#its nice leather material too

[illyrianbitch]

An Evening Reunion

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission. You talk to him about your day, but he’s far more interested in you—and your silk nightgown.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship fluff, lil domestic moments, az coming home from a mission, reader serving cunt in a nightgown, suggestive sexual content, basically dry humping, boners, and allusions to sex

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

based on this ask!! youve done the lords work!!

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The evening was still and quiet, a content feeling lingering in the air as if the world had enjoyed its day and was happily ready to yield to the night.

It had, indeed, been a good day, a really good day. You had no complaints— except one. You missed your mate. Azriel had been so busy recently, chasing fading whispers and potential leads. He was running himself ragged, returning every night exhausted and sore. What would make today perfect for you was something you were sure would make Azriel’s day end properly— a nice, warm embrace.

Faintly, your ears picked up the sound of the door opening, a small creaking that you’d grown to love. Your heart leapt as you pushed yourself out of bed, the floor cold against your bare feet as you made your way out of the bedroom and through the hallway.

A window was open in the living room, a decision you had made earlier to welcome the beautiful weather. You had forgotten about the decision until now, until the cool breeze met your body and you shivered, nipples hardening under the thin material of your silk nightgown.

A familiar scent of night-chilled leather and something uniquely him filled the room, carried by the gentle night breeze. You took in a deep breath, letting the air and the smell of your mate fill your senses. A smile began to gnaw at your lips as you rounded the corner, eyes landing on Azriel’s form.

His wings were folded tightly against his back as he shrugged off his jacket, shadows swirling and flickering around his form like restless children. You knew that they got tired on these long missions sometimes, too. Your heart ached at the sight of two beings you loved so dearly being so evidently exhausted.

Sensing your presence, Azriel’s eyes immediately found yours, and the weariness in his face softened into a look of pure affection. His movements stilled, shadows seemingly calming, then, as if sensing his relief. Within seconds, they surged towards you, encircling you in a cool, loving embrace. You laughed softly, the sensation tickling your skin.

You smiled at your mate. “Welcome home.”

His gaze softened even further, a deep warmth kindling within your chest as he tugged on your bond— that divine, beautiful bond.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured, crossing the room in a few long strides. He brought you into a quick, tight embrace, a hand placed on the back of your head as he pressed a faint kiss to your forehead.

When he broke apart with a sigh, you reached up to run a comforting hand over his arm. “Rough day?”

He shrugged, but his shoulders relaxed under your touch. “Better now.”

You gave him a sympathetic glance, brows furrowing at the tension etched into his features. You took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Azriel only nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as he followed you down into the hallway, closing the bedroom door with his heel as you pulled him inside.

Piece by piece, you helped him remove his leathers, fingers softly undoing the buckles and straps. You let out a small laugh at the motions, memories of the start of your relationship bubbling to the brink of your mind— a time where you’d struggle to remove these same buckles and straps, when you’d get so frustrated and curse both your mate and his clothing. Not that you knew he was your mate at that point, but something inside you had convinced you that he was worthy enough of the patience it took to navigate the countless aspects of his fighting leathers.

“What is it?” Azriel asked softly, “What's so funny?”

You shook your head, drawing your lips in between your teeth. “Just remembering a time when I couldn’t remove these damned things.”

Azriel let out a laugh then, too. “And now look, you’re an expert.”

You looked up to meet his eyes. “I know. Call me the mate of the century.”

He let out another small chuckle, a dimpled smile forming on his face. A wave of silence fell upon you as each piece of clothing fell to the floor with a soft clunk, a sound made from both the metal clasps and the hidden assortment of weapons inside. Picking it all up was a problem for tomorrow. You made a mental note of it and stored it away in your mind.

Azriel let out a sigh of relief as the final pieces of his armor fell away. He peeled off the rest of his clothing, leaving him in just his underwear as he took a step closer to you. You tried not to stare at the beautiful form before you, at the ripple of his muscles. Gods, it was a sight you’d never tire of.

“Come here,” he said, gently pulling you onto the bed with him. He laid back against the pillows, his wings spreading slightly to accommodate your weight as you settled yourself atop him, straddling his hips. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the silk of your nightgown, a cool trail of shadows following and exaggerating his every move.

“Tell me about your day.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “Nesta and I walked around town for a bit. We found this little bookstore she loved. And then I baked with Elain. We made those dark chocolate cupcakes you like.”

He hummed appreciatively, hands rubbing gentle circles on your hips. “Sounds nice.”

You started to roll your hips, slowly, almost absentmindedly— a movement that you’d grown used to from other times spent in this same position. “It was. Elain sent some home for you.”

Azriel’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his attention divided between your words and the steady, tantalizing motion of your body against his. “I can’t wait to try them.”

His fingers traced up your sides, one hand gently pushing your hair away from your neck to expose the sensitive skin to him. You shuddered at his touch, at the light brush of his fingertips. His hands were still cold from outside, and the tendrils of smoke, of shadow, that wrapped around his wrist made the feeling even stronger.

“And then we… oh,” you whispered, breath hitching as his nose brushed against your neck, face nuzzling into the crook of it. You felt the heat of his breath against your skin as he traced a path up your throat, a warm ripple of excitement running down your spine.

You tried to stay focused, asking him a question about his day and his input for tomorrow's plans. Cassian’s birthday was next week, and you and Az still had to decide on what you wanted to give him. The plan, supposedly, was to go out tomorrow and finalize your gifts. But your mate's attention seemed elsewhere. You let out a small laugh. “Az, are you even listening?”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, gaze dark with desire, pupils now blown out. “Baby,” he said, “How can I when you look so good, and smell fucking divine.”

You let out a breath as a blush crept up your cheeks, the warmth radiating throughout your body. His hands tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, his arousal now evident beneath you, large and wanting. “No, no,” he murmured, his voice husky with need, “Keep talking.”

“Alright,” you responded quietly, but your heart was no longer in the conversation. Instead, you focused on his hardening length beneath you, at the movement of your hips and the growing heat in your stomach. Azriel’s breathing grew more labored beneath you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. “And then we—”

You faltered as Azriel began to roll his hips, a whine leaving your lips as his hands slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He pulled you into a searing kiss, mouth slotting over yours naturally— needy and eager.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, hands tightening around you as he urged you to continue moving against him— a request you gave into immediately, a pool of desire beginning to wet both your nightwear and his. He deepened the kiss, tongue brushing against yours, and there was a certain tremor in his muscles— a barely restrained hunger as he started to thrust up.

His hand tightened around your waist, the other sliding down to grab your ass, guiding you with a firm, insistent touch. His shadows coiled around your thighs as you parted from him, heavily breathing against his lips, “I'm getting the feeling that you’ve missed me.”

Azriel’s laugh was deep and rich, the sound vibrating through his chest as his lips remained pressed to yours. “Unbelievably so,” he muttered, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss, pulling you even closer.

You let out a sound of protest as he pulled away again, but it quickly turned into one of pleasure as his mouth trailed down to your collarbone, pressing heated kisses along your shoulder. The strap of your nightgown slipped down, baring more of your skin to his eager mouth.

"S'pretty," Az purred against your skin, fingers delicately tugging the strap down further. "I like this."

“Yeah?” Threading your fingers through his hair, you tugged lightly at his scalp, drawing his attention back to you. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you and you throbbed as he ran his tongue over his lips. “Show me how much.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

whoever sent that ask....i love u and u got me writing faster than any deadline <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin

[gatorlovebot]

nsfw. mdni. the audio erotia app mentioned is quinn, i highly recommend it.

cw: male masturbation

“no, that’ll be all for today, love.”

it shouldn’t make you stop in your tracks but it does. a familiar voice that somehow makes its way to you over the din of the grocery store. the petname is what gets your ears perked up first, you don’t hear love used too often in the upper midwest. but then you hone in on the accent, the all too familiar accent that envelops you in heat and lust while you’re alone in your bed.

but it can’t be him.  the owner of the voice that you listen to to help get off isn’t in your local grocery store, right? but then you allow yourself to survey your surroundings, trying to subtly pick out the lone Brit that has a way of making you wet just from his voice alone. you think you spot him at the deli counter, waiting for something to be sliced. he’s tall and dark, hair covered by a well worn dark blue baseball hat. 

you discovered “gaz” months ago online, scrolling through dozens of audios on the website before pausing on one of his boyfriend roleplays. you weren’t one to be attracted to accents, but his profile picture is what got you. it was a shot of his side prolife leaving you only able to pick out a few details but it checked all of your boxes. dark eyes. broad nose. full lips. 

the man in the little picture you look at while bringing yourself to orgasm looks an awful lot like the man stood just a handful of feet from you. you try not to make an audible noise of shook when you hear his voice again, “thanks, love, appreciate it.” there’s a tiny voice in the back of your head that tries to convince yourself that you’re crazy, that you’re just projecting, but you allow yourself this little victory. it was him. the man whose voice had you writhing against the sheets. the man who could have you laughing to yourself at his snarky little jokes and then have you moaning as he groans on and on about your soft thighs and big fat arse. 

but now what were you supposed to do with this information? it’s not like you could approach him, what would you even say? you virtually know nothing about him, he doesn’t have any social medias linked to the audio erotica website. you’ve always figured gaz was some sort of nickname. but now you can at least see he dresses well. his dark trousers fit him quite nicely, the material stretching over his thighs. his dark leather boots shine against the fluorescent lights and he’s wearing a soft sweater that stretches against his shoulders. and he’s nice to service workers. 

you try not to melt on the spot. 

you’re knocked out of your gleeful reverie when he turns away from the counter, dropping his deli item into his basket. the giddy, little smile that had graced your lips falls from your face as his gaze meets your’s. your body goes hot with embarrassment and the only thing you can think to do is quickly turn to the display next to you and pretend to be seriously considering the items on the shelves. out of the corner of your eye you see him approaching you and as you reach up to blindly pull an item off the shelf, not even knowing what it was but pretending to read the nutrition facts and ingredients on the back, something you normally never do. 

you smell him before you feel him, inhaling a waft of spice with a hint of sweetness that somehow fits him so well. you think he’s just about to pass you buy but instead he stops just a pace behind you, reaching over you to grab something off the top shelf. “pardon my reach, love.” he husks, a hint of a smile so clear in his voice. he knows what he’s doing. 

your rattled mind can’t come up with an appropriate response because all you can think is it’s actually him. he slinks off behind you and you take a deep, grounding breath before walking off in the opposite direction. the grocer isn’t that big so you quickly make your way through the rest of the store grabbing your last few items with your head down, trying not to make anymore eye contact with the hot stranger that you’re intimately too familiar with. you luckily make it through self checkout without seeing him again.

-

after a few long days at work you almost have been able to put gaz out of your mind completely. you wake up at the crack of dawn, run yourself ragged at work, and when you get home from you barely have the capacity to feed yourself. you usually make time for self care late at night with the help of a smooth british accent but the last couple days you’ve been avoiding the website altogether. you tell yourself it’s just because you don’t have the time or the energy for it, but you know deep down the embarrassment of him catching you at the grocery store is still lingering. 

and the thing is that it realistically shouldn’t be all that embarrassing. he can’t know that you know him, can’t know where you know him from. but it somehow ot felt like he did, the little smirk he gave you when he caught your eyes ogling him, the way he reached over you, his body pressing against you for just a moment. but he didn’t, he couldn’t have known. but you know. you know the way his voice sets your stomach on fire, you know the way his voice gets you to do things to yourself you never thought you would, the way his voice gets you begging and moaning in the darkness and quiet of your own room. 

you finally break down days later. work keeps wearing you down, but you’re past the point of being dejected and exhausted, today you come home from work huffing and irritated. when you finally lie down to sleep in the early hours of the night you realize that your restlessness is going to keep you up all night. you ignore the pit in your stomach as you finally reach for your phone, swiping it open and scrolling to the app that you’ve been avoiding for days. 

you scroll through all the new audios, none really piquing your interest. you knew that there was going to be something new from gaz but your stomach still jumps when you catch his profile picture. you haven’t looked at his profile since the grocery store disaster but yeah. that’s the guy. something settles in your stomach as your finger clicks on the new audio. the audio description and tags catch you off guard.

I just can’t stop thinking about her. 

[M4F] [Ramblefap] [Unscripted] [Masturbation Noises] [Direct To Listener]

you’re clicking on the play button without even thinking about it, gaz’s voice quickly filling the room. and again, it’s just another confirmation, the voice coming from your phone was the same voice from the grocery store. fuck. 

“i usually don’t do audios like this,” and he doesn’t, his audios are usually scripted roleplays. sometimes he’s pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes he’s pretending to be a friend who's harboring feelings for you, and he has an affinity for pretending to be a vampire during october. he’s quite a talented writer, his dialogues always coming across as authentic and immersive in the scene. but right now his voice sounds almost a little shy? like he’s not sure about what he’s doing. it’s cute, you have to admit, a man who usually seems to be confident in whatever role he’s playing, sounding so unsure of himself as he’s being himself.

“but, i’ve just had someone on my mind for days and every time i sit down and try to write a new script it just turns into her.” lucky broad, you can’t help but think. “so i just thought i’d get it out of my system. well, until i see her again and then it starts all over again.” he cuts himself off with a little laugh and it makes you feel warm inside like you usually do while listening to him. he wasn’t the most personable person on the platform, he used a nickname and didn’t have any pieces of his actual identity attached to his account but he always let little nuggets of his personality shine through whatever audio he was recording.

you hear some rustling in the background of the audio and your mind is supplying a visual of him now, much more detailed and accurate than prior to seeing him. you imagine him laid out on his bed, body long and lean against dark bedding, maybe something blue like his hat. “i should probably start by admitting that i did a bad thing. i know i sometimes pretend to be your sweet and attentive boyfriend, but sometimes i do things i shouldn’t. bit of a bad boy, i fear.” there’s that laugh again, a cheeky little thing. you can tell from his voice that he’s getting more comfortable with this unfamiliar format. it makes you relax, too.

“ran into a soft, pretty thing while i was out at the shops the other day.” you almost don’t hear the click of a cap over your brain malfunctioning, presumably lube with the sticky sounds that follow. it must just be a coincidence, right? he must be talking about some other fat girl he met at the shops, right? “felt a pair of eyes on me while i was waiting at the counter and found her eyeing me up.”

he sighs a soft breath, the slick sounds of his hand on his cock picking up. your arousal is secondary to the dumbfounded amazement you feel at each word he says. “she seemed a little embarrassed that i caught her staring, but i was flattered to have such a pretty thing looking at me like that.” 

you keep trying to convince yourself it’s just a coincidence because things like this just don’t happen. there’s no way that the hot guy from the grocery store is the hot british guy from your audio porn. there’s no way. “her arse looked fucking incredible in the jeans she was wearing and i just, sometimes i can’t control myself around an arse like that. i got up right behind her, and i know you’re not supposed to do that but - fuck- i just needed to get closer.”

his words aren’t as smooth anymore, his voice isn’t as humorous, instead it’s dripping with his usual heat. you almost don’t want to continue listening, almost too nervous to hear any more details, but you can’t get yourself to hit pause. “she was just standing there so i made like i had to reach around her to grab something. sick little thing for me to do, but fuck did it feel good to be that close.”

it’s like your mind turns back on and you’re able to hit the pause button, going further to swipe out of the app entirely before burying your face in your pillows. you were so fucked.

[cordeliawhohung]

Until You

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part 4 of "soft spot"

Simon is the only place that feels like home anymore, and you can't get enough of him.

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving) porn with plot (a lot of plot), porn with feelings, service top ghost

wc: 6.6k

New York City. No one ever talked about the smell.

Warm, wet trash sizzling in the dying heat of the summer, mixed with the suffocating pollution from the countless cars clogging the roads. It was worse than London, in a way. Or maybe Simon just thought it was worse because it wasn’t home. At least the rat infestation was a bit familiar, though not all too comforting. 

Most of all, it was the amount of people that really got to him. London and New York City were roughly the same size population wise, but it was as if the city was more dense than London was. With towering buildings stretching far into the sky, blocking out any sort of natural beauty, it was almost as if they forgot they could build their city out sideways. It was even more odd pushing through them, weaving his way between bodies and stands in the crowded streets. The city was awfully lively for a place that had almost been blown to bits that morning. 

It had been a long week. A long few weeks. The last thing he wanted to do was meet up with Laswell and the others for some sort of debriefing party. In a bar, no less. Though, at that time of day it was likely to be less crowded than the street he tried to slither through, and he attempted to hold onto that thought as his only source of comfort.

“Hey, check this out, L.T.” 

Then, of course, there was Soap. Over their time working together, he had grown closer to him than he had any of his other teammates. He was a nice enough kid, and one hell of a fighter, but walking down the streets of that fucking city with him was going to be the death of him. 

Still, he paused as the Scotsman bounded up to one of the various stands that lined the streets. Some sort of parade had taken place that morning, which meant all the vendors were out and about trying to sell anything from food to handmade goods. The one Soap approached seemed to be selling jewelry ranging from necklaces, rings, and even earrings. Each one of them had that handmade charm with its leather, twine, and gemstones. He wondered how many of them were real stones. 

“Fancy yourself some jewelry, Johnny?” Simon asked, deciding to play along with Soap’s antics for a bit. 

“Oh, you know me,” Soap said, thumbs resting in his pockets while his eyes scanned the items in front of him. 

“Chest candy not enough for you, then?”

The lady who ran the stand must have been the oldest person alive. Her body was covered in age spots and her hair was so wiry and frail he could see clear through it to her scalp. When she smiled, her teeth looked unnaturally white and fake, as the real ones were most certainly replaced with dentures, and there were the obvious hints of hearing aids lining the sides of her ears. Simon wouldn’t be surprised if she had no idea what was going on around her. 

“Not looking for myself,” Soap said simply as he continued to browse. 

Simon stood there for a good few seconds as he allowed his sergeant to have his fun, but his patience was wearing thin. Being out in that crowd had already fried his nerves some, and not everyone was caring enough to hide their odd gazes at his attire. He wasn’t all too excited about getting an earful if they showed up late, either. 

“Here we go, what about this one?” Soap asked as he pointed at one of the items. 

Following his finger, Simon caught sight of a ring. It was a dainty little thing, with a band so thin it seemed like the material would snap straight in half under the pressure of his gaze if he kept squinting at it. On top of the silvery band was some sort of red gemstone. He guessed ruby, but was doubtful about the authenticity of it. He was a soldier, not a gemologist. 

“What about it?” Simon questioned. 

Soap shook his head and hummed a little. “Right. Probably a bit too soon for a ring, huh?” 

Before Simon even had time to question what the hell he was talking about, Soap grinned. It was a devious little grin, and something the man wore often. His hand reached out and grabbed a necklace from off of one of the stands. It was better put together than the ring was, and in his opinion, more eye-catching. Emerald green beads lined the entirety of the necklace, and they were the good quality kind too. The ones that probably were plastic but didn’t look like it. And the way it reflected the sun was rather dazzling too, even he had to admit. 

“MacTavish,” Simon grumbled. 

“What?” Soap asked, though he sounded a bit guilty. “You’re all the way here in the Big Apple. You’ve gotta get a souvenir for Spook. Besides, green looks good on everyone.” 

There it was again, that nickname Soap had coined for you. Despite the fact that he had never once mentioned your existence to anyone on the task force, Soap had managed to see right through him. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide you for mischievous reasons, but he preferred to keep his life at work and his life at home separate. Though, it became a difficult task with that damn Scot meddling in it. 

He would have rolled his eyes at the man if he wasn’t too busy attempting to glare at him. Instead, he shook his head before turning and continuing down the street. 

“If you show up late, I’m turning you over to Laswell,” Simon warned. 

Unphased, Soap turned his attention back down to the sea of jewelry in front of him, along with the ancient lady who hadn’t stopped smiling throughout their conversation. He held the necklace out with one hand while the other dug into his pocket.

“How much for this?” 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Simon never unpacked his bag on the nights he arrived home. He was often too tired from the mix of physical exertion and jet lag. So he always saved it for the next day when his mind was a bit more clear and his body somewhat rejuvenated from what little sleep he managed to get that night. He always started with his clothes first. Rinsing out any stains with cold water before tossing them into the hamper to be washed some other time. Then there were the toiletries, where they’d be brought back to their rightful places on the bathroom counter. 

Other than that, there wasn’t much else for him to sort through. Except for the new item he found in his hand. A small, dainty, green beaded necklace. It was the very same one Soap had showed him while he was still in The States, and it had been stowed away in the same pocket he kept his toothbrush in. Unless the thing grew a pair of legs and climbed in there itself, Simon had a pretty good idea who put it there. 

“Cheeky bastard.” 

Before he could grumble to himself too much about it, a sharp knock sounded on his door. He shoved the necklace into the pocket of his jeans and quickly threw his empty duffel bag underneath his bed before approaching the door. There was no need for him to check through the peephole before he opened it, as he was already expecting someone. 

You stood outside of Simon’s apartment with a bag of groceries in hand, and bundled in a light jacket to fight off the cool autumn air. A grin formed on your lips the moment the door swung open to reveal Simon. It took everything in you not to throw yourself into his burly arms, but god, the very sight of him made you want to melt into his chest. To soak up every inch of him and bathe in the one true person who ever felt like home to you. He had only been gone a few weeks this time, but it still felt like an eternity since you had last seen him. 

“Hey, love,” he greeted you as you slid into the apartment. “What’s all this?” 

“Dinner!” you exclaimed as you scurried over to the kitchen. “Or, at least what will be dinner. I heard the ORP’s you get in the military are pretty shit, so I figured a fresh meal would do you some good. I got chicken, and a salad kit. I hope you like Ceasar salad, because it’s the only kind they had, and…” 

You were rambling, as usual. Once you were aware of your chattiness, you paused and turned back around to face Simon. A ghost of a smile hinted at his lips as he watched you, fingers fiddling with something in his pocket. Another grin broke out across your face as you began to sway side to side. You felt like a school girl looking at her crush. 

“And I missed you,” you said softly, finishing up your ramble. 

That hint of a smile turned into an obvious one. It was still small, as were most of Simon’s expressions, but you reveled in it as he slowly closed the gap that spanned between the two of you. His arms slowly wrapped around your waist and that was all the coaxing that you needed to fall into him. 

He smelt fresh and clean, like he had gotten out of the shower not too long ago. There was a hearty warmth about him that melted away whatever coldness that lingered on your skin. His head lowered so that his lips could press against the top of your head, which only caused that warmth to spread. 

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he said, giving you a tight squeeze. His words were soft and laced with fatigue, which wasn’t surprising. He always got like that after returning from somewhere overseas. Apparently saving the world was a pretty taxing job. But it only made you appreciate it even more that he was willing to let you come over to his apartment and bug him. 

As much as you wanted to stay like that forever, there was raw chicken in the grocery bag, and you were starving. So you raised your head off of his chest and propped yourself on the tips of your toes to plant a quick, chaste kiss to his lips before slipping out of his grasp. His fingers lingered on the curve of your waist for a short moment as he watched you turn back to the counter to sort through the items you bought. Simon never really liked to talk about how his missions went, and you were sure a large part of that was because it was probably classified to some extent. Instead, he aimed the conversation to be mostly about you. So, while you cooked, you talked about anything you could think of. Work and how the computer systems went down on a Monday morning, or a walk in the park you had taken on a Saturday where you saw a bird stealing a sandwich from a toddler. 

Though Simon had attempted to help several times throughout the cooking process, you refused, and ordered him to relax while you did the work. Eventually the entirety of Simon’s studio apartment was smothered in the alluring aroma of your freshly cooked chicken. After setting up the plates, the two of you made yourselves comfortable on Simon’s couch. Or, at least as comfortable as you could get. You didn’t know how he managed it, but he somehow found a couch that was even more lumpy and rock hard than yours. 

“How do you like it?” you questioned with your mouth half full of food. 

Simon took a moment to finish swallowing his bite of food before answering. “Good. Very good. Salad’s alright, though. Nothing special.” 

You tilted your head to the side, curiosity piqued. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, eyes glancing up at you. “Any salad can be a Ceasar salad if you just stab it enough.” 

A laugh left your throat, but not the kind that was sincere. It was mostly in pity, and a little bit in pain. “Wow, Simon. Grabbing the low hanging fruit, are we? Can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that one before.” 

Another soft smile appeared on his lips before he continued eating. He was hardly one to truly smile all that often. In fact, you couldn’t ever really recall a time when you saw him grin, a big toothy grin. At that point, you think that expression on him would probably worry you. 

“You said you went to America, right? New York?” you prodded, stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork. 

“Yeah. City,” he confirmed. 

You could hardly contain the grin on your face as your eyes flickered back and forth between the plate in your lap and Simon’s face. “You know, I read somewhere that someone in New York gets stabbed every fifty-two seconds.” 

“Yeah?” Simon asked incredulously. 

“Yeah,” you repeated, unable to contain your shit-eating grin any longer. “Poor guy.” 

Simon nodded his head slightly as his lips pressed tightly together as if acknowledging the humor in your joke, but he didn’t laugh. “Good one. Have to tell the boys that one.” 

You giggled, this time a real, true one. “Make sure to credit me. You’ll have them all repeating the joke that Lieutenant Riley’s super cool girlfriend shared.” 

The muscles in Simon’s arms tensed slightly at your words, and he paused eating for a short moment before shaking his head slightly and continuing. This didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you were quick to question him on it. 

“What? Plan on stealing the glory for yourself?” you teased. 

Once more, Simon shook his head. “That Lieutenant Riley bullshit.” 

“Is it weird coming from me?” you questioned. 

He paused for a moment while he used his thumb to swipe at a bit of dressing that had lingered on the corner of his mouth. “Coming from anyone.” 

Now that really caught your attention. The way you saw it, this was your opportunity to press a bit more about his work. At least the non-classified parts of it, anyway. 

“Really? Everyone just call you Simon, then? Seems a bit informal,” you mused. But as soon as those words left your mouth, an idea struck you. “Or do you have a call sign or something?” 

You could tell by the way he paused that you were right. He wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was obvious that a part of him was wishing you hadn’t caught onto it. It was talk about work, one of the hardest things to get him to open up about. But this was innocent enough, or at least you hoped it was. 

“Ghost,” he said stiffly. 

“Ghost?” you repeated. “I guess that’s fitting for you. You’re pretty quiet. Does anyone else go by something like that?” 

Finishing up the rest of his food, Simon set his plate so that it was balancing on the armrest of the couch. He sat forward a bit so that he was able to reach into his pocket. 

“Some do. One of them actually… helped me get this for you.”

Simon wasn’t exactly one for gifts, both receiving and giving. His language rested heavily in acts of service. Putting together a new lamp. Buying groceries when there was none in the fridge or pantry. Making you breakfast. So when he pulled out a beautiful green beaded necklace, you were instantly taken aback. It looked so dainty in the palm of his hands, displayed perfectly and waiting for you to take it. 

“Simon,” you exclaimed with a small gasp. Mirroring what he did with his plate, you set it down to rest on the arm of the couch before scooting closer to him. You carefully took the necklace from his hands to admire it further. “It’s beautiful.” 

His eyes watched you attentively while your fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the beads. Everything about you was perfect to him. How gentle you were with everything you did. How you were the exact opposite of him. Where he was quiet and stiff, you filled every void in him with the song of your voice. You haunted his mind, all his thoughts, the empty cavern of his chest. He had felt cold for so long, and when you came along it burnt. But he would gladly burn for the rest of eternity if that meant he could see you like you were in that moment, so happy and full of an innocent glee.

Happy because of him. 

You broke his train of thought when you held the necklace back towards him. At first he was confused, but when you moved even closer to him, he knew what was coming next. 

“Help me put it on?” you asked. 

Of course he would. There would never be a time where he would ever say no to a question like that. So he took the necklace from your hands as you turned to sit away from him while lifting your hair up. His hands brushed against your collarbones as he reached around to get the necklace in front of you. It took him a moment to get the clasp to properly hook together, and you shivered slightly at the lukewarm temperature of the jewelry. He straightened it out on your neck and you turned to face him once more, a smile on your face as you looked down at yourself. 

“How’s it look?” Your eyes found his again after asking the question, and your heart nearly stopped. There was a deep sort of feeling to his gaze, one that you couldn’t quite place, but one that made you feel unbearably warm. 

“Gorgeous,” he responded, his voice deep and hardly above a whisper. 

Something started to expand in your chest. It was difficult to tell if it was because of how he looked at you, those dark eyes glancing over your features, gaze lingering on your lips, or because of his compliment. But it kept growing, and things started to feel too hot, like someone had lit your heart on fire. 

He was so close. So close that you could reach out and touch him after weeks of not even being able to hear his voice. You felt like some 17th century man with your eyes glancing over every bit of him like you had never seen such beauty in your life. That hot, expanding feeling in your chest only persisted, and it was getting difficult to breathe. 

Simon felt like your source of life. Like you were dying without him. So when your hand reached out and brushed against the side of his face it felt like you were able to breathe again. But it only made that burn in your chest, that need, grow stronger.

He was the one to close the gap between you, lips finding yours so easily it was like he was taking the road back home. You twisted your body so that you were facing him as best as you could while sitting on the couch, and his hands were quick to find your waist. His touch was gentle as he carefully rubbed his hands around to the small of your back, tugging you closer. 

But it wasn’t close enough, not for either of you. His lips pulled off of yours for a short second as he hooked a hand underneath your legs while keeping the other one firmly on your back. His strength always surprised you, as it wasn’t something he demonstrated all too often. With his stature and line of work, though, you don’t know why it caught you off guard when he pulled you into his lap as if you weighed nothing. 

“C’mere,” he said, lips brushing against yours once more. 

Giggling, you melted back into the kiss, sitting sideways in his lap. Eventually his hands began to wander some. They slowly slid under your shirt, inching up carefully as his fingers met the bare flesh of your waist. He didn’t venture too far. It was simple; polite, even. Going slow enough so that you could stop him with ease if you wanted, and yet still not taking advantage of it and pawing at you like a hungry dog. All he did was savor the touch of your skin. 

But you wanted more. It was a weird feeling; wanting to be touched. Feeling like you would waste away without it. No, you didn’t just want to be touched, you wanted to be touched by him. By Simon. There was some sort of insatiable need growing in you that only craved him. So you pulled away, embarrassingly out of breath. The moment you did his hands quickly slid out from underneath your shirt, and you nearly pouted at the loss of contact. 

“I missed you,” you said softly. Your hands meandered down to the hem of your shirt where you took the fabric between your fingers before slowly tugging it upwards. He watched you carefully, eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin as you discarded the shirt somewhere on the floor behind you. “I missed you so much.” 

When your lips crashed together once more there was more movement involved, as if you were trying to devour one another. Simon’s hands roamed along your back, staying tactfully away from your bra as the pads of his fingers trailed along your skin, sending a tingle along your spine. It wasn’t enough. If anything, it only made things worse. You were burning alive and you would be reduced to ash eventually. 

“Simon, I…” you said breathlessly as you pulled out of the kiss again. It caught you off guard just how whiny you sounded. “I want you.”

His eyes quickly glanced at the bed shoved in the corner of the studio, and his arm was already making its way underneath your knees again. So you wrapped your arms around his neck, and moments later you were suspended in the air bridal style, held against his body with nothing but his hands to keep you there. It caused another giggle to bubble out of your chest, which only made Simon smirk. 

He could have tossed you onto the bed; gods knew he was strong enough. You half expected him to do it, too. Instead, he set you on the edge of the bed so that your legs were dangling over the side. He towered over you as he stood in front of you, a hand running along your hair. His touch was so soft. He didn’t yank on your hair, or force you to look up at him, he was much more tender than that. God, he was going to be the death of you. Your hands reached out for him and you pulled gently on the fabric of his shirt as you stared up at him, your eyes wide.

“Please?” you asked. 

Doing as you asked, Simon slid the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. It wasn’t a secret that he was fit, in fact, it was to be expected for someone like him. The demands of the military, let alone the SAS, were rigorous, and his body reflected that. Toned muscles shone through thick skin which was littered with an array of scars. Some were so faded you could hardly make them out in the dim lighting of his apartment. Others were so deep and angry they nearly made your stomach turn at the thought of what could cause such a thing. Particularly a rather deep scar that punctured through the muscle of his ribs. 

Continuing to maintain eye contact with him, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against that scar on his ribs. You could feel the way his muscles rippled underneath your mouth in a shiver. He shivered harder than he ever had when you offered the same comfort to the scar on his cheek. 

As if thanking him for being so vulnerable with you, a hand reached behind your back and undid the clasp on your bra, causing your breasts to drop into full view. Once that item of clothing was tossed somewhere to the side, everything fell into place perfectly. Simon leaning down, his lips on yours, your hands tangled in his hair, his fingers pulling off the clothing that covered your bottom half. 

At some point you had fallen so that you laid on your back. Simon still stood at the edge of the bed where he took in the sight of your bare body, with nothing on you except for that necklace. It was an odd look he gave you. Like he was hungry, but not greedy. Like he was savoring every second his eyes drank in the sight of you. 

You bit your lip and moved your legs upwards some so that your feet were resting on the bed, thighs slightly spread. His eyes dropped down, locking onto the soft flesh between your thighs, but only for a moment before he looked at you again. 

Without breaking that eye contact, he slowly lowered so that he was on his knees. His hands gripped your hips and slowly pulled you so that your ass was nearly hanging off the bed. You gasped at the movement, legs flailing slightly as they were once again over the edge. To help keep you steady, he threw your legs over his shoulders as he positioned his head between your thighs. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows in order to keep your eyes on him. Your breaths came in quick and short bursts of anticipation as you watched him. The very sight of him alone made you feel weak. 

“Just say the word, sweetheart,” he said softly, thumbs caressing your thighs as he held them. “If you want it to stop, then I stop. Yeah?” 

Your arms began to shake as you held yourself up, but you nodded your head in response to him. But your nod alone didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy him. 

“Okay,” you said, your hips wiggling in anticipation. 

Then came the kisses. Soft, open mouthed kisses against the inside of your thigh. He trailed them from the bottom of your thigh near your knee, up towards the plush flesh near your pussy. Each movement was slow and careful while his eyes continued to watch your body, looking for any sign to stop. But when you gave him none, he dove right in. 

Stars threatened to blind your vision the moment Simon’s tongue slid along your heat, and your arms fully gave out as you fell back onto the bed. He moved along you slowly and languid, taking his time in trying to find just what made you tick. When his tongue swiped across your clit you found your legs tightening, nearly threatening to crush his head. A soft and breathy moan escaped your lips, which only seemed to fuel his actions. 

“Fuck… right there,” you breathed as your fingers laced in his hair. 

It was the sign he was looking for, and once those words left your mouth, he kept his mouth on you, tongue swirling along that spot that made your legs shake around his head. A part of you thought he was going to stop. That he would get bored of getting you off with nothing in return and would request something of you instead. But Simon was like a hungry dog that was tossed a bone; a salivating, grunting mess as he ate you out. And god, you had never felt such pleasure. A tight knot formed in the core of your stomach as he continued drawing shaky moans from you. 

It was divine. Not just in the burning sensations he ripped from your body, but the numbness that settled over your mind. There was no worry, no fake pornographic moans, no acting. There was just you on your back with Simon’s head between your thighs as he devoured you. 

That knot only grew tighter in your body as he continued, and your moans quickly turned into whimpers. Your thighs began to shake and clench uncontrollably, forcing Simon to put a hand on the inside of your legs as a gentle reminder to not smother him before he was done with his meal. 

“I’m… fuck… gonna cum,” you said, words punctuated by heavy breaths as your body instinctively tightened. 

But he didn’t let up, if anything, he moved faster. Tongue ravaging your clit, large hands holding your hips steady, breaths nearly as fast and uneven as yours. Your fingers tightened in his hair like you were holding on for dear life, and maybe you were. Never before had you felt something so sublime yet so close to death at the same time. He continued to pull every single moan and tremble from your body that he could while his groans threatened to overtake yours. 

Something snapped deep inside of you, causing a rush of warmth to flood your entire body. Your breath caught in your throat for a short moment and your legs began to quiver while your orgasm washed over you in a burning heat. Simon held you steady even as your back arched off of the bed. Your mind went blank as you finally breathed again, your entire body shuttering. His tongue continued to work at you, but slowed considerably as your high waned. 

Eventually his mouth left you for the first time in what felt like hours. Simon rose from his knees, carefully pushing you back up onto the bed as he did. A soft sheen coated you as a thin sweat made your body appear to glow. Your eyes felt heavy and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. You felt like you were going to melt into the bed. Hell, you almost wanted to. Melt away into the sheets that smelled like Simon while riding away the last bits of your high seemed like the best way to go. 

The bed dipped down next to you as Simon sat against the headboard, back propped up by a pillow or two. You looked over at him, a smile pulling at your lips as you rolled over, crawling on your hands and knees towards him. 

“Your turn?” you asked, a devilish tint to your voice as you straddled his legs. His jeans were still on, but you knew you could make quick work of it if it came down to it. 

To your surprise, Simon shook his head. That glint in your eyes quickly faded at that, and he reached out for you, pulling you into his chest. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin too, much to your surprise, and as you settled into him, moving so that you were at his side, you couldn’t help but be confused. 

“Might have to take a raincheck on that, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deepening in the way that it did when he was tired. “Fuckin’ exhausted.” 

It made sense. The man did just recently return from being deployed for some mission in The States. But still, it was… odd. No, not odd. Just different. And nice. So, gut wrenchingly nice to be the one taken care of. To have arms wrapped around you, to be held tight, to not feel a burning in your eyes.

To be loved. 

That’s what it was like. It was more than being defended when you were threatened, getting flowers at work, or getting a drive home. Anyone can pretend to be nice. Anyone can pretend to love you. But it takes something different to see you at your most vulnerable, your most exposed, and not take advantage of it. 

“I love you.” The words left your mouth before you even had time to process that they were on the tip of your tongue in the first place. You raised your head off of his chest and looked him in the eyes before repeating yourself. “I love you so fucking much, Simon.” 

Something changed in his expression. His eyes were still warm and exhausted, but something else flickered in there, too. Something faint. Something… sad. But you paid it no mind as one of his hands moved from around your waist to your face, brushing away a stray strand of hair. 

“I suppose I’ve grown fond of you, too,” he said, unable to hide the slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

Really, you weren’t sure what you expected. Sarcasm was Simon’s second language, afterall. So you playfully rolled your eyes at him as you settled back onto his chest. 

“Asshole.” 

But you knew what he meant. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next morning, you awoke to the smell of something burning. It was rancid, and sour, and quite literally stirred you out of your sleep. Your eyes fluttered open. Simon wasn’t in the bed with you, but you noticed that the blanket was smoothed out over your body, and the clothes that had been torn off you the previous night were folded neatly at the foot of the bed. 

Pulling the blanket over your chest, you sat up and glanced around the studio. Simon was in the kitchen, bent over the stove as he cooked what you assumed was bacon. It was difficult to tell over that terrible, charred scent. 

You slipped out of bed and quickly slipped your shirt over your head, not bothering to put on much else besides that. Running your fingers through your hair, you traveled the short distance away from Simon’s bed to the kitchen, where you quickly made your home leaning against the counter. 

“What’cha cooking?” 

He turned to glance at you for a short moment, giving you a quick once over before paying attention to his cooking again. Despite the sleep the two of you got that night, he still looked just as exhausted. You wondered if he got as much sleep as he had pretended to.

“Bacon,” he said simply. 

You hummed in response, watching as he worked the spatula in the pan. However, your eyes began to wander, and just on the other side of him you could make out the source of that foul scent. A few pieces of perfectly cooked toast sat on a plate right next to two, unrecognizably burnt ones. They were casted aside in shame, it looked like, and the sight of it made you giggle. 

“Did you burn toast?” you asked teasingly. 

“I’m a soldier, not a chef,” Simon retorted. 

His response only made you laugh again, and you made your way to the other side of the stove to get a better look at the mess he made. Yet, as you neared it, your eyes were only drawn to the toaster instead. It was an old hunk of metal, and it probably would have worked pretty decent if it didn’t look like it had been thrown down a flight of stairs a time or two. 

“Holy shit. No wonder you burnt it. This thing is fucking ancient,” you said, dumbfounded. 

Simon shrugged. “No use in buying a new one. Hardly here anyways.” 

He was right. With how often and how long he had to leave for work, he was hardly home for half of the year, if that. It was one of the first things you noticed about his apartment. It was a studio, so it was small, and hardly had the essentials. At first you chalked it up to him being a soldier, used to not having much and surviving on so little. But maybe it was something else. 

Still, you shook that thought out of your head as you looked over at him. “Do you want to move in together?” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see every muscle in Simon’s body tense. He turned to face you fully, spatula still in hand as he looked down at you. “Huh?” 

“Think about it,” you said, reaching out to grab that sad, burnt toast. “You say you’re hardly here. If you moved in, we could spend more time together while you’re home, and I can take care of your things while you’re gone.” You paused as you turned around and walked towards the trash. “You won't have a shitty toaster. I’ve got two bedrooms, so there will be plenty of room for your stuff. And, I don’t know. I think it would be nice. You’ve always taken such good care of me, and I’d like to do the same for you.” 

The toast fell into the trash with an unnaturally hard thunk before you turned around to face Simon. He had followed your every move and stood with his back turned to the cooking bacon. His gaze was quizzical, confused almost. Like he was wondering why you would ask such a thing. But then, he looked away and turned his back towards you as he took the bacon out of the pan and set it on a plate on the counter. 

“Are you asking, or just thinking?” he questioned. 

“I’m being serious,” you assured him. 

But his back stayed turned to you as he patted the bacon dry with a paper towel, soaking up any unnecessary grease. It was almost like he wasn’t taking you seriously. No, there was no way he didn’t know you were being serious. Maybe he just couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that someone like you could ever be with him. 

So you took a step forward, feet sliding across the tile floor of the kitchen until you were by his side again. His eyes stayed focused on his work as he began setting the plates. Bacon and toast wasn’t exactly a five star meal by any means, but it was enough for you. 

“You can tell me if it’s too soon,” you said as you leaned against the counter. 

Simon picked up one of the plates and turned to face you. He held it out for you to take as his eyes flickered down to the food. “My lease is up in three months.” 

Simon Riley was a strange man. It was something you were able to pick up about him the very moment you met him. And even with all the time the two of you had spent together, getting to know one another, he was still guarded, in a way. Never one to say I love you. Never one to say yes. But his eyes betrayed every word he ever left on the tip of his tongue, and when he looked at you, his mouth nearly did too. 

“Great,” you said softly, unable to hide your grin as you took the plate from his hands. “Three months, then.” 

Things were so much easier when you weren’t around. When you weren’t standing in front of him, looking up at him like he was your whole world. He used to focus on his work and nothing but it, not caring about the state of his apartment or what food he had to come home to. There was work, and then there was the time in between. That was all it was supposed to be. 

Until you. Where he used to see the skulls that haunted his past, his dreams became littered with your face. Everything in him constantly craved the touch of your skin, the feel of your lips against his, the sound of your voice, your smile. He had faced terrorists and death, had died and crawled out of his grave, but he wasn’t sure if he could survive what you were doing to him. But god, at that point, he would let you destroy him.

[highinmiamiii]

you can be the boss 🦢

Club owner!Joe Kessler x Stripper Reader x DBF!Billy Butcher

18+ smut mdni

(a/n): new installment to club kess! i love this au soooo much kess is such a dirtbag, he’s kinda hard for me to write so i apologize if things are not as smooth sailing as you might expect. i hope you all enjoy this more sugar daddyish oriented smut chapter i was feeling smutty…perhaps we will get more sugar daddy shenanigans in the future before butcher decides he needs kessler gone asap. i love them being jealous of eachother its so hot, anyways

(CW: in general just stay away if you’re uncomfortable by anything sexual bc this is pretty filthy. fingering, squirting, slight daddyish dynamic, arguement w butcher, idk what else)

The dim glow of Kessler’s modern penthouse was a sharp contrast to the harsh reality she faced daily. The space was a testament to excess—a grand apartment bathed in dark marble, glass and metals, where every piece of furniture looked more out of some sort of sterile futuristic hospital than the last. Black velvet drapes, rich and heavy, framed the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cigars and fine leather.

Tonight, she was a vision in a black silk dress that clung to her every curve, the material shimmering under the soft, ambient lighting. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, each step resonating with the weight of her uncertainty. The dress’s plunging neckline and thigh-high slit revealed just enough to captivate yet leave much to the imagination. Her makeup was impeccable—smoky eyes and red lips that promised allure. Her hair cascaded in glossy waves, framing her face in a way that only enhanced her beauty further.

Kessler lounged on an overstuffed leather sofa, his presence larger than life. He had a predatory grace about him, his eyes glinting with unspoken promises. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice smooth as silk. “You look fuckin’ gorgeous tonight. I must say, the way that dress hugs you—” He let the compliment trail off, his gaze lingering in a manner both admiring and possessive.

She shifted uncomfortably, aware of the subtle pressure his gaze exerted. “Thank you, Mr. Kessler,” she replied, attempting to mask her discomfort with a polite smile.

Kessler’s smile widened, revealing a glint of white teeth. “Call me Joe, darling. ‘Mr. Kessler’ makes me sound like a schoolteacher. Now, let’s talk business.” He gestured toward a bottle of vintage champagne resting in an ice bucket nearby, his hand lingering just a fraction too long on her arm as he led her to sit beside him.

As she settled on the sofa, he poured the champagne with practiced elegance, his eyes never straying far from her. “You know, baby, I’ve been thinking about our last conversation. You’ve got something special, and I’d hate to see that talent go to waste.”

Her heart raced at his words. She thought back to the other day when he spoke to her in his office. The promises of stardom hanging heavy between them since them “H-how so?”

Kessler leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m talking about making you a star. Not just any star, but one of those dazzling lights that everyone will want to see. I could maybe even get ya in a film one day”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to read his intentions. “And what’s in it for you?”

A smirk played on his lips as he handed her a thick envelope stuffed with cash. “Absolutely nothing sweetheart, just a little something to show my appreciation. Get yourself something nice to wear. Don’t worry about the details just yet. We’re going to get you out of this town, baby. It’s only a matter of time.”

The envelope felt heavy in her hands, its weight a reminder of her growing dependence on Kessler’s promises. As she hesitated, he reached out and gently stroked her cheek. “Relax, darling. You’re in good hands.”

His thick strong hands roamed their way down her waist, gently turning her over so her back is facing him. He starts to dig his fingers deep into the blades of her back, kneading the skin and helping her release every last knot “Mmm, so tense baby” He huffs and kneads rougher, causing a pleasured gasp to escape her throat “fuck..” She whispers, cracking her neck

Kessler’s hands continued their slow, deliberate work on her back, each stroke more possessive than the last. His breath was hot against her neck, close enough to send shivers down her spine. He was playing a dangerous game—one that blurred the lines between manipulation and seduction.

“Can’t have my girls all tense like this,” Kessler whispered, his lips grazing her ear, voice low and full of promise. “You’ve been carrying too much weight on those pretty shoulders.”

He pushed her hair aside and trailed soft kisses down the back of her neck, his lips lingering just enough to make her pulse quicken. She tensed, unsure how to respond. Part of her mind screamed to pull away, but her body betrayed her, leaning back into his touch, craving the attention despite the warning signs flashing in her head.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers now tracing circles along her hips, drawing her closer into him. “I’ll take care of everything. You just let me handle it.”

His hands roamed lower, teasingly brushing against her waist as he spun her around to face him. Kessler’s dark eyes were filled with desire and power, a dangerous mix that made her heart race. He pulled her closer, into his lap so that she’s straddling his waist.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Kessler growled softly, his hand now caressing her cheek, thumb tracing her lips. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you, baby? The way you move, the way you look at me… it drives me wild.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips crashing against hers with an intensity that made her knees weak. The kiss was hard and demanding, filled with the same possessiveness that had been building between them since the start. His hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as his tongue slid against hers, coaxing her deeper into the moment.

Her mind swirled with conflicting emotions. She knew this was wrong—knew that he was manipulating her, bending her to his will. But in that moment, with his hands on her and his words washing over her, it was hard to remember the reasons why she had to resist.

He pressed her against the wall, his lips finding their way to her jaw, her throat, marking her with each kiss. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispered against her skin, the promise dripping with desire and control. “You won’t need anyone else. Just me.”

Her breath quickened, and she felt his hand slide down to her thigh, lifting her leg slightly so that he could press himself harder against her. It was overwhelming, the way he commanded the situation, the way he took control without giving her time to think. Kessler pulled back just enough to speak, his voice husky with lust. “You feel that, sweetheart? That’s what you do to this ol’ man, eh? you proud of that?” He says teasingly as he breathes heavily into your ear

As his lips found hers again, she kissed him back with a desperation that surprised even her. It wasn’t just the money, or the promises—it was the way he made her feel in moments like this. Powerful, desired, and yet, completely under his thumb. A stark contrast to how Billy made her feel.

The only time she would feel any sort of reciprocation from Butcher when he was off his rockers or blackout drunk. You’d looked up to him since you were a literal little girl. Of course you had a dumb schoolgirl crush on him, but that didn’t matter right now. Not with Kessler holding you like this, making you feel so sexy, so wanted, spoiling you every last chance he got. Fuck Billy. If he didn’t want her sober then she was going to find someone world’s better for her.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, she knew the truth: the more she gave in, the more she’d lose of herself. But then again, it was a much better feeling to have someone want you without having to consume enough alcohol to kill a small animal for once.

Kessler’s hands slid up her waist again, his grip firm. “You won’t ever need to work for those tips again,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “You’re too good for that. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

She pulled back, her breath ragged as she searched his eyes. “And what do you get out of this, Joe?…” She asked, honestly not wanting to deal with her suspicions right now and see him as the perfect man…but she had to, it seemed like a very unfair trade here.

He smirked, that devilish grin lighting up his face. “I get you, sweetheart. That’s more than enough.”

Her mind was screaming at her to step away, to leave, but instead, she stayed there, pinned between Kessler and the wall, completely unsure of where to go from here.

Kessler's gaze held hers captive, his eyes darkening with intensity. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek before tangling in her hair. "Why do you always have to be so unsure about everything, huh babygirl?" he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Kessler's hands tightened around her waist, his fingers splayed possessively over her hips. "You know, when you're being difficult, it makes me want to put you over my knee and spank some sense into you." He growled, his voice low and menacing.

Her eyes widened, her face flushing a deep shade of red. "W-What?... Over your knee?... Like a- a fucking a child?" She stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re sicker than I thought you were Kess” She mutters with a soft nervous chuckle. Kessler grinned wickedly, enjoying her flustered reaction. "Well, sweetheart, you're acting like a damn brat right now, ain't you? Maybe a good spanking is just what you need to learn some respect." His hands squeezed her backside, his intent clear.

She nervously stutters out “Y-you know what- it’s getting late kess—“

Kessler silenced her protests with a searing kiss, his hands gripping her thighs and hoisting her up. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms looping around his neck. "Then perhaps," he said against her lips, "you should show me some obedience instead, young lady."

Her mind was racing, but her body betrayed her, clinging to him as he carried her to the bedroom. She buried her face in his neck, murmuring “y-yes Mr. Kessler”

He hikes her dress up past her ass, his palm smacking loudly against the plump fat, her skin rippling as she yelps in shock “Told ya not to fuckin’ call me that, didn’t I babygirl?”

She gasped as his palm connected with her bottom, the sharp smack echoing in the room. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she buried her face deeper into his neck, letting out a choked sob "Y-yes- m’sorry” she whines helplessly

Kessler's hand caressed her reddened flesh soothingly, his touch gentle despite the earlier roughness. "Good girl." He praised, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's see if you can ride my hand like one"

Kessler felt a surge of protectiveness well up within him. He could feel her body quivering against his, her breath coming in ragged, tear-choked gasps. Her vulnerability stirred something primal within him, a need to cherish and control her in equal measure. She let out a soft, shuddering breath as his hand caressed her stinging backside, her body still tensed from the sudden, humiliating punishment. The heat from his palm seeped into her skin, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. His touch gentled, his fingers trailing along the crease of her bottom, pausing to squeeze the tender flesh possessively before slipping lower. She could feel his knuckles brushing against her thighs, parting them ever so slightly.

Kessler wrapped an arm around her waist and tossed her facedown on the mattress, her breath hitching as she bounced slightly. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her thighs and pinning her hips down with one beefy, tattooed arm wrapped around her waist. His other hand snaked beneath her, groping along her inner thighs until it reached the hem of her lace underwear. He paused, his thick fingers toying with the delicate fabric before he slowly began to drag it aside, revealing the tender flesh beneath.

As he exposed her soaked pussy, he let out a low, appreciative growl. "Fuck, look at you," he muttered, his breath hot against her ear. "Fucking soaked, just for me. dripping all over my sheets, aren't you, sweetness?" Her cheeks flamed with embarrassed heat as she buried her face in the mattress, muffling her moans. His thick fingers parted her folds, slowly sliding up and down her slick crease. “Answer me," he demanded gruffly, punctuating his words with firm pressure against her hole.

“Y-yes” she gasps out softly, wondering how the hell she got here. she had promised butcher that she wasn’t sleeping with kessler, especially not for his money…so what the hell was she doing letting him touch her like this. Her mind raced as Kessler's touch grew bolder, his fingers pumping in and out of her as his thumb swirled around her sensitive little pulsing nub, soaking up her guilty secret. "Squeezin’ me and i’ve barely got two fingers in, got the tightest pretty little pussy i’ve ever laid eyes on, baby" he growled, his breath hot against her ear.

Kessler's fingers curled inward, pressing against her g-spot as he continued to talk dirty to her. "that’s a good fuckin’ girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "let's see just how messy we can get’er, eh?”

She bit down on her lip to silence her cries as he slowly added a third finger, stretching her wide. His touch grew more insistent, his thumb rubbing firm circles over her swollen nub while his fingers pumped in and out of her, slowly gaining speed.

“oh yeah baby, doin’ so well..” he rasped, his tone filled with approval. “This little cunts gripping my fingers so tight, all soaked and sloppy... that old fuck that comes around the club- what’s his name sweetheart?— “

“W-wha—“ She mumbles, rolling her neck in pleasure as she arches her back slightly. “jeeesus- i- i don’t know who you’re talking about-“

“The motherfucker that picks ya up babygirl, think I don’t ask around? Butcher, was it? He bury his fingers this deep in ya like I am now?"

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled moan as he hit that spot inside her again and again. Her eyes rolled back, and she squeezed her legs together, trying to keep his fingers inside her, but he just pushed them in even deeper. Her back bowed, pushing her rear higher into the air as unbridled pleasure coursed through her veins like liquid fire. Each thrust of his fingers against that magical spot sent shockwaves through her core, her inner walls clutching at him greedily, desperate to keep him inside.

"Mmm, does he make you feel like this?" Kessler growled, his breath hot against her ear. "does he make you shake and whimper like my touch does? does he make you beg for his touch, sweetheart?"

"No, Billy means nothing," she stammered, her back arching off the bed as Kessler's fingers hit that magic spot inside her. "We've never— really done anything. He's always drunk, and I've never… never even gotten close to finishing with him…I-I swear…”

Kessler's eyes widened in disbelief as she spoke, his fingers pausing inside her for a moment before he started moving again, faster and harder. "What the fuck, sweetheart? He's never even gotten you off?" "He's not my boyfriend," she gasped, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets. "He's just... around. And when he is, he's drunk or asleep. Oh god, Kess, please..." Kessler groaned softly, his mind racing with the realization that he was likely the only one who'd ever touched her like this, who'd ever brought her to the brink of release. His fingers curled inside her, his thumb rubbing her swollen nub with quick, firm circles. "You're so close, babygirl. I can feel you pulsating around my fingers. You're gonna come for me like this, ain't ya? Y’don’t need him..” She nodded frantically, her body trembling as his words washed over her. "Yes, Kess, yes, d-don’t need him! I've never... I've never even touched myself like this. Only you, only your fingers—and oh god, I'm so close!"

Her back bowed, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as the most intense pleasure she'd ever known exploded within her. It was like a dam breaking, her insides convulsing as waves of pure ecstasy crashed over her. Kessler's mouth dropped open as she cried out, her body convulsing as a torrent of her release gushed out, drenching his hand. "Holy fuck...made my girl fuckin’ squirt" he breathed, watching in awe as her body trembled and quaked.

He quickly moved to clean her up, his tongue delving between her folds to lap up every last drop. She whimpered and shuddered, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as he ate her out like a starving man.

Kessler's face buried between her thighs, his tongue ravaging her soaked flesh as he licked up every last trace of her release. She quivered uncontrollably, her hips bucking against his mouth, overly sensitized from the mind-shattering climax. "K-Kess... it's too much...,"

He gentled his touch, lapping at her slowly, thoroughly cleaning her up before placing soft kisses on her inner thighs and belly. He crawled up beside her, pulling her against his chest as they both caught their breath.

That next morning, sun seeping in through the floor-to-ceiling windows as his his housemaid sweeps the floor. Soft jazz played in the background, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and ease. She, in a delicate white lacy dress that contrasted starkly with the darkness of her previous attire, felt like she was stepping into a world far removed from her own struggles. This dress, with its intricate lace detailing and short little poofy skirt, was both elegant and suggestive—a perfect blend of innocence and allure.

Kessler greeted her with an almost theatrical flourish. “There she is, my starlet,” he crooned, his eyes dark with something akin to possessiveness.

Weeks later, her role at Club Kessler had evolved significantly. She had been promoted to a bottle service girl, a coveted position that allowed her to cater to the club’s high-profile clientele. The VIP area, with its plush seating and private booths, was a stark contrast to the main stage where she once performed. The exclusivity of her new role seemed like a step toward the future Kessler had promised her.

Kessler’s possessiveness, however, became more apparent with each passing night. She, now clad in a glittering silver mini-dress that showcased her toned legs and accentuated her every move, was serving a particularly influential client. As she danced for him, her movements fluid and practiced, she noticed Kessler watching from the shadows, his gaze intense and scrutinizing.

After the dance, Kessler approached her with a dangerous smile. “Baby, I need to talk to you.”

Her heart sank. She followed him to a quieter corner of the club, where the sound of the music seemed distant and hollow. “What’s wrong?”

He placed a hand on her arm, his touch possessive. “I saw what you were doing out there. It’s not what I want for you. You’re not just another girl in this club; you’re special. I don’t want you giving private dances anymore.”

She blinked, stunned. “But… how am I supposed to make money? I work off tips.”

Kessler’s smile faltered for a brief moment before returning with a more sinister edge. “Don’t worry about it. From now on, I’ll take care of everything. You’re not here to earn a living, sweetheart; you’re here to shine.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders. Her independence was slipping away, replaced by a sense of obligation and dependency. The last shred of her dignity—the money she had earned herself—was now a distant memory.

Kessler’s manipulation became more pronounced. The cash he handed her grew in volume, and his control over her life tightened with each passing day. She felt the weight of her dependence on him—a growing burden that overshadowed the promises of fame and freedom.

The bell above the door chimed as Butcher stepped into the shop, his presence a familiar weight that made the cramped space feel even smaller. She stood behind the counter, hands smoothing over a pile of folded shirts, trying not to let her fingers tremble. The shop smelled like old leather and wood polish, mixed with the faint tang of motor oil from the garage out back. It was the kind of place that felt worn-in, like a pair of boots broken just right.

Butcher, in his usual dark coat, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, looked out of place here—too rough, too loud for the quiet, slow-moving world of the shop. His heavy boots echoed off the wooden floors as he strode past the racks, eyes landing on her in that way that always made her feel exposed. He had that same look tonight—like he knew something wasn’t right but wasn’t sure how to ask.

She wore a pale pink dress today, soft and frilled at the edges, the kind of thing that made her feel delicate, though she’d long forgotten how to be. It hugged her figure just enough to feel pretty without trying, but now, under Butcher’s stare, it felt like too much. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the dress, fidgeting in that way she did when she was nervous.

“Bit late, don’t ya think?” she asked, her voice light but brittle as she glanced up at him. He looked tired. The kind of tired that sunk deep into the bones, making everything heavy. He didn’t answer right away, just made his way over to the counter, resting his elbows on it as he leaned toward her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to read something there.

“You closing up soon?” His voice was low, rough, but there was something softer beneath it, hidden beneath the layers of his gruff exterior.

“Yeah, just waiting on one last customer,” she said, nodding to the back where an old man was browsing the shelves with deliberate slowness. He didn’t seem in a rush to leave, and neither did Butcher, it seemed.

He grunted in response, shifting his weight. “Didn’t think you’d be workin’ this late.”

She shrugged, eyes dropping to the counter, fingers running over the grain of the wood, tracing the tiny nicks and scratches that had accumulated over the years. “Needed the hours,” she muttered. Butcher knew why, even if she didn’t say it outright. The debt. Kessler. Everything she’d tangled herself in.

A silence fell between them, thick and heavy like the dusk settling outside. She could feel him watching her, that familiar gaze that made her skin itch, like he could see all the things she was trying to hide. It was always like this with Butcher—he didn’t have to say much to make her feel like she was under a microscope.

“You alright?” His question was simple, but there was weight to it, like it held more than just casual concern.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, too quickly, her voice wavering just enough to betray her. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the cracks.

Butcher tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if to study her closer. “Ya sure ‘bout that, Doll?”

She hated how easily that nickname slipped out of him, how it softened her resolve even when she didn’t want it to. She glanced up, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking away. He always had a way of getting under her skin, seeing through her defenses without even trying.

The old man at the back of the shop coughed, a reminder that they weren’t alone. Butcher straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest, looking like he was about to say something when the customer shuffled to the front, a stack of books in hand.

She stepped away from Butcher, her heart pounding in her chest, and rang up the sale with hands that were a little too shaky. The man didn’t seem to notice as he gathered his things and nodded politely, heading for the door. The bell chimed again as it swung shut behind him, leaving her alone with Butcher.

The air felt thicker now, the shop quieter. Butcher took a step toward her, his fingers drumming on the countertop. “Doll,” he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

She looked at him finally, really looked at him. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of a world that wasn’t entirely his. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His coat was rumpled, like he’d been wearing it for too long, and his shirt was half untucked, one side pulled loose where his belt cut into his waist. But there was something else too—something softer, buried deep in the lines of his face. Concern, maybe. Or guilt. She couldn’t tell anymore.

“I’m fine, Butcher,” she repeated, but this time her voice was quieter, more tired than defiant. She wiped her hands on her dress, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “You don’t need to keep checking in on me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah? And who’s gonna check in on ya if I don’t?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for too long. She didn’t answer, didn’t know how to. Her eyes drifted to the door, then back to him, and suddenly the space between them felt too small, too intimate.

“I can take care of myself,” she muttered, more to convince herself than him. She didn’t even believe it anymore.

Butcher’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice dropping low, rough around the edges. “I ain’t sayin’ you can’t handle yourself, Doll. I know you’re tough. But tough ain’t always enough.”

Her chest tightened, the words sinking deep. She could feel the weight of them pressing down on her, the way Butcher always seemed to pull her in, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She wanted to push him away, tell him to leave, but instead, she found herself leaning into it, letting the silence stretch between them.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to fix everything.”

Butcher’s eyes softened, just a fraction, and he let out a breath he’d been holding. “I ain’t tryin’ to fix ya, Doll. Just don’t want ya drownin’, is all.”

There it was again—that concern, that twisted, broken care that made her chest ache. He didn’t know how to show it, not the way people were supposed to, but she felt it anyway, like a pulse between them.

“I’m not drowning.” she whispered, though the words felt like a lie. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself anymore. “Leave it, Butcher.”

Butcher didn’t move, didn’t push, just stood there watching her with that quiet intensity that always made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something. Something dangerous. Something she couldn’t escape from.

The bell above the door chimed again as he turned to leave, but before stepping out into the night, he glanced back at her, eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Make sure ya lock up, Doll,” he muttered, his voice softer now, like a command but gentler. Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving her standing in the dim light of the shop, the weight of his presence still hanging in the air.

[slickchickchocolatier]

Okay I saw this vid about a girl giving the strap of her bra to her bf so he can wear it as a bracelet, and now I’m curious if heethan would be into that aswell🤭

“I Wanna Know What Love Is (I Want You to Show Me.)”

Warnings: hint of smut, hints/mentions of Somnophilia (consensual or dubcon), hints of breeding kinks (symbolized by flowers)....think that's it.

You chuckle as you read off the last message. Heeseung can be so bold with his words of affection, sometimes, it truly does make you wonder how he came to be obsessive. Were you really all that to him? its silly to ask, considering it had been over a year since you both met, fell in love, and united in this rather unique relationship.

You watch as he pulls up against the curb, and as always, he steps out and greets you with a hug, smile, and a kiss atop your head. He sits you in the passenger seat before getting back in, then drives off. you waited until you both arrived at his dorm room before bestowing your gift. "here..." you softly whispered as you dangle the item from your finger.

He studied the gift for a moment before reaching for it. What an interesting gift it was...he'll never guess what it was–

"it's your bra strap..." his deep voice punctures your thought as he correctly guessed the material that you had turned into a bracelet.

"H-how did you know?"

he loops the item with his index while lifting his face slightly enough to show an eye under the bill of his cap; a smirk accompanies the gleam from the heavy casted shadow. "It's my favorite one." he winked as he spoke out, chuckling while he placed the leather strap around his wrist. 

You were shocked to find how attentive he really was to your lingerie set, to the point where he could automatically tell where the material came from. Your leather and mesh bra had torn, and you wondered what to do with the pretty leather straps since they were too nice to merely toss out. You got the idea of turning them into matching bracelets, with small trinkets to represent the meaning of your union. Heeseung had the sun trinket, and you had the flower, that of which only thrives because of the sun. It was all so fitting, and they went well with the fine leather material that you couldn’t contain yourself, you just had to make them. But you were a bit embarrassed that he was able to deduce where you got the materials. 

“Well…do you like it?” you asked, watching as he lifts his hand, admiring how the sun trinket dangles under his wrist. “Love it.” he simply remarks. 

“My bra tore up and I wanted to make use of the straps.” you explained as you slipped your own bracelet on, showing him the matching flower trinket. 

“Huh…well I would have expected that.” he states, again so calmly and placid. You raised your brows in response as he shifted his sharp gaze over to you. 

“What do you mean?” he smirks once more upon hearing you inquire about his statement, to which he gleefully bites down on his bottom lip and explains. 

“Ah…that’s right, you were too sleepy to recall how it all started that night.” 

“....What night?”

“The  night I woke up and found you all too irresistible to leave alone…so I undid your bra with my teeth and tore it apart.” 

“When was this?? I don’t remember you–”

“You woke up as I was in mid-thrust and reached up for my neck and whispered ‘deeper’....remember?

You found yourself melting as you now recalled the night Heeseung spoke of. You woke up feeling an immense fullness in your gut, a throbbing rod pulsating and beating against your walls as you opened your eyes to pitch darkness, and hearing only his grunts and heavy breathing while he had himself fully inserted. The grooves and veins of his cock ribbed for your pleasure as he thrusted in and out; it was the most delightful way to wake up, despite it being 2 am in the morning on a school night. You wanted more, so you had reached up and delicately wrapped your arms around his thick neck, running your fingers through his shaggy hair as you begged for him to do more…it was during your ovulation period, so how could anyone blame you? 

“...Heeseung!” 

“Don’t even, y/n. You were begging for it.”

“But I really liked that bra! Besides, you took total advantage. I was ovulating.”

He lunges over and smacks his palm against the wall, caving you in as his chest faintly presses against your breasts. With a malicious grin, yet his face remaining ever so handsome, he tells you mercilessly, “still doesn’t change the fact that you said…’deeper’.”

His free hand rises, the tips of his fingers trail upwards and slowly lifts the hem of your shirt, revealing your mid torso. He continues to move up, until he reaches the lining of your bra, delicately cradling your left breast. He leans in and whispers into your ear…

“How about it, babe?...Want me to go in….deeper?”

You slightly nod, finding his mannerism and that deep, dark voice of his too irresistible. He was your man after all, how could you say no?

“Yeah? How about harder?”

“Mm….yes….”

“What about ‘faster’?” 

“Y-yes….”

“Does my pretty little flower feel like blooming?”

“Mm…mmhmm…” you nod once more with shaky breaths. 

“Well…” he drifts as he unclasps your bra from behind. Once you feel the release of pressure snap, with the band loosening instantaneously, he reaches down and snakes his cunning fingers up your skirt, rubbing your clit ever so gently.  “The sun is ready to shine. So come show me the little flower bud and I’ll make it bloom…maybe even make other little flowers out of it. Would you like that, pretty? Hmm?....You want me to plant baby roses and make things bloom forever?"

Before you could answer, he snaps a whisper against the helix of your ear. "Say yes."

"...Y...yes.....yes....."

He may not have a green thumb, but that didn't stop Heeseung...and his Ethan side from planting thousands, perhaps millions, of baby roses....and as he did so, you felt them all blooming inside as he went in deeper....harder...and faster.

[rabioa]

Collar-ful Engravings

Vox x Hellhound!Reader - Fluff - Gender Neutral

Vox gets a hell hound, you, as a business gift. He doesn't really care about you until he sees how much your presence bothers Alastor. Now he's all about you, spoiling you and flaunting you around. Now, he's even got a gift with your name on it... its not too tight now, is it?

TW: Unsexualized petplay(? Reader is a Hellhound so it comes with the territory?), any Hazbin Hotel warnings

Hello hello!!! This is my first attempt at publishing a fanfic. I know it's not perfect so if you have any feedback then please let me know!! Remember to stay hydrated and remember you are loved! <3

You cleared your throat; the sensation of something against such a vulnerable place felt odd. The collar sat proudly around your neck, the design wasn't anything over-the-top, which was how you preferred most things. It was black with a simple silver buckle but in neat cyan cursive engravings read “Vox”.

Vox stood next to you as you stared in the mirror, you hands gingerly testing the fine leather. 

"So what do you think? Pretty nice, right? I had Velvette pick the material. It's not too tight now, is it? If you don't like something about it then I can get it altered, or better yet, get you a new one. I think a neat collection would be nice, wouldn't it?" The T.V. head rambled behind you, his hands resting firmly on your shoulders. Occasionally, his hand would lift off to do some gesture, ever the animated talker. 

"No, it's..." You struggled for words. Oddly possessive? A bit kinky? Really fucking embarrassing to wear? "It's something. Nice quality it's just... a bit much, don't you think...?" You chose your words carefully, not hoping to incite his wrath. You were never a disobedient hellhound after all. 

He laughed off your concerns. "Of course not! You're now a face in the brand. You need to represent, y'know? People have to know who you belong to, that you're associated with the best of the best," he explained, turning you around by your shoulders. He didn't seem to understand how his words sounded. People have to know who you belong to. 

You tried to school your face into something a little more pleasant, so he at least knew you were receptive to his generosity. "Thank you, sir. I believe this luxury is wasted on me though. There are better ways to allocate your resources and money rather than on some random mutt,” you tried your best to explain your thoughts gently. You winced at his unamused expression. It felt like you were letting him down simply by letting the emotions slip.

“No, no, no. None of that” he chided, booping your nose with his index finger. Your snout wrinkled up as it always did when he booped you. “Are you judging my taste? My impeccable eye? Keep your head up high. You aren't just some mutt. No, you are among the big players, so show some respect for yourself. Anyways, it'll show off your brand-new accessory better if you keep your chin up,” he hummed, grabbing your chin to tilt your head higher. He always spoke in such a theatrical way that lifted your mood. Your thoughts may not be kind to yourself, but he was plenty proud of you to make you feel better. 

You instinctively straightened up, not wanting to let him down. He smiled, clearly pleased. “There we go. Now then,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the loft and into the elevator. During the long trip down (seriously, it always took a bit to get from the top floor where all the Vee's usually buzzed around in to the bottom) Vox's screen split into two.

On one side was his face, on the other were designs for another collar. The sight of him going split-screen always amused you greatly, reminding you of the silly reddit story videos trending in the living world. “I was thinking for the next collar we go all out. There's this trend of really decked out chokers with charms, charms and all the ribbons. We can easily apply it here, so look, what do you prefer? Black or silver chain? Ah, actually let's just get both variations,” he seemed to be more of talking to himself as he guided himself through a collar shopping spree. 

You were flustered at all the spoiled attention he was giving you. You felt like a cute doll with how he pampered you, meant to sit still and look pretty as he handled all the rest. It was funny, to think a few months ago you were simply another hell hound in your old master's army of hell hounds, doomed to do menial labor for the rest of your life. Now you were on T.V. screens, even a few posters. You were a mini celebrity, the latest gossip when people talked about Vox. 

“How about we leave it to Miss Velvette? It's more of her department,” you suggested meekly. You hoped Velvette would have some mercy and create less flashy collars. 

He snapped his fingers, creating finger guns pointed at you. His face maximized, no longer sharing two windows. “You’re right. She'll make sure it's perfect. We can even get some new outfits to match,” he agreed much to your relief. 

The elevator doors opened and it was like being seared by a million blinking suns. Vox's hand traveled to your waist, pulling you against his side as he flashed a charming grin. You blinked, trying to look pretty and charming to some degree as your eyes adjusted to the flashing cameras. He guided you out, the reporters parting like the Red Sea for the two of you. You were always impressed that they never tried to block him, but you supposed frying a few daring reporters and stepping over them when they tried him was an effective message. 

You shifted closer into his side, a feeble attempt at shielding yourself from the lenses. To the outside perspective it was a sultry move, as if bragging that only you could get close to him. The news articles for the next few days would rave about this, much to your future dismay. 

“Sir, where are we going?” You muttered to him, a shy smile on your face. 

“There's a new VoxTek megastore opening. We are doing the opening. You want to hold the scissors for the ribbon?” He teased you, his claws pressing into your side slightly to convey his joking intent. It wasn't a threatening gesture, but rather a comforting one. The pressure was like a gentle reminder that he was here, with you, holding you, and his grip was firm, ensuring no rascal could steal you away. 

His smile seemed to grow even larger as you both walked down the street. You glanced around, noting nothing of interest or joy around the two of you. He looked down at you, as if understanding your confusion.

“They're already posting about your latest accessory. I wonder, if they're going so wild over a collar, what will they say when the leash comes in?” 

Ah shit, he got you a leash too?

[chiefdirector]

Shooting | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Three Years Ago

Tim took a deep breath as he prepared himself. In reality he knew that he would be fine, he had participated in raids like this one dozens of times, but it didn't stop the nerves coming up. He shot a glance to the line of officers behind him, and then he looked back in front of him. This time, instead of facing the back of a leather jacket, he made eye contact with (Y/N).

You okay? She mouthed, as not to alert anyone in the vicinity of their location with the sound of conversation. 

Yes. Tim replied, nodding alongside his silent confirmation.

I love you.

I love you too.

Within less than a moment's notice, the senior officer on site gave the visual go ahead for the raid to start. Tim followed closely behind his wife as they, alongside Metro and a SWAT team, rushed forward to ambush the residents in the house.

From the streets, the house seemed like any other in its neighbourhood. The exterior walls were neat and tidy, the garden was something to be proud of, not a flaw in sight. The property seemed as if it had come straight from a Home-Owners Association’s dream. The inside was of a similar manner, it was modern, clean, and bright. It was pristine, except from the methamphetamine laboratory in the back half of the residence. 

The cartel that used the residence as a home base clearly had no clue of the raid happening until the moment they penetrated the doors of the property. Pretty quickly the quiet and serene neighbourhood was filled with the sounds of glass smashing and bullets being fired. Tim fluidly moved through the house, keeping his six covered as he tried to locate the boss’s wife who was supposedly here. 

The boss was out of town on business, leaving only his partner to run the business in his absence. It gave Sargent Grey and his cohort the perfect time to try to shut down the operation. 

“Lopez,” Tim whispered to the officer next to him. Once her eyes were on him, he gestured to the door at the end of the corridor. Lopez moved forward to position herself to open the door and counted down from three with one hand, the other still clutching her weapon. 

They burst through the door, guns held high as they entered the office. The office was the only room in the house that wasn't immaculate. Papers were strung across the desk, with nearly twice as much spread messily across the floor. The drawers in the cabinet behind the desk looked as if hastily opened with little regard to what was inside. The lamp in the far corner was smashed to pieces; it was mostly covered by a small woman standing in front of it.

She stood tall and proud. Her face was like stone, and her eyes were cold. Recognition instantly crossed Tim and Angela’s faces: the wife. She was not what they were expecting. Reports had described her as timid and mild, someone who would be easy to get to cooperate with their case.

“LAPD. Drop the gun!” Tim said, keeping his gun held high, holding his aim at the wife’s shoulder.

The woman kept her weapon held high. 

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Lopez said, taking a small step closer to the woman. “Just drop the gun and we can resolve this nicely.”

“And if I don't?” The woman scoffed. 

Lopez took another couple of steps,getting closer as she spoke. “Let's not go down the road. It’ll be easier if you cooperate ma’am.”

Quickly, the woman turned to face Lopez, her gun aimed at her face. Before she had time to pull her trigger, Tim shot a single round into her shoulder. The woman ricocheted backwards, the gun dropping from her grasp as she fell. Blood spilled from her shoulder running down her dress turning the material from white to crimson. She hit the ground heavily as her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness. Lopez moved quickly to remove the gun from reach before getting down to the woman’s side. She motioned for Tim to join her.

As Angela started to put pressure on the bullet wound, Tim reached for his radio. “I need an additional RA Unit for a woman, mid-thirties, with a gunshot wound. Unconscious but breathing.” He placed the radio back on his belt before kneeling down next to Angela. “You alright?”

“Yeah I’m good,” She stopped talking for a moment, listening to the sounds around them in the rest of the property. “It sounds like it’s quieting down. We better wait here though.”

Tim stood up. “You're right. Do you think there is anything to help stop the bleeding… First aid kit maybe?”

At his question, Tim heard a familiar chuckle coming from the door. Even though he recognised the voice, he still turned suddenly and took his gun out again, his mind and body still on the defensive. 

“This place was a meth lab and you think they cared enough about health and safety for a first aid kit?” (Y/N) walked into the office, looking around at the carnage that had taken place here. “This is going to be a headache to sort through in evidence later.”

“(Y/N), why are you here? Are you okay?” Tim moved towards his wife, eyes looking frantically up and down to check her for any injuries. She looked fine, except for a little graze on her forehead but that wasn’t anything that Tim couldn't take care of later. He stopped himself though, clocking how frantic his words sounded. Remedying that, he took a deep breath and continued. “Has everyone else been taken-”

“Hey, hey hey.” Lopez interrupted, bringing the Bradfords’ attention to her. “She’s awake again.”

Tim nodded, moving towards the door, somewhat satisfied to know that (Y/N) was okay. “That’s good, you two wait here, I’m going to see if the RA Unit is here yet.”

(Y/N) hummed in agreement as her husband left. She spared a glance his way before drawing her attention to Angela and the bleeding lady. “Ma’am? Ma’am.” She said, squatting down to her side. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Regina.” The woman spat.

“Right Regina, you’re under arrest. You will be taken to the hospital before being processed.” Angela said, still maintaining pressure on Regina’s shoulder even though she squirmed underneath her.

Regina gritted her teeth, (Y/N) couldn't tell if it was in pain or anger. The bleeding woman cried out as she turned her head to fully focus on (Y/N). “He will pay for this. You all will. He doesn't know what he has done. He shot me and my husband will make him pay.”

Part Four | Part Six

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424

Tags are open :)

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“I still haven’t met Superman.” “He is not impressive.” “I don’t know, he can fly. Seems pretty impressive to me.” “Yes, but if we were on a red sun planet, he would not be able to fight even against Drake.” The endless trees had turned into gray and boring buildings, each taller than the other, people walking in and out of them, others leisurely getting to their destination on the sidewalk. Damian was still listing the reasons as to why Superman wasn’t impressive, at one point including the topic of physiology. “—a child could do it.” “Yeah.” You agreed, to what? You’re not sure. “But he can fly.” The exasperated groan that left him made you and Cass snicker, secretly high fiving each other.

Chapter 8 < > Chapter 10

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog, @katrina0-0

You couldn’t even see your shoes, nor the mist that was coming out your mouth with every shaky breath. The room was cold, gelid, the feeling on your feet was the first thing you stopped sensing.

You couldn’t move, your arms secured with leather restrains to your sides, your legs the same. The gurney you were tied to was vertical, the metal surface chilling your bones, the wheels squeaking with every movement you made, however you couldn’t get far, as something you couldn’t see had it bolted to the ground.

You were once again in Scarecrow’s basement.

Your breathing became more erratic by the second at this realization. The darkest shadows had a life on its own, dim, white orbs like eyes fixed on you, crawling from side to side. Your screams were empty, devoid of any sound.

Tiny pinpricks were crawling all around your arms and legs, going up, and down, left, and right. Something smooth was slithering around your legs, slightly squeezing.

You were alone.

No one knew where you were.

Your mouth hurt, your chest hurt, your throat hurt, but you kept on screaming, barely a sound leaving you.

This was it. There was no escape. No one was coming. No one—

“Jane!”

You jolted awake, clothes sticking with cold sweat, breathless and a feeling of suffocation forcing you to breath in quick gasps, strong hands were on your shoulders, pushing them away with a cry.

“Don’t hurt me!” You cried, pressing yourself against the headboard as much as you could.

“It’s me.” The deep voice said, hands raised and opened. “You’re safe. You’re in your room.”

You forced yourself to look at the voice, dark, green eyes shining in the moonlight, worry etched on his face.

“Jason?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He said, sitting down slowly at the end of the bed. “You were having a nightmare. You’re in Wayne manor.”

“Jason.” His name was the only thing you could say, your grip on the blanket tightening, tears pricking at your eyes once more. “Jason. He was— I was— The lab, I—”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to explain. Would you…” He wet his lips, looking at the wall behind you. “Would you like me to hug you?”

You nodded, barely registering his words, your shallow breath regulating as soon as his arms closed in around you, the thick material of his suit cool against your palms, a finger idly tracing the bat emblem on his chest, eyes unfocused, mind racing.

He smelled like sweat, gunpowder and morning dew.

He never complained, never moved besides the soft rising of his breathing, your room bit by bit being illuminated by the early sun, but still veiled in darkness.

“Thank you.” Your voice was rough. His breathing stood to a halt for a second, swiftly going back to normal, his hum reverberating all over your body.

“It’s alright. I’m glad I was here to help you.” I’m glad you were here, too, was left unsaid, your mouth left hanging open. “Come, I know something that’ll help you.”

Palm up, he waited until you grabbed his hand, amused at how his engulfed yours. It was big, rough and calloused like everyone else in this family, the remnants of a scar rubbing against your palm.

They weren’t the hands of a model, but they were hands that fit with yours like two perfect pieces of a puzzle, made to hold each other.

The digital clock on the kitchen read half past five in the morning, the sun rising over the city’s skyscrapers. Jason led you to the kitchen table, pulling out the chair for you. Normally you would’ve said some lame joke to ruin the mood, but you were still too shaken by the nightmare to even think of something.

He walked towards the pantry, pulling out ingredients for whatever he wanted to prepare, walking from one side to the other and murmuring about the placement of everything.

“Damian said you’d left the manor the day after… That day.” He stopped for a second, drops of vanilla falling from the spoon to the counter at his sudden halt.

“Needed to get somethin’” You hummed, enthralled by his movements. “Can’t say no to Alfie when he asks me to stay, so I come by while he’s sleeping… Then I heard you crying. Had you ever had nightmares about it?”

You shook your head; however, he had his back towards you. “No. Why did…? Was I supposed to?”

“I’m surprised it took you so long.” He placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of you, the smiling face of whipped cream melting already. “It’s the aftereffects of the Fear Toxin, it usually lingers for a day or two.”

“It’s been a week.”

“Yeah, but you also had a hell of a week. Maybe your mind ‘postponed it’ until you dealt with everything else. You know, the whole different universe and all that.” You hummed, taking another sip from your drink and analyzing him. His posture was relaxed, his eyes closing while taking a drink of his own, relishing the flavor. He didn’t look as if he was still angry about what happened a week ago, if anything he was completely unbothered by it. However, before you could ruin the moment and question him about it, he spoke once again. “Has Timmbers had any luck with that?”

“’m not sure. I don’t go to the cave often.”

“I would ask him, but, you know, he doesn’t like me much.” His apathetic tone showed he didn’t know why Tim would be wary of him, or did he simply not care? The other emotion he had was a frown on his face after trying to take another sip of his cup only to find it empty.

“Gee. I wonder why that is.” Cuttingly, you stood up to put both cups on the sink, turning around and leaning on the counter with both hands holding it.

“What do you mean?”

“Jason. You tried to kill him.”

“Well… Yeah. But I apologized.”

“You—” Flabbergasted, your mouth opened and closed, and you couldn’t stop looking at him, but this time it wasn’t because you were mesmerized by his looks —which, alright, you still were—, but also because you couldn’t believe how dense he had to be to believe a simple apology was going to fix it. “Jason, I—You… You’re unbelievable. In what word a simple ‘Sorry for almost killing you’ is enough?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” He stood up, the chair dragging behind him, green eyes focused on you, gradually getting closer until you had to crane your neck a bit to hold his stare.

“I don’t know, maybe show that you care about him? That you actually mean your apology? It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out. You know, you’re always telling Dick off for how awful he handled my situation, but you’re no better. You’re just like him, and like Bruce, and—”

“I’m not!” The sudden rising of his voice shut you up with a click of your teeth. “I’m not like him.” Even though his eyes were entirely on you, it was as if he wasn’t seeing you, but some ghost of his past, his regrets, and his failures. The next time he spoke, his voice was soft and lacking the heat they carried earlier. “I’m not…”

The roles had reversed, your trembling hand moved upward his arm, fingers ghosting over the skin for comfort, to ground him and bring him back from wherever he had gone, and yet as soon as you touched him, Jason pulled back as if touched by fire.

“Jason, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

He shook his head.

“Don’t. It’s… Fine. Just drop it.”

You stood there; arm half raised from when you wanted to hold him, eyes glistening once again. Seconds ticked by and his breathing had slowed down, the glowing of his eyes dimming.

When he looked up, his eyes immediately went to some part below your eyes, your chin, maybe?

“You…” He said, hand painfully close but not enough to touch your face, however he pulled back, walking out the kitchen. “You have cream on your face.”

———

“School.”

“School?”

Cass woke you up at a normal hour in the morning, her finger prodding your cheek, the cutest smile you’d ever seen on her face. You had your arm covering half your face from the sun, voice rough with sleep.

“Yes, school.”

“You go to school?”

“No.” At your raised brow, she clarified. “Damian does. We’ll buy him new stuff for his new year. For you, too.”

“I don’ go to school a‘more.” Sleep wanted to overtake you once more, turning in place to cuddle with your pillows once more.

“No, silly. Clothes for you.”

That caught your attention. You knew Cass didn’t mind sharing her stuff, but you were desperate to have something that was completely yours. Not to mention you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy clothes without a spending limit, something you knew both Alfred and Bruce loved to do. You hadn't met Bruce yet, obviously, but simply by the gigantic gym they'd had installed in one of the old ballrooms was enough to know he showed his love through spending money on his loved ones.

You’d gone back to sleep after your… Fight? Altercation? Whatever it was with Jason. The hot chocolate lulling you to a state of calm and sleepiness. You couldn’t stop fucking up everything with him, did you?

“Good morning, girls. Miss Jane, I’m sure Miss Cass has already explained to you our errands for today.”

You sat down next to a grumpy-as-usual Damian, however something bigger must be bothering him if in lieu of picking small fights with you and insult your intelligence once more, he was forcefully stabbing his pancakes. You’ll take it as a win.

“Yeah, I’m gonna get new clothes?”

“Indeed. And please, do not feel necessary to hold back on buying what you need and what you like, I can assure you, we can pay for it.”

“I’m counting on it.” A devilish yet harmless smile appeared on your face, covering your pancakes with syrup.

“Bruce will love you.” Tim spoke, sitting down on the table with what appeared to be either his third or fourth cup of coffee by how aware he is. “He’ll finally have someone to spend all his money on.”

“By all means, let him. I won’t complain.”

“Why are you angry, little brother?” Cass changed the focus from you to Damian, sure that if he was as powerful as Superman, he would’ve cut his plate in two by the amount of force he was putting on splitting up his pancakes.

“I am the grandson of the Demon’s Head, I am the son of the Batman, yet I am being forced once again to attend school even though the contents they teach I had learned it years before. My classmates are nowhere near my level, yet I am treated as if I am one of them.”

“Aw, come on, Damian.” You hugged him sideways, his ire now wholly directed at you. “School’s fun, where else would you make friends?”

“Jon Kent is my acquaintance.”

“Not acquaintance, Damian, friend. And it’s alright to have only one, but he’s all the way over to Metropolis, you could use having some friends here.”

The summer weather in Gotham was as awful as you expected it to be, with rain coming at short, uneven intervals, the humid heat it brings pressing against your skin, stifling and clammy.

“We shall make a detour to stop for Miss Stephanie.”

Alfred informed you once the four of you were buckled up inside the car, a black SUV big enough to fit even ten people. The seat you’d chosen had a forgotten Superman sweatshirt on it, thumbing the faded logo.

“I still haven’t met Superman.”

“He is not impressive.”

“I don’t know, he can fly. Seems pretty impressive to me.”

“Yes, but if we were on a red sun planet, he would not be able to fight even against Drake.” The endless trees had turned into gray and boring buildings, each taller than the other, people walking in and out of them, others leisurely getting to their destination on the sidewalk. Damian was still listing the reasons as to why Superman wasn’t impressive, at one point including the topic of physiology. “—a child could do it.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, to what? You’re not sure. “But he can fly.”

The exasperated groan that left him made you and Cass snicker, secretly high fiving each other.

The view was something different altogether during the day, and without the added dread of thinking you were unsafe and in danger.

Stephanie lived in a regular, common, red brick building, waiting for the Waynes on the steps leading to the apartments. Her bright, blue eyes landed on you, gaze never leaving you even as she sat down behind you and Cass, next to Damian. “Oh, you’re Jane? Cass told me about you.” She waved her phone to wordlessly explain their means of communication. “How did you end up here, again?”

“From a portal to another dimension.”

“Huh.” She let go of your seat’s backrest, leaning on her own. “Yeah, makes sense.”

“You took that better than expected.”

“Weirder things have happened here. I’m surprised it took so long for something like this to occur.”

The mall was crowded with people doing their summer shopping, and teens enjoying their vacations. The building had nothing extraordinary that you wouldn’t find in any other regular mall; regular electronics, clothes, and jewelry stores, not even the superheroes shop looked out of place, something you could easily find back home.

“I’m glad they’re finally starting to have Black Bat merchandise.” Steph mentioned once you stepped foot on the store, Alfred and Damian leaving to buy the youngest Wayne his materials, a shiny, black credit card left on Cass’ hands. “She deserves way more recognition.” The three of you shared a sweet, knowing smile.

Besides having a wide variety of the ‘Batfamily’ merchandise, they also had a section for the other superheroes. Steph had picked up Green Arrow socks, Cass a cute Batman plushie-keychain, and while you were terribly tempted to buy a Red Hood sweatshirt, you chose not to, as it would be painfully obvious he’s your favorite, so you grabbed a Black Bat shirt —earning a warm hug from Cass—, and socks with the symbols of all the vigilantes in Gotham, putting as much distance as you could from the Rogues section, avoiding specifically the Scarecrow merchandise.

Stephanie didn’t have much shopping to do, as she still had left some brand new notebooks from her past school year, simply needing some pens and a new backpack. “Mine got teared up at the last Riddler attack.” She explained. “We were on a school trip to a museum he chose to attack at that moment.”

“Are they… Common? The attacks?” You had to ask, wondering why people would continue being here if buildings were destroyed on a daily basis.

“No. Five… Maybe ten times a year, at most.” Cass said, choosing a shirt she thought you’d like. “The big ones. Most of the time we… Focus on small groups.”

She whispered the last part, assuming she meant stuff like gun trading, kidnapping and muggings. Still… Ten times a year? That was almost once a month of re-building whatever was destroyed, blown up, or burned on the fights.

The girls had helped you buy a whole new wardrobe, with close to forty new long and short sleeved shirts, twenty pairs of jeans and pants, as well as three pairs of shoes, and any new undergarments you needed, the face of the worker brightening with every piece you picked up, most likely working on a commissions basis. Every girls dream.

With the three of you with both your hands full of bags, Steph led you to the food court to wait for Alfred and Damian, surprised it was taking them longer to buy.

“So, Jane. How you’re liking the city so far?” Steph asked between bites of her ice cream.

“She escaped once.” Cass deadpanned, Steph bursting out laughing. “Was kidnapped by Scarecrow.”

“Shit, really? That must’ve been traumatizing for someone… Like you.” For someone that doesn’t have supervillains walking on the streets.

“Being kidnapped is traumatizing for anyone.”

“Yeah, you know what I meant.”

You took another sip of your milkshake.

“It’s… Weird, I never expected to live in the stories I’d read so many times.” The people around the court were all focused on their own conversations, the sound loud enough to muffle yours. “Never thought they’ll be real somewhere.”

“And why did you escape? Wanted the real Gothamite experience?”

“I didn’t know what was happening!” You exclaimed, a pained look on your face. “I thought everyone was brainwashed into thinking they were living in Gotham and I was gonna be brainwashed too. Neither Tim nor Dick explained anything to me.”

“Sounds like ‘em.”

“Here you are.” A not so childish voice exclaimed next to you. “Pennyworth says it is time to go back home if you are finished with your errands.”

The three of you were almost done with your treats and could easily finish them on the way back to the parking lot.

That is, if a wall of the mall hadn’t collapsed.

And several men dressed in half white and half black suit came through the hole.

[seoul-bros]

Muse - an exploration of love

It now seems clear that Face and Muse were recorded in parallel, overlapping and intertwining. It's a situation which creates a thread of connection between the two albums.

It's largely the same production team as FACE with Jimin again participating in writing most of the tracks on the album. He has also turned his hand to producing on Rebirth and Interlude: Showtime.

Track 1: Rebirth

The first track seems connected to and leading on naturally from Set Me Free Part 2. Thinking back to the end of the MV where Jimin's clothes change from black to white, from leather to softer materials and his gaze is at last peaceful and penetrating, it all seeks to communicate release, reemergence and renewal.

Rebirth therefore is the moment beyond, when Jimin determines to embrace life and love again. It could be a declaration of intent to start telling the story of Muse.

Track 2: Interlude: Showtime

Which would make Showtime, the first step to embracing that new found freedom. It's an Interlude sure, but I keep getting a very theatrical image in my head, very bold, very Cabaret (if you're in London, I recommend you see the show).

Track 3: Smeraldo Garden Marching Band (feat. Loco)

We will get to hear Smeraldo Garden Marching Band in less than a week (aggggghhhhhhhh i'm not ready ......but at the same time so so ready). The track description says it "draws inspiration from a marching band, blending hip-hop elements with the big band sound characterized by a large-scale orchestra, creating an upbeat, lively rhythm and dynamic atmosphere." This gives me a stepping up, stepping out kind of feel.

Given the focus on The Beatles and St Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band during Face era and the involvement of Nick Lee in Set Me Free Part 2, I'm expecting more big brass and a full sound which Jimin seems to be drawn to - brass and choirs all the way baby.

I'd also expect to see some choreography here something like On but that might be asking too much.

South Korean rapper Loco is the featured artist. Looking through his back catalogue one of his most successful songs featured RM's long time collaborator Colde. It'll be interesting to see how their voices and styles combine here.

Track 4: Slow Dance (feat. Sofia Carson)

With Slow Dance, the seduction really begins. Arcades are Matt Thomson and Max Lynedoch Graham, a British electronic music production duo who we saw in the studio with Jimin in 2022 along with Gabriel Brandes and Alex Karlsson. Now we know what they were doing there.

Also involved in this one is Like Crazy co-writer BLVSH. Oh yes this bodes very well for this track.

So we're thinking EDM, maybe with a Latin feel. Sofia Carson has a unique voice which I think will pair well with Jimin and she has also been known to sing in Spanish and we know after SoWooZoo that Jimin is not adverse to that.

Track 5: Be Mine

Be Mine is still a bit of a mystery to me, given its placement on the album it would suggest that Jimin has found the objective of his affections and wants to solidify the attraction into something more. Will it be a ballad? The production is giving no clues and I haven't seen any credits yet. However, some eagle eyes on TwiX spotted a Be Mine reference from ID: Chaos.

Track 6: Who

This is the main track and the production team includes Jon Beillon who worked on last year's summer smash Seven so we can expect some focus on elements for commercial success.

There are more echos of ID:Chaos with he colour scheme for Who matching that from the Freedom shoot. It would be nice to think that Who reflects that particular sentiment i.e. this is who I am and knowing this has set me free to live and love as I choose.

Track 7: Closer Than This

We round out with Closer Than This which given its position on the album and the way it was previously released solidifies the message, this is me until we meet again. Our love is strong enough to weather the storm of this enforced separation. It is a message for the fans but also for the BTS members.

Post Date: 21/06/2024

[spockandawe]

Here's a big project I've been sitting on! All That You Love Will Be Carried Away, by our very own @ceruleancynic! And a box, naturally, building boxes for books continues to bring me immense joy.

What we have here is not just the main fic, or the main series, but also All That You Love (The High Hope Remix) alt pov short fic by byzantienne, and, a detail that I was really excited to include: the initial comment exchange between these two fantastic authors of m the first fic in the series. Did I title that second little book 'all that you meet cute will be carried away' as a silly placeholder? Did I then get super attached and refuse to change it? Uh-

Hell yeah, I refuse to be dignified about any of my favorite hobbies!

But the real secret delight here was that I've been looking for the right opportunity to get weird with boxes. Peller boxes, hinged slipcases, yes, fine, but those are like the box version of my sixfold book adventure. I'm still shooting for some parallel to my fourteenfold book, I'm looking for a way to go completely off the rails. I have some ideas, but it's hard, finding a good large chonk and a small number of equally sized texts, which made a unified and complete set, AND which excited me to work with. That might sound unnecessarily picky, but I swear, there was a good reason for it!

Oh baby. Oh baby.

This worked out so perfectly. I wanted a large book at the center of things. And I wanted two small books oriented in a different direction, placed end to end, at its edge. And I got it! I didn't want to commit too early, and it would have been heartbreaking to fail, but once the big book was together, and the preliminary typesets for the two little books were almost identical? I just HAD to try.

Tumblr is already silencing me and refusing to let me attach as many images as I want, so for this post, let's talk about the main book a little! Cute little quarto bricks are my new FAVORITE favorite thing, as I'm sure you can guess from my archives, and this one was a dream to put together.

It had to be a three-quarter leather binding, naturally. And I was sitting on some gorgeous iridescent maroon paper for endpapers (no photos in this set, it refuses to photograph well, as is the way of pretty iridescent things). I spent some time agonizing over my other material, and whether to use two different marbled patterns, but I went with it in the end. The vibes were distinct enough but the palettes overlapped enough that I really enjoyed the effect. And with the northcott art of marbling fabrics (my beloved) I was able to use lines of symmetry to get some nice fussy cuts for the big book and the little ones. All of the books have leather endbands, matching the spine. And the big book has the big thick faux raised bands I tried out with my last svsss! I don't have enough pictures to show off all the book interiors, but I used this cover plate for the series and main fics within it.

And then, like I showed you above, I put it all together. Marbled paper and silk moire for covering the box, a lot of very tense wrangling of glued-up paper in very small spaces, and, at one point, carefully lowering glue-covered pieces of moire bookcloth down these little pits (walls already covered) using that tab in the front like the world's awkwardest elevator shaft. But the EFFECT!

I'm very, very pleased with myself, and delighted to have delivered this book to its new home. I've been absolutely VIBRATING with a desire to share, so! I can't be contained by tumblr's image limit. Hold on for two seconds (approx.) and I'm going to reblog this post with some wip pictures and more detail about how I worked this thing out and assembled this box and modified my initial design on the fly

[hardstraykidshours]

the glove

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut, 18+ (minors dni)

summary: when you see hyunjin's outfit on stage, you just can't seem to help yourself.

length: 1.6k

warnings: profanity, sexual/suggestive content, kinda dom!hyunjin, kinda sub!reader, big time hand kink, fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, cum eating, pet names, praise, degradation if you squint, afab reader, nsfw 18+ (minors dni)

a/n: this has been in the drafts for literally 800 years, so i finally edited it so it can see the light of day

that glove.

that damn glove.

you wish you had never seen it. your life would be so much simpler if hyunjin hadn't worn that glove. he had worn it while performing a few days ago. the black leather only covered his thumb and index finger, leaving his other three fingers exposed.

you already have a thing for hyunjin's hands, but the combination of the dark leather contrasted against his tan skin has your mind reeling. you imagine what the sensation would be like to have the cold material of the leather and the warm feeling of his fingers as he runs his fingers across your body or into your mouth or inside your cunt. you feel yourself start to grow warm just thinking about it as that all too familiar ache grows between your legs. desperation in its purest form.

you decide you need to do something about this. hyunjin is at dance practice right now, and you know he has access to where the stylists keep his outfits, so you decide to just text him about it. a faint blush grows on your cheeks as you begin typing on your phone. hyunjin knows you like his hands a lot, but this particular request is still a little embarrassing, it is just a glove after all.

y/n: hey, baby ❤️ you know that glove you wore the other day for that performance at the awards show?

hyunjin: hello, love ❤️ yes, what about it?

y/n: any chance you could take it home tonight?

hyunjin: shouldn't be a problem. why do you want it, love?

y/n: i was thinking maybe you could wear it tonight. I've been thinking about what it feels like since you wore it…

hyunjin: ooooh ok, i see...i'll make sure to grab it before i leave. anything to make my love happy

y/n: thanks, baby! i love you, see you tonight

hyunjin: i love you too! wear something pretty tonight, something that looks good with leather 😉

your cheeks grow even hotter as you set your phone down, mind racing even faster now that your fantasy is becoming a reality.

time seems to pass at a painstakingly slow pace as you wait for hyunjin to come home. he already told you that he would probably be home later than normal since they're practicing for a comeback, but it feels like even longer now that you're just sitting here in anticipation. you've been laying in your bed on your phone just trying to pass the time. you listened to what hyunjin said, and you put on your favorite set of red lace lingerie. you thought the red would look nice with his black glove.

your heart skips a beat when you hear him unlock the door to your apartment.

"hi, baby," you call out, setting your phone on the nightstand as you adjust yourself in bed so you're laying on your back, arms casually draped across the pillow above your head, exposing your whole body to him.

he doesn't respond, which makes your heart beat faster as your hear his footsteps approaching through the silence. he enters the room and stops in the door way. leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, he just looks you up and down.

"hey, beautiful," he says with a sly grin. "you did wear something pretty for me, didn't you?"

you sheepishly smile at him, rubbing your legs together to relieve the tension growing in your core as he stares at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"well since you're wearing something for me, i wanted to wear something really nice for you," you reply.

he crosses the room to you, keeping his hands in his pockets. he stops when he's standing at the edge of the bed next to where you're laying as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. you hum against his lips as you wrap your hands behind his neck to pull him closer to you.

your lips continue to dance together as he crawls into bed until he's hovering over you. your eyes roll back as he detaches his lips from yours to begin nibbling and sucking on your neck. he takes one of the hands that was holding himself above you and begins to trace it along your figure.

that's when you feel it.

so that's why he was keeping his hands in his pockets. he had the glove on the whole time.

your breath hitches and goosebumps form across your skin as you feel the stark contrast of the cold leather and his warm fingertips brush delicately across your skin. you feel yourself growing wetter by the second when you feel him smile against your neck. he's loving the affect this has on you.

he sits up his knees so he can look at all of you, staring down at you with hooded eyes. your lust blown gaze meets his as he continues to rub your body. you wiggle and writhe under his touch, bucking your hips occasionally to rub yourself against his leg as best as you, desperate for friction.

"look at my pretty girl, all desperate for me" he coos. "you really do like this glove, don't you?"

you nod your head rapidly in response.

he gently pulls the lace covering one your breasts to expose your nipple. he brushes his leather clad thumb across it, make your back arch as you mewl at the sensation.

"oh you really like that," hyunjin states matter of factly. he continues his work on your nipple, occasionally rolling it between his gloved thumb and index finger.

after a while, he continues to rub his hands across every part of your body, practically worshipping you.

"so beautiful," he mumbles, almost as if he's just talking to himself as his hands and eyes dance across your form.

you're beginning to soak through your panties, you need his fingers inside you now. "hyunjin…"

"yes, pretty?" he asks as he lowers himself towards you to nibble on your earlobe.

"inside please," you beg between whimpers.

he places a soft kiss on your temple as he shimmies your panties down your legs. he runs his index and middle finger through your dripping folds, coating himself with your juices. he groans when he feels how wet you are.

"you really like this glove, don't you, pretty?" he teases.

"mhm," is all you manage to mumble out between moans as he continues to run his fingers over your pussy. the mixture of the smooth leather and his calloused finger is almost unbearably erotic. you feel yourself clench around nothing as he teases your entrance slightly while he begins to rub soft circles on your clit with his thumb, the leather making his thumb slide across your sensitive bud with ease.

he finally pushes his fingers inside you while he continues to thumb your clit. your head rolls back and your back arches when you finally feel the sensation you've been dreaming about for days. the slick, cold leather on his index fingers feels like heaven against your walls when paired alongside the warmth of his middle finger.

pumping his fingers in and out of your aching pussy, he curls them slightly to rub that sweet spot inside you, the leather and calloused fingertip only adding to the sensation as he reverently rubs at your clit. he peppers kisses all along your collarbone and shoulder as you begin to come undone beneath him. your breathing grows erratic as the knot in your core begins to tighten, your high approaching even faster than you thought.

hyunjin can tell your getting close so he raises his head to look at you while he continues his work on your cunt, your walls clenching around his hand in pleasure.

"feels so good when you squeeze me like that. can you cum on my fingers, pretty? show me how much you love this glove on me," he prompts you.

this is all it takes for the knot inside you to break. your legs shake as your cunt pulses around his fingers, coating him with your cum while you moan his name like a mantra. he continues to rub in and out of you and slowly circle your clit while you catch your breath and come down from your high.

"good girl," he calmly whispers at you while pressing his lips gently against your cheek.

he finally pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up for both of you to look at. you feel aftershocks of arousal shoot through as he stares at his fingers, awestruck with the way your wetness makes the leather on the glove shine. he lowers his fingers to your lips.

"suck," he gentle commands. you wrap your lips around his fingers, tongue dancing around them while your mind goes numb from the mixture of tasting yourself and feeling the leather and his skin inside your mouth. your eyes flutter closed but not before you catch the way his achingly hard dick twitches in his pants at the sight of his fingers in your mouth.

he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a slight pop before he lays on the bed next to you, placing gentle kisses all over your face.

"thanks for bringing the glove home," you joke with a small giggle.

"anything for you, love," he says as he presses a kiss to your lips. "if there's anything else you want me to steal from work, let me know."

taglist: @sensitiveandhungry @writerracha

[charmandabear]

17 Shadowheart x Karlach

From @astarionfreak 's smut ask game ~ other entries

17. "I'm not wearing any underwear."

Perhaps a preview of what's to come for the Office Hours side chapter? 👀👀👀 (Notably, this isn't actually the Office Hours universe, despite being a modern au lol)

Shadowheart's dress is based on this art by @metal-junk, and Karlach's is from my own sick twisted imagination. If anyone wants to make art of her outfit, though, I won't complain 😍

Karlach checks her reflection in the mirror. Not too bad, honestly. The sleek high waisted trousers highlight the musculature of her abs, and the open cropped blazer shows off her glowing heart. She's come to appreciate this thing, once a death sentence, but ever since Dammon found the right parts to allow her to exist in the material plane, it's become a symbol of her survival. Plus, it makes her look cool as fuck.

She has some concerns about the jacket flapping open and flashing her boobs to everyone, but Shadowheart insists that the dress tape will keep it firmly in place, even through the natural heat of Karlach's skin.

"Love, are you almost ready to go?" Shadowheart calls from the bathroom. Karlach gives her hair one last adjustment before calling back, "Yup, ready when you are."

Shadowheart emerges from the bathroom and Karlach's heart nearly stops. Her long silver hair is out of its usual braid and flows down her back like a waterfall. Her dress is a stunning black silk that hangs over her curves perfectly. The bodice has straps that frame her breasts and meet up at a collar around her pretty porcelain neck. Delicate silver chains drape across her front and sides, and the ones around her hips gather at two waist-high slits, showing off her thick thighs. Karlach's mouth starts to water, and she can feel the arousal dampening the gusset of her underwear.

"Holy shit." Karlach can't find it in her to be any more eloquent than that. Shadowheart laughs, a light sound like bells, and grabs her clutch and her wrap from the dining room table.

"You look amazing too, sweetheart." She crosses to Karlach and stands on her toes to give her a kiss. Karlach, unsatisfied with a dry little peck, grabs hold of Shadowheart and immediately deepens the kiss, her tongue seeking entry between her lover's lips. Karlach slips her hand underneath that tantilizing slit and up around to her ass, delightfully surprised to find it completely bare. She breaks the kiss, panting, and stares at Shadowheart's cheeky grin.

"Oh, didn't I mention? I'm not wearing any underwear," she says in a husky voice, and Karlach's pussy clenches in a pavlovian response.

"Wha- I- and you tell me this now? Right before we need to leave?" Karlach splutters as Shadowheart giggles devilishly in response. "You expect me to sit through the entire coronation knowing that there's only a thin layer of silk between me and the promise land?"

"Think of it as your treat for doing something nice if murderously boring for a friend," she grins. Then she grabs Karlach's hand and drags her toward the door of their shared apartment. "Now come on, Lae'zel just texted me, they're all downstairs in the limo waiting for us."

***

Everyone, of course, looks absolutely stunning. Astarion and Tav look like gods damned super models in matching brocades, whereas Gale is wearing an understated but elegant deep violet suit. Lae'zel looks extremely uncomfortable in her silver blazer and leather body suit, the straps of her bra poking out beneath the lapel.

But Karlach only has eyes for Shadowheart. She chats amicably with everyone, and every time she laughs the silvery chain catches the light, bringing Karlach's attention directly back to her stunning cleavage. Karlach hides behind her champagne glass, worried that if she opens her mouth to say something, it'll be to tell the driver to pull over so she can immediately eat Shadowheart out on the side of the road.

But she manages to maintain her composure, even all the way through Wyll's coronation, despite the growing ache between her thighs every time Shadowheart uncrossed and recrossed her legs. When they finally make it to dinner, and after Wyll has made his appearance by their table to receive his obligatory congratulations, only then does Karlach dare to slip a hand onto Shadowheart's thigh beneath the table. She hears the other woman's breath catch in her throat, and the look Shadowheart flashes her is smoldering.

"Pardon, everyone, I need to use the restroom. Shadowheart, will you accompany me?" Karlach finally says in a stiff voice. Lae'zel makes a disapproving grunt.

"I do not understand your custom of women using the bathroom in flocks. Must I attend as well?" she glowers, and Astarion lets out one of his high-pitched giggles.

"Lae'zel, I don't believe they require your assistance for this one," he says, flashing a salacious smile at Tav who flushes a violent purple. Karlach doesn't even register Lae'zel's response because she and Shadowheart are already out of earshot of the group, making a beeline for the closest bathroom.

They barely manage to close the door to the single stall bathroom before Shadowheart has Karlach pressed up against the door, ravaging her face with kisses. She slips her hand beneath the hem of the blazer and runs it across the planes of bumps and scars along Karlach's ribcage.

Between breathless kisses, Shadowheart laughs, "They all know exactly what we're doing in here." Karlach runs her fingers through Shadowheart's silvery locks and gives them a firm tug right at the scalp, causing Shadowheart to quietly moan with pleasure.

"Frankly, I don't give a fuck. They all see what you look like, I don't think any of them will blame me," Karlach murmurs against Shadowheart's lips, punctuating her statement with a nip to her lower lip.

"Well, they're not blind, they can see you too," Shadowheart pants, moving her lips down Karlach's neck and to her clavicle. "I could not stop staring at your tits, love, they look amazing." She wrestles with the lapel of the blazer momentarily, before finally ripping the tape off and eliciting a strangled groan of both pain and pleasure from Karlach. Shadowheart immediately soothes the tender skin with her tongue. She cups one breast in her hand while she takes the other into her mouth, swirling her tongue around Karlach's nipple. Karlach drops her head back against the door, trying to keep her whimpering moans under control.

Shadowheart slides her hand down Karlach's abs and quickly unbuckles her belt, unzipping her pants just enough to slip her hand beneath Karlach's lace panties. She lets two fingers slide between her folds, and she chuckles when they immediately get covered in slick.

"Oh my, someone's been thinking about this," she coos, giving Karlach's nipple one last flick with her tongue before snaking up to her neck, nuzzling in the heat radiating off of her skin.

"Are you fucking with me? I'm pretty sure that coronation lasted six hours and I spent the entire time thinking about my head between your legs- ah-" Karlach grunts as Shadowheart slips her fingers into her cunt, curling them upwards slightly. Her knees buckle as she presses herself harder against the door, her hips bucking into her lover's hand. Shadowheart straddles Karlach's thigh, grinding against her while slowly pumping her fingers in and out.

"Gods, Karlach," she moans breathlessly, speeding her fingers up as her own need grows. Karlach hisses and roughly grabs Shadowheart's hair, pulling her face closer so that their lips are less than an inch apart.

"Fuck, kiss me while you make me come," Karlach pleads, and Shadowheart eagerly complies. She moves her lips against Karlach's, thrusting her fingers into her in time with her hips. Karlach loses her faculties as Shadowheart brings her closer to climax, clinging onto her long hair for stability more than as a tool of control. She wraps her tail around Shadowheart's calf to ground herself even more, worried that if she doesn't, she'll simply collapse. The two pound against the door rhythmically, certainly making a racket in the hallway outside but neither of them can be pressed to care. All that matters is bringing Karlach to orgasm, and when she can feel Shadowheart's arousal seep through her pants and dampen her thigh, she comes with an explosive wave of pleasure that reverberates through them both. Shadowheart continues to ravage Karlach's lips as she rides through the aftershocks of her climax, steadying Karlach's rutting hips with her hand.

Shadowheart breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. She doesn't have much time to recover, because within seconds Karlach has her spun around with her back to the door.

"Oh no, you don't get to give me a mind blowing orgasm and think I'm not going to return the favor," she hisses, pinning Shadowheart's wrists together above her head. She becomes putty in Karlach's hands, letting her lover mould her into any shape she wants. Karlach quickly drops to her knees, eagerly pushing aside the panel skirt separating her from Shadowheart's dripping cunt. She laps her tongue along her slit, relishing in the debaucherous sound that escapes Shadowheart's mouth.

"Oh you might want to hold on, Fringe," Karlach smirks devilishly. "Maybe grab hold with one hand and cover your mouth with the other, else we'll give anyone walking by outside a free x-rated show." The tip of her tail skates up the inside of Shadowheart's thigh, and Shadowheart catches the loud moan with her hand just before it tumbles out of her. Taking Karlach's advice, she grabs hold of the tiefling's one good horn and braces herself against the door as Karlach's tongue pushes its way past her folds. Karlach slips her hand under Shadowheart's thigh and drapes it over her right shoulder. Her tail teases her entrance while Karlach closes her lips around Shadowheart's swollen clit, sucking lightly. Shadowheart digs her nails into her cheek, trying to keep her noises under control, but she's finding it harder and harder as Karlach slides her tail into her cunt, the cartilage point dragging against her walls deliciously.

Karlach presses her long claws into the supple flesh of Shadowheart's ass, leaving evenly spaced pink puncture marks. Shadowheart cants her hips wildly, overwhelmed by the sensation of being fucked slowly by Karlach's tail and her skilled mouth moving around her clit. She bites down on the skin of her palm to try to keep quiet, but the shrieks tear through her nonetheless. She tightens her grip around Karlach's horn, feeling the pressure build as Karlach's tongue laps up the slick juices flowing freely from her.

"Fuck, Karlach, faster, please." Her words are muffled by her hand, but Karlach hears the plea loud and clear. She increases the pace of her tail pumping in and out of Shadowheart while she alternates light flicks and slow stripes on her clit. Shadowheart's legs begin to shake violently and she squeezes her knee around Karlach's shoulder as her orgasm wracks through her, the white hot lightning vibrating through her core and crackling out into her fingers and toes. Karlach dutifully drinks in Shadowheart's spend like it's the sweetest wine.

Shadowheart finally collapses against the door, fully boneless and unable to hold herself up. Karlach stands, wiping her face crassly on her sleeve before capturing Shadowheart's comparatively cool lips in a tender kiss. She presses her forehead against her love's and hums contentedly.

"Next time, tell me you're not wearing underwear after the event, please."

[sardonic-the-writer]

—the great potato war

SUMMARY | nobody cared about potatoes. nobody at all. well, except for you and your neighbor, who's pink hair and pig skull never failed to catch your attention. it was about time you approached him

PAIRING | technoblade x reader

REQUESTED | no

WORD COUNT | 1.8k+

WARNINGS | none

AUTHORS NOTES | some nice healthy platonic fun times with our boy techno. ive been binging his channel as of late

🥔 Masterlist 🥔 Navigation 🥔 Rules 🥔

Sitting on his knees in an uncomfortable kneeling position, Technoblade felt a trickle of cold sweat work its way down the back of his neck. He could feel the sun beating down from above, its relentless rays doing nothing for his sweaty skin.

Wiping a gloved hand along his forehead line, Techno looked up from his work. The man's fingers and palms were stained with dirt splotches and grass marks. His pink hair had been tied back and tossed in between the back of his shoulder blades with ease, a sturdy hair band keeping it in one bunch.

Technoblade stood up to his full height. He could practically feel his spine elongating already; a few sharp pops even rang out from his tired joints to audibly show how hard he had been working. Although, as he looked out upon the sight in front of him, Techno couldn't help but think that it was all worth it.

Hundreds and hundreds of harvested potato lines laid in front of him with a barren look. Remnants and scraps of the former vegetation littered the scorched ground. Brown spots and dried up greens were what were left of the hybrid's hours of heavy work.

With a haughty grin, Techno walked off his elaborate plot of land. It took a minute too, seeing as he had a ginormous five acres to show for it.

“That’ll put me ahead.” He grinned, taking off the worn leather gloves he had been wearing to garden. In an almost comical manor, he rubbed his hands together like a film villain painted in black and white, smiling.

From the comfort of his secluded property, getting to the hub was easy enough. Just a small stroll on an obscure dirt path and he was in a familiar looking village.

Each time he passed the threshold from lush forest to dusty village, Techno could always feel the strain in his muscles as he tightened them, a feeling of discomfort washing over him in small waves. It wasn't as if he didn't ever like visiting the place. The collection of small wooden houses and abundancy of vendor stands were more than useful in tasks such as expanding his farm and gathering materials. It was the stares he was less than partial to.

Eyes filled with fear and wonder alike followed Techno as he walked stiffly around the place. He should have been used to this by now, more than aware of the titles he had collected over the years. Blood God, the Blade, even the occasional call of potato man was tossed in his direction. The last one made him want to laugh the most, if he was being honest.

The pinkette didn't blame people for staring. He was more or less a myth taken form to them. A pink haired warrior hiding behind a pigs skull, often seen buying the materials needed to reap all kinds of vegetables. In all his years living just a few miles away from the public, the only locals he had ever spoken to were the sellers. Maybe an occasional traveler, interested in what the rest of the world was doing now that he had left it—despite the fact he had vowed he would never return to the life he had been leading before. No. He was much more content growing crops than watering the fields of battle with blood. So yeah, not exactly the type people around here were used to seeing.

"Alright. It was about time I met the asshole that insist on making my life a living hell."

Techno's swift movements stopped in the middle of the sidewalk he had been steadily moving along; an admirable feat from whoever had just caught his attention—something that didn't happen often.

His sharp gaze was hidden behind the bone white skull he insisted on wearing so much, sweeping around until it eventually landed on the source of his brief pause.

It was someone short. Well, at least shorter than him, which was normal for about everyone he had ever met—save for a teenage enderman hybrid he had used to know.

Skimming over the height difference, the second thing that caught his attention were their hands. They were almost as dirty as his, if not dirtier. Even through the grit and grime he could see a few hardened callouses dotting their skin. A detail that almost made Techno tilt his head with mild curiosity. Almost.

Thirdly was their stare. It was scarily memorable of the very same one he saw each time he looked in the mirror. Determined, with layers and layers of vast emotions underneath it.

The stranger approached him, hands in pockets as they bit at the inside of their cheek. Looking far more comfortable than anyone else would have in approaching the infamous piglin hybrid.

"Do I know you." Techno's voice was monotone. Flat. Less than a question, and more of a not so subtle way of getting them to leave him alone. It didn't work.

"Nope! Pretty rude of you, considering we've been neighbors for about half a year now. But I'll let it slide." The carefree tone and amused smile contradicted what should have been the hostility in their words. Their sentences were certainty set up to be directed at him with a different emotion if they so much as pleased. But Techno knew how to read people, be it common folk or kings sitting high above him on a throne as they lied about their sins. And this person before him certainty had no intent to do anything beyond chat.

For some reason that confused him more than anything else.

"I don' have any neighbors." His voice was clear. Slightly raising it for the sake of the people around them doing a poor job of eavesdropping; a silent call to get moving. To which the small crowd immediately did.

"Maybe so you think. But tell that to me and my house I've been living in for six months. If you ever bothered to visit anywhere other than this shithole or your huge ass garden you would know that."

They knew about his garden, along with his traveling habits. If they were telling the truth about being his neighbor, that would be less of a concern to hear. But Techno decided to play it safe, straightening up to his full height and curling his fists as if to insinuate a threat. He didn't feel like scaring off anyone more than he usually did, although this time it would be with intent, but he'd rather continue on his way with a bit of guilt rather than with the possibility that someone from his past had finally caught up with him.

"Oh relax tough guy. I'm just here to talk potatoes."

He stirred at that.

"..what?"

"Potatoes. You know, the thing you spend all your time farming." The person who had still yet to introduce themself carried on with hand motions, blowing out a slight sigh. "I really didn't think the second after I moved some crazy guy would be setting up shop with the same idea as me. I mean come on, how many people in the world have even considered going into potato farming as a hobby. You and your—your incredibly overpowered gardening tools."

It took a second before all of the dots began to connect in Techno's head. The way they had approached him with a competitive tone (albeit it playful), how they only seemed interested in talking about vegetation, the roughness of their hands—

"(Y/n) right?" In spite of himself, Techno found a small quirk in his lips forming. Not quite a smile, but something similar to it all the same. He was rewarded with a joyous nod of confirmation.

"Bingo."

So this was the person who had been after his number one potato these past couple months. Why the hub had such a thing as a leaderboard for who could sow the most vegetables, he had no idea. But it proved a successful way to pass his time. A task that included beating out the only other person on that board who was a threat to his number one title—the very same person who was currently standing across from him.

"Technoblade. Nice to metcha." He held out a hand, surely baffling a few of the people who were still staring at him and (Y/n). It was expected later there would be whispers of the interaction between the infamous man towering over an unassuming civilian, but he didn't mind.

"I know who you are." They took his hand with a snort, laughing. "I've been burning holes through your name on that stupid leaderboard ever since last summer. Your mental, you know, for farming a million potatoes a day."

"So I've been told." A brief memory of an old competitor made its way to the front of his mind, the word squid leaving as soon as it had came.

"I suppose asking you to stop farming would be a waste of time?"

He almost laughed.

"I'll take that as a no." (Y/n) tightened the grip on his hand with a fervent determination before letting go. A silent challenge. The first one that had interested Techno in a long time.

"How about we make a game out of this?" His ears perked up, blood red eyes capturing (Y/n)'s as they proceeded. "If we're to continue in this great potato war, how about we settle around a five hundred million goal. First person to it gets bragging rights. As well as, I dunno, something of the others. We can work that part out later."

"You're going down nerd." He grinned, sharp canines showing excitedly.

"Oh please." You rolled your eyes with the same sort of smile. "his'll be a cake walk for me. Or a potato walk for me, you could say."

"Bruhh."

"Like that one aye? How about, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be mashed potatoes!"

"Anyone else want to be my competitor? Anyone?" Techno pretended to call out to a crowd, scaring the nearby foot traffic as they scurried around the little bubble they had both created in the street.

"Alright fine fine you've made your point. My humors simply too good for the likes of you." (Y/n) returned to stuffing their hands in their pockets now, body weight shifting from foot to foot.

Techno took one more long look at them. Sweeping their figure with a feeling he hadn't encountered in a long time.

He was having fun.

"May th' best farmer win."

"Oh I will."

And with that, he set off in the opposite direction of you, determined to get back to his farm before you did yours.

[polymorphiczooid]

Marcille's frog suit is complete! This was my third-ever project using a sewing machine, so I've put a bit on my process for suit and staff-making below.

The Body: I drafted a pattern from a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants (somewhat following these tutorials: 1 2). From this I made a truly terrible mock-up from a fitted sheet -managing to sew the arms on inside out (twice, in two different ways). I also learned that the back panels need to be larger than the front panel, to accommodate the butt.

Originally, I wanted to make this out of raincoat material or pvc fabric to get that slimy frogskin look. I couldn't find any in the right color (or price), so I went with a cheap polyester satin. I think latex might have been also been a good alternative, but I've never worked with it before.

To get the white patterns on the frog, I just eyeballed where I thought the stripes should go on the paper pattern and cut it into smaller pieces (which I had to tape back together when I made the lining - this time out of blue bed sheet).

In the manga, there are large visible stitches in front. To mimic this, I decided to have the front lace with a thick cord. This meant I needed to install gromets on the front opening - but I was worried the hardware would tear right through the fragile satin. To prevent this, I reinforced the opening with a strip of denim encased in red cotton.

The smart thing to do would make the front zip up, and add a panel of fake lacing over the top. Since I didn't, 1) it takes a while to put on, and 2) the suit gapes open in places.

Frog Head: I spent a lot of time trying to figure this out - but in the end, I went with a very simple construction.

The hood consists of four main panels: the frog-shaped front and back panels of the outer hood, and two red panels for the inner hood. I 1) attached the white and orange parts of the outer panels 2) sewed the outerpanels together, and the inner hood panels together 3) cut a hole for my face out of the front outer panel, 4) sewed the edge of the inner hood panels to the face hole, 6) stuffed with batting from an old pillow, 6) added some extra fabric to close the hood under the chin.

I didn't quite get the shape right - the eyes should be rounder/ protrude less, and the cheeks/marcille's ears should sit lower down on the head. I think adding an extra panel to the back of the head would help it sit better. It's pretty 2D in profile, so my face sticks out of it too much.

Finally, using a stretch fabric for the inner hood (or a drawstring, that could tighten the hood itself) could make the hood fit snugly around the face. My hood was too loose, and I constantly had to adjust its position.

The frog eyes were also a bit tricky. The satin frayed to much to add large decorative stitching, so I had to sew little pieces of cord individually to the eyes. I probably should have made these smaller and more numerous...but my fingers were pretty sore form hand sewing.

The Shoes: I decided to make some boot covers for my docs, because making shoes from scratch is beyond my skill level.

I made a pattern by wrapping one shoe in a plastic back, then masking tape, and tracing out what looked like some important seam lines. I sewed all the pieces together except for top of the shoe, which I left open so 1) bagline the show cover, and 2) sew in the frog toes.

The toes themselves were sewn out of cotton and, stuffed with batting and old crochet squares. Then everything except the toe-tip was covered in orange satin. I did this since I was worried that the satin would not play nice with paint (foreshadowing). The toe-tips were then painted with a mix of black acryllic and liquid latex (for flexibility).

To keep the shoe covers on the shoes, I added some elastic around the bottom (salvaged from a fitted sheet). They also needed to close in the back - but I didn't have and velcro or zippers and I was running low on gromets. Instead, I made some loops out of scrap leather to run the lacing through. This looked cool but it was really hard to lace up myself!

Gloves: These were made the day before the convention, and are terribly slapdash.

Normally when you make gloves out of non-stretch fabric you need to add gussets to allow your hands bend, without the gloves being too loose. I did not do that. I just traced my hand on the fabric, and gave myself big finger pads and plenty of ease. They turned out pretty meh!

One issue was the finger pads themselves: it's hard to sew in a circle, so they were lumpy in shape. This lumpiness was enhanced by the way I stuffed them: just shoving stuffing into the finger tips. which is also where my fingers have to go. So every time I took the gloves on and off, the fingertips would get out of shape. I think hollowed foam balls would have been a better choice for the finger tips.

In addition, I painted the fingertips with the same latex/acrylic mixture I used on the toes. While it dried just fine on the cotton, the paint remained really sticky - so they picked up dust and peeled rather badly.

The gloves only had four fingers in the manga, so that's what I went with. But it was pretty uncomfortable with the pinky+ring finger sharing a home, and it didn't even look good.

Ambrosia (the staff): This was a real last-minute addition to the costume, done the night before the convention.

The base is a wooden dowel, and the hoop in a long tube of cotton fabric that I stuffed very firmly. I anted to make sure the hoop wouldn't fall off, so I "drilled" a hold near the tip of the staff (I.e. I shoved a screwdriver through the soft wood like an animal), and added grommets to each end of the stuffed cotton tube. I then created a tight mechanical join by running leftover cord though one grommet, then the dowel, and then the other grommet before tying it off.

Next, I wrapped a ton of different materials around the hoop and body of the staff: coord, twine, paper florist "rope", and paper-covered florist wire, etc. This was secured with an ungodly amount of hot glue. When possible, I tried to new strands under pre-existing ones for some extra security. I really like how wrapping the cord around the soft-hoop created the impression of vines growing around a living branch.

I painted the staff in three layers: base coat of red-brown, then a "wash" of watery black acrylic , and a dry brush of a lighter brown. I did not do a good job getting the paint evenly over the surface! From some angles the white cotton is still very visible, and I probably should have painted it before wrapping anything around it.

The sprout was made by sewing two leaf-shapes out of cotton, hot gluing it to a small snip of florist paper, and then hot gluing the stem to the hoop. Not bad for a rush job!

Overall: I think the feet and staff came out the best! People recognized me at the convention too, which is always the real test.

[erenspussy420]

Sfw and nsfw headcannons for crewel and Crowley (seperately )? With female reader plz

SFW/NSFW for Crowley and Crewel! Hope you enjoy!

Fem Reader Insert

MDNI 18+ ONLY. Nsfw will be under the read more line.

Sfw: 

Dire Crowley:

This man is cheap, Like expect that during this relationship, however fear not! For he is so humbly gracious to have lavish vacations with you at the expense of the student body.

 Though for my fellow Crowley hoes out there, Crowley can be romantic. Crowley is doing his “best” and honestly it’s kind of endearing how this man flounders at trying his hand at “wooing” you. Expect plucked flowers and shiny things on your pillows, and over the top letters he has stuffed under the door of your room.

True to bird fashion, has attempted to make a nest for you and ngl it is pretty comfy.

He has horrid fashion taste, never let him pick out your clothes.

Crowley absolutely loves it when you stroke his hair, but really melts when you stroke his back, he covers you in his cloak like a bird covers themselves in their wings.

The more time you are with him, the more he trusts you enough to take his mask off. This is a serious matter, he even drops all pretenses of his goofy persona. You’re one of the few people in all of Twisted Wonderland who has seen his full face, that is something he can ever truly be grateful for.

He totally gives you sweet pecks throughout the day, though probably not in front of the students lol. He totally would in front of his staff members, likes to rub it in that he in fact does have an S/O

He totally humble-brags about you.

His hair is actually pretty nice to run your fingers through, and its unfair how nice it is.

Smells like parchment and ink, with a bit like a sharp wind from above. Bury your nose into him, and smell the soft scent of the forest.

Divus Crewel:

HUSBAND MATERIAL

Fuck, okay, he is actually the most reliable man here and competent as hell.

A real gentleman, and pretty respectful of your boundaries. 

A day starts with a morning kiss and ends the night with a goodnight kiss. His mouth was made for kissing and he's the type to kiss you slow but deeply.

This man will spoil you, clothes, dates, a stimulating conversation and he’s genuinely invested in you.

You get to wear his coat and it's so smooth under your hands. You feel fancy as fuck wearing it. Smells like him.

Unfortunately due to his job, and Crowley's malarkey, dates tend to be in between what little time you two can make for yourselves. However, even simple little dates between you feel sweet, and the vacations leave them quite…enthralling.

Honestly, Crewel helps pick out your clothes and upgrades your closet. Will respect your decisions in the end, but low key judges crimes against fashion. *aka Crowley*

Will make anything you want. Man has a binder dedicated to ideas he has for you. Seriously, color coded and seasonal outfits.Strolls through the town with you, fingers laced together. He presses a kiss on your knuckles that make you swoon.

Adores the hell out of dogs, so hopefully you like them too, or else this ain't gonna last long. If there is a dog near by you bet your sweet ass he's gonna pet it. Wait one day, he's gonna show up with a box of puppies and you can't even stop him.

He smells like expensive cologne, a hint of musk, leather and a subtle spice you can't name, but God does it make you wanna bury your nose into his skin. To his displeasure, he can't always get rid of the scent of potions on him. 

Nsfw:

Dire Crowley:

Okay, I'm gonna be super honest with you. I cannot see this is starting, than a hot hate-fucking in his office.

Birdman is submissive.

You're gonna have to pull the reigns here, he does top occasionally and ugh he's pretty good at dirty talk. He's into edging can you even belive the audacity of this man?

If you love marking, recieving or giving, he has lipstick for it you know. Just saying is all.

He has a cute dick, better than he deserves. Its smooth and girthy, and Crowley is pretty pale so is his dick. But his head is cute flushed pink. His balls are sensitive and he loses it if you suck on them.

This relationship started as a hatefuck to a romance

Despite Dire's shady self, he truly does care about you. Wants to make sure your needs are also being meet, having you cum around him, screaming his name makes his wing flutter in pleasure.

Why he is so generous, he's more than willing to surrender himself to you as your toy to use. Tie his hands back and bounce on his cock till his balls are empty and leave him there dirty with his cold cum dripping down his balls.

You have his heart all in a twist when you grab his face to kiss him deeply when he cums in you.

This man has a fucking humiliation kink I just fucking know it. He praises himself too much, but the insults have him leaking crying "yes yes tell me how bad I've been! Spit on me!" Degrade him, step on him, call him useless, just as so long as you remember to reassure him he's still wonderful and that you love him.

Divus Crewel:

This man doms and there is no questioning it.

Dom/sub play have you seen that whip and collar. No way that man doesn't have that kink.

Mod is frothing at the mouth

He isn't into gagging as much as one would expect him too. Oh he totally is into it, but he perfers hearing your moans and pleas unfiltered as you try not to cum agaisnt his orders.

He has a big cock and we all know it. Thick at the base, the head a beautiful red hue, with this thick vein under it that feels good to run your tounge on. Curves slightly to the left. His balls are well rounded, and a bit heavy. Cums comes out pretty thick.

Loves watching you hump his leg to get off, though he might have to punish you to "behave" better.

He has so many toys for you, though getting a dildo of his own cock is a gift in itself and have to work for it. Plays with those vibrator with a remote, watching you squirm trying to find relief by squeezing your thighs as he presses the button for more power.

He's really fantastic with aftercare.

He gives you that hot kiss, tounge sucking when he presses his hips into you, cock hitting the spot that has you rocking into him for more.

He has custom lingerie made for you, the types that make you feel like the sexiest being in the world. This man will fuck the living daylights out of you.

Scratch his scalp,  tug his hair makes him buck relentlessly in you.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Watercolor and Daisie

warning : fluff, mutual feelings, comfort, tiny angst, older man younger women, no use of Y/N, reader is female

Van Helsing x fem!reader

Summary : It was just supposed to be a quick purchase for his watercolours. But when he sees the lovely saleswoman, as pretty and innocent as a Daisie. But the tables turn as night falls and he fears for his flower.

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It was a coincidental encounter in the big city, but it was an encounter that would change the lives of both of them. London is one of the great cities of the world - risky, loud, modern and full of people and mysteries.

Whether Jack The Ripper or just the moving shadows, they all found their place in London. Also a creature of immortality, of bloodthirst of which only a handful of people knew. Dr. Van Helsing was one of them.

The vampire hunter with his dark coat, the expensive fur collar and the white shirt, which was set off by his dark blood-red vest. A handsome, engaging, perhaps mysterious man. A man with many sides, his good kind ones and his strong ones like his will.

He was firmly convinced that he would send the creature back to hell. Eliminating the threat of London. His way led him through the streets of London the lanterns were not yet lit and yet the sun was slowly setting in the sky.

It bathed the city in a golden colour and illuminated everything like a canvas on which the colours spread. In it he moved purposefully towards the small art shop where he hoped to get new colours. His last painting, a small farm with a cow and blue flowers, had used more paint than he had intended.

Letting his gaze wander through the street, only a handful of people came towards him, most of them staying indoors at an increasingly late hour. But he knew that the more time that passed, the better it would be for Dracula.

Shaking his head slightly as he thought again of the horrors he had encountered, he tried to focus back on his colours. Reaching the shop after a few moments and stepping inside, the small silver bell sounded its announcement.

A more rustic shop appeared, finely crafted wooden shelves and dark velvet curtains together with the chandelier created a pleasant atmosphere. His bright blue eyes travelled around the shop and landed on the various smaller golden signs.

The various art materials were written in fine script. ,,Sir, can I help you?" a female voice sounded and his attention went to the young woman standing behind the counter.

She herself was looking up from a smaller canvas standing next to her, which appeared to be the one she had been painting a few minutes ago. ,,I'm looking for watercolours, Miss," he replied, giving her a gentle smile as she nodded and walked around the counter. He knew she didn't have to, but apparently she valued customer service.

Walking over to him and making a welcoming motion, she led him past the marked shelves before they arrived in front of the watercolour section. ,,Thank you, my dear," he said gratefully, giving her a grateful, almost knowing look as she stopped in front of him for almost a moment too long.

Her eyes were on him for a moment almost too long, running over him and hardening on his leather gloves for a moment too long. ,,You're welcome to call me if you need any help," she said hastily, giving him one last friendly look as she headed back to her counter. Running his fingers over some of the products, he picked out the colours he needed and went back to her, satisfied.

He saw her smile effusively at him and he couldn't help but compare her to a pretty Daisie. The pretty and innocent, pure white petals and the bright cheerful yellow inside.

She was cute, he thought. ,,I hope you found everything?" she asked as she put the items into a small bag and accepted the money he had taken from his wallet. ,,Yes I did, thank you, you have a really nice shop Miss, I will definitely come to you again," he said goodbye and took the bag.

He briefly saw sadness flash in her eyes as he turned away. Walking to the door, however, he stopped in the doorway and turned to her once more. ,,What time do you close?" he asked more seriously and with a hint of concern.

She looked surprised for a moment and replied cautiously, ,,At nine o'clock at night. Do you want to come here again?" she asked but saw his brief shake of the head before he gave her a reassuring look.

Tried to ease the worry he had caused her and was relieved that it worked before he closed the door behind him and disappeared into the dark streets. Time had passed faster than he had thought, the sun had disappeared in the sky and he could already see the moon slowly rising.

Putting the small bag in his dark leather doctor's bag and already a few streets away from the shop he saw that he had forgotten his wallet. It seems I have to go to the lovely Daisie he thought and turned around to walk back towards the shop.

He had only gone a few metres when he heard a scream, bright and feminine. Immediately he felt his intuition. Told him it had to do with her. Running back the way he came as fast as he could, he reached into his pocket and felt the cross in his fingers before continuing down the path.

To his worry, he saw that the door was hanging by its hinges, almost as if someone or something had ripped it out. But he knew exactly who it was, knew what monster would be in the shop. ,,Get away from her, you monster!" he demanded, raising his cross in front of him as he stormed into the shop.

He saw Dracula bending over the woman's body, her hands pressed against his chest as she tried to free herself from the monster. It was clear that she had not succeeded, but what worried him was the blood hanging from the monster's mouth.

Dracula hissed at him, but the deepest night had not yet fallen. Van Helsing saw the godless creature looking out and then trying to escape the cross.

He was several woods and colours after the vampire hunter before the vampire fled out the door and into the night. Van Helisng rushed after him but as he looked out he realised he would not catch him. A painfully frightened sound pulled him back to the woman.

He saw her trying to hold herself upright against one of the cupboards and not fall over because of the lack of blood. ,,Calm down my dear, everything will be alright" he told her but saw only a faint tired look before he gently and carefully as possible took her and lifted her up in bridal style. ,,Do you have your quarters here too?" he asked her, concern in his blue eyes as he saw her blood flowing lightly down her neck, covering both her clothes and the floor.

She looked more emaciated, more tired and weaker yet still lovely carefully he put two fingers to her neck. A weak but steady pulse he noted mentally before he heard her whisper, ,,In the back room, the stairs" she said so softly he was afraid she would die of blood loss. Looking around with her in his arms he saw the door she was talking about.

He saw that the room around the stairs was used for storage but the steel stairs lead up. ,,We're almost there my dear," he murmured and closed the door behind him before he began to walk up the stairs, careful not to bump into her. Walking up the stairs he found himself in a small but pretty flat.

The walls were covered with pictures of every kind - small, big, round - everything was there. Going to her bed and gently putting her down, he immediately took care of her. Opening his bag and taking out the hand pump, he looked around for a bowl of water.

Finding it only moments later, he washed his hands but kept his gaze on her. He was afraid she might faint. Even though her eyes were closed, he saw that she was still there, with him.

Pulling out a chair next to her bed and sitting down on it, he grabbed a simple white cloth at the same time. ,,Don't be alarmed," he said reassuringly and dabbed away the slightly liquid blood still flowing from the wound with the cloth.

He saw her wince in pain and soothingly stroked her slightly trembling one with his free hand. ,,I'm here, everything will be all right, Miss," he said and dabbed the cloth in alcohol he had in his pocket over the wound, ,,Shhh, don't, but everything will be all right," he admonished himself lovingly and continued to stroke her hand, trying to take away the pain as best he could. Before he had cleaned and stopped most of the blood with the cloth.

Reaching into his pocket again he took out the pump and desinfected the two needles at the ends. ,,S-Sir I-I what was that creature?" she murmured, watching her fingers tremble with fear and her eyes show fear.

Fear that she was corrupted by the evil that could haunt her, had haunted her and was only prevented by him. The handsome stranger she didn't even know the name of.

Soothingly stroking her fingers, trying to give her his warmth, he replied, ,,A vampire my pretty a godless creature of the night. A creature that feeds on the blood of the living". Saw her close her eyes for a moment in fear, processing the information she had received from him.

Seeming overwhelmed and yet somehow understanding that it was not human, a creature of evil. ,,Thank you...so much," she thanked him and tried to sit up but was gently pushed back onto the bed by the older man. ,,It wasn't just my duty to help such a beautiful, talented woman has to be helped," he said with a smile and pointed to the various pictures hanging in the room.

He saw the little smile that came to her lips as she watched her work and was pleased that he acknowledged her paintings, praised and appreciated them. She hardly noticed the picks that followed as he stuck the needles of the pumps into her arm, she was too busy talking about her artwork.

The different methods she used from watercolour to oil and aquarelle, even pastel chalk could be found in some of her works. As his blood ran into her bloodstream, he watched her, listening to her excited and full of life despite her condition.

As he watched his blood flow into hers through the two rubber tubes, he couldn't help but feel a slight warmth on his cheeks. The gesture had a certain intimacy that he had only just begun to feel.

A few minutes later, he gently took the needles out of his arm and hers and pressed a cloth on her wound until it stopped bleeding before doing the same to himself. ,,You should rest for a few more days and you will regain your strength," he ordered and gradually packed his things carefully and gently. He saw how she seemed to realise what this meant and would have disappeared long ago.

But when he suddenly felt her gentle fingers on his, he paused and saw her look full of pleading as she asked, ,,But I am so terribly afraid, can't you stay with me until tomorrow?". He looked at the ticking clock on the wall, there were still a few hours until the safe morning. Besides, a gentleman would never leave a woman in need, especially not a pretty flower.

Putting his bag aside and wrapping his warm fingers around hers, he pointed to a small landscape painting. ,,Did you paint this?" he asked the obvoius, pleased that she immediately responded. Like a pretty flower in bloom, she excitedly told him about the painting and how she had been on holiday in the Alps.

She had seen them and it was so beautiful. But that's how they spent the next few hours, talking about her paintings and little trips she saved up for and sold the rest of her paintings with a heavy heart.

In return he told her with joy about his researches, his journeys and his fights. Was only more pleased that she found it fascinating how he worked and with what.

By the end of the night, as the clocks chimed again and again, she had fallen asleep in his arms, even snuggling lightly against him as he still gently stroked her fingers and watched her sleeping still form. Knowing that he now had more than one reason to come back to her shop and not only for colour. Perhaps also for the reason of love.

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@villainsidechick and @fanfic-she-wrote I thought you two might wanna read it since you two seems to be the only ones here that are blogging/writing/posting for Peter Cushing and his charcters