#need to learn how to make dividers lol

[ctrlchas]

“ 🪷 🪵 🪷 🪵 🪷 🪵 🪷 🪵 🪷 ’’

[selfcarecap]

Halloween [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x neighbour!reader

summary: You dress up as Wolverine for Wade’s Halloween party and it unleashes something in Logan. Him wearing a Ghostface mask also unleashes something in you. Or: Logan fucks you wearing a Ghostface mask.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral, unprotected (but inconsequential) p in v, creampie, doggy in front of a mirror, missionary, cum eating and also Logan spitting it into reader’s mouth, brief chasing kink, (Ghostface) mask kink obv, pet names: bub, baby, good girl), worst!Logan I guess but I couldn’t find a pic to use, Wade being Wade 

word count: 3.8k

note: I didn’t have that much time to write this but I wanted to post something for Logan before Halloween so <3, inspired by that I want to be fucked for Halloween sound on tt lol you'll see what I mean, and some ideas me and @ethanhoewke talked about 🤭, also I’ve never watched Scream so all I can do is mention the mask lol | gorgeous dividers by @dollywons & @anitalenia <3

You meet your neighbours Logan and Wade in the laundry room of your building on Thursday night. They’re fighting over whether they’re going to do a couple’s costume for Wade’s Halloween party next week. 

“We’re not a couple, Wade. We’re not doing a couple’s costume.”

Wade sighs as he stuffs his blood splattered clothes into the washing machine – you’ve learnt not to ask anymore. 

“Hey,” Logan says when he sees you, and those three letters are enough to make your cheeks heat up. You wave at them both, busying yourself with your own washing. 

Wade puts his hand on his hip, “Can you believe Logie won’t do a couple’s costume with me after I adopted him and put a roof over his head? He’s such an ungrateful brat.”

You giggle, meeting Logan’s gaze as he rolls his eyes at his roommate. He turns away to let you do your laundry in peace but Wade walks over to you, sitting down on the bench behind you. 

“What do you want to be for Halloween? Sexy nurse? Sexy doctor? Sexy cop?”

You laugh, “Why do they all have to be sexy?”

“Because it’s you, so it’s impossible for the costume to not be sexy,” Wade raises his eyebrows and you smile at the compliment, sitting down next to him. 

You sigh as you think about his question. 

“Fucked, Wade. I want to be fucked for Halloween.”

You hear a chuckle from Logan a few feet away. You were hoping he wasn’t listening, but he does you the favour of keeping his head turnt in the other direction as he sorts through laundry. You’re closer with Wade – you didn’t necessarily want Logan knowing how badly you need to get laid. 

Wade points to his own chest, “Wait, by moi?”

“I love you but I’d prefer someone who doesn’t look like a burnt chicken nugget.”

“You know what? Even though I look like a burnt chicken nugget, I still love myself. Learned that from the OG.”

You smile, “And anyway, I thought you and Vanessa were back together?”

“That we are,” Wade says, rising to his feet and twirling out of the room like a ballerina, calling out, “I’ll see you later for movie night!” 

“He’s fucking crazy,” Logan says, chuckling, and you smile as you finish doing your laundry. 

-

You’re late to Wade’s Halloween party the following week. You rush two floors up to their shared apartment, but your knocks go unnoticed through the loud music coming from inside and the door won’t open. 

You’re about to get your phone out to call Wade but you realise you can’t. Your fake claws are in the way. 

You’re dressed up as Logan. You recently saw some pictures of when he was younger, effortlessly hot in a tanktop and jeans, hair styled charmingly, almost like kitty ears. 

Accordingly, you’ve got yourself a fitted tanktop, jeans that make you stop in front of every mirror to admire your backside, and a belt with a big buckle like the ones he used to wear. You’ve paired your outfit with kitty ears the colour of your hair and, of course, fake claws protruding between your fingers. 

You hope Logan doesn’t take offence. In your rush to get ready for the party, you didn’t even consider that. 

What if he doesn’t like your costume? What if he thinks it’s disrespectful? You know he’s struggled with his mutation, after all, hurt people he loved because of it. Wade told you the costume was a good idea when you showed him your outfit the other day, but Wade isn’t Logan. 

Plus, it’s Halloween. Halloween is supposed to be scary, even if most people’s costumes aren’t scary nowadays. What if Logan thinks you’re calling him a scary monster? Oh god. You’re considering going downstairs and changing – into what, you don’t know, but the last thing you want is to offend Logan, and if there’s even just a small chance of it then you don’t want to do it after all. Suddenly, you see Logan.  

He’s walking down the hallway where you’ve zoned out, arms folded awkwardly because of your claws. He stops in his tracks, a plastic shopping bag hanging from his hand, and he’s squinting at you; you wouldn’t say he looks mad but you’re not sure. 

Logan comes closer, folding his arms. “Are you supposed to be me?” 

A smile creeps on his face as you tentatively answer with a “…yeah?”

He looks you up and down and it makes your skin heat up as he takes a step forward, “Not sure if I should be offended, bub.”

Oh no–

He continues with a smirk, “Going around stealin’ a man’s look and doing it better than him? Can’t say that outfit used to look that good on me.” You sigh a breath of relief. He likes it. You smile at his compliment, and then he’s reaching out to give a light tug on the cat ears in your hair. 

“I don’t get what these are supposed to be though.”

You push the plastic hair band back in place as you smile up at him, “You know exactly what they are.”

Logan shrugs. “You got something wrong though.”

He stands next to you with the side of his arm pressed against yours, and you gulp at the sudden contact with his warm, beefy arm. Logan makes a fist and unsheathes his claws, holding them next to yours, and they’re at least three times the length of your fake ones, metal sparkling even in the shitty light of the corridor. 

“Should be much bigger,” he smirks, pulling them back in and unlocking the door for you. You don’t miss the implication behind his words, and you swallow as you step into the loud party in their apartment that is decorated to the nines for Halloween. 

Wade runs over to you to hug you, wearing a sexy maid costume over his Deadpool suit. 

“I love it,” you tell him while he simultaneously compliments your outfit. You look around for Logan and only just catch him closing the door to his bedroom, and he disappears behind it. You were too distracted just now to realise that he wasn’t even wearing a costume. 

Your shoulders deflate as you realise he’s probably not coming back out. He was half of the reason you even came to the party. You were looking forward to spending some time with him, but now that you think about it, you wouldn’t expect him to be interested in a Halloween party, crafting an elaborate costume and hanging up corny decorations the way Wade did. 

You try to shake off your disappointment and enjoy yourself nevertheless. 

-

You’re stumbling back to the kitchen after dancing with Wade and Vanessa, getting yourself a drink. You’re softly humming to the music coming from the other room when you feel a presence behind you. 

Your heart speeds up for a moment when you see someone in a Ghostface mask standing right beside you. He’s wearing the mask with a black, tight tanktop stretched over his broad chest. You smell Logan’s cologne as the scent swirls in the air around you, but you could have recognised him by the veins on his arms alone.  

You try to keep your hopes at bay but you can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing the mask because of you. When you watched Scream with him and Wade the other night, Wade kept teasing you about your crush on the killer. 

At the time you felt like disappearing, hoping that Logan was as disinterested as he claimed, that he wasn’t listening to anything you two were saying, but now you’re glad he heard. If he’s wearing the costume for your sake. Which he probably isn’t. You’ve tried to convince yourself that your crush is unrequited, just to protect yourself. It’s a common Halloween costume, nothing to do with you… probably. 

“Hi,” Logan says. You can’t see his face but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Hey…,” you reply, almost shakily, “didn’t think you were coming.”

“I wasn’t going to, couldn’t be bothered to think of a costume. But then I found this so I thought I’ll join you.”

You nod along as he tells you about going out to buy the mask only today, but you’re not paying attention. All you can focus on is how hot it is that you can’t see Logan’s face through the mask, but you still know it’s him. The way his voice is slightly muffled yet strong makes you shudder. 

“So, has your wish for Halloween come true yet?”

You give him a confused smile, only just realising that he’s asking you something.

“You told Wade you wanted to get fucked for Halloween.”

Not able to stop a shy grin from spreading over your face, you say, “Oh. No, hasn’t happened yet. Not counting on it.” 

“No one you like here?” Logan asks, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, trying to think of a flirty reply when Wade’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. 

Wade runs over to Logan, leaning his head to the side flirtily, “I told you it’d look hot, peanut. Are you gonna hunt me later, Mr. Ghostface?” Wade brings a finger to his lip, and, for once, Logan doesn’t get annoyed by his jokes.

“Ghostface only hunts good girls,” Logan says, and your heart starts to beat faster yet again when you realise Logan is looking down at you.

“Am I not a good girl?” Wade asks, and Logan just huffs, ignoring him. You can’t see his eyes, but you can still feel them on you. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud.

It’s not much later that Logan is chasing you through the hallways of your building, with you giggling and squealing only a few feet ahead of him as the adrenaline pumps through you. 

He gave you a headstart but you know he’ll catch you. You want him to catch you. You’re fumbling with the keys to your apartment when he reaches you, your heart hammering in your chest at the thrill of being chased. 

Logan’s hands go to your waist as he pushes you against your front door. 

“I got you.”

You reach up to gently tug the mask off but he stops you when only his lips are exposed, and he grins. You smile and lean up to kiss him, and you somehow manage to fit your key into the lock while you’re making out and push the door open. 

Logan lifts you and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he carries you to your bedroom. 

With your claws and the rest of your clothes discarded on the floor minutes later, Logan is fucking you in front of the mirror by your bed. He’s taking you from behind, mask still on as he pulls and pushes at your hips with you fucking back against him as the mattress dips beneath you. 

But as hot as it is to see the Ghostface mask looking down at you through the mirror, it’s also your first time having sex with Logan and you want to see him.

“Can I take the mask off?” you ask, looking back at him and Logan lifts you so that your back is flush with his chest. You turn around and pull the mask off over his head with a smile.

His hair is messy and a little bit sweaty, and as good as Logan usually looks you don’t think you’ve ever been quite this attracted to him. He holds your face to press a few sloppy kisses to your lips, and then he turns you back around to face the mirror.

Logan doesn’t push you back on all fours, but takes your arms and clasps them behind your back, holding them together with one big hand. He slides his cock back into your wet pussy and begins to rub your clit with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he nods towards the mirror, and you meet his eyes in it, watching as his gaze trails down your body, to where his hand disappears between your soft thighs, “So fucking pretty.”

You lean your head back against his shoulder as he continues to play with your pussy, but he can’t properly fuck you at this angle, so you buck back against him until he manoeuvres you onto your back.

His lips find yours again and your arm sneaks around the back of his neck, holding him close as you kiss him desperately. You whine when his lips leave yours. He kisses down your neck and over your collarbones, down over your tits and over your belly. He arrives between your legs with a smirk and licks through the wetness of your pussy.

He moans when he first makes contact, “tastes even better than I fucking imagined, baby.”

You smile down at Logan as he pulls your socked feet onto his shoulders, fingers grabbing your ankles. “You’ve imagined this?”

Logan looks up at you, “Every single fucking day. You haven’t?”

You smile bashfully despite his own admission, but he doesn’t let you answer anyway, moving his head back between your legs to make out with your pussy. He pushes two fingers inside you, the tips of his fingers rubbing up against your g-spot.

You begin to squirm as the heat builds up in your lower stomach, but Logan holds your hips down with his muscular forearm over your waist, “Stay still for me, baby, okay?”

Logan starts sucking on your clit, and you cum immediately, back arching as you grab onto his hair. Your pussy pulses and throbs around his fingers as pleasure floods your body. You grind up to meet his mouth and he lets you use him until you’re breathless.

He places a last, rough kiss on your pussy, getting back on his knees to fuck you, but you breathe out, “Give me a second.” You smile shyly, your pussy still squeezing around nothing every few seconds.

“Of course, bub.” He leans down to kiss you and you mumble a question against his lips.

“Can I go down on you?”

Logan smiles and sits up, “Me or…?” he nods over to the mask. 

You shrug shyly, “Well, if you’re offering.”

“Why do you think I wore it?” Logan smirks, pulling the mask back on. You briefly pull it up to his forehead again to give him a small kiss of appreciation.

He holds your hand as you get off the bed, sinking down onto the carpeted floor. You smile as his hard cock bobs in front of your face, glistening with precum and your wetness.

You place your hands on his knees and softly trace a path down his cock with your tongue, gently sucking his balls as you look up. A thrill shoots through you when you only see the mask looking back at you, and you move to suck Logan’s dick into your mouth as deep as you can, tasting your own arousal on him.

He throbs hotly against your tongue as you let spit run down his length, slapping his cock against your tongue.

“Such a good girl,” Logan’s voice sounds from above you, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, as you take his cock in your mouth again, your hands back on his knees for support.

You make out with the head of his cock, gently sucking on the skin down the side of him, licking your way up, playing with him.

“I’m close, baby,” he moans.

You mumble against his skin, telling him to take off the mask, and even though it comes out muffled he hears. Logan tugs off the mask in one quick movement, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure and his lips bitten raw. His face glows with desire and a hint of sweat, and he hums when you suck him into your mouth.

You use your hand to jerk off the rest of him, moving your mouth down on him as far as you can, and your eyes flutter shut when you hear Logan moan, and he’s spilling the first ropes of his load down your throat. You keep sucking until you’ve swallowed all of his cum, and only then do you take your mouth off him.

Sitting back, suddenly shy, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand but Logan’s already tugging you up to the bed to kiss you.

“You got another orgasm in you?” he asks against your lips. You straddle him and feel his hard cock smack against your thigh as you tell him yes. He tips you onto your back, leaning down to press a wet kiss to your pussy.

When he gets between your legs and pushes his cock into you again it somehow feels even better than the first time as you gasp in pleasure.

“You’re so warm, bub. So perfect. Wanna stay here forever,” Logan says mindlessly as he bottoms out, and you whine into his mouth.

“Want you inside me forever too,” you babble, already fucked out. You wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks you. It feels like your wet pussy is sucking him in with the way you clech around him, and you both know you won’t take long for your next orgasms.

He slips a hand between your bodies to rub your clit as he begins to fucks you deeper. “You gonna cum for me again, bub? You make such a cute face when you cum. Let me see it again, baby.”

You’re nodding dumbly and letting the feeling of him take over, not just his big cock in your pussy and his slicked fingers on your clit, but the way his body feels on top of yours, warm skin against warm skin as he sloppily kisses your jaw and neck, and you cream around his cock as you cum, moaning his name.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well. Taking my big cock like a good girl, hm?” Logan’s voice is strained, and then he’s cumming too, filling you up with his warm release until your pussy is stuffed full with his cock and his cum. He pulls out slowly and rubs your sensitive clit a little more.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, fucking two fingers into you and when he pulls them out they’re coated in his sticky load.

You reach out to pull him down by his wrist and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking his cum off them as he smirks down at you, rubbing a hand over his face to calm himself for now.

You both come down from your highs with laboured breaths, and he pulls you to lie your head on the pillow. Logan wraps his arms around you, just cuddling you for a bit, when you realise something and smile up at him.

“So, are you that narcissistic that seeing me dressed up as you made you want to fuck me?” 

Logan smirks. “Nah, wanted to fuck you way before that. And I’m just honoured you like me enough to dress up as me.”

You open your mouth for a rebuttal but he instead takes that opportunity to push his tongue back into your mouth as he holds the side of your face. You make out lazily for another few moments, slinging your leg over his hip, but then you drag his hand away from your face.

“Well, I’m honoured you like me enough to dress up for me.” 

“Baby, there’s a lot more I’d do for you than just dress up in a horror mask.”

“Really?” you smile. Logan nods earnestly. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes as you relax into the comfortable silence.

He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, “Will you go out with me?”

You giggle then, “Don’t think you have to ask me anymore.”

“What? I wanna be a gentleman.”

“Yeah, very gentlemanly what you just did to me.”

You feel some of Logan’s cum drip out of your pussy and onto his thigh in that moment.

Logan looks at you and gives you a silly smile, lifting your leg off him to sit up, “Yeah, baby, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman cleans up after himself.”

He spreads your thighs as he gets between them, and licks up your pussy, coating his tongue in his own cum. You smile at his words but soon you begin to pout in pleasure as he starts going down on you again.

You sigh when he stops and moves up to your face, but you smile when you realise what he’s doing, happily parting your lips for him. Logan leans over you and spits his cum into your mouth, “We taste good together, hm?” he asks.

You swallow your combined arousals eagerly, closing your eyes as you savour the taste, but a gentle pat on your clit makes you open them again.

“You got another one in you, right, baby? Just one.” You nod quickly, unable to form words with you needily spread open for Logan like this. 

Lying back, you let Logan eat your pussy until you’re cumming again, your thighs pressing against his temples as he grabs at the flesh of your legs, licking your clit until you’re satisfied.

Logan lies back down next to you with his lips still shiny with your wetness, and you lean in for another kiss. He takes you in his arms to cuddle, when he asks you again.

“So, will you go on a date with me?”

“Only if it ends with you doing that thing with your mouth again,” you tease.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not going a day without it anymore.”

You giggle into his neck, relaxing against his muscular body.

Logan turns around when he gets a text, showing you his phone. It’s a message from Wade:

Everyone left and I’m about to give Vanessa a happy Halloweener if you know what I’m saying! So don’t come home tonight but I have a feeling you weren’t going to anyway ;)

Logan cringes while you laugh, ready to put his phone back when another message comes through.

And if you don’t treat her right I’ll cut off your Halloweener

Logan groans, switching off his phone. You laugh against his skin and let him hold you until you both sink into a warm, cozy sleep.

P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🤭🙂‍↕️

[ovaryacted]

HANDSY

PAIRING: Jackson! Joel Miller x afab! reader || WC: 1.2k

SYNOPSIS: Your cycle is ruining your mood, and what better thing to do than get a free massage.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Suggestive content. Titty massage. Slight daddy kink. Established relationship. Joel being a little bastard. Ambiguous age gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in their 20s). Mentions of menstrual cycle and female characteristics about the chest. Banter and teasing. No use of y/n.

A/N: Alright, I'm kinda on a Joel Miller streak and I was just thinking about getting my tiddies rubbed by a man with strong & rough hands and this happened. Don't look at me like that okay, this is self indulgent and I just had to alright. Hopefully this is relatable for some of y'all lol. Shout out to everyone who has to deal with periods, you are stronger than the marines. Anyways, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

➣ TLOU was created by a zionist and is based off of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Please refer to this link to learn how you can help the Palestinian people.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Another month. Another week of unruly irritation, mood swings, and uncomfortable reactions to anything that breathed too hard or moved too fast. In the hecticness that was your current reality, dealing with the devil’s wrath was supposed to be something that slipped past your mind. Yet, in the efforts of your survival, having a menstrual cycle still took you off guard every time it came punching through your gut.

Tossing and turning in bed, you tried to get in the best position to ease your cramps by curling up in a fetal position. You thought it would make things better, but instead, the discomfort you felt all over your body pissed you off even more. A frustrated grumble filled the bedroom, flinging the sheets away and furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of relief.

Where the fuck is he?

Throwing on a pair of slippers you luckily claimed on a supply run, you shuffled down the creaky stairs of your home and wandered about until you reached the living room. Joel was hunched over his seat on the couch, currently messing with his guitar strings, aware of your presence the moment you hit the base of the stairway.

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” He questioned you as he took in your features and noticed your pout. You were upset; that was obvious when he found you in bed earlier today instead of somewhere else in the house. Simply kissing your forehead and letting you rest as best as he could, he expected you to come down to talk to him eventually when you had the energy to do so.

Joel didn’t say anything as you came closer to him without uttering a word, slipping your legs over his thick thighs and pressing your face into the curve of his neck. He put his guitar to the side and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, hands instinctively digging into your lower back where you felt the most sore. He could tell from the way you clung to him that it was that time of the month, already having gotten used to your changes in demeanor to see the signs.

“Uncomfortable?” Joel asked again, trying to get a better read on your emotions, but he only received an annoyed grunt in response. “Guess we’re just gonna sit here then.”

He ran his fingers up and down your spine, trying his best to lessen the strain you felt. He could snag some herbs to make you tea later if you were in the mood for it, but right now, a massage is what you could handle. His touch made you sigh with alleviation, focusing on the pressure points along your shoulder and backbone. Even with his attempts, the front of your body continued to ache.

“My boobs are fucking killing me.” You declared out loud, a deep rumble of a chuckle escaping from the back of his throat.

“You need me to massage them?” Joel offered, and his intention of doing that was purely to make you feel better. Though, you couldn’t ignore the slight flutter in your belly at the idea of having his hands elsewhere. 

Giving him a nod, you sat straighter on his lap, holding his gaze as he slipped his hands underneath the flannel you wore and made a beeline for your chest. Joel didn’t flinch at the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, being told once or twice how freeing it was not to have to deal with the constant friction of clothes against your heated skin.

He palmed both of your breasts and squeezed, his grip just strong enough to calm the throbbing of the swelling from your change in hormones. Your eyes closed as you focused on his touch, allowing Joel to do whatever he wanted with you, what he knew best.

“Feelin’ better?” You heard him ask, humming out in reply. He grinned at your reaction, the hum sounding close to a purr as he pawed at your chest.

Taking his hands out from underneath your—his shirt, you whined, a smirk tugging at the corners of Joel’s lips. Lifting the top of the flannel to rest on your collarbone, his attention went back to your breasts, looking at them with a mix of desire and affectionate pity.

“Poor baby. Hormones got my girl all cranky and upset.” He said, placing a soft kiss on the top of each breast before handling your body once more. You don’t know whether or not he was deliberately teasing you when you were the most vulnerable, but just hearing his voice was doing wonders to soothe your nerves.

You’ve always been fascinated with Joel’s hands since you met him, watching how he’d hold the handle of his gun or insert ammo into the magazine before reloading. His palms were rough, and his fingers were rougher, representing a man who’s lived a long life, who’s done unspeakable things to survive and get to this point. To most, they’d dislike the feeling of having so much of a contrast, but to you, the difference of his skin against yours was almost euphoric.

Joel squeezed with more purpose, focusing on tightening his grasp along the sides where the pain was the most prominent. One harsh thumb came to stroke at your sensitive nipple in gentle circles, pulling a breathless moan from between your lips. The smile on his face widened when his ears picked up the sound, moving to do a combination of deliberate squeezes and circles on the exposed nubs.

The warmth of his touch morphed into something else, need coiling in your stomach and clawing up your throat. As discretely as you could, your hips shifted further into his, craving much more than what he was giving you. Joel couldn’t help himself and brought you closer to him, grinding his hips up into yours. That got your attention, looking into his hazel eyes to find his pupils narrowly dilated.

“If you need me to rub somethin’ else, I can.” Despite the years worn on his face, he still had a certain boyish charm that jerked at your heartstrings when he flirted with you. Or, maybe it was just his southern gentleman persona, ever so willing to tend to your needs no matter what they may be.

“You’re annoying.” You mumbled to him, stubbornly refusing to outright beg for his affection, regardless of how badly you craved it.

“And you’re moody.” Joel kissed you tenderly, drawing away and snickering when you leaned forward to chase his lips for another.

“Let daddy make you feel good. Alright, darlin’?” You nodded dumbly at the proposition of getting something more than your tits massaged.

His eyes flashed with lust, making quick work to peel off the flannel and toss it to the ground. Already growing hard at the thought of having his way with you, he tilted towards you, kissing the column of your neck and letting his beard tickle your skin. You released a shaky exhale, fingers running through his graying hair and tipping your head back to grant him more access to your skin.

“Atta girl.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[sanguineterrain]

professor pretty | charles xavier

Summary: You duck into a pub to escape a creep. Just when you've lost hope that you'll get to go home at all, a pretty-faced professor comes to your rescue.

Pairing: young!Charles Xavier x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings/tags: creepy guy intimidating reader, charles to the rescue, flirting, drinking, professor!reader, i tried to make it accurate to an english university and make him English but if there's any mistakes feel free to lmk.

this is a modern au in that movie canon is the same but they have cellphones here bc it's easier lol

the divider

There’s a man at the back of the pub, in a scary leather jacket and combat boots, and he won’t stop staring at you. 

Instinct tells you that he’s not going to let you leave either. 

You noticed him after you left the school. That’s what first pushed you into this pub across from the university. Now you’re parked on a stool. You really want to go home, but instead you’re sticking close to the frazzled barman who’s managing about thirty first years who are just jazzed about the new school year. 

You’ve ordered a pint, even though you’re not really a beer drinker, but when in Rome and all that. You’ve had about two sips. 

You sneak a look over your shoulder. The man is still there. Fuck.

“Could I have another pint, please? Cheers.” A man leans against the bar top, hand running through his light brown hair as if on instinct. You’ve seen him once this week, at the university, when you were trying to get your own classroom set up for the term. 

You don’t know his name or what he teaches, but you do know that he likes the poofy-haired, off-duty secretary in the red dress that came in about an hour earlier. And she seemed to like him back. You’re surprised he’s still here.

You rest your chin in your hand, watching detachedly as he orders. He’s got a nice smile and even nicer manners. Posh. Probably a jerk. 

“Hello.”

You look up. Professor Pretty Boy is standing closer to you, blue eyes warm. His smile fades as you look at him.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, brows knitting in concern.

You sigh. “Yeah, great.”

The last thing you need is another guy screwing up your night. Even if this one is considerably better looking.

He rests his elbow against the bar top and pushes his finger against his temple. 

“Is someone bothering you?” he asks after a moment.

Your eyes widen. “How did you–?”

“I recognize the look. Fella in the corner, yeah?”

His words make you tense. You sneak a look back. The man is still there, though he’s now on the phone. 

“I think he’s going to follow me home if I try to leave,” you whisper. 

His eyes soften in concern. You watch him watch you. Then he seems to make a decision.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here, alright?”

He heads straight for the creep. You watch, slack-jawed, as your unsuspecting knight in a crisp, white button-up says a couple words to the man. Then they go outside. 

You turn around, guilt washing over you. What if he gets hurt?

Well, so what, says another part of you, it’s not like you told him to confront the guy.

But your knight returns in thirty seconds, every hair in place. He gracefully slides onto the stool next to you and takes a gulp of beer. Foam gathers on his upper lip. You can’t help your disbelieving smile.

“You’ve got…” You gesture to your mouth.

“Ah.” He takes a napkin and wipes his mouth, avoiding your gaze. Is he flustered? 

“There’s just no dignified way to drink a pint, I’ve learned,” he says, clearing his throat. He smiles at you, less rakish and more bashful. 

“How did you do that?” you ask. “He must’ve been there for half an hour.”

“Hm? Ah, well, I politely explained that that sort of behavior isn’t tolerated here, and that I was very happy to call the police.”

Your brows rise. “Wow. He seemed determined to stay.”

“I can be very persuasive, I’ve been told. Oh! How rude of me.” He sticks out his hand. “My name is Charles. Charles Xavier.”

You shake his hand. It’s cool and soft. You tell him your name. He repeats it softly.

“It’s very nice to meet you, though I wish we’d met through better circumstances,” Charles says.

You nod. “Me too. But thank you, seriously.”

“No thanks necessary. Men should let others live in peace.”

“Words of the century,” you say, raising your glass.

“Cheers,” Charles says, clinking your glasses together. 

You both take a drink. You’re considerably more relaxed. And no, you’re not really Professor Xavier’s type, but you like the company. At least for tonight. 

“So, are you visiting?” he asks. “Pardon my saying, but you don’t sound…”

“Like you?” You playfully raise an eyebrow.

His eyes widen. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve only been here a week, actually. I took a teaching position at the university.”

“You don’t say! I teach here too. What are you teaching? Wait, no, let me guess…”

Charles squints in concentration, putting his hand to his forehead. “Hmm… ah! Women’s literature?”

You shake your head. “You’re on a roll, seriously. I’m in awe.”

Charles waves you off. “You’re too kind. I’m just perceptive.”

And there’s a pinch of something in your gut, something that tells you that it’s more than good perception. But you don’t detect any malice in Charles. In fact, you feel nothing but kindness and genuine interest emanating from his gaze. 

“Well, let’s see if you’ll go two for two. What author am I teaching first?”

Charles smiles at you knowingly, and you’re sure he’s about to say it.

“Oh, I haven’t a clue. Hmm… Ms. Austen?”

You laugh. “No, I’m very sure that the students at Pembroke have gotten their fill of Austen in their A-levels. Do you give up?”

He grins. “Yes, I do. Tell me all about it, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for a quitter, Charles.”

“I know when I’m beat,” he says softly, and the tips of his fingers touch yours. 

To your surprise, you don’t pull away, even though getting involved with a professor your first week would be bad.

But there’s something magnetic about him.

“I was thinking I’d teach The Haunting of Hill House.”

Charles raises his brows. “Horror? My, my. Quite a first impression. I like it.”

“Got to make it memorable, don’t I?”

“I don’t think you’ll have trouble with that,” he says. Your face warms under his incessant charm. “You’ll get on fine here. I’ve been teaching for a few years. My sister keeps pushing me to find a place in America, but I have a hard time letting go of the familiar.”

“I bet you’re popular here,” you say, and Charles immediately catches onto your meaning.

“Heh, well…” Charles purses his lips mischievously. “Ahem. I try to make the course engaging, especially since I teach graduate courses. But I’m a homebody, truly. It’s my sister who pulls me out here, and one thing leads to another, and I get to meet lovely new lecturers with impeccable literary taste.”

You turn and focus on your all but abandoned beer, tracing shapes into the condensation and hoping you’ll get some reserve back.

“Does this charming routine work on everyone?” 

Charles laughs. “Actually, my routine is something like, um…” 

He leans in, half-lidded. “I have all the time in the world for a darling with the TCHH gene. You would call it curly hair, I call it a mutation. A most alluring mutation, mind you—you see, mutations are what took us from single-celled organisms to the dominant form of reproductive life on the planet. And being that it’s my field of study, and I take my studies very seriously, I would love to explore what other genetic wonders you’ve been gifted with.”

It’s quiet for several moments. Then you begin to giggle. Charles schools his expression, feigning indignance. 

“And what’s so funny?”

“You’re not serious,” you say. “Does that really work?”

“I don’t know why you’re laughing—it has a nine out of ten success rate,” Charles says, sticking his nose up. “People like genetic facts.”

“I think they like your pretty face more than the facts, Professor.”

You wince as you realize what you’ve said. Charles pounces immediately.

“Apologies, I can’t hear you very well in this loud pub… did you say my face is pretty?”

“Oh, put a sock in it,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Like you don’t know.”

That draws a full laugh from him, face scrunching in delight. You smile back, shaking your head.

You check your phone out of habit, feeling like it’s been a long time and… holy hell! 11:46. You curse, scraping your stool back.

“Dammit, dammit. I’ve got a lecture tomorrow morning! I’m so sorry, Charles, I have to go.”

You hadn’t meant to stay so long, but the stranger had frightened you, and then you’d met Charles, and…

But you stop short upon seeing the door because of the terrifying thought of the stranger waiting outside for you.

Charles must sense your hesitance. “I can drive you home.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m only a ten minute walk away,” you say, but it’s weak.

He puts a hand on your back. The touch is fleeting, but he’s warm through your shirt. 

“Then I’ll walk with you. I love walking. And the rain will come soon—got to take advantage of clear nights.”

You look at him. He already has his coat. You suddenly remember the woman he’d followed to the back table. 

“Are you sure? Didn’t you have a…”

“She wasn’t interested,” Charles says, back to his perceptive ways. His gaze is fond. “I’d rather walk with you, anyway.”

“You’ve already charmed me, Charles,” you say as he walks you out of the pub.

“No charm,” he says simply, holding the door for you. “Just being honest, darling.”

You feel infinitely better on the way home. Charles keeps your spirits high, providing you with endless advice and assurances for your new job. 

You go up the steps, taking out your key to the flat. 

“Look, um…” 

You stop and turn. Charles follows you up. He starts to touch your arm, then stops. He straightens his tie instead.

“If you see that man again, or someone like him. Someone who doesn’t look right. Promise you’ll tell me, alright? You can reach me on my mobile any time.”

He hands you a card. Charles Xavier, Mutant Expert. Huh.

You look at him, fear returning. “Do you think he’ll come back?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, he won’t bother you. But if… I don’t know. Never mind. No, I’m worrying you. I’m just making you paranoid. Forget that.”

You shrug. “You’re keeping me safe. I like that.”

Charles chews the inside of his lip for a second. Then he leans in and kisses your cheek. You inhale sharply. 

His thumb lingers on your jaw before he pulls away completely.

“Good night,” he says, pupils dilated in the dim light. 

“Good night, Charles. Thank you.”

“Any time. And if you just want to go for a pint, that number isn’t just for emergencies.” 

“Are you that sure of yourself?” you ask, hand on your hip.

“No.” He smirks. “I just happen to be very perceptive.”

[damienns]

My GIF Making process: Screen capturing using MPV player, Organizing files, 3 Sharpening settings, Basic Coloring PSD + Actions set

This is a very long post so heads up.

I’ll try to be as thorough and true as much as possible to the way I make my gifs (I already use Photoshop Actions which I’ve long since set up but now for this tutorial I’m reviewing them to show you the exact steps I’ve learned to create my gifs 😃) and present them to you in a semi-coherent way. Also, please bear with me since English is my second language.

First things first. Below are the things and tools we need to do this:

Downloaded 4K or 1080p quality videos (let’s all assume we know where to get these—especially for high definition movies and tv series—so this post doesn’t get removed, okay? 😛)

Adobe Photoshop CC or the CS versions can work as well, but full disclosure I haven’t created gifs using the CS versions since 2020. I’m currently using Adobe Photoshop 2024.

mpv player. Use mpv player to get those frames/screenshots or any other video player that has a screen grabber feature. I’ve used adapter for the longest time but I’ve switched to mpv because the press to screenshot feature while the video is playing has been a game changer not to mention ultimate time saver for me. For adapter you need to play it in another video player (like VLC player), to get the start and end timestamps of the scene you want to gif which takes me ages before I can even open Photoshop.

Anyway! Please stop reading this post for a moment and head over to this amazing tutorial by kylos. She perfectly tells you how to install and use mpv player, both for Mac and Windows users.

One thing I have to share though, I had a tough time when I updated my MacOS to Sonoma since MPV is suddenly either duplicating frames or when I delete the duplicates the player seems to be skipping frames :/ I searched and found a solution here, though it didn’t work for me lol. My workaround for this in the meantime is decreasing the speed down to 0.70 then start screenshotting—it’s not the same pre Sonoma update but it works so I’ll have to accept it rather than have jumpy looking gifs.

Now, after this part of kylos’ tutorial:

you can continue reading the following sections of my gif tutorial below.

I want to share this little tip (sorry, this will only cater to Mac users) that I hope will be helpful for organizing the screenshots that MPV saved to the folder you have selected. Because believe me you don’t want to go through 1k+ of screenshots to select just 42-50 frames for your gif.

The Control + Command + N shortcut

This shortcut allows you to create a new folder from files you have pre-selected. As you can see below I have already created a couple of folders, and inside each folder I have selected screenshots that I want to include in one single gif. It's up to you how you want to divide yours, assuming you intend to create and post a Tumblr gifset rather than just one gif.

Another tip is making use of tags. Most of, if not all the time, I make supercorp gifs so I tag blue for Kara and red (or green) for Lena—just being ridiculously on brand and all that.

Before we finally open Photoshop, there's one more thing I want to say—I know, please bear with me for the third? fourth? time 😅

It's helpful to organize everything into their respective folders so you know the total number of items/frames you have. This way, you can add or delete excess or unnecessary shots before uploading them in Photoshop.

For example below there are 80 screenshots of Kara inside this folder and for a 1:1 (540 x 540 px) Tumblr gif, Photoshop can just work around with 42-50 max number of frames with color adjustments applied before it exceeds the 10 MB file size limit of Tumblr.

Sometimes I skip this step because it can be exhausting (haha) and include everything so I can decide visually which frames to keep later on. You'll understand what I mean later on. But it's important to keep the Tumblr 10 MB file size limit in mind. Fewer frames, or just the right amount of frames, is better.

So, with the screenshot organization out of the way, let's finally head over to Photoshop.

Giffing in Photoshop, yay!

Let’s begin by navigating to File > Scripts > Load Files into Stack…

The Load Layers window will appear. Click the Browse button next.

Find your chosen screenshots folder, press Command + A to select all files from that folder then click Open. Then click OK.

After importing and stacking your files, Photoshop should display the following view:

By the way, I'll be providing the clip I've used in this tutorial so if want to use them to follow along be my guest :)

If you haven't already opened your Timeline panel, navigate to Windows > Timeline.

Now, let's focus on the Timeline panel for the next couple of steps.

Click Create Video Timeline, then you’ll have this:

Now click the menu icon on the top right corner then go to Convert Frames > Make Frames from Clips

Still working on the Timeline panel, click the bottom left icon this time—the icon with the three tiny boxes—to Convert to Frame Animation

Select Make Frames From Layers from the top right corner menu button.

So now you have this:

Go and click the top right menu icon again to Select All Frames

Then click the small dropdown icon to set another value for Frame Delay. Select Other…

The best for me and for most is 0.05 but you can always play around and see what you think works for you.

Click the top right menu icon again to Reverse Frames.

I think Photoshop has long since fixed this issue but usually the first animation frame is empty so I just delete it but now going through all these steps there seems to be none of that but anyways, the delete icon is the last one among the line of feature buttons at the bottom part of the Timeline panel.

Yay, now we can have our first proper GIF preview of a thirsty Lena 😜

Press spacebar to watch your gif play for the very first time! After an hour and half of selecting and cutting off screenshots! 😛 Play it some more. No really, I’m serious. I do this so even as early (lol) as this part in the gif making process, I can see which frames I can/should delete to be within the 10 MB file size limit. You can also do it at the end of course 🙂

Now, let’s go to the next important steps of this tutorial post which I’ve numbered below.

Crop and resize to meet Tumblr's required dimensions. The width value should be either 540px, 268px, or 177px.

Convert the gif to a Smart Object for sharpening.

Apply lighting and basic color adjustments before the heavy coloring. I will be sharing the base adjustments layers I use for my gifs 😃.

1. Crop and Resize

Click on the Crop tool (shortcut: the C key)

I like my GIFs big so I always set this to 1:1 ratio if the scene allows it. Press the Enter key after selecting the area of the frame that you want to keep.

Side note: If you find that after cropping, you want to adjust the image to the left or another direction, simply unselect the Delete Cropped Pixels option. This way, you will still have the whole frame area available to crop again as needed and as you prefer.

Now we need to resize our gif and the shortcut for that is Command + Opt + I. Type in 540 as the width measurement, then the height will automatically change to follow the ratio you’ve set while cropping.

540 x 540 px for 1:1

540 x 405 px for 4:3

540 x 304 px for 16:9

For the Resample value I prefer Bilinear—but you can always select the other options to see what you like best.

Click OK. Then Command + 0 and Command + - to properly view the those 540 pixels.

Now we get to the exciting part :) the sharpen settings!

2. Sharpen

First we need to have all these layers “compressed” intro a single smart object from which we can apply filters to.

Select this little button on the the bottom left corner of the Timeline panel.

Select > All Layers

Then go to Filter > Convert for Smart Filters

Just click OK when a pop-up shows up.

Now you should have this view on the Layers panel:

Now I have 3 sharpen settings to share but I’ll have download links to the Action packs at the end of this long ass tutorial so if you want to skip ahead, feel free to do so.

Sharpen v1

Go to Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen…

Below are my settings. I don’t adjust anything under Shadows/Highlights.

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.4

Click OK then do another Smart Sharpen but this time with the below adjustments.

Amount: 12

Radius: 10.0

As you can see Lena’s beautiful eyes are “popping out” now with these filters applied. Click OK.

Now we need to Convert to Frame Animation. Follow the steps below.

Click on the menu icon at the top right corner of the Timeline panel, then click Convert Frames > Flatten Frames into Clips

Then Convert Frames > Convert to Frame Animation

One more click to Make Frames From Layers

Delete the first frame then Select All then Set Frame Delay to 0.05

and there you have it! Play your GIF and make sure it’s just around 42-50 frames. This is the time to select and delete.

To preview and save your GIF go to File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy)…

Below are my Export settings. Make sure to have the file size around 9.2 MB to 9.4 MB max and not exactly 10 MB.

This time I got away with 55 frames but this is because I haven’t applied lighting and color adjustments yet and not to mention the smart sharpen settings aren't to heavy so let’s take that into consideration.

Sharpen v1 preview:

Sharpen v2

Go back to this part of the tutorial and apply the v2 settings.

Smart Sharpen 1:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.3

Smart Sharpen 2:

Amount: 20

Radius: 0.5

We’re adding a new type of Filter which is Reduce Noise (Filter > Noise > Reduce Noise...) with the below settings.

Then one last Smart Sharpen:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.3

Your Layers panel should look like this:

Then do the Convert to Frames Animation section again and see below preview.

Sharpen v2 preview:

Sharpen v3:

Smart Sharpen 1:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.4

Smart Sharpen 2:

Amount: 12

Radius: 10.0

Reduce Noise:

Strength: 5

Preserve Details: 50%

Reduce Color Noise: 0%

Sharpen Details: 50%

Sharpen v3 preview:

And here they are next to each other with coloring applied:

v1

v2

v3

Congratulations, you've made it to the end of the post 😂

As promised, here is the download link to all the files I used in this tutorial which include:

supercorp 2.05 Crossfire clip

3 PSD files with sharpen settings and basic coloring PSD

Actions set

As always, if you're feeling generous here's my Ko-fi link :) Thank you guys and I hope this tutorial will help you and make you love gif making.

P.S. In the next post I'll be sharing more references I found helpful especially with coloring. I just have to search and gather them all.

-Jill

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Ok, I just read your sweet yandere post and would like to add something.

I love the idea of like a mafia boss yandere or someone who is usually cruel (like maybe a Hades sort of character) but is an absolute sweet heart to their darling. One of my fave tropes

OOOOOOH I LOVE THIS TROPE! I have a character who's just like this actually, a total sweetheart to whoever he's with but has a very low tolerance for most other people.

Sorry, this is a long one lol

I'm gonna make headcanons now because you've inspired me lol.

(Banner/divider credit goes to @cafekitsune)!

Tw: Kidnapping, mentions of violence

Mafia boss! Charlie who is no stranger to violence. He's lived his entire life surrounded by it, in fact. Having a mafia boss for a father will do that to you, he guesses.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's spent his whole life working for the mafia, being trained to kill, smuggle, and deal ever since he was a child. He grew up living a life of crime, rising up the ranks (thanks to his father), before taking over as the boss when his father was killed by an unruly client.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's a cruel, ruthless man. He's killed dozens of people, injured many more, and runs his organization with an iron fist. He may be young, but he's learned enough to know that any show of trust, any display of kindness is a show of weakness, a show of vulnerability. He can't afford that, not when he's the head of the mafia, so he makes sure to make it so that no one will question or challenge his authority by any means necessary.

Mafia boss! Charlie who has very few real friends, keeping those he does have at an arm's length. He'd rather die than admit that he craves real relationships, that he desires to make genuine, true connections with others. But he can't, so he pushes his wants to the side, reminding himself that his only purpose is to keep his business running smoothly, nothing more.

Until he sees you, that is.

Mafia boss! Charlie who meets you out on a grocery run one day. Your interaction is nothing special, at least to you, but Charlie can't help but marvel at how easily you make conversation with him while ringing up his items, how seemingly unfazed you are by his snappy attitude and unapproachable appearance. It's been a long, long time since he's met anyone unafraid of him, and those people are usually rivals who are too cocky for their own good. So this, this is new. He knows it's stupid, he knows that your tiny interaction shouldn't have mattered much to someone like him, but he can't help but feel giddy about the connection he's sure he felt.

Mafia boss! Charlie who, against his better judgment, wastes no time in trying to find out who you are. It's not hard, he has an entire organization full of trained trackers, stalkers, and informants at his disposal, and by the end of the day, he has your full name, address, social media accounts, family tree, medical records, and much more safely in his welcoming hands. He knows this is a bit overkill considering he only met you today and your interaction lasted five minutes at most, but now that he has a taste of real human interaction, he's addicted. He needs more.

Mafia boss! Charlie who quickly becomes awestruck and obsessed with you. His whole life, he's been surrounded by the craftiest, cruelest, most violent people imaginable, so to see someone, especially someone as precious as you, live a completely normal life, naive to the dangers he faces everyday? It's captivating! Of course, he can't follow you all day, he is a mafia boss after all, but he has enough people following you around and recording your every move that he doesn't need to! He's never been happier to be who his is than now.

Mafia boss! Charlie who thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. You're a sweet little thing, too gentle and too unaware of the dangers around you for your own good. He loves everything about you, no matter how weird or embarrassing. He's content to watch you carefully for a couple months, but as time goes on, his need to feel our touch, to talk to you, to see you face to face is too much. He needs you. He needs you NOW. It doesn't help that you're so vulnerable and weak compared to him, with no knowledge of weaponry or stealth to keep you safe. What if someone were to try and hurt you? Of course, his goons wouldn't let that happen, not if they wanted to keep their organs, but he would feel so much better if he could keep an eye on you personally. Not to mention, every mafia boss needs a spouse, and some of his higher ranking associates have been hinting that it's about time he found someone...

Mafia boss! Charlie who immediately starts planning your "transfer" to his house, meticulously drafting out every last detail to secure your safety. He chooses his best, most skilled employees to carry out his plan, only the best for his darling, and sends them out to bring you "home". That day you come home from work, completely unaware of the people in your apartment, completely unaware of the sleeping pills dumped into your water while you weren't looking.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's ecstatic to finally have you with him, to finally have someone to hold, to talk to, to love. He brings your unconscious body to your new room, laying you softly on the bed while instructing his employees to pack up all your belongings and bring them to him. He doesn't tie you down or chain you up, he has enough security measures in place to make sure you won't be able to escape. You won't even be able to leave your room without him being notified.

Mafia boss! Charlie who watches the camera in your room as you wake up for the first time in your new home, confused and disoriented. All of your stuff is here, but this is NOT your apartment. Where are you? He watches as you start to freak out, guilt flashing through him for the first time in his life. He doesn't want you to be scared, he just wants to keep you safe!

Mafia boss! Charlie who sends one of his gentler employees into your room to explain everything, too afraid of scaring you even further by showing up himself. He waits a few days before revealing himself to you, when your terror has calmed down and you've become more familiar with your surroundings. He kind of just stands there, unable to formulate a sentence, which is extremely unnerving to you. You've been told you're to be married to a highly respected and violent mafia boss, and here he is, just...staring. When he opens his mouth to speak, your surprised at how soft his voice is, calmly explaining to you that you're safe, you won't be hurt. He reaches out his hand to touch you, but recoils when you flinch, not wanting to push you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who does everything he can to make you more comfortable and less afraid of him, getting you anything and everything you've ever shown interest in, giving you as much space as you need, and letting you roam the rather large house freely. All you can't do is leave. He doesn't understand why you're still so scared, sure he's a criminal, but he promised he would never hurt you!

Mafia boss! Charlie who gets more desperate for your love as time goes on. He starts appearing in whatever room your in, softly talking to you about his day or about whatever you're doing, trying to get you to be more comfortable with him. Once you've gotten used to that, he starting slowly initiating physical contact, holding you in his arms like he's never going to let you go (because he won't). He tried his hardest not to push your boundaries, but eventually his need to be near you becomes too great. Rest assured though, he would never, ever dream of hurting you or purposely scaring you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who can't get enough of the feeling of your skin on his. He starts hugging/cuddling you whenever he can, holding you like you'll break if he presses too hard. He's always near you, cuddling up to you while telling you about how much he loves you, adoration shining in his eyes. He's the clingiest at night though, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall asleep, him watching over you until he succumbs to his own tiredness. And his kisses? They are the softest, fluffiest thing you've ever felt. He cannot get enough of your lips, and he always kisses you passionately, like you'll disappear once he separates from you. With how loving and gentle he is, it doesn't take long for you to start loving him back.

Mafia boss! Charlie who starts giving you more privileges the farther you fall into stockholm. He'll even start taking you out in public on dates once he thinks there's no chance of you trying to escape him. He'd be able to find you if you did, he has many, many connections, but he trusts you won't. He loves going out with you and doing normal, coupley things with you, it's a nice break from his usual, violent life.

Mafia boss! Charlie who is insanely protective of you, never leaving you alone in a room with anyone except for himself. He knows how dangerous it is to be associated with him and now that he has you, he refuses to let anything happen to you. Any rival who attempts to hurt, kill, or kidnap you is met with Charlie himself, who enacts the most brutal, torturous death he can possibly think of on them. Nobody will come close to hurting you, he'll make sure of it. But no matter what happens, he'll always make sure you're far, far away from the violence. He never wants to subject you to the horrors he's seen (and done).

Mafia boss! Charlie who feels awful the first time you hear him raise his voice. It wasn't at you of course, he would never, ever think of yelling at his darling, you just happened to be in the room when he was meeting with one of his associates. It's scary seeing him yell, threatening brutal acts of violence on his own employee, and for the first time you realize how different he is with others than he is with you. He's quick to shut the meeting down once he realizes you're there, spending the rest of the night apologizing to you and assuring you he would never speak to you like that. This'll be the first time he truly opens up about what his job is like and why he has to be as cruel as he is, trying to help you understand why he behaved the way he did. It's difficult for him to make himself vulnerable, but he'd gladly to it if it meant easing your mind. From then on, he makes absolute sure you aren't around whenever he has to take care of business. He refuses to let you see him like that ever again.

Mafia boss! Charlie who never lets you forget how much he needs you in his life. You're the only thing keeping him from devolving into insanity, he wouldn't know how to handle himself if you were gone. He'll give you everything and anything if you listen to him and stay by his side, so please... please don't try to leave him.

Not that you would be able to, anyway.

[honeytonedhottie]

becoming an academic weapon challenge⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✍🏽

this is a fun little challenge i created that'll hopefully help u to build good academic habits that'll improve ur grades and help inspire you to pursue excellence in ur academic life.

STEP ONE : ROMANTICIZE THE HECK OUT OF SCHOOL

when u learn to enjoy going to school, your going to be motivated to do well in school. because school is so IMPORTANT not only for ur education but also ur future. so take school seriously. and if u wanna become an academic weapon for the long term the best thing u can do is learn to make the best of, and enjoy it.

some ways to romanticize school :

create a school playlist that embodies the school vibes that u wanna have : i have lots of new jeans in my school playlist : i rly like the songs cookie, ditto and hurt for when im at school

ur appearance : if u go to a school where u dont have to wear uniforms, i strongly recommend getting dressed and getting ready meticulously bcuz when u look good, u feel good, and therefore u perform well. if u do wear uniform, wear accessories or hairstyles that make u feel and look pretty. i wear leg warmers with my school uniform and my signature is hair clips and barrettes.

read at school : i always walk around with a book bcuz i like to read a lot but if reading isnt ur thing, listen to a podcast about something that interests u (i rly like true crime)

take pride in ur notes : invest in cute stationary! i swear, sometimes i dont feel like studying but since my stationary is super cute and pink i get motivated to study just by looking at it lol. invest in quality stationary that u love and make ur notes look pleasing to you, and also effective. effective + aesthetically pleasing.

doing homework/studying in the library : or at least changing the scenery and location that u do ur homework from time to time. do yk how boring it is to do work in the same place every single day? give urself a break from the places u see all the time and spend time studying or doing homework outside of ur home. in a cafe or in the library, inside or outside, just change the scenery a bit

start a video diary : i started a little video diary with my friends so that we can remember our school memories. i just think its rly cute and a great way to bond with ur friends, make memories, and romanticize school.

STEP TWO : CREATE A STUDY REGIMEN

every single day study (at least for a little bit) ofc this will vary depending on ur personal schedule but the goal is to do a little bit of studying everyday, and if that isnt possible, designating 3 days a week to a thorough studying session.

the way that i divide my time with a study session is 40 minutes of work time and 20 minutes of downtime. during the 40 minutes of work time u need to LOCK IN. lock in on whatever assignment needs to be complete or lock in on whatever material it is that ur studying. ofc this'll differ between all subjects but dont study all subjects in one night!! thats ambitious, but i find it'll just burn u out so stick to studying for 2-3 subjects max.

STEP THREE : ADVOCATING FOR URSELF

this step is for everyone who feels a bit shy during school but u need to raise ur hand and ask questions!! dont focus on simply learning the material, the goal is to understand the material. understand it enough so that then u can explain it to someone else. thats how you can know when you've studied enough.

dont feel bad for asking a bunch of questions, its literally the teachers job to help you. so advocate for urself, if u need extra classes or a bit of extra help make sure that u get that for urself bcuz at the end of the day the only one responsible for ur grade is you.

STEP FOUR : THE RULES OF THE CHALLENGE

complete every assignment as if it was for a grade - dont half ass ur assignments, give every assignment 100%

study a little bit everyday or have thorough study sessions three times a week

romanticize school

ask one or more questions per teacher

FURTHER RESOURCES :

how to study consistently without burning out - by me

studying tips from a straight A student - @universalitgirlsblog2

[ghosts-bandwagon]

TF141 + König help you move

Here’s some backstory (bc this is incredibly self-indulgent send help): you take everything upon yourself, plan everything down to the last detail so you just wind up overwhelming yourself and then you’re just running on fumes the entire time, you are not at peace until you’ve moved into the new place, you are a ball of stress aaaand go:

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He’s very much the type to watch you go, he knows you’re overloading yourself and he wants to step in but he also knows you need to learn how to ask for help

That’s not to say he’s completely hands off, he’s listening to every word when you review your checklist, he’s helping you pack- everything from assembling the boxes to sealing them when they’re full

He’s taken it upon himself to make sure you eat a proper meal

“What’s this?” You ask as you mute your phone while on hold with the utilities company for your new place,

“It’s breakfast. Eat.”

“I already-”

“Iced coffee isn’t food, love.”

Bet

So he’ll take to cooking or grabbing your favorite take out

If you’re worried you forget something, he’ll go down the list with you, going so far as to grab your notebook and review it with you

He encourages you to sort through your belongings and figure out what you want to keep and what you want to give away

His rule: if I haven’t seen you use it, wear it, read it, or touch it in the last six months, it’s going in the giveaway box (save for stuff with sentimental value)

Surprisingly enough, it helps reduce how much you have to pack and you couldn’t be more thankful

All in all, 10/10

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He’s so much fun to be around

He knows you’re taking on too much and he’ll tell you as much

“I’m fine, Johnny, I just like these things done a certain way. And when the order gets messed up, I have a panic attack.”

“Well, then explain how you’d like it done, and I’ll see to it that it stays that way, sound good?”

He’s so understanding god bless

He does everything possible to make the process stress free, from putting on music while you’re packing and cleaning, to being in charge of snacks 

He helps divide the labor very seamlessly, he does all the physical stuff (packing, cleaning, moving furniture, etc) and he leaves the logistics to you, (utilities, new apt, address change, etc)

If at any point you feel like it’s still too much, he’ll jump in without hesitation 

Just tell him where you’re struggling and what your next task is and he’ll gladly take over

You point, he’ll shoot (or pack, in this case)

John Price:

Like??

Good luck trying to take control of the whole thing

He’s way ahead of you and doesn’t let you do a single thing on your own, that’s not true, he’ll let you do things on your own but not all of it, you get the idea

Man’s a Captain for god’s sake, he definitely has a system to make the process easier

He makes sure you start the process sooner rather than later to avoid scrambling last minute

Before even buying boxes, he’ll sit down with you to come up with a checklist for things to do and what order to pack your place in

He’s very encouraging throughout the whole process

“Phew, almost an hour later and I was successfully able to transfer my car insurance.” You sighed slumping against the table, practically throwing your phone to the other side of the room

“You’re doin’ great, love, keep it up.” He comes up behind you to rub your shoulders and rub your back encouragingly

He’s with you every step of the way

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

I love him but I can see it as being kind of chaotic lmao but still fun!

You better believe he’s got Animal Crossing music on loop

He claims it’ll help you get into the cleaning/packing frame of mind and son of a bitch he’s right 

He sets a hard limit of one to two things a day, so if you finished packing up your living room sooner than you expected and now you want to move on to your bedroom, too damn bad

He’ll physically stop you lol

“You already did enough, babe, it’s time to rest.”

“I feel fine, Ky, I can keep going.”

“Trust me darlin’, take it easy, you’re doing great.”

Definitely the type to give you a treat to help keep you motivated, or even start your day with a treat

You’re dreading calling the new internet company to set up your new wifi? Well guess what? He’s treating you to coffee and a cinnamon roll from your favorite cafe to help motivate you

You’re dead tired after packing up all your belongings in your room, dinner is your pick babe, whatever you want, yes, Taco Bell is perfectly ok 

König:

Very good at following directions and equally good at being perceptive and knowing when to step in without being asked

He knows you have a habit of taking on more than you can handle but he also knows your tells just as well

Increased irritability, you’re more tired than usual, you’re not eating as much, drinking more coffee than you normally do, jittery leg, trouble sleeping, he knows you babe, he sees you

So he does everything he can to prevent you from getting to that point

If you’re complaining about packing all your books, don’t worry about it, he’s on it

You’re stressed about cleaning as you pack, no need, he’s already coming behind you with Clorox wipes, a broom, and a swiffer mop

He encourages you to offload some of your tasks to him, insisting that he knows how you want it done and can do it accordingly

“Schatz, you have so much on your plate already, let me handle renting the truck and getting the supplies, we’ll go over what you want to do first, and I’ll help you do it, ok?”

At the end of the night when your limbs ache from exhaustion, he gently taking your hands in his and massaging the tension away, placing little kisses as he goes

[achilles-rage]

SFW Alphabet

word count: 3.1k

A/N: i'm so sorry his took a while to write, i got really into bridgeton and binged the whole thing so my mind was on that. also, i felt like lady whistledown while finishing this LOL. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He likes some PDA, but will tone it down most of the time, opting to have his arm around you or steal quick kisses when attention isn't on you. At home, however, he is ON YOU, as touch is the easiest way for him to show affection. He wants to have you as close to him as possible, with his hands all over you. I think words of affirmation are also important for him to receive, so he loves hearing you tell him how much you love and appreciate him.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He can become friends with anyone at any time. He is a yapper. And with all his random facts in the back of his brain I think he can find common ground with just about anyone. If on the odd chance he doesn't, he's more than happy to listen and learn. As a friend, there is nothing he wouldn't do to keep you safe and happy. He would make sure to check in all the time and would be happy to do favours, anytime you need. I think in a best friend he needs someone to have serious conversations with, but also have fun with. He loves to have a friend he can truly open up to about his childhood or anything he's feeling, and of course will listen to you in return.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

CUDDLER ALERT!!! BIG MAN BABY ALERT!!!!! He loves physical touch, so cuddling is one of his favourite ways of showing affection. He would cuddle with you in any place and any position but there's something about being little spoon that hits so hard, especially after a long day at work. He also loves laying on his back with your head on his chest and vice versa so he can lay on your tits<3

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

This man owns a fucking APRON!! He is in his element in a domestic little scenario. He wants nothing more than to start a loving family and create a safe place with his partner. He definitely likes cooking more than cleaning, but he's fair, and will divide cooking and household chores pretty evenly.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's been to therapy, and we've all seen how his other relationships have ended. He now knows the importance of communication, so I think there would be a lead up to a break up. He wants nothing more than to work it out with you, trying to talk out the issues, but if there was no plausible solution, he would sit you down and have an honest, but respectful conversation about it.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He wants to be married so bad!!! He can't wait to find the right person to settle down with. He loves seeing all the happy couples he works with, and he can't wait to add someone to the 118 fam. I think the timeline could go two ways, he's pretty impulsive, so I could definitely see him proposing within a year of dating (if everything is going exceptionally smoothly). The other way it could go is him waiting like, a weirdly long time. He's a bit nervous about you saying no, so he holds off (even though he imagines you with a ring on your finger very often), but one day just kinda blurts it out. Maybe you're laying in bed, talking and giggling and he's just filled with an uncontrollable joy, and he just has to speak his mind. After he says it he kinda freezes, looking at you nervously before you of course say yes and he's basically jumping for joy, hugging you and kissing all over your face and pulling the ring out of his closet that he bought but was too nervous to present to you in the traditional way lol.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's pretty gentle overall, both physically and emotionally. He's seen how he who shall not be named has affected Maddie and would never do anything to make someone afraid of him in that way (either a partner or a friend). He loves giving you soft touches, loving how you shiver as his fingers trail down your arms, your chest, your soft stomach, your plush thighs. He's also a man who has been to therapy, so he might be a little impulsive, but he has a lot of emotional intelligence, and always tries to ground himself and be as gentle as possible in any situation when it comes to people he cares about.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

King of hugs, truly. He LOVES them. It's a nice way for him to show how much he cares, and how much he loves you, so expect them often. If you're not one for physical touch, he understands, but sometimes he just can't help himself. Sometimes he needs a good hug to calm him down, or during the odd time that he has no words, he tries to put all his emotions into a hug. He's a bear hugger, he loves feeling your arms around him, your chest and soft belly pressing against him. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in as close as you can possibly get, resting his cheek on the top of your head. When he's really happy, his arms are going around your waist, lifting you up off the ground as you protest, fighting out a "put me down" through giggles, but still hugging him back. He will hear none of your protests, of course. Have you seen his arms? He works out. "Of course I can lift you, pretty girl"

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I think he waits a while to say it. He's been in his fair share of relationships and is a little weary of people leaving, so I think saying I love you could be something that he's a little hesitant to say early. Once he does, however, it's coming out of his mouth about 30 more times before the day ends. Before he says it, there's plenty of other ways he says it without actually saying the words. "Text me when you get home." "Did you eat today?" "Here, let me help you with that." That sort of thing. To him, words of affirmation are important, he likes to hear how things are going, so him saying I love you is just his way of ensuring that he's in it all the way.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ok, I know what you're going to say, "but what about 7x04???" I know, but I think those were slightly different circumstances. I think before he gets into a relationship, and he knows that you only want him, he can get very jealous. If he sees someone getting a little too close to you, it takes everything in him not to physically get in between you and the person you're talking to (even though he sometimes will discreetly, brushing it off as him wanting to tell you something or show you something). He's scared that you'll choose someone else instead and leave him. He'll hang out with you more, asking more and more about this new person in your life, making sure that they don't have a better chance to get with you than he does.

If you are dating, however, I think he really tones it down on the jealousy. Instead of worrying about other people, he shows you how much he cares about you. If he really feels jealous, I think he may bring it up to you, as he's learned the importance of communication, and will try to come up with a fair way to solve this problem. He doesn't expect you to not talk to this person anymore, he more just needs to hear that you want him, not the other person, and that you are happy in your relationship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I could actually write 100,000 words about this I think, but I'll keep it short(ish). This man THRIVES on kisses, if you think he loves hugging, good lord you're in for it. He puts so much emotion into his kisses, if it's not just a peck, and you're not expecting it, it'll leave your head spinning. He'll give you quick pecks all the time, but sometimes he can't help but wrap his arms around you and give you a long passionate kiss. Once he pulls away he'll kiss your face all over, loving how you laugh softly. He also loves giving you kisses on the top of your head when he hugs you, just letting you know that he's there and he loves you. His favourite, however, are neck and jaw kisses, both giving and receiving. He loves how you tilt your head back, sighing softly as he kisses you, melting against his touch. He also loves feeling your lips on him, squeezing your waist tighter as you kiss him, feeling so loved and cared for in that moment. Be warned though, if you kiss that man's jaw, he has no choice but to jump on you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Dear god he loves kids so much, we've all seen how he is with Jee, the baby from episode one, and that little girl stuck in the claw machine. He's full of energy anyway, so he loves running around with them, colouring with them, watching their silly little shows and singing with them. I also believe this man is a girl dad, and you WILL catch him wearing a tutu and a little princess crown on his head, looking comically large with a little teacup in his hand (with freshly painted bright pink nails, his pinky out, obviously) and sitting uncomfortably at his daughters teeny little table.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

If neither of you work, you take the opportunity to spend some extra time in bed, slowly waking up together as Buck has practically wrapped himself around you. When you finally drag yourselves out of bed, you go downstairs to make some coffee. If you're feeling fancy you'll make some waffles with strawberries and blueberries, but most of the time it's eggs or frozen waffles lol. You spend the morning quietly, just enjoying each other's company before getting on with your day, using it as a time of relaxing and being close to each other.

On days where one or both of you works, you'll still stay in bed for a few minutes, happily pressed against each other before you finally have to get ready for the day. You'll mostly spend your time separately as you get ready, whoever has more time that morning will brew the coffee and bring up that and something quick for breakfast to the other, with a soft kiss as a thank you. While you spend your mornings doing your own things to get ready, they're still full of touching and kissing as either of you pass each other, still wanting to spend some time together before you leave for the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Buck loves cooking, so on nights where you both are home he'll cook a nice meal for you, sometimes letting you help. After dinner you'll both get into your comfy clothes, ready to spend the night winding down. We all know Buck loves learning new things, and has an unending amount of fun facts up his sleeve, so he loves to curl up on the couch with you and watch shows about his current hyper fixation.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I think he'll reveal things slowly to you. He's not necessarily hiding it, he just brings it up as it comes up naturally in conversation. I think he also tends to reveal the more traumatic things about himself randomly, leaving you looking at him with your jaw dropped, unsure of what to say. He looks at you sheepishly, shrugging softly as you regain your composure, pulling him in for a hug/kiss before you let him explain, if he wishes to.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I think with you he has a lot of patience, but it also depends on what exactly it's about. If it's about your wellbeing he would definitely get upset quickly if you were brushing off your wellbeing in favour of work/other people/etc, but I think a lot of the time he tries not to get too worked up. Communication is very important to him, so rather than getting upset over small things, he chooses to have an in depth conversation about anything you may disagree about.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers a lot about you. It's like memorizing the silly topics he researches. He wants to know everything there is to know about you. He remembers a lot of little things, like your favourite flowers, or how you hate when people chew with their mouth open. He also knows you though, so a lot of the time, if he can't really remember something, he knows you well enough to take a guess and be mostly right. Your favourite snack slips his mind when he's getting groceries? He knows if you usually reach for sweet or salty, and he knows generally what you like, so if he had to guess, it would be one of your favourite snacks, at least.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favourite memory is the first time you spent the night at his place. When you woke up in his arms you looked so happy, eyes still full of sleep and hair a bit of a mess, but he thought you looked so pretty. You stayed in bed for a while, content in just being close to each other, exchanging soft kisses and giggles, before you got up. He wanted to show off his cooking skills, so he made your favourite breakfast, and you looked so happy at his kitchen table, like you belonged. He also noticed how you were a little bit surprised by his actions, not used to this treatment from other men from your past, and he vowed that he was gonna treat you so well that you would forget all about the way you've been treated by your exes.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is extremely protective of everyone in his life. If he had to choose to put himself into a dangerous situation versus you, he would choose himself in a heartbeat. I think in situations that are less life or death, he'd still be very protective, not wanting anything to happen to you. I don't think he'd be protective in an overbearing way, but he would want to make sure that you weren't in any kind of danger that he could've prevented.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in SO MUCH EFFORT!!! I don't think he puts in a ton of effort for every single date, sometimes just opting for a nice night in or something more lowkey, but if he wants to, he will do anything to make you feel special. I think he puts in a lot of effort into most aspects of a relationship: gift giving, communication, etc.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Sometimes, when he's trying to get one of Bobby's recipes right, and he's feeling a little frustrated about it, he'll flop down on the couch instead of cleaning up the kitchen. You walk into the house, eyes falling on the dishes and food all over the counters, looking over at Buck, who smiles innocently. He comes over to you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses you softly, which works in trying to get your mind off of it. He knows the disastrous kitchen drives you crazy, and he will get to it eventually, but sometimes he doesn't wanna get to it right away.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He puts in a fair amount of effort. He clearly works out, and enjoys being in as good a shape as he can be, but he also takes the time to look put together when he's in public. At home he cares less about looking perfect, but he still cares.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

This man YEARNS for a partner that he can experience life with. I think when he meets the right person he will definitely feel like a weight is lifted off his shoulders, realizing how good sharing a life with you is. While he does think it's important for you two to have lives outside of the relationship (your own friends and hobbies), he loves to have someone to come home to at the end of the day and know that he has someone rooting for him and vice versa. While he doesn’t necessarily feel incomplete without a relationship, he definitely thinks you bring out a side of him that he likes.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

HEAR ME OUT!

This man LOVES to be pampered!!! If you ever wanna have a little spa night with him, he is agreeing so fast. He'll let you wash his hair while you take a shower, he'll sit there while you put a face mask on him, and then he'll lay there while you massage his back, and he'll of course return the favour. He eats up all the attention you give him, and he loves how refreshed he feels after your little spa night. He'll feel so relaxed and would have the best sleep of his life with you wrapped in his arms after.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I feel like he hates it when people are late. The odd time, fine. He can’t blame you if you lose track of time or run into traffic. But if someone is consistently late, he can’t help but get that feeling that it’s because they don’t wanna be there, or that they don’t care about him. In his words, he is always the one that watches others leave, and being late makes him feel a little bit like someone leaving him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

We all know this man SNORES, which you were surprised about at first. How can this peaceful looking little guy be so goddamn loud?? It takes a while to get used to, but after a while, it becomes a little comforting. On nights that he's not sleeping beside you, it feels a little too quiet. He's also a big cuddle bug, he loves feeling you pressed up against him when he goes to sleep, knowing you're so close to him. If he woke up in the middle of the night and had somehow gotten out of his grip he'd be moving over beside you, draping an arm over your soft tummy before passing back out again.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

[rinachains]

this is a life

wc: 4.7k

contents: no curses au; geto x fem!reader; angst, fluff; brief mention of diets, implied child abuse; mental illness, smoking, alcohol consumption; reader is in an established relationship with someone else, geto is an elementary school teacher; he's lowkey giving reader a therapy session here; very loosely inspired by *that* scene from fleabag

a/n: this turned out way longer than i originally planned, lol. comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! divider credits: @/saradika

“And guess what happened after that?”

The woman across from you leans against the table, all eyes on her, waiting for a big reveal.

“She thought he was her friend’s father and not her boyfriend!”

Laughter erupts, a song of shrieks and booming echoes, and in the midst of it all, you sit with your mouth shut, wondering if their reaction is a product of consumed alcohol or an inside joke you weren't allowed in on.

Your boyfriend puts his hand on your knee – nearly slaps it – as his body shakes from laughing, swiftly glancing towards you.

You meet him with a strained smile.

“We’re talking about an old classmate,” he explains to you between labored breaths after he calms down.

“Ah, really?”, you say, dryly. Your voice is distant, lacking the interest he was hoping you’d respond with.

The red wine you’re sipping – an expensive one that your boyfriend specifically bought for this occasion – leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you believe it might etch your tongue away. You don’t like red wine, or any alcohol in general – you drink it more out of obligation than out of true enjoyment. It always leaves you with a wave of nausea the next day, no matter how much or how little you consume. There was at least the hope that the alcohol would loosen the tension in your body, make you open up; however, to your luck, it appears to have the opposite effect.

You’ve never been more aware of your body and your surroundings before; the clatter of dishes and the breaths you take through your nose ring in your ears.

There are only five people at this table; your boyfriend and his three friends from his old university days. And you.

You’re already familiar with two of them, but the third one, the other man sitting to your right – Suguru Geto – is someone you’ve just met for the first time tonight.

(‘By the way, another friend of mine will join us tonight,’ your boyfriend told you this morning as you got ready for work

You held back a tired sigh.

‘Another friend from university?’

‘Yep. Suguru Geto is his name. Cool guy, pretty close friend, we used to hang out a lot. He recently just started working as an elementary school teacher. Good for him, I guess,’ he explained as he buttoned up his shirt.

You didn’t miss how his tone dripped with the slightest bit of condescension when he said that last part.)

“By the way, my cousin dropped his new major,” his other friend says between bites, as he chews messy.

The noise makes your skin crawl.

"Again? Didn't he say this major was going to be 'the one'?" your boyfriend scoffs. 

"Yeah, some people just don't have a plan in life, it's kind of pathetic. Right?"

For some reason, his friend decides to look at you for confirmation. You don't respond, and your boyfriend puts his hand over yours before things get uncomfortable.

"Excuse her, she's just a bit shy."  

He laughs, again. The other two join in. Geto doesn't.

I'm not, you want to say. Your boyfriend always says that you're shy, but you're just quiet, more reserved, and he just keeps mistaking your reserved nature for shyness. You hate it; you feel the need to defend yourself, but you'd feel like a child, annoyed by your parent and overreacting.

However, he does talk about you as if you were his child or his pet, reluctant to interact with other people, still learning what it means to socialize properly, and he guides you on your shaky legs.

It’s no big deal, the voice in the back of your head whispers, you should be more grateful.

Yet you’re dealing with a clash of gratitude and buried guilt; guilt for that hidden monster of resentment that lurks somewhere deep inside of you, underneath the muscle tissue and ribs, waiting for the perfect moment to burst forth, tear through your body and cause terror.

It’s easier to blame this feeling on your inferiority complex - after all, you are your own worst enemy.

Your boyfriend leans in from his seat next to you, his lips brushing your ear as he mutters, “Let’s relax, okay? Tonight’s going pretty good so far.”

“Right,” you mouth back. Your voice not strong enough to vocalize that singular word. You try to muster an enthusiastic smile, you really do, but the corners of your mouth seem stuck, unwilling to rise any higher. They ache, and your cheeks begin to cramp. Your boyfriend gives you a sloppy kiss on the cheek – seemingly pleased with your response - before resuming his conversation about the past.

(they do a lot of talking about the past while you try to remove its bonds from your hands and feet.)

As your boyfriend turns away from you, you sense a tingling sensation, burning into the side of your face. Discreetly, you try to peer out of the corner of your right eye, only to be met with a piercing stare from Geto. You freeze, like a deer caught in the headlight, even though he’s the one who’s been caught. He leans further back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, not breaking eye contact. You avert your gaze after what feels like minutes.

A feeling of awkwardness rushes through your body as you take another sip of your drink.

What’s his problem? Did he hear what your boyfriend whispered to you?

Ignore it, the voice says again. So you do. Or at least you attempt to.

Despite your aversion to alcohol, your glass empties quickly, so you have a second, and before you know it, you're on your third.

The others continue to discuss their jobs, finances, families, future plans, politics - this is what normal, functioning people must talk about, you muse as you swallow a big gulp.

Once a layer of fog has settled over your vision, you realize the effect everything has on your body - it's as if you're not quite here.

You're in your apartment, the place where you live, at the table where you eat every day, and yet somehow you feel as if the place you're sitting in is reserved for someone else. An intruder - maybe that's what you are for tonight.

(but is it really just for tonight?)

You sit there, taking in the spectacle around you, until the image in front of you begins to swim, a blur of colors and shapes; now you're a background character, nameless and following the instructions of the script, watching the main characters interact - with their lively attitudes, ambitions and achievements, and overly complicated problems - while you do as little as possible. Your only purpose is to emphasize how important and memorable they are. Easily replaceable. Not worth paying attention to, not worth remembering; what a cruel role.

Then, with a painful blink, you're back in reality. But you realize that it wasn't some oddly vivid dream and that you weren't actually transported to another reality - you were here, at this table, in this seat, all along.

"Yes, I'm currently following this diet and workout plan," one of your boyfriend’s friends announces with an exaggerated sigh, and she quickly turns to you, giving you a half nod, "if you want, I can give you some details about it."

The look you give her is blank. Your raised glass lingers against your lips as you are about to take a sip.

Before you have a chance to answer this time, she turns back to the others and babbles on about some other topic.

You put the half-filled glass back on the table, your thirst now gone.  

"Ahh, I really don’t know how you can stand being around children every day, Suguru. I almost lost my mind watching my niece for only three hours!", she practically whines as she addresses the man next to you.

Geto answers with a chuckle, though it sounds strangely empty, as if something is missing.

"I also deal with a lot of adults, you know, other teachers and parents. And I can say that there isn't much difference between them,” he replies, “At least children don't know any better yet. Adults, however, choose not to do anything about their lack of…competence."

Again, a repeated round of laughter. Geto wears a mere placid smile.

"You’re not wrong, you’re not wrong. God, some of our clients are so incompetent, I sometimes wonder how they’ve made it this far in life.”

In the last two hours, you’ve learned: Geto isn’t particularly talkative, at least compared to the others.

However, he seems fine with it, sipping his drink unhurriedly and responding smoothly when spoken to. He exudes a confidence and carries a casual demeanor that a small part of you can't help but envy, for how often do you wish you weren't the way you are?

So you just sit there, lost in your own thoughts, accepting defeat for the situation you're stuck in.

“Have you heard about–“

Another clink.

“No way, that’s actually sad–“

Another loud chew.

“Guess who decided to contact-“

Another giggle.

At this point, the conversations have turned into a hectic game of tennis, the ball going back and forth between them, and you’re trying to follow it, maybe even graze it with your fingertips, but you can’t seem to catch it, it’s too fast, too-

"So, what do you do?"

You blink. Once, and then twice.

You turn your head to the right; Geto’s eyes are focused on you.

They're purple, a deep, gem-like shade, you note. You’ve never seen eyes like his before.  

His brows raise slightly and you realize that he’s expecting an answer.

"I…I work in a library. And I write. Or, well, at least I'm currently trying to."

A grin tugs at his lips; saccharine and foxy. For a moment, you fear he might eat you alive.

You’re not even aware that the other three have halted their conversation and are now paying attention to you and Geto.

"Oh? What are you planning to write? If you don't mind me asking."

You don't.

"Just a bunch of short stories," you answer with a shrug as you pick at the skin around your nails, "A big story is kind of intimidating, to be honest. I want to start small, it’s easier that way and I don’t have to put all my focus on one idea..."

Your voice loses its volume towards the end - a force of habit. Geto tilts his head and you believe to see a small frown appear for a second before it vanishes quickly. Replaced by his thin smile.

He shifts his body towards you, cheek resting against his fist. A flutter of his long lashes.

"You know, I once considered writing a book too.”

One of your brows lifts in wonder, "Really?"

“Hmh. A children’s book – for my students.”

“Are you still considering it?”

“I haven’t had the time for that yet, so I haven’t really done something for it.”

“Maybe you should have a mental breakdown too. ‘Gives you enough time to get real creative.”

Of course, right in this moment, your tongue decides to get loose. Surprise flashes across Geto’s features, clearly caught off guard, and you hear your boyfriend inhale sharply. You don’t even have to face the other two to know that they exchange looks.

What you said is wrong. It's always either right or wrong, right or wrong, and your teeth grit together, because why can't you just simply say things without them being right or wrong?

Suddenly, a low, muffled chortle reaches your ears. It grows louder, bordering on a genuine laugh, and you stare silently at the man next to you, the source of the sound.

Geto’s eyes form into crescent moons, and you become a shooting star, seen by chance, admired for the special moment you provide.

“I think I’ll pass. But many famous writers did create their works during hard times.”

You scratch along your neck, unsure of what to do with your fidgeting hands.

He continues, "Maybe we should switch roles for a day - I'll try writing and you can try teaching my class."

"Ah, I could never be a teacher, I'm not patient enough, I'm afraid," you say sheepishly, the tension in your face softening.

"I admit it's not always easy, but it's worth it to see the result of your patience. Besides, I had some practice before I started my job."

Your mouth opens, ready to ask another question, but then your boyfriend places an arm around your shoulder and squeezes it hard, as if he’s warning you. You have to stifle a yelp, his fingers digging a little too deeply into your skin.

“Maybe you should go easy on the wine, huh, babe?”

The thought of shaking his hand off flashes through your mind, but your body doesn't listen. Instead, you allow his grip to remain until he withdraws of his own accord.

His face screams jealousy – and maybe he is jealous, but he probably just wants everyone, including himself, to think he’s a protective and possessive boyfriend. He doesn’t have enough care in him for that.  

You used to believe that he did. Or at least you told yourself that – because he was the one who has pulled you out of the deep hole you were stuck in.  

He was the one who shook you awake and made you stare at yourself from a third-person perspective - and all that ran through your head was the word 'pathetic'.

Almost two years ago, you dropped out of university. You were at your lowest point, your mental health non-existent, and you had nothing and no one. And out of the blue, he showed up - with his sweet words and boyish charm. You had never received attention before, and suddenly there was someone, this handsome man, showering you with it.

He embodies the definition of ‘normal’, an average man - not someone with a dark past, a tortured artist, or a menace to society. He oozes the stability you needed during that time.

But you couldn't do anything about the doubts you had from the beginning of your relationship, because why would a man like him be with someone, a nobody, like you?

Sometimes he'd give you disappointed looks when you did something you usually did instead of what he thought was better. Sometimes being with him made you even more aware of what was wrong with you. Sometimes the normalcy you so desperately seek makes you feel like an abnormality.

You couldn't help but see him as your savior, someone who has achieved something so painfully average that you could only dream of. And he gives you that normalcy - at least you're on your way to it. However, the path seems endless, littered with ditches and spikes and numerous other obstacles that make you reluctant to continue.

Perhaps he thought of you as a fruit, not yet ripe, attracted by the potential sweetness, able to satisfy a certain hunger. But every fruit eventually begins to rot, no longer edible, and quickly discarded.

‘I don't deserve this,’ you told him once as you packed your things to move into your new shared apartment.

(one he'd picked out, claiming it was perfect for both of you).

Your confession tasted like honey in his mouth. He just gave you a little grin, nothing too big, so as not to show how his pride was swelling in his chest.

He didn't disagree with you.

After a few minutes, you feel a familiar itch in your hand. You start to get up, your boyfriend gives you a questioning look and you nod towards the balcony. He eyes you with disapproval, but you grab your jacket before you can change your mind and comply.

Every time you smoke in his presence, his nose wrinkles in disgust and words of complaint come out of his mouth. You’d take it more seriously if he didn't smoke himself.

Once outside, you put on your jacket and sit down in front of the steel bars of your balcony, next to some empty flower pots.

You haven't done anything, but you're exhausted.

The cool breeze on your face reminds you of drinking a cold glass of water after waking up in the middle of the night. The pain in your head is simmering.

The nicotine intensifies the bitterness in your dry mouth as you pull out a cigarette and take a long, long drag. A light, pleasant burn that awakens your senses in a non-overwhelming way, sobering you up a bit. Your shoulders slump, a pleasant shiver runs through your body. You needed this.

The sound of the balcony door opening makes you jump, the cigarette between your fingers almost falling down. You turn your head over your shoulder, expecting to see your boyfriend, preparing yourself for a scolding; but it's Geto. You can't tell if the emotion boiling in your chest is disappointment or relief - at this point, they've merged.

“I hope you don’t mind the company.”

You shake your head. Not too eagerly, you remind yourself.

One corner of his mouth lifts up, his gaze sweeping discreetly over you without you taking note of it, and he places himself on the other end.

There’s a good distance – intentionally - between the two of you, neither of you daring to cross it. A wall, set in stone, and the temptation of climbing it to peer over the edge lingers in the back of your head.

“Are you enjoying dinner?”, you ask him, scratching your cheek with your nail. You suppose that’s what a good host does.

Something you can’t quite identify glints in his eyes, and you can tell that he’s suppressing a chuckle. You feel the tips of your ears warming.

“I am. It’s more entertaining than I expected.”

You raise your brow at his answer.

"Hmh?" you see him pulling out a lighter and gesture to your pack of cigarettes, "Oh, you want one too?"

Geto dismissively waves his hand and takes his own pack out of the pockets of his black coat, "No need, I have my own.”

The way he lights the cigarette and brings it up to his lips paints a graceful picture, a fluid sequence of quick, minimal movements, and you can’t bring yourself to avert your stare.

He's handsome, you think. A unique but pleasant kind of beauty, a mixture of feminine and masculine features. This thought came to you the first time he appeared in your vision; you could admit it, but you don't allow your thoughts to go any further. You can't tell if it's out of compulsion or out of respect for your partner.

As he blows out the smoke, he says, "To get back to what I said: I wasn't sure what to expect tonight. The thing is, I'm not, or wasn't, that close to your boyfriend, so I was surprised when he invited me... I guess some people just have different perceptions.”

“He claimed you’re his friend,” you retort, confusion laced in your voice.

“Then he must have a lot of them, if that’s all it takes.”

You press your lips together, swallowing the grin that threatens to break across your face.

Geto clears his throat, "I was surprised to meet you, though.”

You cock your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

The expression he carries is a strange combination of hesitation and determination, "He didn’t mention you when he invited me."

Oh. Right.

"He hasn't?"

The answer is written on his face, you don’t need another verbal confirmation. 

Your back straightens, your shoulder rolls back as you exhale heavily.

"I mean, why would he? It's not something he has to say."

You don't know why you're defending him. Maybe it's because you want to defend yourself, too.

"I just find it interesting that he didn't tell me about you when he invited me. I mean, if I invited someone to my house for dinner, I would definitely mention my partner. But maybe we have different views on that.”

Your headache begins to return.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say instead of lingering on the subject, trying to distract from it, eyes flickering between his face and the balcony railing, “back there. You mentioned something about already having practice before becoming a teacher.”

At that, his face brightens subtly, something you’re able to catch in the dim lighting. He sits up and brushes a silky strand of hair from his face.

“I did. I adopted two daughters before I started working there – Mimiko and Nanako are their names.”  

“Those are pretty names,” you say, hiding your surprise at the fact that he’s an adoptive father – seems like your boyfriend truly isn’t that close to him, “not that there’s anything wrong with it, but why did you decide to adopt them?"

"I interned at an elementary school before I knew what I wanted to do. It was fun, exhausting, but I learned a lot. But it was there that I noticed something wasn't quite right," Geto tells, a frown beginning to appear, "there were these girls - well, they're my little girls now. Mimiko and Nanako were quiet, well-behaved, but too docile for my taste. I found it strange, and when I asked around, the other teachers just told me to be happy about it, that it's a good thing. But then I started noticing the bruises on their arms and the way they would flinch when someone got too close or raised their hand. You can probably guess what that means.”

You swallow, subconsciously mirroring his frown.

"Anyway, I reached out to them and although it took some time, they finally opened up to me and told me everything. I went to the police and luckily they took action and got them out of that hellhole," the words spit from his tongue like venom and you're not sure if the sickness in your stomach is from the alcohol or what he just told you.

“How old were you?”

“I was 17 at the time.”

The way your eyes grow in size and your brows shoot up must be a comical sight for him.  

“17? That’s so young!”

“It is. But it felt like the right thing to do,” he runs his hand through his dark locks, an exhaustion that is more than familiar to you, "I mean, I couldn't take them in right away because I was a minor. They put the girls in a children's home where I visited them regularly. When I turned 18, I didn't wait a second to sign the adoption papers."

Your lips purse, "It must have been a complicated process."

His eyebrows draw together, a melancholy weariness settling over his sharp features, "Oh, it was. I came pretty close to losing my mind. But it was all worth it; if I had to, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."

The way Geto talks is soothing. Comforting, like a blanket being laid over your shivering body, and you sink into it, relishing the warmth it provides.

“You really are a good person, Geto.”

He leans his head back against the wall, “Funnily enough, you’re the first person to tell me this. Most gave me weird looks for it. Even my friends berated me for being too impulsive, but I couldn’t do nothing.”

“It’s admirable. And other people’s judgement doesn’t have to be the final one,” you say, pointedly, “…So that’s why you decided to become a teacher, huh?”

He nods, “I believe it’s our responsibility to teach children everything. Not only the basic subjects, but also how to behave, how to socialize. And how to ask for help.”

You wonder what Geto would have done if he had met you during that time. Would he have helped you? Would he have given you words of encouragement, taken care of you?

Without even closing your eyes, you can picture him in his classroom, drawings and inspirational quotes adorning the colorful walls. He stands behind his desk, greeting his students with a gentle, welcoming smile, laughing softly at their antics, answering questions with ease, giving praise when someone gives a correct answer, motivating a student when he notices their grades improving.

You'd have enjoyed to go school with someone like Geto as your teacher.

"I'm not sure if I could ever do something like that,” you admit.

"That's okay. We all have our own roles in life. I simply chose this one."

Are you happy with the role you've chosen? With the change you have made? Or have you inadvertently dug yourself a deeper hole instead of getting out of it?

"Do you ever regret your choice?"

"Of course I have tried to imagine how different my life could have been if I had made a different choice. But there's no point in dwelling on that - I chose what felt right, and looking back would do me more harm than good," Geto points at you with his chin, “how did you end up working in a library?" he asks you now, with no hint of judgment or disdain in his deep voice. Just pure curiosity. 

You don't, can't, answer directly. Coming up with an appropriate answer while your mind is still clouded by alcohol proves to be a difficult task.

“I also studied at a university“, you start, carefully. “Medicine. That’s what I studied.”

He waits patiently, giving you time to figure out what you want to say.

“I stopped last year,” you continue. ‘Stopped’ – what a great euphemism for ‘gave up’', “I realized it wasn’t for me. I didn’t do anything for a while, and then finally got a job at the library. It’s only a side job, though.”

Talking about it – even solely scratching the surface -creates a lump in your throat.

“Is that what your joke was about?”, he muses. You mumble a quiet ‘yes’. Geto hums, seeming to be deep in thought.

"There's nothing wrong with starting over," Geto eventually proclaims into the night, and you follow his words, "If you ask me, it's stupid to choose just one path in your early years and then think you have to stick to it for the rest of your life. We've only lived a small part of our lives so far, so why not consider trying other paths? Ones that also promise less suffering."

You nod, slowly. Let the weight of his words sink in, absorb into your body and mind.

“But how do I know which path is right and which one is wrong?”

This time, he lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Well, you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no such thing as a wrong or a right path – you can learn something from every path you take, even if you think you’ve failed.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, a white cloud appearing in the cold air before you, only to dissipate in a few seconds.

“I guess you’re right.”

"I know," he smirks, and you let out an amused snort. Then, "Perhaps you should try a different path. One that is the opposite of what most people choose and expect. You might find some peace in a place that is not so crowded".

You have to say something back, something good, but you're too stunned to express any of the thoughts and emotions running through your head. 

"Do you regret stopping your studies?", Geto breaks the brief moment of silence.

Teeth dig into the inside of your cheek.

"I don't think so."

"Then I'm happy for you. Do something with that."

You find something swirling in those purple shades that you have been looking for so desperately, fruitlessly in your partner: understanding.

You don’t know what to do with it.

As Geto finishes his cigarette, he glances back at the door before turning back to you.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

A strong gust of wind rustles through the air, a whistling sound from the night sky, like a siren alarming you.

You listen to it.

“…Let’s wait a little longer.”

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

What a bore

AN: Beginning the birthday festivities with ChanCheol. I had a more ambitious birthday fic in mind but, figuring out the logistics of sex with six men was a nightmare lol so, I settled on the top two for this year. Maybe I'll tackle the whole line next year.

Synopsis: Your coworkers are mostly palatable people, really, they are. Except for Yoon Jeonghan, who has quickly become the bane of your existence in the months since you've transferred. He thinks you don't do anything beyond work and stay in your apartment, and he has no problem telling you that. You're more than happy to prove him wrong with the help of your willing coworkers: Seungcheol and Chan.

General tags and warnings: Choi Seungcheol x Fem! Reader x Lee Chan, Non-Idol AU, coworkers to coworkers who fuck, they all work within a company with a pretty prominent drinking culture so, alcohol and alcohol consumption and Jeonghan is an asshole in this (there are elements of peer pressure and he's pretty passive-aggressive but, he does get somewhat better).

Smut tags: petnames, not exactly sex in an elevator, but there are moments of Chan and Reader getting hot and heavy in an elevator, they all have sex after drinking (no one is drunk, and everything is consensual), dirty talk, possessiveness if you squint, praise, nipple play (f. receiving), strength kink if you squint, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), overstimulation (f. receiving), Seungcheol licks Chan's fingers, piv sex without a condom, hair pulling, mild degradation, objectification if you squint, creampies, manhandling and aftercare.

Word count: 12.3K (*clown noises*)

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Thursdays, typically, are days you don't care for. They're a stepping stone to the true hero of the week: Fridays. However, at Martinz, you've come to learn over the course of your past two months here, Thursdays were the best day of the week. It's in the way everyone glances at the clock, waiting for 17:00 to roll around. Almost everyone in the office practically jumping out of their poorly supported chairs as soon as the clock strikes. Hurriedly tugging on their jackets and making their way Jun's for drinks on the company's dime. 

You've opted out since you've started here. Not really seeing the appeal in getting drunk with your coworkers when you still need to report for work the next morning. Especially knowing you don't exactly have the same tolerance you did when you were much, much younger. You're more than content to spend your Thursday nights bundled under your favourite blanket and catching up on your shows for the week. 

Seungcheol, Chan and Jeonghan always extend an invitation without fail. Two sets of pleading eyes begging you to join them for the night while one is knowing but, he extends an invitation along with your other two coworkers nonetheless. You always decline. Appreciating their desire to include you but, you've never really been the type to interact with the people you work with more than necessary. It's how you operated at all of your previous jobs so, you don't see why anything would be any different here. 

Seungcheol and Chan are understanding. To the point where guilt does twist up your insides a little but, their megawatt smiles help assuage any of it. Jeonghan, however, is not one to let things go easily as you've come to learn. 

"Oh, going straight home again?" He asks while the four of you pack away your items for the night, his eyebrow raised as he observes you over the wooden dividers between your desks. Frankly, they should be higher in your opinion. You enjoyed the sight of the stunning man when you first started but, now his smug face and permanently raised eyebrow grate your nerves in a way that would be impressive if he wasn't so aggravating. 

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol interjects, shooting you an apologetic look on the other man's behalf. Sometimes, you don't understand how someone as kind as Seungcheol can put up with him but, the two men are practically two peas in a pod. From your peripheral, you can see Chan shuffle uncomfortably in his seat. Not that you blame him. This is why you try to not interact with Jeonghan more than strictly necessary. The tension grows to uncomfortable levels even for you sometimes but, you have always been stubborn, as your best friend, Seungkwan, is fond of reminding you. 

"What?" Jeonghan asks Seungcheol in a way that masquerades as innocent, "I'm merely making polite conversation with our colleague. That's all," he finishes, shooting you a look as though he's seriously waiting for you to answer his question when all four of you can likely recite your answer by heart by now. 

"Yes, Jeonghan. I'm going home," you grit out, your fingernails digging into the faux leather material of your bag. Your jaw only clenching further when a grin speards across his face. It's all venom and, all three of you seem to brace yourselves for the words that leave his mouth next, 

"Oh, of course. I suppose I should expect that from you. You are the more reserved type, after all."

You'll never admit it but, those words echo throughout your head all the way to your apartment. They remain in your mind and play on repeat while you change into your pajamas, order dinner for yourself and settle onto your couch. They continue to haunt you even during your attempt to distract yourself with trash reality television. You know yourself. You have no issues with the person you are. You're not going to let some asshole who hasn't even known you for three months rattle your self-image. You know how to have fun and enjoy yourself. That part of yourself just isn't any of your coworkers' business. Separating work and fun is a philosophy that has saved you from many headaches and much drama over the years. Jeonghan doesn't know shit. 

Even with those assertions, it's difficult to forget his words for longer than you care to admit. 

Thursday rolls around once more. You can already feel the migraine building behind your eyes when Jeonghan looks at you. Seungcheol and Chan, for their parts, choose to focus on their computers. You know they aren't actually working on any sales. They both have the subtlety of an elephant hiding behind a telephone pole. You do understand their lack of willingness to involve themselves unless Jeonghan pushes too far. Which you don't think will take him all that long. 

"So, will you be joining us tonight?" He asks with that knowing smirk you want to wipe off of his face. His face resting in his hand while he waits for you to answer. 

"Jeongha-"

"Don't you have work to do, Jeonghan? Is all you think about going out for drinks?" You ask with a faux curious tilt of your head, the saccharine tone of your voice does not go unnoticed by the three men. Seungcheol looks surprised that you not only cut him off from pulling the other man back in line but, that you responded to him at all. You suppose you've finally had enough. Being the bigger person gets exhausting very, very quickly. 

Jeonghan looks intrigued by your response. Opting to bite, he says, "I finished my work over an hour ago. Plus, it's almost time to close up for the day anyways. I simply know how to balance work and enjoying myself. Perhaps you should take some notes out of my book," he finishes with a glint in his eyes. 

What a fucking dick. 

"You know what? Yes, I will be joining everyone for drinks tonight. I think I've earned it after how grating this week has been," you respond and maybe you feel too smug for your own good that surprise colours his face for a moment. However, Jeonghan being Jeonghan, it disappears nearly as quickly as it morphed onto his face. 

"Hey, you know you don't have to come. Jeonghan's just being a dick," Chan chimes in, shooting you a reassuring look. Jeonghan pouts dramatically at being referred to as a dick but, he doesn't refute Chan's assertion. Given how he's treated you, he seems to have the self-awareness to know better. 

"Yeah, we know not it's not for everyone. Hell, Jihoon maybe comes out like three times a year and, one of those is for his birthday," Seungcheol adds, big, warm, brown eyes looking at you softly. His full lips spreading in a smile that's meant to soothe the tension in the air. You appreciate the two of them. Honestly, they've been far kinder than you than you probably deserve but, this isn't about them right now. 

"No, I want to. Don't worry. I'm curious to see what the excitement is about since Jeonghan can never quite stop talking about it," you respond with a miniscule upturn of your own lips. It's not much but, you hope it's enough to ease any concerns the two men have. They exchange a glance with each other while Jeonghan smiles with far too many teeth and his head resting in his hand, 

"This'll be interesting."

Anxiety simmers in your bloodstream as you join your hoard of coworkers at Jun's. It's not a massive bar by any means but, you think you understand why it's become the go-to spot rather than anywhere else around your offices as soon as you step through the door. The atmosphere instantly feels welcoming, a stunning, giant of a man who you learn is named Mingyu greeting you all as you flow through the entrance. The booths and tables are quickly filled by the people from your office and, you scan the area looking for a place to sit that isn't outside or close to the bathrooms. 

"Come on," Seungcheol says with a gentle nudge to your shoulder, the smile he gives you under the lowlighting of the bar heats your system in a way you think would be unwise to dissect right now, "We usually sit in booth number 8. We kind of have unofficial dibs on it," he says with a chuckle and you see Chan nod in agreement. Jeonghan doesn't say much, much to your surprise, as the four of you settle yourself into your seats.

Chan sits beside you while Seungcheol and Jeonghan opt to sit next to each other and across from the two of you. Shrugging off your coat, you briefly wonder if it would've caused you less of a headache to sit next to Jeonghan instead of looking at him for the entire night but, Chan's presence next to you is more than welcome. Plus, you can just look at Seungcheol instead, which isn't a terrible alternative. Not in the slightest. 

"So, what would you guys recommend?" You ask in an attempt to crawl out of the shell you've crafted for yourself. You may have come out tonight mostly to spite your dick of a coworker but, you aren't opposed to having a decent time with your other coworkers. Plus, free alcohol and food are offers you know better than to say no to. Your parents would be disappointed in you otherwise. 

"The soju here is really good," Seungcheol pipes up, glancing up at you over his menu. "The beer's great too," Chan says with a smile that disarms you a little seeing it so up close. Heat rushes to your face and you hide your face in your own menu, pretending to scan the items while you use the time to calm yourself down a little. Really? Getting flustered just because you're with your, admittedly, good-looking coworkers outside of work? Good lord. Get a grip. 

"I'm going to be honest, I think beer is kinda gross," you say sheepishly and you nearly laugh at the affronted looks on both Seungcheol and Chan's faces. Hell, even Jeonghan cracks a smile that you'd consider a smidge genuine. 

"Beer isn't gross," the older man protests with a pout that you're not used to seeing on his handsome face. It suits him. You wonder if you'd see it more if you came out with them. Maybe it makes itself known more outside of the confines of the office. 

"Yeah, you've probably just had shitty beer," Chan argues with a nod so assertive you're a little worried he might hit his head hard on the back of the seat in your booth. You giggle at the two men nonetheless. Clearly your coworkers are avid beer drinkers and defenders. 

"Or, consider, that beer just sucks," you argue with a smile and you have to bite back a laugh at the sincerely affronted looks the two men send your way, "Soju is okay. It's a little too bitter for my liking but, I don't mind it. But hey, why are you guys drinking soju on a Thursday?" 

"Maybe because we're not killjoys and we can handle our alcohol," Jeonghan finally pipes up. You knew it was too good to be true. You knew you couldn't just have a decent night out with this man in your presence. The somewhat pleasant atmosphere that the three of you have managed to create is completely evaporated by Jeonghan's commentary and, you wonder if he's just like this or only like this because you're out with them tonight. 

"Anyways," you continue on, choosing not to rise to his bait this time and scanning the various alcoholic beverages that span the menu, "I think I'm going to order a glass of red wine. I'm a bit of a lightweight too so, that should be a safe option," you say with a small smile to directed to the two other men in the booth, "I'll probably also get some fries because drinking alcohol on an empty stomach is no-no I learned the hard way." 

"Wait, how'd you learn that lesson?" Chan asks, an amused smirk spreading across his handsome face while he glances at you. Seungcheol looks curious about that particularly story too. You're not sure if they're desperate to avoid you and Jeonghan spitting venom at one another or sincerely curious but, you indulge them nonetheless. 

That's how you tell them about one night in your second year of university where you and Seungkwan were short on cash but, wanted a night out. The semester had been kicking your asses and you two thought you'd earned a night of flirting with cute boys and taking shots of tequila. So, pooling the little money you two had, you spent it all on and drinks and nothing else. Being too young and dumb and desperate for a good time to think about having dinner before hitting the clubs. Suffice it to say, you two paid handsomely for your choices. 

Seungcheol and Chan remain invested throughout your story. Hiding their laughter in their mugs of beer that were set on your table along with your wine while you regaled them with the tales of your time in university. At times, electing to laugh out loud freely. Both of their laughs triggering giggles of your own. Embers of fondness flickering inside of you watching their faces contort with joy and, drinking in the way Seungcheol's dimples soften his face and the spread of Chan's smile adds to his already magnetic draw. Jeonghan only sneaks in a few jabs. Perhaps the alcohol is mellowing him out a little, his remarks not enough to distract you from the, surprisingly, good time you're having with your other two coworkers. 

"Wait, he paid you to chug your beer in under three minutes? And you actually agreed?" You ask with a loud laugh, taking a generous sip of your second glass of wine. 

"It was the principle of matter!" Seungcheol argues, his beer sloshing in his mug as he juts his hand out to emphasise his conviction, "A little cash didn't hurt too," he finishes off with a laugh, taking a swing from his glass. 

"He did it though, and Soonyoung had to pay up. A lot. It was on him. What kind of idiot bets so much money on someone being able to chug beer?" Chan adds with a snort of his own. 

"Soonyoung apparently," Seungcheol responds with a chuckle. 

"Hey, a win is a win and, it sounds like you got quite the bit of cash out of it," you say with a small smile, warmth blossoming in your cheeks at the boyish, prideful grin Seungcheol shoots your way, "I don't think I have any uni stories about chugging drinks and making bets, unfortunately." 

"Yeah, you don't seem at all like the adventurous type," a voice you'd be thrilled to never hear again chimes in before he smirks that insufferable smirk of his and sips from his own mug of beer. And you've just had it. It's been easy, for the most part, to ignore Jeonghan and focus on your more pleasant and handsome coworkers. However, maybe it's just that you've reached your breaking point or the alcohol flowing through your veins but, your aggravation reaches a fever pitch. 

"What is your problem?" You finally turn to the source of your foul turn in mood, "What have I done to offend you so personally that you've been a pain in my ass since I started working with you? Or does my mere presence just bother you that fucking much?" 

The entire table goes quiet at your outburst. You do feel a little bad about Chan and Seungcheol having to sit through this. For the nth time. However, the man across from Chan is just so insufferable and seems to enjoy needling a reaction out of you. Well, you hope he's satisfied with the one he ripped from you now. 

Jeonghan appears taken aback by your response. His eyes wide and blinking at you while his mouth opens and closes repeatedly. He looks stupid. Good. 

"I was just teasing. It was just some light hazing," he finally manages to spit out but, his answer just adds a generous heap of gasoline to those sparks of irritation in the pit of your gut. 

"Some light hazing? Really? That's all you have to say for yourself? Being a dick to me for months is just some ha ha funny teasing? We all know you're too old to hide behind such a shitty excuse, Jeonghan," you retort with a smirk that likely looks like the ones he's fond of sending your way. More teeth and venom than anything else. His eyes flash then and perhaps you touched a nerve. Whoops. 

"At least I'm not a bore that barely has any social skills," he spits in reply. Really, it's a horribly weak response and you could've easily been the adult here and let it go. Continue pretending he's not here and listening to more of Seungcheol and Chan's stories. You could have done all of that but, you're so tired. 

"You think I'm boring huh?" You ask him with a smile that's far too saccharine, it even hurts your own face with the effort it takes from you. Turning to face Chan, you decide to make a choice. Is it incredibly impulsive? Absolutely. Is it incredibly stupid and reckless? Absolutely. Will it be worth it? Potentially. 

"Chan, do you think I'm boring?" You ask the man with a bat of your eyelashes and a pout on your lips. Chan doesn't even hesitate before he's tumbling over his words to respond to you, "No-no, not at all!" His earnestness is cute, "Don't listen to Jeonghan. He's just being an asshole. His words don't mean jack shit."

"Thank you, Chan. I appreciate it. Really, I do," you respond with a more genuine uptick of your lips before continuing, "If I asked you to kiss me, would you?" 

That causes his eyes to nearly bulge out of their sockets. You don't miss Seungcheol and Jeonghan's noises of surprise either but, you're focused on the younger of the three men at the moment. Typically your nerves would be more on edge but, interestingly, you're calm. Patiently waiting for the blonde to respond to your question while you take another swing from your glass. 

"Are you- are you drunk?" Are the words he's finally able to stutter out, fingers tugging on his tie a little in what you can only assume to be nervousness. 

"Chan, I know I said I was a lightweight but, two glasses of wine aren't enough to completely knock me out of my senses," you reply with a giggle. You likely wouldn't act this way without the liquid in your veins but it acts as a nudge at best. You'll show Jeonghan who's boring. "You don't have to say yes, of course," you assure him, "but, I think you're cute." 

The blush that colours his face only adds to his attractiveness and, to your shock, he nods. You didn't expect him to truly agree to your, frankly, insane suggestion but, he well and truly nodded just now. You shift closer to him and ease your hands onto his handsome face. It's difficult to tell who closes the gap first but, in the grand scheme of things, you don't think it matters all that much. Chan is a good kisser. He might even be great. He presses his lips firmly to your own but, not to the point of being stiff. Any earlier hesitation he had has vanished without a trace. His mouth meeting your own eagerly and with skill that makes you the tiniest bit lightheaded. 

You pull away first. You're not sure how far this would've gone and, you don't want to push your luck here. Cracking your eyes open (when did you close them?), you're greeted with a sight that sends your insides into a tizzy and prompts your thighs to rub together. Chan watches you through lidded eyes, his gaze zeroing in on your freshly kissed lips while he chases every bit of you he can on his lips with his tongue. Easing your hands off of his face, you turn to face the two speechless men. Jeonghan looks like you just shattered his entire world view. Seungcheol, however, looks stunned for an entirely different reason. Perhaps you're projecting but, you're certain you see traces of the look the younger man gave you moments ago reflected in Seungcheol's gaze. Your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes drift to your mouth not so subtly. 

You can't help the smile that's threatening to split your face in half. Men. Predictable. 

"Seungcheol," you drawl in a voice a little foreign to your own ears but, based on the visible shudder you see run over the built man, he doesn't mind the change all that much, "Would you like to kiss me too? Or are you worried I'm just as boring as your colleague over there asserts?" You ask with a faux innocent tilt of your head while you gesture leisurely towards the man beside him who still hasn't said a word. 

Much like Chan, Seungcheol looks like he can't quite believe what you're offering. He exchanges a glance with the other blonde at the table and whatever discussion the two of them have helps him come to an answer. The knots in your insides that were beginning to twist themselves just from kissing Chan grow significantly more complex just from the weight of Seungcheol's gaze and the nod he directs your way. This time, more maneuvering is required on your part but, Seungcheol is more than happy to meet you halfway. This time, his hand reaches across to cup your jaw and you find yourself growing the slightest bit stupid just from the way his thumb drags itself along your skin. 

"For the record, I've never thought you were boring," he mutters before encompassing you in bliss. Seungcheol's lips, you discover very quickly, are just as soft as they look. It doesn't take him long to take the lead in this liplock. Guiding your head just slightest bit so, it's angled exactly how he wants while every brush of his mouth makes you seriously contempt whether you require oxygen at all. You think you could just live off of him instead.

Much to your dismay, he pulls away first and you painfully understand the disappointment Chan felt earlier when you parted from him. You could kiss the two of them for hours, you think. It's your turn to stare at him in a daze and the self-satisfied smirk he shoots at you does horrible, terrible things to your heart and panties. The two of you part after that without much fanfare. The table is deathly silent for a moment while you stare down Jeonghan who still appears to be coming to grips with what just transpired before his very eyes. 

"I suppose you still think I'm a bore who never does anything outside of my comfort zone," you say to him, leaning on your palm and delighting in his inability to respond, maybe a little too much. Seungkwan has always chided you for your affinity for spite. "I hope you don't take offense to my not being interested in kissing you, though."

"Okay, fuck," he finally breaks, dragging an elegant hand over his face in a way that is a far cry from the smug man you've come to know, "I'm sorry. I was being a dick. You didn't deserve any of that. I guess I just felt threatened by you and I was lashing out." 

That bewilders you. A lot. Out of all the reasons for you to earn the ire of Jeonghan, you don't expect that to be his explanation. "Threatened by me? Why?" You finally manage to ask, staring at him like you can't quite believe this is all even real. What the fuck is your life right now? 

"You're the first person in a very long time who's been real competition for me at work," he chooses to ignore Seungcheol and Chan's interjections and huffs of protest, "I didn't think I was a competitive guy until someone who was actually a challenge came around and, I felt threatened. I'm sorry. I know that probably won't cut it for all the jabs and remarks but, I think I owe you that much at the bare minimum."

"You're not the first insecure man I've had to deal with in this line of work and, you won't be the last," you snort, reacquainting yourself with your glass, "Yeah, you'll have to forgive me if it takes me some time to warm up to you but, I do appreciate this being a start. Who knew kissing our coworkers would be the way to get you to be honest?" You muse behind said glass, smiling at the way all three men blush. You can deal with the ethics of all of this tomorrow. 

"I misjudged you," Jeonghan responds with a disbelieving laugh, "I would've never thought you'd do something like this."

"You know what they say about assuming," you retort but, there isn't as much venom in your voice. You suppose you can't be in too foul of a mood after kissing the two men who think they're being subtle with the glances they sneak your way. 

After that, much to everyone's relief, the tension between you and Jeonghan dissipates significantly.

Without being on edge awaiting Jeonghan's next jab, you're more relaxed than you have been since you started working with the men. Laughing freely at his own stories of horrible night outs and last minute submissions from university. Smiling behind your glass when he shares especially embarrassing tales featuring Seungcheol and Chan, much to their dismay. The atmosphere is calming. Sneaking your own glances of the two men under the low light and appreciating the way it creates a halo effect on both of them. Not that they needed much aid with their looks as it is.

You don't fail to notice how Chan's thighs brush against yours or the way Seungcheol's foot accidentally bumps yours underneath the table. Seungkwan's voice chooses now to echo through your skull. His nagging about how you don't think things through before acting on your pettiness being a particular hit with every silent touch, nudge and look between the three of you. The ghosts of their lips haunting you and it's only been a few hours. Maybe you're more fucked than you realised, you think when Seungcheol sends you another brief weighted gaze before drinking from his mug and, Chan chooses then to rest his hand precariously close to your leg. 

"I think I'm going to call it a night," Jeonghan says after a brief but, not unpleasant lull in conversation, "It's getting late and I have a shit tonne to do tomorrow," he finishes with a sigh for dramatics before sliding out of the booth and grabbing his jacket. You don't know him well enough and it might be a trick of the light but, you swear you see his eyes practically twinkling with an emotion very, very close to amusement as he takes his leave. 

"Goodnight, get home safe," you offer in the tentative peace the two of you have built over the evening. He shoots you a smile that almost looks misplaced on his face. This one is much softer than any he's given you before and you think maybe you and Yoon Jeonghan may be begrudging, civil coworkers yet. Seungcheol and Chan provide their own farewells to the man but, otherwise don't make any moves to slip out of the booth along with him. You're not sure what to expect. Part of you assumed they tended to call it a night together but, based on the way they sink into their seats while the other man walks off to hail a cab, your assumptions are misplaced. 

The silence in the booth is deafening and the air feels decidedly tense. Not tense in the way that had become a staple of your interactions with Jeonghan. No, this isn't nearly as awkward and uncomfortable. You'd think the same bravado that had prompted you to kiss the two men who you now remain in the booth with would continue to carry you for the night but, without Jeonghan here, you find your face growing warm with the gazes you know are being leveled at you. Electing, instead, to keep your eyes locked onto your empty glass and ignoring Chan's body heat radiating mere centimetres away from you. 

"So," Seungcheol is the first one to break the silence. Of course, it would be him. Against your better judgement, you glance up at him out of curiosity and you almost instantly regret that decision. His eyes look glazed with what you suspect to be desire but, perhaps that's projection and the wine on your part. However, it's difficult to shake that suspicion when he just keeps looking at you like that. Full lips parted while his eyes scan over your face, lingering on your lips long enough to leave you squirming in your seat and reminding you of the state of your panties, before settling somewhere beneath your neckline. You have eyes. You know Seungcheol is attractive. And knowing, that on some level based on the way he kissed you and the way he is essentially undressing you with his eyes, he thinks you're attractive too is a lot. 

"It's been quite the night," Chan pipes up and you honestly don't know if you have the resolve to look at him right now. You can already feel yourself coming apart at the seams being the focal point of Seungcheol's attention, you don't think you can handle adding Chan into the mix. He's already too close and his cologne has steadily drifted into your space enough to further muddle your brain and turn your throat remarkably dry. "I'm glad you and Jeonghan sorted everything out. Well, sort of," he laughs and that does make you feel lighter. You've always thought Chan had the most endearing laugh, "Plus, we got to see a different side of you tonight too." 

All of the less carnal thoughts you had briefly are quickly extinguished by the way his mouth curves around the word 'different' and Seungcheol's answering laugh. It's much deeper and drawn out than the cute giggles you've grown accustomed to from him and, your insides burn. 

"I didn't think I'd end up with a kiss from my gorgeous coworker but, I can't say I'm complaining," Seungcheol adds and your heart stutters in your chest when 'gorgeous' registers in your foggy brain. Your hands clenching against your thighs, fingernails biting into your skin through your thin stockings. 

"Same here," Chan replies and you can hear the grin in his voice clear as day. God. What is this night turning into? 

"What's wrong? You haven't said anything since Hannie left. Cat got your tongue?" Seungcheol asks with a tilt of his head and it hits you in this moment why he and the other man got along so well. A glint you've only seen in Jeonghan's eyes shining clear as day in his while one corner of his mouth lifts up, his dimple making an appearance. You're so fucked. 

"I'm not- I don't," you huff in frustration when the words you're looking for don't quite find you, "I'm fine. Just a little hot but, I'm good," you finally manage to spit out. Only feeling mildly embarrassed at the effort it took but, all things considered, you're proud of yourself. 

"Hot huh?" Chan asks in a way that causes the pit of your stomach to drop. Considerably. That drop continues when he shifts closer to you and leisurely slings are a muscular arm over your shoulder. You hope against hope neither man hears the soft gasp that leaves your mouth at the contact. Your grip on your thighs growing harsher when you comprehend his broad body pressed into your side. It takes all of your strength not to rub your thighs together when his scent hits you more viciously this time. 

"Would you like our help cooling off?" 

That forces you to look at Chan. Mouth parting while all you can think to do is stare at him before turning towards Seungcheol who doesn't contest Chan's usage of 'our.' His eyes darker than they were minutes ago while he waits for your response. From the way Chan's fingers absentmindedly trace patterns you can't discern onto your shoulders, he's waiting for a response too. Surely they can't be suggesting what you think they're suggesting. Definitely not. There's no way. This is just a wine, touch starved induced daydream. That's all. 

"Well?" Seungcheol prompts you with a raise of his stupidly attractive eyebrow. Is everything about this man just hot? 

"Well what?" You attempt to spit back but, any stability in your voice is severely undercut by how breathless you sound. Fuck. 

"Do you want our help cooling off?" Chan asks once again and there's no mistaking what he means by the way he's pressed against you and the dip in his voice. His words drifting into your ears like something akin to music. You can't believe you're getting flustered by the same guy who accidentally stapled his tie to his paperwork. Twice. In the same day. 

But really, what do you have to lose? Ethics pretty much took a nosedive off of a steep cliff when you asked to kiss the two of them and they agreed. It's clear they want you as much as you want them. So much for promising yourself to never, ever sleep with a coworker. Here you are contemplating letting two of them fuck you. Your younger self would be aghast. However, you're here now. And you can already feel how sticky and uncomfortable your panties are with every second that ticks by. What's the worst that could happen? 

You nod. Biting your lip in the process and trying your best not to dissolve into a puddle in Chan's arms while you wait for them to respond or react or just do anything. 

"You'll have to use your words, sweetheart," Seungcheol drawls and the tinge of command in his voice makes your stomach perform an entire gymnastics routine. "Yeah, we can't know what you want unless you tell us, baby," all of these petnames are going to make you lose your mind. Especially coming from both of them. 

"I-I want you both to help me," you finally say. You're sure Chan can feel the heat radiating off of your face in waves but, you just hope that that confession is enough for them. 

"Well, we shouldn't keep you waiting then," Seungcheol says with a grin that borders on wolfish. Yeah, you can definitely understand why he and Jeonghan are such close friends. It all makes sense now. 

"There are a few hotels we can choose from down the street," Chan comments, the brush of his blonde hair against your skin sends a shudder down your spine. It really has far too long since you've been touched properly if his hair brushing against your skin is enough to cause you to react so strongly. 

"I'm down if the two of you are," you muster, using every last bit of your nerve to glance at both of them to emphasise your seriousness. They both look like the way to eat you alive and, yeah, having both Choi Seungcheol and Lee Chan's gazes on you at the same time is incredibly overwhelming to put it mildly. 

"Fuck, let's get out of here," Seungcheol practically groans, grabbing his jacket before shimming out of the booth at break neck speed. Your body moves before your brain can catch up. Sliding out onto very unsteady feet, coming into contact with Seungcheol's incredibly solid frame while he steadies you. You choose to ignore the knowing grin that spreads across his face while Chan grabs both of your respective possessions and joins the two of you. 

"Shall we?" The younger man asks as if the three of you are getting ready to grab coffee with each other and not book a night in one of those inconspicuous hotels.

"We shall," Seungcheol responds and you truly cannot believe how cheesy they are. You're not sure what it says about you that these are the two men who caused you to make a mess in your panties and wobble on your feet. Thankfully, they choose not to drag things out after that exchange. The few coworkers who haven't taken Jeonghan's lead and headed home too wave you all off when you pass their tables. Oh. If only they knew. 

It all feels real now. It's one thing to impulsively kiss your coworkers and flirt over drinks. It's a whole other matter to walk out of the bar and walk down the street to a hotel that blends in seamlessly to all of the other businesses. You're too busy being sandwiched between the two muscular men to catch the name. Not that it matters all that much in the grand scheme of things. 

"Hello, could we please book a room for the night? We're not particular on what kind," Seungcheol asks the receptionist. Your face warms when they scan the three of you and raise their eyebrow marginally before typing away at their computer. Chan rubs your side and gives you another one of his blinding smiles while Seungcheol handles the details of whatever room the three of you are going to tumble into. Fortunately, they don't take long to wish the three of you a good night and hand over a room key. You all chorus your thanks in return before making a b-line for the elevator. 

Chan is on you as soon as the doors shut. A surprised gasp from you echoes loudly in the tiny box when he nudges you against the cool wall. His lips pressing featherlight kisses along your jaw while his hands grasp your hips. Groping and fondling every part of you he can while Seungcheol watches the two of you in a mixture of amusement and desire. Your walls clench when your eyes meet over Chan's shoulder and he sends you a lopsided smile that shoots straight to your clit. 

Much to your disappointment, the doors open in what feels like seconds later and Chan separates from you with such ease that it gives you whiplash. You're sure you already look like a wreck and here he is walking out as though he wasn't peppering your throat with kisses while his erection rested against your thigh. Seungcheol has the audacity to laugh at the pout on your lips but, he pulls you out of the elevator with ease. It doesn't take much scanning before the three of you stumble into room 259. It's a pretty luxurious suite. You're a little worried about just how much Seungcheol swiped away nonchalantly when paying for this room but, the two men are on you as soon as the door shuts behind them and before you can think about the cost of tonight further. 

This time, it's Seungcheol's lips that descend upon you. Unlike the younger man, he opts to take his time. Kissing you as though he has all of the time in the world. His large hands reaching up to cup your face and drag his thumbs along your cheeks. Chan does not share the older man's affinity for patience. You throb harshly when you feel his cock pressing against your ass. Gasping into Seungcheol's mouth with every grind and kiss he sears into your neck. His hold on your hips is unrelenting. Keeping you in place while he finds relief in your body and the two men push you towards insanity. It doesn't help that you can feel the beginnings of Seungcheol's hardening cock prod your stomach too. 

Before you're aware of what's happening, both men push you towards the monstrous large bed. Seungcheol laughs when a whine is ripped from your throat when you separate from the two of them, "We're going to take care of you, baby," he soothes while he kicks off his shoes and makes himself comfortable on the bed, "Don't worry." 

"Yeah," Chan chimes in after some time, the throaty quality of his voice turns the storm of butterflies in your stomach into a hurricane, "Just need to get you in place first. Want to taste you," he mutters while he watches Seungcheol tug you towards him with heavy eyes. Situating you between his thick thighs while his lips occupy Chan's previous position and his hands drag along your body. Between every brush of his large hands and the outline of his cock resting against your lower back, it's all so much. However, then your brain is finally hit by Chan's words. 

"Taste me?" You whisper, watching the younger man when he opts to position himself between your thighs. Your heart rising to your throat and close to bursting while his hands leisurely stroke your legs. Even through your stockings, his touch only adds to the sticky mess at the apex of your thighs. "Mhm," Chan hums in affirmation, carefully taking off your work heels and kissing along your left leg while his hand shoves up your skirt, "Been thinking about this for weeks," he mutters, meeting your eyes as his kisses reach higher and higher. 

"When you wear these tight skirts that cling to your ass and shirts that hug your tits, how could we not?" Seungcheol mummers in agreement with Chan directly into your neck and a shiver runs from the top of your spine straight to your pulsing, neglected clit. His fingers shift to unbutton your blouse, more and more of your cleavage spilling out with every steady movement. Your brain is reeling from their confessions and every touch they imprint onto your body. Whimpers all you can think to respond with when Chan reaches your inner thighs and Seungcheol impatiently tugs your shirt off of your shoulders. 

"Tempting us for months now," Seungcheol continues with a teasing edge to his voice into your shoulder while his hands knead your breasts over your bra. Chan hums in agreement against your thigh. Tugging your skirt further up your waist and, you throb when his lidded gaze finds yours between your thighs. "And that little show you put on for Jeonghan," Seungcheol chuckles while his fingers drift from your breasts to fiddle with your clasps. Between your breasts finally being free and Seungcheol wasting no time in cupping them in his large hands and, Chan pressing his face directly onto your covered slit and groaning, you can already feel yourself growing overwhelmed. 

"Well, maybe it wasn't just a show," Seungcheol says between kisses to your neck that prompts goosebumps to rise with every brush of his lips, his thumbs dragging slow circles against your hardened nipples that force mewls from your throat. You'd shut your thighs if Chan wasn't firmly slotted between them, honestly. 

You're brought out of your haze when a ripping sound hits your ears and cool air hits your drenched panties. A startled gasp leaved your lips when you look down to see that Chan ripped your fucking stockings. You're not sure if you're more annoyed or aroused right now. 

"Chan," you hiss, though you doubt you sound angry enough since Seungcheol's fingers are still toying with your nipples and his strong hands eagerly knead as much of your breasts as he can fit in his palms. He even has the nerve to laugh against your shoulder. The fucking audacity. 

"I'm sorry," he certainly doesn't sound all that sorry, "I just got impatient. I'll buy you a new pair. Hell, I'll buy you as many pairs as you want," Chan says, his eyes solely focused on your now exposed, wet panties. Before you can think of a retort, he moves them out of the way and wastes no time in lapping at your soaked slit. 

If Seungcheol didn't have you firmly pressed to his broad chest, you think you may have crumpled on the spot. 

Chan is a passionate man. It bleeds into his work and, he's one the hardest working people you've ever met. Apparently, those characteristics are not only part of his work persona. He doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. Moaning into your pussy while his hand presses against your thigh to make sure you remain spread for him. Keens ripping from your body when he attaches his lips to your swollen clit, alternating between licks and sucks. Experimenting to see what prompts the best reactions from you. Watching you under his lashes when he licks particularly hard and your hips jolt into his mouth. 

"Is Chan making you feel good, baby?" Seungcheol whispers into your ear, a whimper leaving you when he bites down on your lobe and his fingers tug a little harder on your nipples.

"Ye-Yes," you moan, one of your hands weaving into Chan's blonde locks, not sure if you want to shove him closer or push him away. Fortunately, his hold and mouth make the choice for you. His tongue dragging patterns your hazy mind couldn't hope to discern while one of his hands joins him. A quiver running over your entire body when two of his fingers tease your entrance. 

"Both of y-you. Both of you are making me feel so goo-good," you manage to hiccup. 

"Fuck," Seungcheol grunts, one of his hands reaching up to cup your jaw. Thick fingers pressing into your cheeks fiercely while he angled your face towards him, slamming his mouth against yours and greedily drinking in every sound of pleasure you let out. The kiss is messy and poorly coordinated. It's more tongue and spit and desperation than anything else and you love it. 

Chan chooses then to stop toying with you. Gingerly pushing two of his fingers into you, you're more than wet enough to take it but, you still shift marginally to adjust to the stretch they provide. Your tugs on his hair grow more incessant and you barely have the presence of mind to kiss Seungcheol back. You feel no better than a baser creature right now. The obscene sounds of just how wet you are for both of them bouncing off the walls with every careful movement of Chan's fingers. A far cry from the way his mouth is determined to devour you whole. 

"You taste so good," Chan groans against you briefly before diving back in, curling his fingers faster than before and allowing them to push further into your tight heat. A wanton, broken moan leaves your bruised lips when you and Seungcheol finally separate for air when Chan finds the most sensitive part of your walls. You would roll your eyes at the smirk he presses against you if you could. Really, you would. However, you can already feel your thighs starting to shake and more of your wetness gushing down his palm with every brutal curl of his fingers and lick of your clit. 

"Are you getting close, sweetheart?" Seungcheol's question forces your eyes open (when had you even shut them?) and the heat in his eyes makes your walls clamp down on Chan's fingers. 

"Uh huh," you whimper, using all of your strength to keep your eyes open to look at the older man while he rubs soothing circles into your cheek and his other hand gropes one of your breasts. "'M so close, Cheol. Wanna cum so bad. Channie's mouth and fingers feel so good. Please," you doubt you're making much sense at this point but, it can't be helped when you feel that familiar knot in the pit of your gut growing tighter and tighter. Your words motivate the younger man further. His fingers happily exploit the weakness he found along your walls and he sucks on your clit vigorously. 

"Well, then cum for us, baby. Want you to make a mess for us. On Channie's face and fingers." 

Well, that does you in. 

You're once again thankful that Seungcheol is bracing you against him because you would have dissolved into a puddle the moment your orgasm barreled into you. He kisses you through it. It's not as fierce as his earlier kisses but, you appreciate it nonetheless while you moan and whimper into him. Chan keeps going through it all. Licking along your slit to lap up as much of you as he can while his fingers continue to work inside of your spasming walls. Not giving you the slightest chance to shut your thighs and making you take every, single sensation while you try your best to ride out one of the most intense orgasms of your fucking life. 

"Ch-Channie," you whimper, pulling away from Seungcheol and tugging on the younger man's hair in an attempt to separate him from your poor, throbbing pussy, "Too much," you heave, shaking in Seungcheol's arms. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull when he gives you a few more kisses before unlatching himself from you. He eases his fingers out of you slowly and it feels like a fucking lifetime before you're painfully empty once again. 

You're panting and heavily slumped against Seungcheol who happily lets you rest against him. Chan rests against the backs of his legs once he comes up for air too, his chest heaving just as heavily as yours. His face is flushed and the bottom half of it is drenched in spit and your juices. His tongue peaking out to chase as much of your wetness as it can reach, his eyes glazed with desire. God, you don't think you'll ever forget the sight of him like this. 

"You should taste her," are the first words he speaks, the scratchiness in his voice shooting straight to your near overstimulated clit, "She tastes fucking heavenly. Honestly could've kept my mouth on her all night," he borderline moans to the older man over your shoulder. 

"Based on the way you were humping the mattress and nearly came in your pants, I bet she does," Seungcheol laughs from the depths of his chest, his body vibrates with it. Chan scowls at the older man, "I didn't nearly cum in my pants. It's not my fault she tastes good and I got fucking hard," he pouts and, god, him pouting while his mouth is still covered with you should not be so hot. 

"Here, taste for yourself," Chan retorts, lifting the hand that is still covered in you towards the older man. That catches you off-guard. If Seungcheol wasn't behind you, you'd be staring at the man unblinkingly to see how he responds. How he reacts. However, you can't see him or what expression he's making at Chan's offer. 

"Fine," and like that you hear the sound of him lapping at the younger man's fingers with the same enthusiasm Chan had when he was between your thighs. 

These two want you to fucking die. 

"See?" Chan asks with a smug smirk spreading across his face, pulling his fingers back. The knowledge that they're now wet with Seungcheol's spit significantly worsens the ache between your thighs. 

"You're right," Seungcheol grumbles from behind you, strong hands moving to run along your sides, "I need to get a taste for myself later," he muses, grasping at your hips and squeezing them hard. 

The thought of his mouth on you causes you to whimper. And, unfortunately for you, both men hear you based on the heavy looks you can feel on you right now. 

"Greedy," Seungcheol laughs behind you and you ignore the heated rush that courses through your veins, "Wonder how long you've imagined having both of us like this," Chan muses, watching you through his bangs and god, you don't understand how he manages to look so fucking hot. Maybe Seungcheol is right. Maybe you are just insatiable for both of them. Your lust is a bottomless pit. 

"Since the first week I started working with the two of you," you breathe and your noise of surprise is muffled by Chan. Your eyes widen and your brain takes a second too long to kiss him back but, you eventually do nonetheless. Melting into him when the taste of your cum hits your tastebuds. Desperate hands clutching at his previously pristine work shirt while he licks into your mouth. 

"You should've told us. We could've had you like this for weeks," Seungcheol whispers into your ear, shallowly rutting himself against your ass while Chan continues to messily make out with you. 

"Fuck," you moan into the younger man's mouth at Seungcheol's words, the throbbing starting to teeter on painful once again, "Please. Fuck me, please. I want both of you. I'm so empty, it hurts," you whimper, touching and attempting to grasp at both of them simultaneously. Anything to relieve the endless desperation you're drowning in. 

"Poor baby," Chan coos once he's pulled away from you, his eyes watching the way his thumb drags along your bottom lip before looking at Seungcheol once again. Whatever exchange they have this time doesn't take long before Chan's eyes are on you once again, "Be a good girl and bend over, sweetheart. We'll take care of you." 

It's all a scramble of limbs and hurried movements from there. You miss the warmth and safety of being caged by Seungcheol but, the promise of being filled motivates you more. The sounds of clothes rustling catches your attention and your breath stops in your lungs as you watch Chan hurriedly shrug his shirt off to reveal years worth of hard earned muscle. Saliva pooling in your mouth when he unbuckles his belt and kicks off his boxers and dress pants, his cock slapping against his stomach and making you clamp down hard. 

"Like what you see?" He asks and this time you do roll your eyes at him, "Shut up," you respond and Seungcheol laughs from his position against the headboard. 

"Quite the mouth you've got there, sweetheart," Chan says as he comes up behind you, his hands grasping your stockings and hurriedly pulling them and your ruined panties off of you. Leaving you completely nude and exposed to both men. "Let's see if you'll still be mouthing off to me in a bit," he says, kneading your ass. His blunt fingernails biting into your skin and sending lightning from the top of your spine to the very base. 

A strangled gasp bounces off the walls when he rubs himself against your ass, groaning at the friction and watching you grow wetter and wetter with each grind of his cock against you.  

"Chan, please," you whine, pressing back into him in search of any kind of relief. 

You expect him to give you a tougher time. Tease you. Toy with you until frustrated tears brim your eyes but, fortunately, he seems just as pent up as you are. 

"I've got you, baby," he practically moans, nudging your entrance with the head of his cock. Ensuring he's sufficiently coated in your wetness before he carefully starts to push into you. Your combined sounds of pleasure quickly fill the entire room, your eyes fluttering shut with every centimetre he sinks into you. You're so wet. Wet enough that it's smeared your thighs but, the stretch is still overwhelming. Your fingers clawing at the sheets and your mouth hanging open as your walls try to accommodate Chan's girthy cock. 

"You're doing so well, pretty girl," Seungcheol soothes you, reaching for you and cupping your heated face. You'd honestly forgotten about him for a moment. However, his touch and words are more than welcome. They help you relax as much as you can until Chan bottoms out. Cracking your eyes open, you moan at the sight of the older man watching you with a mixture of softness and desire. Your eyes dropping to map as much of his skin with them as you can. You don't know when he removed his shirt but, you weren't complaining in the slightest. 

Your walls clench and unclench around Chan's cock sporadically, trying to grow accustomed to the thick intrusion while Chan's hands continue to knead your ass and Seungcheol helps you relax as much as you can. 

"Ch-Chan. You can m-move," you finally whimper out when the discomfort subsides substantially. He hums in affirmation before slowly pulling out of you halfway and thrusting back in just as slowly. It's still a fucking lot and, you can already feel the strength to hold yourself up leaving you. A broken moan leaving your bruised lips and Seungcheol chooses then to kiss you. One of his hands drifting to your hair and tugging on it lightly while Chan continues to shallowly work you open. His cock deliciously dragging along your slick walls while he moans softly behind you. 

"Is Chan's cock making you feel good?" Seungcheol asks teasingly, his eyes glinting when you shut your eyes as Chan gives you an especially deep stroke, his hands spreading your ass so he can watch the way you cling to him and coat his cock. Your brain is quickly turning to liquid in your skull as his pace picks up a bit. Not too much but, enough for the sounds of his balls hitting you to become more audible. 

"I asked you something, baby," Seungcheol says, the darker edge to his voice unconsciously making you tighten around Chan who groans louder than he previously had, his hips snapping into you hard enough to push you towards Seungcheol. 

"Ye-Yes, Cheol. Ch-Channie's dick is making me feel s-so go-good," you finally stutter out. You have an inkling the other man knows what he's doing because it doesn't take much after that for Chan to fuck into you with very little hesitance. Thick fingers moving to hold onto your hips and keeping you firmly in place so you couldn't squirm away from him. That finally evaporates any strength you had left. Seungcheol happily lets you rest against his thigh and his cock, straining against his boxers, joins your line of sight. 

"Che-Cheol," you whimper, trying to collect all of your brain cells that aren't currently mush right now. Reaching for his cock and needily palming him over his boxers, prompting a grunt from the man from the very back of his throat. 

"God, you're so fucking cock hungry," he grits out, his hips pressing into your hand to help alleviate some of the pressure. "Chan's already fucking you and here you are trying to get my dick out," he groans, looking down at you through his damp hair. 

"I think she likes when you talk to her like that," Chan laughs breathlessly behind you, leaning down to press a kiss against your back while he continues to fuck into your warm, wet walls, "Our little cockslut." 

The word makes you whine into Seungcheol's thigh. Much like Chan, he seems to be a little too fond of being a bit mean to you too based on the way he chuckles. "Don't be shy," he coos, reaching down to cup your face and make you look at him. You're sure you look like a fucking wreck right now. "If you want to suck me off, you could've just asked, baby," he says, his fingers brushing along your bottom lip and following the movements religiously. A quiet curse that falls from his plump lips as he watches you. That's more than enough motivation for him to pull his hands away from you and tug off his boxers. Tossing them to join the mess you've all made on the hotel room floor. 

Seungcheol is big. No, big is putting it mildly. Seungcheol is fucking massive. The sound his cock makes when it hits his thigh is enough to intimidate you further. Not that it required much since the sheer size of him was enough to prompt your eyes to widen, mouth to salivate and pussy clench viciously around Chan. 

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he says once you've ogled him sufficiently, his eyes shining with concern and his hand toying with your hair. 

"No, I want to. I want you in my mouth, Cheol." 

His cock jumps at your words and you think his reaction is going to supply you with enough confidence to last at least a lifetime. "Fuck, okay. I'll go slow," he groans, wrapping his hand around his cock and you didn't think it could look any more appealing until now. True to his word, Seungcheol does very, very slowly push into your mouth. He tastes a little salty but not unpleasant. It does take awhile for you to adjust to his size and you can already feel the ache developing in your jaw. However, it's worth it. It's so worth it the way Seungcheol groans when he's halfway in your mouth. It's worth it when his fingers weave themselves in your hair and tugging on it gently while he shallowly fucks your mouth. 

Between the way Chan molds you around his cock and the way you drool around Seungcheol's, you aren't really capable of much else than letting the two of them find pleasure in your body and taking the pleasure they give you. Your body jolts when the fat head of Seungcheol's cock hits the back of your throat. 

"Shit, 'm sorry, baby. Are you okay?" He asks, his warm, brown eyes looking down at you with concern. You try your best to nod with him still in your mouth. Conveying to him that it's okay and he once again thrusts into your mouth. This time around you're better prepared to handle the brush of his cock on the back of your throat. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight. You love being our little toy to use huh?" Chan moans, his hand snaking between your slick thighs to rub heavy-handed circles into your clit. Your pitchy moans are muffled by Seungcheol's cock, spit dribbling down your chin while your body shudders as Chan drags you onto his cock and pushes you closer and closer to another orgasm. 

"You're taking my cock so well, sweetheart," Seungcheol praises, his pace picking up slightly until the sounds of you choking on him join the litany of noises that fill your hotel room. You can already tell that your throat will be raw tomorrow but, you don't care. You can't when he looks so stunning fucking your mouth and copious amounts of his pre-cum join the mess slipping past your lips. 

"Fuck," Chan grits behind you, his thrusts quickly shifting from precise and brutal to sloppy and bordering on uncoordinated. Based on the way his cock twitches inside of you, you wager that he's close. You're proven right not long after that when he chokes out your name before pressing his hips flush against your ass, his cock throbbing as rope after rope of his cum floods your eager and awaiting walls. Between the warmth that floods your pussy and his continued rubbing your clit, you tumble over the proverbial edge soon after him. All your whimpers and mewls turn to vibrations around Seungcheol's cock, overstimulated tears streaking down your face as your body spasms along with Chan's. 

"Fuck, pretty girl, you should see yourself," Seungcheol grits out, easing his cock out of your mouth while you try to gather your bearings as Chan holds onto you to steady himself. Your walls still spasm around his softening cocl through the aftershocks and that just prompts him to dig his fingers into you and, moan quietly. 

"Are you two okay?" Seungcheol asks with equal parts concern and amusement, eyeing your respective fucked out states. 

"Yeah, just needed a moment," Chan responds first, gently pulling out of you. You can't help but, cringe at the feeling and the sudden emptiness. Your body finally collapsing onto the sheets since Chan isn't holding you up any longer. Your thighs feel little better than jelly at the moment and your breathing is still laboured. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," you reply once you start to come back to yourself, blinking up at Seungcheol who shoots you a gentle smile and strokes your hair. You notice that he's very much still hard and part of you wonders why he didn't just cum in your mouth. You'd be more than happy to let him. 

"You haven't cum yet," you say, glancing at his wet, very hard cock before looking at his face. 

He laughs and Chan snorts behind you, "I didn't want it to be too much for you. Don't worry. If you're tired, I can just take care of myself and we can call it a night." 

You can't help but pout and reach for him, wrapping a hand around him and delighting in the hiss that leaves his lips, "I'm not tired and I want you to cum too, Cheol. Do you want to use my mouth or cum inside too?" 

You probably shouldn't find the way his jaw clenches so attractive yet here you are. 

"Told you she was a cockslut," Chan pipes in and you shoot him an annoyed look over your shoulder briefly. You doubt you look all that mad at him since you take a moment to appreciate the way his blonde locks stick to his damp forehead and a thin sheen of sweat makes him look even more mouthwatering, "Shut up, Chan," you retort before turning back to the other man and waiting for his answer. 

"You're trying to kill me," Seungcheol jokes, sounding short of breath, "Can you roll onto your back for me, baby?" 

You comply so fast that you're surprised you don't give yourself whiplash. Chan grins at you before moving out of the way without much fanfare. Taking Seungcheol's previous position against the headboard and being content to spectate this time around. 

It's one thing to see Seungcheol while Chan was rearranging your spine but, the vision he makes between your thighs will be the stuff of your fantasies for years to come after tonight. He's longer than Chan. You can tell as much just from looking at him and feeling the younger man inside you. It's going to be an adjustment but, you're more than ready to take him. 

"Are you ready?" He asks, glancing at you through his bangs while he grinds against your wet slit. Sneaking a few peaks to watch the way you cover him in your wetness. You would giggle at his complete lack of subtlety if you weren't itching to feel him. 

"Seungcheol, yes," you whine, grinding back against him so he knows you're more than certain about this. 

"Never hurts to make sure," he tuts but, grabs himself in his hand nonetheless. Guiding himself to your wet entrance and very gradually sinking into you. Your mouth hangs open as a gasp leaves your lips at the sensation. Fortunately, the stretch isn't too overwhelming. Chan certainly made sure of that. However, Seungcheol is still big and it takes you a while to grow accustomed to the way he pushes into you. 

"Chan was right," he groans, watching your face and body for any signs of this all being too much, "You're so fucking tight and wet, baby."

All you can do is moan in response. Pitchy whimpers being punched from your chest when he's finally fully sheathed inside of you. Your eyes drift from drinking in the way his face contorts beautifully to glancing down to watch him split you open and tightening around him at the sight. 

"Taking me so well," he mutters, leaning down to press a frenzied kiss to your lips before he starts moving. Your hands find themselves on his broad back, your fingernails digging into it with every deep stroke he gives you. He eagerly swallows your gasping moans when he shoves your legs back, using his strength to keep them pressed to your chest and cursing against your bruised lips when he sinks impossibly deeper into you. 

"I'm going to be honest," he pants against your mouth as he fucks into you, his cock dragging against your walls, a combination of your wetness and Chan's cum beginning to leak out of you and dribble down your ass with every jolting thrust he gives you. "I don't think I'm going to last that long," he pants, nuzzling your neck and lavishing your throat with licks, nips and kisses. 

"'Is okay," you squeak when he brushes against the sensitive patch against your walls, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your skull. "Want you to cum. Want you to cum inside, Cheol," you whimper, clutching him as close to you as humanly possible. Not caring in the slightest at the sweat you can feel dripping onto your skin. 

"Fuck, baby. Don't say that," he moans against your skin between kisses, his hands gripping your thighs for dear life while he continues to chase his release. God, he's so fucking deep you're certain you can feel him in the pit of your stomach where that all too familiar knot begins to tighten once more. The obscene squelching of your pussy combined with his breathy curses seared into your skin only fueling the simmer building in your gut. You're not sure if you can cum again right now but, based on the way his cock bullies your pussy, you're not sure how much of a say you have in the matter. 

Seungcheol, unlike Chan, catches you off-guard when he falls apart. His strangled warning of 'cumming' is the only signal you receive before he gives you one brutal thrust and completely remains inside of you to cum as deeply as he possibly can. You wouldn't be surprised if you found bruises on your thighs tomorrow from the way his thick fingers clutch at them while he rides out his climax, his cock pulsing nonstop inside of you. It's like he cums endlessly and you kiss the side of his head as he shudders on top of you, his breaths fanning over your heated skin. 

Seungcheol barely has enough strength left but he uses it to pull out of you (you don't think the feeling will ever stop being unpleasant) and rolls onto his back to catch his breath. You don't blame him. You're about five seconds from passing out and you can already feel the mess of combined cum smearing your thighs.  You are genuinely a little worried about how you're going to get your legs to cooperate with you. 

"Nope, no passing out," Chan says, leaning over you. He's so handsome. Even when he's annoying you and you want nothing more than to shove him aside and crawl under the covers. "We have to get you all cleaned up first," he tuts, booping you on the nose. It's difficult for you to reconcile this man with the one that made you almost cry from pleasure not too long ago. 

"I'm tired," you whine, flicking him lightly on the forehead and smiling at the splutter you receive in response, "Plus, my legs feel like jello. I don't know if I could get up if I wanted to." 

"We'll help you. It's our responsibility after all," Seungcheol mutters, looking as tired as you feel but sending you a reassuring smile all the same. 

You're barely awake as the two men help you to the bathroom. Helping you clean up while doing the same for themselves until the three of you are no longer a sweaty, gross mess. You don't remember much before you find yourself wrapped up in the soft hotel covers, snuggling into one of them. You're not sure who and, you honestly don't care beyond whoever it is incredibly warm and solid beneath your touch. Sleep finds you within minutes after that. 

Your groan when the (unfortunately) familiar sound of your alarm violently drags you out of the land of the unconscious. You blindly reach for it but, come into contact with something muscular and hot instead. That wakes you up. Blinking your eyes open, you're met with someone's back instead and that's when the events of last night come slamming into you. 

Oh god. So that really happened. You really had sex with your two coworkers. That wasn't just some surreal dream. 

"Whoever's alarm that is, shut it off," a tired, scratchy voice grumbles behind you. Using the arm he'd slung around your waist to tug you closer to his broad chest. Seungcheol. 

"I need you to let go of me first," you respond sheepishly, the rough quality of your voice surprising you but, then you remember the way the man behind you used your mouth last night and you suppose this is to be expected. 

He only grumbles minimally before eventually letting you go. You're sore. Unsurprisingly. However, you do try your best to crawl to the foot of the bed until you find your purse, thankfully, within reach. You hit the dismiss button quickly before crawling back to your spot. You have no clue how Chan can sleep through that. The man must be a fucking rock. 

"We need to get ready for work," you whisper to Seungcheol with a frown, resting your arm across your forehead and sighing. 

"Or," you nearly jump out of your skin when the younger man turns to face the two of you with a grin on his face, "We could just call in sick," he offers with a shrug. Typically you'd protest the idea more but, you're so exhausted and you highly doubt you'd be able to get up on your legs right now even if you gave it your all. 

"I second that," you respond, glancing at the older blonde to see his reaction. He looks pensive for a moment before replying, 

"Well, it's settled then."

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

[saylor-twift]

Your Needs, My Needs

As much as I’d like to post this fic here, I’m a little nervous because it does contain smut, so I will be keeping it to Ao3. If that bugs you, simply block me and scroll away! I will not be offended. I will be posting the link to the Ao3 here as well as a little preview of what the fic entails.

word count: 9.1k

warnings: smut (not violent or kinky or anything, i don’t fw that stuff sorry), tiiiny but of cursing, probably ooc Wanderer lol

summary: Hat Guy is having a hard time with accepting his new life and himself as a person, to the point it’s driven a bit of a wedge into his relationship. Luckily, fate has given him someone who is willing to listen and be there for him despite all the rough edges

notes: Wanderer is called Kunimitsu bc that’s what I named him!

♡ Your Needs, My Needs Ao3

masterlist w/ other stuff!

preview!! (not smut here don’t worry)

“Just because you have not experienced something yet does not mean it is out of reach or nonexistent. It does not matter what you have been taught, or what you believe, because it is false. You are not just a tool, or a vessel, or a machine… you have a soul. You can love, you can grieve, you can feel. You are a person, Kunimitsu, whether you like it or not. And one that I truly love.” Your words come straight from the heart, and no amount of contradiction from him could ever make you doubt how you feel. He blinks, surprised by the sudden intensity of your words. A direct contrast to the tenderness of how you spoke to him before. He is quiet for a moment before you hear his voice, hardly above a whisper. “Perhaps… you could be right. But I’m not saying I think you’re correct. It will take time, likely more than I could ask you to give, to unlearn my lifetime's worth of conditioning. I’m not sure I know how to be anything other than the puppet I was created to be.” He is so quiet now, so tender. His words aren’t sweet per say, but his body language speaks volumes. Your brows furrow together, almost as if they're trying to form a barricade to stop the tears that threaten to fall. “There is nothing wrong with learning to do something new.” you protest as your eyes glisten. The pad of his thumb wipes over your eye, urging it to close and disposing of the moisture before it even has a chance to fall down your skin. “There is no need for tears. I am not worth weeping over. I am just a doll, after all.” He says, and you almost laugh in disbelief. A tear escapes from the very same eye he had just wiped clean. “Did you not listen to a word I just said? Anyone I love is worth weeping over, and I’d do it a million times over if it could prove to you that you are not just an object, but a person, who… who I am in love with.”

(also side note, this is my first time ever writing something like this so i’m pretty nervous, i almost didn’t want to post it but it took me two and a half weeks to write so might as well 🤷‍♀️)

divider from @strangergraphics-archive !

[togrowoldinv]

The Meeting

Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

When you meet a fellow mom at the PTO meeting, you soon realize just how much love she needs

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, fingering, oral (W receiving), mommy kink, general fluff at some parts

Note: I just woke up thinking about milf Wanda lol. Follow my library blog @togrowoldinvlibrary for updates! Enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Your hands shake with nerves as you enter the school. You’re not one for group events, but your daughter’s teacher had asked you personally to help with this year’s spring events. You couldn’t say no.

You follow the other parents to the sign in table. Recognizing a couple of the parents, you smile at them and have some small talk as you sign your name.

And then you see her. A mom who’s new to the town, and everyone is curious about.

She sits next to you. You figure it would be impolite not to introduce yourself.

“Hey I’m y/n,” you say, holding out your hand for the woman to shake.

She turns to you. You could get lost in those eyes.

“Wanda,” she supplies simply. She shakes your hand gently.

Before you can ask her any questions, the meeting starts. Pepper Potts leads the conversation and explains that you’ll be divided into teams for the process.

You’re uneasy at the idea, but when she pairs you and Wanda as a team your curiosity is peaked.

The meeting comes to an end and it’s time to talk to your partners to make schedule arrangements.

“So, we can meet here on whatever night works best for you,” you start the conversation with Wanda.

“The boys keep me pretty busy,” Wanda explains.

“Boys?”

“Yes, I have twins,” she clarifies.

“Oh wow. I thought one was exhausting,” you say. Wanda laughs a little at that. “We can meet anywhere at anytime. I’m open as long as I have time to get a sitter.”

“Would you mind if we did it my house?” Wanda asks. “I have to wait for my husband to drive to me places and it’s just easier if-“

“Sounds perfect,” you cut her off. You didn’t need to know anymore than that about her husband. “Just text me your address.”

You hand her your phone to put her number in and shoot her a quick text that it’s you. With a quick goodbye, you and Wanda go separate ways. She texts you the next morning with her address and the time to be there.

The first time going there you were nervous. You didn’t know anything about Wanda other than her first name. Every week you learn more about her and start feeling yourself really drawn to her.

Today when you show up at Wanda’s, she answers the door wearing her best dress. But her eyes are sad.

“Hey Wanda. You look nice,” you tell her. “I was supposed to come here tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah, come in,” she replies.

You walk in and sit your stuff down on the couch like usual. Wanda sits next to you, but her focus is on her phone.

“Is everything okay?” You ask her.

Wanda drops her phone onto the couch and turns to you.

“He isn’t coming home tonight. It’s our anniversary and he isn’t coming home,” she says. She starts crying.

You move closer to her and wrap an arm around her shoulder. She leans into you and cries into your chest.

“I’ve got you, Wanda,” you say. “I know how hard this is.”

“You do?” She asks through her tears.

“I do. I went through the same thing. Hence why I’m a single parent now,” you explain.

“I didn’t know. You always seem to have it together,” Wanda says.

“Yeah well, truly I don’t. But that’s alright.”

You wipe Wanda’s tears from her face with one hand and rub your hand over her back with the other.

Wanda’s tears begin to subside. She shifts in your arms and is now inches from your face.

“Wanda,” you whisper just before she leans forward and kisses your lips.

You can’t help but kiss her back. She’s so beautiful and so deserving of soft love. After a few minutes of kissing, Wanda seems to realize what’s happening and she pulls away a little.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her breath hits your lips.

“Wanda, when is the last time someone kissed you like this?” You ask her.

“I don’t know.”

You run your hand through her hair and Wanda’s eyes close in comfort.

“Can I kiss you again?” You ask. She nods. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“Yes, please, yes,” she breathes out.

At her words, you kiss her deeply. She melts against you. You pull her into your lap, and kiss her neck. Wanda moans and moves her hips as you pay attention to the soft skin of her neck.

“Bite me,” she mumbles. You grin against her neck and do as she asks.

You pull away and look at her. She’s so beautiful.

“Wanda, you’re so gorgeous,” you tell her.

The smile she has on her face makes your heart swell. You lift up her dress over her hips to reveal red lacy panties.

“Fuck, Wanda.”

You run a finger over her panties and feel her wetness. She grinds against your finger and you take that as a sign to slip her panties to the side.

“Oh god,” Wanda moans.

“Be good for me, baby,” you say. “Already so wet for me.” You run your fingers over her folds and slip them into her.

She rides your fingers as you continue to kiss anywhere you can reach on her body. It’s not long before Wanda’s hip movements become erratic.

“Come for me, Wanda,” you say.

“Fuck,” she moans as she coats your fingers.

You work her down from her high. And she falls against your shoulder. You kiss her temple and she smiles against you.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” You ask her.

“I haven’t felt this good in so long,” Wanda replies. She kisses your neck. You hold her tighter against you.

“You deserve to always feel this good.”

Wanda shifts in your arms to look at you again. You kiss her and reach behind her to unzip her dress. She stands up and the dress along with her panties fall to the floor.

You take in the sight of her standing there with nothing on.

“My god, you’re so beautiful,” you tell her.

She smirks and reaches her hand out for you to take. You smile and take it. Wanda pulls you off of the couch and into her bedroom.

You kiss her as she falls back onto the bed. This time you bring your lips to her nipples and suck them.

“You feel so good,” Wanda says. Her hands push you further into her chest.

“All for you, mommy,” the word slips from your lips. You stop sucking on her due to the feeling a little embarrassed. But Wanda doesn’t let you hesitate for long.

“Mommy needs you,” she says. The term makes you both so amped up and ready.

“I’ll take care of you, mommy,” you say. You move down her body and drop kisses along the way.

You lick her folds and she makes beautiful sounds. Taking her clit in your mouth, you bring her close almost immediately. She definitely hasn’t been touched like this in a long time, if ever.

“Fuck baby,” Wanda says.

“Come for me, mommy,” you say against her.

And she does. You wish you could remember the sounds she makes for the rest of your life. So beautiful, so pleasant.

You clean her up and move up to lay next to her. Wanda kisses you in a way that feels like she’s thanking you for helping her feel so good.

“I’m so glad I met you, Wands,” you say.

“I’m glad I met you too, y/n,” she says. She moves to straddle your waist and slips her hands under your shirt. “It’s your turn now, baby.”

You smile and let Wanda start to undress you.

You are so glad you went to that PTO meeting.

Wanda Maximoff is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

And here she is above you, making you feel so good.

[death-paint]

The Summoning (Spellbound pt.2)

Leon Kennedy x Fem! Witch! Reader

Word Count: 3427

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, thigh riding, clothed sex (kinda?? reader is in lingerie I'm not sure if that counts)

Summary: Leon gets busy during the holidays, having to leave for a mission just before Christmas. You do some holiday decorating while he's gone, and he gets to open his present a little early. ;) If it's a bit confusing, reader celebrates both Yule and Christmas.

I worked on this for about a week and finished it just last night, so I really hope it's still a decent piece of writing lol. I also don't write a bunch of smut so I hope that part is at least okay

Tysm @ghostkennedy for beta reading!! If you're into dark fics, Han's your gal. Go check out their writing!!

I suggest reading part 1 first! But it's not necessary <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ CONTENT

Edit: I made a playlist for this and part 1! Feel free to listen to it while you're reading!

dividers by @cafekitsune

A few months have passed since your first attempt to teach Leon the ways of your practice. Ever since then, he’s been asking you to make him protection spell jars whenever he has to leave for work, “just in case,” he says. It didn’t take a psychic to know that he was starting to believe it, even if it was just a tiny bit. Tarot card pullings are a part of both your daily routines now, and Leon was well on his way to learning their meanings.

Now, it was late December, and you were once again dancing around the house with incense, the scent of which still made Leon turn up his nose. But that didn’t matter right now. He was out “running errands,” no doubt gift shopping for your and Leon’s mutual friends. Or maybe he was out to pay a bill or two and get groceries, but either way, he was out of the house. Music blaring throughout your home once more, you spun and stomped and shimmied as you put up the Yule decorations. Small holly branches were in a vase on the dining table, a pentacle hidden in a wreath outside the front door, and a large fir tree in the corner of the living room. A few pine branches and pinecones sat atop the bookshelf and your altar in the living room, giving it a fresh scent. Candles were scattered about, almost no corner was without one. A gold one here, a red one over there, the odd green or white ones sprinkled around.

Leon was never much of a decorator, never saw the point of keeping material possessions, especially if he was basically on call for the government 24/7. It made it a little harder to tell what kinds of gifts Leon would appreciate. You only got him cologne and a new pair of gloves for his last birthday, figuring he’d appreciate a more useful present. He seemed happy with it, you caught a whiff of the cologne every time he kissed you; made your head spin. But once you came along and moved in with him, he found himself looking for little trinkets to bring back, most of which ended up displayed on your altar.

So, that’s why holiday decorations are usually up to you. Not that you minded, it was nice to have free reign over how the house looked, even if sometimes you were up at odd hours of the night nearly breaking your back to rearrange things. Literally. Leon had woken up once or twice to that, finding you on the kitchen counter or catching you from when you fell off of the bookshelf.

“You can do all that in the morning, baby,” he yawned, his groggy voice filled with concern as he rubbed his eyes. “And you can ask me to help, you know. Don’t need you breaking bones just to make the living room all pretty, doll.”

You spent hours getting everything to look perfect, saving the tree for when Leon got home. Gotta make it feel like he participated at least a little, right? Mistletoe hung just above the entrance to your home, a nice surprise for when your partner returned home. You sat in the kitchen, decorating a log at the dining table for a while before getting up and taking a break to make some cookies for you and your boyfriend to enjoy. Fun holiday cookies, with a bit of a witchy twist.

You washed your hands and gathered up the ingredients for the average person’s sugar cookies. But you were no average person. From the kitchen cupboard, you pulled a jar filled with dried lavender and a paper bag of rose petals. You stared at them a moment before deciding against the rose petals, putting them back. Do you make a syrup first, or just drop the lavender buds into the dough? Or do you simply wait and press the lavender in just before it goes into the oven? Thinking it over, you decided the best way to get what you wanted out of the cookies was to mix the flower buds into the dough, as it would better hide the texture while still being delightfully floral. So you do just that, sprinkling a little bit of lavender into the bowl and putting the jar back from where it came. You decide on fun little decorations, carefully arranging purple and green colored sugar into the shape of lavender on a few of the cookies before tossing them into the oven along with a few orange slices to dry out.

And then comes the sound of the door shutting.

“Looks like someone was busy today!” Leon calls from the doorway. You sprint over as fast as you can, quickly giving him a series of pecks all over his face. When he playfully raises an eyebrow at you in affectionate confusion, you point up at the ceiling above the door. He chuckles, amused as he sets a few bags on the floor. He then wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss, swaying along to the music coming from your phone hooked up to a speaker in the living room.

“How’d the errand running go?” You ask, curiously trying to peek inside of the bags that lay by Leon’s feet.

“It went just fine,” he replied, moving to block the bags from your sight. “No peeking. We’ll wrap the gifts together in a bit.” He took the bags and put them in a nearby cabinet. He took off his jacket, put it on the coat rack, and kicked his shoes off before making his way to the kitchen to wash his hands.

“Hey, what’s up with the wood on the table?”

“Oh!” You walk into the kitchen after him. “I was in the middle of decorating a Yule log!”

“Looks festive.” He moved the log to sit on top of the cabinet he put the gift bags in. “You really take the whole holiday decorating thing seriously, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I like making the place look pretty!” You smile.

“Every room is a thousand times prettier the second you walk into it,” Leon kisses your forehead.

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff.

“What? It’s true!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cheesy.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.” You sigh, hugging him.

The smell of lavender and citrus permeates the kitchen, and you release yourself from Leon to take the baking tray out of the oven. It lands on the top of the stove with a bit of a clatter, filling the room with its wonderful aroma a bit more strongly now.

“What’s that? Cookies?” Leon asks, sneaking up behind you, reaching out to grab a cookie and wiggling his fingers. You smack his hand away.

“You’re gonna burn yourself.” You warn him, shooting over a glare.

“If it’s something you made, it’s worth it.” Leon reaches around you, grabs a cookie, and immediately recoils, hissing in pain as he shakes his hand, dropping the cookie back onto the tray.

“Told you.” You smirk.

“That you did.” He walks to the sink to run his hand under cold water for a moment. Once he feels the pain has dulled enough, he makes his way back to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you on the forehead. “Well…since you’ve done a lot today, how about we order takeout? As a treat.”

“Okay. How’s pizza sound? Or…actually, maybe I want Chinese food…” You go back and forth between the two, thinking of the different reasons for each. Leon chuckles at your indecisiveness.

“We can do both. You’ve earned it, doll.” Even after you’ve lost count of how many times he’s used the pet name, it still makes your face turn beet red.

“You spoil me.”

“That’s my job.”

And so the two of you sat in the newly redecorated living room, sifting through all the different ornaments to decorate the tree as you waited for your food to arrive. Leon of course was in charge of the star, him being the taller one in the house. Dried citrus slices, cinnamon, and other natural decorations hung from the branches, along with several sparkling garlands, glass pixies, and snowflakes. By the time you got to wrapping the colorful lights around the fake evergreen, the doorbell rang, signaling it was about time for a break.

Neither of you bothered to grab plates, agreeing that neither of you wanted to do dishes tonight. Instead, you opted to just use the plastic forks that came with the bag of takeout containers, and ate the pizza straight from the box as you stared up at the television screen, watching whatever Christmas movie happened to be on. At some point, you hopped back off the couch, finishing up the tree and glancing up at the TV every so often.

Now it was Christmas Eve, and some grinch of a bioterrorist had Leon off to work again. Can’t they take the day off too? Take a break from trying to destroy the world and all that when you’re trying to spend time with your boyfriend? Fucking rude. But the fact of the matter was that they don’t give a fuck, and you had to sit at home, waiting, unsure of his safety, as he couldn’t text you while he was out. In your boredom, you had the idea to come up with yet another surprise for him. You grin devilishly, deciding to go shopping for Leon’s present.

After breakfast, you headed out for the nearest department store, browsing the aisles for hours before settling on a cute floral set that was a bit heavier on the greens. You tossed an elf hat into the basket as well as a few other things you thought Leon might like. A few bows tossed in at the last second, and you were on your way back home. As soon as you got inside, you wrapped all your gifts (aside from the lingerie) and placed them underneath the tree. The rest of your day was rather uneventful. You took a nap around two o’clock in the afternoon, had leftovers for dinner, nothing special.

And then came the text.

Of course, you hadn’t been expecting one, especially not from your boyfriend. Not so soon. Guess it either wasn’t that big of a threat, or he had help. Or maybe he was just that good. Or all of the above. Whatever the cause of his early return was didn’t really matter, it just meant you’d be able to see the look on his face sooner than you’d anticipated. Giggling and giddy with excitement, you slipped on the lingerie set, hat, and some festive stockings you had hidden in a drawer somewhere. You stuck one of the ribbons on your chest above your heart, turned on the lights of the tree, and assumed your place underneath it, waiting patiently for Leon’s return.

Quite some time after you first sat, you were halfway to falling asleep when you heard the lock click open, signaling your partner's return. At first, Leon didn't seem to notice, assuming that the lack of light (aside from the tree) meant you were in bed. It was your hair getting caught on a branch that made him look over.

“Oh? Look what we have here…” Leon knelt down to your level after taking off his jacket and shoes, reaching out to touch your face. “A naughty little elf, wrapped up nice and pretty for me.” He moved his hand to rest underneath your chin, his thumb just underneath your bottom lip as he gently tilted your face up to look at him. You felt yourself slip into that hazy headspace the second the words left his mouth, your teeth gently tugging at your lip as your eyes met his. He chuckled upon seeing your expression, untangled your hair from the tree, and threw you over his shoulder to carry you to bed, your hat lying forgotten somewhere on the living room floor. Once he reached your shared bedroom, Leon gently dropped you on top of the mattress, watching as you looked up at him, glassy-eyed and cheeks flushed.

“Aw…pretty baby. Been waiting for me all night, haven’t you?” You nodded, a small whine leaving your lips. “Come on doll, use your words.”

“Yes, Daddy…missed you so much,” you pout, pretty doe eyes meeting his baby blues.

“That’s my girl.” Leon sits on the bed, one knee between your thighs, and one hand under your chin as he leans down to kiss you, the other supporting his weight. Slowly, the hand on your face moves to snake around your back, gently coaxing you to sit up on his leg. You clung to him, breasts pressing into his chest as your lips moved over one another’s hungrily. Leon’s hand wandered lower, giving your ass a squeeze. He quietly laughed as you jumped at the sudden sensation.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful. I don’t even wanna take this off…” Leon slid his thumb underneath the strap of your lacy bralette, letting it slip off and hit your skin with a snap.

“Then don’t,” you breathed. Leon thought it over for a beat, a smile overtaking his features.

“My pretty little angel…you’ve always been such a smart girl.” Shivers run down your spine as Leon pulls you in for another heated kiss.

As you tangled your fingers in his hair, he slid one of his own hands underneath the fabric of your bralette, kneading your soft flesh. Slick pooled in your new lacy panties, and you slowly started to drag your clothed cunt back and forth against the rough texture of Leon’s jeans.

“Aw…gonna make a mess all over my pants, baby?” He coos, both of his hands on your hips now. 

“Mhm!” You nod, continuing to roll your hips, your voice high-pitched and whiny.

“Such a needy little girl.” Leon teased. “Go ahead, baby. Show Daddy how bad you need him.”

You found it hard to keep your head on straight as your hips started to move faster, Leon’s hands helping you get enough pressure on your bundle of nerves. Your arms hung around his neck, a dazed look on your face as you tried desperately to get yourself off. Leon always thought you looked adorable like this–made him that much more eager to bury his cock inside your soaking wet pussy. Seeing your expression, he felt his cock twitch in his pants. You looked so pretty, so desperate. He almost didn’t want to wait anymore–had to remind himself to be patient. Needed to be sure you’d be ready for him.

Your face did little to hide the pleasure you felt, the delicious friction of your clit moving back and forth on the denim nearly too much to bear. You clung to Leon a little tighter, the fire in your lower body dangerously close to spilling over.

“Le- fuck…Leon!” you cried out, voice quivering.

“Go ahead, doll. Be a good girl and cum on my lap, baby.” One of Leon’s hands comes back to your face to wipe away a tear that slipped its way down your cheek, moving to guide your face to kiss him once more. Your hips rolled harder and faster a few more times as you whimpered and moaned into his mouth, your orgasm burning through your body and leaving you shaking as Leon guided your hips to ride it out.

“My sweet angel…you did so well, sweetheart.” He caressed your body after it was over, hands lingering near your ass and soft breasts. “Guess I should give my pretty baby what she’s been waiting for, yeah?” You nodded in response, prompting an expecting look from Leon.

“Yes, please, Daddy! Been waiting so long!” Your face falls into that adorable pout again. God, it made Leon want to fuck you endlessly, so hard you wouldn’t recover for weeks. He pushed you to lie on your back, standing up to undress. Leon did his best to make a show of it, but undressed rather quickly, eager to feel your hot, wet pussy around his cock.

Your breathing picked up again as you watched him, eyes trailing over his hands as they unbuckled his belt with a few satisfying clinks. The sound had you rubbing your thighs together with anticipation. Fuck, you needed him so, so bad.

Leon, sensing your impatience, hurried to kick off the rest of his clothing, rushing back to the bed to kiss you, his body hanging over your own. The heat of his body against yours felt so nice as he reached down between the two of you to feel how wet you were. You were absolutely drenched, and he'd hardly even touched you! He smirked as his fingers delved into your slick, embarrassing wet sounds filling the bedroom.

“Leon…please…” you whined, holding back from fucking yourself on his fingers. “No more teasing…”

“So my little doll can ask for what she wants!” He pulled his hand away from your core, wrapping it around the base of his thick, hard cock. His other hand pushed your panties to the side, and he stared for a moment at your glistening folds before guiding the head of his dick to sit at your entrance. “God, it gets even more beautiful every time I look at it, baby. Love seeing how wet I can make you.” He murmured, burying his length inside of you. The two of you sat in silence for a few seconds, giving you time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching out your tight hole. You rolled your hips up into his, signaling you were ready for him to move.

He set as steady a pace as he could, finding it hard not to just pound into you as soon as he slipped in. He'd missed you while he was out. Wanted–no, needed to feel your skin on his for days. The way you pushed yourself back to him wasn't exactly helping, either. Gradually, he picked up the pace, the head of his length hitting your sweet spot and making your pussy squeeze around him, sucking his cock in deeper.

“Shit…keep squeezing me like that and I won't be able to last much longer, angel.”

“Can't help it, Daddy…feels so good…”

Leon leaned in closer, pushing your legs to your chest in a mating press, his thrusts pushing his cock so deep you damn near felt him in your throat, leaving you breathlessly moaning as he rolled his hips. Your eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out pathetically as Leon’s thumb circled your clit, making you see stars.

“Fuck- daddy! Daddy please!” Your cunt pulsing around his cock was driving him insane, he was so close to the edge, just needed to bring you there with him.

“I know, baby girl, I know,” he purred. “Need you to wait for me, okay? Gotta be a good girl and wait until I say.” You only whimpered and nodded, unsure if you could speak any further.

Leon's thumb kept stroking your throbbing clit, your pussy clenching around his shaft was fucking heaven. His thrusts stuttered, cock twitching inside your walls.

“Cum for me, angel,” he pounded into you harder and faster now, his cock hitting your g-spot nearly perfectly every time it plunged back into your cunt. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy” was all you could say as your body twitched and writhed, the wet slapping of your bodies together sending you over the edge.

“Fuck, that's it. Yeah, that's my good girl,” Leon grunted, groaning loudly as your pussy milked his cock, making him spurt his hot, thick load deep inside. “So good for me. Love you so much, baby.” He kissed your forehead as he slipped his cock out from your hole, using his fingers to stuff his cum back inside. He steps out of the room for a minute, hurrying back with a couple of water bottles. He helps you sit up, handing you a bottle.

“Thank you, Leon.” You open the water bottle and take a sip.

“Anything for my pretty girl.” Leon smiles, climbing into bed beside you. “You okay?”

“Mhm. Just…” your sentence is interrupted by a big yawn. “Sleepy.”

“I think some cuddles are in order then, yeah?”

“That sounds perfect.” You yawn again, snuggling up to him, and laying your head on his chest. “I love you, Leon.”

“Love you too, baby.” he wraps his arms around you as you both happily drift off to sleep.

[fayes-fics]

Enthralled

Pairings: Vampire!Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader x Thomas Dorset

Summary: You and your new husband invite a handsome stranger to your rooms, but all is not as it seems...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, dom/sub undertones, bisexual male characters, slash content, oral sex (f to m, m to m, m to f) blow jobs, deepthroat w smidge of breathplay, facesitting, edging/orgasm control, vaginal sex, anal sex, simultaneous penetration, multiple orgasms, biting, bloodplay, blood-drinking.

Word Count: 9k

Authors Note: The reader remix of this story. A gothic-ish Halloween threesome with Vampire!Benedict. This is my first foray into writing slash content. If you are looking for a plot or backstory, this will likely disappoint; it's just an excuse for vaguely spooky, unrelenting smut - I cannot celebrate a holiday any other way lol. I wanted to choose a minor show character as the husband, and Dr Dorset screams secretly adventurous to me. Please heed the warnings above; this is pretty full-on. If you proceed, I hope you enjoy! <3

Credits: Thanks to @colettebronte for advice and betaing and @eleanor-bradstreet for her Vampiric expertise. Artwork includes edits made weeks ago for this story by our dearly departed @bridgertontess. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Benedict smells it long before he ever sees you.

Fresh blood, sweet young bodies in the flushes of arousal; it makes him hungry in every sense of the word. The almost painful need to feast and fuck. He inhales deep, lewdly, letting the tempting scents fill his being. He pulls on his cloak and goes out to find you.

—

Mrs Dorset.

You practice the name, sitting at the vanity table of your rooms at the inn, feeling cosy in the soft candlelight glow as the autumnal wind howls portentously beyond the window. The quill scratches the paper as you loop the letters, learning the structure of your new name as it flows under your hand.

“What are you doing, my love?” Thomas rounds behind you, returning to your rooms with steaming hot tea as promised.

“I am practising my new name,” you reply proudly, twisting to look up at your husband of merely two days as he places aside the tea tray, squeezing your shoulders lightly.

“Oh, I see, that is… well, that is wonderful,” his cadence wavering. It seems as if he is embarrassed at how something as simple as your desire to write his name could make him burn physically, the glistening, dark, looped strokes causing a primal wash of possession. His fingers flex instinctually, mapping your collarbone, your flesh irresistible under his fingertips. You squeak as he rocks his body into your back, something insistent pressing into your spine.

“Husband,” you drawl, meeting his eye in the vanity mirror. “Are you aroused?” Your question isn't judgemental, but pure curiosity and desire, leaning back into him.

“Yes, darling wife. You have my name. It is…. Appealing,” he answers honestly, a touch winded, his fingers trailing lower over your warm skin onto the swell of your breast.

Your eyes flash in the reflection, and then suddenly, you spin around on the stool and bury your face into his trousers, nuzzling his hardness. His growl is deep and wracked. So utterly undone by how forthright you can be with your intentions. 

You look up at him, fluttering your eyelids as you pluck open his trousers determinedly, push down his underwear, and wrap your hands around the back of his thighs to draw him even closer. Immediately you encase his tasty warm cock in your mouth, so very keen for him. 

He groans to the ceiling as if disbelieving in his luck.

—

Benedict finds himself outside the quaint country inn barely a quarter mile from his country home. No wonder he could smell it so strong. 

As he stares up at a mullioned window, russet leaves swirling around his feet on this cold, crisp night, he sees the glowing candlelight signifying the room’s occupation. Indeed, it is the only one lit as such on the first floor. He surmises the couple are likely newlyweds, perhaps passing through the area on their honeymoon—the first ones who have done so since he was turned a few months back.

While he has trained himself on the scent of the people in the proximal area and taught himself they are not food, he is powerless to resist this. Them. From scent alone, they are in their twenties, and right now, they are engaging in something carnal. He can smell ripe juices swirling in the air along with the thronging of their hearts, blood coursing. It makes his cock strain painfully against the wool of his britches. 

He never used to be like this—a creature of such base instinct. Yes, when human, he had his fair share of lovers of all persuasions, but it had been an occasional bacchanalian indulgence. Now. Now, he can barely contain himself. His tongue licks around the point of his fang, tasting the air, knowing without a doubt they will be under his thrall within moments of meeting and lost in a temporary reverie of how he will enjoy them.

—

“Y/n….” it’s throaty, raw, wrecked, a hand buried in your locks.

His taste is strong in your mouth as Thomas flops back upon the bed, utterly sated after he finds completion. You had pushed him backwards from the vanity table onto the edge of the bed and sunk to your knees before him, eagerly taking him into your mouth, motions wanton, brazen, your skill and enthusiasm blossoming under his few days of tutelage. Learning his body and needs; learning to use your tongue in ways that make him breathless and unerringly grateful. 

You delicately wipe your chin of his seed with a handkerchief and rise to your feet as gracefully as you can as he lays there panting, staring at the velvet drapes over the four-poster bed, his mind blanked out from pleasure.

“Husband,” you coo in a light tease, “I do believe it is now time we took dinner; 'tis nearing 7pm.”

Thomas pouts, looking as if he wants to feast only upon you, not mere food. The grumble in his stomach, though, gives away his status, and your giggle makes him sit up reluctantly, tucking himself back into his trousers and righting his clothes.

“I suppose sustenance is required,” he smiles indulgently, standing up and wrapping you in his arms. “If only to provide energy for our later activities,” he adds teasingly into your ear; a light shiver runs through your being as he says it. 

“Then let us eat, Dr Dorset,” you murmur into his jaw, running a hand down his waistcoat. Feeling light as air, you gigglingly tumble down the hallway and staircase to the public house below, wrapped up in each other’s arms, barely noticing the tall, cloaked figure as it slips in through the main door.

—

Benedict nods to Jenkins, the publican and innkeeper behind the bar; locals always having an open invitation to drink and dine any night of the week. Tonight, the public house is deserted save for a regular - drunkard Willie, propping up the corner of the bar as ever - and the newlywed couple now ensconced in an alcove by the roaring fireplace.

He sets eyes upon you both properly, and his insides almost feel warm. You are both beautiful in ways that make him ache. The man is tall, fair of face and built handsomely. You are just his type of woman physically with a spirited mien that looks like you would be the very best kind of challenge to tame. He longs to strip you both naked and run his tongue down your healthy contours, revel in your bodies, coursing with life.

Taking the brandy awaiting him on the bar, he glides towards you, flicking up his velvet collar as he does so, knowing of his powers and how to wield them to his advantage when needs must.

“Welcome to Wiltshire,” his opening gambit, smooth and dusky, raising his glass.

Both you and Thomas look up, startled at a handsome stranger’s interruption to your intimate conversation. Still, Benedict doesn't miss for a second how both of your eyes dilate rapidly.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Thomas Dorset stumbles, raising his glass without thought in a silent responding toast.

“Please call me Benedict. May I join you?” his ask is unfaulteringly polite, but with a lopsided grin, he has long learned is his ticket to everything he may want in this world.

Dorset immediately gestures for him to do so, despite himself, and Benedict slides smoothly onto the bench seat across from them with a dramatic swish of his ample velvet cloak.

“And you are?” he smiles at you both expectantly.

“Oh, where are my manners!?” Thomas decries as if snapping back to reality. “I am Dr Thomas Dorset, and this,” his arm wraps tighter around your shoulders, “is my wonderful new wife, Mrs y/n Dorset.”

You smile at Benedict; he can sense your apprehension at this stranger joining them but also hears your heart fluttering just a fraction harder as he meets your gaze. Can smell the uptick in your bodily response, a new tang to your natural scent that speaks of piqued interest. He knows with just a few well-deployed lingering looks and chosen words, he could throw you over the table right here in front of your husband and fuck you so well you would beg him for more. Again, he is grateful for the cloak he wears, hiding the bulge in his clothing that has barely slaked since your arrival to the area.

“It is so wonderful to meet you both,” he drawls, running a finger over his bottom lip to draw attention to his mouth. If you stare long enough, the thrall will be so easy. “What brings you to our fine village?”

“We are passing through on our way to Cornwall for our honeymoon,” Dorset confirms what Benedict already suspected. 

“This is rather off the beaten path to such a place,” Benedict states dryly with a wink, knowing he is reeling you in with every word he utters.

“Indeed,” Thomas concedes, “my new wife insisted we come via this route to allow us to call upon her sister during our journey.”

Benedict smiles, subtly scenting your bodies as you and Thomas lean in without realising, falling under his spell.

“Well then, I insist I purchase your dinner and drinks this evening,” he declares, watching bemused as you both attempt to remonstrate. “I will not accept no for an answer,” he appends, victory glowing as you acquiesce, not realising this will be the first of many permissions you will grant him tonight, all being well.

—

You chew upon the venison slowly, one eye on your additional party, still unsure why he has chosen to join you and, indeed, pay for your meal when he apparently is not eating himself. Engaging you in conversation that seems peculiarly beguiling and dangerous all at once. 

He is undoubtedly attractive. Hazy blue eyes under a mass of chestnut hair, a pale-skinned face with exquisite sharp lines. Feeling guilty to admit it silently, you find him just as attractive as your husband, maybe more so—something so hypnotic in how he holds himself, moves, and speaks. Finding yourself drawn to him, a stirring in your underwear that you swear he can sense. Every time a little frisson runs through your body, his head unerringly swings towards you, a slight curl in his luscious lip, like he is smelling your arousal and thinks it the tastiest treat in the world. 

You could swear he is trying to steal you from your husband - and to your horror, you realise you would absolutely let him - except… his attention is just as rapt upon Thomas. Benedict’s gaze is just as covetous when he speaks. His tongue flicks the corner of his mouth as your husband casually leans back and crosses his legs—as if Benedict is scenting his body, too. It's confusing but intoxicating, as if your wine is laced with a far more potent substance.

—

Benedict knows he has won you both over before you put down your dessert spoons, now hanging on his every word. 

“Let us repair to somewhere more intimate for a nightcap,” he suggests, and your joint responding consent is instant. “How about your rooms here at the Inn?”

Were you in your sound, sober minds, it seems unlikely you would invite a stranger to your rooms, but as it is, you enthusiastically do. Benedict snags the remainder of the brandy bottle from the bar as he settles the bill.

“Friends of yours?” Jenkins frowns, vaguely intrigued.

“Everyone is a friend yet to be made, Jenkins,” Benedict answers, intentionally vague.

Jenkins rolls his eyes. “Bloody poets…” he is heard to mutter under his breath, but Benedict lets it pass. If the man invoked the name Byron, perhaps he wouldn't have. Might have stolen a chicken or two from the coup outside to exsanguinate in revenge.

Benedict trails behind you, both pleasantly inebriated now, holding the wood panelling as you negotiate the narrow corridors of the inn to your rooms, inhibitions lowered. He knows you are just in that sweet spot where you will be so open to suggestions but not so out of your minds to be a pointless fuck, unable to respond. There is nothing less appealing to him than a lifeless, limp, unconscious being. Yes, easy to feed upon, perhaps, but no challenge. The only thrill he gets these days is that of the chase. Of the crackling potential of any moment, human hearts beating wildly in his presence, blood pumping hard—that is what brings him exhilaration.

—

Dorset fumbles the heavy iron key in the lock, leaning into you as you giggle along with him. The attractive, imposing man stood patiently behind you, seemingly sober, which is impressive given he drank more than you both. Still unsure what is possessing him to allow this, Thomas nevertheless feels compelled to do this man’s bidding, to allow this whatever he wishes. 

It may be a secret he has kept from you, but Dorset is not immune to the charms of a handsome man. In his youthful days at Cambridge, he had many a clandestine encounter with his fellow students. Late drunken nights of experimentation. He knows the power of a man’s touch, enjoying the taboo feeling of being taken roughly, clawing the mattress as he is mounted without mercy. A man's body may differ greatly from a woman’s, but it is no less of an attractive wonderland.

Little does he know just how soon you will learn of that predilection.

—

You twirl around the room as the men take a seat and pour more liquor, feeling ebullient, basking in the heat of the fire on this cold autumn night, dizzy and fizzling with energy. You feel the gaze of both men, knowing both track your moments from the wingtip chairs they inhabit. Your insides feel ripe and pulpy, compelling you to be daring, a peculiar impulse to strip and dance naked in front of them. 

There must have been something in my drink. Surely?

Your husband interrupts just as you think to act. 

“Darling, come sit with us,” Thomas appeals, patting his knee enticingly.

He would never typically invite you to sit upon him in the company of a stranger, but everything about tonight feels different, so you allow yourself to be swept into it. To see what may arise with the handsome, mysterious visitor. 

You float over and sigh as you fall into Thomas’ lap, the heat of his leg seeping through your dress, warming your bottom. He pulls you snugly into his lap, bumping a stirring hardness and without a doubt, you know this evening will go somewhere you never expected…. And yet, you can't wait for it to do so.

“Isn't my wife beautiful?” Dorset slurs, his breath hot on your ear, turning you both to face Benedict in the chair next to you as if he is seeking his approval for his choice of spouse.

“Indeed she is,” Benedict responds, dark and silky, a shiver tracing down your spine as he voices it. “As are you handsome, good sir,” he adds, and you know they are very much out of your depth as you feel the same shudder pass through your husband's being beneath you.

Oh, good lord, who is this man?

—

Benedict sees you reacting to his voice, sees the ripple in your beings, hears it in your breathing, and knows he has you fully enthralled. You are his to do precisely as he wants now. Tumbling images flash through his mind as to how he can have both of your bodies—sweat and skin, blood and bone, moving together in a carnal symphony. 

His instinct is to take you and then your husband. He can see the willingness there, but he’ll need more enticing to allow that dormant flame to be relit. Perhaps watching you, his new wife, give yourself so readily will be just the nudge he needs to submit, also.

So when Thomas turns to Benedict, offering you on the plate that is his lap, he decides this is the moment to strike. Downing the rest of his glass, he stands and tugs at the string of his velvet cape, which falls to the floor with a heavy whump… to reveal his fitted cropped jacket and tight britches, tailored in black fabric like a second skin, giving away everything about what he has to offer. 

He hears your sharp inhales at the unmistakable tented outline.

“Desire is such a funny thing, is it not?” he rumbles, moving closer, and your legs fall apart on instinct, the air suddenly filled with a potent scent of your arousal that makes his tongue itch to taste.

“In what way?” Thomas hitches, his hands grabbing your waist reflexively as Benedict can hear his heartbeat in his breathy cadence.

“You both want me, and yet you offer your wife to me first,” Benedict assesses cooly, raising an eyebrow as he takes a step closer, watching you squirm as your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

“I did nothing of the sor…” Thomas’s response dies on the spot as one long, slender finger lands on his lips, hushing him, a sharp fingernail resting under his nose.

“We both know you did,” Benedict argues laconically, “And lucky for you…” Benedict almost chuckles as you gasp when his other hand cups your jaw. “…She wants me too. Right now, her thighs are soaked with delicious slickness; I can smell it,” he states casually, holding you both.

“Is that true?” Thomas inquires, side-eying you but not moving under Benedict's finger.

“Yes,” you exhale shakily, unable to peel your gaze from Benedict's face now he has tilted your jaw up to him. “I want him, husband,” you confess raggedly, not knowing why you are voicing it. “And I want you to watch, to participate.”

Benedict chuckles again. “Of course, you do, little one. You love him, even if you are tempted by the fruit of another.” He traces a knuckle down over your chin, your throat, where your pulse is beating wildly, pausing on your clavicle. You know your eyes are wide and beseeching, begging for more.

Benedict swings his gaze to Thomas, then leans in. “If you truly love your wife, you will kiss me right now,” he taunts, his lips hovering so close, “give her a good show; I need her trembling before I take her.”

Come on, sweet prince, dance with me.

—

Thomas can barely comprehend what is transpiring. But he doesn't want to fight it. The man’s finger is cool on his lip as he poses the question. You are writhing deliciously in his lap, making his cock swell painfully against the cleft of your bottom. The next decision is inevitable, fated.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

He gently purses his lips and gives permission by bussing a featherlight kiss onto Benedict’s finger. The predatory smile that unfurls across the man’s face doesn't seem human, more akin to creature than man.

Then his jaw is tilted back, and his world swims as the man closes the few inches between their faces and kisses him. It's biting, hungry, desperate. A skilled tongue rolls over his, and Thomas feels a groan bubble up from deep inside. Possessed, overwhelmed, taken. Benedict tastes like sin but something odd like decay, too, at the edges of the fragrant brandy—some tart undercurrent that is wholly otherworldly and unnerving.

Thomas feels as much as he hears your moan. Feels the weight of your gaze glued to their faces, no doubt seeing a peak of their tongues entwining. Feels the weight of your body in his lap, moving rhythmically, grinding insistently, tilting your hips forward brazenly to drag your clit over the creases in his trousers. Your shameless want and desire are potent and arousing. Even as Benedict’s kiss steals his breath, a faint voice in his head gnaws about your actions being as inexplicable as his, but it's mostly drowned out by the roar of blood pumping hard in his system, seeming so loud around this man, as if he is in tune with it somehow.

As Benedict pulls back, Thomas's vision swims, awash with sensation. He watches, dazed, as the pale man turns and captures your mouth just as covetously.

—

You have only known the passionate kiss of one man—your husband. Yet a mere three days after your first mind-blowing experience of that, you have another first. Your first kiss with another, a whole other creature, not that you can likely comprehend. Unaware of the dance with death. 

When Benedict turns and seizes your lips, you peep in surprise. But he swallows the noise, opening your mouth with his tongue, the kiss instantly intense. It's more of a take than the pliant dance you usually share with Thomas. A plundering that floods your senses and steals every breath from your lungs leaving you feeling shaky, unmoored, and taken somewhere dark that is metallic and brimstone. His kiss seems at once ephemeral and infinite. No wonder your husband looked dazed. As Benedict withdraws, the smile on his face is rapacious.

He suddenly pulls both of you to your feet, like ragdolls for him to puppet. Wrapping you up in a joint embrace, he whispers for you both to strip before releasing you just as swiftly, taking a seat on the edge of the imposing bed. As if in a trance, you begin undoing your own clothing.

“Nuh-uh,” Benedict clucks, holding a halting hand that you instantly obey. “Undress each other, my precious ones,” he elucidates, wanting a show.

Your heart thrums as you turn to your husband and he to you. Invisible strings seem to direct your frantic movements as you paw at each other, fabrics tearing in your swift pursuit of skin. You only stop panting wildly and staring when nothing is left, both frowning in confusion at the flurry and intensity of it.

What on earth just happened?

Uncertainty roils oleaginous in your stomach as if, on a gut level, your body is trying to send a warning signal. Still, at the same time, it feels detached and far away, as if your mind is in another realm, a place of edgy desire and boundless pleasure. 

—

“Well, that was quite the brief show,” Benedict pipes up, bemused. “Not that I am complaining,” he adds, smirking, his eyes raking you both greedily as he runs a casual finger down his cheek.

Your bodies are ideal, as he suspected. The man is tall and lithe, not unlike himself, his skin pale and smooth, his cock, aroused and leaking, springing from a small thatch of hair that tapers to a narrow point under his belly button. So far, so similar. His cock is nice, sizeable but not intimidating, and weirdly he feels pleased for the woman. It is not as good as his cock; he's a Bridgerton, for Pete's sake, but entirely up for the task of bringing satisfaction to anyone who interacts with it. You are his ideal shape, your contours reminding him of a violin. And such an apt metaphor, your strings so ripe to be plucked, to be properly played, perhaps for the first time. 

But mostly, what he tastes thick in the air of the heated room is your fluids. The rush of fresh blood pumping vigorously from your hearts, pulses elevated by the thrall. Sticky, sweet, and life-giving for him and you both. He is so glad he feasted on local farmstock before picking up your scent; otherwise, you would both be dead right now at his feet, lifeless and pale, every drop coursing through his mouth and swirling in his stomach like the indulgent meal your very hearty lifeforce represents. His hunger is slaked just enough that lust is his primary driver, at least for now.

He opens his mouth, engaging all the olfactory senses like a feline. Since he passed, his ability to pick up scents has been both a blessing and a curse, but right now, the best possible outcome from the dreaded experience. 

Thomas’ precum is deliciously sharp, perhaps a shade too much. Benedict makes a mental note to offer him the luxury of some pineapple should this entanglement last longer than tonight, with them both still upon this mortal plain. You would undoubtedly be grateful for the improvement in his flavour, too. 

As for you… his mouth froths. Your scent is sin itself to him, honeyed but also sharp like an undeveloped apple still clinging to the tree. A swirl of flavour in the air so plush, it takes all his willpower not to throw you to the ground and drink from between your legs. Knowing it would only take a blip, a momentary loss of careful control, to sink in his fangs, mixing your juices with your blood, what an absolute symphony of flavour that would be.

He realises he is staring at you both, panting lasciviously, lost in the jumble of scent and potential. You awaiting his next order, not even realising yourselves in suspended animation. 

“Dorset, lie in the middle of the bed,” Benedict orders gruffly, drawing himself to his feet and standing aside.

Thomas does as bidden, his cock bobbing as he climbs onto the raised mattress and settles as instructed, looking at Benedict bright-eyed, awaiting any subsequent command.

“Watch me,” Benedict tutors you, then he crawls over your husband and, without preamble, takes the man's cock deep into his mouth as Thomas howls like he did for you earlier tonight.

—

Thomas almost hits the ceiling as his cock is suddenly surrounded by strong suction, vacuumed into Benedict's mouth. In fact, Benedict keeps sinking, and Thomas pants in shock as his tip slides into the man’s throat, something he has not had in many a year. The tightness, the pure depth of sensation. It seems strange the man does not need to take a breath or even fight as if there is air in his lungs, but dammit all to hell if this isn't already the most exquisite blow job of his entire life. Benedict apparently has no gag reflex; holding him deep, a mind-bogglingly long tongue unfurls to curl around his balls and lick covetously, a wet muscular stroke over his most sensitive skin that has his fingers curling into the sheets. He cannot school the booming, guttural groan. If he had not come merely an hour ago, thanks to his dearest you, he would likely be embarrassingly close to orgasm already; this man’s skill stupendous, another edge that doesn't seem human. 

Thomas looks over frantically to you, his eyes bulging in shock, and he groans again at the sight of you. Your mouth hung open, lips rosy and damp, you have your fingers buried between your legs now, and there is a faint, lewd, wet sound as you invade your cunt with your fingers, just as he taught you on your wedding night. The sight before you is too beautiful and arousing to resist; you know your nipples are puckered, and Thomas’s tongue longs to run over them. 

He wants to fuck and be fucked, sandwiched between you, his ravishing vixen of a wife, and this devil of a man, sucking his very life essence via his cock, intent on draining him dry. Just as Thomas feels a flush all over his body and a tightening in his sac, Benedict pulls up and away, smirking victoriously as he twists towards you, ignoring Thomas’ huffed, wretched pleas.

No! No, please, please do not leave me in this state!

—

You self-consciously whip your hands away from between your legs, and your eyes cut to Benedict as he addresses you.

“That is how you ensure your husband here never leaves you, little one,” he coos, running a thumb provocatively around his drooped lower lip, licking his thumbpad of every flavour. “Now it's your turn; show me what you can do.”

Benedict reaches out a draped hand. You take it, his touch light, helping you hop onto the bed to join them. He snatches your other hand and brings the fingers you had buried in your cunt up to his nose, sniffing lewdly. 

Oh my god, this man is feral.

“I'm glad you enjoyed the show so much,” he smirks, running his nose up and down each digit. “Now I am going to taste you, darling girl,” it's low, akin to a threat.  “You will sit on my face as you take his cock in your mouth, but do not let him come. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, scarcely believing what he says. Benedict scowls slightly as he drops your hand. 

“Don't call me sir, call me Count,” he snaps.

“Yes, Count,” you amend dutifully, and his smile, yet again, is devilish.

“Good, now ensure your husband is mindless with need while I provide you the same favour,” he purrs and slides under you with balletic grace. 

Butterflies roar in your stomach as you feel the sharpness of Benedict's cheekbone press the skin of your inner thighs, draping yourself forward into your husband’s lap and tentatively licking a strip up his weeping cock as he mumbles your name weakly and moans.

Then you scream as a muscular tongue parts your folds with a force Thomas has never subjected you to. Whip-like, lashing your swollen clit with determined spirals before plunging lower and pushing far into your cunt, further than your husband's tongue has ever dared. Your groan is smothered as you take Thomas’ tip into your mouth, needing the distraction. Benedict’s hands grasp your hips and pull you down forcefully onto his face, his nose jammed against your pubic bone. Thomas has never been this engaged, devouring, a violent delight. You garble a curse around the cock, hurtling towards ecstasy as Thomas’ whole body tenses under you.

“Don't let him come,” Benedict reminds, words gusting hot over your slit, sensing what the man’s body signifies better than you do.

You pull off and breathe raggedly, staring up at your husband’s wrecked pleading face, where he leans on the headboard.

What is this? You mouth at him, nearly scared of how good it feels to ride Benedict's face so brazenly.

—

“Do not stop; use him, darling,” Thomas practically snarls through gritted teeth.

He is utterly enthralled by seeing another man taking you somewhere wild and untamed. The look of equal parts shock, fear and bewildered pleasure on your face is a picture he wants to remember forever.

He groans as you follow his advice, wrapping a hand loosely around his cock, a tease that makes his brain itch, as you concentrate on riding Benedict's invasive tongue, biting your lip, moaning vocally.

Yes, this is the best kind of sin.

Thomas mutters words, barely cognisant of what but compelled to urge you on. To take from this mysterious man so willing to give to you both, so far asking nothing in return, still fully clothed himself.

The jagged edge of his denied orgasm licks insistently at his mind, begging for release but paradoxically wallowing in the jangling ache of being so close but denied. Making him unable to think straight. As a doctor, he usually prides himself on keeping a cool head when all around may lose theirs, but tonight…. Tonight feels so peculiar. Out of the ordinary, out of control, out of his mind. And somehow craving carnality like a bestial creature, clawing at the bed, watching you be debauched by the same man who made him equally mindless.

—

Benedict cannot get enough. This wondrous pair. The husband was so responsive to his throat, and now you are bewitched just the same. Writhing your nub shamelessly over the tip of his nose, your juices trickling copiously down his nostrils to coat his throat as he plunges and twists his tongue inside you. 

He wants you both so close to ecstasy, so close you can almost taste it, but not let you just yet. The thrill of how utterly base a human can be when dangling over the edge of lust fascinated him before… but now? Now, it’s his primary driver—to make a beast out of man, woman, any human, for them to feel one ounce of what he can. That heightened state when you crave something—so frenzied every base instinct emerges, shows your true nature: growling, greedy, hungry.

So when he feels the telltale ripplings in your cunt, he rapidly withdraws, and as predicted, you cry out, the sound ringing up the walls. He smirks, grazing your inner thigh with his fangs, the urge to sink into your soft skin and drink your other crimson nectar thronging in him.

Not yet, not yet.

The calm voice centres him, even as you keep moving, attempts to frottage yourself vigorously over his face, whimpering, desperate to push over the edge you are circling.

“Shh shh, sweet one,” he soothes, pulling out from under you as you pant wildly.

His hand rests on your lumbar spine to quell you. You slow, whimpering, collapsing forward, burying your face in your husband's lap, his cock leaking on your cheek, your hips swaying in the air. Both of you are shaking, sweaty and overwhelmed.

That’s it; we are getting there now, my darlings.

—

This doesn't feel right.

That voice is whispering again, but Thomas brushes it aside, ravenous, rooted in his body. Yearning to know what is next, a willing marionette in this sinful theatrical.

His mouth goes dry as he watches Benedict slide off the end of the bed and tug at his clothing, buttons popping open until lithe alabaster skin glows in the soft, flickering firelight. Shadows play over lean, muscled torso. He is beautiful: lean, virtually hairless, carved like a marble statue, just as pale and smooth. In fact, his beauty seems too ethereal, like his skin is no longer capable of tanning in sunlight. Still, Thomas longs to touch him, run his tongue over the sharp lines, and kiss every stunning contour.

“Y/n…” Thomas softly shakes your shoulder as you are still whimpering facedown in his lap. When you weakly raise your head, he nods for you to turn over and see the show you have been missing, Benedict now reaching for the buttons on his britches.

Lethargically, you flip over, your head cradled in Thomas’ lap as your eyes fall upon the man, and you inhale sharply. Benedict seemingly stares you both down as he lowers his britches, a smirk on his face entirely immodest. And when the material relents, you understand why. 

Thomas’ cock pulses against your neck at the sight. He knows you have seen precisely one cock in your life, his, and this may come as a shock. It's larger and prettier, objectively than his own. You nuzzle him, biting your lip as you twist to look back up at him, eyes wide with concern.

“You can take it, darling,” he reassures, intuiting your apprehension as his knuckles brush calmingly over your cheek.

”As will you,” Benedict adds darkly, addressing Thomas. You watch your husband visibly gulp. Then you do the same, tongue feeling too large in your mouth, as Benedict mounts the bed and crawls predatory over your body, a sinful, crooked smile that is at once gorgeous and scary, that cock bobbing ominously as he draws nearer.

—

You feel butterflies under your ribs, unable to look away from his cock, suddenly nervous about the idea he might fuck you. Thomas is a perfect fit; it never hurts and feels designed to bring you gratification, but that? 

It might be too much.

“Don't pretend you don't want me, little one,” Benedict boasts, edged with a darkness that is almost chilling.

“I-I do,” you stutter, unable not to speak the truth, your legs falling wider open reflexively.

“I know, I could smell you from 500 yards away; it drew me in like a clarion call,” he sighs wistfully, and it doesn't sound like he is exaggerating. 

Benedict roughly grabs both of your legs and pushes them up and apart, making you gasp. Leaning over, he draws Thomas into a sinful kiss above you, making you mewl slightly at the sight, a burn in your tendons from the position, head now pulled out of Thomas’s lap onto the mattress.

“Hold her ankles,” Benedict orders over Thomas’s lips, gesturing to take over the hold. “Keep her wide and open for me, my prince,” he purrs as he leans away to slide a pillow under your shoulders, your head tilted backwards.

“Why like this?” you ask falteringly, feeling odd staring at Thomas's thigh upside down.

“So your husband can easily use your mouth as I fuck you, little one,” he explains calmly, hands now raking your flesh as he pulls you into position.

Nerves flare brightly in your belly, Thomas’s grip around your ankles harsh as he holds you so wide open. Then, there is intense pressure around your weeping hole. You whimper, your body quivering at Benedict’s attempted entry. He reaches up and touches your temple with two fingers, and the strangest thing happens; a preternatural calm soothes your mind, breath slowing, body pliant, racing now with nothing but want.

“Good girl,” Benedict tutors as he slips inside your body, the invasion blunt, the stretch as thrilling as it is raw. 

He keeps pushing, the heat and size so much you can think of nothing else, even as Thomas shuffles closer, his cock nudging your chin, also demanding entry. 

For someone innocent merely days ago, you willingly, excitedly, let both men slide into you at either end, your husband stealing your breath as he invades your mouth deeply, Benedict pushing you so wide you can feel him moving below your belly button as he bottoms out. 

You feel them lean in towards each other above, Thomas sliding deeper as the sound of them kissing fills the air. You ache to see them, their mouths hot and entwined, but all you can do is close your eyes, swamped in sensation, so much hypnotic heat and scent. Fingers, you don't even know whose, pinch your nipples as both whisper your praises as they start to move in tandem, rocking into and out of your body in the same rhythm. They start slow, allowing you to draw breaths around Thomas' tip before he slides deep.

The drag of Benedict’s cock makes you moan; you can feel every contour and vein, your channel clinging tight to him, a noise of slickened suction as your body struggles to accommodate him.

But they begin to move faster, and you have to breathe through your nose, the insistent press of Thomas’ balls giving you limited air. The struggle makes it heady and soporific, like you can’t get enough and wants to die right here with both men buried deep inside you. You writhe as pleasure courses in your veins. Already pushed so close to coming, pliant and obedient to their use.

—

Benedict looks down upon the filled body of the woman beneath him and groans. Your cunt, such a tight wet vice surrounding him, delicious squelching sounds as he plunders you with increasing speed. Your plush lips wrapped around your husband's cock, your throat exposed and dewy with sweat, his teeth itching to sink into the vein bulging prominently as you fight to take him as well as swallow and breathe. He can’t help but reach down and run a sharp-pointed fingernail over your diaphragm, fascinated by the play of delicate muscle and bone as you ripple under his touch. 

“Such a good little thing, and only recently plucked; you are a lucky man,” Benedict opines, his voice gravelly even to his own ears, looking up again to the man in front of him.   

“Yes, I am,” Thomas agrees, and Benedict sees the imploring look in his eyes, begging for another kiss.

“Come here, sweet prince,” Benedict murmurs, feeling a spike of victory as Thomas effusively leans in, lips glistening, flushed and plump.

As they kiss anew, Benedict runs a fang over that juicy lip, wanting to sink down and bite, feeling his life force pulsing so strong right there underneath ripe, fleshy fibres. Thomas's hands twine around Benedict’s neck, his tongue tentative, asking for entry, and Benedict swirls and sucks upon it greedily, only breaking when he hears your attempted gurgling of words, your hands wrapped around your husband’s fuzzy thighs, requesting reprieve.

“Slide deeper; make her take it just a touch longer,” he growls into Thomas's ear, teething his lobe. “She will be feisty, but the lack of air will deliver her so close to rapture,” he counsels as Thomas thrusts and holds still. You start to struggle with muffled calls of increasing urgency. “Now slide out,” Benedict advises moments later, and Thomas follows his bidding. 

Benedict moans as your whole body judders as you gulp deep breaths. “Perfect. Oh, my prince, you should feel how tight she gets when she’s fighting to breathe; dear god, it’s the best kind of pain.” He stutters, tone deep, wrecked, stupefied by the grip of your convulsing cunt.

What a perfect little thing. I want her as mine.

—

Thomas is also panting, the tightness of your throat squeezing him so close to orgasm for what feels like countless times tonight. He falls back against the headboard instead. To watch. To watch you, his once angelic wife, be taken, wrecked, destroyed by this gorgeous creature. 

Your eyes shoot open as you realise he has withdrawn. 

“Husband,” you reach a shaky hand up above your head, glad when he takes it, watching your body roll with each punishing thrust Benedict takes, his eyes seemingly fixed upon the hammering pulsing in your neck as you ratchet higher, his tongue slipping out of his mouth in a wanton glistened point.

Just as you are pushing your hips into each thrust, screaming with ecstasy, Benedict pulls out, and Thomas feels your anguish as you suddenly cry out, your whole being heaving with unmet needs, eyes pleading.

“Do you miss my cock already, little one?” he preens, trailing your own musky juices over your belly as he teasingly passes his cock over your heated skin.

You nod viciously and growl, Thomas barely recognising you—a creature reborn of pure lust and submission. Craving this man in a way that makes jealousy and want war uneasily in Thomas’ gut. You have never been this feral for him,  your husband, but yet he completely sympathises, feeling the same pangs of want to be taken, wrecked, destroyed endlessly by this thing resembling a man.

“Alas, that is your misfortune, my beautiful thing, for ‘tis your husband's turn now,” the cold glint in his eyes and the harsh lines of his razor-sharp cheekbone glowing as yet again he leaves you a whining, whimpering mess, your body leaking, your voice hoarse, more wild animal than woman. As Thomas lifts his gaze from you writhing to Benedict, one thought haunts his very being with a growing disquiet.

What exactly are you, if not man?

—

You feel inhuman, something clawing at the edges of your mind that feels like madness. A desire to be possessed by this man. Your insides branded as his. So when he withdraws just as you are fluttering once again, it feels like insanity, like sandpaper drags over your brain, your toes and fingers stiff from flexing so hard in utter wretchedness.

This is ecstatic torture.

“Please, my Count,” it’s forlorn, ragged, almost not recognisable as your own voice, your throat still sore from the harsh tip of your husband's cock.

“No, little one, it’s only right you should take your husband's seed, not mine,” he clucks, even as he rakes his hands covetously over your sweaty body, his tone sounding reluctant as if trying to convince himself as much as you.

“Sweet prince, claim your wife,” he calls, clamping a hand around Thomas's neck, compelling him to slide over you.

He does as bidden, and you groan as the familiar stretch of your husband's cock overtakes your senses. Not nearly as punishing or brutal as Benedict, but curved perfectly to glance at that spot inside that makes you clamp down and scream with every pass.

“Darling,” Thomas's familiar voice whispers in your ear, and it’s a balm you need, centring you on him and his lovely face, moving over you in a surging wave.

“Thomas, my love,” you call, wrapping your limbs around him and taking comfort in his embrace, his body, familiar and musky, a flavour you know well dripping on your tongue as you kiss his salty neck, mumbling encouragements, your heels digging into his bottom.

Benedict watches you from behind, and when you look beyond Thomas, you see eyes inky black with desire, fingers ghosting Thomas’s back as if wanting to flay his skin open.

“Are you ready for me, my prince?” Benedict purrs in a way that makes even you shudder, unable to look away from his tongue as it slides into Thomas’ ear.

—

Benedict reaches for the vial before Thomas even moans his weak assent. The smell of clove swirls as he unseals a small vial and pours it down Thomas’ crack. 

He can taste how much Thomas wants this, a heavy fug of desire in the air that is his pheromones begging more than his words ever might. 

Thomas shudders, and his movements falter as Benedict slides a finger between his cheeks and swirls the oil over his heated skin, over his puckered hole and his balls. 

Benedict can feel the weight of your stare over Thomas’s shoulder. Intrigue and desire. You have likely never seen a man fuck another man. Certainly not your husband. Certainly not while he is inside you. 

Little one, hold on tight.

—

Thomas is staring into your eyes when Benedict’s cock slides between his cheeks, demanding entry.

He knows he has stilled his movements, and his breathing is ragged and uneven as that long-forgotten breach occurs. He groans loudly; it's the largest he has ever had inside him, and the burn is intense.

“Are you alright, my love?” you call, holding his face delicately and stroking his cheek.

“It’s intense, my love,” he answers through gritted teeth and a shaky exhale as Benedict keeps inching slowly into him. 

He’s never had his cock buried in someone while being fucked before; intense exhilaration and so much stimulation. To fuck and be fucked simultaneously.

When Benedict bottoms out, Thomas collapses onto you, his elbows sinking into the mattress under your armpits, his hands clenched in fists over your breasts.

You reach for one and pries open his fingers, silently bringing the hand to your mouth and kissing then sucking his fingers as if his cock, a tease that titillates and distracts as Benedict starts to rock in and out of him. Thomas cannot look away from your mouth, your pleading eyes no doubt telegraphing your devotion and lust.

My darling wife…

—

You feel the moment Benedict moves within your husband, his motion a catalyst to the slide of Thomas's cock within you.

He has found a way to fuck us both.

It is all your mind can think as you watch your husband's face contort a thousand ways, rapture and fear, his whole body becoming a puppet stuck between you and the Count.

“Can you feel that?” Benedict growls, staring you down, eyes black now.

“Y-Yes,” you stumble, seeing something wild in him that genuinely scares you now, your tummy oily even as your clit twinges with pleasure, your husband's cock being driven into you at a pace that you know will make you come within moments.

“Good… don’t you dare look away from me,” Benedict growls when your eyes stray to Thomas.

You obey but watch with growing disquiet as he smiles wickedly wide. Two extended ivory fangs glow in the low flickering firelight. His tongue licks over them provocatively, drawing your attention.

What in God's name?

“God can’t help you now, little one,” Benedict sniggers ominously, and your heart pounds that he can read your mind. “Indeed I can,” he winks, making you gasp.

You are trapped. Trapped under your almost rag doll-like husband, his groans gusting hot into your neck now as he is slumped over you, being fucked so harshly by Benedict, hips snapping as he stares you down, pointed nails scraping down Thomas’s back, his entire mien a sinister seductive leer.

“You are mine, both of you,” Benedict declares. It’s dark, possessive, unearthly. 

Confusion rips through your being as, for the first time, you see something other than man—a creature. Utterly terrifying, beguiling, erotic. A shadow moves over his face that is all menace and not of this world. Yet, at the same time, your body is so close to ecstasy, a taut thread holding all your muscles so close to breaking. Horror, fear, lust, and want are a continuous swirling loop in your very being.

Time slows, treacle-like, as you start to convulse despite yourself, taken over the edge by the carnal push and pull of Benedict fucking your husband into your body. Clinging tight to Thomas, you watch in slow-motion as Benedict leans down, those fangs looming large. Then, you feel a searing, sharp pang as they make contact with the meat of your arm, where it is wound around Thomas’s neck. Utter terror grips your heart, even as a flood of chemicals so strong courses into your bloodstream. Strong suction over the wound has you screaming, pure unbridled ecstasy, euphoria coursing in every fibre even as it dawns on you far too late precisely what he is.

VAMPIRE!

—

Benedict has only known immortality for a few months when he tastes his forever. Your blood floods his mouth, and it is the nectar he has been seeking since his turn. The thing that calms and sates him. The sweet delight that means he will never leave your side: he is yours. He will feed from others, for sure, but he is imprinted upon you forever now. He shall always be careful never to drink too much to kill you; he needs this taste more than anything, and just a few drops will be enough to keep him sustained.

“My goddess,” he moans, making your eyes pop open, fear but something else, too, swimming in your depths. It's not revulsion; it's anything but–it's yearning, even from your trance-like bliss.

He stops sucking before you lose too much blood; it’s just enough to make you light-headed and extend your rapture. He can feel you convulsing, Thomas’s limp body a conduit for your intense orgasm. Buried deep in Thomas, closing his eyes and feeling the pulses as you milk your husband’s cock, him just awash and pliant, sandwiched between you.

Benedict feels from inside the moment Thomas breaks, feels his balls contract and his pelvis ripple as he groans loud and long, his seed forcibly painting your insides. It’s futility to resist the urge to feast again. Meeting your hungry, consuming gaze as you crest a secondary wave, he sinks his fangs into the nape of Thomas’s neck, the man calling out lustily. And as he sucks greedily, Benedict falters and moans hard. It's like Thomas’ flavour is the other puzzle piece he needs. The ying to your yang. Together, the taste in his mouth is a symphony. A magnum opus, what feels like the very reason he now exists such as he does.

“My prince, my king,” he garbles, roughly suckling from Thomas's neck, watching the crimson line of blood ooze down his spine and licking it covetously, wantonly, his very purpose.

And it's the catalyst that flings him into the cauldron too, a shuddering snap that consumes his whole body and has him coming so hard he cannot hold himself on his knees anymore, slumping onto Thomas, panting as he empties, a visceral unloading that feels like the very best catharsis.

—

You have never known paradise like this. A continuous loop of thrill; every time you think it is over, you feel first your darling Thomas and then your beautiful nightmare Benedict come, and it pushes you over another precipice. Each is as precious and encompassing as the last. 

The weight of them both slumped upon you as the shudder is something you cannot withstand, and you have to call out in protest. Somehow almost preternaturally, they rearrange around you, a tangle of limbs, sweat, cum and blood entwined like a knot of vipers as you all find a comfortable hold, panting hard from the exertion.

“What are you??” you demand, ragged, staring Benedict down around Thomas, who seems to be hovering semi-conscious, his face a picture of complete rapture.

A finger traces down your cheek as he does the same to Thomas, which you track askance. 

“Darling precious, you already know. I’m your worst dream masquerading as your perfect fantasy,” he chimes. “And I am yours forever.”

“To which of us do you speak?” you gulp, barely able to form the words; your whole world tilted and forever changed.

“You see, therein lies the beauty,” Benedict smiles, running the edge of his incisors first over Thomas’s neck as he groans drowsily, then yours, making you inhale sharply. “I speak of both of you.”

Thomas twists and places a sleepy, sated kiss on you and then Benedict.

“Enthralling, is not, my love?” Thomas slurs, nuzzling you both. “We have our very own creature of the night.”

“You knew?!” you stutter, disbelief warring with every other emotion alive in your body.

“Mmm,” he hums peacefully. “I knew on some level from the moment he kissed me. And yet here we are. Hearts still beating, bodies utterly sated. This is the best possible outcome. I, for one, cannot wait for every adventure with our delicious Vampire,” Thomas lazily pats Benedict's cheek, who smiles and kisses his temple. 

You are rendered speechless.

“Come on, y/n, my goddess,” Benedict goads, his tone dusky and irresistible as his lips ghost your husband’s, his long pale fingers smearing a droplet of blood into your breast, spidering over your flesh in a way that already has your cunt swelling again. “I am yours. And I can give you such pleasures every night,” he promises.

Well, that is perhaps the most enthralling prospect of all.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

[cloudcountry]

Hope i made it b4 slots closed LOL! can i request the savanaclaw dorm headcanons with how theyd treat a younger sibling?

SUMMARY: your life as a younger sibling to savanaclaw.

COMMENTS: honestly i kinda just went off in lala land and wrote about what it would *be* like to be their younger sibling so i hope its fine ARGH

It would be easy to say that Leona would brush off his sibling, treating them like they’re a ghost and that they’re not even there. But ultimately, I think it comes down to how his younger sibling interacts with the royal family. If they find that they want to be part of his brother’s rule and take his side, Leona will then distance himself accordingly.

However, if his younger sibling wants what's best for the people, if they're aware of the suffering and the poor and wish to help them directly, Leona will take them under his wing. He leans more on the side of tough love, but make no mistake, Leona cares for them dearly, just as he cares for the people he watches over at Savanaclaw.

Rest assured that under Leona’s care, if you let him guide you, you’ll become a strong leader with even stronger magic. He may not say it all the time, but he likes having you around. Even more than that, he’s thankful someone understands his situation.

Ruggie as an older sibling would mean the two of you wouldn’t get to see each other often. Your reliable big brother will always be working early mornings and late nights, bringing back whatever he can for you and the other kids.

He tries his best to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes he just can’t. Being Ruggie’s younger sibling means learning how to fend for yourself, even after he’s become buddy-buddy with Prince Kingscholar.

Ruggie is a wonderful and dedicated older brother. You’ll inherit his drive and work ethic, that’s for sure. But you’ll also know what it’s like to have to fight tooth and nail for the food on your plate.

Being Jack’s younger sibling means looking up to your older brother hardcore. He’s so strong, and so smart, and so competent! You want to be just like him when you grow up! Jack grows embarrassed at the praise every time, but he takes a lot of pride in his work and is glad you’re noticing.

Because of how impressive he is, however, the people in your life may end up creating a rift between the two of you. They’ll ask you why you can’t be more like him, why can’t you do this or that like him, why couldn’t you have made it into NRC like he did. And so, you go to RSA instead. You two may grow distant over that.

It’ll take work on both of your parts to mend your relationship after your school days. Jack was always more worried about you, not knowing how to talk to you about it without risking the divide between you growing deeper. You’ll have to clarify that you wouldn’t have done that, you were just sick of being compared to him. It’ll take time, but you’re taking the first step, and that's what matters.