Play With Me (Vernon/Hansol Smut)
Summary: It’s not your fault that he was just so pretty. And that he begged so prettily. And that he looked so damn pretty with a piece of leather wrapped around his throat. Why did being Seventeen’s stylist mean he was off limits? And to think, this all started on a boring night with a gifted bottle of wine a pile of jenga blocks. Smut.
(A/N: I must say that I got a little carried away. The original request from @ciels-parents did not entail anywhere near as much shit as this. But I’m pleased with the outcome. I guess the reason I added all the other stuff is because one of my favourite things about dom/sub relationships is all the pretty things, like the toys and the lingerie and shit. I could be a little just for that. But that’s waaay off topic. There’s so many warnings here; anal play, rimming mention, noona kink, sex toy(s), collaring, lingerie, subspace, praise kink, if that even counts as a warning?? but okay this is ten thousand words of impure filth so please back down if you’re not ready. I would also like to put forth now that I’m not responsible for any of the after effects of this fic, and happy valentine’s day, this is my present to you. -Tanisha<3)
You were, at best, a glorified babysitter. It was the only way to describe the current state of your job without leaving out any of the details. Somehow, you had started out as what you fully intended to be - a stylist. Straight out of high school you jumped head first into a fashion program, gaining all the sewing, finance, pattern making, fabric skills and whatever else you could have ever dreamed of.