#thanks anon for reminding me to draw her

[sillyahhchana]

Have you ever drawn Gwen Stacy, I'd think she'd be so cute in your style, cuter than she already is lol ?!

Favorite girlfailure (ft. Comic gwen and pav🫶)

[heartorbit]

Ur last posts tags spoke to me personally. Like magical girl, swan lake, and little prince gachas? Yes, yes, and yes! Ive been rotating these in my head for so long.

"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you..."

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"Then it has done you no good at all!"

"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields."

^ this is SO wxs like oh my god. I’d love to know what role u think they’d be in the story

And idk much abt the other stories you said but I trust they would also slap as gachas

oh i love you. listen

i could honestly make a case for any wxs member in any role but i think the best fits for their characters are emu as the little prince, rui as the narrator, nene as the fox and tsukasa as the rose. or perhaps it's my emu favoritism talking

i'm not even sure how to justify or explain myself for each decision. source: trust me bro. emu has held on to her whimsy but lives in loneliness and rui has had his creativity stomped down throughout his life and nene's timidness gives way to her earnest desire to connect with other people and tsukasa cried and threw up because he's not special. does anyone understand me

again i think there's argument to be had for other roles, i think they could all potentially fit as the narrator in some way or another. or like, tsukasa as the little prince or nene as the rose or emu or rui as the fox could all work too. come into my inbox and send anons saying im super wrong so i have an excuse to talk about it more please.

OK wxs swan lake i will wait for until my final breath like they can't just make one of emu and rui's cheerful carnival team names "the duck and the crow" and expect me to NOT make this about princess tutu. you're joshing me colopal. though i think rui and nene would pass away doing ballet i know they are not doing their stretches sorry

[saintbleeding]

some wtgfs or gertrudeagnes?

[ID: Digital purple-toned art of Melanie and Georgie from TMA. Melanie is a thin woman with straight hair in a bob style, wearing dark glasses. She is seated on a staircase behind and slightly above Georgie, a fat woman with short, curly, greying hair. Georgie leans up to kiss Melanie, one hand pressed to the side of her head. They are both dressed in practical, unremarkable clothing and sturdy boots. Their surroundings are deep purple, and eerie lime-green light filters in from above them. End ID.]

me posting smth other than jmart in 2023? it’s more likely than u think

[abbysdruidess]

you ever see those tiktoks of ppl making to-go meals for their wives working at hospitals? i wanna do that for abby so badly 🥺 (i've seen some hcs of her being an orthopaedic surgeon and I think thats real af)

thank you for this anon<3 I was kind of in a writers block so this helped s a lot-send me more asks about my babygirl, my delightful wife.

l̳u̳n̳c̳h̳ ̳o̳f̳ ̳c̳h̳a̳m̳p̳i̳o̳n̳s̳ | modern au smut

wc: 1.3k (my longest!!)

tags: fluff, smut, domesticity, reader gets head for cooking for her wife(not that she wasn't getting it anyway), Abby eats it the whole damn thing on the kitchen counter

a/n: this is in the form of headcanons with a smut drabble in the end-lmk what you guys think<33

❦ I feel like in a modern au Abs would definitely choose a field that requires a lot of hard work(cause in the game also she overworked herself), so she's either a doctor or a construction worker(;)). I feel like she wouldn't want to choose to be a neurosurgeon like her father, bc as much as she admires his work, she doesn't want to be compared to him and she grew up with it, she wants something different. So her going into orthopaedics seems pretty reasonable.

❦ As for the lunch thing, I could totally see you making her lil lunches<3 She is careful about what she eats cause she wants maintain her muscled appearance, so she doesn't really go for the cafeteria food. Therefore, you make a habit of cooking food for the wife™️ every day. I imagine you getting one of these cute bento boxes and cook her some chicken, rice and salad the night before and set it up all cute<3

❦She'd always love it when you cook her food from your culture/country of origin also🥺because baby loved everything about you and wants to feel closer to you any chance she gets. In my country there's a lot of emphasis on fresh, unprocessed food so I imagine you growing a little garden outside your kitchen with fruits and vegetables, the works.

❦ Don't forget about dessert also-cooking a big tray of something like brownies or a batch of cookies on Sunday nights and put in on her lunch box with a note that goes like "finish your vegetables before you devour dessert!" or "eat lunch first, dear<3" . Bonus points if you kiss the note and get lipstick all over it.

❦ Maybe a coworker of hers notices one day(probably Manny cause he's the only one able to confront her about it) and goes up to her with a shit eating grin while she's eating it like "Damn doc, maybe that wife of yours can cook me up a lunch or too like yours sometime. She forgot to draw a heart on your brownies though." And normally if it was someone else she'd be pretty pissed off, because HOW DARE THEY mock the lunch her amazing, breathtaking wife worked so hard to make. But it's Manny so she knows he's just fucking around. SO Abby's like "Oh shut up Manny. You're just wish you had a girl who wants to make you lunch every day."

❦And truthfully she's extremely grateful for it, it's one of those things that reminds her why she married you, you care for her so much and cooking for her shows you look after her in one of the most vital, intimate ways possible. In the end of the week, once she comes home from work and sees you cleaning dishes in the sink, she walks up to you, leaving her little lunch box on the counter and wraps her big, beefy arms around you, while she whispers in your ear.

"I didn't thank you for lunch this week. I loved the cookies a lot.", and you can feel her breath slightly tickling your ear, the pads of her fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

"It's alright Abs, I like making you food. You need to stay fit, big girl.", you respond, while you turn around and run your hands down her biceps.

"Hmm, thank you so much for caring about my health babe, or maybe you just like that your wife is packing such heavy guns under her shirt, huh?" she teases. You can't deny though, you love her figure. You can feel her hands on your hips as she tenderly lifts you on the counter, and you sigh happily.

"Yes Abby" you roll your eyes. "I'm soo thankful I have such a strong wife. It is quite beneficial at times.". Your hands ride up her shirt, cupping her firm, silken breasts. She exhales all wobbly, you know how sensitive her breasts are. But you know your little game won't last long.

She doesn't respond, just leans her face into yours so your noses bump and smiles. She quickly makes light work of your shirt, tossing it on the floor and goes for the button in your jeans next, as you help her by raising your hips off the counter. In one flawless motion, she has removed both your jeans and underwear, tossing them off with your shirt. Once the bare skin of your ass makes contact with the marble of the counter you shiver, and Abby brings her girthy palms to rest under your buttocks, warming up the skin there and slightly groping it.

"Lemme thank you for lunch. You are always so good to me. My pretty, little wife". She raises one of her hands and gently runs her pointer finger where your folds part, making you gasp. Your hands reach to her behind and cup her firm ass. "Alright." you whisper into her ear, as your eyes roll in the back of your head.

She then kisses a line from your jaw to your belly button, leaving sloppy, open mouth kisses where the drool from her mouth remains visible on your skin. You could only wish it would imprint on it, immortalising Abby's passionate mouth loving on your body. You shudder as you feel her delicately kissing your pussy, rubbing her tongue on your feminine lips as if she was making out with them. Her tongue teases the sensitive flesh, as the nerves in the most sensitive part of your body are abused by this wonderful, wonderful woman. You let out small, staccato moans, and your hands reach the flesh of your breasts, cupping them and toying with them deliciously. Abby continues the barrage on your cunt, licking up your clit as the room is filled with the sloppy sounds of sopping flesh.

You sit there, helpless but to take it, as you feel the coil inside you tightening up from the lovely tongue of your wife. You suddenly feels as though a band has snapped, and you are overcome with heavenly, internal bliss as your orgasm washes over you like a wave. Abby guides you through it, leaving soft kissing on your cunt and whispering "That's it baby, come like a good girl". Once it stops, you can feel her rising up to kiss you, her tongue rubbing yours in small circles as she lets you taste your salty tang.

"Mmm" you let out a soft giggle. "I'm so grateful I have such a caring attentive wife.", and she makes you gasp as she her fingers come up to your sensitive folds, dipping her hands into your hole and spreading your juices all over your inner thighs. You let out soft moans at the overstimulation but allow her to continue the assault on your cunt nonetheless, as she thumbs you clit gently, watching it twitch in between your legs.

"Damn right you are, baby. Wanna take this to the bedroom?" She leans into you and leaves a kiss on your ear lobe. "I'm not through with you yet." you don't reply just yet, because you know she still wants to have a go at you, and she will no matter what. You grumble a small yes at her as she picks you up bridal style and moves you to the bedroom, kicking your discarded clothes out of her way.

What could she say? Abby lives to please you, and you live to please her. And both of you are thankful for having each other to help whenever, whether that is with lunch and everything the other person needs.

whoaah, who wrote that🤔anyways, lmk what you guys think of it and ofc send me more asks abt Abby<33

[cambion-companion]

How woud Aemond react to his wife cheating... in chess?

Every time he looks away, she steals a piece off of the board and just smiles when he looks back at her. Like she isn't even trying to win she's just doing this to mess with him a little

Oh wow, I found another drunk drabble prompt! Thank you Anon, this is a hilarious follow up to the message I answered "How would Aemond react to his wife cheating" haha

Aemond x wife!reader | tipsy reader | cheating at chess | Aemond indulging his lady, teasing ensues

"It's your turn, Y/N."

You continued sipping on your wine, your mind already fuzzy from the drink, swirling the bitter liquid around in your mouth as you studied the chessboard in consternation.

Aemond sat back in his chair, his lips pressed together as he watched you with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but you held up a hand to shush him. "I'm thinking."

"A demanding endeavor, it seems."

"I'm not losing to you again, Aemond."

"Perhaps more wine would help." He smirked, catching your eye as you shot him a withering look, taking another deliberate swig from your goblet.

"Fine." You moved your rook forward several spaces.

You winced as Aemond immediately took your piece with his knight. "Fuck."

"Check."

You groaned, holding the rim of your cool glass against your aching temple.

A servant bearing more drink arrived, drawing away your husband's attention for a few crucial moments. You reached forward, surreptitiously removing Aemond's own rook from the board and stowing it in the cushions beside you. "Ah, thank you." You beamed at the servant as he refilled your cup.

Aemond was studying his board with a raised brow, his violet eye flicked up to your studiously neutral expression. "Your move, Y/N."

"Oh yes, of course."

This went on several more minutes; you losing your pieces to Aemond's keen strategizing and him losing his own pieces whenever he was sufficiently distracted enough for you to steal them.

As Aemond turned his head to observe a group of guards moving across the hall, you tried to take away his queen without him taking notice. Long fingers caught your wrist as Aemond turned swiftly back to you, aware the whole time of your ruse. He pulled you toward him, unseating you and causing you to tumble onto his lap, scattering the remaining pieces across the board.

"You tried to take my queen?" He rolled his eye, snorting a short laugh. "You do know cheating at chess is nigh impossible."

"I'm the only queen you need, my king." You giggled, feeling his dexterous fingers begin probing at the ticklish part of your sides.

Your face was flushed from the wine and the sudden proximity of the Targaryen prince you called husband.

Aemond sighed, hoisting you so you were more securely seated against him. "I've always thought it interesting the queen is the one with the most power over the board." You watched him with soft adoration as he continued his musing. "She is the one with the most power to protect the king."

"I'd protect you with my life too." You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, feeling the low vibration of his chuckling, his grip on you tightening slightly.

"My ember." Aemond said affectionately into your hair before placing a gentle kiss to your crown.

The warmth of his arms encircling you combined with the heady heat of the wine caused your eyes to droop with sleepy contentment. "Take me to bed, Aemond." You murmured, your lips brushing the soft skin of his neck.

"As my lady commands." He rose with you in his arms, your arms coming to grip around his shoulders as he strode toward your chambers. "Remind me to not play chess with you while you're drinking."

"You're just a sore loser." You smiled, kissing his temple. "My strategizing prowess is clearly too much for you to handle."

"Hmm." Was your terse answer, Aemond shaking his head in fond bemusement as he carried you to bed.

[frostedpuffs]

I have a really specific request but can you draw Adrien and Marinette as MLP Ponies please :)

listen i dont normally take requests but anon...you have no idea how much i absolutely live and breathe cringe. i got so excited when i saw this in my inbox. OF COURSE i made a whole au

(i have to thank my friends for helping me flesh this au out with their amazing ideas. i was stuck on what to do with adrien's cutie mark for the longest time!)

marinette is a pegasus and adrien is a unicorn! marinette has a lot of energy and would be buzzing around all over the place all the time. she is almost always flying! her wings are small, so she has to flap them really fast to stay afloat (like a bug's wings!) her special talent is designing, so i based her cutie mark off of the plum blossoms on her shirt and added a ladybug and sewing needle. though she doesn't have the aid of telekinesis like a unicorn would, she doesn't let that stop her from creating amazing art and clothing!

adrien comes from a long line of regal unicorns and is tall and lanky. he is unfortunately a blank flank even as a teenager due to the fact that he has not had the chance to explore many interests yet from his strict upbringing. he is a little insecure about it but he tries not to let it get to him, especially since his makeup team does a pretty good job of applying a fake one because it would be "unfortunate for the brand" if gabriel agreste's son still had not received his cutie mark as such a late age! not even his friends know he is a blank flank...not yet, at least. he does not like the fake cutie mark.

his father does put him into a lot of studies, including magic studies. adrien is a pretty skilled magic user but it's not his passion. he doesn't discover his true passion until after he meets marinette and his other friends.

the miraculous are still a thing in this au. adrien/chat noir wears his ring on his horn! when they're transformed, they become temporary alicorns, gaining a magic-based horn for ladybug and wings for chat noir.

one of my favorite headcanons for adrien's future career is that he finds a love for baking, so i used that here!!! when baking with marinette one day he discovers that baking is his special talent and he really, really loves it, earning his cutie mark (a cupcake in chat noir colors) a moment later :') they are both VERY excited! adrien would come clean about the fake cutie mark to the public and would become an advocate for blank flanks everywhere, reminding ponies that it's okay to take their time to figure themselves out and to not try and pressure themselves into finding their special talent when it's not the right time, because it will come eventually.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x wife!fem!reader

Summary: When your sister's new mystery fiancé is someone you know from university, your husband isn't very happy.

Genre: fluff and hurt and comfort

Warnings: protective!Tangerine, reader is pregnant, mentions of stalking, knife/gun wounds, swearing, suggestive ending.

~ thank you to the anon who requesting this! ~

"Ah," you groan, burning yourself on the saucer as you transfer the pasta into the strainer over the sink. Your husband, who'd just finished setting the table to his liking, peeks his head inside the kitchen. 

"You ok, luv?" he asks, coming over and guiding your hand to the faucet where he turns on the cool water, "All better, yeah?" he asks, almost mocking in the kindest way and he kisses the crown of your head as the water runs over your wounded palm. 

"My poor girl," Tangerine is really laying it on thick now as he kisses behind your ear. "D'ya need me to finish up here?"

You turn, looking up at him, and nod, "Would you? They're coming over at nine and I haven't even showered or changed—and the warmth is making me feel all woozy." You emphasize this point by fanning at your face with your wet hand, water droplets cooling your skin, and Tangerine cups his hand over your stomach. 

"'Course my darlin'. What an awful husband I am havin' ya cook while you're pregnant. I'm sorry, my luv," he says genuinely, ignoring your attempt to remind him you'd wanted to make the meal since it's your sister's favorite, as he practically shoos you away. 

"I'll call ya down when they've arrived, hm?" 

You nod, smiling as you make your way up the stairs to shower and change for dinner.

As the oldest, you've always been protective over your sister. Andy had this tendency to jump into situations impulsively and when she'd called and gushed over her new fiancé, you had been slightly concerned for her considering she'd gotten engaged within just four months of meeting him. 

So, with Tangerine's approval, you had invited them both over for dinner. 

Once you finish adjusting your dress in the mirror, you make your way downstairs and smile at the familiar sound of Andy's rambling.

The room smells like the spaghetti you'd started and Tangerine had finished, and you see that he has poured both Andy and her fiancé a glass of wine.

He hasn't poured one for himself considering he doesn't drink when you don't. 

Seeing you, Andy instantly squeals and rushes up to pull you into her arms. "Oh my, just look at you," Andy exclaims and looks at your dress, which shows your baby bump, "You been taking good care of my darling sister?" She looks at Tangerine with a light-hearted frown and points at him accusingly. 

"Mmhm, only the best for my darlin'," Tangerine smirks and moves closer so he can kiss your cheek. You feel all warm and fuzzy inside as you smile at your husband. You're too preoccupied with your happiness to fully hear Andy introduce her new fiancé until Tangerine nudges your shoulder and you look up at your sister's future husband. 

You're happy you hadn't been holding a wine glass because it would have fallen onto the ground instantly.

"This is Oliver," Andy says, hugging him closely as she draws hearts on his chest. The man is tall and slim and he has dusty blond hair. His eyes, which the blue reminds you of Tangerine's, are piercing into yours and you shudder. 

You know him. 

Tangerine can see your discomfort and he squeezes your hand. He doesn't mention it. He doesn't want to make a scene and he's distracted by Oliver shaking his hand. "Hi," Oliver then moves his hand to you and he continues to stare. You feel sick but you know you have to shake his hand anyway.

"Hi," you answer and strain a smile.

Andy jumps in immediately with a new topic of conversation, happily introducing the man she loves to you and Tangerine. You feel like you're underwater as you stare at Oliver and all those memories; of the bundles of flowers and the endless phone calls swarm and drown you. 

Tangerine's hand in yours is the only thing now keeping you above water.  

"Excuse me," you say early into dinner as Tangerine finishes serving everyone some pasta. You've barely sat down but you suddenly feel sick to your stomach so you rush to the bathroom.

After only a moment, you hear your husband's worried voice from behind the bathroom door. 

"My luv, are you alright in there? Is everything okay?" he calls and raps on the door with his knuckles. 

You let him in instantly, your eyes round as you pull him inside the bathroom. Tangerine stumbles inside and looks you up and down with confusion. 

"The baby's okay," you reassure him breathlessly and his expression softens.

"I didn't ask if the baby was okay," he says gently but places his hand on your stomach as a way to show he's grateful the baby is okay, "I asked if you were okay, my heart." 

You look up at him, holding in your frustrated tears. "I know Oliver," you whisper. 

Tangerine frowns but he understands what you mean. "You do?" 

You nod and start to explain. "Yeah, I know him from university. We were classmates freshman year and then—it became weird. Remember that stalker I had? It's him. He was obsessed with me and would ask me out numerous times and when he finally asked for my number, he wouldn't stop calling and following me around. The university got involved and he left junior year. I haven't heard or seen him since but Tan, I know it's him. I just know," you sound scared and your husband hates the sound.

"Sweetheart," he says and pulls you in closer, his hands cupping your cheeks. "I believe you, darlin'. You wouldn't lie about something like this. What do you need me to do? Should I kick him out–or—"

"No!" you lean your head on Tangerine's chest, sighing as you clutch at his shirt, "Andy clearly loves him. I can't ruin this for her."

Tangerine's hand rests against the back of your head, his thumb soothing in your hair. "But, if he makes you uncomfortable—"

You interrupt him, "I can deal with one dinner and then I'll tell Andy about all this privately. It has to be her decision, okay?"

"I do not want your stalker as our brother-in-law, Y/n," Tangerine says sternly. 

"It's not about us! It's about Andy and– please can you pretend I didn't tell you anything tonight?" you say, "And I'll pretend I don't remember him."

Tangerine can see the determination in your eyes. He wants to protest and tell you you don't have to go through with this dinner but he can tell you want to protect your sister more than yourself and he knows he has to respect that.

So, he puts on his best fake smile as you both return to the table. Tangerine hates pretending like this, especially because now he's overanalyzing every look Oliver is sending you. His blood boils even more when Olicer asks you, 

"How far along are you?"

How dare that bastard ask about his baby?  

You take a bite from your fork and strain a smile, nudging Tangerine's calf to convince him to stay quiet as you answer the question. "Almost six months now," you say and Oliver uses this as an opportunity to look you up and down which makes you visibly tense. 

"Yeah, my darlin' has been a real trouper," Tangerine fakes a laugh at Oliver's question and rolls up his sleeves, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your cheek. You know what he's doing instantly because you've seen the number of bullet wounds grazes and knife slashes he has on his forearms, as well as the tattoos that cover his skin. 

He's intimidating Oliver and by the look on the poor man's face, it's working. 

"And she has me to help 'er, right, luv?" He smiles and tilts his head in Oliver's direction, drumming his hand on the table as he brings attention to the scars there and the amount of rings he's wearing—especially his wedding band.   

Oliver stares at you less after that. 

As you say your goodbyes to Andy, you tell her you'll call her later, and then smile politely at Oliver—who doesn't say much to you or Tangerine and once your front door is shut you turn around and narrow your eyes at your husband. 

"I saw what you did," you say and Tangerine raises his arms in mock confusion. He winks and then starts to clear the table. You follow him, trying to do the same but he sends you a look and you retaliate, instead leaning against the kitchen counter as you watch him.

 "You didn't need to show him your scars like that. Andy doesn't know what you do for a living, remember?" you sigh. 

Tangerine hums, "I wasn't showing them to her," he shrugs and loads up the dishes into the dishwasher. 

"I wanted that bastard to know what I would do to him if he even considered hurting you again. I wanted him to know what I'm capable of," he finishes.

You sit down on a chair, holding your stomach and you sigh. Tangerine turns to look at you over your shoulder, "Ya okay, darlin'?" he asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he walks over and kneels in front of you, his hands on your knees. 

You nod. "I'm just a little tired," you whisper.

Tangerine caresses your cheeks. "See, this is why I had to intimidate the bastard. You were under unnecessary stress and that makes him a threat to everything I hold dear," he whispers and kisses your stomach over your dress. "Ya know I won't let anyone hurt you, luv, yeah?"

"I know," you say, running one of your hands in his curls and twisting one in your finger as you contemplate admitting this. "I did think it was hot," you admit, "Seeing you show off your arms like that."

Your husband's grin widens. "Yeah?" 

You glare at him and suppress a smile. "Oh, don't get a big head about it, you prat." 

Tangerine laughs and stands up, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He straightens up and flexes his muscles, sending you a playful wink. "Is this making ya all hot and bothered for me?"

You shake your head but the way you're staring at him says otherwise. Tangerine helps you stand, smirking as he sees that look in your eyes. He knows your pregnancy sometimes makes you hornier than usual and he can read your moods easily now. 

"Want me to make the ache go away?" he teases and kisses your cheek. 

You laugh breathlessly and wrap your arms around his neck. "Okay," you say and then look at him seriously, "But you're doing all the work. I just wanna lay there," you pout, "I'm tired."

Tangerine smiles and nods, "Such a princess," he teases and then succumbs to your wishes, "But anything for you, luv'."   

[rosemaze-reveries]

I would like to ask for a idv male hunters(of your choosing) reacting to a female reader where she suddenly goes "omg your tits are bigger than mine.."

maybe it was their first meeting, maybe she was bored when she got chaired, whatever the case I just thought it'd be funny.

SJKASKJA thank you for the laugh, i opened this ask like WHAT!!!! but i will indulge u anon... <3

⚠️ suggestive content (strip tease, clothed fondling & flirty banter).

⚠️ reader uses she/her.

🐦‍⬛📸🦎⚡🌪️🦌

🐦‍⬛ Nightmare doesn't immediately respond. He sends a sideways glance to you, who's bound and bored at a slow-ticking rocket chair. "I guess you'd be hard-pressed to find any bigger than those. Must be nice to brag about," you rattle on. If you're trying to seduce your way to freedom, you're failing miserably. Nightmare stalks over to your chair, his broad chest casting a shadow over you.

"Would you have that same attitude once you've been smothered beneath them? Keep mouthing off, and I might just test it."

...What? Was that supposed to be a threat? Anyway, it didn't achieve the desired effect. You blink up at him, not totally opposed to the idea.

📸 Joseph's gaze flicks to your chest. He blinks away a milisecond later, but not quickly enough to escape your notice. A cheeky grin appears on your face as if to say made you look. "I disagree," he tuts. "Remind me, which one of us is so inept with her brassieres that she needs me to unclasp them for her every night, and – despite loathing them so – dutifully puts them on again the next day, as if her poor, aching back demands it of her?" Knowing you can't say anything, he sends back a winning smile of his own.

🦎 Luchino readily cocks his attention to you. "Oh? Like what you see?" You just never noticed how visibly his chest protrudes, especially from a side view. But your comment attracts him closer to your chair, and he decides to give you a little show. Slowly, too slowly, he slips off his jacket, letting it crumple to the floor.

"Oh," escapes your lips once you realize what's going on. Next goes the first button of his shirt.

⚡ Alva sets down his pen when you drag your nails down his chest. What began as an innocuous shoulder massage quickly turned into marveling at the broadness of his pecs. He's sure you meant well, but that comment draws a sharp sigh out of him. "I'm glad to know I'm entertaining you..." he murmurs. That snaps you back to reality: you wanted to be serving him today. You kiss his shoulder blade as an apology, kneading his tense muscles until he lets out another hitched breath.

🌪️ Ithaqua takes your comment as an invitation to reach forward, cupping an icy hand over one of your breasts. It happens so fast you can barely register it. Then he decides: "They're not too bad." He has never been one for delicacy, but that was so blunt it startles you into a fit of giggles. Sometimes you forget he's inexperienced with this sort of thing.

🦌 Bane looks down at the pout you're sending him. This is the first time he's let you hug him, and you're just realizing how much you have to strain your neck to avoid being suffocated by his chest. "A bigger body just means a stronger shield. Nothing more to it than that," he says dryly. You roll your eyes. He's always so hardheaded.

"You're more like a pillow to me," you try. "I wish I had some of these."

He still doesn't give you the reaction you're fishing for. He silently clutches your waist and tips back onto his bed, so that you're properly laying on top of him -- like a pillow.

[taurasiluvr]

ry can i be the 💐 emoji?

alsoooooo cannot stop thinking about calling diana 'daddy' while she scissors me, kissing my ankle and calling me her good girl 🤍🤍🤍🤍

omg anon stop that's gonna make me go insane

diana's hands would be pushing your legs further apart as she rubs herself against you, ignoring your whimpering and the anticipation and need building to a fever pitch. she rubbed herself against you, her pussy sliding along your slick folds, teasing you mercilessly.

"daddy, please," you'd pleaded, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and desire.

she'd keep ignoring your cries, her focus solely on driving you wild with need. her movements were deliberate, each rub sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, but never quite enough to bring you over the edge.

"look at you," dee murmured, her voice low and husky. "so desperate, so fuckin' needy. is this what you wanted, baby? to be reminded of who you belong to?"

"yes," you gasped, your hands clutching at the sheets as you tried to push back against her, seeking more friction, more contact. "yes, daddy, please, need you."

"that's right, fuck," she said, her tone commanding. "you're mine, all mine. my good fuckin' girl,"

with that, she shifted her position slightly, aligning herself with your slick and puffy pussy. she'd beginning rubbing herself against you, harshly, leaving no room for you to even breathe. you cried out, the sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and overstimulation.

dee set a relentless pace, each rub driving hard, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. her hands gripped your ankles, holding you steady as she took you hard and fast. the room filled with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

"daddy," you whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt the tension within you coil tighter, ready to snap.

"cum for me, baby," dee growled, her own voice rough with arousal. "let go."

with her permission, you let yourself fall over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that left you breathless. your body trembled, your vision blurred, and all you could do was hold on as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

dee continued to move, drawing out your orgasm until you were a quivering, spent mess beneath her. finally, she slowed, her thrusts becoming gentle, almost tender, as she brought herself to climax. she let out a deep groan, her body shuddering as she found her own release, her lips finding your ankles as she peppered kisses all over them.

then she'd collapsed next to you, pulling you into her arms, both of you panting and spent. she'd held you close, her fingers gently stroking your hair as you both came down from the high.

thanks anon for the thought! & if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt.1

Encounter (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Guys. I am so sorry. I don't think that Arlecchino oneshot is being posted tomorrow. 😿Trust that it will be posted this weekend. Take this as an apology (I am fr spoiling y'all Arle fans) for the pushback. This is a repost to something I submitted as an anon to @/megistusdiary so there's a chance you've already seen this. It was written a while ago so quality is not up to par. This is the Black Butler inspired demon au! that I talked about in my poll, check it out if you want a little bit more on this concept. (Thank you guys for voting in it! :33 I'm looking forward to writing the oneshots). Series Masterlist Content Warning: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence

Everything hurts. It burns, burns, burns, and you can't feel your limbs and your vision fades in and out. Your broken form twitches on the ground, and as your assailants approach you, ready to wrench the remaining life out of you slowly and painfully, with your final burst of energy and concentration, you let out a guttural screech, a summoning spell spewing from your raspy throat and bloodied teeth. 

At first, you think nothing happens. They stalk you, unfaltering despite what you have just called for. Wearing teeth-baring grins and depraved intentions, they near your crumpled body, with their dirty, despicable hands reaching out towards you. Your half-lidded eyes shut fully, and you heave out a sigh of resignation, giving up the futile struggle of staying alive. 

You hear it first before you actually see it. A sound distinct only to stilettos clicking against the ground. It jerks your attention immediately, and you twist your head slowly to face the oncoming figure. Black heels with gold adornment catch your eye, and then--

"Well, well, looks like I found the doll that called me," you hear a deep, feminine voice sibilates, voice reverberating throughout the chamber. Your gaze slowly trails up the newcomer's figure, and the white clothing, snow-white hair, and feminine features cause you to mistake her as an angel. Red-crossed pupils meet with yours. A shiver works its way up your spine but you stare in awe regardless. What kind of human was this?

One of your tormenters inquires rather rudely about the woman and storms towards her haughtily, ignorant of the fact he has just sealed his fate. There's an audible, irate click of her tongue, then a snap echoes the room. For a brief moment, your sight is filled with just red, and then your eyes widen as the aggressor bursts into a beautiful explosion of blood and guts. She walks past where once the man stood without pause, now just a puddle of blood, tutting at the blatant disrespect of the formerly alive human. Her feet stop just before you and her shadow looms over.

"A-arle...cchino?" You croak weakly as your hazy gaze sets on her. She looks so handsome, beautiful like a guardian angel, even when she's covered in red. Her lips curl up slightly and she crouches down to hook an arm behind your back and knees, lifting you bridal-style. Heat radiates from her cold-blooded being and it is so much more comforting than the icy hardness of the floor. You immediately bury your face into her shoulder while your needy hands grip onto her coat out of desperation and fear. Beneath the intense iron smell of blood, she smells of something floral, you noted with dulled surprise. 

"That is me, the Knave. And what have you called me for?" She purrs from above, repositioning you in her arms so she could support you with one arm instead of both. 

You give one single glance behind your shoulder towards the now cowering group of people, their behavior reminding you of feeble sheep rather than the bloodthirsty pack of wolves. You think that you'd like lamb chops after all of this. 

Turning your head back, you suck in a steady breath, your voice unwavering and clear despite being muffled into her clothes. "Kill them." 

"As you wish." 

Even as she draws out the sweetest, most revolting of screams from the remaining alive people, you find peace in your arms. You don't watch, instead, opting to rest your head against her and try to fall asleep to your former captors' begs of mercy. A hand combing through your hair wakes you up. You admire her sharpened red nails and her black hands, so contrasting against her unblemished and perfect skin but pretty all the same. It looks nice, sifting through your hair, it feels right, it feels perfect, even if they're dipped in blood.

"Well, I suppose we can work out the contract at a later time. For now, rest, my dear," her voice is soft and it lulls you to sleep in her arms. She tucks your head underneath her chin and walks away from the bloodbath, her darling wrapped tightly close to her.

[hard-core-super-star]

Hi rubix, love your writing btw!! so would I be able to request a wandanat x reader fic where it’s readers birthday and they don’t usually have time or people to celebrate with so Wanda and Nat decide to change that for this year and whisk her away to somewhere like Paris to celebrate and have a great time with some smut at the end 🫣

It’s my birthday in a few days and I’m in dire need of this 🤧

romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours [W.Maximoff; N.Romanoff]

pairing: top!natasha romanoff x bottom!reader x switch!wanda maximoff

summary: your girlfriends set out to make your birthday as memorable as possible.

warnings: smut -> minors, you know the drill, bye [threesome; smut so soft it borders on spicy fluff; like...one inch of plot; grinding; fingering [R receiving]; the daddy and mommy kink is implied but not explicit lmao; wanda's low-key a brat because...yeah :) ; clothed sex AGAIN because i think it's neat, okay?; cheesy ending...again]

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: hi, lovely anon, thank you for the kind words! i hope i'm not too late with this but either way, i hope you had a fantastic birthday! also, you get the honor of having requested my first ever wandanat fic so that's cool. this was my first time properly sitting down and writing for them so let me know what you think! i really hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

“Guess what.”

You look up from the book in your hands to find two pairs of expectant eyes on you. You’ve seen your girlfriends wear many faces since you met them and yet it never fails to surprise you when you catch a glimpse of the genuine joy they wear around you.

The one that makes your heart skip several beats and earns them both teasing comments from the rest of the team.

“What?” You ask as your eyes flicker back and forth between them and the proud grins on their faces.

Wanda playfully rolls her eyes at you. “That’s not how the game works, detka.”

“Come on, go easy on her,” Natasha comes to your aid for once, a subtle hint that even she must be excited about whatever news they’re hiding.

“Yeah, what Nat said.”

You and the redhead share a look that draws a soft chuckle out of your girlfriend. “Remind me how I’m the one who spoils y/n again?”

“Can you stop stalling and tell me what you’re hiding already?” 

Your question earns both a glare and a laugh before you’re finally given the answer you’ve been searching for. Your girlfriends may love you more than anything else in the world but that will never stop them from teasing you like their life depends on it.

“So impatient…yes, fine, we convinced Tony to let us borrow one of his stupidly fast jets for tomorrow.”

Two pairs of green eyes watch your reaction expectantly only to find your face twisting into confusion. “Why?”

There’s a beat of silence where they both stare at each other, silently trying to figure out how to proceed. Clearly, they weren’t expecting you to question the exciting news they had brought to you.

It happens in a flash.

One second you’re sitting alone in bed and the next, your girlfriends are on either side of you, contradicting touches landing on your arms. It’s strange how easy it is to tell them apart. How cautious Natasha’s fingers still are when they trace random patterns onto your skin compared to Wanda’s gentle pressure as trails down to grab onto your hand, unmistakable tendrils of red magic moving to put your forgotten book back onto the shelf.

Natatsha’s the first to break the silence, all her earlier playfulness gone and replaced by subtle concern. “y/n, it’s your birthday tomorrow.”

“So?” You shrug. “It’s just another day.”

Wanda tightens her grip on your hand and successfully steals back your attention. “Nonsense, malyshka. You deserve to be celebrated.”

“Guys, it’s not a big deal,” you assure them. “I really don’t need anything. Plus, I have too many things to do.”

“Not anymore.” A sweet kiss is placed on your lips before you can voice your complaints. “We’re stealing you away tomorrow.”   

“But what about-”

“Already talked to Steve.”

“And-”

“Kate will understand.”

“How-”

“Stop looking for excuses, detka.” Natasha rolls her eyes as she pulls you closer to her. “You’re coming with us.”

You want to argue, you truly do, but then Wanda’s gluing herself to your side, eager hands slipping under your shirt, and you quickly come to the conclusion that spending all day with them is the best way to spend any day. 

Including a birthday.

Especially since you’re more than used to treating it like every other day of the year. It’s not that you don’t like celebrating it, you’re just always too busy to make real plans and no one’s ever thought to surprise you before.

But of course, your girlfriends aren’t like anyone else.

Which is how they manage to get you onto one of Tony’s jets, reminding you of the existence of time zones and how you have to leave right now if you want to make it to your surprise destination on time. You don’t really mind either way but you’re pretty sure you haven’t seen them this excited about something in a while so you go along with them anyway.

The jet ride seems never-ending despite how fast the aircraft is supposed to be. It doesn’t help that you’ve been having trouble sleeping peacefully the past few nights and Wanda’s running a hand through your hair in the way that makes you melt.

“You’re allowed to go to sleep, you know?” Natasha whispers with a teasing smirk. “We still have a long while to go.”

“Whose idea was this again?” You grumble as you drop your head down onto the redhead’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be a brat, love. You’ll thank us when we get there.”

You bite back the rest of your complaints and sink into the sweet arms of a dreamless sleep. You miss the way your girlfriends watch over you the entire time as well as the long list of things they each want to see and the various ridiculous ways in which they propose to get everything done.

They ultimately agree to let you choose once you’re awake again…something that backfires when the jet finally lands and you’re still far off in dreamland. They go back and forth on whether they should wake you or not, especially since it’s morning where you've landed and the jetlag will definitely destroy you.

You look far too cute to rouse though so Natasha gathers you up into her arms with ease and carries you in her strong embrace the rest of the way.

When you finally do wake up, a few hours have passed and you're safe inside the lavish hotel room Wanda reserved using one of Tony’s endless credit cards. The change in scenery startles your drowsy mind before you feel familiar arms pulling you close.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Wanda says softly as she easily pulls you onto her lap.

“Hi,” you mumble, tucking your head into the crook of her neck.

“Hi, darling. How's the birthday girl feeling? Still sleepy?”

“A little.” You let out a soft sigh as your girlfriend’s hands travel inside your loose shirt, slender fingers tracing random shapes onto your warm skin. “I’m sorry I ruined the trip.”

She scoffs and the sound instantly reminds you of Natasha which pulls a small smile onto your face. “You didn't ruin anything, detka. It's your birthday.”

You don't say anything in response and your girlfriend is quick to pull your thoughts away from their current trajectory. She keeps exploring your waist with one hand while the other one comes up to playfully tug on your hair.

“How about you stop hiding and look at your surprise, hm?”

It’s unclear whether it’s her words or her grip on your hair that makes you obey but neither of you mind. You reluctantly lift your face from its hiding place and let the green-eyed woman guide your gaze toward the large window of the room.

You gasp the second you realize where you are. “You guys brought me to Paris!”

Your excitement manages to break through your exhaustion which earns you a laugh from your loving witch. “Only the best for our girl.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe a little.”

You turn your head at the sound of Natasha’s voice, eager hands reaching out for her instantly. Your silent request is instantly fulfilled and the redhead easily slips into bed next to Wanda.

“I can't believe you would do this for me.”

“Believe it, malyshka.” She leans forward and easily captures your lips with her own.

Wanda huffs as she’s left out of the moment, her hands wandering under your shirt once again. You're too lost in the kiss to notice where her fingers are going until they brush against your nipples.

The sensation makes you jump which makes you grind against the witch’s thigh in a way that leaves you gasping for air. 

“That’s cheating,” Natasha warns after she pulls away from you. 

“What happened to spoiling the birthday girl?”

This time, you're the one who gets left out of the moment as they fight for the control that always rests in the Russian’s hands. They get caught up in their knowing stares and bruising kisses, leaving you aching and panting for their attention.

It’s a game they love playing with you but you’re far too desperate already to last much longer without their hands on you. 

Thankfully, Wanda decides to take pity on you. She gives your hardened nipples a soft tug, smirking against Natasha’s lips when she feels your hips buck once more. “I think someone’s feeling a little needy.”

The redhead turns to look at you, a perfectly raised eyebrow painting her face with the stern humor you've come to know so well. “Is that right, kotenok? Are you feeling needy?” 

You nod, all the heat in your body rushing down from your face to between your thighs. “Please don’t tease.”

“Aw, look at that, Nat. You're not going to deny her when she looks like that, are you?” You're not sure if Wanda’s actually being genuine or not but you don't really care as long as she’ll help you get what you want.

“Who’s the brat now?” She chuckles before reaching out for you, pulling you onto her lap, and leaving behind a pouty Wanda. “Come here, let me give you what you want.”

The Russian is true to her words and wastes no time in sliding a hand past the waistband of both your pants and your underwear. Your complaints about the lack of sink-on-skin contact between you are forgotten as Wanda situates herself behind you, plump lips trailing feather-light kisses up your neck. 

A gasp tumbles out of your lips once Natasha’s fingers finally find your drenched cunt. She moves slowly, almost too slowly, but you already know she’ll be quick to remind you to be patient if you dare whine.  

“You don’t have to be so cautious, detka,” Wanda whispers against your flushed skin. “It’s your birthday, remember?”

“Don’t listen to her, it’s always so much better for you when you’re a good girl.” She easily slips two fingers into your waiting hole, barely holding back a laugh as your pussy swallows her digits.   

Your hands grip her shoulders for stability while they both work in tandem to make you lose the last bits of control you still have over yourself. 

The witch’s hands find their way under your shirt yet again except this time she’s gripping your hips and helping you move in time with the redhead’s movements. It’s the slowest, most agonizing, of dances and yet the pleasure has you arching your back in seconds.

“Look at you,” Natasha coos, taking a mental picture of how delicious you look writhing in Wanda’s arms. “You’re so pretty when you’re like this, malyshka.”

Your walls clench the second you hear the affectionate petname and the Russian can’t resist the urge to lean forward and attach herself to your neck. Her thrusts are still slow and steady but then finally, her thumb begins to circle your puffy clit.

Your head falls back against Wanda’s shoulder and she laughs as you practically go limp from the pleasure. “You’re gonna break her, ‘Tasha.”

“She likes it.” She punctuates her point by curling her fingers just right and pulling out a string of moans from deep within you. “Don’t you, darling?”

“Mhmm, please don’t stop.”

They share a look you don’t see but you do feel the evidence of yet another standoff. It’s like Wanda just can’t stop herself from pressing all of Natasha’s buttons when they’re like this. Which means it’s your job as their devoted girlfriend to let them turn your pleasure into a competition.

And they do just that.

Wanda’s grip on your hips tightens until her nails are digging into your skin and she’s practically forcing you to ride Natasha’s fingers. Natasha, for her part, increases the speed of her thrusts, launching you closer and closer toward your orgasm. She’s still drawing it out of you, though,  still balancing speed with soft kisses and murmured praises.

It’s a strange combination but it works perfectly. Just like your relationship with them. It’s something that transcends words, something that can’t be explained, merely felt…and it’s also exactly what brings you to the edge.

“Nat…please…”

“Please, what, detka?” Wanda responds for your girlfriend.

“Can I cum? Please?”

You half-expect them to make you beg for a little longer but it seems your special day has left them more merciful than usual. Natasha’s lips make their way up your neck and onto your jawline until she reaches your lips and gives you the permission you’re searching for.

“Go ahead, cum for us.”

You’ve heard the words thousands of times and yet they make you fall apart like nothing else. The slow build-up finally reaches its peak with one more swirl of Natasha’s thumb against your clit and you literally fall face-first into your orgasm.

“Such a good girl, love. Always so good for us.”

Your response comes in the shape of a muffled whine as you bury your face into the redhead’s neck. 

The sound makes both of your girlfriends smile and Wanda moves to sit on Natasha’s other side while they wait for you to recover. “I guess we’re not leaving the hotel any time soon.”

“Are you complaining, Maximoff?”

“Shut up.”

Their bickering makes you giggle. “Wanda’s being a brat again, Nat.”

“I know.” The green-eyed woman turns her head to press a barrage of kisses against the side of your face. “I think that means she can’t join us in the shower.”

The comment draws another complaint out of the young witch and you happily rest in your girlfriend’s arms while they start up another playful argument you’ll eventually have to get in the middle of.

You don't mind though, there's no other way you'd rather spend your birthday than with them.

[the-s1lly-corner]

hello! Im one(1) of the anons that requested the jane doe reader and i thought of a funny scenario

So the character of jane doe was basically decapitaded so, imagine if reader's head isnt atached to their body, and can take their head off .

The tadc cast react to the reader taking off their head and then putting It back on like nothing. Tyy!!!

( remember to rest and drink wáter) :)

TADC cast x a reader with a detachable head!

oh hoho this one is going to be fun because my TADC oc can do the same thing, can take their limbs and head off at will and as needed; so i may or may not let my excitement show in this post and use my oc as a placeholder.. i definitely will.. which reminds me, i have a sketch of my ocs human design as well as a messy ref of their digital body... i have got to draw them more.. maybe ill finish the human sketch sometime today after this post... speaking of this post! this is the last request in my inbox ! after this im gonna take a break for a bit then reopen requests! do not send in requests at this time, please! (this goes for everyone regardless of fandom </3)

CAINE:

technically i think you could consider him with a detachable head... because i dont... think he has a neck... so technically.. not phased at all, he has seen things from various different circus members.. but lets say you came before zooble, and you were also the first circus member who could do that... i think he would be really into it and be amused. probably flies right up to you chattering about that little trick of yours

POMNI:

uncomfy by it, i think it would take her a while to get used to it... i think she would be the same with zooble thanks to the "these are people" thing, with the only reason she didnt freak out at zoobles dismemberment in the pilot being because she was preoccupied with her panic and confusion of this new setting

RAGATHA:

mildly uncomfortable anytime it happens but no where near as uncomfortable as pomni, since she has had her time to get used to a bunch of weird stuff in the circus; both from the circus itself as well as the people in it.. will guide your body to your head if theres ever a scenario where the two get separated.. hand holding... smiles

JAX:

probably tries to convince you to leave your head in someones room or in a box and have some poor unsuspecting person open it.. i think that would scare anyone, even if they were used to your headless activities... probably laughs at your body wandering aimlessly trying to find your head if theres an occasion where it was forcefully knocked off.. probably nudges your head away... this only really works if your body has to blindly fumble and you having to telepathically guide it towards you instead of it just going into autopilot and knowing where you are automatically and has zero struggle beelining for the head... but fumbling... funny

KINGER:

owoo!! jumpscare!/ref

honestly i think sometimes he just rolls with it and other times hes bothered by it; really depends on how hes feeling that day... but i think the majority is that hes used to it thanks to zooble... has probably run off with your head on accident when he meant to run off with you as a whole, usually in the face of danger during an IHA...

ZOOBLE:

completely unphased by it since they can pretty much do the same thing! there isnt really much to be said since zooble neither feels this way or that in regards to your little decapitation trick... if they couldnt mess with their own parts though i think they would find your thing cool, though

GANGLE:

depending on what your digital body is themed around i think this would determine how gangle would feel about it... like zooble is mismatched and is seen taking out their antennae as well as their limbs being snagged off by jax... with zooble, is makes sense, they look like a mismatched mess of different parts.. so if you were something that could reasonably do the same thing i think she can overlook it... now the first time would still be a shock, no doubt about it, regardless of theme.. very careful whenever theres a reason they need to get close to your head, she does not wanna knock it off and potentially upset you

[papermatisse]

the ultimatum || J.WW

♗ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader

♗ genre: angst

♗ word count: 6.3k

♗ warnings: argument, break up, family problems, depression, overthinking, uhh

♗ synopsis: wonwoo is living a peaceful and happy mundane life with his partner, though outside forces and responsibilities prompt wonwoo to make a tough decision.

♗ (a/n): hello :) I have written smth :) this is for this request that I got in october and I've only just now gotten to writing it bc I finished my semester finally :)) thank you anon for your unrelenting patience I am so so so sorry for taking this long to write this. I v much so appreciate your understanding and your leniency on me 😭🙏❤️

main masterlist

It was silent. Nothing but the low hum of his radiator whirring somewhere in the background, serving as the sole ambience to fill the dreadful, awful silence that plagued the dingey, rundown apartment. He sat on his couch, the rough material scratching along the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling with this dazed, thousand mile stare. The haze of delirium had haunted him for days now, at first merely muddling his thoughts into this droning ambiguity that left him empty and monotonous. Though soon it seeped into the outer edges of his character, skin paling like death, lips settled into a permanent scowl, eyes clouded with no emotion—or perhaps that look was him drowning and wrought with every emotion his feeble mind could conjure up.

There were specks of happiness dabbled in the disordered web of thoughts in his mind. They derived from the lot of memories in the archives of his head, playing on repeat and reminding him of better days.

When he first met (y/n), bemused by the sight of this girl dressed to the nines yet soaked to the bone. A flimsy jacket, just as drenched as she, lay helplessly above her head as a makeshift and utterly unsuccessful umbrella of sorts from the storm raging outside. He watched her carefully, glancing every so often as he wiped away at the counter. She at first stood there, taking in her surroundings with what seemed to be a mixture of confusion and awe. Though soon, she seemed to catch her bearings as she navigated over to his bar, carefully sliding onto a booth as if it were an entirely new contraption to her.

"What's your poison?" He asked her as he made his way to her side. The sound of his voice had startled her greatly, as she near jumped out of her seat, head whirling to face the sudden addition to her solitude.

"I'm sorry?" She replied. Her own voice was far too soft for a bar setting, though he was thankfully able to catch on to her and the utterly hopeless stare she gave him. With a soft chuckle, he leant over the bar, drawing as close as he could to her without invading her space.

"What drink can I get you?"

She was quiet at first with this stunned expression, blinking at him in a stupor. Quickly shaking her head, she averted her gaze to the countertop.

"I'll just have water please."

A simple request, though he couldn't really argue, merely filling a glass with water and sliding it over.

"Can I at least get you a lemon to top off your beverage?"

"Sure," She replied, a small smile spreading across her face at his inquiry, and he felt just the slightest bit accomplished in his duties as a bartender.

Again, he watched her carefully as he continued with work and as she nursed the drink before her. She had finally shed the useless article of clothing from her head, placing it in her lap with a defeated sigh. She really was quite overdressed for a bar setting, wearing a designer dress suited more for a business meeting than for day drinking. It only served to further pique his curiosity, and as the time passed by and the rain outside refused to let, he saw his moment to answer his questions.

"So what brings you to this fine establishment? Aside from the obviously satisfying atmosphere." He smiled to himself as she chuckled at his mannerisms.

"As much as I love this fine establishment so far," she began, widening his smile at her own jests, "it was the first place I could run into when the rains started." He hummed, still looking at her with unwavering eyes, and she attempted to meet his strong gaze, though faltered at the end. With a sigh, she continued, falling under the silent peer pressure of his eyes urging her to continue. "I attended a meeting for my dad. It didn't really agree with me, so I left. Before I could catch a ride home, it started raining, so I ran here."

"Sounds like a pretty rough day." She agreed with a nod, fingers absentmindedly tracing over the condensation clinging to her glass. He could see she was trying to shrink away from his presence, though he was never one to back down. "How about I give you a ride home?"

"Pardon?"

"My shift's just about to end now. I'd hate to leave you here knowing you're trapped 'cause of the rain." She looked at him again with that same stunned appearance as she had when he first made his presence known to her. Sparkling eyes with this dazed nature to them, as if not fully there at the moment—entrenched in her thoughts with nowhere else to direct her attention. The realization brought another grin to his face, and he waited expectantly for her answer to arrive.

"I don't even know your name, though." Her words were laced with hesitancy, as if not even she was fully committed to the concluding limitations she had made of his offer. Because he knew it was a good deal for her, and for him, as a part of him truly didn't feel right leaving her all alone without knowing for a fact that she was safe at home.

"Wonwoo." He replied easily, sliding his hand over to her. Her eyes had watched the movement, lingering on him for a moment more, before she slid her own hand into his in a subtle, noncommittal handshake. "I can't take a stranger in my car though. What's your name?"

Another chuckle out of her, and another boost to Wonwoo's ego for the day.

"(y/n)."

It was out of character for him, as he usually pays no mind to drifters of any sort, though he can't find it in himself to ever regret having stepped out of his comfort zone to bring a smile to her face that day. And what had started as a mere happenstance crossing of paths had soon morphed into frequent visits with (y/n) wandering into the bar and waiting for Wonwoo to serve her a drink before taking her home.

It was near inevitable for the two to grow feelings for one another, and soon blossom a relationship.

Wonwoo felt the corners of his lips twitch up just the slightest bit, remembering how nervous (y/n) had been to ask him out one of the days he dropped her off home. The memory of how she avoided his gaze, fiddled with her hoodie, stumbled over her words, and all he did was sit there and wait patiently, heart bursting at the seams at the sight of her trying to profess her love in some meaningful way on a random Tuesday evening.

It had all been so heavenly at the start. His apartment was small and old, yet she brought this vitality to it that made him feel more alive everyday. The kitchen which once was strictly for sustaining his nutrients now became a haven where the two cooked anything and everything together. The living room which was once merely a middle ground for him to pass the time by with nothing better to do was now where they spent their days watching movies and talking to each other endlessly. The bedroom where he once fell asleep and woke up as is became his sanctuary, where he could fall asleep and wake up to the sight of her right beside him.

Though now as he recounted these memories, that happiness in him soon twinged into a bittersweet sadness, wincing at the reminder of when it had all started going wrong.

Wonwoo had become well aware of (y/n)'s background in living a comfortable life with her family's old money. How could he not with how flippant she seemed to be with her finances. He had been initially concerned with the steady stream of money she tossed away at things he'd deem inconvenient or unnecessary, though it all started to make sense in due time. The way (y/n) went about life with such little worries, at times even seeming naive in Wonwoo's eyes. Though it never bothered him. He was always glad to be there for her. To help her in things she didn't understand, be the helping hand as she experienced many firsts in the world, and he could tell she was just as happy to have him by her side helping. A mutualistic relationship, in which both parties thrived in each other's differences.

At that point was when Wonwoo knew he was in love, and he hadn't hesitated in telling (y/n) that on a random night where they debated what to watch and wound up deciding on perhaps the worst B-movie they've ever seen. Through their fits of laughter, tears in their eyes and stomachs sore, Wonwoo took a moment to admire (y/n) as she was. Freshly showered and smelling of his body wash, adorned in his old raggedy clothes, bright eyed and smiley, absolutely jubilant in his arms. It was an undeniable fact. Something he couldn't refute, nor anyone else for that matter.

“I love you.”

(y/n) had glanced up at him, laughter slowly dying down, though her smile remained in place, only growing by the second as she processed his words.

“Really?” He nodded, lips tugging up at her infectious giggles bubbling up as she nestled closer to him. “I love you, too.”

It had only taken a few weeks after their confession for her to deem it acceptable to introduce him to her family, which is how Wonwoo found himself at the doorstep of an imposingly large manor, adorned with his old button up that had been tossed in the back of his closet, and a bouquet of flowers in hand.

The mother was the first to greet them as they entered the house, appreciatively accepting Wonwoo's floral offering. Next had been her grandmother, who had been absolutely floored by Wonwoo’s looks, praising the Lord above for her granddaughter having found such a good looking man.

Then he met her father. A man who seemed to be the epitome of stoicism. A permanent scowl was etched into the aged lines on his face, and every advance on Wonwoo’s part was greeted by a cold glare and an indifferent grunt. None of the others were in any way taken aback by his mannerisms, however, and so Wonwoo could only assume this was just how his character was.

Some days had passed since the initial meet and greet, and Wonwoo found himself being unexpectedly invited once more to the manor by none other than the man of the house. How he had obtained his number was beyond him, but upon the request of a one on one session between the two, Wonwoo couldn't really care less about the ordeal of his privacy, merely relieved at the possibility that he hadn't completely ruined his reputation with his significant other's father.

Or so he was led to believe.

“I'm sorry?” Wonwoo spoke, voice low and barely above a whisper, yet strained as he attempted to piece together the sudden turn of events without outright creating a potentially unnecessary fiasco in this man’s office.

“I want you to break up with my daughter.”

Okay, so he hadn't heard wrong. He truly was just given the demand to break up with his girlfriend for seemingly no reason. Shocked couldn't even begin to explain the emotions swirling in his head, mouth agape as he attempted to make any semblance of the situation at hand.

The man remained seated across from him, briefly returning to his documents as if Wonwoo’s presence alone was nothing more than a hindrance to his schedule. Merely a minor detour in his work flow that didn't deserve even his full attention.

Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo summoned every ounce of strength within him in order to maintain his calm facade, pressing on with as steady a time as he could muster.

“May I ask for what reason you've sprung this upon me?” The older man paused to look at Wonwoo, giving him an unimpressed once over before returning to his work.

“Mr. Jeon, you seem to be a very good man. Strong, capable, good looking. You're practically everything a father wants for his daughter. Just not my daughter.”

To say he was taken aback would be the understatement of the year, because Wonwoo found himself practically reeling whilst trying to gather his thoughts and make sense of the situation. He felt his eye twitch momentarily, fists clenching by his side as he allowed the man to proceed with whatever motives he had in summoning Wonwoo in the first place.

“My daughter is scatterbrained as is. The last thing she needs is financial struggles to add to her carefree thought process.”

“I'm not rich enough for you?” Wonwoo spat out, venom laced in his tone. His head quirked to the side, a sharp glare directed at the man, challenging him to press on with his offense. Yet the man seemed unaffected by Wonwoo’s clear disdain, merely huffing an amused sigh as he continued.

“Don't take it to heart, kid. You'll understand when you have your own daughter in the future.” Wonwoo watched as he stood from his seat, rounding his desk to be face to face with him. “You know (y/n) as well as I do. She's not built for the harsh world out there.”

“You want to keep her sheltered in your little fantasy world? Coddle her until you're on your deathbed?”

“The world's less harsh for our kind.”

Wonwoo felt his blood boil, though remained as is. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, staring daggers into the man and his blatant ignorance.

“She's a grown woman,” Wonwoo began, voice low because he feared any alternative would involve shouting. “A grown woman capable of making her own decisions. Falling in love with whoever she wants to. Dealing with her own struggles without her father hovering over her.”

“She'll get just that if she stays with the likes of you.”

At this, Wonwoo found his composure faltering, brows furrowed in concentration, attempting to piece together what the man could possibly be insinuating. Judging from the prior turns of their conversation thus far, Wonwoo could only imagine the lengths this man would go to rid his life of Wonwoo’s presence.

A sly smile crossed the face of the man. Perhaps the first expression outside that of his permanent scowl. Wonwoo felt immediate discomfort from the sight, at the apathy emanating from beyond the man’s eyes. This cold, resolute stare that seemed near sociopathic almost.

“What are you insinuating?”

“If my daughter is to remain with the likes of you, a certified liability upon her, then I'd have no choice but to cut her off entirely.” Wonwoo felt his heart drop at the monotonous words coming out of this man's mouth, uncaring as if it were nothing more than a business transaction. “Cut off her finances, her access to my estate. Even her relations with myself and my family.” Wonwoo attempted to meet the hard and calculative stare trained on him, but his resolve was beginning to crumble with every new thing spoken. “You wouldn't want to be the cause of (y/n) being disowned, now would you?”

No, he wouldn't. It was a shitty ultimatum. Break up with my daughter or she'll be completely removed from her family. It was downright psychotic behavior. Something which shook Wonwoo to his core. He had only ever seen this type of character in fiction. Someone this unmoving, completely devoid of empathy. His thoughts and concerns only revolved around himself, only ever using the facade of concern for his daughter. Though in actuality, it had become perfectly clear to Wonwoo that the man only cared about his own personal image which would be impacted by his daughter's unworthy match.

He wanted to leave immediately. He wanted to actively punch the man before leaving this accursed manor. He wanted to whisk (y/n) away from the pitiful excuse of a father trying adamantly to control her every waking moment. He wanted to run away with her, live their own life without the crushing weight of societal expectations dampening the tranquility of their relationship. He wanted to return home where (y/n) would be waiting for him, safe from the outside world in the sanctity of their four walls. He wanted to make her laugh until her head was tipped back and her sides ached. He wanted to comfort her when times got too tough for her to manage on her own. He wanted to be the one to embrace all of the love she had to offer. He wanted to be her first and her last in everything.

Though he couldn't bear the guilt of having forced this ultimatum upon her. He didn't want to tarnish the image of her family because of the tyrant claiming to be her father. He didn't want to have her choose between her family or her significant other. The mere image of (y/n)’s agony wreaked havoc upon his poor battered heart. Images of when he first met (y/n), walking into the bar like a confused, wet puppy flitted through his memories, and he couldn't handle bearing witness to it once more.

That day, he left the manor without another word and without another glance behind him. He couldn't recall much of what happened following his departure, though sooner rather than later, he found himself walking into his apartment once more. His mind felt frenzied with thoughts and concerns, calculating his options and reevaluating his morals. Yet in a conflicting sense, he felt absolutely empty. Numb to the outside world, barely conscious enough to even discern how much time had passed since he had returned home.

By the time he had come to, he hadn't come to a decision. Or perhaps he just hadn't come to a decision he liked. There was a logical answer, one that took into consideration everyone's circumstances, one that accounted the world and the way it functions outside his own life. And then there was his selfish answer. The one that accounted for all of these factors, yet ignored them nevertheless in lieu of his own desires. The one that resulted in his own happiness, though at the cost of everybody else's.

It felt like an internal strife was dismantling the very foundation of his life, eating away at him until he was nothing left. A vessel devoid of its soul, wading listlessly in the universe, awaiting for, dreading the moment he'll have to make his choice. Or more correctly, make the only feasible choice in the matter. Because no matter how desperate he wants (y/n) in his life, and no matter how heinous of a being her father is, the guilt of the matter which derived from the conditions forced upon him overrode that of anything else. He couldn't possibly revoke (y/n)’s entire life, everything she's ever been accustomed to, merely for his own selfishness. He knew this was exactly what her father hoped for. Exploiting the way Wonwoo cared for (y/n) with every fiber of his being. And as much as Wonwoo wanted to deny it, his plan worked.

The sound of his door unlocking was what managed to jostle Wonwoo from his stupor, albeit only a microscopic amount, though enough for him to blink away his delirium and look up just as (y/n) came walking into the room, bright smile on display the moment her eyes landed upon the man seated on the couch.

“Wonwoo!” The jubilance in her voice managed to soothe the turmoil wrought in his heart, a wry smile curling at the corners of his lips. From where he sat, he watched as she mosied about the apartment as naturally as one breathes. Toeing off her shoes, tossing her things onto the counter, raiding the fridge for whatever beverage she can find to cool off. All the while, she rambled endlessly of her day, from the very beginning when she woke up to the traffic on her way to work, the new place her and her friends visited for lunch, anything to fill the void that usually enshrouds Wonwoo's apartment. And his smile grew more and more fond, impossible to even deny for a moment how happy he was in her presence. It was how they always worked. What he was, she was the opposite. In the silence Wonwoo had grown accustomed to, resided for most of his life, she offered that peaceful white noise to settle his nerves and quell his rampant thoughts. “You're awfully quiet today. Is everything alright?”

(y/n) had made her way to the living room, collapsing on the couch beside him, naturally nestling against his side. All the while, her soft eyes remained on him, never pushing him to talk, though assuring him he was always free to. The clarity of her emotions and the way she expressed them to him was always something he admired, and meeting those loving eyes for perhaps the last time finally broke his resolve.

“It's nothing, really.” He quickly turned away, not wanting her to see the way his eyes glossed over with unshed tears.

“Well, obviously it's something if it's got you like this.” Her voice was low, just above a whisper, preserving the still of the atmosphere set around them. The hum of the radiator filled the room, providing that subtle medium for Wonwoo to concentrate on and avoid the spiraling thoughts swirling in his head. Beside him, he could feel (y/n)’s gentle touch on his hand, thumb lightly brushing against his knuckles. He loved the way she treated him so tenderly, taking her time and speaking lightly, touches sweet and demure no matter how imposing he may seem to others. The thought of tarnishing this tranquility, destroying the relationship they both worked so hard to build up, killed Wonwoo inside.

His heart ached as he sat there, seconds ticking by, battling himself every step of the way. (y/n)’s persistent patience didn't help his cause in any way. Her presence which usually served as an anchor weighing him down to earth now felt like a damning weight upon his shoulders. The arrangement forced upon him by her father revolved around his thoughts, an ever recurring reminder that he can't preserve this. He can't keep this happiness anymore. He can't have (y/n) any longer.

“I…” His voice trembled, cracking through the gravely undertone from his silence that day. He hesitantly turned his head to face her, though couldn't find it in himself to look up at her.

He was a coward, he knew this. Everything in this situation only further proved this revelation of his. He was a coward, and even if he did choose the selfish route in this predicament, in what world did he even deserve (y/n) in the first place?

He gulped, breath shaky as he finally dared a glance her way. As always, the (y/n) before him was as lovely as ever. Eyes remaining on him, an edge of concern in her furrowed brows. Her hand in his continued to soothingly stroke his skin, comforting him for as long as he needed. Averting his eyes once more, he felt his body tremble with wrought emotion, knowing what was to come, yet attempting to delay it.

He truly didn't deserve (y/n).

“I think we should break up,” he finally spoke, voice weak, forced out in a broken whisper.

Silence settled over them, the radiator persisting with its low hum, yet this time, it couldn't mask the heavy tension slowly accumulating in the room. Wonwoo’s body seemed to vibrate with the effort exerted in detaining himself, preventing him from retracting his words, reaching out to (y/n) and apologizing for ever even amusing such an outlandish idea. But he remained as is, nervously scratching at the rough material of his jean clad legs, torturously waiting for a response from (y/n).

The silence he met was perhaps the most harrowing response he could've received, not having the slightest clue of what could be going through her head, especially since his eyes refused to stray her way. Though he could feel her gaze upon him, and it killed him inside. Completely and utterly at a loss for himself with only the fleeting strength he'd managed to scrape up to preserve the facade of monotony across his countenance.

“Break up?” She asked, the only words she could muster with his sudden proposition. Her voice was once more soft, though instead of the comforting lull it usually carried, it seemed weak almost. Barely able to slip past her lips, barely loud enough for Wonwoo himself to hear. His heart clenched upon itself at the sound of those words coming from her, as if a taboo phrase never meant to be uttered by either of them. And the realization that the two have both broken that unspoken promise made the situation all the more real. “Why?”

Why?

It was a simple question. Inevitable, even. But somehow it threw Wonwoo for a loop. He couldn't just outright expose her family for what they were, more specifically that of her father. It wasn't his place. And he wouldn't dare place that burden upon her. It was why he was deciding to break up with her now. He just couldn't say that to her directly…

“I…” He paused to clear his throat, averting his gaze to his lap now, perhaps his one safe haven in a room which reminded him of (y/n) far too much.

Every memory they ever made together. Where they first said I love you, where they shared countless meals together, where she'd fall asleep unknowingly in his arms and heal his soul with her presence alone. Every hug and every kiss, every loving word and tender touch. Their milestones, their fights, their heart to hearts. Every aspect of their relationship is imprinted upon the aspects of his apartment, like a time capsule commemorating the moments they shared together.

“I don't think… we're a good match…”

“Why?” This why came much faster than the previous one, and Wonwoo found himself momentarily floundering upon the realization that this would result in a back and forth with which he'd have to give her a proper reason for giving up on their relationship.

“I don't want to hold you back.”

“Hold me back?” She questioned. “Where would you have gotten that assumption from? In what ways are you holding me back?”

At the sound of her frustrated tone, Wonwoo gave in and finally met her gaze. Though her voice wavered with restrained disappointment, her eyes betrayed her motive, watering as she finally met Wonwoo's own conflicted stare.

“I mean… You're you… and I'm me. You have your life and I have mine. And I don't…” He paused once more, swallowing down the lump in his throat to continue. “You have your friends, your family, and—”

“My family?” She asked, drowning in confusion at his utterance. “What about my family? Did something happen?”

Wonwoo sat there for a moment, panic broiling within him. An opportunity presenting itself. His final chance to back out.

Either he confesses to everything. Tells her how her father pulled him aside on purpose so he would be the one to decide, in order to save face with his own daughter. Tells her how she would be forced to start anew in life if she were to stay with him. Cut off from everything she'd ever known in life. Money, family, businesses, properties. All of it no longer at her disposal. Merely as a consequence for choosing him at the end of the day.

Or he continues with his initial goal in mind. Revoking her right to decide merely because it was too tasking of a decision to make for him, let alone for her. Force her to live in blissful ignorance alongside her family, abandon Wonwoo and the life they built together, allow her to continue with the way of life she'd grown so accustomed to.

Could she handle the pressures of starting adulthood from scratch? With her only resources being Wonwoo and whatever he was capable of giving to her? Could she handle the debilitating trauma of being disowned and banished by the people who raised her? Merely to stay with him? Was he even worth such a grand decision?

Perhaps deep down, Wonwoo actually feared what her answer would be. Because there was always a high probability she'd choose her family and her comfortable life over him and their relationship. Perhaps that's why he felt the need to make the decision on his own. Perhaps that's why he chose to punish himself rather than to let her do it for him. Perhaps that's why he suddenly found himself spewing whatever nonsense his jumbled mind could conjure to complete this objective.

“This has nothing to do with your family.” (y/n) quieted down at the sudden resolve in Wonwoo’s tone, and Wonwoo himself was shocked to find how steady his voice had become in a mere few seconds passed. “It has everything to do with the fact that we are just not compatible.”

“Not compatible…” (y/n) repeated in awe, words mumbled as she attempted to process what he said to her.

“You come from an affluent background, so it was already a given we'd find differences in the way we perceived the world and engage in it. Your terms of spending and saving differ vastly to my own. Though you may seem indifferent to the way I live my life, I am not in regards to your own.” His words sounded almost rehearsed with the way he spoke in such a steady and monotonous manner. One brief glance towards (y/n) only served to validate his own observations of himself, and he quickly averted his gaze once more lest the unbridled emotion enshrouding her eyes tempt him into retreat. “With the obvious aside, I find myself struggling to find meaning in this relationship that we've somehow stumbled our way into.” He paused to gather his bearings, taking as discrete an inhale as he could to try and quell the nerves firing within him. “I find you clingy in that you've occupied my apartment for weeks at a time and have essentially weaseled your way into my living space. I think you're immature in the way you spend your money, but also shameless as you also attempt to monitor my own finances. You're sheltered and you don't understand the real world, including my own and all those around us. You—”

A swift slap across his face halted Wonwoo from proceeding. It hadn't hurt him in any physical way, merely resulting in the combination of silencing him, turning his head in another direction, and perhaps a slight sting at most. Though what truly struck at Wonwoo's heartstrings was the sharp gasp that followed the initial impact, and in his peripheral vision he could see (y/n) grasping the hand that had slapped him, as if offended by her own action.

He took the suddenness of the situation to gather himself once more, regaining his composure to the best of his abilities before slowly turning to meet (y/n).

His breath had become shaky upon the sight of her. Tears streaming down her face, hands clamped over her mouth in a feeble attempt to silence the sobs bubbling out of her. Her body trembled with the whirlwind of emotions broiling within her, and Wonwoo could see it all as clear as ever. Shock that she'd ever strike Wonwoo in such a way, never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned inflicting any harm to him. Confusion, seemingly in reference to both the slap that catapulted them into this moment of silence though also to the events which had led up to it. Desperation, as if wanting it all to end, not wanting to experience another moment of this ordeal, hoping it would all end soon, or even better if it would have never even happened in the first place. Though the most overwhelming emotion riddled all through her tear ridden gaze was that of despair. Because no matter how much she reflected upon herself and Wonwoo, no matter how much she prayed that this was all a sick figment of her imagination, there was no denying that what had transpired was in fact very real, and unchanging. Wonwoo said what he said, and as the silence grew longer and longer, it was clear there was no chance of him denying his words.

He inhaled shakily, at this point fully rendering the permanence of this situation, and thus allowing himself to momentarily falter in his stoicism.

“Must I continue?”

The next few seconds felt like a blur. One moment he was staring at (y/n), eyes darting to every feature he could, memorizing the curves and lines of her face, imprinting the image into his mind. Allowing himself to admire her one last time in person, even if the image before him would forever haunt his dreams. Every time he'll think back to her, he'll be met with the cruel reality that he allowed her to leave his side for the final time as a broken, defeated woman. Though perhaps it was what he deserved. To be forever reminded of his transgressions, and to forever reflect on what he's done to the one he loves.

Though this hadn't lasted long, for in the next moment, she was quickly rising from the couch and away from him. He sat still, unmoving as he listened to the raucous behind him. Her grabbing her things from the counter, sliding her shoes back on, and then the opening and closing of the door.

What he hadn't heard was the lock behind her, a telltale sign that the one thing she made sure to leave behind was the extra set of keys he had given to her. And at that point, alone in his apartment with the lone hum of the radiator to accompany him, he allowed himself to finally let go, releasing the broken sobs that he'd tried so desperately to restrain whilst in her presence. His cries wracked through his body, loud and pained with reckless abandon. His body gave up, caving in on himself and collapsing onto the floor, barely even strong enough to catch himself before he had curled into the cold, unforgiving hardwood floor.

Once more, time felt more a construct than ever before, for he hadn't any idea the duration of time he spent there, grieving for what he had lost. The pit in his stomach grew cavernous, churning with the absolute nothingness now occupying his insides. Despair consumed his being, imbibed in every fiber of his person, ensuring there wasn't a single remnant of the joy (y/n) had once instilled into him. Regret coincided with his downfall, memories of what once was now being met with memories of what had just occurred. Images of (y/n) smiling at him collided violently with images of her final mortified expression, alongside the onslaught of tears staining her face that he had been the cause of. Though the one all encompassing emotion that overrode everything else was that of pain. Pain riddled his entire body, clawing away at him, scarring him forever. This overwhelming emotion that burrowed into his soul and demanded his attention. He felt it in his gut, his chest, his head, though it soon bled to every square inch of his body, reminding him that it wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

Days had gone by since the break up, and Wonwoo found himself once more sitting at his couch, staring at his ceiling, listening to the radiator hum away. It was sickening to him how time continued to march by, not sparing him even a moment to recover from the plight he'd gotten himself into. Time continued, and so did life. The mundane routine he had made for himself returned like clockwork. Bartending throughout the week before returning home. Though even if he had lived through life like this for longer than he could recall, the now apparent emptiness of it all lingered tauntingly before him.

The lack of shoes to greet him when he'd return home to toe off his own. The silent kitchen as he cooked for one. The TV had remained off ever since, and instead he spent most of his spare time in front of his monitor playing games in hopes of it distracting him from the loneliness now consuming his life.

This was the first day he actually decided to sit on the couch since. The first day he sat in front of the TV, albeit with the screen still completely black. The first day he allowed himself to try and confront what had happened.

His head lolled to the side where (y/n) last sat, and in his self deluded mind, he could practically see the manifested image of her beside him. The clear image of what she looked like that day still fresh in his mind. Though the longer he recalled, the more he could remember of (y/n).

He could still feel the touch of her lips upon his own, her breath hitting the shell of his ear as she whispered sweet nothings to him, the warmth she'd radiate as she cradled him against her. The memories of her felt not only alive with the surroundings of his apartment where they lived together, but also forever imprinted on his person alone.

Weakly, he pulled himself forward, leant against his knees as he attempted to ground himself back to reality. As sweet and oftentimes bitter the memories were to him, they served no purpose other than tormenting him. He needed to move on first before he could think back fondly at what they once had. Though it was always easier said than done.

His hand swiped down his face, rubbing away the exhaustion from his eyes as he reached for the mail he had haphazardly tossed onto his coffee table.

Flipping through the stack, he was met with his usual itinerary of garbage and junk mail. Though one crisp envelope captured his attention. Unmarked, though from the quality alone, Wonwoo could tell it held some significance to it.

Mindlessly, he tore open the letter and extracted the singular sheet of paper within. An unmarked check, signed by none other than (y/n)’s father with only one remark written on it.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

♗ (a/n): hello! this was my first request and also my first like pure angst fic! I do feel really bad for having suddenly dropped off the face of the earth for a good two months, so I hope this is okay. I had fun writing! I mostly sat there reflecting on some psychology 101 type of ethics lol.

[tsunami-of-tears]

Draw me like one of your fae girls

Feyre x Reader (sapphic)

A/N: okay I may have plotted too hard before the porn

Thank you so much to ✨ anon who sent this request in. I’ve diverged a little bit, but most of your points are covered 💛

Wordcount: 2.4K

Warnings: Female reader; we have a little bit of angst/pining; smut (oral - f!receiving, fingering, soft d/s, mommy kink)

The rushing of the Sidra, a crisp breeze rustling through the trees, the soft tap of footsteps on the cobblestone streets, people laughing and chattering as they mill about. Velaris, the city for the dreamers. 

I meander through the artist’s quarter, arms full of my new supplies. A big gust of wind blows down the street and I spin to shield my face, clutching the bundle close to my chest. As I turn, a sign comes into view: 

“Help wanted. Any artistic experience is desirable. Enquire within.”

What are the chances? I’ve been looking for a new job, and being surrounded by art all day sounds like a dream come true. I shift my supplies into one arm and open the door. 

Inside the studio is bright and welcoming. Easels line the room, some holding paintings in various stages of completion. The walls are scattered with artwork, all portraying different subjects– flowers in vases, scenes of restaurants by the Sidra, a boy throwing a ball in the park– all breathing life into the space. Vibrant, joyous life. 

A high-fae female stands behind one of the easels, she has smears of yellow paint on her cheek and smock. Her grey-blue eyes are narrowed in concentration and waves of gold are tied messily in a bun on her head. She bites on her lower lip as she continues painting, her nose scrunching ever so slightly. 

She is captivating. 

She looks up from her work, finally noticing my presence in the room. 

“Oh hello there. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in. My name is Feyre,” she smiles warmly at me before setting down her brush and palette. She wipes her hands on her smock, though it doesn’t help much. 

“It’s okay, I just got here. I’m Y/N, I saw your sign outside.” I return Feyre’s smile, and gesture to the door behind me. 

“That didn’t take long,” she laughs. “I put that sign up an hour ago. You’re an artist?”

“Yes, I paint and draw, but my preferred medium is ceramics. I like using my hands.” 

“We have that in common,” she says, her smile turning slightly playful. “I’m looking for someone to assist during classes. It’s gotten so busy, which is wonderful, but my attention is stretched too thin. Do you think that’s something you’re interested in?” 

I nod eagerly, “Absolutely. It’s my dream to be surrounded by art all day. Would you like to see some of my work? The sculptures are difficult to transport but I can deliver some of my sketchbooks.”

“I’d love to, but it’s not required for the position. How soon can you start?” 

I blink a few times, repeating her words in my head to make sure I heard Feyre correctly. “Does next week work?”

———— 

I’m unpacking the fired pottery from the kiln a few months later. Feyre had bought it soon after I started working for her. With her blessing, I’d begun teaching ceramics classes. This last batch was from my regular students who attend once a week.

I’m holding the last piece when Feyre enters. “Wow, these are amazing. You’re doing so well with the students,” she beams. 

“It’s all them,” I respond, setting down the pot carefully.

“Don’t do that,” Feyre tuts. “You’re a great teacher and I’m thrilled to have you working with me.” 

“Thanks, Feyre. I really love it. It’s so rewarding.”

“I’m still waiting on my personal lesson though,” she laughs. “Are you still up for drinks tonight?”

“Definitely. I just need to reload the kiln, the next batch should be dry enough.” 

———— 

Feyre and I walked to the bar arm-in-arm, already giggling at each other and we hadn’t started drinking yet. Since I joined Feyre’s studio, we’ve developed a close friendship, though a small piece of my heart yearns for more. 

She’s mated, I remind myself for the hundredth time. 

As we enter the dimly lit bar, Ressina spots us, calling us over to her booth. I take a seat next to another instructor, Coral, and Feyre slides in beside me. Across from us sits Ressina and her partner, Pollux. 

Ressina had bought a round of drinks for our group just before we arrived. We raise our glasses, clinking them together in cheers before taking a sip. 

“Coral was just telling us about her hot date last night,” Ressina explains. 

“Don’t sound so excited,” Pollux says sarcastically. 

“Oh it’s just fun, we have to live vicariously through our single friends. Feyre gets it, right?” Ressina gestures vigorously towards Feyre.

“Oh actually,” Feyre says, “I might be back on the market.” She takes a casual sip from her drink, as if she had just said the most mundane sentence in the world. 

My jaw drops and my eyes widen in alarm. Across the table, our friends are sporting similar expressions. No one saw that coming. 

“Oh no, not like that!” She quickly reassures us. “Rhys and I are quite happy, we’re just finding it a bit… stagnant. We’ve discussed it at length, and have decided to open our marriage one weekend every month.” 

“Wow Feyre,” Coral says. “Are you and Rhys equally excited about that?” 

Feyre smiles, looking down at her glass, the flush on her cheeks deepening in colour. “We’ve both got different reasons for wanting it but yes, we are. I’ve had my eye on someone,” Feyre’s gaze meets mine for a split second, “and Rhys knew that. It took a lot of conversations to figure out our boundaries, and they’ll likely evolve over time, but we’re taking the first step.” 

“Well congratulations,” Pollux says, raising his glass before taking a swig.

“Thank you,” Feyre says, her eyes finding mine again. I can detect a hint of… longing? Surely not. This wine must be going straight to my head. 

The rest of the night goes on without a hitch. We drink and talk and dance until late into the night when we stumble out of the bar, waving goodbye to our friends who are heading in the opposite direction. Feyre’s arm is wrapped over my shoulders as I do my best to keep her upright. 

“Mmms love you, Y/N,” Feyre slurs, drawing out the syllables of my name. 

“I love you too, Fey,” I answer, quickly grabbing her forearm to stop her falling to the ground. 

“You’re the bestest,” she sighs, slumping in my arms. 

Just as I’m wondering how we’re going to walk home, the darkness in front of us ripples, revealing Feyre’s mate. 

“Feyre Darling,” Rhys coos, scooping her into his arms like she weighs nothing; a stark contrast to my earlier struggles. Feyre wraps her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. My heart constricts at the sight.

“Perfect timing,” I smile tightly in an attempt to hide my true feelings. 

“The bond was muffled and I got worried, though I now understand why,” Rhys explains. 

Right, the bond. 

“You must be Y/N,” Rhys continues. “She talks about you often.” He smiles, looking down at the female cradled in his arms. “Thank you for taking care of her, do you need to be dropped home?” 

“No, thank you. The walk will sober me up.”

“Of course, I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point. Goodnight, Y/N.” Rhys inclines his head before disappearing into the night with Feyre safely in his arms. 

The walk home certainly was sobering. How could I be silly enough to believe she thought of me in any light other than as a friend? Surely she meant she was opening her marriage to other males. Not me.

———— 

A few weeks after our night out, I’ve finally given in to teaching Feyre how to use a pottery wheel. She’d been gushing over my latest collection all week - a series of vases celebrating the divine feminine, the Mother. She was dying to get her hands dirty, quite literally. 

The reason I was hesitant to teach Feyre wasn’t because of her artistic talents. No, I hadn’t stopped thinking about her confession. I hadn’t stopped hoping she meant me.

Feyre is perched on a stool across from me, the pottery wheel in between us with a lump of earthenware clay. Feyre had quickly picked up how to work the peddle, now she just needed to use her hands to shape the clay.

She put her fingers into the centre of the ball like I demonstrated, easing the sides outwards as it spins. As she concentrates, her nose scrunches up and she bites her lip. It’s the same face she always makes when she’s engrossed in creating something. 

“It keeps getting wider, how do I make it go back in again?” Feyre asks. 

“Here,” I put my wet hands on top of Feyre’s, helping her ease the clay in the direction she wanted. “Perfect,” I smile. Feyre looks up from her work to smile back at me. With her focus shifted, her foot slips and the wheel spins out, spraying both of us with muddy water. We both erupt in giggles as we look at the mess covering each other. 

“And I thought painting was a messy hobby,” Feyre laughs. 

———— 

Feyre finished her creation - a simple round vase that she has plans to paint once it’s fired. 

The two of us are cleaning up our tools and hands in the large basin. The laughter from earlier is gone,  leaving us with a comfortable silence. 

Feyre sighs, “It’s the last weekend of the month.”

“I do have a calendar,” I tease. 

“No I mean, it’s the weekend Rhys and I decided on.”

“Oh,” I say quietly. “Do you have anything planned?” 

“I have someone I’d like to ask, but I’ve been a bit worried about how they’ll react,” Feyre admits. 

My heart breaks a little bit at her admission. “You do not need to be worried, you’re gorgeous. I doubt anyone could reject you.”

“I guess,” Feyre sighs.

The silence has now grown deafening between you. 

Finally, Feyre breaks it. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks. 

“Hey, I thought we were talking about you here!” I exclaim. 

“We still are. I was hoping you’d like to join me.”

Oh. 

OH.

Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I know my mouth has fallen open. 

I look down, unable to meet her gaze as my heart races, the sound pounding in my ears.  “Yeah, I would like that,” I respond. 

———— 

Kissing Feyre was everything. 

Soft lips against mine. Soft hair between my fingers. 

Her scent is dizzying. 

This kiss is all-consuming. 

Every thought, every touch, it’s all her. 

Slowly, her hands slip down my body. Brushing down my neck, grazing over my breasts. 

We’re in her townhouse. I’m lying on the couch with Feyre on top of me, her thighs on either side of my hips. 

We barely made it through the front door before our hands and lips were all over each other. 

Feyre sits up, panting as she regains her breath. She peels off her top, throwing it to the side before doing the same with mine. 

“I can’t believe you asked,” I say, propping myself up on my elbows.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” she retorts, leaning down to kiss me again. 

Feyre kisses down my exposed neck, teasing along my collarbone, surely littering my skin with marks. 

She keeps kissing lower, taking one of my hardened nipples into her mouth and sucking. She takes the other between her thumb and finger, pinching softly. I gasp at the sensation, my hips roll, desperately begging for more.

Feyre hums against my chest, nipple still in her mouth as she grazes it with her teeth, eliciting another gasp from me. 

“You make such pretty sounds,” she says, swinging her leg over my body to stand on the floor. Feyre extends her hand for me to take. “Let’s go somewhere with more room, I want to explore every inch of you.” 

I take her hand, following her upstairs to the bedroom. 

We remove the rest of our clothes before Feyre motions for me to lie in the centre of the wide bed. She crawls between my legs, her face hovering centimetres above mine, her hand gentle against my cheek. 

Feyre leans down to kiss me again. Each stroke of her tongue is intentional. 

I wonder what that tongue would feel like in other places. 

I’m not left wondering for long as Feyre moves down my body. She pauses above my exposed sex, stroking down the outside of my thighs. 

“So pretty,” she says. “May I?” 

“Please,” I moan. 

“Such good manners too baby,” Feyre purrs, dipping her head between my legs.

She starts slow, lapping at me like a cat laps at milk. 

My hips start rolling and she presses them down firmly. 

“So responsive,” she laughs and I whine at the loss of contact. 

Feyre goes in with her fingers next, softly tracing along my clit at an agonising pace. 

I moan as the strokes turn to circles, giving me even more friction. My eyes close, allowing my body to focus on the feeling. 

“I like that noise,” she says, “but what sound do you make when I do this–” Her fingers slide down inside me and she starts to fuck me slowly. My moans get even louder as she starts to curl her fingers, hitting my sweet spot. I writhe beneath her fingers and she starts to pick up her pace. 

“You’re doing so good baby, tell Mommy how good it feels,” Feyre says, lowering her mouth to my clit once again. 

“Mmmm Mommy, feels so good. Mm so close.” I babble, eyes rolling as Feyre’s tongue circles my clit in tandem with her fingers. 

“Cum for me baby,” Feyre says, her fingers keeping their steady pace. 

A few more hard thrusts are all it takes to send me barrelling over the edge, crying out as the waves of pleasure roll over me. 

“Such a good girl,” Feyre says, slowing her thrusts as I ride out the high. 

My body stills as Feyre crawls beside me, wrapping her arms around me. She softly kisses the top of my head as I sigh contentedly. 

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asks. 

“Phenomenal.” 

Feyre laughs at my answer. “Are you tired, or do you want to keep going?” she questions.  

“I’m not even close to being done, it’s your turn.”

“Well then, come here and show Mommy some appreciation.” 

“Gladly.”

[kitten4sannie]

23 - ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ/ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ - ꜱᴀɴ

ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ

pairing: business man! san x stripper! reader (fem)

summary: san finds himself visiting his favorite dancer instead of going back home to his wife.

w.c: 3k

warnings: alcohol use, san and reader are both a mess, sub! leaning san, dom leaning! reader, cheating, lap dance, grinding, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: shoutout to the anon for giving me this idea by sharing this vid whewwwwww this is for you <3 also i struggled sm trying to explain what she was doing on the pole im so sorry loll

btw some song recs would be fwm by tone stith, me by summer walker, lavender sunflower by tory lanez, and the weekend by sza

FFF Masterlist

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Sitting in an almost-empty office, San stared blankly at the monitor in front of him, knowing he finished his work early but finding himself reluctant to pack up and go home. Why wouldn't he want to go home? He had a beautiful wife waiting for him, who was probably pulling something yummy out of the oven. Maybe she was even wearing a cute little apron, hoping he would come home and see her in it. Yet, he found himself thinking about the dancer he met a few months ago at the gentlemen's club just around the corner from his work. There was even an ATM right outside of it, just asking him to take out hundreds of dollars and spend it all on her.

"Hey, San," his coworker said, putting his hands on San's tense shoulders and patting them, noticing that he had shut his computer down and was putting some files away into his suitcase. "Heading home?"

San stood up and slicked his hair back, allowing a few strands to fall onto his forehead. "Yep," he replied shortly, giving the man a polite smile and walking past him, hoping he couldn't somehow tell that he was about to cheat. Well, it wasn't technically cheating, right? It was pretty much the same thing as looking at those certain magazines that they sold at gas stations, but just in real life. It’s not like he was sleeping with you. He still loved his wife. He did. He really did. He just needed to see you one more time. After this, he was done. He was certain of it.

"Are you coming in or not?" the oversized bouncer asked in a deep voice, looking at the anxious, sweating businessman idly standing in front of the open club door with a thousand dollars just sitting inside his black tailored pants.

Fixing his glasses out of habit, he let out a nervous laugh, nodding his head. "Yep, I'm coming in. Uh, have a good night." He gave the man a weak wave and shuffled past him, making his way through the long hallway past some patrons and a few dancers. When San made it into the main room, he was immediately bathed in crimson lighting, dark and seductive, like he had stepped foot into hell. He might as well have. He was ready to sin.

After he was done taking in his surroundings, he headed to the bar and sat down at the seat that had the best view of the main stage. "Your usual, Mr. Choi?" the bartender asked, wiping a pint glass with a rag, noticing how San simply sat still on his stool and scanned the various platforms on the other side of the room.

You weren't anywhere to be seen. Would you be coming out soon? You always worked on Friday nights. Maybe you were in the back getting ready. Probably putting some glitter on your eyelids and drawing a tiny heart near your cheek with some eyeliner. It was the cutest thing. You were always so cute, like a pretty little angel. Yet, when you got on stage, you would always give him this look. Like you were picturing all the things he could do to you, and all the things you could do to him, maybe even right there where everyone could watch. That’s when you reminded him that you were actually sin incarnate. But he knew that already. And he didn't mind.

"Mr. Choi?" the man tried again, holding out a glass filled with ice, tea, and various amounts of alcohol. "Your long island ice tea."

San snapped his head back towards the man, taking the glass and nodding his head. "Thanks, man." He brought the straw up to his lips and sucked the drink down, delighted that it got rid of the remaining guilt he felt, idly glancing around the room again, this time scanning the various men sitting in their seats, some with a dancer in their lap. None of them were you.

The bartender shook his head, leaning his forearms on the table below. "Are you waiting for Angel to come out, Mr. Choi?"

Halfway through his drink, San choked on some of the liquid, swallowing it down anyway and clearing his throat. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he faced the man again, a slight frown forming. "Am I that obvious?"

The man smiled to himself, glancing over to the main stage entrance, knowing you would be coming out soon. "She talks about you a lot, you know. She's constantly asking when we think you'll come back."

This was news to him. Sure, you were always friendly and flirty with him. Always referring to him as "Mr. Business Man" or "Sannie." The second was his favorite. It always made him melt. His wife wouldn't even call him that anymore. Said it was childish. Though, when you said it, with that coy look on your face and batting your long eyelashes at him, the only thoughts he had were inexplicably adult. Maybe you were into him. You. His angel. That changed things. And at this point, he was already in too deep, so why not get buried?

"What does she say about me?" San probed, drinking the rest of the tea down until he was sucking on the ice at the bottom of the glass. Warmth flooded his brain and body, encouraging him to unbutton his black blazer and pull it off. As he carefully draped it over the bar counter, everything around him began slowing down to a crawl.

"That you're her favorite," the man replied softly, idly glancing at the silver ring San was wearing on his ring finger, then walking over to serve another customer. It wasn't any of his business. He was just a bartender. He tapped the table near San, motioning his head to the main stage. "She's on, by the way."

Spinning around in his seat, San felt like all the air inside his lungs suddenly dissipated. His reddened eyes focused on your curvy figure appearing out of the darkness of the stage entrance, his eyes traveling along your almost naked body. You were wearing a matching set like you always did. This time, you were wearing a tiny black latex bra, the nonexistent cups barely covering your nipples, your tits practically spilling out of them. He gulped so hard, he almost swallowed his Adam's apple by accident. An equally black, equally nonexistent thong clung tightly to your hips and pelvis, one micro-movement away from having everyone see your pretty pink–

"Pussy," said a random drunk man sitting next to San, throwing back a shot of vodka. When San gave him a dirty look, the man shook his head. "Don't just stare at her, bro. Go sit in that chair over there and let her know you like her. Trust me. Angel's worth it."

Turning away form the guy in silence, San undid his tie and laid it over his jacket, trusting that the bartender would look after it for him. Putting the image of his wife sitting at the empty dinner table by herself, San quickly made his way past a few tables and booths, eventually sitting down in the empty seat near the front section of the stage.

Taking a few drawn out steps around the pole, you ran a hand up your body, your hips swaying along to the slow, thumping beats of the song playing through the surrounding speakers. Like a snake hypnotizing its prey before striking. Once you grabbed the pole and moved your body in a slow wavelike motion, you turned around and leaned your body back against it, gazing down at your favorite businessman. Your eyes surveyed his lap, wondering if the visible tent in his work pants was a stack of cash or his hard cock. Either was fine with you.

"Angel..." San murmured to himself, unconsciously spreading his thick thighs apart, hoping you could read his lips. He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling some of the cash into his tense hand.

Once the song picked up a bit, the bass still so intense it vibrated through your chest, you propelled yourself forward and climbed onto the pole like it was second nature, hooking one of your legs onto it, moving around the pole in steady circles. Sighing, you slid a hand up from your abdomen, up and over one of your tits, then up your neck. Everyone's eyes were on you, though you couldn't blame them. You were the true embodiment of desire. The angel that everyone wanted to defile and keep for themselves. Yet, they had no idea that you were the one who did the defiling, the corrupting, the owning. And your current target was…

"San," you whispered, running your tongue along the inside of your glossy lips, gripping the pole tight enough with one hand so that you could lean your head back. Amused by the businessman's submissive demeanor after eyeing the growing tent inside his pants, you squeezed the metal securely between your thighs, allowing you to release your hands from it and hang more upside down, slipping your fingers up underneath your bra to grab at your tits, pulling a bit on your nipple piercings for your own pleasure. You continued to spin around the pole in slow circles, the monochrome lights flashing above the stage further enhancing the hypnotic show you were putting on.

One of the men stood up and sent a stack of cash into the air, watching it rain down around you. You smiled to yourself, sitting back up to hold the pole both in front of your chest and one below near your lower abdomen, making sure you were stable. You lifted yourself up into an upside down vertical position and clenched your legs around the pole before slowly spreading them, appearing like you were doing a full split in the air. Another man followed the actions of the first, pulling some twenties out of his pocket and sending them out into the air, his hooded eyes locked on the way your ass was eating up the thin strap of your thong. All these men were like putty in your hands. Ready to give up most of their paychecks, all for the slim chance that they could fuck you for real. It was pathetic.

When the song came to a drop, you slid yourself down the bottom of the pole, slowly lowering yourself onto the cool stage in the splits, arching your back, your hands groping along your body, squeezing your tits and letting out a soft moan, though no one could hear you over the loud bass on the song. You looked up over at San, licking your lips, before you got onto your knees and crawled towards him, your heavy heels clinking against the stage with each deliberate movement. Gazing at him like a predator cornering their next meal, you eventually got to the edge of the stage and slowly sat back on your knees, running your hands slowly up your body, slowly leaning your head back and arching your back again.

Drunk with lust and alcohol, San couldn't help but readjust himself in the leather chair, the pulsing beats of the song emanating heavily inside his ears, a similar pulsing occurring below the belt. Swallowing down his nerves, he pulled a few hundreds out, waiting for you to look at him, before he leaned forward and sent them out onto the stage in front of you.

Licking your lips at the money spread out below you, your fingers snuck up to the front of your bra and popped it up, your tits dropping out of it. The men around all emitted various low sounding groans, some of them palming themselves or sliding down in their seats. San was in a similar state of desperation, his cock so hard it was about to burst out of his pants.

When the music played the sound of a woman’s moans playing alongside pulsing, synth like music, encouraging you to begin moving your hips in an up and down motion, as though you were riding an imaginary dick, making San and everyone else in the room wish it were his. You kept your eyes on the struggling businessman, grabbing at your tits, moaning softly, your eyebrows drawing together.

Not able to take it any longer, San held out three hundreds and placed it down on his crotch in between his large thighs, spreading them apart to entice you.

Drawing you in like a moth to a flame, you found yourself climbing off of the stage as elegantly as possible and taking a step up to the large leather chair he was lounging in. Once you got off, another dancer walked up to the pole to take your place, distracting all the surrounding patrons.

Straddling San’s lap once he picked the bills up, you leaned into his ear to purr, “Sannie, it’s so nice to see you back. I’ve missed you.”

San angled his head up, trying to keep his eyes on your hooded ones instead of staring at your tits that were just below his chin. “I’ve missed you more, Angel.” He reached down to slide a hundred through the strap on your hip, continuing, “I’d like a private show. I have a lot more love to give you.”

Smiling down at the hundred-dollar bill, you sat fully down on his lap, feeling his hard on pressing into your latex panties. “You always give me lots of love, Sannie. Should we go then?”

San slipped the other two hundreds into the other strap, groaning when you dragged your clothed pussy across his length. Biting at his bottom lip, he sent a suggestive smile in your direction. “Lead the way, Angel.”

-

In one of the small dimly lit private rooms, you hovered over San’s lap, your knees pressed into the leather couch on each side of his thighs, gyrating your hips along to the slow, pulsing music. “What’s with that look, baby?” you asked softly, running your hands down the front of San’s chest.

“You’re just so…beautiful.” He couldn’t keep his eyes off of your body, especially your tits, because they were covered in…Was that body glitter? As if you could get any hotter. He was losing his mind.

“Yeah?” you started, watching as the businessman put more cash into the straps of your nylon panties, until there were no more spaces left. “You like me better than your wife, don’t you? Is that why you’re always here and spending money on me instead of her?”

“Mm-hmm, I like you a lot, Angel,” San sighed softly, his hands roaming around the outline of your body, but not touching you.

Arching your back, your hands rested on the top of the couch behind San’s head, slowly moving your body in a slow, but fluid motion on his lap, your cunt brushing across his heavy cock still trapped inside the waistband of his pants. “If you like me so much, then touch me. Fuck me. Make me yours, Sannie.”

-

Entranced. Mesmerized. Seduced. Those were only a few words to describe what came over him while he was inside you, his hands all over your body, getting glitter all over himself. San didn't understand how a single person could have such a hold over him. He never experienced anything like this, and he couldn’t pull himself out of it.

Bouncing up and down on San’s length like it was your life’s mission, you wrapped your fingers around his jaw on either side, bringing his mouth towards your tits. “Suck on them, Sannie. Bite them. Spit on them. Do whatever your wife won’t let you do.”

Completely gone at this point, his cock throbbing heavily inside you, San slurped your tits up into his mouth, one at a time, biting and tugging at your nipple piercings, pulling away every so often to spit on them and watch it drip down your glittery skin. “You’re so dirty, Angel,” he huffed, squeezing your hips tightly, his ring cold against your hot body.

“Not dirty enough,” you complained, in between pants, gripping his shoulders tightly, trying to bring yourself to your peak as fast as possible. “Cum inside me, Sannie. Please.”

“Oh, fuck, Angel, I don’t think…” San gasped, losing his train of thought, as your glossy lips attached to his neck, sucking and licking, leaving a mark on him. He knew he would have to cover it up with makeup later on. “I shouldn’t…”

Tempting him further, you moved your body at a slower, more deliberate pace, wanting to draw the sin out of him. “Cum, baby, come on,” you purred into his ear, nipping and pulling at it with your teeth. “I know she never lets you cum inside, so fill me up instead…Please, Sannie…Please give it to me.”

Truly, you were an angel in every sense of the word, even letting a cheating stranger like him fill you up with his seed. How gracious of you.

“Fuck, okay, I’m–aaah–” San jerked his head back, holding onto your waist for dear life, feeling your cunt tighten around him like a vice. “Jesus, Angel, you're…oh my god.”

“What, Sannie?” you whispered near his lips, bringing yourself down onto him one last time, your body shuddering, your arousal pouring out of you and staining his work pants. “Does it feel better to fuck me than your wife? Is that it?”

“Yeah, it does. So much better.” San looked down at your lower half, his mouth hanging open, a bit of saliva dripping past his lips as his cock shot out rope after rope into your slick hole. He wished he could see it pouring into you, wanting to witness the mark he left inside your body.

You let out a satisfied sigh, lifting yourself up from his lap and collecting the bills he offered you, putting them into a neat stack. “I thought so.” Smirking to yourself, you lifted one leg up onto the couch, allowing San to watch as his load dripped out of your pulsing cunt and down your inner leg. “So, will you be coming back next Friday too, Sannie? I’ll have a new routine ready just for you~”

San simply sat there and watched the milky liquid drip down onto his stained tailored pants, knowing there was no way he’d be able to escape your angelic clutches after this. But he still loved his wife. He did. He really did. He just needed to see you a few more times. After that, he would be done.

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FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner@dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© toxicccred, 2023.

[nyxmainex]

I finished it guys. I finished them. IN A DAY.

Be it, they are VERY rushed and look as such, but I AM PROUD OF MYSELF FOR ONCE.

@velnna @bara-izu @necromosss

Fanart for your characters.

(Warnings: Me rambling)

If any of the artist I made this for see this, I hope you like it even maybe a portion as much as I do. Maybe more. Genuinely, each of these three artists inspire me to continue my hobby of making art. The reason I even do this hobby is to share it in hopes to inspire others. As much courage as it takes for me to even make these much less post them is just proof to myself how far I've come in terms of social interaction. I thank my friend, my mom and teacher for supporting my hobbies and specifically convincing me to make this. I'm off on a ramble, apologies.

I really do hope you like this. Each character has something I added to them, and I explain in their dedicated paragraph. Then you also get an overall part:).

MIRA ♡

Necromosss is the second BG3 artist I found on Tumblr and I adore their art. Everytime I see Moss post, I promise you I immediately spread it to my friends just so they get the recognition they deserve.

Mira was the last character I ended up drawing, and is definitely the most hurried and sloppy. I made hers pretty late, close to the time I sleep, yet I do feel proud of how I made her. Imagining Mira in the stories I've created, I believe she'd fit in with Meladonia, a kingdom of ghosts, poison, and death. Overlooking the main theme, Meladonia's queen, Chamixie (and funny enough, my character who romanced Gale), is a very lighthearted, flirty person. She, while respecting death and it's concepts, is always up to make an occasional joke. She doesn't take everything personally, and I think she'd get alone well with Mira. The Meladonia magic is dark magic known at Kalak. 'Mixie (Chamixie's nickname) created Kalak as a form of a way to express herself. Kalak magic is not negative, and it's not harmful. In fact, Kalak magic is meant to heal and embrace your fears to use positively. Most of the time, using Kalak magic causes small white, almost snake-like slits to form in the pupil of the user's eyes.

I hope you like how I drew her!:)

STAEVE ☆

MAF is the first BG3 artist I found on Tumblr. I can't put in to words how much they've inspired me. Me and my mom both love Staeve, we think he's great, and I can't wait to see more art from Velnna.

Staeve is the first character I drew, and though not as rushed as Mira's, I wasn't confident drawing him. I'm not too sure about how I drew him, though I do hope anyone reading this likes it. Much like Mira, I imagine he'd be from Meladonia if put in my stories.

In case you haven't read about Kalak magic, I'll copy it: The Meladonia magic is dark magic known at Kalak. 'Mixie (Chamixie's nickname) created Kalak as a form of a way to express herself. Kalak magic is not negative, and it's not harmful. In fact, Kalak magic is meant to heal and embrace your fears to use positively. Most of the time, using Kalak magic causes small white, almost snake-like slits to form in the pupil of the user's eyes.

I've, as an anon, told Velnna about one version of my first OC (Broodmother Nera). And she's a version of my main five characters. Her and Chamixie are sisters, four years apart (Nera is 28). Chamixie is a much more sort of flirty person and takes everything told to her with a drop of comedy, unless it's extremely serious (ex: any abuse) as she has experienced negative situations herself. I imagine that she'd want to be friends with Staeve as long as he wants to, but would likely rather protect him even if he doesn't want to be friends. Staeve reminds Chamixie of Alison, the youngest of the five sisters, and was Chamixie's previous life's bio daughter. Even if they are sisters in this life, Chamixie still, while not overprotective, is cautious around Alison. To an extent, Staeve gives off a similar vibe as Alison, and 'Mixie would do more than her best to help Staeve without being overbearing.

I hope this is interesting enough, and that you enjoy how I drew Staeve.

HALION ◇

I have so much trouble remembering how to write this lovely man's name, please correct me if it's wrong, I have terrible memory.

I recently found Bara, and I love all their characters. (No joke though, I ran to my mom to show her your characters). Halion is definitely one of my favourites.

I was the most confident creating Halion, and I genuinely am proud of my art. This is honestly one of the few times I do feel proud of myself. From the posts I read, which is not too many, I love his cheery personality. He makes me believe he'd be from Parfi if he was in my stories. Parfi is the kingdom of the Wasteland, but is known for war, previously known for lust, but after Lord Clemin became the ruler, she changed it to accommodate travellers. While it was re-built for wars, she's made it a beacon of light within a desert. That reminds me of Halion. Clemin, as a ruler, comes off as strong and demanding. But out of all five of the rulers, and as the second oldest sister, she's very soft. Even with her own insecurities, she lifts people up and encourages their positive ambitions. She's actually not very confident, even though presenting as such. Even if she is very silent, and kind of reserved, she'd feel comfortable with talking to Halion.

She created Taei magic, the magic of heat. Taei magic is considered neutral magic, and though she has used it negatively on herself, Taei was meant to be positive. Using Taei magic is essentially holding the essence of a flame, and it's a guiding light to find others. Clemin wants the people of her and her sister's kingdoms to never have to experience what any of them did/do. Using it reflects a flame in the user's eyes.

I hope you agree he'd be from Parfi, and if not, tell me why:)! I also hope you like the art I made for him.

OVERALL/EXTRA

I'm sorry this post is so long, and I wanted to be finish setting up my blog when I made this but I'm just too impatient to do so. The reason this post is so long is because while I could've made art of any artist I enjoy, these three artists inspired me the most. (And I'm an overthinker, so I want to make sure you understand how much I appreciate these artists.)

I hope you enjoy the ideas I had and the art I made. I love all three of these pieces I've made, and I love the original art that they were based on more. And if it's alright with the artists, I'd love to draw more!:)

While writing this, my hands are shaking. Ignore any mistakes in the writing.

(References)

Mira: (her Notion page)

Staeve:

This

And this

Halion:

This

This

And this

PROGRAMS USED:

Infinite painter for lineart and Clip Studio Paint (pro) for everything else.

Edit: LOOKING BACK AT THIS, IT'S SO SAPPY AND LONG I'M SORRRYYYYYY