#my brain was like ''well if i put it on the edge of the sleeve of my jacket it would be easy to cut myself out if i were to get my hands

[loveliluc]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ not so gentle gentlemen ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. ayato, diluc, neuvillette, zhongli

synopsis — they’re respectful, eloquent, and dignified. they are gentlemen in every sense. but when it comes to how they have you? well, let’s just say there’s nothing gentle about it; 2.2k words.

— minors do not interact! unprotected sex. rough sex. orgasm denial. hair pulling. dacryphilia. choking. breeding. size kink. neuvi has two cocks cuz ya know, dragon. cockwarming. double penetration. public sex. fem!reader. sub!reader.

— ayato 𝜗𝜚

there’s a firm hand in your hair and then an ever firmer tug. it’s accompanied by a sharp, deep thrust and all you can do is wail into the sheets. a toned body hovers above your back. you feel the textures of his attire and all its embellishments; it’s rough against your skin. “oh? are you crying, my darling?” ayato’s voice is silky soft on your ears, but there’s a sharp edge that makes you writhe underneath him. the little crystalline beads pour from your eyes in a flood, soaking the sheets. you hear him chuckle coolly. “my, after all of your confidence from earlier, here you are shedding tears. can’t you handle it? is this not the outcome you were so diligently seeking?”

you release a shaky breath. “ayato,” you plead with him, but you know it’s pointless. there’s no use in attempting to change the yashiro commissioner’s mind once he’s set on something, and right now he is set on making a mess of you. “i’m —” a hiccup, “— sorry!”

“sorry?” another ruthless plunge of his cock. your ass feels raw from all the slaps of his pelvis against you. you can’t see him, but you know there’s a goading smirk on his face. “this is quite rich coming from you, my darling. you were creating such a scene, and in public of all places. did you forget we have a reputation to uphold?”

you pout and from the way your face is turned, ayato can see clearly how your bottom lip juts out. your ayato, your kind, patient, loving ayato has transformed into the menace behind you. how he is now and how he is to the public is a night and day difference; you feel simultaneously blessed to witness this exclusive side of him and exasperated. he’s robbed you of countless orgasms at this point — to teach you a lesson, he said — and your body aches. he tugs at your hair again.

“now you’re so quiet. oh goodness, that won’t do.” ayato sets a brutal pace and all you can do is clamber at the sheets and take it. his mushroom tip kisses your cervix and it’s a pleasurable pain. the coil in your tummy is building momentum again and you hope it won’t be torn away from you again.

“ah! ayato!” you sob and it’s shrilled and raspy. one of your hands reaches behind you and clasps at his long sleeve; you’re fully ridden of clothing while he still wears his. it’s a little humiliating, and it’s a sign of his power over you, but you can’t deny the way it makes you leak all over his length. “p-please!”

ayato chuckles, knowing what you’re after but determined to deprive you until you can communicate your need. “please what, darling? i cannot supply your need if you do not tell me what it is.” his cock throbs at the pitiful cry of his name and the squeeze of your walls around him. you’re close, very close.

he’s playing dumb, you know he is. you know what he’s after but what you don’t know is whether or not your poor, muddled brain can put the words together. “ayato, please! let me cum! i need it so bad!”

“is that it?” ayato drags his lips against your ear, pace still ruthless. you’re about to fall apart. “hmm, i suppose you are deserving of it. have you learned your lesson?”

“yes!”

his hand reaches south to pinch at your clit. “very good. you’ll do well to remember what you’ve learned, my darling.”

— diluc 𝜗𝜚

“d-diluc…mmh!” your body is folded in half when your legs are thrown over his shoulder. the weight of his body is heavy and it traps you against the mattress; you’re helpless to the ruthless pace of his hips. he’s able to reach so much deeper like this, and it’s maddening and overwhelming to the point you feel like you can’t catch a breath. your knees being pushed into your chest certainly isn’t helping either, though.

your plea falls on deaf ears as diluc continues to batter your insides, resilient in his efforts to mold you to the shape of his cock. you’re clawing at his biceps and he grunts at the sting, but your efforts do nothing to deter him. his vermilion eyes take in the sight of you scrunched and crowded underneath him, eyes glassy and brow dewy with sweat. your hair splays out over the pillow in a wild mess, and drool is at the corner of your lips. “look at you,” he pants. “such a mess. you look so dirty, my love. already so fucked out for me.”

your lover is a sight to behold above you — red mane falling down his shoulders, eyes alight with a burning passion, and his mouth hung open as continuous grunts spill out. he’s like a wildfire in this moment, so opposite to the cool, stoic persona that he displays to the rest of the world. and he respects you always, but right now he’s fucking you so insanely disrespectfully it makes your head spin. there’s nothing elegant in the way he’s taking you. “deep! you’re so, so deep!”

one of diluc’s large, calloused hands wraps around your neck. he chuckles lowly when your tiny hands wrap around his wrist, your pretty eyes blinking away tears as you gaze up at him. “you feel me deep inside, hm? ah, you’re taking me so well. you were fucking made to take my cock like this, my love.”

you feel him knocking against your womb. he’s so big it’s hard to handle him, your gummy walls struggling to expand enough for him. and when he fucks you like this, so hard and fast, you feel as if you might break like porcelain against the hard floor. “s’too much!”

diluc shushes you with a sloppy kiss. “no, no. you can take it. i’ll make you feel so good. i promise. just keep taking me like a good girl, okay?” you’re close and he can feel it from the vice like grip around his shaft. he knows you’re only a few strokes away from falling apart, and he groans because so is he. “and you’ll take all my cum, right? let me breed this pretty pussy. breed it so well, my love. i’ll fill you up so full.”

his voice is low and gravelly and rough against your ears. you whimper as he continues his brutal pace; you’re on the verge of breaking, and just like always, you’ll shatter into a million pieces so beautifully for him. and he’ll be there to pick up every piece of you to put you back together, just to make you fall apart all over again.

— neuvillette 𝜗𝜚

“oh, neuvillette,” you breath, or rather, you try to. your basic functioning seems almost impossible right now when you’re being stuffed so incredibly full. it’s borderline too much, and normally you could appeal to your lover’s tender heart for some reprieve, but not tonight.

neuvillette’s palm that rests against your tummy tightens, pushing against you and forcing you to be even more aware of how far he’s nestled into the depths of you. he’s two cocks deep, stretching both of your holes tautly. you hear his grunt from behind you and feel it on the back of your neck. “hush now,” he commands softly but firmly. “sit still and take it. i wish to continue my work in peace without anymore of your distractions.”

you want to slump forward against his desk, but his grip keeps you from doing so. and you try, really you do! you try to be still, to be good, to be content with the stillness of his hips and the way his cocks remain idle inside of you. they make you ache, just sitting on them is insufferable. you need him to move, to bend you over this large desk and fuck you into it. this is the whole reason you decided to visit him at the palais mermonia this late, after all. a longing for him so great you had to come to him directly, only for him to sit you on his cocks and do nothing more. you grind your hips and try as you might, there is no stopping the moan that slips out of you. the iudex under you tenses.

“did i not make myself clear, my love?” neuvillette has now left the task at hand in favor of holding you with both hands. he exhales heavily at the grip of you around him; you’re maddening and prancing on his very last shred of composure. he likes to pride himself on his self control, especially when at work, but you make him feel insane, like he’s capable of nothing more than his most basic and carnal instincts. “i told you to be still, to not be a distraction, yet you’re so intent on misbehaving.”

you shriek when you’re sent flying forward into the wood desk, your lover now standing behind you, cocks still lodged within. you open your mouth to speak his name but only a choked moan can be heard when he suddenly snaps his hips into your rear. your body is jolted and the documents underneath you are crumbled, though neuvillette doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. “f-fuck!”

neuvillette sets a brutal pace, but not before pulling at your shoulder to bring your back flush against his front. your spine arches when his cocks hit those perfect spots deep inside. long gone is the calm chief justice, replaced by the old dragon that you’ve so successfully provoked. “you will take everything i have to give, and you will be content. then you will let me finish my work. do you understand?”

you try to respond, but your ability to speak is lost as you succumb to his bruising pace. there’s a firm squeeze on your shoulder.

“my love, answer me.”

you croak. “i understand, n-neuvillette.”

a kiss to your temple, another bruising thrust. “good girl.”

— zhongli 𝜗𝜚

you probably should think twice before making fun of your lover; as patient as he is, even he has his own limits. you never really see his calm demeanor break, if ever, but after being with him for some time, you know certain ways to get under his gold laced skin. he can only take your teasing for so long before you’re quickly being reminded of the god of old that lies within him. and one of his most favorite ways to corral you back into your place is by reinforcing the sheer difference in size between you both.

“zhongli, hah!” you shriek when he brings your hips back down, his thick girth forcing itself back into your tight hole. archons, you feel so overloaded, so full you feel you might burst at the seams. but there’s nothing you can do about it now, not when he’s holding you in his arms, your body suspended in the air with his arms hooked under your knees. you’re completely at your lover’s mercy. “s’big! it’s too much!”

and he’s resembling more of his divine form than the human like form you’re familiar with, and you swear he feels even thicker inside you this way. zhongli grunts when he slams you down onto him again, using gravity to his advantage as well as his otherworldly strength. you release a broken sob but you get no sympathy. “breaking so soon, dearest?”

your arms are tight around his neck. with each powerful thrust you feel as if you might be sent flying; but zhongli has you locked in his secure hold. he won’t let you fall, ever. you want to reply with something, to prove yourself, but how can you when his cock hits your womb in such a way that turns you brainless? a mess of syllables that slightly resemble “please” and “zhongli” tumble out of your mouth and into his neck as you bury your face.

zhongli chuckles into your ear and the sound of it only emphasizes the pleasure he’s obviously taking from the state of you. you’re so small in his hold, so easily malleable and pliable to his will, and he so eagerly takes advantage of it. “you will take it, all of it. everything i give you. it’s only fair, yes?” he lifts you until just his swollen tip remains within before thrusting upwards hard, filling you abruptly with his entirety. your whole body shakes. “your actions have consequences. you couldn’t possibly think you’d get off so easily.”

you’re a weeping mess at this point, and your pussy is no different. your battered cunt leaks all over his cock, on his thighs, and even onto the floor below. you can’t deny the effect he has on you when he takes you this way. he’s unyielding and formidable as stone. no one but you could ever know about this side of the illustrious mr. zhongli. you gasp when your back meets the wall. you look up at your lover through glassy, tear rimmed eyes.

zhongli is impossibly close, golden eyes piercing through you. he grinds his hips to make you feel every last incredible inch of him. “but i suppose this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

nat’s notes — just wanna take this time and say thank you so much for all the love on my last post! i’m pleasantly surprised how well my first fic did :’)) i hope everyone can enjoy this one, too!

[luveline]

You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.

-🌕

I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!

thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader

cw past drug abuse

“Hi, Spencer Reid.” 

You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could. 

“You’re not saying hi anymore?” 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before you took it at the hospital, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.” 

He looks up tentatively. “You have?” 

“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.” 

“Why?” Spencer asks. 

You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.” 

“Okay.” 

You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.” 

He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.” 

“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.” 

“And stuff.” 

“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.” 

You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone. 

“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks. 

“What are you enjoying lately?” 

“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”

“Cereal?” 

“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.” 

You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse. 

You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail. 

“Hug?” you ask hopefully. 

He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear. 

“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly. 

“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second. 

“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?” 

He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.” 

“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?” 

He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him. 

“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger. 

“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.” 

“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.” 

He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.

“What are you two whispering about?”

You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face. 

“Nothing,” Spencer says. 

You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.” 

“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases. 

You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart. 

[etherealyoungk]

ramen & fate | boo seungkwan

SUMMARY: in which you meet a rich guy at the convenience store during a late night ramen run.

PAIRING: chaebol!seungkwan x reader

THEMES: strangers to lovers, meet cute kinda

WARNINGS: fluff, use of curse words

WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

A/N: @wheeboo happy birthday my love! this is a little gift from me to you! this is such a silly idea but i thought i'd write it out for you and i hope you like it <3

you walk into the convenience store and walk inside and the faint sound of pop music hums from the speakers overhead, blending with the quiet hum of the refrigerators in the back. you barely notice any of it though because your mission is clear - ramen. you really needed a ramen fix right now.

you make a beeline for the ramen aisle, the craving gnawing at you and nothing else would do now, not after the day you've had. there's a strange comfort in that little cup of noodles, in its simplicity, in the way it tastes exactly how you expected it to. your eyes scan the shelves and you spot your favourite ramen, only to find one left on the shelf. you immediately reach for it without a second thought, but so does someone else.

your fingers brush against another hand, and you pause, startled. your eyes follow the hand, trailing up a crisp white sleeve, past a perfectly tailored suit jacket, until they land on the face of the man reaching for the same cup of ramen. he’s tall so you have to tilt your head slightly to meet his gaze. his expression is cool, almost unreadable, his jawline sharp and sleek, his styled hair making him look like he just walked off the set of some corporate drama.

"oh," you say, blinking as your hand hovers over the cup.

he looks down at you, his brows lifting slightly as if in mild surprise, but he doesn’t immediately pull his hand back. "looks like we’ve got the same taste," he says, his voice smooth.

you blink at him and wrack your brain for a response before you let out a nervous laugh. "well, it is the best one", you reply as you look at him.

he smirks faintly, tilting his head. "i agree, but there’s only one left."

there’s a pause, the moment stretching out as both of you keep your hands over the cup of ramen and suddenly this feels like some sort of high-stakes negotiation situation.

"i—uh—had a long day," you say, trying to justify your claim, though you immediately feel silly for doing so. "i really need this ramen".

his smirk softens into something resembling amusement. "and you think i don’t?", he counters, raising a brow at you. "i’ve had back-to-back meetings since seven this morning", he says.

"well, i’ve been running around non-stop too", you protest, your grip on the edge of the shelf tightening. his gaze flickers between you and the ramen before he exhales, and lets out a small resigned sigh and to your surprise, he takes his hand away.

"alright," he says, stepping back slightly. "you win, take it", he says as his hand swings down. "really? thanks," you say, though your tone is cautious, like you’re not entirely sure this isn’t some kind of trick.

he gives you a small nod, then glances at his watch, grabbing a different ramen from the shelf and walking to a different aisle without sparing you another glance. you blink, a little confused but get about on your mission to get the ramen. you grab a few more stuff, some kimbap and something to drink and make your way to the cash counter when you spot the man in the suit again.

"i'm sorry sir, but i don't have change for such a big bill", you hear the worker say. "unless you buy items for that amount, i don't really have a way to give you back your change", the worker continues.

you walk front and put your stuff on the counter. "i'll pay for his stuff", you say and he looks at you.

"i've got it, i'm sure i have smaller bills somewhere", he says as he pulls out his wallet and your eyes nearly pop out with the fat wad of cash you see in it, all big bills. what the fuck. you decide to ignore what you just saw and by the time the man in the suit is digging his wallet, you've already paid for your stuff, his included.

you take your things and towards the corner of the store to cook your ramen. once the ramen is done, you take a seat and that's when the man in the suit appears again. he’s got his own ramen cup in hand, the sleeve of his tailored suit pushed up slightly to reveal an expensive looking watch. he moves methodically, peeling back the lid of his ramen cup and pouring in the hot water with a steady hand, there's no hesitation and no fumbling. he catches your gaze, and you quickly look away, suddenly very interested in your own noodles. you can feel his eyes on you for a moment, but then he goes back to his ramen, silent and composed. you sneak another glance at him and think to yourself - he is pretty handsome.

you’re halfway through your noodles, the warm broth hitting just the right spot on a cold night before you hear the shuffle of footsteps coming towards you.

"mind if i sit?" he asks, his voice smooth and you nod. he sits down with a kind of effortless grace, setting his ramen down in front of him and adjusting his sleeves like he’s dining at a michelin-star restaurant instead of a dingy convenience store. you focus on your noodles, hoping he won’t notice the way your gaze keeps flickering back to him and you watch as he stirs his ramen and takes a bite.

"you didn’t have to pay for my stuff, you know," he says after a bite, breaking the silence.

"it’s not a big deal," you reply with a shrug. "maybe you should carry smaller bills next time", you tell and you can see the faint smile on his face.

"i swear i thought i had change on me", he says, rather to himself.

"doesn’t seem like you need to worry about it," you remark before you can stop yourself. “i mean, with a wallet like that.”

his smile widens slightly, and he leans back in his chair, resting an elbow casually on the table. "appearances can be deceiving," he says, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent you can’t quite place.

you raise an eyebrow. "right, and expensive suits and fat wads of cash are just a camouflage?", you ask.

"something like that," he replies, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes now like he’s enjoying this back and forth talk, like he's amused by you.

you huff out a soft laugh as you shake your head. "well, next time you’re low on change, i suggest hitting the ATM before wandering into a convenience store", you tell and he nods.

"noted," he says, and there’s a warmth to his voice now.

"i’d like to pay you back", he says after a moment, but you shake your head.

"that's not necessary," you reply, waving a dismissive hand. "it’s just ramen", you say.

and he just looks at you, and it looks like he wants to say something more, but he settles for giving you a small smile instead. "alright, if you’re sure".

after finishing his meal, he gathers his things, straightens his perfectly tailored suit and offers you a polite, "thanks again," before leaving.

you think that’s the last you’ll see of him, until you notice something on the table, his sleek black leather wallet, the kind that practically screams expensive. your eyes widen as your hands reach out for it and you mutter under your breath.

grabbing the wallet, you flip it open and find a few crisp bills (all large denominations, of course), some credit cards and a single business card tucked inside, but there's no name, just a logo and a phone number. you hesitate for a moment before you decide to call the number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

for the next few days, you keep the wallet with you, figuring he’ll eventually call back or text or come looking for it, but nothing. it’s not until a few days later, when you’re rushing through a crowded sidewalk with a bag of groceries in one hand and your phone in the other, that fate decides to intervene. you’re trying to balance too many things at once, not paying attention to where you’re going, when you collide hard into someone coming from the opposite direction. the impact sends your phone clattering to the ground and your grocery bag spilling open. "oh, come on!" you groan, crouching to pick up your things.

"sorry about that", a familiar voice says, and you freeze mid-reach.

you glance up to see him, the ramen guy, in his perfectly tailored suit guy, crouching down to help. he looks as polished as ever, his suit immaculate despite the chaos of the street and he notices you at the same time, and his eyes widen slightly.

"you," he says, clearly surprised.

"you," you reply, just as surprised. "i've been looking for you, you left this", you say after you've gathered all your groceries and stand up. you dig into your bag and bring out his wallet, handing it over to him.

his expression shifts. "i didn’t even realize it was missing until yesterday, but by then, i figured it was gone for good", he says as he looks at you.

"well, lucky for you i found it,” you say as you hold it out for him. he takes it from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and his smile softens. “you have no idea how much this means, thank you", he says

"you’re welcome," you reply and he looks down at the wallet in his hand, then back at you.

“i owe you, again", he says. "let me buy you dinner, it's the least i can do, please", he asks and you blink, caught off guard.

"dinner? that's...", you trail off as you chew on your lip, considering his offer. "but you don't even know me?", you say, unsure.

"i'll take my chances", he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“alright,” you say, nodding. “dinner sounds nice.”

the smile that spreads across his face is slow and warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds and it softens his polished, professional look, making him seem boyish almost.

"i didn't get your name", you ask.

"i'm seungkwan", he says, holding out his hand and you reach for it, shaking it, the warmth of his hand engulfing you. "yn", you say, giving him a small smile.

you both exchange numbers and you head home, and it's only then that you wonder if he'll actually follow through. and a few days later, your phone buzzes with a text from him.

ramen guy: this is seungkwan, does friday evening work for dinner? let me know what time works for you.

you reply quickly and his response comes almost immediately.

ramen guy: perfect, i’ll take care of everything, looking forward to it.

when friday arrives, you find yourself standing in front of the address he sent—a restaurant that looks like it was plucked straight from a luxury travel magazine. the building is sleek and modern, its glass walls shimmering in the golden hour light. your nerves spike as you step through the grand entrance and suddenly you're thinking that this must be some kind of joke, that he must have sent you the wrong address by mistake because holy shit, you could barely afford this place. a host greets you with a warm smile when you walk inside. “you must be here for mr. boo seungkwan” they say, their tone polite but knowing. boo seungkwan?

the person guides you towards a private dining room and it's a beautifully set table near the window that overlooks the city skyline. you spot him waiting there and he stands up the moment he spots you, a smile lighting up his face.

he was wearing an all-black suit, and it was perfect for him, tailored to perfection, the fit making him incredibly handsome and attractive and the fit made him look effortlessly sophisticated, yet there was an ease to his posture that made him seem grounded. his dark hair was styled just enough to look intentionally tousled, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. there was something about the way he carried himself, confident but not cocky, poised but not stiff. his smile was the same: genuine and unpretentious, like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, yet somehow, in that black suit, he couldn’t help but leave an impression.

“you made it,” he says, his tone warm as he steps forward to pull out your chair for you. "yeah", you say softly, still trying to take in the posh ambience around you.

as the evening unfolds, you’re surprised by how easy he is to talk to. he’s incredibly down-to-earth and he listens intently, laughs at your jokes, and is just so sweet, a complete gentleman. his genuine interest in you, paired with his relaxed nature, made the evening feel warm and comfortable and didn't make you feel intimidated anymore.

“so, what exactly do you do?”, you ask, looking at him.

he hesitates for a moment, then shrugs lightly. “family business,” he says, clearly trying to downplay it. “it’s not that exciting.”

"so what exactly is this family business?", you ask but seungkwan only chuckles softly in response. "it's not as cool as you think. let’s just say it's a lot of paperwork, meetings, and business stuff", he makes an exaggerated motion of his hands like he was emphasizing the mundanity of it all. the date ends on a good note and he even offers to drop you home, but you decline, not wanting to impose on him anymore.

it isn’t until days later, when you’re scrolling through your phone that you stumble across an article and you realize just who he is.

heir to the boo family conglomerate, boo seungkwan spotted at his newest restaurant with someone: who’s the mystery guest?

your jaw drops as your eyes scan the article, which details his family’s massive business empire—including restaurant chains, luxury hotels, and even media companies. the photo accompanying the article shows him stepping out of the very restaurant where you had dinner with him, wearing the same outfit he had that evening, looking effortlessly handsome and polished as always.

and just then your phone buzzes with a new message from him at that exact moment:

ramen guy: i hope you enjoyed the dinner last time. let me know when you’re free again, i owe you another one.

taglist: @joshuaahong @paindivinemp3 @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852

@weird-bookworm @mirxzii @naaaaafla @wheeboo @icyminghao

@lvlystars @gyubakeries @wootify @ihrtboo @n4mj00nvq

@yoozuku

[peachglazewrites]

Hiiii could you write for hyper fem reader abby? It's totally fine if you don't write for super feminine reader tho

𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby/femme!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: none ♡︎ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: established relationship, fluff 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n, outfit descriptions, modern au & canon 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,478

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Abby helps her overthinking femme with her cute little date outfit + a brain dump on how this dynamic would work in canon!

a/n: thank you so much for the request! this is my first one so i’m suuuper nervy posting it haha but I wanted to do this between writing chapter eleven of dream of us In a year! i hope you enjoy! ✿

“Honey, I think you look fine.”

“Fine?” you ask, peeking around your closet door, eyebrow raised. “Just fine?”

Abby stutters from where she sits on your bed. “Not—” Bringing a hand up, she rubs at her forehead. “Fine as in good. Cute. Hot... I don’t know what you’re looking for.”

You laugh, crinkling your nose. “I know what you meant.” You retreat from the closet, stopping in front of your full-length mirror once more. It’s almost a struggle to see past all the stickers and photos pasted along the edges. “And thank you, I just…” you sigh, posing in the mirror, smoothing down your top. “I’m just not feeling the white, I don’t think.”

The two of you are in your bedroom, getting ready to go out for lunch. Well, you’re getting ready to go out— Abby’s been ready since before she got here. She even arrived extra early, early enough to catch you still in your pyjamas, hair curlers hanging on for dear life, smudges of yesterday’s mascara darkening under your eyes. You let her in, obviously, leading her by the hand as you sleepily shuffled back to your room.

She’s been sat there patiently the whole time, watching you pad around as you get ready for the day. It’s mesmerising to her, the way you do yourself up. Expertly brushing and pinning your hair in place, dabbing concealer and blush and a whole bunch of other things Abby doesn’t have the vocabulary to name along the soft planes of your pretty little face.

You’d just finished up, clipping a pair of sparkling earrings to your lobes when you caught your reflection in the mirror by your closet. Abby could tell just from the dip in your brows that you were second-guessing, overthinking the outfit that you had meticulously put together, deciding, ‘no, this wasn’t it.’

So, Abby keeps sitting, looking so out of place your bed, plush pink sheets threatening to swallow her up as she sinks into them, surrounded on all sides by an impressive wall of decorative pillows and plush toys— most of which have been won for you by Abby herself.

Her ripped denim jeans, loaded with too many pockets to be purely functional, are belted at her waist with an impressive buckle-- something that makes her look like she walked right off a ranch. Tucked in to the waist of her jeans is a plain white tee, short sleeves rolled up to show off more of her freckled arms, muscles bulging as she wraps them around a heart-shaped throw pillow. Her usual braid has been passed for a low bun this morning, keeping the hair off her neck in anticipation for today’s sunny weather.

The only accessory she wears is a simple necklace, a locket you got her for your anniversary, a photo of you on the inside. Technically there’s two photos, one hidden behind the other for a very particular reason, meant for her eyes only.

You turn again in the mirror, chewing on your glossy lip as you look over the white tennis skirt peeking out from under your ribbed top. It’s a delightful shade of pink with capped sleeves. You just received it in the mail the other day and haven’t had a chance to wear it, and what better time to debut it than on a lunch date with your love. The buttons along the front are shaped like hearts. It’s perfect.

Just not with this skirt.

The vision was to add something white, try and match the colour of Abby’s top, but it’s simply not working out.

With a sigh, you unzip the skirt, letting it fall off your hips and pool at your bare feet, stepping out of it and walking back into your closet. Your top is longer than usual, but not long enough to completely hide your naked thighs from Abby, let alone the peek of your underwear from her wandering eyes.

“I think I like this outfit the most,” Abby says, a sly smirk playing on her lips as she runs her gaze lazily across your bare legs.

Rolling your eyes, you grab the closest ball-shaped object (a pair of bundled up socks) and throw them at her. You manage to hit her square between the eyes with your impeccable aim. “Keep it in your pants.”

She chuckles, a low sound as she picks up the bundle from her lap. They’re a ribbed white pair, a delicate ruffle along the top. Abby hums in thought, chewing on her cheek, unrolling the socks and smoothing them out. They’re about knee high, and she recognises them from the few times she’s seen you wear them.

Her eyes flick up to you, on the tips of your toes as you shuffle through your hanging skirts, then back down to the fabric in her hands.

“Hey, babe?”

“Hm?” You keep shuffling through your skirts, metal hangers screeching as you slide them along the pole.

“Why don’t you…” she trails off, feeling a bit silly for even attempting to give you of all people clothing advice. She clears her throat, starting again. “Why don’t you wear these, and that uh—you know that denim skirt you have? With the layers? It’s got that--”

“Oh!” You pop your head out from your clothes, looking over to your girlfriend perched on the bed. “The one with the ribbon on the hem?”

“Yeah, that one. That way we’ll both be wearing denim, and your socks will match my top… right?” She tacks on, almost shyly.

Ugh. She looks so cute sitting there, socks in one hand, frilly heart pillow clutched to her chest with the other. Her lips are doing that pouting thing she does when she’s thinking, a pretty pink from all her chewing on them.

“Let me see if I can find it.”

Turning back to your skirts, you riffle through each one until you spot it, neatly pressed and folded over the hanger. It’s just how Abby remembers it, a washed denim in two layers, a lovely pink ribbon weaved in and out through the slightly ruffled hem.

Not wanting to give any room for your brain to overthink, you shuffle the skirt over your hips, buttoning and zipping it into place. It sits at that perfect length above your knee, just long enough to be modest, but short enough to be a bit flirty.

Abby lets out a whistle as you exit the closet, stepping in front of the mirror. 

“There she is.” She grins, loving the way she can see you blush in the mirror, watching as your already pink cheeks darken in colour under your makeup. The shade matches your eyes, similar pinks and reds brushed over your lids, blended delicately and precisely.

She loves it when you coordinate like this, tying everything in from head to toe.

You’ve got to hand it to her, she did a really good job. Your top sits smooth along the skirt, not looking too lumpy or awkward along your middle. It hides a fair bit of the waistband, but just like the tennis skirt, it lets the bottom peek out in a way that you can’t help but find adorable.

You don’t even have to have the socks on to know that this is a winner.

“Not too shabby, Anderson.” You grin back, turning to face her properly.

Abby sits up a bit straighter, chest puffed out in pride. Letting the pillow fall to her lap she raises one of her hands, making a spinning motion. “Give us a twirl, pretty lady.”

You let out an embarrassed giggle, cheeks burning hotter as you give in, spinning in place and finishing with a pose. You meet her gaze, warmth blooming within your chest at her soft eyes, so clear and filled to the brim with affection.

“Perfect.”

“Not yet.” You reach out, making grabby hands you walk over to her spot on the bed. “The finishing touch.”

Abby removes the pillow from her lap, patting one of her muscled thighs as she holds the socks out for you to take, smirking.

“You’re impossible.” You huff playfully, making a big show of spinning on your heels before perching on your girlfriend’s lap, taking the socks from her hand.

She chuckles behind you, her strong arms coming to wrap around your middle, pulling you back to sit flush against her chest. You can feel the cool press of her locket between your shoulder blades, her hot breath fanning across your neck as she buries her face into your shoulder.

You have to navigate around her grip on you, but you eventually roll the socks up your calves, adjusting the ruffles so they’re sitting neatly under your knees.

There. Now it’s perfect.

Abby’s arms tighten around you, squeezing you gently. With a soft hum you lean back against her chest, bringing one manicured hand up to lightly scratch at her scalp. She won’t admit it out loud, but she loves the way your nails feel. It’s part of the reason she offers to pay for you to get them done. That, and the way you get so giddy over a fresh set, staring at them for hours after you come back from your appointment.

“Thank you for being so patient. This must get so annoying.”

“Never annoying,” Abby murmurs, tilting her head to press a soft kiss to the skin of your neck. You shudder lightly, sinking into the feeling. “Like watching you get all dressed up.”

You can’t help the sigh that leaves you as she kisses up your neck, pressing her strong nose into the skin, finding the source of the perfume you spritzed there. A sweet scent that contrasts the spicy cologne she likes to wear.

“Mm… Like it when you wear this one.”

You giggle, letting out a soft gasp as she nips the skin gently. “I know, it’s why I put it on.”

She continues her path up your neck, kissing along your jaw and cheek. Holding her head in place you tilt your own to meet her, pressing your lips together in a lingering kiss.

It’s sweet. She’s sweet. Unbelievably so.

“Love you,” she mumbles against your lips, pressing in for another kiss before you can answer.

You pull away, hand sliding from the back of her head to her cheek, cupping it gently. “Love you, too.” Your thumb swipes across her lips, wiping off the tacky residue of your tinted lip gloss. “Want to head out?”

Abby nods, pressing in for one last, quick kiss before unravelling herself from you, giving your hip a loving pat. “Let’s go, before they sell out of those muffins you like.”

𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗

Working in any capacity for the WLF doesn’t leave a lot of room or time for you to indulge in your physical appearance. Practicality always takes precedence, and you would never ever jeopardise yours or others safety because you were too stubborn to wear a pair of ugly cargo pants. Even as one of the dog trainers you don’t get a lot of leeway, having to be prepared and able to run, play, train, and bathe the couple dozen dogs you keep on site every day.

You live with what you can get, fussing over your hair and wearing the small amounts of makeup you have. It’s very DIY, a couple of the women in the stadium making kohl for the eyes, lip tints and blushes from extracts of things like beetroots. It’s not perfect, but it beats the expired stuff by a longshot. That’s just an infection waiting to happen.

The thing you take the most pride in are your nails. You have your routine perfected at this point, sitting down to file and shape them, rubbing oils into your hands to keep them nice and soft as you push back your cuticles. Your favourite part is painting them, switching out the colours each time you need to redo them.

No matter what you wear or what your hair looks like that day, you’ll have your nails pretty and painted, and that’s enough to get you through.

Your girlfriend Abby is the polar opposite to you, content to spend every waking (and even sleeping) moment in her cargos and muscle tanks. Not that you’re complaining. You both know she looks ridiculously good in them.

Everything about her is practical, and she doesn’t care for putting more effort into her appearance than she has to. Even her braid is entirely utilitarian, keeping her long hair out of her face. If she does it right, she can keep it in for the couple of days while she’s out on patrol, not needing to waste moments redoing the entire thing.

She doesn’t entirely get it, the want for femininity. She’s more than comfortable leaving it behind. If she’s being honest, she likes rejecting it— finding comfort in her broadness, the boxers she slides along her hips, the spicy cologne she spritzes after her showers.

She lives for the moments when you look up at her, eyes smudged dark and lips her favourite shade of pink, manicured hands running along the planes of her face or up to scratch the back of her head as you call her handsome. She’d do just about anything for you in those moments. Fuck everyone else, you’re the only thing she can think of.

Which is why, even though she doesn’t really get understand, she goes out of her way to find things for you, bring you home little bits and pieces from her patrols that she knows you’ll love.

She takes a few minutes to step away from the others and walk the aisles of that old pharmacy, eyes roaming the displays of nail polish. She ducks through broken windows to stuff a hairclip or hair tie into one of her pockets. She pretends to go take a piss when really, she’s jogging back to the jewellers she saw on the corner, snatching a dainty chain from a display cabinet.

And it’s all so worth it when she comes home after those long days, meeting you in darkened hallways or up in your favourite spot in the stadium bleachers, kissing your tinted lips as she presses her gifts into your palm. When she can watch the smile that breaks out over your face, eyes sparkling as you turn the items over in your hand, thanking her as you pull her in for another kiss.

She’s addicted to the way her heart thumps in her chest when she sees you the next time, newest colour on your nails or that clip she just got you holding your hair back. Almost as much as the grin she gets when you spot her looking, kissing the tips of your fingers before blowing it in her direction.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ request your own here! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[chlix]

hello christ? i'm 'bout to sin again

vampire! chan x fem! reader: you're a blood donor for wealthy vampires in need of willing victims. it's possible you like your job a little too much

genre: fluff, smut (MDNI)

word count: 6.4k

warnings/tags: oral sex (fem receiving), blood drinking, unsafe sex, seriously like don't do this it's so unsanitary

a/n: i've literally never written smut so i was hesitant to post this, but i liked the idea and i had fun writing it so here it is anyway. i used the name "hyunji" bc this fic only made sense in my brain in third person, but feel free to substitute that name for your own!

Hyunji steels herself as the car she’s in pulls up to the restaurant. It’s an upscale place, with tall glass windows and expertly pruned landscaping on the circle drive. Small light fixtures are placed along edges and curves that make the already tall building exterior look even taller in the evening light. Hyunji has been to some upscale places, but nothing like this. Then again, she’s never had a client exactly like this either. She needs to be on her best behavior.

"He's a bit particular," the woman at the agency told her earlier on the phone. "He's been through a handful of our donors this month alone. I’ve received no complaints from any of them, any everyone was paid well above our rates, but none were asked for a second appointment. I can't give you any pointers for what they did wrong."

If the only consequence of the night going wrong is that Hyunji goes home with a fat paycheck and continues her job search, she’ll consider the evening a success. Sometimes donors are stiffed of their pay entirely or treated like walking bags of meat rather than people offering a service. Sometimes girls don’t come back at all.

That’s the way it goes when you’re dealing with vampires.

But Hyunji loves a challenge, and she'd already signed a liability waiver when she was put on the registry, so she'd accepted the details of the meeting and started getting ready. She’s wearing a black long-sleeved dress with a slit high enough to reveal a good amount of thigh even when she stands. The neckline is low, and the collar frames her collarbone enticingly. No necklaces, no earrings, but a single silver bracelet. She wants to look inviting; not so much done up as...put together. Polished. She doesn’t want to look like an easy meal. Hyunji knows from experience that vampires also like challenge more often than not.

She exits the car and tips the driver in cash and walks up to the restuarant with her coat wrapped around herself and her purse in hand. She approaches the maître d’ with a practiced smile on her face, and he greets her with a polite bow.

"Hello," she greets. "Reservation for Bang?"

The maître d’ calls over another attendant, who leads her to a small room off from the main dining room. A private area. Inside are a few tables spaced far enough apart that they fade away in the low lighting. In the far corner, a man sits staring at the wall, tapping idly at his plate. He has dark hair that’s gelled away from his face, and pink, plush lips. He’s wearing a suit, but Hyunji can tell that there’s muscles under it just from the way he holds his body. His eyes are a bright, unnatural blue. Even at first glance, in this dim room, Hyunji can see that he’s breathtakingly handsome. Of course, that's nothing new. Most vampires are. It’s kind of the whole point.

"Mr. Bang," the attendant says quietly. "Your guest has arrived."

The man turns to look at them, sitting up properly as he does. He gave the attendant a staged smile of his own. "Thank you very much, Sohyeon. We'll call when we're ready."

The attendant- Seohyeon- bows and leaves.

"Please, take a seat” he says, and Hyunji removes her coat and sets it on the chair, then sits down herself.

"I hope you aren't too nervous," he says. "But I thought it might be better for us to discuss these things in relative privacy."

"I'm not nervous. I appreciate the consideration."

He nods. "I'm Bang Chan. Though I suppose you already know that."

Hyunji had suspected, but it's not as if vampires are keen on photography. He could be Chan's assistant, or his errand boy. It isn’t uncommon for initial meetings like this, especially with vampires of such high stature.

"I'm Son Hyunji," she says. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise."

"Can I say, I'm a bit surprised you came in person?"

Chan's smile turns a bit wry. "Well, I prefer to make my own decisions about these sorts of things. It's not that I don't trust the other members of my coven. It's just that matters like this are a bit...personal. You understand."

"I do."

"I'm sure they gave you the rundown of my history with your agency. I hope being a frequent user isn’t a mark against me."

Chan doesn’t seem to be overly invested in the theatrics of all this, so Hyunji decides to be frank.

"They didn't give me many details. I was only told that all the girls were sent home unharmed. In this business, that's a victory."

"That's a generous outlook."

"Of course I'm generous. I'm offering my blood."

Chan cracks a smile, and some of the severity in the places of his face eked away. "That you are. I assume you came prepared today ready to be bitten?"

"If the negotiations go well, then yes, I'm prepared."

"Well, then I'll be on my best behavior," Chan said. "And I should probably get you something to eat."

He must press some button under his table, because Seohyeon reappears, ready to assist.

"Do you mind if I order for you?" he asks.

"Not at all." It isn’t uncommon. Diet has an impact on the taste of the blood, and every client has a preference. For her last position, Hyunji had found herself eating much more meat than she normally did and had to pick up running as a hobby to help with indigestion. At another job, she'd been overfed sugar, as if being fattened by a witch. Both of those had been a pain; it had been difficult to maintain her figure when she was practically being force-fed.

Chan, however, orders her a simple vegetable dish and a glass of water, along with a platter of cut exotic fruits.

"You'll need carbohydrates," he says simply. Hyunji simply nods. She can handle being grass-fed. It might even help her cholesterol levels.

Seohyeon leaves to submit their orders and returns later with a single crystalline glass. She doesn’t even attempt to set a glass or plate in front of Chan.

"You have meetings like this here often, then?" she asks.

"I do. I have high regard for their discretion."

"And here I thought I was special," Hyunji jokes, hoping to see that small smile again and being gratified when she receives it.

"Somehow I can tell that you are, regardless of my behavior."

Hyunji sips her drink for a moment, and they sit in amicable silence. Her weakness when it comes to meetings like this is her urge to fill space. She tends to talk when she's nervous, trying too hard to sell herself. She knows better than most that vampires are not a monolith, but generally speaking, they have a much higher tolerance for discomfort that most humans. They value solitude and caution. Hyunji tries to mirror this as best she can, to appear thoughtful, controlled. This too is also a test of her resolve. She can't seem like she would be easy to take advantage of. It’s a matter of life and death.

"Do you have any questions for me?" she finally asks. "You must have some harsh requirements, if no other girls have lasted more than a day."

Chan shrugs. "Sometimes people are incompatible."

"So cryptic. Is decoding your words part of the test?"

"I don't try to be cryptic. It might be hard to believe, but I'm not naturally inclined towards this sort of thing. I find these meetings awkward and artificial."

That's interesting. Hyunji sets her glass of water down. "Artificial, huh? I don't seem genuine to you?"

"It's not you, it's... all of this. The agency, the meeting, the negotiations. It just...gives me a bit of a headache."

"Would you rather chase me as I run screaming down the street?" she asks. "It wouldn't be the strangest thing asked of me."

Chan's eyes widen, caught off guard. "Someone's asked you for that?"

"Yes. I said no, of course."

Chan shakes himself out of his disbelief. "Good. I mean, not good that someone asked you that, but good that you refused. That's horrible."

Hyunji hums. "Part of the job."

"I've heard a bit about it..." he murmurs, then looks directly at Hyunji, voice resolved, focused. "I should have said this when you came in, but you're under no obligation to stay here. At any point in the night you can leave. You won't be harmed, and you'll be compensated for your time. I never want you to feel like you're trapped here with me, whether that be literally, socially, or financially." He seems to want to stop speaking, but continues, "This is what I mean by artificial. If you're in my employ, I feel as if I rob you of safety. It's not a position I enjoy being in."

This is such an unexpected turn of events. Hyunji had always assumed having power over their donors, even if it was just for show, was part of the fun. Yes, her official job is "blood donor," but in practice, she supposes most of her jobs boil down to "consensual victim." She shows up at a designated location after eating and drinking what she’s told, wearing what she’s told to wear, and is bitten. She tells nobody what she’s doing, and her clients often leave as soon as they are finished with her. But Chan says that all those things make him uncomfortable. He only wants her blood.

It’s fascinating. And too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Is that why you switch donors so frequently?" she asks. "You feel as if you're taking advantage of them?"

Chan's lips twitch. "A futile attempt at damage control, I'll admit."

"It's noble," she says, and she truly means it. "It means a lot to me to hear you say that." She’s silent for another moment, debating. "I doubt this will ease your worries, but I don't do this job as a primary source of income. I'm actually quite well-off. And I didn't get roped into this young and have some traumatic past tied to it. I'd never even met one of your kind until I took my first client, after I graduated college. If you think I'm bluffing, I can show you my bank statements. So being your regular donor wouldn't be you taking advantage of me. I could quit any time I wanted without a second thought."

"I did think you'd done this a few times. Back in your home country?”

"And a few here and there before you. Nothing permanent. I didn't like how they talked to me, so I quit. I would give their names, but y'know. Donor-client privilege."

"Then why do you do this job, if not for the money?"

She smiles. "Because I love it. Didn't I say I was generous?"

"Venom junkie," Chan says in a resigned tone.

"I'm semi-immune, actually," Hyunji corrects. "And I'm not sugarcoating it. I love helping people. I make new blood all the time, so it's not really a loss for me. And even when my clients aren't as wealthy as you seem to be, I still get to have new experiences and try new things. I'm a foreigner, y'know. It's hard to make friends in South Korea." She grins as she leans forward on the table, looking Chan very pointedly up and down. "Also, not to be crass, but getting my blood sucked is so fucking hot. It gets me going every single time."

Chan looks at her, face drawn in surprise but in a different way than before. He’s so hard to read, too practiced and trained at impassivity, but he isn’t leaning away from her, so it's possible she hasn’t made any errors so large she couldn't correct them later in the night. He'd wanted her to be genuine? Well, this is as genuine as she can get.

Seohyeon returns then, carrying Hyunji's meal and a pitcher of water to refill her glass.

"Leave the pitcher, Seohyeon," Chan says, eyes still fixed on Hyunji. "I don't want to bother you too much. We'll be a while."

Hyunji allows a cheshire grin to overtake her features. She picks up her fork and pops a kumquat into her mouth with obvious glee, relishing the way Chan watches the slide of it all the way down her dark, exposed throat.

They continue their conversation as Hyunji finishes eating. He's not as closed off as he was initially, and Hyunji finds that he's a fairly good conversationalist. His voice is calm and rich, and when he's not trying to fit into the role of "mysterious vampire" he's fairly straightforward about his account of events and memories. As a plus, he seems genuinely interested in her life, or at least the limited parts she tells him. He keeps eye contact with her and asks clarifying questions. When she politely declines to elaborate, he doesn't pry. It's a pleasant change of pace from her usual first meetings, and she has a feeling it is for him too, if his body language is anything to judge by.

The topics stray away from the topic of their meeting, talking more about the facts of their lives and relations, but the charged environment from Hyunji's declaration doesn't dissipate. If anything, it only gets stronger as the night wears on, and Hyunji notices Chan become a bit twitchier, glancing more often at the door behind Hyunji, or at the watch on his wrist. As soon as she’s finished the last bite of her food, Seohyeon reappears, summoned by that elusive button once again. She's already holding the check in hand, and Chan signs it without even looking at it and hands it back to her.

"Shall we go?" he asks. Hyunji nods.

"Thank you very much, Seohyeon. You were great tonight as always."

Seohyun bows politely, but when her eyes meet Hyunji's, she winks. It catches Hyunji off-guard, but quickly enough she's able to return with a genuine smile and a bow of her own. Seohyeon must be the attendant who always serves Chan at meetings like this. It's nice to know that she doesn't think less of Hyunji for being here, or perhaps that she's even rooting for Hyunji to catch him for good. From her high spirits, Chan must also be a good tipper, which is a point in his favor. She finds that she really is starting to like the guy. She already suspected he was decent enough for paying his donors well, but she's pleasantly surprised to find he seems to be an all-around stand-up guy, which is good. Hyunji doesn't like to overstate her importance to her clients, but she does sometimes have qualms about aiding in the continued existence of assholes.

Hyunji gets up, puts her coat back on, and grabs her purse. Chan extends his elbow to her, and she wraps her hand around his arm, jolting a bit when she feels the breadth of muscle hidden under his suit jacket. He leads her out of the room and out to the front, where he calls the valet to bring his car around.

"No driver?" she asks, half-joking, but all Chan says is, "He has the night off."

Money money. It's even more impressive than the private seating.

The drive is short but quiet. Hyunji lets the water settle in her stomach and lets Chan focus on driving. She isn't trying too hard to memorize the route. She doubts he's going to take her to some wizened alley and drink her dry. And if he does, well, at least she’s had a good night before she goes.

They arrive at an upscale hotel after only a few minutes. The car is valeted again, and she once again holds on to his elbow as they walk to the front desk and Chan asks for a room. The fact that he didn't set this room up beforehand is even more gratifying to her. It feels like winning. She's going to get dinner and a show. It's her ideal evening.

Chan hands her one the key cards and they go to the elevator. His hand resting on hers is heavy, and not particularly cold. Up close, she can see the pink of his lips and cheeks is not makeup, which means he's nowhere close to starving. He just wanted to have her that bad.

This is what she loves about it, truly. The power over the vamps who dine on her. The juxaposition almost has her feeling heady.

When they get to the room, Hyunji excuses herself immediately to the bathroom, as the water she drank has finally caught up with her. When she's finished, she looks at herself in the mirror as she washes and dries her hands, making sure everything about her is still in place. It's not that she thinks Chan would care, persay. But she's sure he'll get more satisfaction from ruining her himself.

She exits the bathroom and closes the door behind herself, so she's standing before Chan, shoes and coat gone. He's sitting on the bed, and his suit jacket is discarded, giving her a clear view of his broad shoulders and large chest. He eyes her hungrily, looking her up and down with no apology, and Hyunji doesn't even care if he's thirsty for her blood or for her flesh. She'd be happy with either.

Vampires being hot is a part of the gag, true, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy it while she's here.

"So," she asks, still standing a respectful distance away from him. "Feeling thirsty?"

Chan lets out a little laugh. "Honestly? You have no idea."

A little thrill goes through her at the rasp in his voice.

Still, honorable as he is, he offers her one last out. "If you don't want to do this, I can leave right now. I'll give you your pay and you can stay in the room. I don't expect anything out of you."

"I know," Hyunji says. "And again, I appreciate the out. But I want this. I consent to donating to you tonight."

Chan lets out a long breath and beckons her closer. She follows, walking slowly, and when she meets the bed, she crawls onto it so that she's on her knees in front of him.

"Where would you like me to take from?" he asks.

"Wherever you want," she says. "If you're uncomfortable, you can take from my wrist. But I wore this dress for easy access. Both to my neck and my thigh."

"You really weren't kidding about thinking this is sexy," he says, breathless, like he can't believe it.

"Do you live on planet earth? Everyone thinks vampires are sexy. A lot of people are just also cowards. But I'm not. And I don't think you're going to bleed my dry and leave my husk in this hotel room, are you?"

Chan shakes his head no.

"Then what's to be scared of? Is it a crime to enjoy my job?"

Chan lets out a low breath, almost like a laugh. "You're something else, aren't you?"

"I guess I am." She leans back a little, pulling herself back into her composure. "But as I said, this is meant to be enjoyable for us both. If you'd like to just drink from my wrist and leave, that's completely fine. It's not like I go around fucking all my clients. I'm capable of being professional."

"I feel like we crossed the line from professional a while ago," Chan says. "Which is my fault as much as it's yours."

Good. She was worried she'd been coming on far too strong.

"So what's the plan?" she asks again. "How do you want me?"

Chan's fingers twitched again as he scanned her up and down. "Can I touch you?" he asks.

"Yes."

In an instant, Hyunji is flat on her back, and Chan is above her, boring down on her. Her heart rate goes crazy, seeing those eyes in the shadows, the eyes of a predator. They look electric blue, hypnotic.

"I'm going to hold you right here, and you're not going to look at anyone except me," he says, his voice lower than before. "I'm going to suck your blood. And then I'm going to eat you out." His hands tighten around her wrists, and she sees the veins in his neck pop and oh god, oh god-

He's waiting for an answer, ever the gentleman. She swallows harshly and says. "Be my guest, Mr. Bang."

Chan leans down and connects their lips.

Just like she'd gathered from his hands, he's warm. Over the years, she'd gotten used to the colder body temperature of vampires, about the uncanniness of how they feel against her. She associates it now with being part of the experience, and can look past it, especially when her client is this good-looking. But here it's barely an issue. Their lips press together, and it's almost like kissing a human. As long as she doesn't think about the fact that she can't feel a heartbeat even though he's less than an inch away from her.

He licks into her mouth, and she lets him, opening her mouth wide and swallowing her gasps. Heat is spreading through her, arousal swelling all her blood vessels, and she knows the moment he smells it from how his grip tightens even further, from the growl deep in his throat. His lips trail down from her mouth to her neck, and she leans her head back to expose it more fully. She's sure he can see her heartbeat in her carotid from the way her blood rushes in her ears.

"You smell...so fucking good," he says in between heavy breaths. "Even in the restuarant...you were driving me crazy."

He sucks at Hyunji's neck, and she moans, hands straining as she tries to arch up. One of his hands releases hers and comes to grip her jaw, pushing her head to the side as he zeroes in on her neck. She can hear a deep rumbling in his chest, like a cat gearing up to pounce. She can't see his eyes, but she knows they must be dilated to black pools.

"Last chance to back out," he murmurs, lips millimeters from Hyunji's skin.

"Bite me," she says.

She sucks in a breath as his lips graze her skin. Then he bites down.

Hyunji knows that she's semi-immune to venom. She has the doctor's notes to prove it, and the experience with vampires to believe them. But there might be some truth to Chan saying she's a venom junkie anyway, because the initial bite alone is orgasmic. Her mouth drops open, her body stiffening and arching under him as she sucks in a quick breath. The smell of her own blood fills her senses, the familiar ochre and iron wafting around them hypnotically, and her thoughts zero in on the feeling of Chan pressed to her neck, of his large mouthfuls, the iron grip he has on her, as if she would even dare struggle.

She knows she tastes better when she's aroused, but it also feels better when she's willing. And oh, god is she willing. For a moment it feels like she's never wanted anything more.

Chan drinks greedily, completely at odds with the composure he's been maintaining the whole evening. It's so satisfying she thinks she might just cum again from the way he's pulling at her, the way he obviously wants her so badly it's taking all his self-control not to rip her apart. And what a way to go, really. The epitome of dying happy.

The lightheadedness is only barely setting in when he pulls off her, releasing both her hands and her head. His lips are stained red, and his cheeks are flushed. She can see, even with his blown pupils, how hazy his eyes eyes are. His grip on her wrists hasn't faltered for a second.

"Fuck," he says, but even that is far away. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," she says. "Come here."

She grips his jaw and pulls him down, and he goes easily, connecting their lips in a messy swirl of blood and drool and venom. She can feel the tang of it still as his fangs are still prominent in his mouth. They're large, and she feels the tip of one cut her own lip, blood pooling between her teeth. Chan pulls away with a moan.

"You taste so good," he murmurs, licking his lips, absolutely blood-drunk. "Fuck. Want you so bad."

"And you're fucking gorgeous," she says. "So in-control. You gonna take care of me, Chan? You gonna make me feel good?"

That rumbling starts in his chest again, and Chan is on her again, his full weight pressing down on her, stealing the breath from her lungs. Vampires always weigh more than you think they would, and Chan is heavy with her blood. His skin is burning, almost feverish. It's so monstrous. It's so fucking sexy.

"Gonna eat you out so good," he murmurs against her lips. "Gonna make you scream."

"God, please," she whines. "Please. Want your mouth. Wanna cum so bad."

Chan abandons her lips and shuffles down the bed to the curve of her hips. He doesn't have to push her dress up that far to have access, and he doesn't even bother to actually remove her panties, instead pushing them aside and diving in. His fangs are still extended, and the slick feeling of bone against her labia sends a thrill of fear down her spine. What if he cuts her down there? Will he start drinking from that too? Her juices and blood mixing together for him? The fear only makes it more attractive, and she pushes down into his mouth, wanting more, wanting him deeper. His tongue is so wet, so rough, his fingers on her thighs are gouging holes into her skin, they must be, but she doesn't make him stop, she just heaves in haggard breaths, begs him to keep going.

His tongue swirls around the head of her clit and then takes it into his mouth and sucks. The twine in Hyunji's stomach snaps, eyes rolling back, and her breath pushed harshly out of her lungs in what is, admittedly, closer to a scream than she thought she'd get. Her vision is hazy for a moment, head full of roaring and fog as she recovers from both the blood loss and the intensity of the orgasm. Chan pulls away from her as her body goes lax, and she can hear him breathing in deep lungfuls of air. It doesn't occur to her for another few seconds that he doesn't even need to breathe. It's cute. She loves it when they still have vestigial impulses.

Time is murky for a while. Hyunji doesn't feel Chan get off the bed and step away and is only dimly aware of hands on her neck, something cooling brushed under her skin. Her head is a mess, she doesn't know which way is up. She's no stranger to this feeling, though, even though it's rarely so strong. She just breathes through it, and lets her body do what it must, and slowly, everything begins to settle back into focus.

When she opens her eyes, she's still lying on the bed. There's no one with her, but she can feel eyes on her. After another minute, she feels alright to sit up, and is proud that the dizziness doesn't seem too bad. Apparently, he hadn't taken as much blood as she'd thought.

Chan is sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He'd been looking out the window before, but his eyes snap over to her when she moves, and in a second he's by her side, arm around her back so he can help her into a sitting position against the headboard.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. His hair has gone astray from it's perfect placement, and his cheeks are still flushed, but his eyes are back to normal now, present and assessing and nearly human in its clear concern.

"I'm fine," she says. It feels like a gross understatement considering what’s just transpired.

"I didn't mean to take so much," he says apologetically. "I didn't think I'd lose control so quickly."

If this is what Chan calls losing control, then Hyunji pales at the thought of what he'd say if she explained some of the encounters she's endured.

"You stopped yourself even before I would've," she assures him. "I'm barely dizzy at all. And my shakiness is just as much from the orgasm as the donation."

"You're sure?" he asks. The 180-degree shift from his earlier persona is as surprising as it is pleasant. His concern is adorable, and it seems so genuine. She finds herself smiling genuinely herself.

"I'm sure. I'm completely alright. I should, ah, probably eat something though."

"Yes. Of course."

Chan jumps up to grab the hotel phone and call for someone, and Hyunji takes stock of her body. There's a bandage over her neck and some form of antiseptic has been put on her lip. She can taste the medicinal tang. The area between her legs also feels wiped down where it's now covered with the drapings of her skirt.

Probably to clean up the blood, she thinks, remembering the frenzied state Chan had been in when he went down on her. God, she really was crazy. She hated being treated like fresh meat, but she loved it when they pretended like she was.

As her strength returns, she sits up properly, with her legs curled beside her. Chan goes to the door to get the food when it's delivered, and Hyunji accepts the small platter gratefully.

"I'm surprised the kitchen is still open," she comments.

"This is Josun Palace. The kitchen is always open."

Hyunji shrugs and eats her offered food. Chan still seems anxious about her state, but as she converses with him nonchalantly, he seems to believe in her good health, and the nervous energy fades.

Finally, after Hyunji has again finished her food and water, Chan says, "I should be off."

The disappointment hits Hyunji like a freight train. Maybe she'd been imagining it, but she thought that this had been going well. She had good blood and a good body, and he'd seemed to think her pleasant enough. She's old enough now that she shouldn't still be surprised when she reads vampires incorrectly, but this one stings, not just for the loss of a job, but for the loss of Chan, who she'd started to genuinely like at some point during the evening.

"If you must," she said, trying not to sound too put out. "I know you must be busy."

Chan looks a little torn. "Would you prefer I stayed?"

"I don't expect you to do things you're not comfortable with," Hyunji parroted. "If you've finished with me, you have every right to go."

"Hyunji, I didn't mean..." Chan sighs, takes a breath. "I just don't want you to feel as though you're trapped here with me. You've done your job as well. You can ask me to leave at any time."

"I'm not trapped with you. Like I said, I do this because I like it. And I know you're not going to hurt me, unless you're playing a really long game." Hyunji looks him right in the eyes when she says. "You're really nice, Chan. Don't tell my regulars back home, but this has been my best night, maybe ever. I won't hold you here, because you don't owe me anything, but I'm not uncomfortable with you at all."

Chan examines her closely, perhaps to divine if she's lying or not, but Hyunji means what she said. It might be one of the easiest jobs of her entire life, and one of her best hook-ups. No part of her feels like a cornered animal.

"I'll stay until you sleep," Chan offers. "So I can make sure you're okay."

"And then I'll never see you again?"

On this topic, Chan doesn't budge. "We'll see."

Well, if it's the best she's going to get, she'll take it. She sets the tray aside and gets up to use the bathroom, pleased to find her feet aren't the least bit wobbly. She doesn't wash her makeup off, but she does take her contacts out and change out of her dress into one of the hanging gowns by the shower. She'd actually wash herself clean if it wasn't so much effort.

Chan is sitting on the bed when she comes back out, and she's pleased to see he doesn't move as she approaches, just scoots away so she can climb back in under the covers and curl up. Gentle hands come to pull at her chin, exposing the bite in her flesh.

"It doesn't hurt," she murmurs. "And I don't scar easy."

"Junkie," he says, but this time it's affectionate instead of accusatory.

"I’m a professional," she rebuffs, eyes drifting closed. She falls asleep with his thumb still caressing her cheek.

Hyunji wakes up the next morning to find sunlight coming from the bottom of the blinds and Chan nowhere to be found. She groans as she wakes up and identifies the throb in her neck as the minimal venom effect finally wears off, leaving only the pain of the puncture.

She stumbles to the bathroom to remove her makeup and shower and drags back on the same dress and shoes she had the day before. There's a good chance the workers downstairs won't recognize her, and anyway, she's long past feeling shame for reappearing in the same clothes she'd left in. Everyone's done it, and she's not embarrassed of her slutty tendencies when they're so much of a part of her by now.

On the table next to her purse is a wad of cash. She can't begin to estimate how much. It was one of the things they hadn't discussed beforehand, was exactly how much she'd be paid. She assumed something approaching the going rate for her agency, but this appears to be much more. Tucked under the rubber band at the top of the stack is a note from Chan that says, Drink water when you wake up. You were shivering in your sleep.

Cute. Cullen-level creepy, but still cute. Hyunji puts the cash in her purse, checks the room over again, and leaves.

It isn't until the uber drops her off at her home and she's changed into comfortable clothes that she gets a call from Kimiya at the agency again. She runs through a similar debrief as the other girls before had given, that Chan was cordial and polite, that he took her blood and paid her well, and she has nothing more to say on the matter. Kimiya seems frustrated again, but promises to e-mail over the paperwork for their records and tells her to look after her heath. When Hyunji hangs up the phone, she sets it down and folds herself into her living room couch.

Chan hadn't given her his phone number, or any other means of contacting him. She supposes she could easily look him up, but that's against the rules of her contract, and at any rate, it's best not to go looking for vampires when they don't want to be found. Hyunji knows that at least well enough.

"Another notch on his belt," she says to herself. "It's what I expected going in."

She tells herself the lingering disappointment she's feeling is just the venom still in her system and goes to the kitchen to make herself breakfast.

Hyunji gets caught up in her life in the following days. She has "kind of" a job that she "kind of" has to go to, and "kind of" meetings that she "kind of" has to attend. It's nothing serious, and mostly for appearances, but she has nothing better to do with her time, so she goes anyway. By the middle of the week, her night with Chan is at the back of her mind, filed away with all her other patrons.

It doesn't exactly leave her, though. She wishes it would, because it's getting kind of embarrassing, but for some reason the feelings are hard to shake. Maybe it was because she liked Chan, not just as a respectful client, but as a person. Under different circumstances, she thought they would have gotten along well. That's where the loss might be coming from, in truth, not of him as a client, but him as a potential friend.

But vampires don't keep humans around like that. At least, not outside cheesy romance novels and dramas. They stick to their own, and humans stick to their own. Hyunji knows that. Which means she's got to get a grip.

'Getting a grip' lasts two weeks, when Kimiya gives her another call late Thursday morning. This is in line with the usual timeframe. Hyunji doesn't take any medications she needs to detox from, so she's a prime candidate for people who need last-minute donations. The minimum time between two donations is two weeks, so this is the earliest that Hyunji could potentially take any requests.

"Hello, Kimiya," she says, answering the phone cheerfully. "What do you need?"

"I have news," Kimiya says, deviating from the script. Hyunji stops short.

"Oh?"

"Bang Chan wants to request you again."

Hyunji's heart leaps into her throat. "He does?"

"Yes. He wouldn't give much more information than that, but he did specify that this would be in a more casual setting, and that he did not anticipate feeding from you at this time. Of course, this means you also wouldn't be paid for attending the meeting."

Hyunji has a feeling that whether she gave blood had nothing to do with her potential financial gain.

"I'll do it," Hyunji says. "When's the meeting?"

"Tomorrow, Friday, at eight pm. I'll send you the address."

"Perfect." She’s sure she can’t keep the excitement out of her voice. "Thank you, Kimiya."

"Of course," Kimiya says. Then, "What did you do with him? He and his coven have been running through our girls like water."

Hyunji presses a finger against her neck, relishing the feel of the blood rushing under her skin. "Oh, you know. The best strategy is just to have fun and be yourself.”

[lfzyxf]

Could you please write some isaac lahey fluff, maybe about reader wearing his sweater?

I'm so excited to write for Teen Wolf again. Thank you so much for requesting this, I hope its to your liking! Masterlist Word count: 1480

It’s easy to forget that even in Beacon Hills, California the weather gets colder during the winter. So easy that you’re now sitting in class shivering and struggling to focus on whatever Coach is saying. You pull the sleeves of your sweater down to cover your hands before rubbing them over your hands, trying to warm yourself up.

After a few more seconds of trying to warm yourself something in the corner of your eye grabs your attention. You turn slightly to see it’s a cardigan being handed to you by Isaac. You’re not that close to him even if you wish you were, you mostly got to know him when he became friends with Scott. But even then, you were too shy to actually try and get to know him better.

You hesitantly move to take the cardigan before smiling softly at him. All he does in response is wink at you before turning back towards the front of the class. Holding the sweater in your hands you feel how soft it is, you recognize it as well. It’s a long grey and black striped cardigan. You recall it being his favourite with how often he wears it.

Finally, you put it on, instantly feeling a lot warmer. The sleeves fall past your hands which makes you roll them up. When you look back up you see Isaac staring at you, a soft smile resting on his lips and his cheeks tinted a soft pink. You smile back at him before finally focusing on whatever Coach is going on about this time.

After an incredibly boring 40 minutes class is finally over. You quickly rush to grab your stuff so you can make it on time for your next class on the other side of the building. You barely make it on time, plopping down in your seat next to Lydia. “Did you run here?” she asks looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “Basically, I don’t know who made my schedule but when I found them-” she interrupts you, pointing at what you’re wearing “is that Isaac’s cardigan?”.

Shocked you look down; you completely forgot you were wearing his cardigan. “I-uh, yeah. I was cold during class, so he lent it to me. I completely forgot to give it back.” You explain while Lydia just stares at you with a smug look on her face. “He just happened to notice you were cold and offered you his favourite cardigan?”

Your cheeks start to feel warm; you shake your head while playing with edge of the cardigan. “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything to him, he was just being friendly I’m sure” you reason. She clearly doesn’t agree as she just shakes her head right as the teacher walks in.

Classes are finally over for today causing you and Lydia to walk back to your lockers with excitement. The group is going over to Scott’s place to hang out for the rest of the day. When you arrive at your lockers the others are already waiting on you. Stiles is leaning against the locker next to yours with Scott next to him, they’re talking to Allison about something. You quickly open your locker, stuffing your books into it. “Is that a new cardigan?” Allison asks confused, pointing at it. You don't get a chance to respond before a different voice responds, “It’s mine actually.”

You quickly turn around, and behind you is Isaac, leaning against the locker next to you, similar to Stiles. He smiles at you before asking, “I hope it kept you warm?” Your brain takes a moment to catch up before you respond, nodding “Yes, yes it did thank you! I’m sorry for running off with it, i had to run to make it to my next class and I just completely forgot about it.” Your cheeks are heating up again as he looks down at you, eating up your every word.

He shakes his head softly “Nah don't worry about it, you look better in it anyway. Wouldn’t want you to freeze either” he says before standing up normally “are we leaving?” He asks nodding towards the exit. There’s a moment of silence before Scott speaks up and we leave to go to his place for the scheduled hangout.

While making your way to Scott’s place Allison and Lydia hang in the back with you. “So, what was that about?” Allison asks smiling. You shrug “I have no idea-” “he clearly likes you” Lydia interrupts. You push her softly before shushing her. “Maybe don’t talk about it so loudly?” you say with wide eyes, glancing at Isaac hoping he didn’t hear anything with his heightened senses.

Lydia simply rolls her eyes while Allison puts her arm around your shoulders. “Why don’t you just ask?” You stare at Allison for a moment before replying, “Are you actually insane? Do you need medical help?” She laughs before shaking her head “You won’t know until you ask.” You sigh softly, looking at the ground “What if he doesn’t like me like that? It would just get awkward between us.” “But what if he does” Lydia responds, she’s smiling softly at you, a comforting look in her eyes. “You can’t let this opportunity go to waste just because you’re scared.”

You take a breath before nodding “I’ll talk to him about it later.” The two girls smile at you until Stiles interrupts the sweet moment “Can you guys walk any slower?”

Stiles is terrible at Mario Kart, that much is clear by the fact that he’s lost 3 times in a row. He still refuses to give up, convinced that he’ll one the next round against Scott. You stopped playing after the 2nd round, your head started to hurt from how loud Stiles screams when playing. Lydia and Allison are sitting on the sofa watching Scott and Isaac absolutely kick Stiles’ ass in the game. Even after another round of losing Stiles is convinced he can win so he goes up against Scott once more. This time Isaac doesn’t play, similarly he complains his head is starting to hurt. “I’m not even that loud!” Stiles retorts, or more so yells. “Yes, you are” all of us reply in turn.

You’re still laughing when Isaac walks up to you, crouching so only you can hear him. “Could we talk for a moment?” He asks looking up at you. You nod briefly, wondering what on earth he would have to say to you in private. “Of course,” you stand up before following him to the kitchen, moving to sit on the countertop with him leaning against the kitchen table.

The both of you stay silent for a moment, tension high in the air. “So, what did you want to talk about?” You ask softly, playing with the hem of his cardigan that you’re still wearing. It takes another moment for him to respond, “You know, when I first met you, I was wondering why on earth you were even talking to me. I was an absolute nobody, I barely had any friends, and I wasn’t doing great in lacrosse.” He sighed before continuing “After Derek bit me I was convinced I could finally ask you out. That you would finally want me like I have wanted you. But even then, I was too scared, I couldn’t get myself to tell you how I felt.”

He moved closer to you, his hand moving to cover your cheek before softly caressing it. “But today I finally had the guts to make a move, and when I saw how adorable you looked with my cardigan on, I knew I had to tell you. But then you ran out of class, and I missed my chance. So, I’m telling you now because I’m not missing another chance.”

He moves even closer, your knees pressing against his legs. He tilts his head down to look into your eyes before he speaks once more “I really like you-” he laughs softly “Honestly, I think I might be in love with you.” You can’t hold back your smile; your hands move to rest on his chest when you ask if he’s being serious. He nods, his head dropping down to rest against yours. “I feel the same way” you laugh, “I was too scared to say anything.” The two of you laugh for a moment. Finding the fact that both of you felt the same way but were just too scared to say anything incredibly stupid.

“Then, could I ask for the honour of being yours?” He asks, smiling at you, his cheeks painted an adorable red. You quickly nod in response, smiling before finally kissing him. His hands move to hold your face, the two of you enjoying the moment until you are once again interrupted by Stiles screaming in victory as he finally wins a game. 

[solarwoniii]

" ˋ꒰ pinky promise ꒱ " - ft. choi seungcheol

[ nsfw post! minors please do not interact. there are many other posts on my and other’s blogs which are much more suitable for your consumption! ]

syn. nothing gets to cheol like a pinky promise

a/n. OMG SECOND FIC IN THE LAST MONTH??? SORLAWONI LOOK AT YOU GO???? gusy i love seugncheol i wanted to write more of this but it was getting too long so i cut out the part where seungcheol jr comes in and i put it in another fic LOL

cw. fingering, orgasm denial, vvv teasing dom!cheol, vvv subby!reader, daddy kink, praise, petnames (princess), ermm i think thats it but lmk if i missed anything!

wc. 0.8k

"b-but you promised i could cum-" you mindlessly rambled into your sleeve, your body twitching with pleasure all over as seungcheol rammed his three thick digits in and out of you rapidly, having you choking on your own breath as you struggled for air, "a-after i took my p-punishment..!"

he only scoffed in response to your choked out reasoning, his ruthless movements clearly showing no sign of stopping, "oh, and remind me what you promised me, princess?"

you felt tears pricking at your eyes, your cheeks heating up from bashfulness as he slowed his movements, now curling his fingers up into your core, edging you for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

with his other hand he grabbed your chin between his two fingers, looking into your eyes, "i asked you a question."

you sniffled through the flooding tears which grooved along your pink waterline, "i-i promised i would s-stop being a brat..." you whimpered softly.

"hmm, that's right." seungcheol responded in his deep, earthy voice, "it doesn't feel nice when someone doesn't keep their promise to you, does it princess?"

you shook your head and bit your bottom lip, "n-no daddy.." you said, voice coming in sharp shards as his thumb came up to rub at your clit, sending shockwaves of bliss through your veins. you blinked hard at some tears as they rolled down your cheeks, "i'm s-sorry..."

"awh, you're sorry?" he pouted mockingly in response to you, but with your fuzzy head now, you really couldn't tell that he was ridiculing you.

you nodded your head quickly, the tears in your eyes webbing into your lashes, "i'll b-be a good girl... p-pinky promise..!" you babbled, your words only slurring together as your fogged up brain seemed to fall into another level of dumbness.

seungcheol only chuckled lowly at this, "pinky promise?" he repeated, clearly amused at just how fucked out he had gotten you, to the point that you were beginning to lose your own mind. "well, there's no arguing with that, is there princess?" he teased at you, his fingers seemed to suddenly speed up in fluidity.

your mouth only fell agape, eyes rolling back and head lulling to the side as your back arched off of the mattress at the feeling. his thick, long digits filling you all the way to the brim, his fingertips rubbing over your hilt in a way so pleasureful, you could see stars in your blurry vision. your hand gripped tightly onto his shirt as you looked up at him, your eyes glistening with tears as the moonlight from the window nearby shone in on your pretty little convulsing figure on the bed.

"d-daddy, c-an i-?" the rest of the sentence caught in your throat as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

usually, he'd use this opportunity to tease you into a farther away dimension of overstimulations, asking the annoying questions like, 'can you what, princess?' so that he could watch your quiver and writhe until you were sobbing into the satin of your pillowcase, begging for your climax like a helpless little damsel.

but you'd been punished by a fair amount tonight, and he was feeling generous. he kissed your forehead gently and nodded his head, "let go for me, princess."

and let go you did, gushing around his fingers, a choked cry leaving you as your entire body trembled with delectation, your eyes shutting tightly as tears escaped down your temples. your soft, yet sharp whimpers made him smirk as you held tightly onto him, as if he were all you knew.

"that's it princess... good girl," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss you. he pulled out his digits, rubbing them over your sensitive heat in gentle circles to help ride you out as you came down from your high, panting heavily against the feel of his mouth.

once you had soothed, he looked down at you with a warning stare, "this is the last time i'm letting you get away with it, okay? if you misbehave again... you're in trouble."

that was what he had told you last time. and the time before that. and the time before that. every time, he'd bent. his soft spot for you was just too deep for his own good. the both of you knew that his threats meant nothing, but you looked up at him innocently and batted your eyelashes anyway, nodding your head.

he sighed softly and kissed your cheek, "you're gonna be the death of me one day..." he muttered, closing his eyes for a brief moment, before looking back to you, "come on, let's get cleaned up. i'll cook dinner."

taglist. @hunbun07 @metalchick529 @chewryy @haesunflower @iraa567 @jwchn @bunhoons !

[cillsworld]

Help me doctor Crane✧₊⁺

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Ship|Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary|you run into Jonathan out of fear and he takes advantage of the situation.

Word Count|1344

Warnings|smut(18+!), age gap!, oral(m!rec), deep throating, chocking, crying?, kidnapping, innocent! reader, dub-con?

Notes|soo this is my first like smut writing or fanfic ever, well it's a drabble but ykyk. I think it's okay but I don't love it, also had no idea how to end it so it's a bit random but yeah😭 hope u enjoy! masterlist

"Oh look at you, such a pretty little thing.." His raspy but quiet voice sighed out, itching a part of your brain in the most pleasant way, his presence fully intoxicating you; from the odd way he smelt or how he held your face, squeezing your cheeks between one hand while mocking you.

"practically ran into the belly of the beast and why? Because you were scared?" the condescendence was dripping from his tone as he chuckled dryly, finding it hilarious that after being sprayed by one of his goons you had run to his arms for comfort, and now you're stuck here in his little 'base'; whining behind the cloth he had hastily stuffed in your mouth, struggling against the restraints he had put on you while your brain was still hazy, somehow managing to bind you to a support beam.

"what am I gonna do with you hmm?" He continued in a bit of an agitated tone, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared you down, "I could just.. kill you?" he muttered out and your eyes naturally widened, the dangers of this situation setting in, specially when you saw the gleam in his eyes, a muffled whimper escaped you.

"but that would be such a waste..." He was almost talking to himself now in a barely audible tone, his eyes dropping to blatantly check you out.

You tried speaking from behind the gag, wanting to have a say in the matter of your own life and death; he rose an eyebrow in response, reaching up to untie it, seemingly interested in what you have to say for his own amusement.

"please don't kill me doctor Crane, please! I'll do anything!" Your pleas were met with a very bored looking 'doctor Crane', seemingly sick of the generic lines he'd heard one too many times, but they were definitely different coming from a youthful, attractive girl such as yourself and caused a certain tightness in his pants.

Your frantic pleas were interrupted by a hum of his smooth voice, "anything? You'd do anything?" he repeated in a strangely slow tone, though it was unsettling you rushed to nod in response, not letting the chance of surviving letting slip.

He scoffed lightly, glancing downward in thought before taking leisurely steps behind the pole you were tied to, undoing the messily done knots to release your sore wrists, "let's test that theory then.."

Of course you tried to make a run for it but a hand in your hair and arm over your neck were quick to pull you back, so quick in fact that you were sure he anticipated your attempted escape which made you feel dumb for even trying.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy right sweetheart?" he muttered in your ear, his voice had a eery edge to it now that made goosebumps rise all over your skin.

"You're choking me..." Your now raspy voice spoke as your eyes started to well up from the burn in your scalp, your hands reached up to try and pry his arm off your neck though he was much stronger than you so your efforts were to no avail

"oh am I?" He spoke in mock pity, tightening his arm around your neck making you yelp as you started to panic even more, "could've just played nice but you just had to go and be a smartass huh"

"I'm sorry.. Please stop I'm sorry" you whimpered out as tears dripped down your cheeks, landing on the sleeve of his coat that probably cost an unreasonable amount of money.

Your ears perked up as the sound of sniffing reached them, his hands left you hair and neck before turning you around to face him while you took in quick breaths to fill your parched lungs, "smell so sweet.."

He muttered more to himself than you while playing with a strand of your hair, blue eyes looking over your flushed, wet and sniffling face, "how old re'you sweetheart?" His oddly soothing voice questioned as he cupped your cheek with one hand, wiping a stray tear with his thumb.

"I'm- uhm, nineteen.." He sucked in a sharp breath at that, his pale cheeks flushing lightly, "then you know what I want don't you? What you'll have to do in order for me to free you.." He questioned lowly,

You had a vague idea of what he wanted, but hoped if you pretended not to know you'd be able to escape faster, "what do I have to do doctor Crane?" You questioned back with a tilt of your head.

"Don't play dumb sweetheart" he retorted with a scoff, finding amusement in your antics.

"I want you" you let out a little squeak of surprise feeling the force of his hands on your shoulders, pushing till you were sitting on your knees.

"To be on your knees and suck me off, is that clear enough for you?" He questioned with a mocking tilt of his head, squishing your cheeks between one hand as he did so, "y-yeah.." You responded quietly with a little nod.

Your shaky hands reached for his zipper, glancing up at him before pulling it down and unbuttoning his pants to reveal his covered bulge, you were about to pull his boxers down but paused, letting your fingers rest on the cotton hem.

"I've never.. done this before doctor Crane" you voiced your nerves quietly, chewing on your bottom lip as your cheeks flushed from embarrassment, his face softened slightly at your confession.

"I know.. I'll help you" he responded in a soothing tone, running a hand through your hair, he reached his other to pull down his black boxers to reveal his hard dick.

He took pleasure in the way you started at it in awe, "go on, touch it" he told you quietly, you tentatively brought your had and wrapped it around his base, looking up at him with wide eyes as he wrapped his hand around yours and guided it to stroke him.

"now wrap your lips around it and suck" he ordered impatiently, removing his hand from yours as you got the hang of it, you did as he asked and took his tip in your mouth, letting your tongue lick the beads of pre-cum off his slit, a groan escaping him that urged you on, getting bolder as you took him half way and hallowed your cheeks.

His hand tightened in your hair as he started thrusting in your mouth in sync with the way he was making your head go up and down on his dick, "there you go.." He muttered out, basking in the little whimpers escaping you as he went deeper and deeper.

As he started breaching your throat barrier your squirming grew and his pleasure increased at the tightness of your throat, he let you go for a moment to take a breath before pushing you all the way down till your nose was buried in his pubic hair, triggering your gag reflex as you tried to push yourself off, "calm down and take it, you've gotta work for your reward darling"

He muttered out as your eyes started watering, your whimpers and muffled mewls sending waves of pleasure straight to his brain and making his eyes roll back into his head, his hand tightening in your hair as he started rutting into your mouth, letting his body be controlled by the pleasure while panic induced you from the lack of air.

You felt his cock twitching in your mouth before he pulled out and let you fall back on your elbows, he aimed himself to come all over your face and exposed cleavage, most of it going in your mouth as you tried to breathe.

He tucked himself back in as you tried to collect yourself, he grabbed your face and collected most of his come on his finger and shoved it in your mouth, "swallow" he instructed simply and you did as he asked, cringing at the taste.

He removed his finger with a pop and straightened himself up, brushing a hand through his hair before looking down at you, "you should run into me more often sweetheart"

[satangcrush]

Hi hi hiiiii ♡♡♡

In your solomon marrige post, you mention Diavolo would WANT to elope, but couldn't because of being prince. He would be sooo pouty about it though, like, Lucifer would probably leave their meetings with a headache from Dia complaining about it. (One of Dia's homescreen lines is him saying Lucifer told him off for talking about how beautiful MC is lmao). Idk you've just put this in my mind and I cannot stop rotating him!!

Long way of saying I love your writing, have a great day!!

“Have you ever thought of getting married?” He asks you one day, face stern with curiosity.

You bark out a laugh haphazardly after the silence settles in the air for a beat too long. You’ve thought of this question a billion times but haven’t had the guts to let it play out in your head for too long.

“Why the sudden question?”

Diavolo shoves the sleeves of his shirt up, and you can’t help but stare in dry-mouthed silence. The ink splatters on his finger catch your attention, and you move to grab a tissue to wipe it for him.

“I’ve been thinking about it.” He confesses into the air, ears tinged with a red hue.

You thought the topic had been over: blinking in surprise as you smoothed the tissue over the pad of his index finger. It was a wonder how he still managed to get messy even when he was trying to be careful. You kind of want to lick the ink off.

“You have?” 

The declaration makes your stomach flip in on itself but you quickly squash it down. You know your place well enough. Though, the small thing called hope flutters in your heart.

He nods, presence commanding in a way that makes your skin tingle. You shuffle in your seat, waiting for him to add more. He tilts his head, tired eyes crinkling at the corners with that honeyed smile; you have come to recognise was meant only for you.

“In fact, Lucifer told me to talk to you.” He admits softly, forgoing the pen in his grip to wrap his hands around yours. “He said he was tired of hearing me go on about the same thing.”

“Is that why Lucifer has been in a deplorable mood lately?” You questioned, faking an air of nonchalance as you subtly pinched the skin of his finger. He wiggles the appendage, stopping your motions instead.

“Probably.” He shrugged, a little too casually for your liking.

You hummed, a coy tune you had picked up from Luke while baking with the sweet angel. A cheery ring that probably didn’t suit the situation at hand but you were nervous, placing the other hand on your heart. The prince briefly scans your face before tugging you nearer to him.

“Do you think it’s possible to avoid Barbatos for one full day?” He whispers into the crook of your neck. You could practically feel the pout against your skin. It makes you shudder.

You cross your arms behind his neck, staring at the ink splatter that has now smudged onto your own fingers. We can, the irrational part of your brain urges you to blurt out.

“I can’t answer that.” You say instead.

The unspoken answer floats in the air for a second before Diavolo smashes it with his jolly voice. You hate it in times like this.

“Right.” He pulls back to look at you, an almost imperceptible frown pulling on his face. You soften, unlocking your fingers to cup his face gently. “A prince can only dream right?”

With great effort, you curved your lips into a smile — wobbly at the edges as you continued to knead at his face.

“The future ruler of the Devildom comes with great responsibility.” You teased but his face remained stony, eyes cloudy with thought. You both know the underlying meaning of your words. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

(Don’t forget your duty to the Devildom, Diavolo repeats in his head. A mantra drilled into him ever since he could remember. He wishes for more than what he could have. 

Wasn’t a ruler supposed to be greedy?)

“I’ll work on it.” He stirs, bringing his hands up to place them over yours. You see the glint of determination sparking in his eyes. “I’ll do it for you.”

“For us.” He repeats, leaning in until the tip of your noses are barely touching.

You’re at a loss for words, only managing to nod before he closes the distance, darting his tongue out to lick at your lips. You pull back after a few seconds, his words still heavy on your mind.

“Okay.” You mumble, turning your head as he continues to place chaste kisses at the edge of your lips. “I believe in you.”

You watch as his face lights up into a smile.

“Watch me.” He pulls you in for a hug, one that knocks the breath out of you. “I love you.”

You want to say something in return but you opt for squeezing him back in tandem. 

He already knows your heart anyway.

edit - day 11 for @om-adventcalendar

[spoopydeboop]

Hello, and welcome to…

Pointless Palia Head-Cannons!

This is a segment where my hyper-focused and obsessive brain will shower you all with all of the pointless very important head-cannons I have about the MMO Palia and its many NPCs!

Today’s topic is:

Which Palia NPCs can sing well and which ones simply cannot carry a tune?

Now, in the words of the famous Italian plumber, “Here we go!” (List below the cut!)

NPCs are listed in alphabetical order.

• Ashura - Absolutely yes, but in a very deep, sea-shanty / Gaelic tune way. He’s not the most technically sound, but his voice is very gruff and soothing. Absolutely sang his son lullabies every night.

• Auni - No, I’m sorry. Convinced that he cannot carry a tune AT ALL but thinks he can. Sings loudly with zero inhibition whatsoever. Gotta give him credit there!

• Badruu - We know this man was in a traveling Bard group, so he’s musically inclined for sure. I feel like he would have been killer backup and filler vocals and he can harmonize beautifully.

• Caleri - Doesn’t believe in fun, jovial activities like singing. (Elouisa informs you later that her sister can in fact not carry a tune at all.)

• Chayne - Absolutely. He’s naturally musically inclined, but part of his spiritual training involved learning to lead chants and hymns. Bass level vocals, v soothing.

• Delaila - Not at all. Where do you think Auni gets it? Part of what entranced her about Badruu in the beginning was his musical abilities. She’ll still sing along with a group and put her all into it though!

• Einar - The concept of producing a vocal stimulation to create a pleasing melodic sound is lost to the robot. But if it’s your Oneness, he respects it.

• Elouisa - Cannot sing, but definitely played clarinet in high school and was first chair!

• Eshe - No way. Cruella de Vil type vibes. She definitely was classically trained on the piano, but doesn’t often exercise the skill.

• Hassain - Can absolutely carry a tune and harmonize well! Definitely low baritone or higher bass in range. Can harmonize with higher ranges very well!

• Hekla - Her Jina often sings to herself as she works, but the ability and desire to produce a series of melodies is not within her rune programming.

• Hodari - Not the biggest fan of singing, but has a decent voice that comes off pleasantly gruff and southern. I imagine if Pedro Pascal’s ‘Joel’ from The Last of Us sang a slower, more reserved tune. (My other example was the dad cow from Back at the Barnyard that sings “I Won’t Back Down”… Let me know if that woulda been better or worse.)

• Jel - Definitely took vocal lessons with his sisters. Has a very pleasant and airy singing voice that is very technically sound.

• Jina - Doesn’t really sing much except for to herself. Massive stage fright on this one! Hekla says that her Jina seems happy when she sings, and that’s what matters.

• Kenji - Honestly? 100%, yes. Maybe like a broadway or an operatic voice. Doesn’t sing much but I imagine it would sound really jolly if he was a jollier guy.

• Kenyatta - YES! Doesn’t sing because she thinks it’s ‘lame’ (she gives me massive ‘too cool for school’ vibes) but has a delightful and powerful singing voice (kinda like the wolf Porsha Crystal played by Halsey in Sing 2.)

• Nai’O - Yes absolutely. Got his talent from his dad! He’s very shy when put on the spot though, so he doesn’t sing in front of people often — mostly when he works in the field with his animals by himself.

• Najuma - Not at all! But it’s okay because Najuma has zero desire to, haha. Kid is happy to be tinkering!

• Reth - On god, YES. Man has a beautiful and casual singing voice with a little rasp around the edges. Sings to himself while he cooks or gets really focused on something. I’m thinking “Feelin’ Good” by Michael Bublé, but maybe bit more rough around the edges.

• Sifuu - Not much of a singer, but I know our Muscle Mommy definitely has a few war chants or something up her sleeve! Lady can keep a beat for sure.

• Tamala - Thinks she can, but makes it way too sultry. You heard me. There’s such a thing as too much!

• Tish - Yes! Absolutely. She seems like she would 100% have like a Mandy Moore or Kristen Bell vibe. Very Disney Princess-esque!

• Zeki - Okay, honestly I think yes — but not in a conventional way. Kind of like Ashura; I think he would be great at singing like traditional Grimalkin shanties or folk-songs. Not very practiced, but he’s got spirit!

OKAY FINALLY DONE! I plan to do a lot more of these! Let me know if you have any suggestions!

[pholla-jm]

True Beauty

IMAGINE: TRUE BEAUTY~ SANJI X SIREN!READER GENRE: FLUFF WARNINGS:NONE ***********************

As soon as Luffy heard that you were a siren, he had to have you on your crew.

Of course, you were left with no other choice but to join his crew. When Luffy asked, it really wasn't a question, it was a statement.

You were insecure though. No one knew what you really looked like and you wondered if some of the crewmates only talked to you because you because you looked like their deepest desire. 

So for each person in the crew, you looked completely different. Everyone thought you were beautiful, but you knew it wasn't their true opinion of you. It's what their brain made up. 

Because of this, you decided to spend most of your time by yourself. You always lost track of time when you were by yourself. So most of the time, one of the straw hat crew members had to get you when it was time to eat.  Sanji never let you miss a meal. 

You knew how Sanji could get around beautiful women. You could only wonder how you looked like to him. Whatever he made up in his mind, it had to be worthy of a queen. Someone worthy to win in a beauty pageant. 

There was a knock on the door. You didn't really pay attention to it though. You were distracted looking in the mirror. You could see your true reflection in the mirror.  You would get distracted running a comb through your hair, eyes intently watching what you were doing. 

"Mademoiselle lunch is-" Sanji starts but his voice slowly fades away when his eyes lands on you.  He could feel his heart skip a beat looking at your beauty. 

You were a bit confused as to why Sanji was here today. It was usually one of the other boys that grabbed you for when it was time for food.  However, you noticed that Sanji went quite. Putting the comb down, you turned to Sanji. 

"Is something wrong Sanji?"  "No! Nothing at all. I was just stunned by your beauty!" 

You could see the hearts in his eyes when he looked at you.  You shake your head, releasing a small chuckle.

"Is something the matter mademoiselle?" He asks and you just shake your head.  "No. Everything is fine."  "I cannot in my right mind let a lady go about her day when something is wrong." 

Letting out a small laugh, "oh Sanji. Can I ask you a question?"  Sanji now fully walks into the room, softly shutting the door behind him.  "Of course." 

"What do I look like to you?" 

Sanji doesn't really answer for a few seconds, and by the looks of it he was a little confused. So you continue on. 

"Well, I look different to everyone. Part of being a siren you know. I look like what a person most desires. So I just wonder, what I look like to you?" 

A small smile lifts up on his face. "You look like you of course."  You roll your eyes at his answer, "describe what I look like." 

Sanji then goes on to describe your features. You are quite surprised at what comes out of his mouth though. 

"You have the most beautiful hair. Your (h/c) hair is so soft." He whispers taking a strand of hair to feel it in between his fingers.  "I swear I could stare into your (e/c) eyes all day." 

He continues to describe every feature of you, all your imperfections that he had found beautiful. By the time he's done describing you like he requested, you had tears in your eyes. 

A small frown placed upon his face, "what's wrong Mon amour?"

Sanji had described exactly what you looked like. What you truly looked like.  You shook your head with a smile on your face, "nothing is wrong Sanji. I'm just really happy that someone can see me as who I really am."

Before Sanji can say anything else, you wrapped your arms around his body. Your head resting right below his shoulder. You can feel him tense a little bit, before he also wrapped his arms around you. 

It was oddly silent between the two of you, but you were okay with that. When you pulled back, you can see that there was a small trail of blood coming from his nose.

You wipe the blood with the edge of your sleeve, taking a mental note to change your shirt later.  "Thank you so much Sanji."  "Anything for you my dear." 

Still with a smile on your face, "I can't wait for lunch. I just know that it's going to be delicious."  You walk by him and out of your room. Sanji stood there for a couple of seconds, trying to calm down his racing heart. 

If only he had the courage to actually confess to you. To tell you that he was hopelessly in love with you. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 26

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: sunday bloody sunday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put 'more'. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It isn’t until you’re standing before the foot of Mr. Laufeyson’s bed in borrowed clothes that the epiphany flutters over you. You were so swept up in emotion that your brain couldn’t process the implications of your current situation. He expects you to sleep beside him. It’s oddly intimate and you suppose that is the intent, but you’re not used to that yet.

“Well, pet,” Mr. Laufeyson loosens his tie and pulls it from around his neck, “you do look rather tired.”

You refuse to look at him as he starts unhooking the buttons of his shirt. You hid in the bathroom to exchange your clothes but he’s brazenly undressing only feet away. You rush around the far side of the bed and fold back the blankets, nestling in and pulling them around your body. You gulp as you keep your back to him, his shadow looming in the lamplight.

The fabric rustles as he casually changes and you close your eyes, embarrassed at only the sight of his silhouette. He groans and you hear the soft pop of his stretching his arms. The lamp clicks and the bed dips behind you. Oh gosh.

You stiffen as he lifts the other side of the covers up and slides in next to you. You keep close to the edge. You almost prefer your lumpy single to this. As big as his bed is, it’s not enough. You feel as if he’s crowding you.

He sighs and the bed shifts. You flinch as you feel the fabric against your back stir. He hums and tugs along the hem.

“Relax, I’m just as tired, you needn’t hide from me,” he gives a forceful yank and you fall onto your back. “Tomorrow, we have much to sort out, so rest.”

You swallow and nod, letting out a shaky breath. You ease the tension in your eyelids and welcome the natural sheath of your fatigue. It doesn’t take much for the day to overwhelm your nerves. You drift off into a rippling black sleep, forgetting your tender bruises and aching heart.

In an instant, morning burns yellow through your eyelids. Your lashes flutter apart and you stare up at the ceiling, turning your head to peek at the body next to yours. Oh god. How could you forget?

You roll onto your side, balanced on the very edge of the mattress. Your mind races. What do you do? Is it rude to get up and start the day? Do you wait until he wakes? Then what happens? Your heart pounds behind your ears as your eyes go wide.

“Pet,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is hoarse as you feel his hand tickle the back of the shirt collar, “what are you doing all the way over there?” You freeze, hoping he will think you’re asleep. He exhales and pulls on the fabric between your shoulder blades, “don’t ignore me.”

His warning is enough for you to give up the act. You fall onto your back once more and fold your arms over the top of the blanket, clutching it as if the bed might swallow you up. He sidles closer and slides his arm out from under the covers, stretching it across you as he brings himself to his elbow.

“Morning,” he greets, his tone startlingly gentle. He doesn’t sound like himself. You look at him, eyes still round.

“Mor-ning,” you stutter out as he feels along the sleeve of the shirt. The way he looks at you makes you sweat. He should do that.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks.

You nod. 

“Very good,” he purrs as his hand trails up your neck, his thumb tracing the front of your throat. He watches the advance of his touch as he brings his hand beneath your chin. You tremble as he caresses along your jaw and you turn your head away. “Ah, ah, pet. You must get over that. There is no reason to be shy.”

“Please, I…” you rub your dry lips together, “I need to… get up.”

“In due time,” he stays as he is, gently dragging his fingertips along your bruised cheek, “I understand we both must adjust to this new arrangement.”

“Mr. Laufeyson…” you quiver.

“Mmm, yes, say it again, just like that.”

“Please,” you plead once more.

“Be still, be calm,” he coos as he frames your chin, “close your eyes.”

Your brows pop up and you blink frantically, “why?”

“Pet, you know better than to question me,” he squeezes enough for you to feel. You gulp and obey him, hiding behind your eyelids as he holds himself over you. “Very good,” he urges, his thumb brushing back and forth along your jaw, “just…” he rasps as you feel his breath fan over you, “let yourself relax.”

Your fingers curl tighter around the blankets and his lips meet yours. You squeak but don’t pull away. You can’t. You’re paralysed by that act alone. His mouth moves against yours as he tickles your neck. He parts and hovers and inch away.

“I said relax,” he pecks your cheek, “it is better that way.”

He trails his lips back to you and tries again. This time, you do your best to release the tension in your jaw. As he pokes his tongue out, your mouth opens just enough for him to delve deeper. You push away all the thoughts pulsing in your head. Don’t think too much, if you do, that means it’s real.

He hums into your mouth as he forces your mouth wider, tilting his head as he devours you. You’re not ready for this. You’re not ready for him. You’re barely awake and he’s already all over you. 

You shudder and let out a whimper. You can’t help but note it’s your first true kiss. Your only. Like everything else in your life, it’s not what you expected. But it isn’t unpleasant.

His hand wanders down your neck and past the collar of your shirt. He feels along a crease in the fabric and gropes your chest. You spasm and catch his head, ripping your lips away as you turn your head sharply.

“I can’t–” you puff, “I can’t breathe.”

“Pet,” he sounds amused, even as you bend his fingers slightly back, “you breathe through your nose.”

“I…” you begin. No, you don’t know. How would you? You just look at him, waiting for him to start again.

“Yes, I suppose we should take it slow,” he relents and rolls away from you. He bends his leg under the blanket so it tents around his knee, “go on, have a shower. There is a long day ahead.”

You cautiously push yourself up and avoid looking at him as you slip out from under the blankets. Your lips feel fuzzy from his kiss and your chest tingles where he grabbed you. It’s new and scary but you can’t make yourself hate it. It’s just confusing.

You go out into the hall and fetch a towel from the linen closet. You return. Mr. Laufeyson hasn’t moved. You pass by, focusing ahead, and enter the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and hug the towel.

You face the mirror and look your reflection in your eye. A scalding heat washes over you. It hurts then. It stabs deep into your heart to know what you’ve become. 

In that moment, the truth slaps you around the face. You will let Mr. Laufeyson do whatever he wants. What you want doesn't matter. That’s the deal. That’s how you survive.

You place the towel on the counter and face the shower. The booth is embedded into the wall with a glass door. You’ve only ever been inside to clean it but you always thought it was fancy. You undress numbly, skin prickling with the cool early air. 

You approach the shower and carefully open the door. You step inside and pull it shut. You twist the golden crank and the large shower head above thrums to live. You squeak as the water spatters frigidly on you then slowly warms. You step out of it’s breadth as it turns scalding. You adjust the faucet until you can bear the downpour.

You wash methodically, like you do at home. Your dad always complained when you wasted water. You don’t have your own things so you use what’s there; the soap smells like Mr. Laufeyson. You force away the thought. You just need to be clean.

The water and your own diligent scrubbing sparks tenderness in your bruises. You turn your face up and let the water pour over you. You blindly reach to twist the water off and stand in the still, cold silence.

You let yourself out along with a puff of steam. You grab the towel and dry off as best you can. You bend to gather the borrowed clothes and realise your own are still in the bedroom. You look down at the towel and pull it tight. You have no choice but to go out there. Like this.

You pad to the door and cautiously unlock it. You listen through the wood but can’t hear much. You turn the handle and inch the door from the frame. Mr. Laufeyson sits on the bed, a stunning sight as he wears only a pair of satiny pajama bottoms. You gulp and turn your head down.

You march out and hurry towards the other side of the room. You grab the same clothes you wore the day before and turn back. As you go back to the bathroom, he rises and meets you at the door.

“Ah, what’s the rush, pet?” His fingers flutter over the top of the towel.

“I forgot…” you murmur, hugging the clothes in one arm.

“Your rags?” He reaches to pinch the fabric of your worn clothing, “as I said, we will assuage that shortly.”

“Mr. Layfeyson,” you wilt, staring beside him at the wall, “can I…”

He snickers as he trails up your arm, raising a new speckling of goosebump. He leans in and takes a deep breath. He hums.

“I like it when you smell like me,” he purrs lowly as his hand walks over your shoulder to your neck. 

His other comes to the other side and he forces your head up. You blink at him as he looms before you. He holds your vulnerability in the palms of your hands. There is only a towel to stop him. You can’t help but notice the corded sculpt of his muscles, the strength of his grip on you.

He bends and kisses your lips. You keep from recoiling, reminding yourself that you have to let him. If he wants to strip you down and do what he wishes, you must allow it. Even as you repeat it, over and over, it doesn’t feel right.

His hand slips back down your shoulder and he hooks an arm around you, pulling you flush as his tongue dips into your mouth. You babble around the intrusion, helpless as you clutch your towel and clothing tight. His other hand comes up behind your head as he deepens his kiss.

He’s breathless when he finally pulls away. So are you. He lingers only an inch away, his green eyes smoky. He slowly uncoils himself from around you and holds you at arm's length. He inhales deeply and shivers it out.

“Go,” he rasps as he retracts his grasp, “before…” He shakes his head as he sidesteps you, leaving his warning unfinished.

You flit into the bathroom and nearly slam the door behind you. Your clothes slip out of your arm to the floor and press yourself against the wood, quivering as your heart thumps. If this is just the morning, you don’t know if you’ll make it through the day.

✨

You fidget in the chair, nearly knocking the tea cup with your elbow. You can’t be still as you stare over at the French doors. Mr. Laufeyson doesn’t have the same problem as he sits stoically, one leg hooked over the other as he props an elbow on the armrest, his phone in his hand as he squints at the screen.

The chair lurches with your next twitch and grabs the table for stability. His eyes flick over and narrow on you. He tilts his head.

“Would you be still? You will break something, or even yourself.”

Your eyes round and you nod, locking your hands together in your lap. You bite down and look again at the house. This is odd. With Frigga there, it didn’t feel so strange, but just you and him. On a Monday?

“What is it?” He asks with exasperation.

“I should be cleaning,” you declare, “it’s Monday.”

He sighs out through his nose into a soft chuckle, “is that what has you so worked up?”

“Well…” you shrug almost to your ears.

“I told you, we have other things to sort out first,” he raises a finger, “you will get to it, I assure you.”

You purse your lips. There’s a tone in his voice you dislike. He isn’t being overly venomous but he’s talking down to you. Not as he did before, like a boss to an employee, but more pandering.

“I could just start now until–”

The gate bell buzzes from inside, muffled by the walls but loud enough to hear. Mr. Laufeyson sits up and uncrosses his top leg. He wiggles his phone in his hand and stands, tucking it into his pocket. As the weather grows hotter, you notice he does not wear a jacket with his button-up and tie.

He gets up without explanation and leaves you. As he passes through the French doors, you hop to your feet to follow. You should answer the gate. That’s still your job, right?

You rush in after him, kicking off your shoes before you plunge inside. You slow so you don’t step on his heels.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you scurry along, “what’s going on?”

“You ask many questions,” he reprimands.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mmm, you recall the rules, yes?”

You nod and don’t say a word. Back to silence. He goes out the back door and you stop at the threshold. You watch as he struts down the walk and breezily approaches the gate, pressing the switch to reel it open. A large box van enters as Laufeyson turns back to meet them at the apex of the drive.

You hear the drone of his voice as he speaks to the woman inside, just through the open window. You can’t make out his words. He opens the door for her as she steps out, surprising you with her pure white jumpsuit, almost skin tight and snakeskin heels. You don’t expect someone like that to be driving such a clumsy vehicle.

Laufeyson steps past to let her past then follows her to the rear of the van. They chatter some more before opening the doors. He nods towards the house and her gaze follows the gesture. She glances at him boldly and her deep laughter ripples in the air.

He steps up into the van and there’s a clatter within. She reaches to assist him in unloading the contents. A large clothing rack slung with dozens of garments on hangers. They steady it on its wheels and he hops out, tidying his mussed hair.

He shuts the door as she angles the rack around the end of the truck. She comes to the front and pulls as he catches up and pushes from behind. The woman’s high black pony sways with her gait. She smirks as she sees you peeking out.

“Ah, you must be the one,” she greets as she leaves Laufeyson with the rack at the foot of the steps. “Come out, darling, don’t be shy.”

“It’s alright,” Laufeyson assures.

You let the door fall open completely and step out onto the porch. She looks you up and down and peers back at the garments.

“Oh, they should fit,” she proclaims and turns to you again, “don’t be shy, darling. What is your name?”

You blink and peek at Mr. Laufeyson. You answer as she watches you. Her eyes are a deep, drowning blue.

“How sweet. I’m Hela,” she introduces herself, “when my little brother asked for my help, I wasn’t exactly jumping to drive all the way down here, but alas, he said he had someone in need, and could I help a little bunny like yourself.”

Little brother? That’s his sister? You look at Mr. Laufeyson again and he clears his throat.

“Hel,” he says tersely, gripping the pole of the rack, “a little assistance.”

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 14

Pairing: Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, reader is referred to by her stage name of Angel, reader is an exotic dancer, pet names, everybody has secrets, reader is insecure and self deprecating (especially in this one), dominant mob boss Bucky, submissive reader, sir/daddy kink, slight bratting, scolding, spanking, color system and safe word in place- yellow used, angst, tears, teasing, edging, oral (f receiving), nipple play, p in v, slight marking, aftercare.

A/N- this one is just straight up porn. The next one advances the plot, I promise. But I do hope you enjoy this dirty little chapter ;D.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NS/FW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated.

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

"I believe someone needs to be punished."

Your veins ran cold at his words. When Bucky told you he was going to punish you, you were IN for it. You swallowed hard as you watched his gorgeously sculpted features quietly and artfully rearrange themselves into your Dominant Daddy. Your Powerful, Dominant Daddy. Your Powerful, Dominant, Very Angry Daddy. Aw, fuck.

He locked his gaze on you. His normally warm and ocean blue eyes had turned to deadly ice, but his composure was completely calm and collected. You weren't fooled. That look was dangerous. It didn't take much to imagine how he had climbed the ranks in the criminal world when he had mastered that look.

He slowly took off the black Armani suit jacket he was wearing, his eyes still boring into yours. "How's the soundproofing in this apartment?" he asked casually, as if he was asking about the weather. He folded the jacket neatly, moving his gaze from you for two seconds to see where he could put it. When he realized that he was arm's length from both a kitchen chair and the living room sofa at the same time, you saw a flicker of consternation pass over his face. You just knew he was inwardly sneering at your tiny apartment, and as nervous as you were for what you had coming, it still set off a tiny spark in you that your idiot brain jumped at.

"Why? You gonna shoot me and get your boys to hide the body?" you asked sassily. Bucky's eyes slid back over to you instantly. And narrowed even more.

Bad move. OH very bad move. Shit.

His furious steel eyes locked back on you, he draped his fitted and folded jacket over the back of the kitchen chair. "Answer my question, Angel," he said in that calm, deadly voice of his. He was done fucking around and you knew it.

You tried not to make your gulp incredibly obvious. "Um, well," you stammered, any trace of the brat completely gone. "It's....I can sometimes hear my neighbors if they're fighting. But that's usually it," you murmured, knowing it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference.

"Well, then I guess you're going to have to keep quiet, aren't you?" Bucky said silkily. He walked past you slowly. As he did, he raised his right hand, and snapped the wrist cuff button on his crisp white shirt open. A shiver went through your entire body. He continued to hold your gaze, ever-so-slowly rolling up the right sleeve of his shirt as he sat himself down on your minuscule couch. "Come here," he commanded softly, before opening his left wrist cuff.

"Daddy, I'm really sorry I-"

"NOW."

You scurried into place in front of him, between his wide spread legs, watching him roll the sleeve of his metal arm up. FUCK. You were about to get the tanning of your life. You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry as all the wetness in your body flooded in between your legs. "Sorry, Daddy," you said, watching him turn the final fold on his sleeve. He said nothing, but waited for you to turn your gaze back to him. You did with a slight whimper.

"None of that," he said sternly. "You will not utter a single word tonight unless I give you permission to, or ask you a question. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Glad you're finally starting to listen. Now turn to your right."

You did as you were told, your left hip now facing him, hating it when he dragged it out like this. He knew you hated it, which is exactly why he did it when you were being punished. But his next command was unexpected.

"Put your hands on your thighs and keep them there."

Odd. He usually made you bend over his knee for a spanking. You risked turning your head a bit to see what he was up to, and found him smirking mockingly at you.

"Can't keep your eyes off Daddy, hmm? That's fine baby. I can't keep my eyes off you either. But that was the problem tonight, wasn't it? You not staying under Daddy's watch. Tsk, tsk, tsk." And with that, he delivered a hard slap to your ass with his right hand. You bit down on the sudden cry that wanted to escape your lips at the pain blossoming across your backside. Your head snapped forward as you inhaled sharply.

Before you could recover, Bucky reached up and ran his metal fingers over your still clothed clit. He began slowly dragging them back and forth between your legs, his eyes watching your face as you began dancing on that line between pain and pleasure. You choked on the moan of desire, doing your best to be quiet as he commanded. Just when it started feeling really good, Bucky spanked you so fast and so hard it made tears spring to your eyes, as he held you in place with his left hand.

"That's right, little girl. Gonna blister that pretty little bottom of yours real good tonight. And I've already arranged for you to have the day off tomorrow so no one will see that gorgeous bruised butt...except me."

You couldn't help it- you turned back to him in disbelief. You hated it when he interfered with your work and he knew it. That tiny idiot part of your brain took control again as your gaze challenged him.

Even BIGGER mistake than before. Oopsie, oopsie, BIG oopsie.

The metal fingers immediately stopped rubbing. Bucky put his huge right hand on your ass, right where you were sure there was already a handprint. "You got something to say little girl?" he said in that deadly tone.

Finally coming to your senses, you shook your head, rocking from foot to foot in your nervous state. "N-no, sir," you whispered, dropping your gaze abashedly to his lap. You definitely saw something twitch in the front of his pants when you said that.

"That's better," he said in that arrogant way he had. You gritted your teeth, expecting another spank, but instead, he withdrew both hands. "Pull your pants down to your knees."

Biting your lip, you did as he told you to. Your insides clenched as you straightened back up. Somehow, standing up and to the side of your Dom with your bare bottom out on display, just waiting to be spanked, was more humiliating that being over his knee. And far less intimate. It started to sink in when you realized that. The lack of intimacy right now showed you how upset he felt at your unsafe choice. You started to truly understand how much you'd disappointed him by not staying put.

Bucky's metal fingers resumed their previous position between your legs. You gasped as the coolness of the metal reacted with the heat of your folds. You were never more aware of your arousal than when Bucky's metal fingers were down there, slipping and sliding, spreading it all around. Without warning, he delivered another three searing spanks to your now exposed butt, making you gasp and try desperately to keep quiet.

"What did I tell you about staying put, hm?" SPANK. "About doing what you're told? Didn't I tell you..." SPANK SPANK SPANK. "...how important it was to me that you were safe?" SPANK SPANK. "About how I don't-" SPANK "-like-" SPANK "-being-" SPANK "-without you?" SPANK SPANK SPANK. "Do you know what could have happened to you?" SPANK. "And do you know if something had happened to you-" SPANK SPANK. "-that it would have killed me?" SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK.

By this time, it was all you could do to keep your sobs silent. The complete realization of his disappointment in you had smacked you harder than he ever could. He loved you, he cared about you, and he really hadn't asked for anything unreasonable. Besides, he was right- anything could have happened. You remembered the man cat calling, and a sudden prickle of fear of what could have happened sent you over the edge. The tears were coursing down your face, and you let out the tiniest involuntary whimper.

Bucky had been waiting for that. He knew that you had felt bad, but it wasn't until the dam burst that he knew you truly understood the lesson he was trying to teach you. When he saw your tears, his heart twisted. His right palm went from a rock-hard flat paddle to gently stroking your sore, ruby-red bottom. His left hand never stopped gently rubbing your clit.

"There's my good girl," he said soothingly, which made you start to cry even harder, unable to stay quiet. Finally taking pity on you, Bucky pulled you into his lap, taking care to make sure your backside was between his legs so he could continue stroking it to calm the punished flesh. "Shhh, baby, you did so good for me. So good. There's my pretty girl. There's my good girl. You can cry, it's okay. Daddy's got you."

You wound your arms around his neck and buried your face. "I'm...I'm so-sorry...." you sobbed, knowing that he hadn't given you permission to speak yet but desperately needing to say it.

Bucky held you tight and continued rubbing your bottom. "I know you are, baby. I know. And you took that part of your punishment so well. I'm very proud of you. But you know that it's not over, right?" He tilted his head a bit to look you in the eye. You nodded miserably. "What's your color?"

The two of you used the color system- green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for stop. You also had a safe word, just in case, and hand signals if you were unable to speak or went non-verbal. Bucky took good care of you, no matter what the circumstances. Even if you had done the most horrible things and you were getting the punishment you very rightly deserved, he would always check on your colors. He abhorred the idea of pushing you past your limits, not that he didn't mind getting right up to the line, and so would always, always check in with you. And that realization, that you had made someone who loved you enough to check in with you so disappointed, made you feel like the lowest worm.

"I'm green, Sir," you said in a tiny voice. Bucky's eyes narrowed in thought at your tone. There was something wrong and you weren't telling him. His tone shifted back to the warmth that it usually had only for you.

"Are you sure, baby?"

"Yes, sir."

"Baby..." Bucky hesitated, but then decided to just go for it. "You're trying to push into the next part before you're ready. Why?"

"I need my punishment so I won't disappoint you anymore. I hate...that I've disappointed you and I won't do it again, so please punish me for being a stupid little shit."

Bucky's heart broke. Here he was again, up against your self-loathing. If it took the rest of his life, he was going to make you understand that you were loved and deserved to be loved, no matter what happened. "You are not a stupid little shit," he whispered to you as he cradled you into his chest. "You are my Angel. My light and my love. You made a bad choice, but that is not all you are. You hear me?

You sniffed in a very unladylike way and gave a half hearted nod. You wanted to believe his words with all your heart, but it was so hard...

"Baby, I want you to focus on your mind for a moment. I'll ask you for your color again soon, but right now, I'm at a yellow, okay? I can't see you hurting yourself like this. I want to make sure you're okay."

You leaned away from him, surprised. "You...you..." you stammered, unable to even put together a sentence in your shock that he gave you a yellow because he was worried about you.

Bucky smiled that soft smile that made your heart melt. He brushed the hair away from your face, and you caught the scent of your arousal on his fingers. "I told you, it's my job to take care of you. Inside and out. And I know that you are sorry for what you did." His smile widened a bit sadly as he saw the look of shock on your face. "Go ahead and tell Daddy what you're really feeling, Angel."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I really am, Daddy, I'm so sorry..." you blabbered, before diving back into the crook of his neck and crying softly all over again. He gently kissed your forehead.

"I know Baby. So now you've gotta forgive yourself too, you hear me?"

"But you said my punishment wasn't over. Doesn't that mean...that you don't forgive me? Why should I forgive myself?" you mumbled, unable to look up.

"Ah, I see," Bucky said. "Poor choice of words on my part. You do like to keep me on my toes, don't you pretty girl?" He chuckled, but when you didn't respond, he simply laid his cheek back down on the top of your head. "Let's say the next part isn't a punishment, then. Let's say it's...a deterrent."

"A deterrent?"

"So you never, ever, walk down the streets of New York alone late at night anymore. You've taken your punishment for doing it- now I want to give you something to think about if you're ever tempted to do it again."

"How is that not a punishment?"

"Well, you just might enjoy it."

"Enjoy it how?"

"Daddy can't give away all his secrets up front, now can he?" Bucky said, that hint of mischief sneaking into his voice. A rush of endorphins flooded your system at hearing that tone. It was a siren's call to take another hit of the drug known as Bucky Barnes. My god it was divine, heavenly, even in the midst of your emotional chaos. "So because I don't think you're going to believe me until I say this....I forgive you."

He straight up snorted at you when you sat back this time, your jaw on the floor. You looked so cute and sweet, he couldn't help himself. "You...you do?" you stammered in disbelief.

"I do."

You could do nothing but stare for a moment. You unwound your arms from his neck, placing your hands on either side of his face. "I truly am so sorry, Bucky," you whispered, your eyes brimming with tears as you held his gaze. "I didn't mean to make you worry or stress. I just....it's still new, for someone to...." you trailed off.

"For someone to take care of you," Bucky finished gently, before giving you a wide, shit-eating grin. "Well, get used to it, woman." A giggle suddenly burst forth, breaking the tension and heartache. Bucky pulled you to him again, pressing his warm lips to yours, offering you a benediction. As you did earlier today -or was it yesterday as it was well past midnight?- you got lost in his kiss, your heart relaxing, knowing that you had his forgiveness.

Eventually, Bucky broke the kiss. "Color?" he asked sweetly.

"Green, Daddy," you said, giving him a genuine smile this time.

He grinned wickedly. "Excellent." He immediately stood up, holding you in his arms, and marched in the direction of your bedroom. As the place was tiny, it was pretty obvious which direction to go in, and before you could do more then squeak in surprise, you were back on your feet by your bed. You'd lost the sleep shorts that had been bunched around your ankles by this time somewhere back in the hallway. Bucky leaned forward, looking you dead in the eye again. The Ice Monster was gone from his gaze, but now the Devil himself had taken his place.

"Now for this next part," Bucky said in that silky, low tone of his. "I'm going to see just how well you do at staying put." A tiny part of you prayed that meant he wasn't going to spank you anymore, as your ass was still on fire, but those words still sent a thrill up your spine. He reached down at the hem of your teeshirt and pulled it over your head. He held your hands, but took a step back to admire your body. It always made you blush a little when he did this, but you tried to hold it together for his sake. "Turn around," he said, that evil grin in his voice again. Suppressing your urge to roll your eyes, you turned and gave him exactly what you knew he wanted.

Bucky's greedy hands trailed down your back, until he gently squeezed your still sore bottom. "Nice and warm, just like I like it," he purred in your ear, before spinning you back around. He locked eyes with you and began slowly unbuttoning his white shirt. You didn't notice the smug grin on his face as you were breathless just watching him undress. He finally shrugged it off, and made short work of his white undershirt as well. You desperately wanted to run your hands over his muscular chest and abs, but he hadn't given you permission to do so.

"Good girl," he said in a husky voice, noting your restraint. How the hell did he always know what you were thinking? "Good girl not touching until you're told to. But...I do think that I'll need some help...with these." His palm slowly grazed over his zipper, where you could clearly see the outline of his erection. Without missing a beat you unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and slid the zipper down, trying to go slowly but needing him so bad it was anything but slow. He chuckled as he toed off his shoes. "On your knees," he said softly. You knelt down, slowly pulling his pants down as you did so. He carefully stepped out of them with your assistance.

You looked up at him, biting your lip, praying that he was going to let you take him in your mouth. He only smirked at you. "Socks, baby," he said. You quickly peeled his socks off, then went back to your Bambi eyes. He chuckled again- god you loved when he softly laughed in these intimate moments- clad only in his tight black undershorts. "Up you go," he ordered.

Fighting the urge to pout, you remembered that you still had a lesson to learn, and so you obeyed instantly, looking up at him demurely. Bucky put a hand behind your head and one around your waist, and pulled you in for a heated, searing kiss. You wrapped your arms around him as he carefully navigated the two of you to the bed, laying you down gently. He stepped back, and while keeping eye contact with you, removed his boxer briefs. He reached down, wrapping his right hand around his cock, giving you a good show.

"Now, let's see if my girl can stay where she's put," he said, slowly stroking himself as he walked back towards the foot of the bed.

"Yes, sir," you said, breathless with anticipation, your mouth dry. You spread your legs, hoping....

"Bend your knees and hold them underneath with your hands," Bucky ordered you, still stroking his painfully hard cock, watching your every move. You did as he said. "Now spread your knees apart."

You obeyed, and a delicious moan escaped his lips, seeing your gorgeous pussy spread just for him. Bucky put one knee on the bed and leaned over you, bracing himself on his left hand as he used his right to stroke your slit with his cock, teasing you. You threw your head back, crying out already at his sensual touch.

"Now," he said in that soft, dominant tone that made your insides turn to liquid. "Don't remove your hands. You keep them in place. Hold your knees and keep yourself splayed out, just like this. Don't let go. Don't move. No begging for anything, no matter what. Make all the noise you want, but no begging. If you can do that for me, if you can stay put in this position that I put you in until I'm done having my fun, I'll let you cum. Understand?"

"Yes, sir, yes I understand!"

"Good."

And then he began the most delicious torture of your life. You gasped and moaned, making noises that you were sure had never escaped your lips before, as Bucky oh-so-slowly teased you to the point of collapse. He kissed your soaking core, letting his tongue continue what his fingers had started earlier, sucking hard on your clit. He dragged the tip of his erection all over your folds, but never placed it where you desperately wanted it to go. He let his hands roam over your bent legs, your torso, your neck, your arms. He suckled and nipped at your breasts for a good ten minutes, which nearly drove you insane. But you didn't beg and you didn't let go. You were determined to be his good girl, no matter how close to the edge you were.

You lost track of time, completely awash in the sensations and sounds that the both of you were making, and so when Bucky finally, FINALLY slid into you suddenly, you gasped and arched your back so violently you nearly bucked off the mattress. You were so wet he hadn't even needed to use lube, and the stretch burned but also felt unbelievable. He wrapped his hands around your thighs, using your bent legs to make his thrusts snap even harder. The grunts and growls of pleasure he was making as he watched the sensations begin to overtake you were almost enough to make you cum on the spot.

"You're gonna stay put from now on when I tell you to, right?" Bucky asked, his voice strained as he pumped into you, before giving you a good smack on your right butt cheek.

"Yes, sir!! Yes, Daddy, I'll be good!" you gasped as the glorious burn reignited from your spanking. The mix of pleasure and pain fucked with your brain in the absolute best way, crashing through your brain and body like a flood.

"You swear it?" he asked, his voice tightening as he picked up the pace a bit, then gave you a matching swat on your left.

"Oh god yes, I swear, I promise, I swear!" you wailed, not giving a shit if your bedroom was truly soundproofed or not.

"Gonna be Daddy's good girl?"

"So good, so good for you Daddy!"

"Only for Daddy?"

"Only for you, Daddy! Only for you!"

"Good girl. Cum for Daddy," Bucky ordered, before his thrusts became frantic, and he growled as his own release built. That last growl completely sent you over the edge. The orgasm went on and on as he fucked you until he came, giving another feral cry as he poured himself into you.

As you both came down, the pain of the position that you were in began creeping into your body. Before you even realized that you had let out a tiny whimper, Bucky reached under your knees, sliding his fingers between your hands and your legs, breaking the death grip you hand on them.

"Go ahead, you can let go now," he purred, still catching his own breath. "Did so good for me, baby, so damn good." He quickly laid your hands down on either side of you, using his torso to help brace your still bent legs. Oh so carefully, he put his hands under your knees and slowly stretched your legs down and out. Once your legs were flat against the bed, he slowly began massaging your thighs, working out the burn and the soreness from keeping them bent and aloft so long. All the while, he kept murmuring to you how good you were for him, how beautiful, and how proud he was of you. The moment you could actually verbally respond to say 'Thank you Daddy', he had leaned down and kissed you on the lips.

"Gonna go get a washcloth and some lotion. I'll be right back, okay?" He grinned as you nodded and hummed happily. He raided your tiny bathroom, growling quietly to himself as he could barely fit in there and open your cabinet door at the same time. Oh, he was gonna get you to move in with him sooner rather than later, fuck this shit....

Bucky quickly shook off the thought, anxious to get back to you, and gathered the items he needed. As he stepped back into the bedroom, he noticed you were drinking water from a bottle beside your bed. He frowned a bit. "How long has that been there?" he said, laying down beside you with the warm, wet washcloth in his hand.

You shrugged, but immediately removed it from your lips. "Since I was here last," you answered. "Water doesn't go bad. It's fine. Here, you need to drink too." You held it out to him.

Bucky smiled as he began gently wiping between your still sensitive legs. "I'll get some in a moment, love," he said, focusing on his work. "You're my priority right now."

"But..." was all you said. He was about to scold you again for talking back, but as his eyes landed on your face, all he saw was care and compassion. And love. For him. No one ever looked at him that way. No one but you. "Please?" you added. And he was toast.

He gave you that shy smile that you rarely saw, and tilted his chin up to you in permission. The delighted smile that broke across your face made him feel like the best man on earth. You held the bottle to his lips and carefully tilted the water into his mouth, watching him to make sure he was drinking and not just placating you. When he broke away, he smiled down on you again.

"Thank you, my sweet angel. Now you finish the rest of that and let Daddy finish his work."

"Yes, sir," you said, exhausted and happy. You drained the bottle in small sips while Bucky finished cleaning you up, before quickly cleaning himself. He made you take two Advil and left only briefly to toss the washcloth into the sink, and was back next to you in a flash.

"Well, one thing I can say for how tiny this place is. I can get back to you quickly after stuff like that. Although, if it's in MY place, I don't give a shit about making a mess in the first place sooooooo...." he let that hang in the air, puckering his lips and making an exaggerated face, which caused you to giggle.

Using your mirth as a distraction, he quickly reached under you and flipped you over. The first time he had done this, it had scared the shit out of you, but now you were so used to him tossing you about like a rag doll during aftercare that you didn't do anything other than squeak in mild surprise.

Bucky took his time rubbing lotion into your still ruby red cheeks, and carefully applied Neosporin behind your knees, where, unbeknownst to you, you had nail indentations from where you'd dug your fingers in, trying so hard to be so good. He gently kissed each one of them, treasuring each red mark that you had given yourself to please him, before rubbing in the ointment, and continuing to massage to make sure that you were okay. Once he was sure it was all absorbed into your skin, he kissed your shoulder blade before flipping you back over. You giggled this time in response.

"Do you need anything else, baby?" he asked softly, unable to take his eyes from your gorgeous face.

"Just you," you whispered, reaching out for him. Bucky gladly obliged. He pulled you into his arms, scooting you both up so his head was on the pillow, and yours was on his chest. He began drawing slow lines all over your skin with a feather light touch, just like he knew you liked.

"I'm all yours," he whispered into your hair, and smiled as he felt you kiss his chest.

Chapter 15

[the-merry-otter]

How To Make Medieval Fabric Buttons

You will need:

• fabric (I’m using a medium weight wool)

• a sewing needle

• cotton or silk thread (it MUST be strong)

• a thimble

• dressmakers pins

Using this style of button as a fastening technique was very prevalent in 14th century Europe, on both men’s and women’s clothing. It was used for anything from sleeves and openings on the front of garments, to the iconic liripipe hoods (which is what these are gonna be for!).

They were usually made out of leftover fabric from the same material that was used for the garment they were intended for. As well as using every scrap of material possible, they also save you from having to buy metal buttons, which… aren’t cheap (both now and then).

The trade off is of course having to make them, which can be a painful process (literally - try not to get stabbed by the hedgehog ball at step 4!!). I thoroughly recommend a thimble to push the needle through as you form the ball - this is hard enough without having to pull it through.

Making buttons in my experience is 10% knowledge, 60% spite, and 30% hatred. It is a contest of wills between you (who wants a button) and the fabric (who doesn’t want to be a button). I wish you luck soldier.

To start with, cut a circle out of your fabric. How big will depend on what fabric you use - if it’s linen, you’d cut a larger circle than you would for wool. Mine is about 30mm.

Using a long long thread, bind on and then sew running stitches around the outside, about 5mm from the edge (may vary with fabric).

Pull this thread tight like a pouch, and turn the raw edges inwards in one direction. Try and tuck them inside the “bag” section. It will likely be more of a squashed oval at this point than a sphere.

Now, get your dressmakers pins and go absolutely ham. Continue to squish it “inward” (towards where the opening was) as you pin. The button should now resemble a very unfriendly little creature now (good luck with not getting stabbed, it can be a bit of a prick).

Next, basically use your needle to try and get it to stay in that shape. I usually do a bunch of stitches around the edge of the “back” end, and then spend some time criss-crossing the back. Try and put your needle in close to where it came out, so that you don’t get long pieces of visible thread.

Once you are confident that it will hold A Shape ™ (but also isn’t so stabbed that you can’t refine it further!), remove the pins. Your button will most likely resemble a little tiny messy wool brain at this point, but that’s ok!

The next step is to use your needle and thread to continue tucking the ball inwards to the centre of where the opening was. Above illustrates how I’ll flip the open part of a fold inward, by coming up through the fold and then levering it downwards so it gets tucked away. You can also just use the thread to pull errant folds inwards. Use the hand holding the button to squash it into form, and then sew it into place.

Once the button is actually a ball shape, crisscross the back of it a bit so that everything is firmly held in place. It should now (all things going well!!) actually be a sphere.

Once you’re happy with the shape and firmness, take your thread to stem out of the centre back. Bind off, and then slide the needle off the thread, leaving the long end. This can then be used to sew the button onto the garment.

The back will still be somewhat messy, but the front should be smooth, and the whole shape roughly spherical. When the button is sewn on using the remainder of the thread, you won’t be able to see the back!

I wrap the remainder of the thread around the finished button so it won’t get tangled, and then pop it in a jar with the rest while it waits to be sewn onto the garment.

Good luck with your crafting! Feel free to ask any questions in the notes, or straight into my inbox :)

[magnoliataylorr]

William Afton NonCon

It was a late, Friday afternoon, and you and your dad were expecting his old friend, William Afton, to show up to the house at any moment now. 

Your dad told you that William was having troubles with his wife, and that he needed a place to stay for the weekend. And since you remember William being one of the sweetest, funniest guys you had ever met when you were just a kid, you were happy to make him feel at home. 

But you hadn’t seen him in years, so a part of you was a little nervous too. 

It wasn’t long before you heard a knock on the door from your room. It was getting dark, so you were just lounging around in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. You decided to change just to look a little more presentable, putting on a pair of low rise carpenter jeans and a fitted, off the shoulder long sleeve. A little sliver of your mid-drift was exposed but your outfit was still fairly modest. 

As you emerged from upstairs, you saw him. Tall and thin, William stood at at least 6’3, basically towering over your dad. His hair was dark and perfectly styled, he even snaked a few fingers through it as he spoke to your dad. 

You stopped in your tracks, taking in his appearance. You had never noticed how attractive he was. It intimidated you. 

“Oh, here she is!” Your dad chirped. William turned around so you could now see his face. Wow. His jawline was sharp, almost as if it could cut glass, and his cheekbones were high. His nose was straight and defined, and his eyebrows were thick and low, almost menacing. His silver eyes bored into yours as he stared at you, before flashing a charming smile that sent butterflies swimming in your stomach. 

“Well, look at you,” he said, his voice calm and collected, “You’re all grown up now!” 

You laughed nervously, intimidated by his appearance. “Hi Mr. Afton!” You finally managed to spit out words. 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nonsense,” he teased, “Call me William.” 

“O-Okay William!” You exclaimed, gulping. You hated yourself for being attracted to a man so much older than you, but how couldn’t you be? 

“I was just telling William that we’re about to eat dinner,” your dad said, “You feel like ordering in?” He asked. 

You shrugged. “Sure, anything sounds good,” you answer. You felt William eyes still burning holes into you. You couldn’t lie to yourself — It made you a little uncomfortable. 

Your dad ended up ordering some Chinese food, a classic that you and your dad order quite frequently, and soon headed to the bathroom, leaving you and William alone in the kitchen. 

“So, tell me, what does a girl like you do for fun?” William asked you, leaning over the island counter, eyes piercing through your soul. 

Your heart raced. Something about him made you extremely nervous. “Uhm, well,” you started, racking your brain, “I like to play soccer, I play varsity at my school.” 

William smirked. “Varsity, huh? How old are you now, anyway?” 

“I just turned seventeen,” you answered. 

“Huh,” William huffed, looking you up and down. It made your body shiver in discomfort. Whether it was his smug look or attractive appearance or even both, something about William made you extremely on edge. “You look much older than seventeen,” he chuckled. “You must have all the boys at school fighting for your attention, hm?” 

You blushed, looking down with an awkward laugh. “No,” you mumbled. 

“Oh, really?” He questioned, his expression still smug, “No boyfriend?”

You shook your head, feeling humiliated. Was he trying to embarrass you? William opened his mouth to say something else, but quickly stopped himself when your dad walked in. 

“So, William, what’s new? Haven’t seen you in what feels like years!” Your dad said. 

William and your dad began talking, and you figured you could leave them alone until dinner came. As you retreated from the kitchen, William’s eyes locked with yours, and he gave you a small smirk before looking back at your dad and continuing their conversation. 

You went back up to your room and quickly put on a sweatshirt. The way William was looking at you made you feel like you were basically naked. You figured that most of his time here you would either spend in your room or outside the house. Even though you were wildly attracted to William, he somehow managed to make you feel very unsafe. 

It was only a matter of time before the food showed up. Your went back downstairs and made yourself a plate, attempting to go back up to your room. But your dad insisted you stay. 

“Don’t be rude,” he told you, “We have a guest.” 

You paused, looking over at William who smirked at you. You forced a smile and gulped, sitting down next to your dad and across from William. 

The three of you made conversation, and you tried your best to ignore William’s stares. He brushed his foot up against your calf a few times, but you chose to ignore that too. You quickly finished your food and asked to be excused to finish your homework, even though you had already finished it earlier. 

Your dad excused you and you went back up to your room. You chilled in there for a little bit before taking a shower and changing into your pajamas. Usually it got very hot in your room at night, so your pjs were very exposing. But it didn’t matter to you, you were only sleeping anyway. 

A few hours passed until you finally fell asleep. But right downstairs, William was still wide awake. Your dad had gone to bed earlier too, but William couldn’t stop thinking about you. He had already gone to the bathroom to touch himself while thinking of you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

So he creeped upstairs, navigating the way towards your bedroom. He slowly opened your door and peeked through. His pants tightened at the sight of you sprawled out, asleep, wearing a loose tank top that had ridden up, exposing a little bit of your tummy, and a pair of boy shorts. 

His jaw clenched. Your body squirmed a little, you were dreaming. He grinned at the sight; You looked absolutely perfect. 

Without another thought, William stepped into your room, closing the door behind him and locking it. His heart raced with excitement as he approached your bed, staring down at your body. The covers were completely off, exposing you fully. 

“You poor thing,” he mumbled to himself, slowly climbing onto the bed over you. His hands explored your thighs, tracing his fingers gently against your soft skin. You shivered in your sleep, which only added to William’s arousal.                                  

He groaned to himself a little as he carefully adjusted himself against you, slowly grinding his clothed hard on against your crotch. He slipped his hand under your back and pulled you closer to his chest as he grinded into you further. 

He sniffed your hair, inhaling your sweet scent. He moaned a little, not caring if you woke up or not. If anything, he wanted you to wake up. 

His hand roamed over to the zipper of his pants. He effortlessly took them off, releasing you from his grip and sliding his hand down his pants, taking in your tiny frame. He found you so sexy, so helpless, so small. 

He stroked his dick a few times, mumbling your name to himself. God, the things he wanted to do to you. 

As he touched himself, his free hand tugged at your boy shorts, pulling them down and exposing your pussy. 

How perfect. You were all shaved too. 

William chuckled to himself, just as impressed as he was excited. He lined himself up with you, brushing some hair out of your face to take in your beauty. 

You were almost too good to be true. You were made just for him. It’s a shame he hadn’t gotten the chance to do this before, but better late than never. 

Slowly, he slipped himself inside of you.

“Wake up, princess,” he groaned in your ear as he began to fuck you slowly. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and he grinned, quickly taking your wrists in his hands and pinning you down so you couldn’t escape. 

“W-What—“ You were confused at first, but then you realized what was happening. “N-No, William, please stop—“ 

“Fuck, say my name again,” he muttered, his grip tightening onto you even more. 

“N-No, please! Dad! Da—“ 

He quickly covered your mouth with his hand, shaking his head with a few clicks of his tongue. “Oh, no no no,” he taunted, licking his lips, “Your father’s sound asleep. You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.” 

You sobbed into his hand, which only pleased him further. Fear gripped you more and more as the minutes passed, and he groaned into your ear, mumbling your name. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned to himself, then looked you right in the eyes. “You must be so scared, huh?” He grinned, his eyes flashing a wicked glint. 

You shook your head, eyes wide with terror as he continued to fuck you slowly. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head, “You’re so much better than my wife.” 

You continued to sob, mind reeling. You were still in utter shock. You just wanted it to be over, but he was going so slow that you figured he had barely even started. 

His head dipped into the curve of your neck, planting a few soft kisses. “You’re my special little girl,” he whispered, his hot breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. 

The more he fucked you the less your body tensed, and you eventually gave up the fight. 

He chuckled. “Giving up so soon, hm?” He teased, his hand leaving your mouth and moving down to grope your chest. “Not even gonna call out for your daddy to save you?” 

You just laid there and let it happen. You figured it was helpless to scream for help. Your dad’s room was all the way downstairs and he was a deep sleeper. There wasn’t a chance you’d be saved anyways. 

When William realized that you had truly given up, he let out another laugh, speeding up the pace. 

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned, “You make it so easy for me.” 

The arousal was beginning to set in, which you hated but you were almost thankful in a way. At least it was some form of lubricant to ease the pain. 

But your tears still wouldn’t quit. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see his face. But he didn’t like that. 

“Open your eyes sweetie,” he whispered, but you refused, shutting them tighter. “C’mon, open your eyes for me. I shouldn’t have to ask twice.” 

So you obliged. You opened your eyes, and he grinned, licking the tears off your cheeks. 

“You know, I could fuck you for hours,” he told you, his grip of your breast tightening. “A tight little thing like you must a virgin.” 

You stayed quiet. You hoped this was a nightmare but you knew it wasn’t. You just wanted to hold onto some kind of hope that this couldn’t be real. 

You could feel him getting closer and closer to finishing, and in a way you were grateful. At least it was almost over. 

“I’m getting real close sweetie,” he panted, almost sounding humorous, “Just a little bit longer. You can handle me for a little bit longer, can’t you?” He taunted, his hands brushing up and down your waist and stomach. 

You shook your head, but he just laughed. 

“Awe,” he pouted, “That’s just too bad.” 

He groaned in pleasure as he fucked you harder and harder before finishing inside you. He collapsed on top of you, holding you down while breathing heavily. 

“Fuck that was good,” he mumbled, groping your breasts once more. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasized about that.” 

You laid there, shaking, mind reeling with shock. 

“W-Why?” You finally say, letting out another sob. 

He grinned, brushing your hair out of your face. “Because,” he said, “Why not?” 

[anikasheep]

Things turn different in Nightbringer.

Solomon heard MC's sobbing and moaning when he try to find the reasons why Nightbringer send MC back and stop by their room one night.

He was hesitant, but still opened the door quietly. Solomon walked in silence step and shuffled down the edge of the bed.

"MC."

The sobbing and sniffing stoped. MC shifted and looked at him with their puffy red eyes.

"Nightmare?" They shook their head.

"Miss home." They nodded.

Solomon stared down at their hands which under the cover.

"Can I touch you?" They nodded after several seconds.

Solomon palmed their right hand between his and kissed the back of their right hand.

"I am here with you, MC. You can still miss the brothers but I AM HERE AND YOU ARE NOT ALONE."

His eyelashes brushed thee right hand of MC, the moonlight sneaked into the room and shone on Solomon. His silver hair is glowing.

It's hard to describe the feeling swelling in MC's chest, it's warm and fragile, like a butterfly flops it's wings.

The first night, MC fall asleep while Solomon holding their hands.

Living with Solomon is a new experience to MC.

Basically, the cooking duty is all on MC right now. Solomon tried to help but he got banned after the first time MC let him help in the kitchen.

The whole dishes were ruined and can't bearble, it's also the first time MC pushed Solomon out of the kitchen.

"I'll doing this, please helping me set the table and prepare some Demonus, Okay?"

"You sure you don't need my help?"

"I could handle it, and it's the first time I cook for us, right?"

Solomon's face turn to red and you could see Solomon.exe was shut down for 5 seconds.

"...Heheh, all right. Then I'll leave it to you, MC."

The sorcerer smiled fondly and smugly, you don't really know what makes him so happy suddenly.

But if he doesn't get in the kitchen and try to kil you with his cook, you are happy too.

You can't sleep again.

Whenever you close your eyes, the brothers will pop out of your mind and take your sleepiness away.

Tossing and turning, you take out your DDD.

Are you still wake?

Good question, MC. If he answer you, then the answer is yes. And if not, it's obviously not.

You mocked yourself, but still waiting for the sorcerer's replying.

Just ready to sleep, what's wrong MC?

Hum...Solomon still wake until now?

I... can't sleep.

Can I drop by your room please? I don't want to stay in my room alone. :(

The typing bubble stay for a while, then Solomon replies.

Sure. The door is open.

And I am glad you ask me, MC.;)

You sigh in relief and beam without notice.

Knocking twice before you open Solomon's room door, you greet him when you somehow feel nervous.

It's strange, you've came to the brother's rooms so many times, but why feel shy right now? The only exception is when you enter Lucifer's bedroom or study. Hell you can't get rid of nervous when you try to enter the Avatar of Pride's territory. But it has a reason that your human instinct knows Lucifer has his boundary even around you and he's kind of different in his den or be outside.

Does that make sense if the nervous bubble up right now cause Solomon is also that kind?

"Don't need to be so tense up, MC. We're not in a spell lesson or an official meeting. Or you'll make me question myself that am I really that scary to you?" Solomon chuckles.

"No no, you're a great person and kind enough to let me disturb you in this late night. But...I guess my brain just can't go easy on me." You laugh bitterly.

Solomon wears a loose silk white long sleeve shirt, the top two buttons are opened, showing his delicate skin. The dark purple coat cover his shoulders, and that pair of black sleep pants fits his long legs.

Suddenly, this room is getting warmer.

"Well, since you can't sleep, and I do need some time to prepare for sleep. Why don't I read some books for you?" Solomon said while he gesters you to lay down beside him.

You moved slowly, and you can't think straight.

The feeling of Solomon's soft touch, the way he put the covers on you, make sure you won't get cold. The warm feeling spread through the covers, your clothes and to your skin.

The blushing heated your face and heart.

"All right, now let me read one of my lately collections for you."

Solomon's voice is soothing and gentle. You fell asleep when you drowned into his rich comfortable voice.

Solomon closed the book.

The special fragrance candle with relax and help sleep easier worked.

The sorcerer grinned at himself.

He put the book on the table beside the bed, turned off the light and laid down.

A warm and soft body caught him.

His face turned to left slightly, your head rest against his arms, your hands around his waist and his left hand.

Your breathe even, like there's nothing could pull you out of your sweet dreams.

It's been a long time since someone sleep next to Solomon.

Solomon chuckles and try to control his shudder breath.

His lips brushed the little lamb's forehead, only a feather kiss lingered on MC's forehead for a while.

"Good Night, MC."