.

The usual scent of damp stone and cigars was laced with something richer—spiced, warm. The office was dimly lit, the sharp glow of the fish tanks casting flickering light over the walls. Silco stood by his desk, sleeves rolled up, a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers. And on the table…

Your eyes widened.

There was food. Real food, not just the quick, thoughtless meals you both shoved down between business dealings. Two plates, wine glasses filled, and something sweet tucked to the side, like an afterthought. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was more effort than either of you had ever put into a day like this.

You turned to Silco, skeptical. “What is this?”

He exhaled slowly, tapping his cigarette into a nearby tray. “A meal.”

You arched a brow. “A meal?”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but close enough. “A meal. With you. No business. No interruptions.” He stepped closer, tilting his head. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I pretend this never happened.”

You blinked.

Silco didn’t do things like this. He didn’t entertain sentiment for the sake of it, didn’t indulge in traditions that meant nothing to him. And yet, here he was.

He must have seen the surprise on your face because he scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Like I’ve grown a second head.”

You laughed, stepping forward, fingers grazing the edge of the table. “I just wasn’t expecting…” You gestured vaguely at the scene before you.

He hummed. “You never expect much from me.”

There was no bitterness in his tone, just a quiet observation. You met his gaze, something tight twisting in your chest.

“I never need to,” you admitted softly.

Because even without celebrations, without grand gestures, he was always there. In the way he ensured you were safe. In the way his hand lingered at your back when you walked together. In the way he listened, even when he pretended not to.

But this… this was something else entirely.

Silco studied you for a moment longer before gesturing to the chair. “Sit.”

You did. The food was simple but good, the wine smooth, the atmosphere… different. Comfortable in a way that neither of you usually allowed.

At some point, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours before settling over them completely. No words, no explanations—just the warmth of his touch, a silent understanding passing between you.

Maybe you didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. Maybe this was a one-time thing.

But tonight, it was enough.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

VANDER

You understood why Vander couldn’t take you out tonight. The Last Drop was packed, busier than you’d ever seen it. Every seat was filled, tankards clashed together in celebration, and coin exchanged hands faster than a Zaunite could blink. It was good for business, for the people, but… it stung just a little.

He’d promised you a night out. Something simple—just the two of you, away from the noise and chaos of the Lanes. But as the hours passed and the rush never slowed, you knew the night wasn’t going to end the way you’d hoped.

So, you sat at the bar, nursing a drink, watching Vander move from table to table, his laughter blending with the chatter of the crowd. He caught your eye a few times, his expression apologetic, but you just smiled and shook your head. You understood.

You didn’t even remember when sleep took you. One minute, you were swirling the last drops of your drink in the glass, the next, warmth surrounded you. The smell of something rich and savory drifted into your senses, pulling you from the depths of sleep.

Blinking, you realized you weren’t at the bar anymore. Instead, you were curled up on the worn-out couch in Vander’s home, a blanket draped over you. Soft candlelight flickered against the walls, and laughter—bright, full of love—filled the room.

Pushing yourself up, you turned towards the source of the noise.

Vander stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, moving with ease as he stirred something in a pot. Vi and Powder were setting the table, bickering over where the plates should go, while Mylo and Claggor handled some kind of bread, arguing about whether it was “too burnt” or “just crispy enough.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Vander rumbled, turning toward you with a sheepish smile. His arms were dusted with flour, his apron slightly askew. “Was startin’ to think I’d have to carry you to the table.”

Your heart clenched in the best way.

“You… did all this?” Your voice was thick with emotion as you looked around. The table was set, the food smelled incredible, and the warmth of home settled deep in your bones.

“We felt bad you didn’t get your fancy date,” Vi admitted, hands on her hips. “So, we brought the fancy date to you.”

“Minus the fancy,” Mylo added.

“Hey, I folded the napkins all pretty-like,” Powder huffed, pointing at the messily crumpled napkins.

Claggor grinned. “They look great, Pow.”

Vander walked over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Didn’t want the night to end without showin’ you how much you mean to us.” His voice was low, warm. “To me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled up at him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

He chuckled. “Of course I did.”

The kids were already pulling you toward the table, eager to show off their work. The food was simple but filled with love, laughter bouncing between the walls of the home you shared.

Maybe you didn’t get your quiet, romantic evening out. But you had something better—a family, a home, and a man who loved you enough to turn a missed date into a night you’d never forget.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

MEL

A folded note rests on your bedside table in the early morning light—a simple message in elegant handwriting:

“Meet me where forgotten dreams glow tonight. – Mel”

That single line tugs at your curiosity all day. As dusk falls, you follow her cryptic invitation through the maze of back alleys and quiet streets of the city—a route Mel always seemed to know, one that bypasses the neon glare for something a little more raw and real.

You arrive at a long-forgotten courtyard, tucked away behind crumbling brick walls and overgrown ivy. There, under a canopy of soft, flickering lanterns, stands Mel. Clad in a blend of edgy sophistication—a tailored jacket paired with vintage boots and just enough mystery in her eyes—she radiates an aura of rebellion and grace.

A gentle smile plays on her lips as she greets you. “I know the world expects grand gestures,” she begins, her voice low and playful, “but I thought tonight we could have something more…authentic.”

Mel has transformed this hidden nook into a secret haven. A small table is set for two with mismatched vintage chairs, the surface adorned with wildflowers that seem to have sprung from the very soul of the place. The soft strains of a soulful melody float in the air from a well-worn record player, setting the tone for an evening that feels both intimate and adventurous.

As you settle into the cozy setup, Mel shares snippets of her day—stories of chasing the city’s pulse, of diving into forgotten corners to uncover hidden beauty. “I spend so much time chasing after chaos,” she admits with a half-smile, “but tonight, I’m chasing something real.” There’s a sincerity there that warms you more than any candlelight.

Between bites of delectable treats and quiet laughter, the city’s relentless pace seems to melt away. When the record changes and the music grows softer, Mel leads you along a narrow staircase to a rooftop overlooking a tapestry of twinkling city lights. There, with the hum of urban life far below and a blanket of stars overhead, she stops and turns to face you.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, drawing you close, “the most unexpected paths lead to the most enchanting destinations.” In that suspended moment, you feel the promise of something genuine—a love that thrives in the hidden spaces between chaos and calm.

And as you share a tender kiss beneath the night sky, you realize that Mel’s Valentine’s Day isn’t about elaborate plans or public displays. It’s about crafting a secret escape where every heartbeat, every whispered word, is a reminder that even in a tumultuous world, love finds a way to glow.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

EKKO

In the heart of Zaun, Ekko’s day always felt like a race against time—and today was no exception. Amid the clatter of tools and the hum of his latest gadget, tiny glowing orbs—the fire lights—danced erratically around his cluttered workshop. Their flickering sparks illuminated his workbench as he fine-tuned a device meant to bend time itself.

So absorbed was he in his work that he almost forgot what day it was. That is, until a particularly bright fire light zipped up beside him and chirped, “Hey, Ekko! It’s Valentine’s Day!”

Startled, he paused mid-adjustment. In an instant, the other fire lights converged into a sparkling, playful swarm. Their lights blinked in what you could almost call a chorus of mischief. One of them—its voice soft but insistent—seemed to say, “We’ve got this, boss. You wood take care of yourself tonight—and go on your date!”

Ekko blinked, a sheepish grin breaking through. How could he have been so wrapped up in keeping these little sparks safe that he’d lost track of the day meant for him and you? With a few quick taps on a panel, he set the fire lights to “self-manage” mode (they’d proven they could handle a little chaos on their own), then grabbed his jacket and dashed out.

Moments later, you found him waiting on the bustling streets of Zaun, his eyes alight with a mix of urgency and genuine affection. “Sorry I almost left you hanging,” he said, a playful edge in his tone. “These little rascals nearly made me miss our date.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his flustered apology. Hand in hand, you and Ekko slipped away from the familiar clang and clamor, heading toward a quiet rooftop tucked above the city’s neon glow. Up there, away from the incessant buzz of machinery and misbehaving fire lights, the chaos softened into a serene promise of time just for the two of you.

As twilight deepened, Ekko’s usual confidence gave way to a rare vulnerability. “I might be great at bending time,” he murmured, gazing out over the city, “but I’d trade every second of it if it meant missing a moment with you.”

That night, with Zaun’s lights twinkling like distant memories below, Ekko and you shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the kind of silence that spoke volumes. The fire lights, safely taking care of themselves back at the workshop, had given Ekko the gift of presence—reminding him that no matter how busy life gets, there’s always time for love.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

CAITLYN

Caitlyn is nothing if not precise, even when it comes to something as simple as Valentine’s Day. While everyone else is scrambling with last-minute plans or awkwardly trying to put together some grand gesture, Caitlyn has already thought of everything—because that’s just how she works.

You wake up to the sound of your doorbell ringing, a little earlier than usual. When you answer, you find a basket of neatly wrapped gifts—each one with a small note, perfectly handwritten by Caitlyn.

The first note reads: “For a perfect start to your day. I’ve already planned the rest, don’t worry.”

Inside the basket is your favorite breakfast—freshly baked pastries and a thermos of tea, exactly how you like it. You smile at the thoughtfulness.

By midday, Caitlyn picks you up, her usual posture calm and collected. She’s dressed in a light lavender dress, a bit more delicate than her usual attire, and the warmth in her eyes betrays her usual cool demeanor.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says softly, offering you a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ve arranged something special for us.”

She takes you to a secluded garden, one that you’ve never visited before. It’s quiet and serene, filled with vibrant flowers in bloom and a soft breeze that carries the scent of the blossoms. There’s a small table set for two, surrounded by fairy lights that twinkle as the sun starts to set.

Caitlyn smiles as you look around. “I thought we could have a quiet evening, away from everything. Just you and me.”

Dinner is light and elegant—small bites, fresh fruit, and a carefully chosen wine. Caitlyn insists on pouring, her hands steady and practiced. The evening unfolds slowly, with soft conversation, gentle laughter, and the quiet sound of the wind rustling the leaves.

At the end of the night, Caitlyn leads you to a small bridge overlooking a pond, the stars just beginning to twinkle above. She hands you a delicate silver necklace, a charm shaped like a key.

“I thought you might like this,” she says, voice soft. “A reminder that you hold the key to my heart, always.”

You take the necklace, fingers brushing hers as you clasp it around your neck. Caitlyn steps closer, wrapping her arms around you. “I know I can be… a little formal sometimes. But with you, I can be myself.”

And for Caitlyn, on Valentine’s Day, that’s more than enough. A perfect, quiet evening, with the person who means everything to her. It’s not about grand gestures or over-the-top displays of affection—it’s about the subtle, meaningful moments she shares with you.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

VI

Vi is a bit of a softie, though she’ll never admit it. So when Valentine’s Day rolls around, she might not have grandiose gestures or flashy gifts, but she’s got something just as meaningful—a day with you.

The morning starts off with a surprise: you wake up to the smell of coffee brewing and the faint sound of music playing from the other room. When you step out, there she is, in her usual leather jacket, but with a big grin and her hair slightly messier than usual.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she says, a little too casually, like she’s not trying to act extra sweet. “I made you breakfast.”

It’s not gourmet, but it’s exactly what you like—scrambled eggs, toast, and a side of bacon with a mug of coffee that’s just the right temperature. She hands you the plate with a little wink. “Figured I’d get you ready for whatever the day brings.”

You tease her a little, “So, what’s the plan? More punching things?”

She chuckles, but there’s a warmth in her eyes. “I had a better idea.”

By midday, you’re not in the Lanes, not fighting, but instead walking hand-in-hand through a quieter part of the city. Vi’s in no rush today, taking her time to show you a side of Piltover you’ve never seen—the small spots where the crowds don’t linger, the quiet parks where the sound of the wind in the trees is louder than the noise of the streets.

She’s been sneaking glances at you all day, her usual tough-girl attitude softened by the way she holds your hand, her thumb rubbing over your knuckles. And when you both stop at a secluded spot overlooking the city, she pulls out a small, simple gift—a hand-carved pendant, rough but beautiful.

“Had this made for you,” she says, voice unusually shy. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted you to have something that reminds you of me—something that doesn’t have to get destroyed.”

You can see the effort behind it—the thoughtfulness she’s not always known for. And when you kiss her, she holds you close, just a bit longer than usual.

Later, the two of you end up on a rooftop, watching the sun dip below the skyline. She leans into you, her weight comfortable and familiar. “I don’t need the whole world to know how much you mean to me. But I think I can show you, at least.”

Vi’s Valentine’s Day might not have been grandiose, but it was all the more special for how real it was. And as you sit there, wrapped up in her warmth, you know that in her own way, she’s giving you everything you need.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

AMBESSA

Ambessa Medarda is not a woman of half-measures. She doesn’t do anything small—not in war, not in power, and certainly not when it comes to you.

You don’t even realize she’s planned something until the morning of Valentine’s Day, when a personal envoy arrives at your door with a message written in her sharp, elegant script:

“Be ready by sunset. Wear something you’ll want to be seen in.”

The rest of the day is a blur of anticipation. When the evening arrives, a private airship—yes, airship—is waiting to take you to a location kept secret until the moment you arrive.

And where does she take you? A grand feast in a palace lit by candlelight? A secluded getaway on a floating estate?

No. Ambessa Medarda doesn’t just take you to dinner—she owns the evening. The entire venue, a stunning high-rise overlooking Piltover, has been reserved exclusively for you. The table is draped in silk, the food prepared by the best chefs in the city, and the wine? A rare vintage, likely acquired through means you don’t want to question.

She’s already waiting when you arrive, dressed in regal attire that commands attention. Ambessa smirks as she looks you over, eyes sharp with appreciation.

“You clean up well,” she says, offering her hand. When you take it, she presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles, her grip firm—possessive, even. “Come. I intend to make tonight very memorable.”

Dinner is filled with sharp conversation, teasing remarks, and the kind of tension that leaves your skin burning under her gaze. She watches you like a hunter who already knows they’ve won. And she has. Because at the end of the night, when she leads you to the edge of the balcony, showing you the city glittering below, she leans in, voice low against your ear:

“Tell me, my love—how shall I conquer you next?”

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

SEVIKA

Sevika doesn’t do Valentine’s Day. At least, that’s what she claims every time someone brings it up. She scoffs at the idea of cheesy gifts, overpriced drinks, and love-drunk couples wandering the Lanes.

But when it comes to you? She’s got a soft spot—one she tries really hard to hide.

You don’t expect much from her today, and honestly, you’re okay with that. Just having her around is enough. But Sevika? She always finds a way to surprise you.

After a long shift at The Last Drop, she shows up at your door with a bag of your favorite takeout and a bottle of top-shelf liquor (the good kind, not the cheap stuff she hands out to randoms at the bar). She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just hands it over with a gruff, “Figured you’d want somethin’ decent to eat.”

You grin. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

“Tch. If I was askin’, you’d know it.”

But she doesn’t argue when you pull her inside, setting up a quiet dinner away from the usual chaos. She lets you play whatever music you want, even if it’s the sappy kind she pretends to hate. Somewhere between bites, she reaches into her coat pocket and tosses something onto the table—a small, worn-out metal lighter.

Your brows furrow. “You… got me a lighter?”

Sevika leans back, exhaling smoke from the cigar she just lit. “Had it for years. Lucky, or whatever. Thought you might wanna hold onto it.”

It’s not flowers, it’s not chocolates, but it’s her. A quiet, unspoken way of saying she cares.

You press a kiss to her jaw, feeling the way her muscles tense before she huffs out something close to a chuckle.

“Alright, alright, don’t get all sentimental on me.” But when she pulls you into her lap a second later, her grip firm and steady, you know exactly what she means:

She loves you—even if she’ll never say it outright.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

JINX

Jinx isn’t really one for traditional romance. She thinks all the pink and red hearts everywhere are kinda corny, but when it comes to you? She’s willing to make an exception—her way.

The day starts with chaos, because of course it does. You wake up to the sound of something crashing in the other room, followed by Jinx swearing under her breath. When you step out, she’s standing in the middle of a mess, surrounded by streamers, confetti, and what used to be a heart-shaped cake. She looks up at you, cheeks smudged with frosting.

“…Okay, so maybe baking’s not my thing,” she mutters, arms crossed.

You laugh and help her clean up, stealing a bit of frosting from her cheek just to see her pout. “We could always just buy something.”

“Nah, nah, I got a way better plan.”

And by that, she means dragging you all over Zaun for a Jinx-style date. It’s reckless, messy, and somehow perfect. She takes you to the rooftops, where she’s set up a little hideout with pillows, blankets, and snacks she “borrowed” from various shops. There’s even a bouquet of flowers, though some of the petals are missing—probably from her carrying them around all day.

“Ta-da!” She throws her arms out, grinning wide. “Romantic, huh?”

You sit with her under the neon glow of the city, watching the lights flicker. She fidgets a little before pulling something from her pocket—a small, handmade charm, rough around the edges but undeniably her.

“Made this for ya,” she says, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Y’know, so ya always got a piece of me with ya.”

Your heart melts. You kiss her, and for once, she’s quiet—until she pulls back with a teasing smirk. “Alright, alright, don’t get all mushy on me. I got one more surprise.”

And that’s how you end up running from enforcers because Jinx thought fireworks in the middle of Piltover were a fantastic idea. But honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

AHHH!!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!

I WANT FOOD

[robynlilyblack]

Begging for forgiveness or asking permission?

Fred Weasley x fem! shy! reader

Summary: After years of forbidding anyone from dating their daughter, a certain redhead finally gains the courage to ask their permission

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food, eating, drinking and alcohol, mutal pining, best friends to future lovers, ex Hufflepuff reader, overprotective wolfstar dads, non volley au, pure fluff

A/n: 2.3k words, apologies for any mistakes, happy new year everyone, based on this request from a little while ago ♡

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist

Fred fiddled with his fingers, slow, unsteady breaths leaving his lips as he tried to ease his nerves. The confidence he’d had last night was gone now that he sat at breakfast. The chatter around him was lively, fun, he could hear his twin recounting one of his favourite pranks from last year to the rest of the table, but all he could think about was you.

You and he had been friends for years now. It all started in his fifth year when he collided with you at a corner while running from your respective prankees…

Start of flashback

“Ugh…fuck…” Fred groans, gritting his teeth as he felt the impact of his arse on cold stone before his eyes flick up, registering your figure across from him, whining with your eyes closed, hand to your head as he realises he just ran full pelt into you “Are…ahh…are you alright?” he asks, wincing a little as he moves to his knees, kneeling before you with his hands hovering around your head, unsure whether it was appropriate to check on you

“Been better” you giggle a little, hand falling from its place as you look up at him “Are you okay?” you ask, smiling shyly as you notice his wary hands before he moves them 

He relaxes at your smile, chuckling to himself as he hums “A bit achy but I’m alright” he assures and your smile brightens, however the conversation is interrupted by two distinct yells 

“Weasley!”

“Lupin!”

In that moment, Fred was bamboozled, his eyes darting between Filch, angrily approaching down his corridor, and a rather pink-looking Snape coming up yours. Luckily, you weren’t in such a daze. Grabbing his hand, you tugged him up.

“Come on” you say in a hurried yet sweet tone

“Yes, ma’am” he smirked, allowing you to lead him as you hopped quickly through one of the archways and across the courtyard to your escape.

End of flashback

After that, you and Fred met often. Your friendship wasn’t exactly secret, but to your family and friends, it all appeared surface-level. They didn’t know about the pranks you both pulled together back at Hogwarts, or how you would gush to each other about everything and anything, or how you both purposefully chose flats nearby after graduation. No, to the rest of the world, you and Fred were nothing more than acquaintances and neighbours.

“Morning” you greet the table softly, a sleepy smile across your face as you walk over to the kitchen, automatically melting into the conjoined hug of your parents

Fred can’t help but smile a little as he looks away from the scene and back to the table. Over the years, your friendship has grown into something more. There hadn’t been some defining moment when his friendly sentiment matured into love, it was the gradual kind of love, slow, inevitable, until his heart only had room in it for you

“You alright, sweetie?” Fred's head raises at Lily’s voice across from him “You’ve been quiet this morning?” she checks in, her maternal affection warming his heart

His parents were spending the Holidays with Bill and Fleur as she was too close to her due date to travel this year, and the Potters had been more than happy to invite the rest of the Weasley clan to stay with them instead

“Oh, I’m grand” he brushes off her concern “Think I had a bit too much firewhiskey last night” he jokes, earning some laughs from those around him and a small shoulder squeeze from George

George, however, knew he was lying. He’d noticed how different his twin had been acting lately, especially this holiday. Still, he kept his distance, knowing Fred would come to him eventually, just he always did. That didn’t stop him from worrying all the same

“You sure?” he whispers, eyeing his twin

“Yeah, I’ll be okay, promise” Fred assures, gifting a fond smile 

Conversation flows again once more as Sirius and Remus join the table, recounting the previous evenings events and filling those who tapped out early on the later escapades. You sit down a few moments later, carefully carrying your mug of hot chocolate, being cautious not to lose any of your marshmallows along the way

“Merlin y/n…” George chuckles as you take a seat across from him “...you want some hot chocolate with those mallows?” 

You smile quietly at the teasing, though Fred’s sure if he was any closer, he would be able to feel the heat from your cheeks

“Leave her alone” Ginny jumps to your defence, gently elbowing her brother “You’re just jealous you don’t have one” she teases him back before shooting a wink in your direction

You giggle at that, as does Fred, looking at you fondly as the table settles back into quiet conversation. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to meet his, sleep still clinging to them as you mouth a small ‘hi’. He returns the greeting, and your soft eyes linger on his for a few moments before your smile deepens, and you turn away beginning to fill your plate with the mornings feast

Fred was sure you felt the same way as he did. Nothing was ever said aloud, but there were clear signs, from the soft grazing of hands to stolen glances at lips, even moments like the one just now, littered with quiet confessions and longing. But today was the day that was all going to change. Today was the day he would ask you to be his, but first he had to overcome one major obstacle…your parents.

They were the overprotective type, to the point every boy in this room, plus Ginny, had been given the talkfrom them at one point or another, practically forbidding them from ever dating you. Fred got the talk during his final year at Hogwarts when you and he were paired together in  Herbology. Word had gotten back that you and he had been spending time together in the library. Of course, after he explained you two were merely working on your project, they lightened up, but he never forgot how relieved they were, nor how his talk seemed far more intense upon hearing others recount their own

“Alright” Sirius announces as he stands up, Remus following “Anyone need anything else from the shops? Last orders before the shops shut” he claps his hands lightly 

“We need some more rum for the pudding” James asks, earning a hum of acknowledgement from Sirius, while Remus shares a knowing look with Lily who had, in fact, helped him in polishing off the last of the rum the night before

“Dad, could we get some big marshmallows to make s’mores?” you speak up “With the good chocolate?” you add shyly, flashing those adorable eyes of yours that they could never resist, not that they ever did

“Of course, pup” Remus chuckles, secretly excited himself, now had an excuse to buy more chocolate for his stash without arousing Sirius’ suspicion “Well, if that's everything, we’ll be off”

Remus and Sirius gave a quick wave as they headed out of the room to grab their coats while Fred sits in thought. This was his chance, an opportunity to grab your parents alone 

“Where are you off to?” George asks as Fred stands up, drawing the attention of the entire table

Fred flashes a smile, mostly for you and George as your brows furrow in concern “I’m going to give them a hand. Could use the fresh air to wake me up” he says, keeping up his hungover façade, everyone seems to buy it except yourself and George, however, you both let it go for now as he heads off to catch up with your fathers 

Fred hurried out into the cold, his coat only half on as he spotted your parents. 

“Merlin they walk fast” he mutters, jogging to catch up while his thoughts race 

This is it. Just ask. They’re reasonable men. They won’t murder you on sight… probably

“Hey! You two need a spare hand?” Fred called, finally tugging his coat into place.

The men turn around, glancing at one another before pleasant surprise crosses their faces 

“Course, more the merrier. Young lad like yourself can help us carry” Sirius shrugs happily while Remus gestures, hithering for him to join

As they all trecked through a fresh coat of snow, the conversation is light. They ask of his family, the shop, his and George’s plans for expansion to Hogsmeade next summer. Fred is thankful, it gives him the chance to actually connect with them one on one, he asks about their school days, their best pranks, the map. He even learned how they came to the decision to adopt you, leading to a small ramble from Sirius about how proud he was of you on the way back…

“...you know she's just like Moony when he was young…” he says, referring to your shy nature “...though she does have a cheeky side, I know this will surprise you, but she’s a little chatterbox when she gets going…” he continues on

Fred tries his best to hide his smile. It did not surprise him, he adored your rambles, especially that little bounce you did when you were excited 

Remus chuckles, gently interrupting his husband off “As much as I love your chatter my love. I’m curious to hear more about how you're doing?” he redirects, his voice kind but pointed “You’ve told us about the shop but…” he trails off, searching for the right words

Sirius, as usual, cuts straight to the point “A little birdy may have let slip that you’re going through a bit of a dry spell” 

Fred’s eyes widen, cheeks reddening as he’s taken aback “Ugh…well…umm” he strugges, unable to find words, which only made the couple in front of him chuckle

“I’m sorry Fred, my husband lacks a degree of subtlety…” Remus says, shooting Sirius a look but said man is seemingly unbothered, likely stuck on the word husband and the love sick glow it gave him “What we mean is we’ve noticed ourselves you’ve been a little off since you got here, like your mind is elsewhere” Remus continues “And, well, we may have been talking to George last night. I asked him how things were going with Lee; he mentioned that you’d stopped going out much. He seemed quite worried about you”

Fred lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck “It’s true. I’ve stopped going out as much as I used to” he agrees, though he did not expect this to be the direction this conversation was going

“Growing out of it?” Sirius’ asks, head tiltin with an understanding smile “Happened to me once upon a time” 

“You’re half right” Fred admits with a small nod “I have grown a lot since Hogwarts but…there also a reason why nothing ever worked out for the long run” his voice steadies, realising the conversation was leading in the direction he needed it to, his thoughts becoming clearer

This is it. Just say it

“Is there someone special?” Remus asks softly, and Sirius’ expression shifts from mild curiosity to sudden realisation, Fred Weasley, major flirt and prankster extraordinaire has fallen in love

Fred’s eyes flick between the two men, inhaling deeplt before speaking, his voice filled with conviction “Well…that's actually why I offered to help today. I’m in love with your daughter” 

Silence

Fred watches their eyes widen in surprise before their expressions become unreadable. The weight of his confession lingered in the chilly air and he braces himself. They clearly hadn’t been expecting that, and there was still a very real chance he was about to decked at the side of the road 

“You…” Sirius blinks a few times, shaking his head slightly “You…love her? Not just some passing infatuation or…forbidden fruit nonsense?” he poses holding himself back, his tone wasn’t cruel but the question stung nonetheless

Fred stands his ground, his voice firm yet sincere “I do. Very much. I know I haven’t always been the most shining example, but…loving her is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. She’s my best friend. I feel safe around her, seen, listened to…even adopted her rambling” his voice softens, getting a little embarrassed at his gush “She’s my favourite person…don’t tell Georgie” he adds at the end with a nervous laugh

Remus’ expression remains stoic, but Sirius’ soften slightly at Freds sincerity 

“Are you begging for forgiveness…” Remus finally asks “…or are you asking for our permission”

Fred’s lips quirk into a small smile “Permission” he confirms without hesitation

Remus and Sirius stare at him for a moment, then glance at one another, something unspoken passing between them

“Do we mess with him?” Sirius whispers to Remus, his hand covering his mouth as he lets a cheeky grin slip through

“As fun as that would be, I think he’s waited long enough” Remus replies softly ”...and so has our pup” 

After a few more moments to let Fred think they were really debating the issue Remus turns back towards him and nods “Yes” he says simply

Fred blinks “Seriously?” 

Sirius rolls his eyes playfully “Yes, seriously. But if you hurt her…” his tone turns deadly sirius “We will kill you” he warns

Fred smiles wide, relief and joy washing over him “Understood” he nods, but his excitement can no longer be contained “Thank you!” he lunges forward pulling them both into a tight hug, practically lifting them off the ground

Sirius chuckles “Alright…alright! Put s down before we change our minds”

Fred awkwardly sets them down, cheeks red but still wears a huge smile, one that wont be getting wiped off anytime soon. The three resume their walk back to the Potters, but on the way back Sirius glances over his shoulder at Fred

“So, when are ya planning on telling her? Tonight?”

Fred freezes mid step

Remus stops too, a knowing laugh escaping him “You have no idea, do you?”

“Honestly?” Fred admits, a sheepish grin spreading across his face “I didn’t think I’d get this far”

Thank you for reading ♡

[catboyieejeno]

bf! intak who falls asleep on your shoulder during car rides and plane rides instead of the other way around. probably drools a little too, but you don’t have it in you to wake him up because his eyes are half opened and his cheek is completely smooshed. so endearing, it would be a crime to disturb him :(

bf! intak who blushes furiously when you kiss his cheek. kisses on the lips are phenomenal, and they are his absolute favorite—but there’s something so sweet about you giving him a kiss on the cheek, especially when you have to stand on your tippy toes and rest your hands on his chest.

proceeds to hold your hands where they rest, looking down to hide the flustered, dorky smile that takes over his features.

“one more” he’ll ask, giving you the softest, pleading eyes. “please?”

bf! intak who blows raspberries on your tummy, and kisses it after. who also has a habit of playing with your fingers, or your rings if you’re wearing any. who has to be touching you at all times, whether it’s a hand on your hip, or your knee, or the small of your back. has to be touching you, and if he isn’t because you’re not nearby, he’ll perk his head up, and look around until he spots you. jogs over and fits his hand into yours with a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling “i was wondering where you went :(“ “but it’s okay!” he beams “cause i found you!”

bf! intak who wakes you up by accident every morning when his lips press into your shoulder or your neck or your jaw. the funny thing is: he’s still asleep. he’s kissing you and nuzzling into you in his sleep with his warm cheek pressing against yours and his hair tickling your face. his arm pulls you tighter to him when you stir, and finally, he wakes up when you stretch, in fear that you actually meant to get up.

“don’t get up yet… please, you’re s’warm..”

“intak, baby, i was just stretching.”

“come closer >:(“

scowls but with his eyes closed until you’re completely wrapped around him and under the mountain of blankets again.

bf! intak who always insists on showering with you. 9/10 times, he’s in there with you, and 6/10 times, it isn’t even sexual. he’s making a mohawk out of your hair with shampoo, and molding his own hair to match with a silly grin on his face. he’s scrubbing your face wash lovingly onto your cheeks and kissing your nose as you smile up at him (then proceeds to wash his face like a MAN all rough and crazy, which earns him a bit of a scolding from you). he holds you under the water and steals little pecks as the water bill gets higher and higher (at this point, you would’ve saved more water taking separate showers).

if you guys are playing music he’s singing loudly between giggles and designating parts so that you guys can put on a little concert. If there’s no music then he’s bickering with you about how you’re hogging the hot water, so he pushes you out of the way. only stays there for a few seconds though, cause the thought of you being cold makes his heart break a little. switches sides with you again with a little feigned annoyance, but even when you insist you aren’t cold he convinces you to stay under the hot stream.

bf! intak who tries his best to cook for you, following recipes of foods you’ve liked to the very last detail. refuses to let you help, but will allow you to sit on the counter as his personal cheerleader so he can steal a kiss or two or ten as he works.

is so careful to measure everything right, letting you try it along the way (only after he’s approved of the taste himself). watches for your reaction so so eagerly and smiles SO big if you say it’s good.

bf! intak who loves being praised by you. sometimes even fishes for compliments because any kind of approval from makes his heart so full and makes him feel so loved! “don’t i look handsome today?” or “did i do a good job?”

whether you compliment his outfit or his looks, or you simply tell him thank you for something, he’s over the moon

bf! intak who is has such a huge heart and gives it over to you completely. it’s yours! so don’t break it. falls first and falls harder, from the very first moment he sees you is so whipped. willing to give you absolutely everything and anything you want.

is so gentle, so considerate, so caring, so intak.

truly your best friend & lover all in one.

[comingdownwithme]

is... is that a kate I see..? Can.... can we get information on her? I beg

Just gonna drop both Toby and Kate here to finish off the proxies- (Didn't include Tim or Brian since apparently they're not proxies but also because I haven't watched MH yet </3)

Anyways, there will be some descriptions of body horror (for Kate specifically) but it will be warned before each paragraph!

Kate the Chaser

Kate Milens was raised by the Woods for most of her life, growing up unafraid of the wilderness that grew beyond the walls of her childhood home. After a series of unfortunate events as she grew older though, and as her baser human instincts push her to run despite the ache of her injured and weary limbs, Kate found that there really was something to fear beyond the treeline. She could hear it speak, it's voice a cacophony that echoed around her- within the base of her own skull- offering her reprieve and a greater purpose if she would just give in.

[DESCRIPTIONS OF BODY HORROR FOR THIS PARAGRAPH] Woke up unable to recall anything that had happened before she first awoke and with a dull ache akin to the sting of a healing injury over every muscle and joint of her body. Found out later on that the skin over her jaw and nose had been flayed, fresh burns mark her limbs, and maggots had once burrowed into her very flesh. They're healed now thanks to him.

Gloves and hoodie are stolen from her victims, and her shirt, boots and jeans are what she had woken up in. She washes them the best she can in nearby rivers.

Good hunter and a decent cook. Usually provides food for both herself and Toby when she can.

White eyes! And they glow! Spooky! They give her pretty good night vision, but that leads her to being sensitive to light.

Despite the both of them being close proxies, Kate is more connected to the slenderman than Toby is. Where she can hear him despite great distances, Toby needs to be at a certain, close radius to hear the slenderman, though the both of them could still recognise when he's near and if they're needed.

Faster than Toby. She's called The Chaser for a reason, and trying to outrun or outlast her is the worst mistake you could make.

Pretty quiet and doesn't talk often with her fellow proxy when he's around. She's more of a listener and listens (and or zones out) of any topic Toby is on about.

Ticci Toby

Tobias Erin Rogers was someone who's deeply familiar with the feeling of isolation. Being ostracised from a young age due to circumstances he can't control, his only reprieve was the company provided by his older sister and the sons of the family just down the street from his own home, though even that wouldn't last as Toby's only friends were torn away from him, and both his mother and sister had passed not long after they had left, leaving Toby alone with a sorry excuse of a father and an empty house.

Fortunately for him, something had noticed his suffering, and it reached an elongated, outstretched hand as it gave him the option to leave this life behind.

Whereas he was a quiet, introverted boy when he was younger, Toby currently is outgoing, excitable and manic, and is often careless during the job due to his general demeanor and the fact he can't feel pain. This also leads him to be fascinated by how his victims feel pain, and he likes to study their reactions.

He's got special eyes like Kate! They don't glow in the dark like hers does, but he does still have night vision.

Pyromaniac! If he could, he'd take the opportunity to set his victims on fire or set their shelters or belongings on fire. He's also in charge of setting controlled burns in the areas of the slenderman's territory where he needs him to.

When desperate times call for desperate measures, Toby won't hesitate to turn to cannibalistic tendencies on his victims.

Physically stronger than Kate.

Absolutely ass cook, don't let him near a stove.

The hoodie he wears under his parka and the axes he holds are some things he brought from the life he left behind, most everything else was stolen off his victims.

Nose piercing! He knows he must have had it before he became a proxy, but if he thinks about it too hard, he'd start getting a headache or start tearing up.

Visions of his past life sometimes slip through, though unlike Kate's where hers are rare and short-lived, Toby's memories slip often, especially when he's asleep where whatever past life he had left behind twists to haunt him in his nightmares. These instances piss him off, and he sees them as a moment of weakness.

[st4ringlow]

Hi do you happen to take a request. If you up for it can I request fratboy atsumu and make it hurt/comfort wheter it's misunderstanding cz you know he is so popular or anything that you like. Love your job btw and you can ignore my request if you are not into it ♡♡♡

a misunderstanding between fratboy!atsumu and fem!reader.

hurt, comfort, vulgar words used.

note: hello! thank you so much for the request. sorry this took long, these weeks has been so busy and i've only got a chance to write it this afternoon. this hits hard while im writing because i experienced the same thing, but instead of reassurance i got dumped lol XD. i hope you enjoy my own interpretation of this prompt.

more fratboy!atsumu here!

dating fratboy!atsumu is wonderful, yet it comes with consequences.

the constant social events, the parties, and being under the scrutiny of his frat brothers can be overwhelming. however, the fear of not being enough for someone as popular as atsumu is your greatest concern. atsumu has a bunch of girls lined up for him, ready to take your place should the relationship end. you feel guilty of thinking this way, because your boyfriend has made it clear how much he loves you. the thought is slowly eating you up, and how bad it affects your emotions lately. you'd be so sensitive, which causes you to lash out on him for small or no reason at all, but you're grateful of how atsumu never once gets mad, instead offering reassurance you needed.

the atmosphere is vibrant with the crowd at the party, the sound of loud music, and an array of drinks and food spread out on a large table. you hadn't intended to go to a frat party with atsumu tonight, but you find yourself here regardless because it's suna's event. suna has always been nothing but kind to you, and you get along with him well, so it would feel rude not to attend tonight.

atsumu had left you on your own, engaging in conversation with his friends somewhere. as you mingle with familiar faces, trying to shake off the doubts in your mind, you catch a glimpse of atsumu across the room. he's talking to a girl, one you dont recognize. your stomach turns as you watch her, admiring her beautiful features and you suddenly feel ugly having her presence near you. not to say how sexy she looks, casually slaying any style that she wears. she's standing close to him, her body language open and flirty. she laughs at something he says, placing a hand lightly on his arm. atsumu smiles back at her, seemingly enjoying the conversation. the sight sends a jolt of jealousy through you. your heart was aching, so you decided to step outside to feel some fresh air. as you make your way to the door, you hear a couple of atsumu's frat brothers talking nearby.

"man, atsumu's only with her because she's safe. she's not like other girls, you get what i mean?"

"yeah, i give it a month before he gets bored and moves on. probably after he fucked her first, heard that she's a virgin," one of them said, earning chuckles from his peers.

"dude you seen the girl atsumu's talking to? man she's hot as hell, i bet he gets his cock wet with her instead of his girlfriend,"

the words sting, like salt on an open wound. you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you quickly leave the party. the fresh air outside does little to soothe the ache in your chest. you walk home, with every step feeling heavier than the one before, hurt and confusion swirl through your mind. you didnt care about atsumu who's still at the party, he can go have fun with his 'new girl'.

it wasn't long before atsumu came looking for you, only to realize that you had already left. "dunno dude, but i saw her crying when she got out of the house, i didnt ask because i thought you two had an argument or something," said a guy from atsumu's fraternity. what did he do? he thinks. not before his twin started asking the same thing, and he swore he felt like his life is on the line. "what the heck did ya do?" osamu's tone is mad, and he's second away from grabbing atsumu's collar and bash his head into the wall. "i dont know! i was just talking to midori and- " his eyes widen, finally realizing the reason why before smacking his head into his palm repeatedly. suna shakes his head. "better go now man, dont wanna mess up this one, yeah?" suna advised, patting on atsumu's shoulder before the blonde dashes outside and drove off.

atsumu's texts and calls remained unanswered. you activated do-not-disturb mode, silencing any notifications and calls from your boyfriend. your feet ached from the lengthy walk, and you regretted the impulsive decision you made earlier. suddenly, a honk startled you, and you turned to see a familiar vehicle—atsumu's car—slowing down to match your walking pace. despite this, your pride was unwavering, and you quickened your steps. atsumu's voice, calling out your name in an attempt to halt your progress, was audible.

"(y/n), baby! come on now!" he pleaded, but you continued to ignore him. striving to walk faster, the discomfort in your feet intensified. then, the sound of his car door closing followed by the approaching footsteps indicated he was coming after you.

"babe! c'mon, listen ta me," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. you kept walking, your emotions a whirlwind of hurt and confusion. finally, atsumu caught up to you, gently grabbing your arm to stop you. "please," he said, his voice softer now, "just let me explain,"

you stop, reluctantly turning to face him. his eyes were filled with worry and regret. "im sorry, m'kay? i didnt mean to make you feel that way," he began, his voice cracking slightly. "im sorry baby, midori is an old friend, and we have nothing going on, whether its in the past or now, we never had anything together,"

you looked away, the pain still fresh in your heart as you recalls those hurtful words you heard. "your frat brothers, they said some hurtful things. they said how you're only with me because im safe, and you're going to leave me right after you take away my virginity. and, how you're probably fucking with her behind my back,". you were choking back tears, overwhelmed by a wave of pain and guilt. "i feel worse, tsumu. i hate how i feel like im in a competition with all the pretty girls waiting for you to break it off with me, and- , and how im afraid im not enough with you, and you will leave me because you realized im not what you wanted,"

atsumu's grip on your arm tightened slightly, his eyes pleading for you to understand. he'll deal with those assholes later, right now his only concern is you. "fuck, 'm so sorry, sweetheart, im sorry," he said. tears welled up in your eyes. seeing your struggle, atsumu pulls you into a gentle embrace, his warmth offering a sense of comfort amidst the turmoil. "that's not true at all, my love for ya is genuine, those guys dont know shit about me, fuck," atsumu said, his tone filled with desperation and a slight anger. "yer perfect fer me, i fucking love ya so much. yer always be more than enough for me baby, so fucking gorgeous, perfect in every way, dont doubt it alright?" he confessed, feeling his eyes burning with tears.

"im so sorry. i should have noticed how ya were feeling," he murmured into your hair. "im here now, 'm not goin' anywhere. we'll get through this, i promise,"

you finally relax yourself in his arms, the hurt slowly beginning to fade. the raw honesty and vulnerability in his voice reassured you, and you felt a glimmer of hope.

the drive home was slow and filled with more heartfelt conversation. atsumu held your hand the entire time, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand as he reassured you of his love and commitment. by the time you reached home, you felt lighter, the misunderstanding serving as a catalyst for a deeper connection and renewed trust.

[werecreature-addicted]

I have been waiting for this! This has been stuck in my head since you mentioned how there's too many werewolf x bunny fics.

Imagine there's a village of prey hybrids. All the villagers that live there are some kind of prey animal.

The village is very peaceful, but is the target of a tribe of predator hybrids that dwell in the deepest part of the forest.

Every year, these predator hybrids would attack the prey village and would kidnap any villager unlucky enough to be caught.

These attacks typically happen around mid to late spring, from dusk to well into the night.

The prey villagers always hide around this time, but at least one to three people end up being taken.

Last year was one of the reader's friends. A sweet little sheep that was said to be taken by a large male black wolf. Poor girl was likely eaten by that horrible beast! (In a way she was eaten~)

This year, it is reader's turn.

Reader is a deer hybrid that got caught while out gathering food in the forest. Only to be jumped by a strong and handsome male mountain lion hybrid and taken back to his tribe.

There reader finds her friend as well as other people from her village, all well and alive and with large clearly pregnant bellies as well as a few children.

Turns out the predator tribe has been taking people from your village as their mates. Even treating their prey mates with the utmost care.

Something the reader will understand fully once she's been bred with her first litter of cubs.

your parents had always warned you to be careful when you left the safety of the village, especially during spring when nearby predators would go into heat and kill little deer girls like you to feed to keep up their strength. You were so careful, the fastest in the herd, the best at running away, no predator could ever catch you....other people weren't so lucky. Every year a few people would go missing, trail too close to the border, stay out foraging after sunset, and disappear.

Most of the time, you don't know the prey who gets taken, but sometimes you do, like when your best friend got dragged off by a horrifying wolf. You grieved the loss of your friend and redoubled your commitment to safety... but you got cocky. you were the fastest in your age group, no one could catch you, especially not some heavy, slow predator.

It's a warm spring evening, the breeze gentle and sweet, smelling like honeysuckle and green grass. the sunsets casting the valley in golden light, your basket is full of fat wild blackberries. how could anything go wrong on a day like this? A twig snaps to your right, and you turn and freeze, looking carefully at the tree line. you don't see anything... but your heart is still racing, by the time you spot the hungry green eyes peering up at you it's already too late. you take off running, but for once, you aren't fast enough.

The mountain lion pounces and lifts you off of your feet, throwing you easily over his broad shoulders, you freeze, your heart beating faster and faster, you need to think, he hasn't killed and eaten you yet- maybe you could escape, you just need to keep your head.

It's a much shorter journey to the preditor village than you would have thought, you'd never traveled far from home so you had no idea that they were so close this whole time. What's even more surprising is the amount of prey animals, wandering around town and looking happy. A rabbit boy with big floppy ears hanging off the arm of a buff-looking wolf, a deer hybrid like yourself flirting with two different lions, and a sheep- a sheep that you recognize. Your eyes go wide as it clicks into place. the people being taken weren't being killed at all.

The mountain lion puts you down and looks at you closely, evaluating you. "I wasn't too rough was I? You're not hurt?" he asks. you shake your head slowly

"n-no. I'm not hurt just- scared," you admit shyly. He nuzzles you comfortingly,

"awe, don't worry my mate, I'll keep you safe... I won't let anything happen to you, no one else will touch you while you're with me," he purrs and you shift, embarrassed to tell him that it was him you were afraid of. although you had to admit if this big scary mountain lion is guarding you, and claiming you as their mate, you do feel a little safer.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I know I've written about Daryl x reader in a relationship, but I'm rewatching The Walking Dead and UGH I love him...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISTP

Hufflepuff

Chaotic Good

Taurus Sun, Scorpio Moon, Aquarius Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・The perfect example of your marriage is that scene from Yellowstone at the bar. Here's the link. Warnings: Violence :)

・Yes, so you and Daryl have a very close relationship - it has taken you a long time to get to this point.

・But marriage meant you two would be staying together for life. And Daryl knew that. No one was taking you away from him.

・You two met at the very beginning; in the camp with Lori, Carl, Carol, Dale, Andrea, Shane, Glenn etc.

・You abhorred Merle and gave him as much as you could - cussing him out, calling out his actions etc. You were always right but Merle was Merle.

・And you grouped Daryl with his brother; although he didn't say much.

・When Merle wasn't around, you actually got the time to see Daryl differently.

・He was really growing on you.

・You had no idea that he was wrestling with certain feelings as well.

・Your relationship was ... a slowburn to say the least. But you always looked out for each other. Made sure one another had enough food and water.

・There developed a constant between the two of you. Where one went, the other wasn't far behind. Especially when the group would split up

・You always found your way back to each other

・And yet, neither of you could see how much the other cared. Even though the whole group - even the new members - could see it.

・Though he comes off as rough and gruff to most, Daryl would have a soft spot for you. You’d be the only one who gets to see his gentler, more vulnerable side.

・

𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹

・Daryl was anxious all day, you even saw his hands shake before he saw it and shoved them in his pockets.

・You were worried; he never kept anything from you. Not even when you were just best friends.

・So you went to Carol, she shrugged her shoulders and gave you that knowing look. It calmed your own nerves down, because when Daryl is anxious; you are tenfhold.

・That night you were getting ready for watch, but a knock came at the door.

・It was Michonne.

"Hey, you wanna come in? I'm gonna start my shift soon but I can make us something tea?"

"It's okay, and don't worry about your shift; I have something for you to do."

"Oh okay, sure."

・You followed Michonne past the gardens, the crops and up to the doors of Alexandria and out into the nearby forest.

"We ugh, made sure the area was clear. You don't need to worry about a thing."

・She gave you one of her knowing smiles and you knew something was up...it made you nervous.

・Once Michonne disappeared, you heard the crunching of leaves.

・Quickly you whipped out your knife and swiped as you turned, only to be met by a large hand grabbing your arm.

"Thought I taught ya better than tha'" Daryl said, letting go of your arm and giving you a smile

"You did. I knew it was you. Heavy boots were giving me a heads up."

・It was then that you noticed his appearance; washed, with a clean black button up shirt, and a fresh pair of jeans.

・You quirked an eyebrow.

"What is this Dixon?"

Hesitating, Daryl rubbed the back of his neck with his calloused hand, eyes darting briefly to the ground before meeting yours.

“Been thinkin’,” he started, shifting his weight between one leg to the other. “’Bout us… and all the shit we've gone through...”

You stepped closer to him. Closing the gap. And your heart started pumping a whole lot faster.

"-You know I ain’t good with words,” he muttered in a low voice. “Specially ain’t good at all this… romantic stuff. But you—you’re the best thing...that has ever happened to me. Hell, you're the only thing that makes sense in this goddamn world.”

・Your cheeks started to redden but you let him talk

From his pocket, Daryl pulled out something small and clenched in his hand, his fingers trembling just slightly.

You let out a soft, "oh." Thinking this day would never come.

When he opened his hand, there it was—a simple, gold ring.

“I know it ain’t much,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's perfect," the tears had started to fall now. You didn't even notice you had begun to cry.

Daryl sniffed, not realising he had shed a few tears as well. "...I just want you to know… you’re my family now. Always have been.”

He held the ring out to you.

"I don't know how long we have in this world. But I know I wanna spend it with you."

There was a moment of silence. One you let hang in the air, not truly believing this was happening.

"So… what d’ya say?”

・The look on his face was pure and full of love.

"God I love you Daryl Dixon."

・Slipping the ring on your finger, you realised how comfortably it fit. You gave Daryl a knowing look and he gave you a sheepish one.

"...measured your finger when you were sleepin'...also had help from Carol..."

You couldn't help but laugh.

"You know I'm getting you one, right? I want everyone to know you're taken. That Daryl Dixon is mine."

"Wouldn't expect anything else."

・Then he kissed like it was your very first and last kiss.

The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever felt—raw, deep, and so full of emotion that it left you breathless. His lips claimed yours with an intense passion.

His hands trembled slightly, and cradled your face. Holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world; well, to him you were.

Pulling apart, he rested his forget against your own and whispered:

“Ain’t never lettin’ you go.”

In that moment, the world outside could have crumbled, and it wouldn’t have mattered. All that existed was you and him.

𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹

・Being married to Daryl Dixon meant having someone completely and utterly loyal to you.

・He calls you his family; and when he does so, you know it comes from a place of deep sincerity and respect.

・Instead of grand romantic displays, Daryl shows his love in quiet ways, like fixing something for you, preparing food, or just staying by your side during tough times.

・Daryl would be the ultimate protector, keeping you safe at all costs.

・You have your own place together. Not too far from everyone but secluded enough that you feel independent

・A common part of your nightly routine is cuddling up together on the couch and eventually falling asleep. (Daryl already having locked all the doors and has weapons around the house - just in case. He's not leaving anything to chance.)

・You've both shared everything you know about survival with one another.

・One of your ideas was to make a book about it. How to survive in this mess of a world; Daryl has fully encouraged it. He said it would come in handy for the next generations...

・Daryl thrives in the quiet moments of your marriage—sitting together by a fire, riding his motorcycle with you behind him, working on something side by side in comfortable silence.

・He also has a way of surprising you with such tenderness. E.g., brushing hair from your face or resting his forehead against yours in silent appreciation.  

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

"Look at that stupid dumbass man, ha! Oh shit that's my dumbass-" (Daryl)

Short & bossy x Tall & follows them around

"Think they'll try us?" x "Fuck I hope so."

"Why Are You Babying Me?" (Daryl) x "'Cause I Know You Like It" (You)  

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Forced Proximity

Strong Feelings (Thinking It's Hate - WRONG It's Love)

Enemies to Lovers  

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon

Into My Arms by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

One More Hour by Tame Impala

[writerastray]

Recreate

General Masterlist - Read this before interacting

Disclaimer:

⚠︎ My works are all protected. I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share my work.

⚠︎ My work is only appropriate for adults over the age of 18. Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked.

-> Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/f!Reader

-> Word count: 4.2k

-> Rating: 18+→ Mature/Explicit

->Genre/Tropes: Romance, Mutual Pining, Romantic/Sexual Tension, One-shot, Fluff, Fun, (a sprinkle of angst), Smut. Other Additional Tags to Be Added. (Spoiler tags: Childhood Friends to Lovers.)

-> Warning tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Heartbreak, Writer's Block/Creative Struggles, Alcohol Consumption, Use of fake dagger? Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

-> Synopsis: Hyunjin, a successful author, can’t seem to write a decent romance scene anymore. When you, his childhood friend, visit him for the weekend and discover his creative block, you propose a bold solution: recreating the scenes together. The only catch? Hyunjin insists that you be his partner.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The coffee shop was about to close.

The streets were a bit busy, as it was almost Christmas time. Most of the stores were filled with people rushing to buy last-minute gifts.

The cold wind carried the scent of witch hazel from the flower shop nearby, mixed with the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon from street vendors. Beneath the glow of streetlights, the snow sparkled like scattered diamonds, and laughter echoed as couples and families hurried by, their breath visible in the frosty air.

Your feet didn’t move as you saw Hyunjin at the counter, smiling at a young lady as he completed her payment. It hadn’t been long—just a year and a half, in fact—but it felt like years since you had last seen him. He reminded you so much of when he was younger: playful eyes, still flirty, and that sweet smile that never failed to make your stomach flip.

After countless copies of his books were sold, he still lived above the coffee shop. You remembered when he asked you to help him move there. You still had that bittersweet taste in your mouth after leaving Hyunjin by himself and returning to the countryside alone.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your bag and crossed the street. The bell above the door chimed as you entered, and warmth immediately wrapped around you. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee blended with the buttery scent of croissants and the sweet spice of cinnamon rolls. Your stomach growled in response.

You walked to the counter, and your gaze met Hyunjin’s.

His eyes widened briefly before a slow smile tugged at his lips. Surprise melted into something sharper, a piercing stare that almost stole your breath away.

Tilting his head, he asked, “Why is there a witch in my coffee shop?”

You smiled back. “If you don’t want to be cursed,” you replied, leaning on the counter, “I’d suggest making me something to eat.”

“So demanding,” he said, shaking his head. “Give me five minutes.” He disappeared into the kitchen. His voice echoed from inside, and you couldn't help but smile at his loud giggle.

Looking around, you noticed an empty table in the corner near a wall full of quotes. One caught your eye: “I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” — Alice in Wonderland. It used to be Hyunjin's favorite as a child.

Hyunjin returned five minutes later, carrying a plate of food.

“Here you go, my dear witch.”

He sat across from you, his gaze fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing he’d seen in years. His black hair was slightly tousled, and it had grown since you last saw him, curling at the ends. His white shirt was rumpled, and yet he looked just as princely as the first time you met him as a child.

“What? Missed me that much?” you teased.

His brow arched slightly before he asked, “How are you doing, Y/N?” in that soft voice of his.

“To be honest, I’m doing well. Life has been kind to me.”

It had been five years since you moved to the countryside to live on your own. It was your dream since childhood, when you lived with your grandma during the summers; and even though all your friends were in the city for college, you chose to stay.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said. “And your grandma?”

“She’s on a cruise with my mom,” you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. “Can you imagine those two stuck together on a ship?”

He laughed, and you felt your heart race at the sight. His head tilted back, eyes crinkling into crescents.

“I give it two days before they’re at each other’s throats,” you quipped.

“Two days?” he said, still chuckling. “You’re being generous. Your grandma’s probably having the time of her life annoying your mom.”

The bell above the door jingled, and a small group of students entered, their chatter filling the cozy space. Hyunjin stood, brushing off his hands, still smiling. “Eat. You’re home—head upstairs when you’re done. They’re my last customers, and I’ll close up after.”

You nodded and turned your attention to the plate in front of you. The food was every bit as delicious as you’d hoped, and Minho hadn’t been exaggerating about the Tiramisu—it was the best dessert you had ever had.

After finishing, you gathered your things and started toward the stairs, only to hear Hyunjin call out. He jogged over, pulling something from his pocket. “Keys,” he said, his lips curling into a playful smirk as he tossed them to you.

You caught them midair, raising an eyebrow. “Still trusting me with these after all these years?”

He winked before turning back to the counter. “Always.”

His apartment was a blend of a library and an art studio. Bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with novels, sketchbooks, and scattered trinkets from his travels. Canvases rested against the corners of the room, some blank, others adorned with half-finished paintings. A faint scent of paint lingered in the air, mixing with the subtle sweetness of the winter jasmine that drifted in through the open balcony door. You chuckled. He hadn’t changed at all.

You walked to the guest room. It was simple, with just a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. You placed your bag in the corner and let yourself fall onto the bed. It was soft and smelled fresh—Hyunjin must have just put on clean sheets. You grabbed your phone and sent a message to your mom, letting her know you were at Hyunjin’s, and another in the group chat with your friends. You were here for your yearly winter reunion with your childhood friends. This year, it would be at Chan’s apartment.

The apartment door creaked open, followed by the sound of a lock clicking into place. Hyunjin’s voice carried through the quiet space. “Love?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft snort. His footsteps were nearly silent, but you sensed his presence before you saw him. He appeared in the doorway of the guest room, leaning casually against the frame, a bottle in hand. “Strawberry wine?”

The sweet wine slid down smoothly. It was dizzying in the best way, loosening muscles that had been tight since you’d stepped on the train to the city.

“So, the reunion,” Hyunjin started, swirling his glass of wine lazily. “Changbin’s girlfriend is coming. Nervous?”

Changbin had been your first love, and for a long time, you regretted ending things. You thought that if you’d been stronger, you might still be together. Maybe you could have fought harder, tried to make the long-distance relationship work. But you didn’t. Then time did its thing, and eventually, you moved on.

You met his gaze steadily, though the question tugged at an old scar. “He’s my best friend at the end of the day.”

This would also be the first time Hyunjin and Felix would be with the rest of the group in the same room.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said quickly. “Hard to believe, but I’ve moved on too.”

It was hard to believe. He had been a mess after his breakup. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

You were at Chan’s apartment that evening, watching a movie on the couch, when the door slammed open. Hyunjin stumbled in, his face red, tears streaming down his cheeks. His chest heaved as though he couldn’t catch his breath, one hand clutching the fabric of his shirt over his heart.

“It hurts,” he choked out. That was all he could manage before his knees gave out, and Chan rushed to catch him.

You’d only seen him like this once before, years ago, because of his parents. He clung to Chan like he was the only thing keeping him steady, reduced to sobs that wracked his entire body; his fingers digging into his friend’s shirt as he gasped for air between cries.

For days, he stayed in bed, barely speaking. He’d stare blankly at the ceiling or curl into himself, clutching a pillow as though it could shield him from the pain. It took weeks before he could even crack a small smile, and months before that smile felt genuine again.

“So, what’s your new book about this time?” you asked, wanting to talk about something else.

He groaned. “Nothing.”

You frowned. Hyunjin’s mind was never without a story. “What happened this time?”

He smiled faintly. “If I tell you, will you solve the problem?”

“No,” you said.

He eyed you. “Maybe.”

His eyebrow arched. “Probably,” you gave up.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re just like when we were kids, trying to solve all the problems in the world.”

“Don’t change the subject,” you said.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and licked his lips before meeting your gaze. “I know the story. It’s just... some scenes don’t feel natural. I think I don’t know how to write romance anymore.” Then, tilting his head with a smirk, he added, “Do you have a spell to fix it?”

You threw a cushion at his head as his laughter filled the night.

The next morning was a sunny Saturday. You stayed in bed for at least an hour before finally getting up. You hadn’t fallen asleep until 1 a.m., trying to come up with a solution to Hyunjin’s problem. You couldn’t help it; you loved solving them.

Eventually, an idea came to you.

Hyunjin was in the kitchen, wearing a white shirt so large it slipped off his collarbones, holding an apple in one hand.

“Isn’t it too early for you to bother me?” he mumbled.

You smiled at his annoyed tone. He had always been like that when he woke up at your grandma’s house after sleepovers.

“I thought about what you said last night,” you said, pouring coffee into a yellow mug and sitting across from him at the table. “About your writing.”

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Haven’t I told you not to bother with this?”

“Actually, no, you didn’t. Besides, when have I ever listened to you?”

He closed his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as if the words were hard to form. Then he rolled his eyes and said, “Speak.”

You sipped your coffee before continuing, “What if you tried recreating a scene? You know, live it out—get into the character’s head.”

He stilled mid-bite, his expression skeptical. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve heard a lot of writers do that. Whether it’s fight scenes or dance scenes, some even take classes to understand them better.”

“Tonight, you’re going back home,” he deadpanned.

You pressed on. “It can work. At least you should try it!”

Hyunjin was silent for a while before finishing his apple and taking a gulp of his coffee. He leaned back in his chair. “And I suppose the person I’d recreate it with would be you. Is that your way of telling me you’re interested in me?”

You looked away, embarrassed. “Of course not!” The warmth creeping up your neck betrayed your calm tone. “And it doesn’t need to be me. We can find someone you’re more comfortable with.”

He got up and came closer to you. His hands were in his pockets, but you felt caged by his stare. He looked up and put a hand to his lips, tilting his head slightly, until his whole body stopped.

His eyes met yours.

“It’s not you that’s the problem.”

“What is it then? You? It’s not me; the problem is you.” You sighed. “If your books are as cliché as you—”

“My books are good.”

“And if you want to write another one, you need to work on your field research.”

“Is that what you call making out with me?”

“It is now.”

He opened his mouth, then sank his teeth into his lower lip. For a moment, you couldn’t stop staring. When you realized you were mirroring his action, you looked into his eyes. He seemed to be searching for something, but then you saw his shoulders relax, and his eyes closed.

Hyunjin sighed dramatically, crossing the room to grab a notebook. “Fine. Let’s try it.”

“Wait—‘we’?” you asked, taken aback.

He turned, a sly grin spreading across his face. “You’re the one who suggested it, love. Field research, remember?”

Hyunjin leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. The faint glow of his laptop screen illuminated his concentrated expression. Next to him, you watched the rays of sunlight slip through the drawn curtains, while absently turned a fake dagger between your fingers—a prop he had picked up at one of his book signings. 

“So, they can’t be together, even if they have feelings for each other, because he’s immortal, and she has to die tomorrow for him to claim the throne and start a war?” you asked.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen.

“Got it.” But the truth was, you didn’t. Your hands were clammy, your heart pounding so loudly you wondered if he could hear it.

The way he avoided your eyes didn’t help. You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “If this makes you uncomfortable, we can find someone else—” 

“There’s no one else,” he answered, his tone firm. “And I’m not uncomfortable.”

You studied his face, looking for any hint of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and finally met your gaze. His stare sets you ablaze. We’ll only pretend. Nothing more, you remind yourself. 

You licked your lips before asking with a small smile, “Not even nervous?”

He arched an eyebrow. His hand brushed your waist, and you saw the shift in his eyes—intense and almost hypnotic.

“I don’t think I’m the only one who’s nervous,” he said. His smirk deepened, and, in one swift motion, he pulled you closer. “Whenever you’re ready, little witch,” he teased.

With slightly trembling hands, you grabbed the dagger and placed it against his throat.

“You think I won’t do it?” you said, reciting the line from his book, though your voice wavered.

"You don’t have the courage," he said, his voice low and taunting.

"Of course I have," you lied, gripping the dagger tighter.

His breath hitched, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes.

"So, do it," he whispered.

You don’t answer. Instead, you lean into him, your lips brushing his in a kiss that starts soft but deepens almost instantly.

 It took you to somewhere far from reality. Was that really happening? Were you really making out with your childhood friend for the sake of a book? 

His hand slides to the back of your neck and you tilt your head, pressing closer. He makes a low sound in his throat that sends a thrill through you.

When you finally broke apart, you were breathless, your lips swollen and your heart racing.  

Hyunjin’s gaze is heavy-lidded, staring at you, his pupils blown wide, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat.

Hyunjin’s lips twitched, his eyes darkening in amusement. “What’s wrong? Afraid to take the next step?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “No,” you shot back, though your voice wavered. 

You hadn’t expected kissing him to feel so… right.  Like finally finding the missing piece of a puzzle.

Hyunjin’s eyes searched for yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it lingered, testing you, daring you.

“Then prove it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you again, but he stopped short. His gaze flicked between your eyes and lips. “What would they do next?” 

You swallowed hard, caught between the roles you were meant to play and the reality of what you felt. “They wouldn’t stop.” 

Hyunjin’s lips curved into a smirk, “No,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t think they would.”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips again, and this time, there was no hesitation.

Hyunjin’s hand slides from your neck to your waist, pulling you into him until you're straddling his lap. The laptop, once forgotten, slides, together with the dagger, to the floor with a soft thud. 

Your breath hitches as his lips leave yours, trailing a hot, open-mouthed path along your jaw, neck, and the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans, the sound reverberating against your skin.

“You’re so…” Hyunjin’s voice falters, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his words almost too much to say. “Irresistible.”

You feel his lingering smirk as his hands roam lower, gripping your hips and holding you in place as you rock against him.

“Hyunjin,” you breathe, your voice breaking on his name. You try to remind yourself that every kiss is just pretend. You are only recreating a scene.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression raw and vulnerable. “Say my name like you mean it, love. You know you want to,” he says, his thumb brushing your lips.

Your lips part, and you lean forward, kissing him again. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, tugging it upward until he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. You pause at the sight of him—his skin smooth and warm, taut over lean muscle, the sunlight spilling through the curtains painting him in golden hues.

You reach for him, your fingers brushing the curve of his jaw and the dip of his collarbone; he shivers at your touch. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“Am I?” His brows lift, the corners of his lips tilting into a mischievous grin. “If I remember correctly, you once called me a frog.”

You laugh as Hyunjin’s hands trace the curve of your waist. His lips meet yours, tongue sliding against yours, deepening the kiss as he explores you slowly, savoring every moment. 

His fingers curl under the hem of your shirt, and he says against your lips, “Is this okay?” His voice is thick and unsteady for just a moment, making your heart coil inside you.

“Yes,” you whisper, trembling with anticipation. “Please.”

He bites his lips, eyes darkening; and then he’s pulling your shirt up, over your head, revealing your bare skin to the soft glow of the sunlight.

Hyunjin freezes for a moment, his gaze roaming over you like you’re... something precious. You need to remind yourself that it’s not real, that both of you are just pretending—for the sake of the book.

Hyunjin’s plump lips capture yours messily. "I dreamed about this," he says between kisses.

He leans down, his lips brushing the curve of your collarbone, then lower, to the swell of your breast. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

You arch into his touch, your body instinctively seeking more, and he takes the hint, his mouth closing over your nipple. He sucks softly, the sensation sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as he switches to the other, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak before nipping it lightly with his teeth.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, your hips bucking against him.

He groans, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he moves, pinning you against the couch. His hips grind against yours, the hard press of him sparking a heat that blooms low in your belly.

He grips your waist before sliding your pants down, taking your underwear with them, leaving you bare beneath him.

You feel exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looks at you—his gaze consumed by desire, his lips parted—erases any hesitation. 

He kisses his way down your body, his hands following the path of his mouth, brushing over your hips, your thighs, until he’s settled between your legs.  

His lips trail over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his breath warm against you as he moves closer, his hands gently spreading you. “You want me, hm?” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Tell me, love, what exactly do you need?”  

You moan, almost begging. “Stop messing with me.”  

He chuckles and finally leans in. Hyunjin’s tongue traces a path along your slick folds. Your body jolts at the sensation, back arching as a strangled moan escapes your lips.  

His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue circles, flicks, and plays with your clit. You can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, your hands holding his curls tight. 

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, voice high and breathless.  

He looks up at you, lips glistening, gaze burning with desire, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “If you keep doing that, love, I might not be able to stop.”  

Your hips buck against him, body chasing the building pleasure as he slips a finger inside, then another, curling them in a way that makes you see stars. He pumps them slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue, then faster as your breaths come in short, sharp gasps.  

“Hyunjin, I’m—”  

You shatter, body tightening around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cry out, holding him against you as he guides you through your climax, his movements slowing but never stopping.

When you finally calm, your chest rising and falling with each breath, he traces his kisses back up your body, his lips lingering on your skin as though he can’t get enough of you. The firm length of his cock presses against your thigh, sending another rush of arousal through you.

His eyes search for yours, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to,” he says, his voice soft, careful.  

“I do,” you say, reaching for him, your hands finding the waistband of his pants. “I want this,” you add, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.  

Hyunjin’s breath catches as he helps you push his pants and boxers down. You swallowed, taking him in—hard, heavy, and glistening with arousal. “I’ve never been more sure.”  

For a moment, he freezes, his eyes locked on yours, and you realize what you’ve just said. You silently hope he thinks it’s the character speaking and not the hypothesis that you might be way more into him than you thought.

His forehead drops to yours as he pushes into you, slow and steady, filling you inch by inch until you feel impossibly full. Your body stretches around him, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.  

“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice a broken plea, “my goddess.”  

You can’t speak, can only nod as he begins to move, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm. His thrusts grow deeper as he leans down to capture your lips again. The kiss is fierce, almost desperate, his tongue sliding against yours before his lips suck, lick, and bite yours repeatedly.  

Your legs wrap around his waist; the friction between you sparking waves of pleasure. He moans into your mouth, his hands sliding under you to tilt your hips, fucking you harder.  

“Hyunjin,” you whimper. 

Your hands roam over his back, nails scraping lightly against his skin, and you feel him shudder above you. You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, each movement sending shockwaves through you. The pressure coils low in your belly as your body tightens around him. “Just like that,” you said.

Hyunjin’s hand slips between you, his thumb finding your sensitive clit. He circles it with just the right amount of pressure, matching the rhythm of his hips. Your vision blurs as you tumble over the edge.  

“I can feel you,” he moans, his voice nearly a whimper. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”  

Your only response is a gasp, your head tilting back as you surrender to the pleasure. His lips trail down your throat, sucking and biting gently, leaving marks you know will linger.  

He moans, his rhythm faltering as your release triggers his own. His body tenses, a shudder running through him as he buries himself deep, his cum spilling into you. Hyunjin’s face nestled in your neck as he says your name and comes apart in your arms.

Both of you lay tangled together, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. Hyunjin lifted his head slowly, brushing damp strands of hair from your face as he looked down at you. His thumb traced the curve of your lips, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.  

“You’re incredible,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.  

“So are you,” you whispered, your hands sliding up to cup his face. You kissed him softly, languidly, savoring the moment.  

When he finally pulled away, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours as your breaths evened out. “I think I’ll have no trouble writing now,” he said, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips.  

You laughed, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. “I’d say we got into character pretty well.”  

Hyunjin chuckled softly, his fingers brushing over your skin as he lay next to you. “You know, I think I have a few other scenes I could work on…” His words trailed off as you suddenly pushed him off the couch.  

“And be late for Chan's party? Never.” You teased, raising an eyebrow.  

“What a witch,” he laughed, his eyes warm with affection as he got up and went to the bathroom.  

You watched him walk away, trying to ignore how your heart raced. For now, you pretended it was just a fleeting feeling, hoping—really hoping—that there would be more scenes to recreate.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 💕

Copyright © 2025 by Writerastray.

[gilverrwrites]

Some of many (entirely self indulgent) fluffy/domestic Dick Grayson headcanons just because I love him.

He ADORES having a passenger prince/ss, someone to chat to, to point out cute dogs, and to sing along to Spotify with.

However, of the entire family, he is the worst driver.

Damian doesn’t even know how to drive yet, and somehow Dick is still worse.

It's not so bad in the car. He's known to ‘accidentally’ drive above the speed limit, take a few risky sharp turns and whatnot, but that’s about it.

But if you’re ever on the back of a batcycle, hold on for dear life.

He really doesn’t get enough credit for being the family's resident daredevil type.

He’s drifting, doing wheelies WITH NO HANDS.

Of course, he wouldn’t do it if he wasn’t 110% certain of your safety, but if you get scared he will tease.

You’ve gotta be able to stand a certain degree of teasing with Dick.

More often than not he outright does not respond to being called Dick by you. Cute pet names only, please. Dickie at a minimum. “Dick? Whose Dick? I only know Bubba.”

And vice versa, say goodbye to your actual name unless he’s mad at you.

His wardrobe is yours (within reason obviously, can’t have you parading around in his Nightwing suit).

He especially likes seeing you in his boxers and t-shirts, or especially his dress shirts the morning after a fancy event.

But he also raids your wardrobe, does not matter if you’re considerably smaller than him. He’ll wear your tees like crop tops in the summer, and won’t hesitate to squeeze your socks over his feet if he doesn’t have any clean ones.

And unless you do his laundry, or he’s been back to the manor recently, he rarely has clean socks.

Leaves you his cologne bottle if he’s ever has to go away for more than a few nights so you can spray whatever you like to be reminded of him.

Big on PDA, always draping himself on you when you’re out places. Arms around your shoulders on walks, plays footsie with you under tables. Will dance with you in the streets when you’re walking home drunk or kiss you in the rain.

Unless he’s around family, in which case it’s like a switch. Their teasing is relentless, and he doesn’t mind too much when it’s just him, but it really gets under his skin when they make jokes at your expense, even if they don’t mean anything by it.

Not to mention he’s leading by example, he doesn’t wanna see his younger siblings sucking face with anyone up close, so he’s not gonna subject them to watch him do it.

Always says he wants more chill dates where the two of you just relax at home and watch a film or something but that never happens. In the event that he isn’t needed elsewhere he either

Gets touchy 5 minutes in and you spend the night doing it instead.

Complains that you need a very specific type of snack or something, and takes you shopping at the only supermarket at does it, then there’s a great fast food joint you’ve gotta try, oh and he knows a rooftop nearby that has a great view you have to let him show you, come on.

He’s restless!

The only times your stay-at-home and chill dates succeed are when gaming is involved. Keep his hands and brain occupied.

Does not enjoy cleaning or cooking, but he’s not completely incapable. He often plays up his ‘inability to cook’ at home cause he knows the responsibility of cooking for everyone will fall on him should Alfred be unable/away, and god knows he’s a people pleaser. He won’t say no, so prevent them from asking.

He’ll cook for you though, it’s nothing special but he’ll do it.

Chores often take twice as long with him around because he’s always getting distracted dancing to the radio with you, or just touching you, he can't help it, you’re just so great, you’re a perfect little domestic team together.

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl)

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Teen (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 2,185

Chapter 2

AO3 Link

The chill fights to work its way through me as I dress quickly. Mint blouse, forest green skirt, and olive apron are donned and tightened before the chill can catch me. I curse Esmet, the head butler for not having gotten the heating fixed by now, the cold of the winter month creeping in and savaging the servants' quarters of the Royal Palace like a fatal disease. I'd be happy as soon as I got into the Wizard's quarters, busying about with the other green bees in keeping the apartments in tip shape. There were several old hearths that had remained there through renovations that could have roaring and crackling fires set to them if needed. Until recently, they had been used solely for decorations.

I strip off the socks that I wore to bed and replace them with a new clean pair that was thick and wooly, and of course dyed green. Emily is still sleeping under the thick duvet when I shake her awake.

"Up, up, sleepy head," I say.

Emily grumbles and pulls the duvet around her tighter now that I'm not under it. She had her own bed, but the staff had taken to sharing beds to provide enough comfort to fall asleep as the sun sank the temperature in the palace with it. I can't blame her for wanting to keep warm, but it was better to rip the bandage off and go start the fire than to wallow in the misery. I cross the shared bedroom to her small little cube of a nightstand and pull her uniform out, throwing it on her sleep-wrinkled face. She flinches, but I'm already lacing up my boots.

"You're going to miss breakfast like yesterday if you don't get up and do your chores," I say. That causes her to wake up. All staff were required to complete their basic morning chores if they wanted to be fed. Emily had overslept yesterday and hadn't seen food until lunch.

I leave Emily to it, not wanting to miss out on my own breakfast. Quickly, I take the old wooden stairs up the servants' way to the Wizard's apartments. They hadn't seen fit to replace those with green marble yet, so they remained creaking from their decades of use. Esmet had already set the first fire in the hearth nearby the door, and for that I hate him a little less. I grab mint sheets from a linen closet and head to the main bedroom.

The Wizard had already risen. This was a little-known fact, one that we in his service had been sworn to secrecy. Nobody was supposed to know that the Great Oracle has needs like any other ordinary man, but looking past the need for sheets and warm baths drawn, he is still as wonderful as the day he came to Oz. Esmet had explained it to me when I was finally trusted to be put into his personal service. It was a privilege to serve him in such close proximity, that those who were unworthy became sick from the good that seeped from him and infected everything that he touched. It was also for his protection that most did not know who he truly was.

I lower my eyes when I knock before entering his room. In the first few weeks in his service, I had been terrified that I would catch some hideous illness that would make me break out in a pox exposing my badness to the world, but it never came. Still, I did not chance it, trying to make sure that I never caught sight of him in case the effects took direct contact to show up.

His room smells sweet with incense and a hint of tobacco. I look up briefly before raising my eyes, making sure the coast is clear. Satisfied that he is not present, I set the clean sheets on the emerald velvet bench at the end of the bed and work at stripping yesterday's sheets off of it. They're much softer than ours, the cotton only the highest quality that can be imported from Munchkinland. I think about the rough sheets that I had left Emily sleeping in back in our cold room.

The door creaks open and I hear her voice. "I'm going downstairs for wood," she says. "We're all out up here. Esmet must have used it all."

I go back to stripping the pillowcases, throwing the old linens into a nearby hamper. At least she's up, I think. Once I have the entire bed bare, I turn back to grab the new sheets, only to be met with the sight of him.

Given my fear, I had never actually seen him in person, but I knew what he looked like. His portrait was hung up in various places around the apartment. One painting that I had quite fancied hung in the dining room. In it, he was sat rather crooked in a chair of gold with green upholstery, a man with gray hair coifed in sweeps and a mustache and goatee to match, his hand lazily resting on the head of a tiger that had been posed next to him. I had always admired his bravery, wondering if he was ever for a second scared when posing for the painting. Seeing him now, any bravery that I had immediately fled from me as I cast my eyes back to the floor, giving an apologetic curtsy.

"Your Wonderfulness," I say, moving off towards the laundry basket, out of his way.

"You haven't happened to see my cufflinks?" he asks. I watch as his green wingtips walk into the room right up to the nightstand next to me.

"No, Your Wonderfulness," I say, trying to still the frog that is hopping in my throat. Why is he talking to me!?

"Could you help me look then?" he says. "They're... well they're green with a little..." he searches for the word. "A little gold flower on them."

I immediately go to searching, looking on the dresser. If I were a pair of cufflinks, where would I be? There are so many fine things laid out on his dresser: a golden hairbrush and mirror set, a snuffbox decorated with emerald and gold beetles, a green satin ribbon. No cufflinks.

"I swear I had them this morning," he says. "Should've had him put them on... Any luck over there?"

I turn to face him, eyes still on the floor. "No, Your Wonderfulness," I say.

"Is there something wrong with my face?" he says. It felt like I had swallowed a peach pit of embarrassment, my cheeks pinkening even more than the cold had roughed them up. I can’t find the words to respond to him, biting my tongue in fear that it may also offend him

"Do me a favor and look me in the eye," he says. "It's weird talking to the top of someone's head, no matter how pretty her braids are."

The compliment makes me want to dive into the basket of dirty laundry, never to be seen again, but I raise my eyes to look at him. This is the first day I have ever spoken with him, and somehow in all of his wonderfulness, he finds it fitting to compliment me. He is just like his portraits, but maybe with a few extra wrinkles around the eyes, the pepper that had generously seasoned his hair reduced to a dash. It can't be helped as those paintings must have been several years old. He smiles and again I fight the urge to bury myself in the hamper.

"Such pretty eyes," he says, crossing the room towards me. My heart beats quickly against my breastbone. Somehow this feels wrong, like I'll get in trouble with Esmet if he walks into the room. I remember Emily, who had gone down to get firewood for the hearth in the bedroom and my lips quiver to form words.

"Do you think they might be in the dresser?" I ask. It's sinful, but I don't want her seeing me with the Wizard. She could be a cruel tease when she wanted to be. I had avoided it for the most part, but the poor Munchkin boy that she had bullied when we'd first come to the palace eventually had to be relocated to the kitchen staff with the way he wept at night in the shared bedroom. Who knows what kind of rumors she might spread if she thought I had looked too swooned by him.

"I suppose," he drawls, making a survey of the top of his gilded dresser, humming in thought. His fingers snatch the ribbon between the middle and index and snap it sharply before holding it up to the sunlight. Satisfied with the assessment, he takes it and wraps it around and ties it into a bow amongst the two braids that wrap the crown of my head. "It looks better on you. Got it as a gift from an ambassador and I hadn't a clue what to do with it."

I go to thank him, but he holds a finger up in the air as if remembering something. Pushing his hand into his pocket, he produces two cufflinks: green, just like he said, with little golden flowers on them.

"Would you mind helping me with them?" he asks. I hadn't put on someone's cufflinks since I was 10 – my father's before he had passed away – but I figure that it can't be much different. I remember Emily once more and quickly guide the metal through the starched cotton, trying not to think too much about how I had gone from never seeing the most powerful man in Oz to dressing him in a matter of minutes.

He gives the sleeves a shake, and satisfied with their solidity, squeezes my cheeks with a tsk of the tongue. "There's a good girl," he says.

As quick as he'd entered the room, he left, leaving me with more than a hundred butterflies in my stomach and sweating palms. I head back to the dirty laundry and wipe off my palms on the sheets. There is a rattling of wood on metal and I know that Emily is back with a bucket full of wood. I hurry to the sheets, realizing that they are still not on the bed, just as they had been when Emily had left.

She enters the room as I'm stretching the second corner of the fitted sheet."What a nightmare that was," she says. "Those idiots in receiving hadn't opened up the wood shipment from last night so I had to wait there for them to cut it open. Here's hoping I still get breakfast." She sets the pail down with a clank, quickly chucking rough-hewn blocks of wood and logs onto the metal grate. "What's taking you so long with that bed?"

I sweep over to the other side, my crinoline rustling under my skirt. "There was a hole in the sheet," I lie. She didn't need to know all about how the Wizard had asked me to help him look for his cufflinks and about me helping him to get dressed afterward. I close my eyes as I pull the last corner of the sheet over the mattress and I can still smell the warmth of his cologne from that moment. It reminds me of the rolls that we get for Lurlinemas, with their cloves poking out of the shiny egg-washed crusts.

"I didn't see you with that ribbon earlier this morning," Emily says, pulling a box of matches from the mantle. "It's pretty. Did you get it in town?"

My eyes go wide as I realize that I still have the ribbon fastened around my head. "Oh," I stutter. I wasn't used to making up so many lies this early in the morning. "It's just some old thing I picked up this summer at the markets."

Emily gets a good strike and soon the fire is crackling quickly into a roar. "Well it looks good," she says. "Maybe we could go into town later this week. I need to get some gifts for Lurlinemas."

I was a little surprised that she was considering gifts, considering the price of everything had been crazy lately. Our meals and housing were complimentary with working in the palace, but any kind of extra clothing or goods besides the uniform that was provided at the start of each year was strictly up to each servant. The last time I had been in the markets I'd gawked at the price of 79 pennies for new laces for my boots. I consider objecting to the potential spending spree but hold my tongue. She's been asking too many questions. "Maybe we could go on Saturday?" I say.

Emily agrees to that, and we pass the rest of our day finishing our chores at a leisurely pace to soak up as much warmth as possible, talking of things we want to go do and see in the markets, away from the cold of the palace.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Take Me Away [1]

Pairing: private investigator!Wooyoung x courtesan!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5k

Trigger Warnings: forced prostitution

Summary: While working on a new case in town, Wooyoung was captivated when he stumbled upon a beauty unlike any other. Just as he began to believe that he might have found a Lady Park of his own, word got out that she was merely the newest courtesan at the town's brothel. Disheartened by this revelation, he nearly abandons his pursuit of her until he hears whispers suggesting that she may not have been there of her own will.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"If you're just going to hide in the corner and not even attempt to attract potential clients, then make yourself useful and collect my new hair accessories from this shop," commanded Iseul, one of the more senior courtesans, as she handed you an invoice listing her orders for specific designs.

Rather than protesting or attempting to evade the task as she had anticipated, you enthusiastically agreed, "Of course, unnie!" before taking the document from her and dashing out of the brothel.

"Thank heavens. Anything to escape that dreadful place," you whispered to yourself, clutching the parchment close to your chest. You were relieved to be away from the hellhole that was supposed to be your new home, even if only for a bit.

Instead of keeping an eye out for the shop whose name and address were stated on the invoice, all you could concentrate on was the sight of ordinary people living their lives freely. You remembered once dreading the idea of having to marry out of obligation once you reached a certain age, but now you would gladly choose that life over this one. At least then, you would only belong to one man instead of any man willing to pay for your company or... services now.

Had you known a week ago how drastically your life would change, you would have run away from home much sooner. You should have done it earlier, if only it weren't for your tender, foolish heart that still felt sorry for your deadbeat father. He had done nothing but drink and gamble away all the money you earned from washing dishes at a nearby food stall. And all of that just for him to sell you off to a brothel when he realised he had no money left to pay off his debts.

A week before today, he stumbled home reeking of alcohol and vomit after being gone all night. He moved to drag you to your feet while you were tidying up the shabby little home you had grown up in, his tight grasp tearing a hole in the thin, worn hanbok clinging to your frail frame. You struggled against his hold, crying out, "What in god's name are you doing, father?! Let me go!"

Confused about his intentions, as he typically treated you as if you were invisible and only approached you when he needed money, you received no response. He dragged you toward the entrance and threw you out, causing you to land roughly on the ground.

As you gazed at the expensive fabric before you, you looked up to see a well-dressed woman with heavy makeup smirking down at you, "You'll do just fine. Thank you, Mr. Han. We accept your payment. I hope you're comfortable with never seeing her again, unless you decide to pay the Mansion of Midnight a visit, of course."

Your heart stopped in recognition of the name. The Mansion of Midnight—the notorious brothel that had haunted your nightmares since you were old enough to understand its existence.

You couldn't believe it.

Refused to believe it.

How could your father do this to you? How could he sell his own daughter to such a place just to pay off his debts?

Anger and disbelief surged within you as you struggled to process the enormity of his betrayal. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fought against the overwhelming sense abandonment. Clutching the torn fabric of your hanbok, you felt a profound sense of loss and despair. This wasn't the life you had imagined for yourself, and yet here you were, thrust into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.

Turning to look at him, you knew all hope was gone when you found him waving his hand dismissively in response to the woman you now recognised as the brothel madam, "Whatever, so long as this means my debts are cleared. Just take her and go."

His callous words pierced through you like a knife, confirming what you had feared deep down. There would be no rescue, no redemption in his eyes. He was willing to sacrifice you without a second thought, all for the sake of his own selfish reasons.

Disgust and rage bubbled up inside you as you stared at him, unable to comprehend how a father could abandon his own flesh and blood in such a manner. The man you once hoped would someday change for the better was now nothing more than a heartless stranger.

I guess I'm the fool for staying.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from him, silently vowing to never forgive him for his betrayal. In that moment, you knew you were alone in this world, left to fend for yourself in a cruel and unforgiving reality. But despite the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume you, you refused to give up hope. You would find a way to survive, to reclaim your dignity and freedom.

Now, trapped in this place, you cursed yourself for even pitying him when you should have abandoned him, just like your mother did when you were merely a child. She left him for someone who could offer her a better life, one with no room for you. She left you with this sorry excuse of a man. Sometimes, you wonder why they bothered bringing you into this world in the first place, just for you to endure a life filled with so much unhappiness.

Lost in thought and unaware of your surroundings, a startled gasp escaped your lips as your shoulder bumped into another man's, causing the parchment in your hand to slip to the ground along with a few items belonging to him, "Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry! I should have been more attentive. Here, let me help you gather your belongings," you apologised hastily, scrambling to collect his things while he did the same. Your movements paused when he accidentally grabbed your hand as you both reached for the same item.

"It's fine, my lady. Let me take care of it—"

As you lifted your heads to meet each other's gaze, your breath caught in your throat upon making eye contact. While you internally chuckled with a mixture of disbelief and sadness, realising how romantic this first encounter with this good-looking stranger could have potentially been if only you were an ordinary girl, he was too captivated by your beauty to utter a word.

So beautiful.

As Wooyoung took in the stunning lady before him, his heart skipped a beat. After encountering a woman as beautiful as Lady Park, he had almost resigned himself to the idea that he wouldn't find anyone more gorgeous. Yet, today, he found hope as he marvelled at you.

Judging from your initial reaction upon bumping into him, you were clearly not some rich little spoiled brat. There was a genuineness about you, a humility that spoke volumes to him.

Now, he just had to put his investigator skills to good use; find out who you were, which house you hailed from, and whether you were betrothed to another. If all went according to plan, he envisioned courting you, and perhaps, finally experiencing what it was like to have the kind of connection General Park and his wife shared—a love that transcended time and circumstance.

With determination in his heart, Wooyoung made a mental note to uncover the identity of this intriguing woman. You were a rare gem amidst the chaos of this world, and he was determined to unravel the mystery surrounding you.

As his gaze lingered on you, self-consciousness crept in. What if he was seeing through your identity? What if he knew the kind of job you were meant to be doing? The thought made you uneasy. Was that why he couldn't take his eyes off you? Perhaps it was his first time seeing a courtesan up close?

He could be disgusted for all you knew.

Blinking rapidly, you pulled your hand away and hurriedly stood up. Without giving him another chance to speak, you bowed deeply and politely excused yourself. You could still feel his intense stare burning into your back as you ran off, eager to get away from him for fear of his potential reaction when he realised what you were.

Tears of frustration blurred your vision as you struggled to focus on finding the damn shop you were meant to visit. Your heart felt heavy with hopelessness, knowing that thanks to your father, your life would never be the same. It was ruined now, irreversibly altered by his selfish actions.

Even if you were to somehow make your escape from this nightmare, your reputation would forever be tainted by this part of your history. There was no way you'd be able to hide the truth from anyone—the truth that you were once a courtesan at the Mansion of Midnight. The thought filled you with despair. No one would ever be able to accept you, nobody decent ever would.

Each step felt like a burden as you trudged along the unfamiliar streets. The world seemed bleak and unforgiving, with no glimmer of hope on the horizon. You felt utterly alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to confide in.

Help. Somebody, please help me.

Watching the mysterious, beautiful stranger he had encountered run off in the opposite direction, the investigator felt his heart pound in his chest. He tried to commit the image of your angelic features to memory, already excited to learn more about you.

For once, after completing his last assignment at the general's estate, he felt a glimmer of hope. Seonghwa had dismissed not only him but also Yunho and Hongjoong as soon as his grand wedding ceremony in the palace ended, expressing his desire for some alone time with his beloved wife. It seemed like everyone was moving on with their lives; the last Wooyoung had heard, the physician had returned to his clinic, and the dressmaker had resumed operations at his shop, both happy to grant the couple their much-needed honeymoon.

Except for him.

He had missed the thrill of working for the great General Park. While he loved his job, no other cases could ever compare to the adrenaline rush of working for his role model. Besides, that wasn't the only perk; he also had the opportunity to see the beautiful Lady Park nearly every day. He had been feeling bored, merely going through the motions with his current case until now.

His passion for investigating was reignited.

Screw his current case; it wasn't that important anyway. He had been hired by some wealthy old noblewoman to investigate whether her husband was cheating on her. It was while he was tailing the sleazy old man that he found himself in this part of town. But it looked like his new employer's case would have to take a back seat for now. Perhaps he should thank the old couple; otherwise, he wouldn't have stumbled upon his new dream girl today.

Yes, his new dream girl, because until just moments ago, that position had been occupied by Seonghwa's wife. Luckily for him, the general never discovered his tiny crush on her; otherwise, leaving the estate unscathed might have proven difficult. Jongho and Hongjoong had graciously kept his secret, for which he felt eternal gratitude. For his sake, he sincerely hoped the two would carry this secret to their graves. After all, he now has a new goddess to worship.

Without wasting a moment, Wooyoung immediately approached the people around him who had witnessed his accidental collision with you. Although most shook their heads, claiming they didn't recognise you, he tried not to be discouraged. With his skills, he knew he could gather all the information he needed in no time.

That night, he returned home and sketched the enchanting features he still vividly remembered before going to bed. His mind buzzed with the possibilities of who you could be. The following day, he planned to inquire again, armed with the drawing he had created. As the famous investigator Jung Wooyoung, he believed there was nothing he couldn't find if he set his mind to it. And now, he was investing even his heart into it.

The next morning, he rose extra early, having barely slept as endless thoughts of the mysterious beauty consumed his dreams throughout the night. He hastily devoured the breakfast prepared by his servants, bid his parents goodbye, and rushed out of his family estate toward that part of town once again. Eager to learn more about you immediately, he clutched the drawing tightly in his hand, feeling a glimmer of hope.

As he questioned people with the help of his sketch, some claimed to have seen you around but didn't know enough about you to provide further details. Nonetheless, it was a promising start. Surely, as he ventured closer to where you first emerged the day before, he would come across people who knew you.

True enough, it didn't take long for him to find someone who recognised the sweet face from his drawing. The middle-aged man smirked as he glanced at the parchment in Wooyoung's hands, "She's quite the beauty, isn't she? That, right there, is the newest recruit at the Mansion of Midnight."

"The Mansion of Midnight...?"

"Yes, it's the most well-known brothel in town, young man. Don't tell me you haven't heard of it? I suppose your young age explains it. Most of the patrons are older men, but I expected you would at least have heard of it. If you're looking for a future wife, she might not be the one for you. Beautiful as she is, she's merely a courtesan. Go find yourself a proper lady, son."

Disappointment crashed over him like a wave, his heart plummeting at the revelation. A courtesan...? All his idealistic fantasies of courting you shattered in an instant. He should have realised it was too good to be true. How could he have thought he found his own Lady Park so easily? With a heavy heart, he stuffed the piece of paper back into his pocket and trudged away, head bowed in shame. What would his parents or friends think if they knew he had been foolish enough to pursue a worker from a brothel?

Determined to rid his mind of thoughts of you, he committed himself to refocusing on his current case. In the following days, he threw himself into his work, seeking distraction like a heartbroken man. He constantly reminded himself that it was irrational to feel such strong emotions for someone he barely knew. Deep down, he knew that his infatuation was only with an idealised version of you, and not the actual you. Yet, despite this awareness, he still struggled to let go.

With a sigh, he scolded himself for letting thoughts of you distract him again while tailing his employer's husband. Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand—to observe the old man's interactions and track his movements. His heart sank as he realised the intimidating building his target eagerly approached. Numerous women, adorned in heavy makeup and revealing hanboks, lingered near the entrance, attempting to attract potential clients. The words 'Mansion of Midnight' adorned a large sign in the centre of the establishment, with red curtains billowing out from open windows of various rooms on the upper floors.

Of course, it had to be here.

Suddenly, a dreadful thought struck him.

He shuddered at the possibility of you being the company his target had been seeking all along. The mere idea felt repulsive—a vision of that old man with his hands all over your delicate form. He turned to leave, no longer willing to entertain such sickening scenarios involving you. At least the case was closed. He had obtained the answers his employer sought; her husband had been frequenting the brothel. Whether or not that constituted cheating would be for her to decide. He was finished and wanted to put as much distance between himself and this place as possible.

As he tried to leave the area, his steps faltered when he overheard a conversation between a stall owner and their customer, "Have you heard about the new courtesan at the Mansion of Midnight? I heard the poor thing is there against her will, that's why she always looks so sad. Apparently, her father sold her to settle his debts—"

That was all he needed to hear before a pang of regret pierced his heart. Why hadn't he investigated more thoroughly? Why had he given up on you so easily? If that were true, you must have been terrified. The idea of your own father doing this to you made his blood boil. Suddenly, he found himself understanding General Park's fury towards the former Minister Jang all too well.

Useless son of a—

A sudden wave of protectiveness engulfed him as he felt the urgent need to rescue you. Acting on impulse, he swiftly turned around and sprinted back toward the brothel. It wasn't until he reached the establishment again that he realised he lacked a plan. What was his next move after discovering your actual situation?

Think, Jung Wooyoung, think!

Before he could even formulate a plan, one of the courtesans approached him, her demeanour dripping with seduction. She pressed her chest against his side, trailing a seductive finger across his chest. Her mouth watered at the thought of entertaining such a young and dashing man after dealing with disgusting old men for so long, "Hello there, handsome. Would you like to spend a little time with us? Have some fun? Here at the Mansion of Midnight, we provide only the best services," she purred, winking at him. He struggled to push her off without appearing too rude, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with her touchiness.

"I-I... yes, I'd like to spend some time with the newest courtesan here, please," he stuttered, managing to free himself from her grasp.

With a scoff, she crossed her arms over her chest in disbelief, "You mean Miss Han? Why? Just because she's new? She's been here for a week and is still a virgin. I assure you, experienced courtesans like myself would know better how to satisfy you."

As she attempted to promote herself further, an older woman who appeared to be in charge intervened, glaring at her, "Enough, Iseul. What did I say about respecting our client's wishes? It's not you he wants. Accept it and move along," she reprimanded. Turning to Wooyoung, the brothel madam grinned, "So, you'd like to request Miss Han, hm? I understand. She's around your age and is still pure. If I were you, she might be the only one I'd want too. Tell me, how long would you like to spend with her? An hour or two?"

"I want her to myself for the rest of the day."

"Miss Han, you fortunate little thing! Congratulations on securing your very first client. This dashing young man seems utterly smitten by you, to have reserved your company for the entire evening."

You tightly clenched your trembling fists to your chest, suppressing a terrified whimper as you listened to the brothel madam's devious teasing. You had prayed fervently that nobody would request your services, doing everything you could to remain inconspicuous over the past week, hoping they might see you as more suitable for hard labour; you'd much rather be the lowest servant than do any of this.

Yet, here you were, already with your first client, and not just any client—this man had gone as far as to secure your companionship for the entire day. Such occurrences were rare, even for the most sought-after courtesans in this establishment. You couldn't fathom who this person might be, how he had learned of you, and why he'd spend so much to buy your time.

"Wh-who is it? This customer..."

"Wouldn't you like to know? It's none other than the famous private investigator Jung Wooyoung, known for his significant role in aiding General Park's capture of former Minister Jang. I suppose even men with a strong sense of justice are still susceptible to desire," The sly woman drawled, winking at you, "Don't disappoint us, girl. A client of his calibre could become a valuable long-term patron. Treat him well."

In anticipation of this highly significant new client, they went to great lengths to prepare you. After informing you of the news, the brothel madam called upon a team of staff to bathe you and dress you in a seemingly brand-new hanbok. It was almost as revealing as the ones worn daily by Iseul and the other popular courtesans. Usually, newer girls like yourself were given hand-me-down hanboks that were less appealing, given your status. However, this didn't alleviate the pressure you were feeling; if anything, it intensified, knowing how valuable this client must be.

God, why? Why me, of all people?

You should have known that all men were alike. No matter how noble or upright they might seem, they were ultimately driven by temptation. At the end of the day, they all desired the same thing. You could only hope that he would at least go easy on you. Your heart raced in your chest as you sat on the bed in the room assigned to you and him for the night, waiting for him.

To steady your trembling hands, you balled them into fists, feeling your nails dig into the skin of your palm with such force that you were certain they would break soon. Just as you were about to sink deeper into your endless pool of misery, you froze at the sound of footsteps approaching the room. Internally cursing your father once more, you braced yourself for what lay ahead.

"This way, Mr. Jung. She's ready for you."

Hearing those words turned your stomach. Yes, this was your current reality. You were nothing more than a commodity—a comfort woman for hire. An object for men to exploit when they sought release, to use as they pleased, as long as they could pay for it.

As you accepted your fate, you closed your eyes and bowed your head, the wooden door creaking open slowly. There was no escape from this—his reservation for the entire evening could only mean one thing. He hadn't bought your time just for conversation and a meal. No, he was here for the reason most men visited a brothel. This was it; this was how you'd lose your innocence.

"Miss Han...?" The man's uncertain voice echoed through the room.

Lifting your gaze to meet the individual who would be claiming your innocence tonight, your eyes widened in recognition as soon as you laid eyes on him. He was the handsome stranger you had collided with the other day. With a gasp, you uttered, "It's you..."

"So, y-you're the famous private investigator? Wh-what are you doing here?" You asked, then shook your head and cleared your throat, "Wait, I'm sorry. That was a foolish question; everyone knows why men come here." Inside, you couldn't deny the disappointment. His initial impression had been shattered now that you knew he was your first client. He didn't seem like the type to visit such places, but you supposed you couldn't judge a book by its cover.

His eyes widened at your implication, and he quickly shook his head, waving his hands to deny it as he stepped closer to you. Seeing you visibly shrink back, he made sure to keep a respectful distance, "No, you don't understand. I'm not here for that, Miss Han."

Lowering his voice, he took a seat in the nearest chair and continued, "I'm here to help you. My name is Wooyoung, as you already know, and I'm an investigator. I heard you're here against your will because of your father. Is that right?"

He fought to keep his composure, trying not to let his gaze linger too long on your features. He could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks as he struggled not to let his eyes wander further down to the sheer hanbok, which left your bare shoulders exposed thanks to its see-through material. Typically, such hanboks were reserved for married women about to spend the night with their husbands. The realisation that he was alone in a room with his dream girl dressed like that was enough to leave him flustered.

But he knew he needed to focus on the task at hand. Now was not the time to be feeling shy or distracted. He had a more important mission: to get you the hell out of here. So, he pushed aside his feelings and did his best to remain composed for your sake.

Nodding slowly, you furrowed your brows with scepticism, "Help me? Why? You don't even know me. What's in it for you? I have no money, and the only thing I can offer is..." Your voice trailed off as you glanced down at your body. Your distrust was palpable as you considered whether you could trust him. Just because he was the investigator who helped General Park capture the former Minister of Military Affairs didn't mean he had any obligation to you.

Understanding your hesitation, Wooyoung sighed deeply. He sympathised with your reluctance to trust a stranger, especially considering the betrayal you had experienced from someone you should have been able to rely on. He didn't blame you for questioning his motives; it was a reasonable response given the circumstances.

He looked into your eyes with a sincerity that struck you deeply, "Listen, not all men are like that," he said earnestly, "I know it may seem difficult for you to believe that someone would be willing to help you without expecting anything in return, but I'm here to prove to you that we exist. I'll admit your beauty captivated me initially, and I genuinely intended to court you. But after learning the truth about your situation, what kind of person would I be to not help? I won't rest until I get you out of here."

His words struck a chord within you, and there was a sincerity in his tone that you had rarely heard, not even from the people you called your parents. Despite your initial scepticism, you decided to believe him, if only for this moment. After all, if someone truly wanted to rescue you from this dreadful place, who were you to object?

You suppressed the shyness that arose upon his admission of his intentions to court you. Memories of your first encounter with him flooded back, making you ponder how different things might have been if you were an ordinary girl. Nevertheless, you were grateful he hadn't given up on you despite discovering your identity. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have a friend in him.

Moving to sit across from him at the dining table in the centre of the room, you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, "Alright, Mr. Jung. I'll choose to trust you. I appreciate your efforts to help me, but... how do you plan to do that? The Mansion of Midnight isn't a small establishment. They've been around for as long as I can remember, and none of the girls working here have been able to just walk out as they please. As far as I know, I'm part of their property now."

"Not if I can help it. The larger the establishment, the more skeletons they have in their closet. Especially in a place like a brothel, I doubt their operations are entirely above board," he explained, "I'll keep returning for the next week, and buy up all your time. That'll keep other patrons away. Meanwhile, I'll use that time to snoop around. Trust me, we're getting you out of here, no matter what." He reassured you with a warm smile gorgeous enough to melt your heart, but you didn't let it show.

I most certainly hope so, Mr. Jung.

You couldn't help but admire his unwavering determination, even though a part of you hesitated to allow yourself to feel hopeful. You dared not raise your hopes too high, afraid of the crushing disappointment that would follow if his plan were to fail. Yet, at this moment, you were grateful to have crossed paths with him, whether or not he'd be able to get you out of here.

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Sir, Investigator Jung is here to see you," Jongho announced at the entrance of his master's study, an anxious Wooyoung standing beside him. The general raised his brows in surprise, "At this hour? Let him in."

Without hesitation, the investigator rushed into the room, "My lord, I apologise for showing up unannounced so late at night! I know you said not to bother you and Lady Park for the time being, but there's something urgent that I need help with—"

"Woah, breathe, Wooyoung. Calm down and take a seat. Jongho, please bring us some tea," With a bow, the assistant moved to leave before halting when Seonghwa called out to him again, "Wait! On your way back, let the mistress know not to wait up for me. I have a feeling this won't be a short meeting."

"Of course, sir," the assistant replied.

Feeling guilty for getting in the way of what should have been the couple's honeymoon time, the younger man sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "Gosh, I really am sorry to intrude on your alone time with your wife."

The general smiled reassuringly, shaking his head, "Please don't worry about it. It must be important for you to rush here so late. Besides, you've helped me plenty before. It's only right for me to return the favour now. Tell me, what do you need help with?"

"I know I previously declined the bonus incentives you offered, but... would it be alright for me to accept them now?"

Wooyoung hadn't fully considered the financial implications when he confidently promised to return to the Mansion of Midnight every day for the next week. It dawned on him how costly even one night there had been. He couldn't possibly ask his parents for money to be spent on a brothel. Despite it being for a noble cause, they'd have a heart attack. So, he had no choice but to seek financial assistance from Seonghwa.

I was initially going to make this into a oneshot, but that would take me too long to post and I didn't want to make y'all wait any longer than you already have! So, voila! I'm breaking this into 2 parts. The next part will be the second and final part of this spinoff.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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