#While ensuring it would be at the right place and time to be hit by very specific magics

[hughmanbean]

Another World

Dick had found a new indie game that had just come out, and it was pretty good. He had even gotten Tim sold on it, though that hadn't helped his sleep schedule.

It was one of those visual novels, but had really good fighting mechanics and great backgrounds and settings. The setting was really well done, with even one off characters feeling fully fleshed out.

It was a mix between romance, mystery, slice of life, and psychological horror, since you could take the romance routes or the mystery routes in any interactions, which would drastically change the rest of the gameplay.

There were many routes, and at the end you would encounter the one of or the entire Royal Family.

The High Queen, Avaricious Duke, Erratic Prince, Wandering Princess, Autumn Knight, and Advisor Time.

Depending on your choices, it could anything from a heartfelt confession, an epic battle, or the reveal of a horrid secret.

The reason why this is relevant is because they're now stuck in this game.

Not just Dick and Tim, but the rest of the family too.

[motomamita]

farmer!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, arranged marriage, breeding kink!

könig never thought that the love of his life would take so long to arrive, much less in such a small town where he lived and where everyone knew everyone. but yes, he just turned 30 he found himself totally alone, without a wife, girlfriend or even someone to fuck with without commitments.

being an only child, his parents rushed to find the right woman for him. they had to ensure that their legacy would continue and their lands would be passed down to their future grandchildren.

that's where you come in, also the only daughter of a couple of lumberjacks and with a long list of suitors. although you could choose any boy in the town, your parents quickly paired you with könig, who was the son of the wealthiest family in the place.

you didn't know könig personally but you had seen him from time to time on the streets driving his truck carrying fruits and vegetables to supply the businesses. you knew that he was older than you, not only in age but also in body. he always had a serious face and a look that forced you to lower your head because of how intimidating he was.

your families introduced you one day where they had lunch and talked about how beneficial it would be for both of you to get married. könig didn't contribute much, as he spent all that time looking at your breasts through your dress and biting his lip every time you dared to look into his eyes. neither you nor he spoke to each other.

after that, they organized a small wedding in the garden of könig's family and formalized the union between the two of you. you were now his wife and lived with him in a small house built by könig on his family land. however, the most important thing was missing, an heir.

you both knew that your families would not be calm until they saw you carrying his baby in your womb. that's why you and könig had to get closer to each other, both emotionally and physically. every time he came back from a long day of work, you would wait for him with a jug of fresh orange juice or even a beer. then you would prepare the shower for him, where könig would end up dragging you with him and you would shower together. he caressed your skin with excitement and you did the same but with a certain shyness. however, it never went any further, until now.

one afternoon you were harvesting vegetables from the garden until the presence of könig behind you caught your attention.

"it's time... for us to have a son."

könig was wearing his work shirt with a few buttons open and his blue jeans. he looked agitated, as if he needed you at that moment.

"könig... i, i don't know. i've never done it and i'm a little scared..."

you couldn't finish because könig knelt in front of you and grabbed your hips with his hands.

"please, please, let me fuck you. i can't wait any longer, my love, i need you.."

he begged with some pain in his voice, resting his head on your stomach and almost sobbing. his cock was throbbing inside his jeans and dripping with precum. your heart sank at seeing him so needy, so you accepted.

without wasting time, könig fucked you right there in his garden and on the ground, in a primitive way. your pussy took a while to get used to its size but soon the pain turned into pleasure. könig was on top of you, with your legs over his shoulders and his balls hitting your delicate skin.

"i knew this pussy was worth the wait... fuck, you're so tight."

könig kissed your legs, leaving a trace of his saliva and even lightly biting your skin, lost in pleasure. his grunts accompanied your moans and pleas for him to finish inside you as soon as possible, you were afraid that you would be discovered.

"these juicy tits, they're going to look even better when they're big and dripping with milk... are you going to carry my babies, huh? are you going to be a good mom?"

you nodded your head because your mouth couldn't let out anything but moans. könig increased his thrusts, fucking deep inside you until he filled you with his thick semen.

he gently lay down on top of you, careful not to crush you until his orgasm passed. he carefully pulled out of you, caressing your legs and putting the cum that came out back in with his fingers.

"i have to make sure it catch, mommy."

[tojicide]

SNIPER, SNIPER! ☆ LEON KENNEDY

summary. in leon’s line of work as a contract killer, weaknesses weren’t an option. luckily, he’d eliminated his… all except for one.

warnings. fem!reader, hitman!leon, ex!leon, re4 leon intended. discussion of murder, guns, bullets, etc. a loooot of blissful ignorance, porn with some plot, pet names, oral sex ( fem. receiving ), face sitting, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie. wc. 5.3k.

note. i tend to fuck up a nice “ex who is a raging munch” fic or two saurrrr this is basically my staple now

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Leon isn’t sure why he’s here.

He hasn’t ever bid on a target as sought after as the one that he has now acquired. The target was only described as someone who simply ‘knows too much’ about something they shouldn’t. Vague, he thinks, especially because they remained nameless, genderless, and description-less otherwise. It was odd, for sure, but it was the highest contract that he had ever come by.

As a matter of fact, he’s positive that it’s the highest contract that anyone in his position has ever seen, let alone signed. He’s sure that he’s ruffled a bit of feathers by taking on the job, especially considering that he was still considered fresh meat among the other hitmen that he was distantly familiar with.

Leon preferred to stay out of the unusual politics that came with the underground world, and that meant taking on the jobs that no one deemed urgent enough to complete.

(Plenty of drug dealers, a few sketchy nightclub owners, and an awful bunch of politicians who he is 99% sure put the bounty on their own heads to avoid the scandal that was unearthed about each of them no less than two weeks after they were found with bullets in their brains. He preferred those hits. All men, all guilty of something.)

Nevertheless, he finds himself here, perched on the rooftop of an upscale bar with his sniper rifle angled over the ledge. His scope was perfectly aligned with the entrance of the night club across the street, his right eye narrowed while the other was completely shut.

He sighs, tapping onto his earpiece to communicate with his teammate that was a few buildings over. Alexander.

(Alexander was a tech-nut. He was responsible for ensuring that the coast was clear, that there weren’t an abundance of cops in the area, and that security cameras of the establishment were looped continually in order to ensure that no one could suspect anything more than someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.)

“Reread the target description that was left for me,” Leon quietly commands.

“Aaand what’s the magic word?”

He heavily sighs. For a job like this, he figured that working alone would be the best option, but with the more he learned, the more experience he gained, the people he met—he was proven wrong. A team works more efficiently than a single person, even if the other half of his current team was a bit… annoying.

“Don’t piss me off,” he huffs, shaking his head as he closes one eye to look through the scope again.

Leon can practically hear Alexander’s grin on the other end of the line as he speaks. “Alright, man, jeez. Your g-string must be a bit too tight tonight, but that’s alright, I’m in no place to judge you.”

Before the blonde can even react to that unsettling quip, Alexander continues speaking, only this time, he does what Leon asks of him. “Bounty, bounty, bounty… where is the darn thing? Oh yes, here it is. Okay, it says that the target will be wearing a blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks tonight…. and that’s it.”

Leon hums, mulling over the very few words that were left for him by the person who had posted the contract in the first place. He’d never killed someone based on the description of an outfit alone,  but then again, he’s never gotten paid this much for sending a bullet through a random guy’s skull. He’ll take it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, turning off his ear piece to drown out the voice of the male on the other end.

It feels like hours pass by in which all he does is stare at the entrance, watching as each attendee leaves the establishment periodically. Each time he saw the color red, he’d perk up, only to find that they were wearing jeans, or they were wearing a white blazer, which only left him feeling more annoyed as time went on.

And then, the door opens. He can practically feel the air flee his lungs as he taps onto his earpiece out of instinct. A blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks.

“Ooh. Pretty. We guessed wrong, didn’t we?” Alexander speaks through the earpiece, which causes Leon to raise a brow.

“What’re you…” his voice trails. His blood runs cold, his palms begin to sweat, and his eyes blow wide. “Holy… fuck.”

“I know right? Not only is she a woman, but she’s miiiighty fine,” his teammate speaks, his voice oddly humorous for the given situation. A moment of silence passes, and Alexander continues to talk, but he can’t hear a damn word.

Leon freezes like a deer in headlights as he watches you emerge from the dim nightclub with a man’s arm slung around your shoulder, though that hardly taints how angelic you look tonight.

Your hair frames your face so beautifully, so soft and feminine. The tip of your nose was flushed given the crisp night air that you’ve just stepped into, your smile was wide and toothy as you walked beside a man that he didn’t recognize.

You’re gorgeous, is all he can manage to think right now. It’s the first time he’s seen you since the moment the two of you broke up six months ago, and you look even prettier than when he pictured you each night to fall asleep. He dreamt of you often, but his lovesick mind was no match for imagining the beauty that you possess.

Suddenly, Alexander’s voice pierced through his haze, bringing him back to the current scene. “Earth to Leon? I get it man, she’s pretty, very much so. I’d hit that too if she wasn’t gonna die in like… two secs.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he hisses, his voice sounding just as venomous as he’d intended it to. “You aren’t going to lay a damn finger on her.”

“Woah, buddy. Big talk from the guy with a sniper aimed at her head.”

That is the moment in which everything clicks in the worst way imaginable.

It’s you. His target, the person who knows too much, the one who is supposed to die tonight—it’s you.

And then, he becomes acutely aware of the lines that are obstructing his view of you. His scope. The red dot in the center placed strategically on your temple, the bullet meant just for you waiting for a simple pull of a trigger.

Leon shudders, picking his head up. No. Absolutely not. Completing his task was not even a thought in his mind anymore, not if the target was you. His beautiful, sweet girl.

But he couldn’t leave the scene unscathed. It would raise suspicion, possibly even tie him to you in a way that you didn’t need. If he didn’t fulfill the obligation in some way, someone else would. He’d broken up with you to save you from all of this, and now, he’d unknowingly come here to make you familiar with his lifestyle in the worst way possible.

You were walking away, and it’s then that his trained eyes fall onto the man who has his arm draped over your shoulder in the way he used to all those months ago. His heart aches at the mere sight of you looking so happy in the company of another, but it gives him an idea.

Leon looks through the scope again, and within seconds, a loud gunshot rings through the air in the form of a thundering pop.

His jaw tenses as he hears screaming. They aren’t your screams though, because you’re not hit. They’re coming from the man you were with, because Leon has just lightly grazed his arm with a bullet.

He wasn’t insane. He wasn’t going to be killing anyone tonight, even if he desperately wanted to kick the living shit out of the man who is so close to you.

Well… was close to you. He isn’t anymore. Your date is writhing on the pavement all because of a flesh wound, and you’re standing above him with the most confused and concerned look on your face.

Leon can’t help but think that the man has no regard for you and your safety. For all this mystery man knows, more shots could be coming, and instead of trying to protect you, he’s rolling around on the concrete like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Such a man baby.

“What’re you waiting for? Holy fuck, uh… you still have the shot. Take the shot—”

Leon pulls the earpiece away, turning it off before he shoves it into his back pocket. He didn’t need to be scolded by anyone, let alone someone as useless as his teammate. He’d beat him bloody for how he had spoken about you if he weren’t already packing up his equipment to head over to your place.

He needs to check on you, first and foremost. He also needs to explain himself which was… going to be no easy feat, he supposes.

You don’t find your way home until about an hour later, keys jumbling about as you push it into the slot, twisting it with a tired hand.

To be shot at was not on your agenda for tonight, but being berated by your date for not reacting quick enough to help him evade a bullet you had no knowledge of was certainly not how you wanted to end your night either.

Annoyed, exhausted, and frustrated, you step into your apartment. When you begin to shrug off your coat, your body tenses. No. Fucking. Way.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, your voice rising in octave.

Leon stands from your couch, approaching you with his hands in the air, attempting to show you that he hadn’t come with malice. You knew he hadn't, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him.

“Baby, it’s just me,” he says without thinking, the pet name slipping out before he could have a say in the matter.

“Yeah, I know it’s just you, that’s the problem!” you continue, hanging your coat up on the rack along with your purse. “Are you out of your damn mind? I—”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “I am out of my mind, and you must be out of yours for still keeping your spare key under your doormat. I told you to move it years ago.”

Your brows knit together. “You little— you know what? I’m not even going to entertain that. How about this? You leave, and we forget this happened, yeah?”

“Can’t do that,” he tells you with a shrug, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I need to talk to you.”

“Don’t do this, Leon, not tonight,” you huff, pinching your nose bridge. “I’m not in the mood, alright? I was—”

“Shot at?” he finishes your sentence. He immediately regrets it, pressing his lips into a line to keep himself from saying anything else.

Your demeanor falters at that. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing as you look at him from where he stands across the room. “How do you know that?”

He takes a moment to answer, his mouth opening without any words coming out. It spikes your frustration, so you speak again. “Damn it, Leon, how do you know that?”

Leon holds his hands up again, pleading his defense before he criminalizes himself entirely. “I was the one behind the gun, but it’s not what you think—”

Your jaw drops. “Not what I think? Not what I think? You tried to kill me!”

He shakes his head, his expression falling. “I didn’t, baby. I swear. Just let me explain, and—”

“You tried to shoot me in the damn neck!” you continue, your hand dramatically clasping into the side of your throat.

Leon closes his eyes for a moment, internally bracing himself for your outburst that he absolutely deserves. He opens them again, simply watching as you spew insults his way. He takes them without any hint of irritation.

“What the hell, Leon? Is that what you do now? You stalk your ex-girlfriend and try to kill her? Not only that, you missed. You missed! That’s almost fucking humorous, because how can you try to do something like that and then miss!”

Leon sighs, waiting for a moment to see if you try to continue, and when you don’t, he speaks instead. “I aimed for his arm, not your neck, or anywhere else that would endanger you—”

“Yeah, and you almost blew his arm off!” You’re more than aware that the statement was dramatic, but you don’t need to have any sense right now.

“It was a flesh wound, he’ll be just fine,” he tells you before he continues with what he was saying before. “And I wasn’t stalking you. Not knowingly, anyway. I would never hurt you. Not ever. Your date was just… collateral. I had no choice.”

He hopes that you don’t ask any more questions about that, because he won’t have any answers for you. It was for the better. All you knew was that his job wasn’t legal. It couldn’t have been, not with the copious amounts of money that rolled in while he hardly worked for half of the month.

The less you knew about what his line of work entailed, the safer you were. The further away you were from him, the safer you were. However, those last words now ring hollow.

“Look…” he whispers, taking a step towards you despite his brain screaming at him to leave. He couldn’t. Not when he was the only one who knew of your compromised position. “I know that much has changed between us. It’s my fault, I know it, but I can’t tell you anything more about my job. I just need you to—”

You need answers that you won’t be getting, and that sentiment alone makes you furious. When he gets too close, your hand moves to the leather harness that he has strapped around his broad chest, pulling a sharp-bladed knife from its sleeve. His eyes widen as you hold the blade up to him, his hands shooting up into the air yet again.

“You remember where I put my spare key, I remember where you keep your spare knife,” you taunt, the two of you standing so close now that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Guess we haven’t changed as much as you think.”

He huffs as the cool blade grazes his clothed chest, the metal so close that it nearly pierces his skin. Even then, you ensure that it doesn’t. It’s almost touching how you press such a sharp object to his heart of all places, he thinks.

Your situation is far more complicated than the both of you can handle right now. You have unresolved issues with each other, and that alone must be addressed before you can even begin to scratch the surface of the threats that now face the two of you.

“I still think you’re sexy when you’re mean to me,” he whispers, tilting his head to the side. “That hasn’t changed either.”

Was it the time for his flirtatious performance? Certainly not, but you were putting on a little performance of your own just the same.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

Leon shakes his head, his eyes narrowing just as yours did. “Disgusting? Oh, don’t romance me.”

“I’m not romancing you,” you huff with an eye roll. Your grip on the knife only tightens, but you have no real intention of using it. “I’m threatening you.”

He hardly finds you to be threatening. He’d liken you to an angry cat, but he wouldn’t dare voice that out loud. He’s letting you have your moment, truth be told. “Mm, even better.”

His calloused hand moves to shadow yours, slowly lowering the knife that begged to pierce his pale skin. You let him, which only gives him more incentive to pull it away from your grasp entirely.

He tucks the knife back into his sheath, moving to unbuckle the harness entirely. “Now, tell me. Who was that guy?”

A random guy you met on Tinder. “My future husband.”

You’re just trying to get under his skin now, and judging by the look on his face, it’s working. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you, taking note of that smug grin that stretches over your lips.

He really just wants to fuck it right off you, but he doesn’t make that known. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah?” he asks, tilting his head. “You gonna let him put a ring on that pretty finger of yours?”

No, you absolutely were not, but you’re enjoying this game. It’s what he deserves after scaring the shit out of you tonight. “Yeah, I am. Thinking about some baby names too, just for safekeeping.”

Leon doesn’t like the thought that you’ve just put in his head, not one bit. His hand finds your left one, bringing it up to his lips as he presses a kiss on your ring finger. “Huh. That’s what you want?”

You tilt your head, noticing how his lips linger on your hand for a moment too long. “You know what I don’t want? To be shot at.”

He hums, giving you a mocking frown. Of course he feels bad about that, but… you both know he hadn’t truly shot at you. Around you, yes, but not at you. His large hands find your waist, his fingers grasping onto the fabric of your shirt and slowly but surely, you find yourself being backed towards your couch.

“Answer my question,” he whispers, his voice now possessing a rasp that it didn’t have before.

You sigh, willingly sitting on your couch, even though you’re doing your best to front as though you’re totally disinterested. “Why should I?”

He shrugs, his lips tugging down as he tilts his head. You watch with blown eyes as he kneels in front of you, his palms gliding over your thighs.

“‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him quite intently as his fingers move to the button of your slacks. You shouldn’t be turned on, but you absolutely are, and the damp fabric of your panties that he’s about to see conveys that pretty well.

“Give me what?” you ask, grinning slightly.

“A ring, a baby… both, neither,” he replies, his fingers hooking beneath your waistband. “Lift your hips for me.”

When you do just that, his eyes raise to find yours. He has a crazed look in his eye, one that you’re all too familiar with. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you,” he whispers, leaning in until his soft lips just barely brush against yours.

Your eyes close, and you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you… but he doesn’t. When you open your eyes, you find him grinning. The same shit-eating grin that you love and hate to no avail.

“You just have to say the words,” he whispers against your lips.

You roll your eyes, your hand reaching out to rest on the back of his neck. He was already impossibly close, so all you truly did was hold him there. “I want to kiss you.”

Leon smiles, nodding his head in agreement. “Mm, like I said. Whatever my lady wants, she gets.”

His lips find yours in a searing kiss, his calloused hands smoothing over the soft, exposed skin of your thighs. Your lips move together in a gentle manner at first, as though you were allowing yourselves to get familiar all over again, but you were both quick to realize that gentleness was the last thing you needed.

Your breathing grows ragged as one of his hands cups the back of your head, tilting you just enough so that his tongue could easily slip into your mouth. The kiss was sloppier, messier, much more desperate. It was perfect, in your humble opinion.

He trails kisses down your cheek, jaw, neck… just about anywhere he could as he begins his gradual descent. His hands palm at your breasts through your shirt, and without hesitation, his hands grasp onto the fabric and yank it open. Buttons go flying about your living room, but Leon doesn’t seem to care with the way his face pressed into your cleavage.

One of his hands snaked behind you to undo the clasp of your bra, and the moment he saw a nipple, his mouth was already distracted once again.

“Leon, that was my favorite shirt!” you scold, glancing down at him.

He looks up at you with hazed eyes, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth before he releases it to reply to you. “Was it?” he asks, his reply lacking any care in the slightest.

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him, but your front doesn’t last long when his tongue swirls around your areola. He reaches into his back pocket, tossing his wallet beside you.

“Buy a new one, shit, buy anything you want,” he whispers against your skin, his hands grasping onto your waist. “Tits are so pretty, baby. I missed you.”

“Is that all you missed about me?” you ask, a huff of laughter leaving your lips while his trail down your stomach.

“Absolutely not, no,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric of your panties. He looks at you as he pulls them down your legs, and he presses his warm lips to your inner calves and thighs as he makes his way towards you again. “Missed everything about you.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s corny—”

“Sh,” he tells you, holding one finger up while he uses his other hand to slip one into your sopping entrance. Your walls clench around him, which only forces a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Let her talk for a bit, yeah?”

He hardly gives you a moment to reply before his head dips, his tongue curling up to stimulate your clit before he sucks on it entirely. He unabashedly moans into your cunt, introducing another finger into your entrance simultaneously.

Your head falls back, your hand delving into his hair to hold him impossibly closer to you, even though he seriously would get closer if he could.

“Sweetest pussy,” he murmurs into your heat, his voice rumbling against your wet cunt that he continued to eat like he would die if he didn’t. “Do somethin’ for me?”

You pick your head up to look down at him, nodding without question. He opens his eyes to look at you in return, pressing a kiss onto your mound before he turns around so that his back is now pressed against the front of your couch, still sitting on the ground.

“Sit on my face,” he suggests, tipping his head back onto the couch cushion.

He reaches for your hand to pull you forward, and you pivot on your knee, your front facing the back of the couch. He lays a light smack on your ass before he pulls you down the rest of the way to make you sit on his face.

Your hand reaches down, clutching onto his hair yet again while you cry out in genuine bliss. His tongue softens as he gives you long, deep licks into your pussy, wanting to taste every inch of you on his tongue.

And when your hips start to rock, he seems to be even happier. Much more incentivized too. He lulls his tongue out of his mouth, flattening it to let you ride his face as you so pleased. You made a mess of his chin, his mouth, his nose—he hardly cares.

(In fact, he doesn’t care. Not one bit. You might even have to pay him to care.)

“Y-You know,” you whine, grasping a bit firmer onto his hair while your hips continue to roll on his tongue, “I’m still mad at you.”

He nods his head, which only stimulates your cunt even more. “Mm, yeah?”

It felt so good. Everything about this was absolutely ecstasy, you can feel your eyes pricking with tears from how stimulated you’re growing.

“Yeah,” you choke out, resting your palms on the back of the couch to brace yourself. “I’m really fucking mad.”

Leon can’t help but grin, his hands brushing along the plush of your thighs. “I’m not too sure, sweetheart. Not with you riding my face like you love me ‘n all.”

“Shut… shut the hell up,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as your movements begin to grow even more crazed the closer you get to your release. He was right, but that didn’t mean you had to admit that.

“Okay,” he complies, his eyes fluttering shut while he starts to greedily make out with your pussy, feeling the way you pulsate on his tongue. “Shuttin’ me up real nice with this pretty little pussy. Cum on my face too while you’re at it, pretty girl.”

Not nice enough, but you cry out anyway, your head falling while your legs tremble on either side of his head. “I… Leon, ‘m cumming,” you say through an airy moan.

His movements slow as yours do, his tongue eagerly reaping the benefits of its labor in the form of your sweet release. He lets out a content sigh, pressing a few sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

You slowly rise up from his face, and he turns around to face you again, licking his lips, not caring about the rest of your thin slick that coats his face. You chuckle, running your hand over his face to wipe it away.

“So…” he drawls, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re still mad at me? Tell me more.”

“Later,” you reply, hooking your finger into the loophole of his pants to pull him closer to you.

With a chuckle, Leon pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly on the floor of your living room. He gently nudges you until you’re laying back on your couch, his hands then moving to undo his belt.

“Ah, I see,” he teases, pushing his pants and boxers down in one motion. He kicks them away before he settles in between your parted legs, his hand pumping his cock.

You raise your eyes from his cock to his eyes, and you give him the most weary expression alive. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you say.

It’s been too long, you were certainly not used to his size anymore. Leon knew it just as well as you did, but he didn’t want to make you nervous by saying that.

His brows knit together as he leans down to kiss you, his fingers moving a bit lower to prod your entrance. “You flatter me,” he says against your lips, his head dipping a bit lower to kiss your neck. “But there’s no need to worry your pretty head, baby. It fit before and it fit just right, remember? I’ll take care of you just like I did then.”

You nod your head, one of your hands cupping the back of his head while the other rests on his strong shoulder. “Okay… yeah, okay.”

He nods too, moving one of his hands to meet the one that you have resting on his shoulder. He intertwines your fingers, pushing your hand back onto the couch while he uses his other one to slide his tip along your folds.

“I promise,” he whispers, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

He always has. Even after the events of tonight, you know that he always will.

“I love you,” you say without thinking. A flush rushes across your face, and you close your eyes in utter embarrassment. (Seriously? A confession of your undying love while he’s actively entering you? Time and place.) “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he whispers, pushing his cock further inside of you until he bottoms out. “Mm… I love you so much,” he replies without a care in the world. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

Your eyes soften at that, and a small chuckle leaves your lips. “Well… that’s good, isn’t it…?”

His eyebrows knit together, laughing softly at your awkward reply. “You’re such a dork, baby,” he whispers, dipping his head to plant a kiss on your lips while he rolls his hips into yours. “A pretty one, though.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss on your lips, and they stay shut, even when he opts to just rest his forehead on yours. “Your dork,” you say, a bit breathlessly with a smile on your face.

“Mhm,” he nods in agreement, a toothy smile stretching across his face. “My dork.”

Such a lovely interaction that you nearly forgot that he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, because the moment he falls silent, your eyes widen. “Oh, God…”

He smiles, kissing your cheek while he continues to thrust inside of you, his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy in a way that made him feel like he was finally home.

“See?” he whispers in your ear, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re taking me so well, pretty. So well.”

That makes you chuckle, but your laugh doesn’t last for long when the head of his cock rams into you even harder. Your hand smooths out along the expanse of his back, dragging your nails back up.

“You’re crazy,” you gasp out.

Leon smiles. “Crazy about you, sure.”

You laugh through an airy moan, tilting your head to the side as your eyes flutter shut. “Sooo corny,” you whisper.

He shakes his head with his same toothy grin, using his free hand to tilt your chin towards him again. His thumb brushes along your bottom lip before he kisses you, and it is just about the sweetest kiss that you could have ever asked for.

“You love it,” he murmurs in reply, a bit breathless as an overwhelming heat pools in his lower stomach.

You shake your head. “I love you.”

Leon clicks his tongue at that, giving your hand a squeeze. “And I’m the corny one?”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh. He loves hearing you like this, so happy yet so utterly ruined by the way he feels inside of you. He knows that the feeling is mutual, which only amplifies how much he’s enjoying this. Having you again.

He softly moans in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Pussy was made for me,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “You were made for me.”

After a few more strokes, he truly begins to lose himself. His cock twitches inside of you, and he dips his head into your shoulder. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” he rasps.

He pulls back, but you only pull him closer. It’s been so long, he hadn’t truly thought that you’d be okay with that. But here you were, his favorite girl. Always surprising him. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You nod your head, wrapping your free arm around his neck while the other gives his hand another squeeze. “I love you more.”

He grunts when your walls clench around his length, his lips pressing a longing kiss to your shoulder. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon. I need it, honey, please.”

You’re in no position to deny him or yourself. Your body trembles beneath him, a gorgeous moan ripping through the air while he buries himself deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum while you find your own release on his cock.

The two of you lay there for a moment, out of breath and entirely engulfed by one another. He slowly pulls out of you, pressing a few chaste kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, until he eventually kisses your lips.

When he pulls away, you smile up at him. You chase his lips once more, giving him a tender kiss before you lay your head back down.

“Now, as for why I’m still mad at you…”

note. yeahhh i need him bad in a way that’s concerning to feminism. anywhoooo interact if you enjoyed i rly like writing for him :D thank you so much for reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[arilevenatz]

Royally Bound

Pairing: Prince!Seonghwa x reader

Genre: Arranged marriage au, fluff (omg so much of it)

Word count: 10k

Warnings: none :)

AN: Get ready to be bombarded with the most gentleman of gentleman Seonghwa. Omg he is so sweet to mc. I wrote this solely because I had a thought of ONE scene from this and I wrote an entire fic based on it. And don't forget to like and reblog pls it motivates me to write more!!!

Masterlist

In the heart of the flourishing kingdom of Eryndor stood a grand castle, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens as if to touch the very stars. Within its walls resided the royal family: King Park, a wise and benevolent ruler; Queen Park, a graceful and compassionate woman; and their only son, Crown Prince Park Seonghwa.

Prince Seonghwa was the embodiment of strength and discipline. His cold, straightforward demeanor had earned him a reputation as a strict and unyielding leader. While some whispered of his severity, the majority of Eryndor’s people revered him. For though his words were sharp and his judgments firm, his actions always spoke of his deep love for the kingdom.

Each morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the castle windows, Seonghwa would rise, his mind already set on the day’s duties. From overseeing military drills to attending council meetings, his meticulous nature allowed no room for error. He walked the castle halls with a commanding presence, his dark eyes scanning every corner, every detail, ensuring that everything was in its rightful place.

Despite his stern exterior, Seonghwa’s heart was one of quiet devotion. He spent hours in the castle library studying the histories of past kings and queens, seeking wisdom to guide his future rule. He visited the kingdom's towns and villages, speaking to the people not with flowery words but with a genuine desire to understand their struggles.

Even in the grand halls of the castle, where the kingdom’s most influential figures gathered for meetings and important events, Crown Prince Seonghwa was a figure of quiet authority. Draped in royal attire that reflected his status, he sat at the long, ornate table, his posture impeccable, his expression unreadable.

Unlike many who sought to fill the air with their voices, Seonghwa remained silent, his sharp eyes observing every gesture, every word exchanged. He spoke only when addressed directly, and even then, his responses were concise and precise, like arrows hitting their mark.

At times, his silence unnerved those around him. Ministers and advisors would glance at him nervously, uncertain of what he might be thinking. Yet, when he did speak, his words carried such weight and clarity that they often silenced the entire room.

During a particularly heated council meeting, where arguments about the kingdom’s trade policies had reached a crescendo, Seonghwa had remained still, his gaze shifting between the quarreling parties. Finally, when the king himself turned to him for his opinion, Seonghwa’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

“Trade benefits the kingdom only when it is fair and sustainable,” he stated coldly. “If you cannot negotiate terms that protect Eryndor’s interests while maintaining alliances, then perhaps someone more capable should handle the matter.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone present. Though his tone was devoid of anger, his bluntness left no room for misinterpretation. The advisors exchanged uneasy glances, while the king nodded, a faint smile of approval gracing his lips.

At royal banquets and celebrations, Seonghwa’s presence was equally commanding, even though he rarely indulged in pleasantries. While others mingled and exchanged smiles, he stood by the sidelines, his watchful eyes scanning the room for anything amiss. When addressed, he responded with the same measured calm, his words carrying a sense of purpose that few could match.

The people of Eryndor often whispered about his reserved nature, some calling it aloofness, others seeing it as strength. But whether feared or admired, there was no denying that Crown Prince Park Seonghwa was a man of unwavering discipline and control, a leader who valued action over words and results over empty promises.

The grand dining hall of the castle was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of Eryndor’s storied history. The royal family dined in silence, the clinking of silverware the only sound until Queen Park, with her ever-graceful demeanor, broke the silence.

“Seonghwa,” she began, her voice gentle but firm, “your father and I have been discussing a matter of great importance.”

The Crown Prince, seated at the head of the table, set his goblet down with practiced precision. His dark eyes lifted to meet hers, his expression as composed as ever. “Pray, speak your mind, Mother.”

The queen exchanged a brief glance with the king before continuing. “It is time, my son, for you to consider a union. The kingdom requires a future queen, someone to stand by your side and share the burdens of rule.”

Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, his posture unyielding as his gaze shifted between his parents. “Is that so?” His tone was measured, devoid of enthusiasm. “I was under the impression that my duties as Crown Prince were quite sufficient without the added endeavor of courtship.”

King Park sighed, his deep voice resonating through the room. “It is not merely about duty, Seonghwa. A union strengthens alliances, fortifies the kingdom’s position, and, dare I say, may bring you some measure of solace in the years to come.”

“Solace,” Seonghwa repeated, a faint trace of irony in his voice. “How poetic. Yet I see no such necessity. The kingdom flourishes, the council obeys, and the people prosper. What more is required?”

Queen Park’s serene expression faltered ever so slightly. “A ruler cannot stand alone forever. You may not see the need now, but in time, you will.”

For days thereafter, the subject lingered like an unwelcome guest, the queen and king broaching the topic at every opportunity. Seonghwa, however, remained steadfast in his reluctance, deflecting their attempts with a mastery born of his disciplined nature.

But even the most resolute walls crumble under relentless tides. On the morning of the seventh day, Seonghwa finally relented, though his disinterest was plain for all to see.

“Very well,” he said, his voice as cold as the winter wind. “If it shall grant me relief from your incessant nagging, I shall meet this woman you have selected. But let it be known, I do this not out of desire, but out of obligation.”

Queen Park’s face lit up with a hopeful smile, though she knew better than to voice her triumph aloud. “You shall not regret it, my son. We have known the Hwang household for a while now.”

Seonghwa rose from his chair, his movements deliberate and measured. “We shall see, Mother,” he replied, his tone carrying the faintest edge of skepticism. “Though I pray you do not expect me to feign interest where there is none.”

With that, he left the room, his long cloak trailing behind him, the echo of his boots fading into the distance. The queen sighed, her heart a mixture of relief and concern. For while her son had agreed, his heart remained as untouchable as ever.

The Hwang household was one of great renown in the kingdom, its name carrying a legacy of loyalty and service to the royal family. Your grandfather, Hwang Taejin, had been the closest confidant of King Park when he ascended the throne, forging a bond that still tied the two families together.

As the youngest daughter, you were the quiet shadow amidst your lively siblings. Your eldest sister, Hwang Seoyoon, was the pride of the family—a graceful woman of charm and poise, admired by many. Your brothers, Hwang Jinhyuk, Hwang Minseok, and Hwang Daehyun, were no less impressive: boisterous, ambitious, and ever eager to showcase the family’s brilliance to the world.

And then there was you.

While Seoyoon spent hours selecting gowns and jewels, and your brothers busied themselves with their social engagements, you preferred the solace of your room or the quiet corners of the garden. Your straightforward nature often set you apart; you had no patience for flowery words or pointless chatter. When spoken to, you answered with blunt honesty, a trait that earned you both admiration and exasperation in equal measure.

“Honestly, you’re hopeless,” Seoyoon often sighed, fussing over her reflection in a gilded mirror. “How can you expect to make a good match if you refuse to step outside?”

“Who says I expect to make a match at all?” you would reply, your tone calm but unyielding.

Jinhyuk, the eldest of your brothers, was no less persistent. “You’re the youngest. People expect you to be lively and charming, not... whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely in your direction.

“Then people are fools for expecting anything at all,” you would counter, much to his chagrin.

Minseok and Daehyun, the middle brothers, often tried to coax you out of the house with promises of excitement. “Come, little sister,” Minseok would say, his grin infectious. “There’s a festival in the town square. You’ll love it!”

“No,” you replied curtly, not even glancing up from your book.

“Just once,” Daehyun chimed in, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re wasting your youth locked away in here.”

“Better to waste it in peace than to squander it in nonsense,” you retorted.

Your parents, while loving, were equally puzzled by your reluctance to engage in the vibrant social life your family cherished. “You are a Hwang,” your mother reminded you one evening. “With that name comes responsibility. You cannot hide away forever.”

But you didn’t see it as hiding. To you, the world beyond your home was a noisy, chaotic place, and you found no joy in it. The garden, the library, the quiet evenings by the fire—these were your treasures, and you saw no reason to trade them for the fleeting pleasures your siblings pursued.

Unbeknownst to you, however, your life was about to be entangled with the royal family in a way you could never have anticipated.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the windows of your room as you sat in your favorite corner, a thick book resting in your lap. The quiet rustle of pages was soothing, a rare moment of peace in a household that was anything but.

Your eldest sister, Seoyoon, had made herself comfortable on the chaise near the window. She was in the midst of a long-winded tale about the latest fashions in court, her voice animated and full of excitement. You, however, barely glanced up, too engrossed in the intricate story unfolding in your book.

“And then Lady Eunhwa had the audacity to wear the same gown twice in one week!” Seoyoon exclaimed, placing a dramatic hand on her chest. When you failed to respond, she huffed, her voice turning teasing. “Are you even listening? Or is that book more interesting than my tales?”

“Far more interesting,” you replied bluntly, not looking up.

She clicked her tongue in exasperation but continued regardless. “Oh, by the way, two of the king’s guards came by today.”

At that, your eyes flickered up from the page, though only briefly. It wasn’t unusual for members of the royal household to visit. After all, the king favored your father greatly, treating him almost like a younger brother. The king, slightly younger than your late grandfather, had become close to your family over the years, especially as your father had grown into a trusted confidant.

“It’s hardly news, unnie,” you said, turning a page. “The king’s guards have been here countless times before.”

“Yes, but they don’t usually come with such a formal air,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I overheard Father speaking with them. It seems they were delivering a message about... well, something rather important.”

You raised an eyebrow, finally giving her your full attention. “Important how?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to spoil the mystery,” she said coyly, though you could tell she was itching to share. “But I will say this—it has something to do with Prince Seonghwa.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, you frowned. “Why would anything involving him concern us?”

Seoyoon leaned closer, lowering her voice as if she were sharing a secret. “The relationships are a bit tangled, don’t you think? The king was close to Grandfather, but he had Prince Seonghwa later in life. Meanwhile, Father had us all when he was still quite young. It makes the royal family feel less like distant rulers and more like... well, extended relatives.”

“Relatives who happen to rule the kingdom,” you muttered, shutting your book with a quiet thud. “What exactly are you trying to say, unnie?”

She smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. “I’m saying, little sister, that perhaps this visit wasn’t as routine as it seemed. Perhaps you should start paying more attention to the world outside your books. You never know what might be coming your way.”

You stared at her for a moment, trying to decipher her meaning. But when she simply rose from her seat with a graceful shrug and left the room, you couldn’t help but feel a nagging sense of unease. Whatever the king’s guards had come for, you had a sinking feeling it would disrupt the quiet life you so fiercely cherished.

When Crown Prince Seonghwa learned of the arrangements his parents had made, he stood in the vast study of the royal palace, his arms crossed behind his back as he gazed out of the towering windows. The distant sound of the bustling kingdom below barely registered in his mind.

“So, it is the youngest daughter of the Hwang household,” he said aloud, his tone carefully neutral, though there was a faint trace of hesitation in his voice.

Queen Park, seated gracefully by the hearth, nodded with a small smile. “Indeed. Youngest of Hwang. A quiet young lady, from what I have gathered. She is much unlike her siblings, preferring solitude to society. A curious match, I admit, but one worth considering.”

Seonghwa turned to face his mother, his expression calm but his thoughts clearly at war. “The connections between our families are... unusual, to put it plainly,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Her grandfather, as you know, he and Father shared a bond that went beyond mere loyalty. But then there’s her father—he’s younger than father, yet he married and had children before he did. My father married late and had me even later. That’s a strange difference in timing and position, don’t you think?”

He sighed, pacing slowly as he spoke, his thoughts almost unraveling as he considered the oddities of the situation. “The generations between us are not just tangled—they’re almost mismatched. It’s a contrast of decisions, timing, and expectations that’s hard to ignore.”

He glanced at his mother, the faintest trace of doubt in his eyes. “I understand the deep affection for the Hwang family, especially given the history with my father and her grandfather. But I wonder if that admiration has made him overlook how strange these connections really are. It’s a lot to consider in something as important as marriage.”

The queen chuckled softly, though her gaze was steady. “You speak as though this is of great consequence. The ties between our families have always been strong. Surely you understand why your father holds them in such high regard.”

Seonghwa exhaled, his brow furrowing slightly. He did understand. The Hwang family had been pillars of loyalty and wisdom for decades, their contributions to the crown invaluable. The late Hwang Taejin had been more than a counselor to King Park—he had been a brother in spirit, if not in blood. And even now, the king's fondness for the Hwang household was evident in every interaction.

Still, the prince could not shake his reservations. “I do not question their loyalty or merit,” he replied, his voice calm but firm. “But I see little reason to entangle myself in such matters simply because of sentiment.”

“You agreed to meet her, Seonghwa,” the queen reminded him gently. “It would do you well to approach this with an open mind. Who knows? Perhaps you will find her company agreeable.”

Seonghwa gave a faint, almost imperceptible scoff. “Agreeable,” he echoed. “I have little need for agreeable company, Mother. What I require is a partner of intellect, strength, and understanding. If she possesses these qualities, then perhaps this meeting will not be entirely futile.”

“Fate has a way of surprising us,” the queen said softly, rising to her feet. She placed a hand on her son’s arm, her expression a mixture of hope and fondness. “Give her a chance, Seonghwa. That is all we ask of you.”

The prince nodded curtly, though his mind remained conflicted. He was no stranger to duty, but this arrangement felt... complicated. And yet, as much as he might resist, he could not entirely ignore the deep respect his father held for the Hwang family. If nothing else, he owed it to the king to see this through.

As he returned to his chambers later that evening, Seonghwa allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. Her name lingered in his thoughts, an enigma wrapped in his family’s history. He resolved to meet her with the same quiet strength and scrutiny he approached all things—but he would not let sentiment cloud his judgment.

For a man as steadfast as Seonghwa, the prospect of meeting someone new, especially under such circumstances, was a challenge. But little did he know, the meeting would test him in ways he had never anticipated.

The soft afternoon light filtered through the window beside you, casting warm patterns on the wooden floor. You were curled up in a small nook by the window, a quiet corner of the house that you had claimed as your own. The garden beyond the glass was lush and vibrant, its blooms swaying gently in the breeze. It was a peaceful sight, one you often sought solace in.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence, and you sighed quietly, already bracing yourself for the disruption. Moments later, Seoyoon and Minseok burst into the room, their faces alight with a mixture of excitement and intrigue.

“Y/N,” Seoyoon began, her voice sing-song as she made her way toward you. “Have you heard what Father’s been planning?”

You didn’t look up from your book, your tone flat as you replied, “I’m sure you’ll tell me regardless of whether I have or not.”

Minseok laughed, plopping down onto a nearby chair. “She’s as blunt as ever,” he said, shaking his head. “But you’ll want to hear this, little sister. It’s about the royal family.”

That caught your attention, though you didn’t let it show. Keeping your eyes on the page, you said evenly, “What about them?”

Seoyoon perched herself on the edge of the table, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Apparently, Father has been talking with the king. And do you know what they’ve decided?”

You glanced up at her, your expression unreadable. “I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”

“They’re planning for you to meet the Crown Prince,” she said, her voice dripping with glee.

You blinked, the words hanging in the air for a moment before you set your book down. “Why?”

Minseok leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? The king and Father have always been close. And with the prince needing a bride, it seems Father thinks you might be a good match.”

Your gaze shifted between your siblings, your mind working to process this sudden revelation. “And no one thought to ask me what I think about this?”

Seoyoon laughed, a melodic sound that made your irritation spike. “Oh, Y/N, you always act as though you have a choice in these matters. This is about duty, about family. You should feel honored.”

“Honored,” you echoed, your tone dry. “To be paraded in front of a man I’ve never met, all for the sake of politics? Forgive me if I fail to see the appeal.”

Minseok held up his hands in mock surrender. “We’re just the messengers, little sister. If you have complaints, take them to Father. But I doubt it’ll change anything.”

You turned your gaze back to the garden, your thoughts swirling. The idea of meeting the Crown Prince—a man whose reputation for coldness preceded him—was far from appealing. But you knew your father well enough to know that his mind was likely already made up.

“Lovely,” you muttered under your breath, picking up your book once more. “This is exactly how I wanted to spend my time.”

Seoyoon grinned, patting your shoulder as she stood. “Cheer up, Y/N. Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

As Seoyoon leaned in closer, her grin widening, you sighed and finally closed your book, resting it on your lap. You turned to her, your tone as dry as ever. “Aren’t you married, Seoyoon? Why are you here, meddling in things that don’t concern you? Shouldn’t you be at your own home, managing your household?”

Seoyoon gasped, placing a hand over her chest as though you’d struck her. “How cruel, Y/N! Is this how you speak to your poor elder sister who only wants the best for you?”

“You’re hardly poor, and your meddling is far from helpful,” you retorted, arching an eyebrow. “Go home, Seoyoon. Surely your husband must be wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”

Seoyoon pouted theatrically, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. “For your information,” she said, drawing herself up with mock dignity, “my work at home is complete. Everything is running perfectly, and my husband is away on business for a while. So, I’ve decided to grace this house with my presence for a couple of weeks.”

You groaned quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Wonderful,” you muttered under your breath. “Just what we all needed.”

Minseok laughed from his seat, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You should be glad, Y/N. Seoyoon’s here to keep you company. Isn’t that nice?”

“Thrilling,” you deadpanned, leaning back against the nook. “Exactly what I wanted—unsolicited company and unsolicited plans for my life.”

Seoyoon reached out and ruffled your hair in a way that only an older sibling could get away with. “Oh, come now, Y/N. You’ll thank me someday for my wisdom and guidance. Just wait and see.”

You swatted her hand away, glaring at her half-heartedly. “I highly doubt that.”

As she and Minseok shared another laugh, you sighed and picked up your book again, silently bracing yourself for the chaos her extended stay would undoubtedly bring.

The warm glow of the evening lanterns filled the dining hall as your family gathered for the evening meal. The atmosphere was lively, with Seoyoon chatting away about her plans for the week, Minseok teasing her, and your other brothers laughing at their antics. You sat quietly at your usual spot, focused on your plate, letting the noise of the room wash over you.

As the meal was nearing its end, your father cleared his throat, a sure sign that he had something important to say. The room quieted almost instantly, everyone turning their attention to him.

“I have news to share,” he began, his tone steady but carrying a weight that made your stomach sink slightly. “The king and queen, along with the Crown Prince, will be visiting our household in three days’ time.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before they fully registered. Your siblings exchanged surprised glances, and Seoyoon’s face lit up with excitement. You, however, frowned, your grip tightening on your utensils.

“To what purpose?” you asked, your voice calm but edged with suspicion.

Your father met your gaze, his expression firm yet warm. “They are coming to formally meet you, Y/N, and to discuss the arrangements for your marriage to the Crown Prince.”

The room erupted in chatter—your brothers asking further questions, Seoyoon clapping her hands in delight—but you felt as though the ground had shifted beneath you.

“Marriage?” you repeated, your tone sharper now. “And when, exactly, were you planning to inform me of this?”

Your mother, who had been quiet until now, placed a gentle hand on your father’s arm and smiled at you. “Y/N, we knew you’d react this way, and we didn’t want to burden you with unnecessary worries before everything was set.”

“Unnecessary worries?” you echoed incredulously, setting down your utensils with a clatter. “You’re discussing my marriage—my future—and you didn’t think I should have a say in the matter? Or even be informed before decisions were made?”

Your father waved a hand dismissively, his tone remaining calm but final. “This is not something for you to worry about, Y/N. The king himself has chosen you, and this is a great honor for our family. Everything has been decided with the best intentions for you and for us all.”

“But—” you tried to protest, only for Seoyoon to cut in, her voice bright and eager.

“Oh, Y/N, stop being so dramatic! It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about! What more could you possibly want?”

You shot her a glare but bit back your retort, knowing it would be futile. Looking back at your father, you tried one last time. “I only wish I had been told sooner. Surely I deserve that much.”

“Y/N,” your father said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are my daughter, and as part of this family, you must trust that we have made the right choice for you. The matter is settled.”

You sank back in your chair, the weight of their words pressing down on you. Around you, the conversation quickly shifted to the preparations for the royal visit, your family buzzing with excitement. But you couldn’t shake the frustration and unease bubbling within you.

You sat quietly, your appetite gone, staring down at your untouched plate as their voices grew distant in your mind. The life you cherished—the quiet, predictable solitude—was slipping away, and no one seemed to care.

The day the royals arrived, the Hwang household was bustling with activity. The servants had been working tirelessly to prepare the house, and your family was dressed in their finest attire. You stood near the back of the receiving room, watching as your parents greeted the king, queen, and the Crown Prince with warm smiles and formal bows.

When they entered, Prince Seonghwa's presence was immediately commanding. Dressed in a perfectly tailored royal suit, his sharp features and cold demeanor matched everything you had heard about him. He was polite but distant, exchanging pleasantries with your father and siblings, his tone measured and precise.

You, however, remained quiet, answering only when directly addressed, and even then, your responses were curt and to the point. The rest of your family, particularly Seoyoon, made up for your lack of enthusiasm with their excitement and chatter.

After a lengthy discussion between your father and the king about the arrangements, your mother approached you with a pointed look and said softly, “Y/N, why don’t you and the prince have a private conversation? Get to know each other.”

You wanted to protest, but before you could, Seoyoon nudged you forward with a teasing smile. Reluctantly, you followed the prince to the garden, where the air was cooler, and the faint scent of blooming flowers lingered.

Seonghwa walked a step ahead of you, his hands clasped behind his back. When you reached the center of the garden, he turned to face you, his dark eyes scanning your face for a moment before he spoke.

“I trust you find this arrangement agreeable?” he asked, his tone formal and detached.

You gave a polite nod. “If it pleases my family, then it pleases me.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “That is... an expected answer. You speak of duty rather than choice.”

“It seems choice was never part of the discussion,” you replied evenly, your gaze meeting his without flinching.

For a moment, there was silence between you, the distant hum of conversation from the house filling the space. Seonghwa tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “I speak when there’s something worth saying.”

A faint flicker of amusement crossed his face, so brief you almost missed it. “An admirable philosophy,” he said. “Though it makes conversations rather... challenging.”

“That depends on who I’m speaking to,” you replied, your tone calm but not unkind.

He seemed to consider your words, his expression softening just slightly. “Fair enough,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I suppose I am not accustomed to people who value silence over unnecessary chatter.”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead letting the silence stretch between you. The weight of his gaze was palpable, but you refused to shrink under it. Finally, you said, “I’m sure the prince has little need for idle conversation, either.”

This time, his lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smile. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But I find myself curious about you, Miss Hwang. You are... different.”

You inclined your head slightly. “Different isn’t always favorable, Your Highness.”

“Not always,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “But sometimes it is necessary.”

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the quiet garden suddenly feeling more intimate than before. You couldn’t quite read the prince, his every word and movement calculated, but there was a strange sense of understanding in his tone.

Before either of you could say more, a servant appeared in the garden, bowing deeply. “Your Highness, the king has requested your presence.”

Seonghwa nodded once, then turned back to you. “Until next time, Miss Hwang.”

You offered a polite nod in return. “Your Highness.”

As he walked away, you exhaled softly, unsure of what to make of the exchange. Something about the prince unsettled you—not in an unpleasant way, but in a way that left you wondering.

It had been a week since the royals left, and life at the Hwang household had returned to its usual rhythm—at least on the surface. Beneath the calm, preparations for your upcoming marriage were already in full swing, much to your quiet displeasure. You found solace in your little routines, but even that was short-lived.

One crisp morning, as you sat in your usual nook by the window with a book in hand, a servant hurried in with a message. “Miss, the Crown Prince has arrived. He wishes to take you on an outing.”

You froze, the words sinking in. Closing the book slowly, you looked up. “Did he say why?”

The servant hesitated. “No, miss. But your father has already given his approval.”

Of course, you thought grimly. Rising reluctantly, you made your way to the front of the house, where the prince stood waiting. He was dressed impeccably, as always, and his expression was as composed as you remembered.

“Miss Hwang,” he greeted with a slight bow.

“Your Highness,” you replied, offering a polite nod.

“I trust you are ready?” he asked, though his tone made it clear that readiness was not optional.

With no room to argue, you stepped forward, and the two of you were soon seated in a carriage heading toward the nearby town. The ride was silent, save for the occasional creak of the wheels. You glanced out of the window, unsure of what to say—or if you should say anything at all.

Finally, Seonghwa broke the silence. “I take it this arrangement was not your idea either.”

You turned to him, surprised by his bluntness. “No, it wasn’t. But I assume it wasn’t yours, either.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You assume correctly. It seems our families are quite determined to ensure we... bond.”

“Bonding is difficult when both parties are here against their will,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact.

His smirk grew just slightly. “Indeed. Though I must admit, it is refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t mask their opinions with pleasantries.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “I could say the same, Your Highness. Most people would not dare admit to disliking an arrangement like this.”

“Most people are not in my position,” he replied simply.

The carriage came to a stop, and the footman opened the door. Seonghwa stepped out first, offering you his hand. Reluctantly, you took it, allowing him to help you down. The two of you stood at the entrance to the bustling town square, the lively atmosphere a stark contrast to the tense silence between you.

“This town is known for its markets,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the colorful stalls ahead. “I thought it might be... suitable for an outing.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Was that your idea, or your family’s?”

He paused, his gaze steady. “Does it matter?”

You didn’t answer, instead turning your attention to the market. The two of you walked side by side, the chatter and laughter of the townsfolk filling the air. Occasionally, Seonghwa would point out a stall or comment on a vendor’s goods, but your responses were short and polite.

At one point, he stopped in front of a flower vendor, his eyes scanning the vibrant array of blooms. “Do you have a favorite flower, Miss Hwang?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Not particularly.”

He picked up a small bouquet of white lilies, studying them for a moment before handing them to the vendor. “Then allow me to choose,” he said, his tone calm but firm.

You accepted the bouquet hesitantly, unsure of what to say. The gesture felt oddly personal, and you couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or annoyed.

As the outing continued, the initial stiffness between you began to ease—just slightly. By the time the sun began to set, the carriage ride back was not as silent as before. Though your exchanges were still brief, there was a newfound understanding between you, however faint it might have been.

When you arrived back at the Hwang household, Seonghwa escorted you to the door, his expression as composed as ever. “Thank you for indulging this outing, Miss Hwang. I hope it was not entirely unpleasant.”

You glanced at him, clutching the bouquet of lilies. “It was... tolerable,” you said, a hint of dry humor in your tone.

He inclined his head slightly, the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. “I shall take that as a success. Until next time.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving you standing at the door with the flowers in hand. As you watched the carriage disappear down the path, you couldn’t help but wonder what the next “arranged” meeting would bring.

You retreated to your room, eager for solitude. You placed the bouquet of white lilies on a small table near the window, their subtle fragrance filling the air as you sat on the edge of your bed.

Moments later, your door creaked open without so much as a knock. Seoyoon stepped in, her eyes immediately landing on the bouquet. A mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Well, well,” she began, closing the door behind her. “It seems the Crown Prince is quite the gentleman, isn’t he?”

You didn’t look up, reaching for the book on your bedside table. “If you’re here to tease me, save your breath. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, come now,” she said, flopping onto the chair near the window and picking up one of the lilies. “A prince gives you flowers, and you sit here sulking as if it were some great tragedy. Most girls would be over the moon!”

“You’re welcome to them if you’re so envious,” you replied dryly, flipping a page.

Seoyoon gasped theatrically, holding the lily to her chest. “How heartless! And here I thought you might finally soften up a little. Tell me, how did it go? Did he say anything romantic? Or was it all as cold and stiff as you?”

You shot her a glare over the top of your book. “It was... fine. He talked. I listened. That’s all there is to it.”

“‘Fine,’” she echoed, rolling her eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that? Most people would kill for a chance to speak with him, let alone be courted by him.”

“I’m not ‘most people,’” you replied, your voice flat.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “You didn’t thank him for the flowers, did you?”

Your silence was enough.

Seoyoon groaned, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re hopeless, truly. The least you could do is try to show some interest. He’s the Crown Prince, for goodness’ sake!”

Closing your book with a snap, you fixed her with a level stare. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Seoyoon. I didn’t ask for the flowers, the outing, or the marriage. If he wants to court someone, he can find someone who actually cares.”

Seoyoon sighed, her teasing demeanor softening slightly. “I know you didn’t ask for this, Y/N. But it’s happening, whether you like it or not. You could at least give him a chance. Who knows? He might surprise you.”

You, staring at the lilies with a faint frown, replied bluntly, “He looks like he doesn’t enjoy company himself. This whole arrangement is just as forced on him as it is on me.” You paused, your voice lowering. “I’ve been a burden to all of you long enough. Now, I’ll just be a burden to the royal family instead.”

Her brows knit together, and she crossed her arms, stepping closer to you. “Y/N, don’t say that. You’re not a burden.”

You let out a humorless laugh, finally looking up at her. “Am I not? Everyone in this house pushes me to be someone I’m not. To go out, to socialize, to act the part. And now, I’m being married off to a prince who probably thinks I’m as much of a nuisance as I think this whole situation is.”

Seoyoon crouched slightly so she could look directly into your eyes, her expression unusually serious. “You’re not a nuisance, and you’re not a burden. You’re just... different. And that’s not a bad thing.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter what I think, does it? I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for Father, for the family, for appearances. Isn’t that all I’ve ever done?”

Seoyoon’s lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but no words came out. She knew you were right, at least in part. Finally, she placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I won’t pretend to understand how you feel, but I do know this—whatever the reason for this marriage, it’s not because you’re a burden. You’re marrying a prince, Y/N. That means, whether you like it or not, someone sees your worth.”

You scoffed, but your gaze softened slightly. “Or they just see what’s convenient.”

Seoyoon straightened up and shook her head with a faint smile. “You’ll see, Y/N. Maybe he doesn’t look like the warmest person, but I doubt he’s as indifferent as you think. People like him don’t show their cards right away.”

“Or ever,” you muttered under your breath.

“Give him a chance,” she urged one last time, heading for the door. “And give yourself one too.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, you turned back to the lilies, their delicate beauty contrasting sharply with the heaviness in your chest. A burden or not, the path before you had been set. All that remained now was to walk it, whether you liked it or not.

The royal wedding was a grand affair, filled with splendor and elegance that you could hardly process. The intricate decorations, the endless sea of nobles in fine clothing, and the constant hum of polite conversation all blurred together in your mind. Through it all, you remained stoic, performing each ritual with quiet precision.

Seonghwa, as expected, was composed and regal throughout, his every action calculated and perfect. Yet there was something in his demeanor—something almost... softer than you’d expected.

When the final ritual was completed, and the two of you were officially declared husband and wife, the grand hall erupted into applause. You stood there, holding his hand lightly as tradition demanded, your expression unreadable.

It wasn’t until the two of you were seated at the head of the banquet table that Seonghwa’s façade shifted ever so slightly. Leaning closer, he asked in a low voice, “Are you comfortable, Miss Hwang?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “It’s Lady Park now,” you replied, your tone calm.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, yes. My apologies. Are you comfortable... Lady Park?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I am fine, Your Highness.”

He glanced at the feast before you, his voice quiet but insistent. “And the food? Is it to your liking?”

“It’s... more than sufficient,” you replied, unsure how else to respond.

For a moment, silence hung between you as you both turned your attention to the crowd of nobles mingling below. Then, out of nowhere, Seonghwa leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours. “See that man in the green coat near the pillar?” he whispered, his tone conspiratorial.

Your eyes followed his gaze to a portly man with a large mustache. “Yes?”

“That’s Lord Baek. He prides himself on his wine collection, yet he can’t tell the difference between a rare vintage and a common bottle of grape juice. It’s quite the running joke among the court.”

You glanced at him, unsure whether to laugh or remain indifferent. “And you’re telling me this because...?”

“Because,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, “you’ll hear him mention his wine at least three times tonight. Consider it a test of your patience.”

Despite yourself, a small smile ghosted across your lips. “Noted.”

He nodded, his expression still unreadable but his tone oddly warm. “And over there, by the orchestra—that’s Lady Seo. She once petitioned the court to create a holiday celebrating her dog’s birthday.”

This time, you couldn’t suppress a quiet chuckle. “You’re joking.”

“I assure you, I am not,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “The petition was, of course, denied.”

As the evening progressed, Seonghwa continued his whispered commentary, pointing out various nobles and sharing tidbits about them. His tone remained calm and steady, but there was a subtle playfulness in his words that made it feel almost like a private game between the two of you.

For the first time, the weight of the occasion felt a little less suffocating. While you remained stoic, you couldn’t deny that his unexpected warmth and attentiveness were... surprising.

When the banquet finally began to wind down, he leaned closer once more, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “I know this is overwhelming, Lady Park, but if it is any consolation, you’ve handled it with grace.”

You turned to him, meeting his steady gaze. “Thank you, Your Highness. Though I suspect you’ve handled it far more times than I ever will.”

He inclined his head slightly, his faint smile returning. “Perhaps. But it seems we’ll be handling it together now.”

The weight of his words lingered as the evening drew to a close, leaving you with an unexpected sense of companionship—however fragile it might have been.

The grand festivities had finally come to an end, and the palace halls grew quiet as the guests dispersed. Servants had escorted you and Seonghwa to the newly prepared royal chamber, its luxurious décor only adding to the weight of the day.

The large room was lit softly by golden sconces and candles, the warmth of the light contrasting with the coolness of your nerves. You stood in the center of the room, unsure what to do or say, your hands fidgeting slightly with the heavy jewelry draped over you.

Seonghwa, ever composed, closed the door behind him. For a moment, he stood silently, observing you with his usual unreadable expression. Then, stepping closer, he spoke in a tone that was softer than you expected.

“May I help you?”

You looked at him, startled. “With...?”

He gestured toward the intricate outer layers of your wedding dress and the heavy ornaments adorning your neck and wrists. “With this. I imagine it has been a long day for you.”

You hesitated, unsure whether to agree, but the weight of the jewelry was becoming unbearable. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “If you wish, Your Highness.”

A faint smile ghosted across his lips as he stepped behind you. “Turn around,” he instructed gently.

You complied, feeling his presence close behind you as his hands moved to unclasp the elaborate necklace around your neck. His movements were careful, precise, as though he feared hurting you.

“This must be heavier than it looks,” he murmured, setting the necklace aside on a nearby table.

“It is,” you replied quietly, your voice barely audible.

He moved to the bracelets next, unfastening them with ease. “I imagine it wasn’t easy to wear all this through the day.”

“It wasn’t, but I managed,” you said, your tone as stoic as ever.

“Of course you did,” he said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Next, his hands reached for the ties of your outer gown, his fingers working deftly to loosen them. You felt the fabric lighten as he removed the outer layer, draping it neatly over a chair.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, stepping back slightly. “It felt inappropriate to summon a maid for this.”

You turned to face him, surprised by his consideration. “It’s fine,” you said softly, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away.

He inclined his head slightly, his dark eyes studying you for a moment. “You must be tired. You should rest.”

“And you, Your Highness?” you asked, your tone polite but distant.

He smiled faintly, the expression barely reaching his eyes. “I’ll manage, as I always do.”

With that, he stepped away, giving you space to prepare for bed. Though the room was large and luxurious, the atmosphere between you was quiet, almost delicate. As you finally lay down, your mind swirled with thoughts of the day, of the marriage, and of the man who had, against your expectations, shown you an unexpected gentleness.

When Seonghwa finally settled into the space beside you, he didn’t say a word. Yet, the calmness in his demeanor seemed to ease some of the tension in the room. And though you still felt like strangers, for the first time, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. You lay on the grand bed, staring at the ornate canopy above, trying to will yourself to sleep. The day had been exhausting, yet your mind refused to settle. Beside you, Seonghwa’s steady breathing suggested he was equally restless.

Minutes passed in silence before his voice broke through the stillness, low and steady. “You’re not asleep either, are you?”

You turned your head slightly, catching the faint outline of his face in the dim light. “No,” you admitted. “Too much on my mind.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Understandable. Today was... a lot, even by royal standards.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it clearly. “Do you ever get used to it? The expectations, the attention, the... weight of it all?”

“Not entirely,” he replied honestly. “But you learn to carry it differently over time.”

There was a pause, and then he added, “Though I imagine this is harder for you. You didn’t grow up with it.”

You let out a soft sigh, your voice quieter now. “It’s overwhelming. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “You’ll find your place. It may take time, but you will.”

You turned to face him, his face now more visible in the faint glow of the firelight. “Why are you being so gentle with me?” you asked, your tone a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.

His lips curved into the faintest smile, one corner quirking up. “I’m introverted, not heartless.”

The unexpected honesty in his reply caught you off guard, and for the first time that day, a small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. “Fair point.”

He lay back down, his voice softer now. “I don’t see the point in making this harder than it has to be. We’re both here because of duty, not choice. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way to make it bearable.”

You considered his words, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. “I suppose that makes sense.”

After you murmured your agreement, Seonghwa shifted slightly, turning onto his side to face you. His dark eyes, steady and calm, met yours in the dim light.

“You should sleep,” he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of finality. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will bring its own demands.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the subtle warmth in his voice despite his usual reserved demeanor. “I could say the same to you,” you replied, your tone quieter now.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, barely visible in the low light. “I’ll sleep when you do. Consider it... a gesture of fairness.”

You didn’t argue, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to look away from him. The firelight cast faint shadows on his face, softening the sharpness of his features. For a moment, you wondered if the man who had seemed so cold and distant all day might have more to him than you had assumed.

“Goodnight, Lady Park,” he said, his voice low and steady, his eyes lingering on yours for a beat longer than necessary before he closed them.

You hesitated, then finally replied, “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

Turning onto your back, you stared up at the canopy once more. But this time, the weight of the day felt a little lighter, and though your thoughts still swirled, the warmth of his words lingered, eventually lulling you into a restless, yet strangely comforting sleep.

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains as you rose, the events of the previous day still weighing on your mind. After breakfast, you were introduced to your lady-in-waiting, a young woman named Eunji. She was polite and cheerful, eager to assist as she began organizing your dresses and jewelry in the royal wardrobe.

As she carefully laid out a selection of necklaces, her eyes lingered on one in particular—a delicate piece adorned with shimmering pearls and intricate goldwork.

“This one is especially beautiful,” she said softly, almost as though she hadn’t meant to voice her thoughts aloud.

You glanced at the necklace, then at her. “Do you like it?”

Her cheeks flushed as she quickly shook her head. “Oh, no, My Lady. It’s not my place to—”

You cut her off gently. “If you like it, you can keep it.”

Eunji froze, her eyes wide. “What? No, My Lady, I couldn’t possibly—His Highness would be furious if he found out—”

“He won’t,” you interrupted, your tone calm but firm. “And even if he does, I’ll deal with him.”

She hesitated, wringing her hands as she looked from you to the necklace. “But it’s too valuable... it wouldn’t be right.”

You sighed lightly, picking up the necklace and placing it in her hands. “Eunji, if I say it’s yours, then it’s yours. Consider it a gift.”

Her eyes filled with hesitation, but also gratitude. “My Lady, you’re too kind...”

“I insist,” you said, giving her a faint smile. “Besides, what’s the point of having all of this if it can’t bring someone a little happiness?”

After a moment of silence, she finally nodded, her fingers curling around the necklace. “Thank you, My Lady. I’ll treasure it.”

You gave her a small nod and returned to sorting through the rest of the items. Though you didn’t say it aloud, her joy over something so simple felt strangely fulfilling, a brief reprieve from the unfamiliar world you now found yourself navigating.

Later that afternoon, Seonghwa approached you as you sat in the study, quietly reading through a book. His footsteps were soft, but his presence was impossible to miss. Without preamble, he spoke, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of curiosity.

“I see you’ve gifted something to one of the servants.”

You looked up from your book, meeting his gaze. His face, as usual, betrayed little emotion, but there was no trace of anger there. “Yes,” you admitted evenly. “Are you mad?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. “It’s your belongings. Do whatever you wish with them.”

His words were simple, yet they carried an air of reassurance that you hadn’t expected.

He paused briefly, glancing toward the window before continuing. “By the way, I noticed you’ve organized your belongings in my room quite efficiently. Impressive.”

You blinked, your calm exterior faltering just slightly. “Should I... remove them?” you asked hesitantly, unsure if he found the arrangement intrusive.

Seonghwa turned his gaze back to you, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “No,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “This room, this house—they’re yours now. You can do whatever you want here.”

For a moment, his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just giving you permission to arrange your belongings; he was offering you a sense of ownership, of belonging, in a world that still felt foreign to you.

You nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. “Thank you,” you murmured, returning your attention to your book, though your thoughts now lingered on his unexpected generosity.

Seonghwa didn’t say anything more. He simply gave a faint nod and walked away, leaving you with a strange sense of comfort and the quiet realization that, perhaps, this new life wouldn’t be as lonely as you had feared.

The days in the palace continued, a quiet routine settling between you and Seonghwa, interrupted only by the occasional royal event or meeting. You had grown accustomed to the rhythms of royal life, though the sense of unfamiliarity still lingered in the corners of your mind. The grand halls, the soft whispers of servants, the unspoken expectations—they all seemed so far removed from the life you had once known.

One afternoon, as you sorted through your tasks, you hesitated for a moment before turning to Seonghwa, who was seated at his desk, reading through a pile of royal documents.

“Seonghwa,” you began, your voice tentative, “I was wondering if I could have a little money. I need it for... something.”

He glanced up from his papers, his gaze sharp as always, but this time, there was a trace of something softer behind his eyes. He studied you for a moment, and then, it hit him—the realization that you still seemed uncertain, still hesitant when it came to making decisions, even small ones.

He set down his papers, his voice quieter, almost gentle as he addressed you.

“You still ask for permission, don’t you?” he said, a subtle sadness creeping into his words.

You froze, not quite understanding what he meant. “I... I just don’t want to overstep.”

Seonghwa shook his head, standing up from his desk. “This is your house now. It’s your life, your choices. And,” he paused, walking over to you with a soft expression, “my money is your money. You don’t need permission for anything.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity, as though he were explaining something basic to a child. And for a brief moment, you felt a warmth in your chest—a quiet understanding that perhaps, in his own way, Seonghwa was offering you a sense of freedom, something you had never truly known in this new world.

“You can do whatever you want,” he continued, his voice softer now. “The money, the house, everything. It’s yours. Don’t ask for permission again.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the softness in his tone, the genuine care that laced his words. Slowly, you nodded, the nervous tension in your shoulders easing. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still held a certain warmth. “You don’t need to thank me for that. I’m just reminding you of something you’ve already earned.”

You felt a strange comfort in his words, the weight of them sinking into your heart. It was a small moment, a simple exchange, but somehow it made this life, this strange new world you were trying to navigate, feel just a little more like home.

For the first time since childhood, since stepping into the palace and the unfamiliar life it held, you felt something you hadn’t realized you were missing: importance. You were no longer just a piece in someone else’s game, a mere addition to a royal family that was bound by duty and expectation. Seonghwa’s words—his reminder that this house, this life, was as much yours as it was his—had cracked open something inside you.

Without thinking, your arms moved instinctively, wrapping tightly around him. His presence, his warmth, and the unexpected kindness of his words had unraveled something deep inside you, something you hadn’t let yourself feel before: a sense of belonging.

Seonghwa froze for a moment, clearly startled by the sudden embrace. His body stiffened, unsure of how to react to the closeness, the softness in your hold. You could feel his breath catch slightly, his posture rigid as though he were trying to figure out whether to push you away or to let the moment pass. But you held on, the need to feel this sense of connection overwhelming any reservations you had.

“I... I’m sorry,” you muttered, realizing only then that you were clinging to him, your face pressed against his chest.

For a long, tense moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt thick, as though both of you were holding your breath. Then, slowly, you felt Seonghwa’s arms move around you—hesitant at first, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to the warmth of your embrace. But when he did finally wrap his arms around you, the touch was gentle, almost tender, as though he was grounding himself in this unspoken moment.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured quietly into your hair, his voice low and steady. There was an unfamiliar softness in it, a rare vulnerability that he seldom allowed to show. “You’re not a burden, you know.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the knot in your chest loosening. His words, so simple yet so profound, made your heart flutter. You had been carrying the weight of so many expectations for so long, always trying to be what was needed, always trying to do what was right. But here, in his arms, you felt for the first time like you mattered—not for what you could offer, but for who you were.

“I just... I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid to speak the truth out loud. “I don’t know how to navigate this life. It feels... so different.”

Seonghwa’s grip on you tightened slightly, not out of necessity but of understanding. “You’re not alone in this, you know. I’m here. I’ll help you find your way.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warm and comforting. You didn’t need to say anything more. You simply held on, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade. There were no royal expectations, no duty or obligations weighing down on you. There was just Seonghwa, just the feeling of being held, of being seen.

When he finally pulled back, his hands lingered at your sides, a hesitant gesture as if he weren’t ready to completely release the closeness you had just shared. His gaze met yours, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of care, an unspoken connection between the two of you that neither of you had acknowledged until now.

“You’re important,” he said softly, his voice unwavering. “More than you know.”

And in that moment, you loved this feeling, you believed him.

[fxrheisenn]

Andrus Laansalu talked about making Disco Elysium at EKA (Estonian Academy of Arts)

"Initially, the church wasn't a focal point. There were certain characters that needed to visit this location, and I asked, "Seriously, what do we have in our church?" The others replied, "Nothing at all. Our church is completely bare—just a wheel, really. It's quite basic."

That's when I decided to unleash my creativity in the design. For example, they chose to install a glass structure at the top of the church to create a reflective surface. It was like placing an optical clock up there. Therefore, one of the most crucial aspects of designing the church was ensuring the lighting was just right to create the desired atmosphere."

"Let me show you an example of Baroque architecture, which is rich in detail. We're also designing the interior of the church based on large cathedrals. However, the foundation you use might not yield the expected results, because the church itself doesn't require such intricate details. Sometimes, it's about simplifying the design."

"I used Articy for the initial scriptwriting of Disco Elysium. The image only represents a tiny fraction of the text and choice variables involved. This system was also the reason I eventually abandoned the project after a year of outlining the script and shifted my focus to becoming a sound designer. My mind struggled to keep up with the dynamic graphic rules, but fortunately, a more talented writer took over afterward."

"In terms of sound design, it's essential to develop different layers to bring out the charm of the church as a cohesive space. Although this represents only a small portion of the overall design, each layer actually requires a significant amount of time to compose the whole....... Whenever there's a shift or a change due to the dialogue itself, you need to adjust the background sounds. Each time you modify the details in the dialogue, I have to refine the background audio, ensuring that these elements build upon each other like an intricate layer of work."

"It's funny how many scenes involve characters getting smacked in the face. My job was to recreate those, so I locked myself in the bathroom with a recorder and hit my forehead until it turned red.

As a sound designer, I really dig those unsettling, drill-like sounds. So, I mixed in creepy lectures, metal scraping, moans, and cries of pain—because I just love that stuff! (laughs)

Players will be moving through all kinds of areas, so it's super important to make the sound transitions feel natural, trying to create a more immersive vibe in certain spaces.

With all the scenes featuring big cranes, you can hear them from far away, and I wanted to capture that eerie ringing in your ears. That's going to be a thing throughout most of the game. I've found ways to really mess with players while they're playing!"

"I've come across a lot of old objects (like phones and radios) that I needed to perfectly replicate the sounds. I started to become a bit of a hoarder, buying up different models of old phones whenever I found one to add to my collection. The sound effects I can simulate from them are really impressive."

"Some of the devices don't actually exist in real life—just a mix of architecture and tech. When I need to create sound effects, I first look for something similar that exists in our world, then I try to simulate what the sound and appearance of that thing might have been like a century ago.

Towards the end of the game, there's a character carrying a fuel canister. We needed the sound of the canister, so we dug one up from our garage—it had been sitting there since it was five! I realized this would make the sound perfect. So, it had been there for 50 years, and after 40 years, it finally found its purpose.

In some places, I needed unique sound waves, and recreating them was a real headache until one day I happened to walk by a swimming pool and stumbled upon an old wartime torpedo. You can rotate the torpedo's probe, and it slowly rises up, like a proud zombie head. The sounds it made were exactly what I needed!"

🙋How did you manage to get funding?

"Well, since we're in Estonia, you just need to know a wealthy person. You don't need five people—just two who can network, hang out together, and convince them to keep investing! (laughs) Back then, we constantly ran out of money and would tell them, 'Oops, looks like we spent it all! Can you invest a bit more?' That's how we made it through!"

🙋How did you all come together to make the game?

"Luck. It usually doesn't happen this way, and that's the key difference. It has to be. If not, you couldn't create a game of this scale - well, I mean in terms of budget. But creatively, Estonia definitely has writers and artists who can pull it off. With such a small population, there are a lot of quirky folks who are good friends. We were really lucky, though - lots of fortunate circumstances came together. It brought the right people together, allowing those talented fools to collaborate with us. They had experience but hadn't tackled projects of this magnitude before. So yeah, luck is pretty important!"

Lecture experience shared by 白兔YIYANG SUN on 小红书, reposted & translated by me with her permission.

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Two

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Suggestive themes, mention of rape, female masturbation, second hand embarrassment

Masterlist

You looked at the dishes piled up in the sink, a wave of nausea hitting you. A part of you was glad, comforted by the idea of having humans around yet you couldn’t shake the substantial feeling of dread.

What if they killed you? Or raped you? Or both? What would happen to your body? Would you turn? Would you just decompose and hopefully move onto a better place? Your mind thumped against the thick walls of your skull before you felt a hand placed on your shoulder. A hand clamped your shoulder.

“You ‘lright?” Price said, a comforting smile adorned on his face before you shrugged his hand off.

“Just fine,” you reply, a tight smile on your face, “I’ll show you the bedrooms.” They followed you upstairs, the pounding of their boots against the floor giving you a headache. You led them to a bedroom, the subtle smell of dust lingering as you took in the unused space. There was a double bed, a mint green quilt with pink roses adorning it, two pillows both placed neatly on either side. “You can figure out who goes where,” you say, pushing the door open from across the hall.

You walk into the second guest room, a queen sized bed splat in the middle, a dark blue quilt tucked in, a row of grey pillows furnishing the top. “There’s a bathroom down the hall to the right. The plumbing still works somehow but don’t over-flush. You can have a shower but the water will be cold,” you say, attempting to sound intimidating as you avert your gaze.

“Thank you,” Price smiled, stepping inside the room.

Gaz and Soap offered you a squeeze on the shoulder quickly, a polite thank you leaving their mouth. Ghost however, sorted just stared at you, blinking slowly before turning towards the first room.

You find yourself thinking as you brushed Cecil, his grey fur shedding quickly as you stroked his behind, whispering small praises towards the large animal.

What if you tell them to leave and they don’t? What if they take over your house and kick you out? What if-

You stop yourself, rubbing your head in your hands as you lead the horses back to the barn, preparing dinner for the other animals before locking the door securely. You finished up outside, ensuring the crops were well watered before heading up the porch steps and through the back door.

Gaz was sat on the couch, a book in his hands as he looked up. “I hope you don’t mind, found it on the shelf.”

You kept your face straight but nodded, “It’s fine.” Truth be told, it was as comforting to have people around, the same as it was fearful. You knew that if they tried anything, they would win, no matter what gun you hold.

Time seems to be going quicker as you prepare a salad with some grown vegetables with bread. You were glad that your father was a chef, always teaching you how to make things from scratch. You didn’t like to dwell, hoping that somehow your family were immune too. Maybe one day, you would see them again. Maybe.

You placed the loaf of dough inside a tray before lighting the woodburner and placing it inside. You hummed softly to yourself as you heard footsteps against the wooden stairs. “Feeding us again, bonnie?”

“Only if it’ll get you guys to leave me alone,” you reply, not bothering to look at him. You hear his tongue click softly as he shuffles over to you.

“Y’ need help?”

You lowered the knife, gesturing for him to take over as you step outside, sitting on the old porch chair as you tuck your legs up, arms holding them in place as you stare out, the hues of the sun disappearing as the night begins to consume it.

As night falls, you head inside, hands reaching into the burner to grab the bread as you let it cool. You looked at the large bowl of vegetables tossed together, the men gathered around the never-used dining table, chattering amongst each other.

You let them sit for a while before calling out. It was entertaining watching the four grown men subtly walk faster than the other to get a plate first. You cut the bread, steam gauging out of each slice before you sat down at the dining table, fingers nervously fiddling with the metal cutlery.

They sat down around you, looking at you occasionally as you ate. “Listen, we do appreciate-“ Price began before you cut him off.

“You’ve told me. You can stay for the night but you’re off tomorrow. I prefer living alone.”

Price nods as the others look down, the sound of lettuce and carrot crunching filling the awkward void. As they finished up, you locked the doors and shut the blinds, the gentle hum of the fire comforting you before you head upstairs.

Your eyes flicker between pages of a book as you nestle in bed. You were clad in a sheer nightgown, your usual pyjama set hanging to dry outside. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read. While cliche, for a while everything felt normal when absorbing yourself between lines of paper, like you were simply escaping reality.

A gentle knock sounded on your door as you looked up. Price stood there, gentle smile on his face as he asked to come in.

“What is it?” You answered.

“I know I’ve said it, but thank you. Even if it was just for a day, it’s helped us a lot. Not many people, especially a woman alone, would let four men into her home… not during a time like this.”

Your body tensed for a second before it relaxed. You let out a soft sigh, placing the book on the side as you stood up to look at him closer. There was no use in lying, he was very attractive. His stern looking face covered with a bushy beard and moustache, blue eyes staring intensely under thick brows. He was older, the evidence of faint wrinkles indented on his forehead, yet his body was still in shape.

You were never a prude, but also never pushed for unnecessary encounters with the opposite sex. You weren’t an ugly girl, your features working well together, especially when you weren’t scowling.

“I-“ you begin, trying to think of what to say, “I appreciate you saying that. You guys are the first… real people I’ve come across since this all began. I know how difficult it is. And I suppose it wasn’t bad to reencounter civilisation.”

Price lets out a shallow laugh, hand coming up to squeeze at your shoulder as he looks at you. You don’t shrug him away this time, allowing the grip to scold your skin with prickling heat. You didn’t speak, simply watching him back through hooded lashes.

You felt your nipples pebble, the cold air brushing through as you remembered the warmth of your bed. You watch his gaze flicker down to your chest, sucking in a silent breath before he looked back up at you.

Had it been 296 days for him too without a woman? Had it been 296 days for all of them without a woman?

You didn’t shy away from his gaze, heat spreading across your body as you felt the timid intimidation of a low throb in your pussy. You offered him a small smile before gripping the door. “Goodnight, John.”

“Night, love.”

You felt like a fucking teenager, with your gown bunched up at your waist, hands timorous as they softly rolled the sensitive bud in a circular motion, gentle pants spilling from your lips. Everything felt more real, more heightened, probably from the lack of touching down there for months.

Dipping your fingers into your slit, legs spread and needy, you could feel the antagonising slick tease your hole, pooling at the crevice of your ass. This wet over a random man? You should feel ashamed, should, but you don’t. The light sound of squelching lit your room as you plunged a desperate finger into your heat, a rough gasp leaving your throat as you lie back further.

You tease yourself, left hand reaching down to entertain your neglected clit as another finger braced your entrance. Did it always feel like this? Did my fingers always not feel like enough? Like they needed something more?

A wanton moan stained the room as you thrashed your head against the pillow, sticky fingers just reaching that gooey spot inside you, swift thrusts causing your eyes to roll back.

You felt like a virgin again, pussy barely able to take two fingers and minimal thrusts before the coil in your stomach began to form.

Would it be so bad to call him in? Soak his beard in your cunt? Feel what it’s like to take two fingers properly? Maybe more?

You felt like you had a balloon growing inside you, every swift movement expanding it more, ready to pop, ready to let your body release, ready to feel satisfi-

“F’cking hell-“

You looked at the sudden burst of sound, eyes darting over to your least favourite in the house, visible crinkles in his dirty mask. His eyes visibly darting to your heat, taking in your fingers stuffed inside, the slickness coating them.

You squealed, orgasm barely washing over you as you twitched, pulling your fingers out abruptly and straightening your nightgown.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” You screeched, voice cracking as you wobbled to the door and slammed it shut, body leaning against it as you panted. You stilled, listening to hear his footsteps walk over but the comforting sound never came.

[dannyriccsystem]

Omg you know what would be so funny, the 2025 rookies or current grid doing the tell on me TikTok trend with reader! I know the trend passed, but I still occasionally get those videos.Maybe some of them stand on readers feet bc their reactions would be funny!

If you don’t feel comfortable with this I 100% understand, but thank you in advance regardless💜

IS YOU GON’ TELL ON ME?

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

Summary: “Tell On Me” trend with the 2025 rookies + the papaya boys because I love them!

Warnings: Y/N usage, suggestive lyrics and jokes, one of them accidentally gets hit in the nuts 😕, not proofread

Featuring: LN4, IH6, JD7, KA12, LL30, OP81, OB87,

Sorry this one took forever! I’m finally getting to actually finish my requests, which ARE open! Check here for more!

Jack Doohan is such a cutie but I miss his hair so I wrote him pre-buzz!!

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

“I’m liking this angle.” Y/N immediately rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s suggestive comment. If she was on the same level as him, she might smack his chest and tell him to knock it off. However, right now that was rather difficult.

Only hours ago Y/N had been begging Lando to participate in a trend with her. He refused, insisting there were much more fun trends to do, but finally gave in when he saw how excited she was. One person was meant to stop on the other’s legs, propped against a wall, while recording them from above. Then, they’d drop the phone and the person on the bottom would record the one on top. All while lip syncing some ridiculous audio.

“Quit moving your legs so much, I’m gonna fall!” She criticized him in a joking manner, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she reached into her pocket for her phone. She did a quick search of the audio, selected it, and then hit record. The room was dark, allowing her to use her flash to illuminate his handsome face.

He lipsynced the words, “If I beat that pussy up is you gon’ tell on me?” Just as the song said. Right then she was supposed to drop him the phone so he could capture her. That’s what was supposed to happen, but instead it landed flat on his nose. He jolted from the impact, causing Y/N to topple over and land on top of him.

“I told you not to move!” She laughed.

“You dropped it on my face!”

ISACK HADJAR - IH6

Everyone knows about Isack’s obsession with TikTok lip sync videos. He posted at least one a day, his specialty being Kardashian videos. And mind you, those were just the videos he posted. Y/N was sure that the amount of drafts he had harbored away was probably insane.

But, this idea? This was hers. He just happened to be the right person to ask, because of course he wouldn’t say no to such a proposal. Make a lip-syncing video with his girlfriend? Abso-fucking-lutely. Name a time and place, he’d be there. He sat in the corner of their kitchen on his back, his muscular legs in the air and propped against the wall. With very wobbly balance, Y/N stood on top of his feet.

“Okay, hand me the phone,” She laughed, barely able to stand still. Isack laughed along with her, until he realized he had to reach up and hand her something. With a focused expression, he tried to keep his legs still whilst simultaneously reaching up to hand her the phone. Sucess! Y/N’s hands gripped the phone, and Isack could relax against the floor.

“This is a long walk for a short drink of water,” He pointed out. Y/N just shrugged, and proceeded to hit record.

JACK DOOHAN - JD7

“I don’t know if my PR team will approve of this.” Jack chuckled, trying to keep his legs completely still while Y/N stepped atop of them. It took her a few tries, but eventually she managed to balance herself on his feet. She giggled softly, both of her hands on the wall to ensure her own safety.

“Well, this can just be for me then! Nobody else has to see.” She was grateful her boyfriend was an athlete, otherwise they’d be on a time crunch. Hey, maybe this could be a future leg workout for him. Who’s to say? “I’m already up here, pleaaase?”

“Hey, I never said no.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair to perfect his own style. After prepping himself, he nodded. “Okay, I’m ready. You can hit record whenever.” Y/N opened the app and found the audio saved to her favorites. She clicked record, and point the camera at him.

He lip synced with a big grin, and when it was time to swap, she dropped the phone, and started to mouth the words herself. After reviewing the footage, they both decided to keep it buried in Y/N’s drafts. The lyrics were too much, and the angles were a lot.

KIMI ANTONELLI - KA12

“DON’T DROP ME,” Kimi squeaked in his heavy accent, his voice rising an octave as he shouted with fear. His hands were clawing at the walls, looking for any sort of stability to keep himself balanced there. Y/N only laughed, causing her legs to shake more.

They probably should have swapped positions, but there was something humorous about him standing atop her feet. He swayed, arms out to keep himself steady. They were both against a wall with Y/N on her back, legs in the air. Kimi stood atop her feet.

“I’m not gonna drop you! Just hit record!” She muttered through fits of laughter, breathing in heavily to try and keep her composure. Only Kimi could make her laugh so hard. He pulled the phone out, and nearly fell just doing that. Without even thinking about it, she shifted.

Suddenly, he was on top of her. It happened so quickly— One twitch of the leg and he toppled over with ease. They both laughed as Kimi rolled off of her and onto his back, both of them lying there in their harmonious laughter.

LIAM LAWSON - LL30

“How do I even get into this position?” Y/N questions as she reviews the video once more. It was her idea to participate in the stupid trend, but now she was beginning to regret it. The two seemed to simultaneously agree that Liam would be the one on the bottom, since his leg strength was a lot better than hers.

“Okay, here.” He extended both of his arms and brought his knees to his chest. “Step on my feet, hold my hands, and I’ll slowly lift you.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his current predicament, but followed his instructions. Y/N carefully stepped up onto his feet and held his hands, barely able to balance as is.

Slowly, he extended his legs and she held on to the wall. A silent cheer passed over them as they reached the peak, both of their legs fully extended. It was… Awkward, to say the least. “Okay, now-” Before he could finish, Y/N let out a yelp as she came toppling forward.

Unfortunately for Liam, her knee landed right between his legs. He shouted with pain, rolling over onto her side. Half-laughing, half-groaning. “Babe- Ow?!”

She knelt beside him, laughing her ass off. “OH MY GOD- I’m so sorry!”

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

If anyone ever doubted that Oscar Piastri loved his girlfriend, he’d show them this video they’re making right now. Tell me, does a man who hates his girlfriend agree to film some stupid trend with her, just because her eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea. No, certainly not. How about a man who is currently lying on his back, supporting said girl on his feet as she explains the whole concept to him? Does he hate his girlfriend?

I think not.

“Okay, so… I’m gonna point the camera at you, and you’re gonna mouth the words,” She explained as if it was obvious. “And then-”

“Wait, what words? You didn’t tell me the lyrics,” he reminded gently, staring at her with that signature ‘you’re so stupid but I love you’ expression.

“Oh!” She grinned. Together, they seemed to have perfect balance. Even an awkward position like this felt natural. “If I beat that pussy up is you gon’ tell on me,” She sang very poorly. Oscar tilted his head, one brow raised.

“Really? That’s the lyric? I might get fined for this.”

“It’s for a good cause. Anyway! Afterwards, I’m gonna drop the phone and you have to catch it, turn it around, and then record me singing my part.”

So, in summary. If anyone tells you Oscar Piastri doesn’t love his girlfriend, you can confidently tell them that’s not true. He’s willing to walk the earth’s surface again and again for her.

OLIVER BEARMAN - OB87

“OW-” Y/N cried out sharply, followed by a giggle at the foolish mistake. Yeah, pro tip. If your boyfriend has long legs, don’t have him full send this trend. Y/N confidently stood atop his feet, using the wall for support. She balanced quite well, but the issue had yet to come.

With her okay, she allowed him to push his legs up. Issue? Her head hit the ceiling. With worry, her carefully lowered her, helping her get down. “Y/N, ohmygodI’msosorry, are you okay?!” She laughed as she nodded, her hands cradling the spot she hit.

“Yes, oh my God— Yes, it didn’t actually hurt that bad it just shocked me.” After getting confirmation she was okay, Ollie laughed with her, resting his forehead against her shoulder in an exasperated manner.

“I thought you were seriously hurt for a second!”

“Well for all you know I could have been.”

Yeah. Video was never posted. Was never even made.

[thragedys]

Midnight Visitor

Sol x Reader

Synopsis: Thanks to the takeout you ate last night, the effects of food poisoning from poor catering have finally kicked in, hitting you when you least expected it. To ensure you’re properly cared for, Sol takes the duty of watching over you.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: Gender neutral reader, sick reader, Sol being soft, affection, trespassing, jealous Sol (+ more!)

After undergoing a series of nausea and intense dizziness, Sol insisted on walking you home despite being out in the city with him and Hyugo. It was as though all life was drained from your face, the only support you had while walking was Sol’s arms holding you upright. 

Food poisoning… Should’ve never eaten from that takeout place with less than three stars in their reviews.

Grabbing the key from your bag, he unlocks the door and escorts you inside, directing you to your bedroom while you whine and hold your face in your hands. Even the slightest tilt of your head would send you spiralling sideways, a recipe for disaster as your stomach decides to conjure its own storm.

Inside the kitchen, Sol spots a paper bag. The logo of the company which made you unwell is there, presented in a large font. Retrieving his phone, he snaps a picture of the logo, alongside the contact details printed on the back. He’ll deal with that later. Currently, he has more important things to tend to. You.

Rummaging through your cupboards, he successfully finds some medication that will ease the aches in your stomach. As for your dizzy head, the best thing he can do for you is close your curtains and encourage you to get rest. Fluid intake is also vital, it’ll aid dehydration. Returning to your side with a glass of water and some pills, Sol places them on your bedside table and sits on the edge of your bed.

“Are you okay? Let me feel your head.” Sol sighs, placing his palm flat on your forehead.

“Sol…” You whine, one hand remaining on your stomach and the other clutching his free hand.

“You’re not that hot, yet. Leave your window open—”

“No! No, I can’t! You’ve seen the news…”

“You will be fine, I promise. Fresh air will make you feel a lot better.” 

“I’m sorry for burdening you with this…”

“Don’t be. I’d rather it be me taking care of you than anyone else.”

“I’ll buy you a—”

“No. Sit down.”

“Ugh, Sol—”

“Rest.”

“I’ll buy you a thank-you gift when I’m better…” You mumble, pouting at him as he leans against the doorframe.

“Send me a text or call me if you need me. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”

“Text… Call… Yeah.” You repeat, rubbing your eyes while burying your head into the pillow.

“Don’t forget, take your medicine.”

“I’m gonna take it… Now.” You reach over and drop the pills into your mouth, then take a small sip of the drink to wash them down.

“Goodnight. I hope you feel better soon.”

Before leaving, he waited until he heard your breathing pattern change, signifying that you were asleep. Alongside the medication, he slipped in a sleeping pill, its dosage strong enough to keep you out for the correct amount of time. 

As if he would leave you alone so easily while you’re sick.

Right now, however, his main concern is dealing with the business that made his soulmate ill, after all, what good is a company in operation if its only achievement is casting a vast majority of its customers extremely unwell upon eating their cheaply sourced food?

Upon arriving back at his apartment, he stripped from his usual attire and threw on a set of his darkest clothes, a matching surgical mask to cover what remained exposed on his face. A complaint wouldn’t be enough, they clearly racked up enough of them online but did not change a singular thing about their selfish ways.

It was just after midnight when the streets were soundless and the civilians were tucked away inside of the safety of their homes. Strolling down the deserted sidewalk, Sol stops outside of a building, comparing the logo to the one saved in his photo album. A perfect match. 

Subtly, Sol explored the perimeter, tracing the outline of the building before returning to the front. It’s no wonder why all of their customers become unwell, the amount of trash that remains behind the building is piled up, much taller than him. 

There is no point in teaching those who do not wish to learn. An ignorant mind reflects an ignorant heart. Only the careless would profit from neglect like this.

Flicking his lighter on, he tosses it to the ground before walking away, the flicker of flames igniting in the distance as he glances back. It won’t be long before a passerby calls the fire department, but that’s no concern to him. When the authorities see the state the building was in previously, they could rule it out as the impact of an unkempt business.

His feet led him back to your apartment, the open window a much easier entrance for him as he climbed up. After all those locks you’ve bought in the past, he’s surprised you never gave up your safety protocols. Securing his footing, he creeps back into your bedroom, kneeling beside you as you rest peacefully in your slumber.

You are so beautiful. Every feature of your face was crafted with tender hands. He traces over your lips with his index finger, slowly drawing his hand back.

“Hi, Pumpkin.” He whispers, leaning in to press his lips against your cheek. “I’m going to check your temperature again.”

This time, Sol uses the back of his hand. Thankfully, he would say you are around average, partially a slight bit higher than usual.

“Good… You’re going to be okay. You might be sick tomorrow but I’ll come over to make sure you aren’t alone.”

“You like having me here, don’t you? You feel so safe, so loved.” He strokes your hair similar to how you would pet a fragile animal. As his hand ventures under the blanket, he comes in contact with something.

“You still sleep with the plushie I bought for you? You…” Sol’s smile expands, his cheeks lighting a subtle shade of pink. “You must love it. Or me. I hope it’s me.”

In your sleep, you moan, your body beginning to shift. He strokes the side of your arm, calming you down as you endure whatever dream is unfolding. After a while, your body stops with its relentless motions and goes still again.

“This is our special time together. It’s my favourite part of the day.” Sol’s lips curve up, his eyes filled with adoration as he clutches your plushie close to his chest. “I’ll make it smell like me again, don’t worry.”

“Mph…” Your lips moved, but he couldn’t decipher the sound that left them.

“Hm?” Sol pinches your cheek, a procedure to test if you’re awake or not. 

You must be mumbling to yourself since you didn’t respond to his touch.

“I’m guessing you missed smelling me then. That’s cute.” When he finished rubbing the plushie against his flesh and clothing, he tucked it under your chin. “You’re cute.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know?” Sol mumbles, sinking onto the bed beside you, fingers toying with your hair.

“He would never do the things I have done for you.”

“I know you prefer me. It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it right now. I can wait.” He rolls onto his side, your face now in view. 

“You make it hard for me to leave every single time…” His pitch was low, an almost pouty tone as he nuzzled his head against your chest. Lifting your limbs, he wraps them around himself, drawing the blanket over both of your bodies this time.

“I’ll just stay like this for a few more minutes… Then I have to go.” Sol closes his eyes, the therapeutic beats of your heart are a soothing melody to his ears.

…

Sunlight filters in through the curtains, a bitter breeze hitting your clammy skin. Compared to yesterday, you’re feeling a lot better, the only thing remaining is the dull ache in your stomach. Rubbing your eyes, you squeeze your plushie, only to hear a strange noise. 

Last time you checked, this plushie shouldn’t be able to communicate. Shooting your eyes open, you find a mess of green hair sprawled out on top of you. 

“Sol?” You rub your eyes again, unsure if what is in front of you is reality or a fever dream.

“Yeah…?” Sol mumbles in response, his body shifting. Then he goes still, springing up from his previous position. Shit.

“I thought you left last night.” 

“After you took your medicine, you asked me to stay. You went out like a light but I made sure that you were okay.”

“Did you have this on yesterday?” You tug at his hoodie. “I’ve never seen you wear clothes like this before.”

“These are my comfy clothes, that’s why. I keep the hoodie in my backpack.”

“Oh…” That food poisoning must have hit you hard to leave you so delirious. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“…?” Sol flutters his eyelashes while your hands cup his cheeks, drawing him near. Your lips plant a peck on his forehead, a suiting reward since he went out of his way for you.

“Ah… You shouldn’t have to thank me… It’s what anyone would do.” Sol rubs the back of his neck, a flush spreading over his face.

“I feel sick. Like I’m going to throw up.”

“I’m not surprised. Let’s get you to the bathroom. Get all of that food out of your system for good.” Sol stands first, offering his hand to assist you to your feet.

“I don’t like vomiting.” You mope, refusing to move despite your stomach cramping further.

“But it has to come out. You’ll be okay, I’m right here.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it gently.

The only option is to get up if you don’t want to clean your bedsheets. Swiftly shuffling between rooms, you kneel before the toilet and allow your body to regulate itself, removing the foreign pathogens that invaded your meal. Sol rubbed your back, making the process easier. There wasn’t a lot of retching, but you still felt that familiar burn in your throat when you were finished.

“Any more?” Sol pats your upper back and you shake your head.

“I’ll cook for you this time. No more buying from trashy food places.”

“But they’re cheap…” You puff air into your cheeks, taking your toothbrush which he handed you to remove the bitter taste from your mouth.

“My meals are free. Don’t be ashamed to ask.” Sol takes a final glance at you before heading back to your kitchen, scouring the cupboards in search of something to work with.

For you, he would do anything. Make anything. Even if it’s from scratch. No matter the simplicity or complication of a request you have, he will ensure that you get what you ask for. You don’t deserve anything less. If only you were aware of the lengths he has gone and is still willing to go for you.

[snail-day]

Happy Friday! Today feels very sleepy so here's:

Yan!JJK Men x Sleepy Nonchalant!Reader

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

Tw: yandere behaviors, kidnapping, slight noncon/dubcon, somno, mentions of murder. MDNI.

At first, Gojo genuinely didn’t get it. He’s talking, and people love when he talks, he’s charismatic, funny, the strongest, so why are your eyes fluttering shut mid-sentence? Watching you with growing irritation, white brows furrowing, as your head tilts back into the plush pillow, your breathing going soft, right in the middle of his story about a fight the first years had.

A huff of a breath, that teasing lilt shifting to annoyance, “Are you seriously sleeping right now?”

But the longer he watches you, the harder it is to stay annoyed. You're not tense. You're not trying to escape. You're just... soft. Relaxed. Wrapped in his blankets, lying in the bed he picked out for you. The first time he returns from a mission to find you exactly where he left you, tangled up in his hoodie and the mountain of plush pillows he bought for you, it hits him, you must trust him. Or maybe you're just too sleepy to care, but that makes his chest ache in a whole new way, rather would assume you're actually just in love with him too.

You always greet him the same way. Barely awake. Raspy little voice coming out from under the blankets. “Welcome home…”

He climbs in next to you without any sort of hesitation. Wraps his lanky arms around you, face pressed into your neck. Clinging onto your warmth, pressing a few kisses here and there. He doesn’t care if you can’t stay awake through his stories anymore. He just wants to feel you melt into him. You try, sometimes, asking sleepy questions about his day, but your eyes always start drooping again.

He thinks it’s adorable. His sweet little darling can’t even stay up, but still tries to care.

Though, in bed, it’s a different story.

“Come on,” he groans, pouting against your throat, nipping the soft skin, leaving bites and wine red hues. “I'm making you feel good, aren't I? The least you can do is stay awake and moan for me, c’mon, baby, pleeease.”

All whiny and desperate, his hips snap harder, just to pull more sounds from your sleepy little self. Watching how your brows furrow, the way your mouth parts with soft, high whimpers before you start drifting again, lashes fluttering, body going loose as he presses your knees to your chest. Honestly it's a game for him at this point, how deep can he push you until you actually wake up.

But even when you go all quiet again, eyes slipping shut, he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re warm and pretty and pliant underneath him. Not when he’s this close, so deep inside you, clinging to every twitch of your body.

A free hand of his trembles just slightly as the warm palm settles on your waist. Leaning down with the other, giving your cheek a few lazy, gentle pats, ensuring you're still coherent enough.

Your lips part to protest, barely more than a sleepy murmur and he’s already kissing you. Shoving his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your tired little whine as he thrusts deep, grinding into you as his third load spills inside. A soft groan against your lips, voice cracked and breathless. “Shhh… it’s fine, sleepyhead. You can sleep through the next few rounds.”

Geto was just so used to obedience, submission, fear. So when he caught you nodding off mid-sermon, he nearly lost his composure.

He almost thought he needed to kill you. To make an example of your disobedience and lack of etiquette in a temple. Your head tilted forward, body slouched, breathing slow while he preached about cleansing the world of filthy non-sorcerers. You looked like a child dozing in a classroom. Disrespectful. Pitiful.

And yet… intriguing enough. He couldn’t remember you. Couldn’t place your face. Maybe you were just a leftover, someone he spared when he exorcised the curse that used to cling to you. When he asked how you got here, how you found the temple, all you did was mumble, “It felt cozy…”

Cozy huh.

Something about your sleepy little pout, the way your lashes fluttered while you fought to stay awake. Making him feel a certain way as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and flashed him that sweet smile and a mumbled apology. He should’ve cast you out. Sacrificed you. But instead, he let you stay.

You became a quiet little fixture in his world. Always near him, even if you were barely conscious. He started carrying you during temple work, your body slumped against the silk of his robes or curled up in his lap as he held meetings and sermons. His followers knew better than to speak on it. You were an oddity, a stray he took in. And for all his cruelty, Geto had a possessive streak a mile wide.

When you slipped to your knees in front of him, dozing even as you lazily licked at the salty cum on the tip of his pretty cock, his breath caught. You were messy and tired, little bubbles of spit forming along his shaft, as you whined that your jaw ached. Suguru wasn't sure if he should praise you for being so cute, blowing bubbles on his cock with your sleepy drool or punish you for being a tease.

Instead he cradled your head, not out of kindness, but control, lacing his fingers in your hair. “You can take it,” he cooed, slowly pushing himself deeper down your throat. Ignoring any gags and whines. “Be a good girl. Just a little longer.”

The sight of you, eyes glassy, tear tracks glistening, mouth stretched wide with drool pooling at the corners. God, it made him feel divine. He needed to ruin you. Needed to remind you who your savior was.

So he started bringing you to his bloodiest sermons. Sat you right on his lap while he exorcised curses, while he slaughtered your kind. Kept you tucked against his chest, your soft little body pressed close while the screams echoed through the temple. He'd expect you to cry, not to cling onto him while you slept, nuzzling into his robes as he was your shelter. Ignoring the screams, the deaths of your kind. Perhaps a sleepy little pet won't be so bad.

Nanami didn’t want to do this. Kidnapping wasn’t exactly in his moral playbook. But you weren’t answering your phone, weren’t responding to texts, and every time he showed up at your apartment, you brushed him off with a sleepy smile and went right back to bed.

You were overworked. Exhausted. Probably depressed. And he couldn’t just leave you like that.

So, he took you.

Gently, packed up your things, moved you into his home. Carried you to bed and tucked you in. When you stirred, confused, he sat beside you and said, “You need rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

You were drowsy, but not frightened. That… worried him more. We're you just so done with life that it was easier to be kidnapped? Poor thing.

He started waking you just to feed you, his voice low and careful. “Open your mouth,” he’d say, spoon in hand. “You need to eat something.”

He hovered. Quietly fussed. Took your temperature, read articles about chronic fatigue, bought vitamins and supplements and all your favorite snacks. At first, he asked constantly if you were depressed. If something was wrong.

You always said no. Just sleepy. Just tired.

Eventually, it was just easier to believe you.

So, his whole routine revolves around you. He works his shifts, knowing you’ll be there when he returns. Curled up under his weighted blanket, breathing steady (he has to check sometimes), hair tousled and cheek pressed into his pillow. He gets undressed, slides in behind you, and you instinctively scoot back into his chest.

“Nnnh… Kento,” you murmur.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

He should feel guilty. He knows this isn’t normal. But you let him do this. You make soft noises when he holds you. Ignoring how his hands slip your sweet panties to the side. You cling to his bicep in your sleep, shifting against him as his fingers rub little circles on your sensitive nub. And when he wakes you with slow, careful fingers between your legs, dipping into your heat, your only response is a sleepy sigh and a tilt of your hips, letting him know he's doing a good job.

You never fight him. Never run. So he should just indulge himself, right?

[rueclfer]

Fake Dating Pt 2 // Bakugou

a/n thank you for loving the first part so much! i hope you love this fluffy, wholesome moment as well :'-)

-

You wake up with a sour taste in your mouth. The headache wasn't so splitting thanks to the amount of water you had been forced to chug the night before, but beyond that, every other memory of last night seemed hazy.

I'm home... It's 9am...I'm in my bed, and I'm safe.

You release a sigh of relief and rub your eyes of the morning grogginess. You scroll through your phone, trying to replay the contents of last night, until you get to the bottom of your conversation with Katsuki. You suddenly remember why you started drinking so much in such a short amount of time in the first place.

You kissed him. You kissed him and you ran away because you couldn't deal with your feelings, and now you're here having to pray the memory away. Maybe you could play it off as a part of the bit? Surely, he would understand the drastic measures you needed to take to ensure that no one else from the other classes around would bother him anymore.

You smother a pillow into your face and scream in frustration as well as cringing at yourself, all while trying to remember the way his lips felt against yours in the back or your head.

"FUCK!" You exclaim loudly, throwing the pillow across the room.

Immediately, your bedroom door swings open, causing you to scream at the sudden intrusion.

"Jesus fucking christ, Y/N. What happened?!" Katsuki comes in, holding the metal bar from your towel holder, with only his boxers on.

You were going to throw up. Yup. You were 100% going to throw up and then throw yourself out the window.

You immediately cover your eyes with your hands.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" You scream back.

He had probably only been around to your apartment a few times with the others, but he clearly made himself comfortable.

"How the fuck do you think you got home last night?" He sighs, lowering his guard and makeshift weapon. "I was scared you were going to throw up in your sleep or something so I crashed on the couch... and used your shower."

You two stare at each other for a moment. You noticed his hair was still wet with droplets of water falling off onto his shoulders and chest. You tried not to stare and to maintain eye contact, but he was quite literally shirtless... and in his boxers...in your room... alone.

Realization finally hits you.

"Did you change me out of my clothes?" You slowly say, looking down at your pajama shirt and shorts that had replaced last night's outfit.

He pressed his lips together. "Yeah, but the lights were off."

You face flares with heat.

"Katsuki." You groan in your hands with embarrassment. "What the fuck?"

"What do you mean, what the fuck? Isn't that the polite thing to do? I didn't even look and I took your makeup off too, you're fucking welcome." He rolls his eyes.

"In return, I'm stealing your All Might band tee."

"Fine, dumbass. Top drawer on the far right." You huff.

"I know." He digs through the drawer, pulls out the tee and slides it over his head before making his way to your bed.

"Aht aht! What are you doing?" You say, threatening to throw another pillow at him.

"Didn't you want to talk about last night?" He smirks knowingly. "A refresher perhaps?"

You groan and rub your temples. "You're so annoying." You mutter. "Okay, the kiss. Let's talk about the kiss because if I have to talk- or even think about it anymore after this, I might just explode."

"Mmm okay. The kiss." He begins, flopping down on your bed and propping himself up with his elbow. "And before we continue, do you happen to remember everything else that happened after you scurried off in embarrassment?"

You froze. Everything else? What else was there to discuss besides the kiss?

"I mean yeah, kinda?" You try to recall. "We kissed, I went to go get a drink, got drunk in the bathroom, and then you came and took me home?" You open your phone to show him your text conversation. "What else was there?"

A smile grew on his face. "Angel face, I hate to break it to you but I don't think the kiss was the main event of the night."

Panic starts to set in. "We didn't hook up, did we?"

"No. I wouldn't do that to you, one. And two, I'm sure you'd be able to feel it if we did." He smirks.

You slam a pillow down on his face. "Stop fucking around with me! If not that, then what is it? Because you're scaring me now, Katsuki. Did I go streaking through the house? Did I get in a fist fight with someone? Did I confess my undying love to someone?"

"Not to that dramatic extent, but yeah pretty much." He shrugs.

"I'm going to fucking choke you out." You gripped the comforter in frustration "YEAH PRETTY MUCH TO WHICH PART?"

There was a beat of silence between you two, but your heart was racing out of your chest.

"It's not a big deal....if you don't want it to be a big deal, but in your drunken state, you essentially told me that you had feelings for me." He says, pressing his lips together trying to anticipate your reaction.

Your mouth gape open, and the air from your lungs expel. "I need to give me line by line breakdown of what the fuck I said last night."

It felt like you were on the verge of passing out. Not only did you embarrass yourself, but you had also managed to ruin your dynamic with Katsuki in the span of a few drunken hours.

"Well when I found you, you were pissed at me for no reason. So I asked you if it was because you kissed me- because again, how the fuck does it make sense that you're mad at ME when you were the one that- anyways besides that, I asked you, and you started crying and shit and then told me you LIKE-liked me." He says, all while fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "That's pretty much it, but imagine that you're full on crying and snotting all over me and in hysterics ya know."

You were silenced. You had terribly fucked up and knew that there was no way you could backtrack. You had complicated feelings about Katsuki and your arrangement for a while, but accepted its fate of ending with you two drifting back to friends as soon as you no longer needed each other's services.

"I really don't want you to freak out about this, okay?" He fills in the silence. "I get it, you were drunk so it's probably some bullshit. Tell me it's not true and we can pretend like it didn't happen."

Your heart ached. You did want this to go away, but at the same time if you don't take this chance to tell him about your feelings, you'll end up having to choke it down until you're forced to get over it in secret.

"Don't hate me." You say. "Please don't hate me."

"Tell me." He quietly says, almost holding his breath.

You shove your face into your hands. "It's so fucking complicated because of the fake relationship stuff. It's all supposed to be for show and to help each other out, but fuck it feels so real sometimes and I constantly remind myself that it's not, but...it feels REAL."

You finally look up at him. You couldn't quite read his expression- it was almost upset? Maybe pained?

"You look mad. Please don't be upset at me. Maybe we shouldn't do this fake dating thing anymore, and I'm sorry because I know we kind of needed each other for it, but I don't think I can stand faking it when it doesn't feel fake anymore."

He lets out a long breath of air. "Fuck okay so... you have feelings for me. Like real feelings outside of whatever this thing is that we're doing.

You cringe. "I have real feelings for you-I like-like you, or whatever the fuck I said last night. And I hate you too for making me go to that party and talking to and touching me like that and letting me cry to you about this just for it to all spill out now."

"Dammit, Y/N" He mutters, rolling off your bed and pacing around the room. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect things to get out of hand like this, and if I knew sooner or caught onto any hints, I would've done something about it earlier."

To say you were devastated was an understatement. You told him you had feelings for him, and he told you he was sorry. You couldn't be surprised. There was a reason why he needed a fake girlfriend so bad. He wasn't that guy to care for superficial things like romance and relationships and just needed to use you as a cover to stop people from bothering him about it, and vice versa.

"Don't be sorry. Really, it's not your fault." You wave off, your expression hardening. "We had an agreement, and I crossed that line. It is what it is."

"So now what? Where does that leave us?" He stops and looks at you.

You couldn't help but scoff. "There's no us, Katsuki. It was all for show. We tell everyone we 'broke up' and move on- that's it. We can go back to being friends, or acquaintances, or whatever the fuck we were before we started doing all this."

He blankly stares at you. You saw the gears turning in his head, his furrowed brows deep in thought made it look like he was trying to solve the most impossible equation, when in reality it was this poor boy's brain trying to process his emotions.

"Fuck, wait, I think I fucked up." He begins, a blush suddenly flooding his cheeks. "When I said I would've done something about it earlier, I meant telling you that..um ditto?" He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

You shoot him a blank stare. "Use your words, Katsuki. What the fuck does that even mean?"

He dramatically groans into his hands. "Fuck!" He starts pacing around once again. "I don't want to stop being with you, okay? And I know that shit is complicated, but I think I want it to work out, but... for real this time."

A beat of silence passes while you process.

"Oh.. so you... like me?" You were appalled.

"Like-like." He confirms.

Here you guys were, two emotionally-constipated people who had just confessed to one another trying to figure out how to go about this situation next.

"And you realized this when?"

"Right now when you were pissing me off and saying that we had to break up." He kneels down on the floor, next to the bed and right beside you.

"You realize that if we start dating for real, you're going to have to be an actual boyfriend? And do boyfriend things? Not just be my fake boyfriend who is only ever in my presence when we're at a function together or with our friends?"

"Is that not what I've already been doing?" He scoffs. "I drive you places, call you pretty, watch movies, cuddle, hold your hand, and everything in between and more?"

You roll your eyes. "But that's always been for show."

"And for my own pleasure." He deadpans. "With or without an audience, I liked doing all of that shit with you."

He suddenly reaches over and grabs your hand, which was no surprise as sweaty as yours. "Hands held, and we're in private. Good start, yeah?"

A smile grows on your face. "You're such a loser."

"Yours."

"Right." You blush. "But don't expect me to give in so easily. You need to take me on dates and stop being mean to me and saying that I laugh like a goose and shit."

"Anything you want, angel face, and I'll give it to you- even with your honking."

-

taglist: @im-lost-please-help @babycheech @cupkiki @html-nae @zz-snow-zz @svnnysidez @v3n7s @lovra974 @yappydoo @canarystwin @liluvtojineteyam @jaxyy219 @aespie @starynigvt @m-0ona @fictonal-men-dum @simp-plague @buggie07 @yendysdys

[mickandmusings]

professionally mrs. floyd

word count: 1.7k

pairing:

robert 'bob' floyd x f! reader

desc:

bob was no stranger when it came to days that were neverending. his job was stressful, his nerves shot by the end of every shift with the navy. so his home became his place of peace, perfect for a moment of solitude, thanks to the one person he always made sure to come home to-his wife.

when his wife has a less than satisfactory day at her own job, he makes sure to return the favor, and perhaps ensure that she never sees a day quite so bad again.

author's note:

none! more of a blurb than an imagine, just something short and sweet to get me back on my feet :)

for @fraaaaankiiiiieee

you know i love you and all your ideas, and your love for this bespectacled wso. thanks for being my forever cheerleader. <3

-

If there was anyone who was well accustomed to long days and short nights, it was Lieutenant Robert "Bob" Floyd. He woke early every morning, long, long before the sun would rise. He'd drearily shuffle into the bathroom and straighten his hair, brush his teeth, and don his khaki uniform. He'd kiss his still sleeping wife's forehead, grab the lunchbox she'd packed the night before off the counter, and be out the door before the first birds chirped in the morning.

His day at work would not be any less laid-back. He'd sweat through his flight suit in the backseat of a multi-million dollar aircraft, putting his trust entirely in the dark-haired pilot in front of him. (Not that he ever doubted Phoenix. Well, at least never to her face.) Bob had never had a weak stomach, it simply wouldn't fair well with the job he had, but sometimes his teammates maneuvers made his heart rate spike with stress. By the time he walked off the tarmac at the end of the day, he'd be thoroughly exhausted.

He'd arrive home in much the same fashion-the sun sinking steadily, soon to be replaced by the moon. He'd be well past worn out, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled in, but he'd still gather enough energy to greet his ever-doting wife, scarf down a warm dinner, scald himself in a hot shower, and fall asleep on the couch while attempting to catch up on the show he watched with his wife. Once she convinced him to finally come to bed, he'd hardly take the time to shove his glasses on his bedside table before crashing against his pillow for the short hours of rest allotted before he'd have to repeat the whole process over again.

It was safe to say that he was no stranger to a day that never seemed to end.

His wife, however, the eternal optimist she was, often found her days less harrowing than her husband's. Today, however, was not one of those days.

The day had started with asinine complaints-the bed had been a little too cold without Bob next to her, lacking the incinerator-level heat her husband's body always radiated. She'd groaned and hid her face back into his pillow, still smelling of his ridiculous 3-in-1 shampoo from the night before. How his hair was so incredibly soft despite the monstrosity that was that hygiene item was beyond her. The smell of his lingering body wash had lulled her back into sleep, the true source and start of her no good, very bad day.

She was so fast asleep she hadn't heard her alarm blaring, not until she was already ten minutes over the time she was supposed to be leaving the house. She'd panicked, racing through their bedroom in a flurry of already tangled nerves. Realizing quickly that Bob had forgotten to start the dryer the night before, all of her work clothes were still damp and unwearable. It was nothing to truly be angry about, they'd both been tired the night before, heading straight to bed without much care about anything else other than hitting the sheets. She'd trudged through with her less comfortable work clothes, the ones that itched if she moved a certain way, but it would be fine. It totally wouldn't become a minute thing that toppled her over the edge later in the day.

Right?

She thought little of it as she grabbed her water bottle and her lunch container off the counter, not even noticing the sweet note Bob had left her on top. In her rush to get out the door, she'd neglected her morning coffee, and, without meaning to, missing the other sweet post-it her husband had left on the machine next to her favorite mug. Bob was always leaving small actions of his love for her, something she adored about him. Unfortunately, her mind was more focused on the passive-aggressive comments her boss would give her for being late.

She'd already hit the rush hour traffic miles before her workplace, already ready to simply pull over on the shoulder and call it quits before she even gave her breakdown a moment to form. Swallowing down her already bubbling emotions, she pushes through and finally pulls into the parking lot of her workplace.

Naively, she had hoped things would start to look up from there.

She had, of course, been wrong.

Her boss' comments had indeed been backstabbingly biting, the coffee machine at work was out of order, her shoes had begun to rub blisters on her heels, her backup work clothes had become grating and her work was monotonous. By the time the clock hit five, she wasted no time in being the first to leave, responsibilities be damned.

She raced through the roads leading back to the home she shared with Bob, caring little about the possibility of a speeding ticket. She needed only one thing-her husband. She knew he likely wouldn't be home for another hour after her, but it would give her ample opportunity to have her dramatic breakdown before he came through the threshold of their front door.

To her surprise, however, her husband was already home. He'd already traded his stiff uniform for an old sweatshirt and some sweatpants, padding around barefoot in the kitchen. He was standing at their stove, the aroma of something savory filling their home.

"Hey, darlin'."

That accented voice she loved met her ears, already causing her bottom lip to wobble. She couldn't even respond with her usual sweet sentiment, too afraid she'd burst into a pile of tears.

"You're home early."

She redirects the conversation. She sees his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Uh, y-yeah, baby. I told you I was, left a note on the coffee pot this morning."

His wife's shoulders completely slump, bringing a hand to her eyes, furiously trying to avoid the tears that burn. She'd been in such a rush she'd neglected it completely. She felt guilty. He'd woken up early enough in his already incredibly early morning to write her little notes, to fill her water bottle with the fancy pebble ice she loved. Small actions to show he was thinking of her, that he cared.

"Bobby, m'sorry, I just-"

That was it, she was done for. One scalding hot tear falls down her cheek, and suddenly a tsunami of the others follows. Bob's eyes go wide, dropping the mixing spoon in his hand in favor of scooping her up in his arms.

"Hey, hey, shh, s'okay."

This wasn't the first time he'd ever had his wife sobbing into his shirt, and likely wouldn't be the last. Bob was an incredibly patient and understanding man, it wasn't something he'd hold against her. For some time, he just let her get her emotions out, let them fester forward to get that burdening feeling off her chest. He'd learned years ago that the method proved effective, she'd talk when she wanted to talk.

It only took a matter of minutes for her to do just that.

At most it was incoherent babbling over tears, but it was a language Bob had learned after several years of marriage. She just wanted to be held, to be listened to. So he did just that-his calloused hands caressing her sides as he listened to her incredibly distressing day. But Bob was also a man of action, always ready to fix a problem, and he instantly knew how to resolve this one. As his wife carries on about her 'asshole' boss, he stops her. Not meaning to interrupt, simply getting his thoughts out.

"So quit."

She looks up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, letting out a dry chuckle.

"Very funny, Floyd."

"M'not joking, Floyd," he retorts back, his voice entirely serious. He runs a hand across her cheek, pushing back a strand of hair from her face. "I make plenty for both of us. We've got everything we need on my pay alone. Got the insurance, the house...baby, the only reason you have to keep working is because you want to."

She simply looks at him as if he had sprouted an extra limb. Had it truly always been that simple?

"Plus," he raises an eyebrow under his thick lenses, that all-knowing smirk painted across his face. "If we decide to go through what we've been talking about, 'could work to our advantage, won't have to pay for daycare."

He gives a shrug, as if it was nothing. They'd been discussing the idea of kids for the past few weeks. For the first time in the entire day, his wife gives a genuine smile, a hint of a laugh crawling across her face. Always trust in Bob to see the bright side.

"Trying to get me as your housewife, Floyd?"

Bob feels a faint pink blush paint his cheeks, but grins.

"Is it working, Floyd?"

She can't help but erupt into a genuine laugh, falling against her husband's chest, finally content after a taxing day. She thinks for a moment-as if she even needed a moment to decide-before placing a soft kiss against his jaw.

"I think I can handle that, being professionally Mrs. Floyd."

Her comment makes Bob's own laughter fill the otherwise quiet air.

"Let me finish dinner and we'll write that two weeks notice together. But-"

He cuts himself off, lifting her with ease onto his shoulder and trekking her over to plop her onto the chair of their breakfast bar, pulling off his own hoodie so she can wear it instead of the uncomfortable looking work clothes that adorn her frame.

"-as your new boss, I'm ordering you-,"

He slips the itchy blouse off her arms, sliding the hoodie on in replacement.

"-ordering you to sit there and let me take care of the rest. And look, you're doing great already. Star employee."

He kisses her head, squeezing her side before going back to the stove. She felt her shoulders relax, that heavy weight on her chest eliminated. This she could get used to. No rushed mornings or hectic days, just leisure, soft days with a man who held her above anything else, as if she hung the moon and stars each night.

"I love you, Robert Floyd."

Bob smiles widely, crossing back over to her, hands on either side of her face.

"Going full legal now, are we? I love you more, Mrs. Robert Floyd."

-

[msilwrites]

Midnight Snack Mystery (Simon 'Ghost' Fic) Part 2

Wife! Reader Pregnant! Reader Hungry! Reader Possessive! Ghost Possessive! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley Possessive! Simon Ghost Riley Good Cook! Simon Ghost Riley Husband! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley Hungry Wife! Reader By this time he is already Captain or Major! or Lieutenant Col! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley

Part 1 is here AND Part 3 is here

Long, not so-long, but light hearted read. Warning: Don’t read when hungry!! Summary: Simon has finally discovered his wife’s late-night food hunts. Now, Y/N finds herself grounded—not by pregnancy restrictions, but by her overprotective husband who’s not letting her sneak out again without a word. With Simon now on high alert, he’s made it his mission to ensure she no longer goes on her secret noodle adventures. But what happens when Y/N’s cravings hit again? Will Simon give in to her late-night desires or continue his new role as the ultimate food police?

“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, your voice muffled by the noodle still in your mouth. “Toilet break?”

“Toilet break?” he repeated, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Love, the loo doesn’t serve dumplings.”

Your face burned as you set your chopsticks down, the guilt written all over you. “Okay, fine. I was hungry.”

Simon gestured at the table, his brows lifting in mock exasperation. “Clearly. Could’ve woken me up, yeah? Instead of sneakin’ out like a waddlin’ penguin burglar.”

You folded your arms, pouting at the ridiculous comparison. “I don’t think you’d want noodles at two in the morning. You’re not the one who’s pregnant, remember?” He snorted, leaning back in the chair. “You’re right. Not pregnant—just married to someone who’s got the stealth skills of a tipsy badger and the cravings of a bear.”

Before you could retort, the server appeared, looking slightly concerned as they eyed the towering figure now sitting across from you. Not afraid—just genuinely puzzled. This was the first time anyone had joined their sweet, petite, and very pregnant regular for a late-night meal. The sight of Simon, a veritable behemoth of a man with his piercing gaze and commanding presence, was enough to make them pause mid-step.

Simon noticed their hesitant expression and immediately waved a hand, his tone softer now. “Don’t worry. She’s my wife.”

The server’s gaze darted to you for confirmation, and you gave an enthusiastic nod between sheepish smiles. “He’s not bullying me; promise.”

They relaxed slightly, though their eyes lingered warily on Simon. “Um, then, sir, would you like to order something?”

Simon glanced at your nearly empty bowl, his lips twitching into an amused smirk. “Aye, bring me whatever she’s havin’. Clearly, it’s worth sneakin’ out in the dead of night for.”

The server chuckled, noting Simon’s good humor, and scribbled down the order. “Coming right up.” Once they left, Simon shifted his gaze back to you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly knowing way. “You’re lucky this place serves good food. But you’re not off the hook yet.”

“It’s not like I do it every night,” you muttered, breaking eye contact and fiddling with your chopsticks. “And off the hook for what? Eating?”

“For sneakin’ out while I’m asleep, waddlin’ around with slippers that won’t do much if you take a bad step. And don’t get me started on the stairs.” He jabbed a finger toward you, his voice full of mock severity. “Grounded. For your own safety.”

You rolled your eyes, pointing at your feet. “Simon, they’re anti-slip slippers. The safest footwear in the history of footwear!”

He gave you a flat look. “Still doesn’t change the fact you’re out here on your own in the middle of the night. And you’re not just anyone, love—you’re my wife. I love you. That means keepin’ you safe, even if I’ve gotta be a stubborn bastard about it.”

His tone softened, but the firmness in his words made your argument die in your throat.

Just then, the server returned with Simon’s steaming bowl of noodles. He took his chopsticks, twirled a bundle of noodles, and took a bite, savoring it slowly before giving a thoughtful nod. “Alright, I’ll admit it—you’ve got good taste, love.”

You smirked, your earlier pout vanishing as your lips curled into a teasing quip. “Of course I do. I married you, didn’t I?”

Simon paused, then let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and affection. “Flatter me all you want, but you’re still not sneakin’ out again.”

You pouted, twirling your chopsticks idly. “We’ll see about that,” you mumbled under your breath, though the truth was, you couldn’t imagine slipping out on him again—at least not without thinking twice.

Simon arched a brow at you, clearly catching your muttered words, but he let it slide, shaking his head with a faint smile.

The two of you ate in companionable silence after that, the warmth of the food and each other’s presence settling over you like a comforting blanket.

Simon might not be able to stop your late-night cravings, but from now on, one thing was clear—you weren’t going anywhere without him, especially late in the night.

----------

Simon and you walked back home, his large hand wrapped around your petite frame, the arm draped protectively around your shoulders like a vice. It was almost as if he feared you might just bolt for the nearest food stand at any moment—even though you were waddling, heavily pregnant, and moving at a pace that barely qualified as fast.

And yet, Simon knew better than to underestimate you. You were like a determined badger on a mission, and nothing—not even pregnancy—could slow you down. He even had your eco-canvas cat bag slung over his shoulder, the one filled with all the essentials you might need to escape. He wasn't taking any chances; in his mind, if you did try to sneak off, at least he'd have your necessities— phone, wallet, coin purse, wet tissue, snacks, a hair tie, and, of course, a spare pair of extra socks—in his grasp.

“Those noodles were really good,” Simon admitted, recalling the warmth of the broth and the satisfaction of each bite. “But you’re still not wanderin’ around at night on your own anymore.”

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N said with a raised brow, a playful challenge in her voice.

Simon’s smirk grew. “You’ve been caught, love,” he said, his arms crossing with that smug grin he was clearly enjoying far too much. “And I’m not lettin’ this go anytime soon. I’m your noodle partner from now on. Get used to it.”

You sighed, eyeing the night sky as you thought about the future. You could already feel Simon’s ever-watchful eyes, even when you were supposed to be asleep. “Guess I’ll just have to sleep with one eye open now…”

“Good,” Simon smirked, leaning closer. “Because now I’m hooked, and next time, I’m coming with you.”

You shot him a look of mock horror. “Oh, great. So much for sneaking out in the middle of the night... Guess I'll need to come up with a better escape plan.”

Simon’s smirk deepened. “You won’t need to escape. I’ll be right there next time, love, making sure you’re well-fed and not running off to some noodle shop at three in the morning.” He tightened his hold on you, as if to make his point clear. “Who’s gonna stop us now, huh? We’re a team, like it or not.”

You huffed, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “Guess I’ll have to get creative then..."

----------

As your pregnancy progressed, Simon's vigilance was at an all-time high. Despite his efforts, though, you still managed to sneak out for your late-night noodle runs. But Simon, ever the overachiever, wasn't just sitting back and letting you get your midnight cravings. No, he had plans.

He’d started researching. The noodles, the broth, the dumplings—he'd figured out everything about the shop. And then, to top it off, he went and bought the exact ingredients that the noodle shop used. So, now, when you got that familiar craving for noodles at ungodly hours, you wouldn’t have to go out anymore. He'd made sure to have everything ready for you at home. It was thoughtful, yes, but it didn’t stop you from sneaking out every once in a while for the real deal. The urgency of it all... the thrill of the late-night snack run was irresistible.

But that was before the new discovery.

It was a day like any other when Price’s fiancée—(A/N: oh no, Mama Bear, you enabler!)—casually mentioned something in passing, her voice far too nonchalant for what was about to drop. “Oh, and there’s this kebab place near you—24 hours. Just a block away from the noodle shop. I love it. We should go sometime.” Her eyes twinkled like she was letting you in on some delicious secret.

24-hour kebabs? Your mind practically did a happy dance. A whole new world of 3 a.m. snack options had opened up to you, and you couldn’t wait to start your next adventure.

From then on, your late-night trips became an alternating game of noodles or kebabs? One night, it would be noodles; the next, kebabs. And Simon? Well, he hadn’t caught on in a while. He was still under the assumption that his homemade noodle efforts were keeping you satisfied. Little did he know, you had your own little secret.

But then came the day you were packing Simon’s lunch. It had become a thing between the two of you—making him a lunchbox, especially since the canteen at base was basically a revolving door of the same uninspiring meals. Today, however, something was different. You’d had those mouthwatering lamb kebabs the night before, and they were so good that you couldn’t stop thinking about them while preparing his lunch. What better way to share the joy than to sneak a bit of last night’s feast into his lunchbox?

You chuckled to yourself as you carefully wrapped the leftover kebabs in foil, adding a bit of salad on the side because you were responsible like that. You even included a cheeky little container of tzatziki sauce, just to keep things fancy. “Sharing is caring, right, love?” you muttered to yourself with a grin.

As you closed the lunchbox, satisfied with your creation, you couldn't help but feel a little victorious. You had outsmarted Simon once again—and this time, you were treating him to a little midnight snack surprise, a little gift in kebab form.

Little did Simon know, his lunch that day was the result of your stealthy midnight food hunt.

---------

Simon sat at his table, digging into his lunch, enjoying the kebabs his wife had sneakily packed for him. The savory flavors were a welcome change from the usual bland canteen fare. Just as he was about to savor another bite from the new kebab wrap in his lunchbox, he heard a rustling noise. Johnny or Roach—hard to tell who started it—had caught a whiff of the fragrant meat. Before Simon could react, Roach grabbed the kebab from Ghost’s hand, and Johnny, in hot pursuit, managed to take a bite as he chased after Roach.

It was like watching toddlers fight over a toy—half laughing, half shoving each other.

Simon sighed, rolling his eyes. There went a quarter of his lunch. He grabbed the other kebab wrap from his lunchbox, shaking his head at the chaos.

“Oi, this tastes like the sauce from that kebab place near your home, Ghost,” Roach commented mid-bite, eyeing the meat with newfound curiosity.

Simon paused, mid-chew. “What do you mean?”

Roach grinned, clearly amused by the memory. “Johnny and I went there once when we were completely sloshed. We’d just embarrassed ourselves at a pub, trying to dance to some live band that sounded worse than an angry cat meowing for its dinner. After that, we decided the best cure for our humiliation was a late-night kebab. Had the best one of our lives, though. That place is just a few blocks away from your place, right? The one that’s open 24 hours?”

Simon’s eyes narrowed as it clicked into place. The kebab shop was near his house. Just a few blocks away from the noodle place. And the same one his wife had probably been sneaking out to in the middle of the night.

He let out an exasperated sigh, realizing the pattern.

His wife, who was almost due, had been sneaking out again, by herself, for food. And now, kebabs had been added to the list.

Simon rubbed his temples, a familiar headache forming. He knew he needed confirmation—he had to catch her in the act again. And this time, he was ready.

----------

That night, as she slipped out from under the covers, Simon pretended to be asleep. He felt her gently remove his large hand from her belly, a subtle movement that barely disturbed the sheets. His eyes remained closed as she quietly slid on his hoodie once again, the same one she’d worn for her late-night excursions.

He watched her movements in the dim light of their room as she grabbed her eco bag, the soft rustle of it making his heart race in anticipation. She was being careful, trying not to wake him.

Once she was downstairs, he listened closely, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. She stifled a laugh as she moved around the house, searching for her keys. Simon’s grin grew. This was it. She was slipping up.

She reached for the console table’s bowl where she usually tossed her keys, but they weren’t there. Her steps faltered as she tried to recall where she’d left them. Simon could hear the quiet shuffle of her slippers as she moved to the kitchen, her search growing more frantic.

When she approached the kitchen counter, the light suddenly flicked on. There, standing like a shadow in the doorway, was Simon—his towering frame blocking her path. He jingled the keys in his hand, his voice low and teasing.

“Looking for these?”

“Oh my gosh! Simon!” Y/N exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest in surprise.

Simon raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward. “Scared, love? I should be the one scared. Who sneaks out of the house at this hour with a bag full of snacks and—” He gestured toward her outfit. “—my hoodie? Really? You’re not fooling anyone.”

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed in a perfect imitation of a fish. “I... I wasn’t sneaking out! I was... uh... getting some fresh air?”

“Fresh air?” Simon smirked. “At three in the morning? Really? Or for kebabs?!”

Just as she was about to protest, a sudden shift in her expression caught him off guard. Her face went from flustered to... well, something else entirely. A small gasp escaped her lips.

And then it happened. A loud, unmistakable pop—the kind of sound you never want to hear in a moment like this.

Simon’s eyes widened as he looked down. “Wait—no. Don’t tell me—”

Y/N’s eyes went wide as she glanced down at her feet. “Oh. Oh, no.”

“That’s it. That’s what I was talking about.” Simon sighed, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. He shook his head, unable to help himself. This was exactly what he’d been worried about. There he was, concerned she might give birth on the street during her midnight kebab or noodle shop run—and of course, it happened just as he’d finally decided to confront her.

Her water had just broken. She was about to give birth.

Without hesitation, Simon snapped into action. He grabbed the overnight bag he’d already packed—because, let’s face it, he’d been expecting this moment to come at any time—and dropped it by the door.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, love. And next time, I swear, no more kebabs without me.”

He paused just before helping her out the door, turning to give her a serious look. “You’re not going to sneak off again, are you?”

Y/N shot him a glare, huffing in frustration—but the corner of her lips twitched upward into a grin. “Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll let you join me on the next midnight snacking adventure.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Simon muttered, ushering her out the door and toward his 4x4 in the garage.

----------

A few hours later, Simon stood in the delivery room, his heart pounding as he watched his wife give birth to their healthy baby girl. The little bundle of joy came out looking like a tomato—bright red, round, and very, very stout. A little bear cub in the making. Must’ve been all those late-night snacks and kebabs, Simon mused, but it didn’t matter. His daughter was healthy, and that’s all that counted.

But what really stood out, aside from her adorable chubby cheeks, was the fact that she looked so much like Simon. The scowl was unmistakable, like she was already plotting a covert mission—or maybe deciding which target to judge for their lack of culinary taste. Or, you know, plotting murder. It wouldn't surprise him if their daughter had inherited some of that... intensity.

Y/N couldn’t stop laughing, tears of joy in her eyes as she looked at their little one. “Oh my gosh, Simon—she looks just like you! That scowl, the little brow furrow... it’s like a mini version of you. I love it!”

Simon chuckled quietly, his lips curling into a grin. “Guess I passed on the scowl gene pretty well, huh?”

Y/N looked at him, still smiling with a mix of awe and amusement. “I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted. She’s like a perfect little replica of you. Can you imagine her looking up at me with that same scowl when she’s older? I’m gonna love it.”

Simon kissed her forehead gently, feeling a swell of pride. “You’ve got yourself a mini me, love. And I couldn’t be happier.”

Then came the question. The one that always followed the arrival of a baby. “What should we name her?”

Y/N thought for a moment, her eyes flicking from their daughter to Simon. “I was thinking something strong, like... a warrior name, you know? Something tough.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Warrior name, huh? You sure? What about something like... (A/N: Hi reader, I'm giving you the choice to name your daughter with Simon ;) ) (Your Child's/Name) Riley?”

She smiled, a playful twinkle in her eye, and nodded. “Well, then. How about the nickname?”

Simon glanced at her, his mind drifting through the countless food adventures she’d had while he was asleep in their bed. He thought of all the late-night runs, the kebabs, the noodles, and the endless snacks. His gaze moved from his wife’s grin to the little bundle in his arms—her rosy, pinkish cheeks, round like a little fruit.

Then it clicked. The tomatoes in the noodles, the kebabs… it all added up.

He looked back at her with a grin. “We’ll nickname her ‘Tom.’ Short for Tomato.”

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with the love she felt for both of them. “Tom. I love it.”

Simon chuckled softly, gazing at his daughter. “She’s definitely earned it.”

Y/N leaned back against the pillows, content and happy. “Well, ‘Tom’ it is then. Welcome to the world, little Tomato.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that one! 😄 I might do a part three sometime, maybe when you (Y/N) are pregnant again, and your little tomato is a bit older and already becoming your little accomplice too! 🍅💕

Also, if you don’t mind sharing, what did you name your daughter, Simon? 🤔 Drop it in the comments—I wanna know! LOL! 😄

Edit: And here is the NEXT CHAPTER --------->

[dontshootmespence]

Promise?

Pairing:  Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: After saying “I do,” Bob and the reader enjoy their wedding ceremony and honeymoon in Scotland. 

Author’s note: This was a request from @horrormovielover2000. The reader has some Slavic ancestry, which influences some of the traditions at the reception, including bonfires and setting wreaths free on the water. (Typically wreaths on the water are done in a river or lake but this will be on the ocean). 

Warning:  Unprotected p in v, light choking, honeymoon smut. Pretty basic.

Word count: 1,044

—-

As the waves crested on the beach, Alexei, the officiant, clapped his hands and said, “Bob, you can finally kiss your beautiful bride!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd when Bob grasped your face in his hands and kissed you slowly. You almost forgot everyone around you, sinking into the feeling of his lips on yours, his tongue washing over yours just slightly. “I love you,” Bob said, smiling wide as his hand slipped into yours. 

“I love you more,” you whispered back.

Alexei slapped your backs, nearly shaking the breath from you. “You two deserve each other,” he said softly before projecting to the wedding guests. “And now, time for the reception!”

While your guests began to grab your signature wedding cocktail, a mix of pineapple juice, orange juice, rum and grenadine, you and Bob changed out of your formal wear and into more comfortable clothing. Bob slipped into some black slacks and white button-up shirt while you slipped into a short red dress with straps that gathered at the back of your neck. “You’re stunning,” Bob said, gathering you to his chest. “Let’s get back to our guests before I take you somewhere quiet around here and have my way with you.”

Giggling, you grabbed Bob’s hand and ran back toward the beach where the bonfire was starting, the orange flame a stark contrast to the star-studded night sky. After your first dance to the classic “At Last” by Etta James, your guests gathered around the bonfire and started dancing with reckless abandon. You even ditched Bob for a moment to dance with Yelena and Ava and the rest of your bridesmaids and friends. Bob had a drink in his hand and John, Bucky and Alexei by his side. He was blushing which led you to believe they were saying something about your upcoming honeymoon. 

As the bonfire roared, you gathered your guests to the restaurant on the beach where a sea of tables had been set up for dinner. Instead of a sit down meal, you’d constructed a buffet with everything you both loved, including some Russian dishes that Alexei liked to make, pierogis, goulash, blinis, and kopytka. Thankfully, you’d ensured an abundance of food, given your three super-soldier friends with matching appetites and nearly 200 guests. 

Nearly an hour later, everyone was stuffed to the brim with food and started mingling back on the beach where the bonfire had been kept going. Instead of getting right back into dancing, you, Bob and your guests gathered wreaths of herbs and flowers to let them go in the water. The farther they went, the longer and happier your marriage would be. 

As the wreaths flowed outward on the waves, the music picked up again. Bob picked you up effortlessly and ran toward the bonfire, planting your feet on the ground before joining you in a spirited dance that enraptured your guests. 

After cutting the cake, you returned to dancing, slowly swaying in Bob’s arms as the stars shined overhead and the fire continued to crackle. “Were the guys making inappropriate jokes before?” You asked Bob. 

“John was talking about the honeymoon,” he laughed. 

“What did you say?” You smiled against his mouth before you kissed him. 

“That even though Scotland is beautiful, I plan on keeping you in the bedroom most of the time.” A blush hit the apples of his cheeks and went back to the tips of his ears. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

——

With lush green fields, quiet lochs, and mountains as far as the eye could see, Scotland was one of the most beautiful places you’d ever seen. But nothing held a candle to the small bed-and-breakfast you and your new husband were staying in. It was small and cozy, with a room overlooking the lake. Thunder and lightning cracked across the sky as you screamed Bob’s name and dug your fingers into his hair. 

You giggled as he crawled up your body, eyes blown wide with lust, your arousal still on his lips. “Kiss me,” you chuckled, tasting yourself on his tongue. You whined as his hips ground against yours, his cock heavy against your thigh. “Need you.”

Bob kissed the side of your neck, slowly sucking at your pulse point. “You have me,” he mumbled against your skin, “forever.”

Reaching between your sweat-slick bodies, you grasped his cock and slid it against your slickness over and over again until neither of you could take it anymore. As he sank into you, he moaned, eyes rolling back in his head. “Damn, baby, you-you take me so well.”

You arched up into him, rolling your hips in time with his thrusts. “Fuck, harder baby, please.”

Bob reached his hand up to your throat, pressing gently on the sides as he picked up the pace. “Such a good girl for me,” he groaned. “My good girl.”

His praise fueled your need and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, harder, faster with each thrust. “I’m gonna come. Bob, don’t stop, please.”

“I don’t plan to,” he moaned, bringing his hand to the side of your face. “Gonna make you come all over this cock again and again and again.”

As the waves began to crest, you snaked your hand into his hair and brought him close. Heavy breaths, moans and the sounds of your bodies colliding filled your ears and overtook your senses, bringing you to the edge with another cry. You felt Bob come with you, thick spurts filling you up.

“Fuck,” he breathed, laughing as he practically collapsed on top of you. “You’re amazing. God, I love you.”

“ I love you, too.”

Just as you were about to sink into a heavy makeout session, the phone rang. “Uh-oh,” Bob said, blushing. “I think we’re loud.”

Calm and collected, you picked up the phone to hear exactly what you thought. You weren’t exactly quiet. “We’re so sorry,” you said, choking back a laugh. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

When you hung up the phone, Bob slipped out of you and came to rest at your side, eyes heavy with exertion and sleep. The rain continued to pound on the roof overhead, almost lulling you to sleep. “Fuck me senseless again when we wake up?” He asked. 

“Promise.”

[heavenly-reaper]

dom!spencer finding the reader gets nervous with eye contact during sex so he makes her make eye contact

this giving dom!spence to me idk but i'm jsut gonna...yeah [edit: just realised this said dom!spencer anyway i'm dumb]

+18 minors leave please god

warnings: slapping, p in v, swearing idk, dom!spencer

spencer noticed it a while ago, it wasn't hard for him to but two and two together -- you couldn't make eye contact to save your life.

it started with not looking hotch in the eyes when he was talking to you, then it was local law enforcement then it was him. you would avoid eye contact with him at all times, opting to looking at anything else (like playing with yours hands).

so, when you and spencer got together, he made it his mission for you to work on your eye contact; or lack of eye contact.

spencer's cock was thrusting in and out of you at an immense pace, your pussy clenching around with every little movement. your eyes rolling back in pleasure and thighs shaking. one of his hands were holding both of yours above your head and the other gripped on your trembling thighs, ensuring his pace never faltered.

"hey," he tapped your face, "look at me." he said, now holding your cheeks in one of his veiny hands.

it took a while for you to really listen to what he said, the pleasure turning your mind into complete mush. "huh?"

spencer continued to fuck your pussy relentlessly, "you're going to look at me whilst i ruin you." he growled at your, lust coating every syllable.

you shook your head at him, closing them and focusing on the feeling of his cock inside you. then, spencer did something you didn't expect -- he slapped you across the face. "oh, fuck," you moaned, liking the pain more than anything.

spencer smirked at you, "come on, baby, you can do it. if you look at me, then maybe i will let you come. maybe."

the threat was real and scary, you wanted to come, you wanted to come so bad. the feeling in your tummy was getting oh so close and you knew if you didn't look at him, he would stop and get himself off.

you opened your eyes reluctantly and stared directly into his eyes; they were dark. his smirk was still firmly on his face, whilst he was still thrusting in and out of you, his nimble fingers playing with your clit.

"there we go baby," he praised "there's a good girl."

the praise was too much, the feeling of his cock hitting all the right spots whilst your clit was getting played with -- you were going to come. "fuck spence, please. please let me come." you begged, looking directly into his eyes.

spencer smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you on your forehead. he placed his lips next to your ear and said, "come for me baby, come all over my cock."

he made sure not to blink, he didn't want to miss the moment of you becoming undone. your eyes rolling back into your head and your hands gripped the bedsheets so hard he was convinced they would rip.

just the sight of it made him spill his seed directly inside of your fluttering cunt, "fuck," he groaned.

he's going to make you make eye contact more often.

[lostatsea-blog]

The Worst Day of Our Lives - Part 2

A day that starts the same as any other takes an unexpected turn

Alexia x Reader

Warnings: Angst/Emotional

The Worst Day Of Our Lives – Part 2

A clearing of the throat snapped everyone to attention. Alexia stood; the unwavering support of her Mami the only thing keeping her upright as the doctor began his update…

He explained that the driver’s side of the car had taken most of the impact resulting in some serious injuries that required surgical intervention. He explained that you had broken your collarbone as well as three ribs and one of the broken ribs had punctured your lung. He explained that they had needed to reinflate the lung and stabilise that fracture to ensure it healed right. He went on to explain that you had also broken your right leg in 3 places and that the femur fracture had been an open fracture and extensive surgery had been needed. A metal rod had been inserted into your leg to stabilise it as well as reconstruction to the ligaments and tendons.

Alexia felt the air leave her lungs as the doctor explained the damage to your leg. All that mattered to Alexia was that you were alive but she knew that the damage to your leg would hit you hard. None of that mattered right now, she needed to see you with her own eyes, to see your heart beating and to see you breathing.

“Can I see her” Alexia’s voice trembled as she asked causing Eli to instinctively grip her harder

“Yes, but at this time it can only be you” the doctor replied and Alexia nodded in understanding. She wished her mother could come for the support but she knew this was standard hospital policy after surgery “Mrs Putellas” he began again “Her appearance will be quite shocking, while I have detailed her most serious injuries, she was in a car accident and she has quite extensive trauma and bruising”

Alexia nodded her understanding and after sharing a look with her mother, allowed the doctor to guide her through the corridors to your room. A broken sob left her throat as she set eyes on you. You looked tiny and broken in the hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and monitors. Your face was covered in cuts, grazes and bruises that looked angry and swollen. As she moved closer to your bed, she became aware of the strong, steady consistent beep coming from the heart monitor and she was filled with a sense of calm for the first time since she was told of your accident. She pulled the chair in the room closer to your bed, sat down and gently took hold of your hand but something very quickly felt wrong, your hand didn’t look right

“Where is her wedding ring?” Alexia asked tracing the tan line which indicated where your ring had been.

“It had to be cut off after the accident” The doctor answered as delicately as he could. Alexia did not know why that unsettled her but it did. You had not taken it off since she put it on you two years ago and its absence made her heart ache. Silent tears started to streak down her cheeks. Not wanting to intrude, the doctor silently left the room.

Alexia could not take her eyes off you. In her eyes, you were a loud, confident, playful, larger than life character who filled every moment of her life with joy. She couldn’t remember a time where she had seen you look so small and fragile and that caused the deepest ache inside her soul.

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there just listening to the steady beep of the monitor but she knew it had been a while. She was startled out of her trance when she felt a twitch under her hand. Alexia held her breath not knowing if she had actually felt it or if it had been her imagination but then there was a second, followed by a groan. Her eyes darted to your face and she watched your eyes flutter but not quite open and further pained sounds left your lips. She kept watching with bated breath as you struggled to open your eyes and when you finally did, the calming, comforting blue that she loved so much had been dulled and were heavily blood shot.

The next minute seemed to happy in slow motion. She watched as you became aware that something wasn’t right. The pained cry that left your lips would be something she heard in her dreams for years to come. She watched as you tested your body and saw the exact second that you realised there was something wrong with your legs. She watched as the panic set in and you tried to reach for the covers to see what was wrong but your arms would not comply. The heart monitor that had been strong and stead was now beeping at a frantic pace as you gasped to get your breath. It was less than a minute but to Alexia it felt like an eternity

“Amor” she placed her hand gently on your chest trying to get your attention but the panic had gripped you and your eyes were rolling in your head she didn’t know why but she began speaking softly in Catalan

“el meu amor escolta la meva veu” (my love listen to my voice)  She whispered bending close to your ear

“Estàs bé, amor meu, però has de calmar-te: estic aquí, estàs a salvo” (Your okay my love but you need to calm down – I am here, you’re safe)

Your catalan was still shaky, even after the time you had spent with Aleixa, but her voice broke through your panic and you began to settle. The heart monitor, which had been screeching its urgency began to calm; the rapid beeping slowly becoming that steady thumb. Alexia took a shaky breath as your eyes finally landed on hers and she could see the recognition, you knew who she was and her prescence brought you comfort.

“Lex...?” One word, three little letters but it held so much and she knew instantly what you were asking her. With the greatest of care, she softly brushed your matted hair away from your face.

“There was an accident my love, you were in an accident when you were driving – You are at the hospital” she explained her voice barely above a whisper “Your car was hit by another car and you have some big injuries that they had to operate on” Alexia watched as you processed this information, her eyes studying every minute detail of your face. She realised quickly that you were struggling to stay awake. Leaning over she placed the most reverent of kisses on your head follwoed by the simplest words

“Sleep my love, I’ll be here when you come back” she promised. Her reassurance being all you needed to slip back into unconsciousness.

Alexia understood that your road to recovery was going to be a momentous battle with many challenges but she knew, no matter what, she was going to be there to support you every step of the way. Today, for the first time, she’d had to contemplate her life without you and it was something she knew she could not live through. That’s how she knew, no matter how difficult your recovery was, she would not let you face it alone.  

[edens-melodies]

LaDs Men Smoker Headcanons

Question: You are a gardener. A plant lover. A cloud admirer. But what about the boys? Who out of the LaDs men would smoke weed? 

ft: Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb, and Zayne

a/n: in my head personally, all five of them are in a relationship with one another and you/mc, and they all just take turns sleeping over at each others houses and whatnot. these are my takes on what each of them would be like, and if you don't like, don't read 🤷🏽‍♀️

Rafayel: 

would 100% be a smoker. it helps whenever his creative juices aren’t flowing as strong as he wants. 

loves some good bud when offered but is the most notorious cart hitter. has that shit on him 25/8. 

gets the savvy two gram carts on his custom gold plated battery. (he custom made it himself and engraved little grooves in it to look like ocean waves with lemurian phrases on it).

you would be surprised to occasionally walk in and see his beautiful handcrafted cerulean straight tube bong sitting on the floor next to his ladder instead of his cart in one hand, paint brush in the other. (don’t be fooled that shit is tucked into the waistband of his pants, i can’t-)

would actually not know that you smoked weed until one day he came home late from picking up more obscure art supplies (“i promise you, this specific shade of periwinkle exists! i swear!) and forgot that you said you’d be waiting for him there.

~~~~~ 

he walks through his quiet home leisurely, trying to see where he was going since he never remembered to turn the lights on, the sun setting quickly in the distance.

he only remembers vaguely that you said you would be stopping by while he was out when he sees your shoes by the couch, and when he looks up he sees your back facing him, the doors to his balcony leading to the beach wide open. 

a smile pushes its way to his face before he can stop it, and just as he goes to call out to you, the sweet musky scent of weed hits his nose at the same time the salt air does.

with wide eyes, he watches as you shift, taking another drag of your blunt as it billows from your lips and curls around your figure before the wind blows away.

you only know he’s there when you jump in your spot, whipping around with blunt still hanging from your lips as you see the image of rafayel on his knees, tears pouring down his eyes as he smiles watery at you. 

“oh my god are you okay??!?”

“i knew you would always be the one for me, cutie…”

“WHY ARE YOU CRYING??”

Xavier:

would be completely against it at first only because he’s never heard of it before, or if he has, very minimal information

(and after a quick yet stressful google search while your outside casually dragging a jay on ur balcony) decided that all the warnings and dangers of the drug was too much of a risk to take.

but after you talk him off a ledge after he started to spiral while watching you smoke, thinking you were going to develop lung cancer and CHS overnight, he learns that not everything on the internet is to be trusted.

sits and listens intently as you explain to him all the pros and cons to smoking weed, and why it’s even recommended in the first place.

after being assured that you weren’t going to die in your sleep from your lungs collapsing and that he wouldn’t start seeing demons in the corners of rooms, he would calm down significantly and actually become a little curious to what it would make him feel like.

doesn’t become a regular smoker, but if he sees you on the balcony with a joint in hand, he’ll pop his head out for a quick little puff puff before going back inside and watching how it’s made on the tv with heavy set eyes.

~~~~~

you take your last puff with a deep inhale, crushing the filter in the ashtray to your right, releasing the pillowy smoke as you ensure the cherry wouldn’t fly out and cause someone’s backyard to catch on fire.

you turn to step back into your apartment, and as the sliding glass door clicks shut behind you, the smooth steady cadence from the tv hits your ears.

with a slow but fast growing smile spreading across your face, you take in the sight of xavier watching the tv with such a dedication that you haven’t even seen him make that expression even on missions. a half empty bowl of chips sits in close reach of his right hand, and his left hand is currently moving towards his bottle of juice, eyes never leaving the screen.

“is it a good episode, baby?”

“yeah… i never released how complicated it is to make a industrial sized ceiling fan…”

“xavi…”

“yes, my love?”

“you’re spilling cranberry juice on my sofa.”

“ah…”

Sylus:

are we kidding me? this man has to deal with so much on a daily basis, that not only does our boy partake in the devils lettuce, but like everything he does, he does it with style. 

actually has a private plot of farmland in a undisclosed tropical country where he has a dedicated team there to grow and harvest it for him.

gets it shipped out to his house and it comes in a embossed black crate, perfectly preserved in amber jars to protect it from light.

has a thin golden metal cigar holder that’s just packed with artistinally rolled joints, each one looking like it would cost more than a month’s paycheck from your job.

regularly is seen around the base with a joint hanging from his lips, but if it’s been particularly stressful recently or a deal that went wrong, he has as special room in the base only he and you know of where is dab rigs are set up with two comfy chairs and a wet bar tucked against the wall.

has a collection of all his favorite bowls and bangers, shelves lined with one of a kind custom glass pieces that he’s picked up over the years and is that imported spring water for the rigs in the mini frid-

will always be down to smoke with you, whether you're a heavy smoker or a occasional puffer, if your down, he’s down, no matter the time.

~~~~~

sylus isn’t surprised when he rolls over to pull you to his chest, barely awake and a frown already on his lips when he feels the cooling sheets where your body was supposed to be.

the clock on his bedside shined with the time, the bright red 02:16 mocking him from his bed. the events of the day had worn the both of you down, after a supposedly easy transaction ended in a gun fight where the two of you had emerged victorious, but at the cost of your mental and physical energy.

already knowing where you would be, especially after days like the one you two just had, he didn’t even bother putting on a robe, feet already moving to bring him out of the bed and to your exact location.

when he put in the passcode to the door hidden behind the armory, he was greeted with the sight of your frame curled up in a ball on the extra large memory foam bean bag, foldable table to your left with a freshly prepared rig, torch and dab nail sitting pristinely next to your shallow glass jar of wax.

the tv was playing your favorite calm playlist on spotify, home maker by sudan archives playing softly in the space, and he couldnt help the smile the warmed his face when you gave him a million dollar smile, tired eyes shining in happiness while you looked at him.

“didn’t think to even invite me, sweetheart? i’m hurt.”

“i knew you’d feel me leave the bed. you forget i know you’re a light sleeper.”

“so it seems i’ve been caught. so i’m to assume you prepared me a serving as well?”

“this first hit has already been dedicated to you, lovey.”

“…god i can’t wait to marry you i’m gonna fuck the shit out of you.”

“SYLUS!”

Caleb:

okay so he doesn’t smoke per say, but he can fuck up a good edible. gummies, chocolates, candies, even the occasional lemonade when he wants something light.

is definitely the type to do a shit ton of eddies right before going into an aquarium or planetarium, speechless not only from the beautiful sights but also because he’s pretty sure he just ingested about 500mg of happiness.

will 100% master the art of making cannabutter and cannaoil so he can make edibles not only for himself, but for you as well.

buys the highest quality bud and has a specific device that measures the thc percentage of it, just in case the dispensary was off on their end.

does all the calculations of thc milligram per serving three times over so each high is perfect each time, and loves spoiling you with new ways he incorporates it into anything he makes, whether it’s something savory like his signatures braised chicken wings, to something sweet, like the glazed chocolate chip banana bread he just finished up on. 

but one thing he does forget to do occasionally is labeling which ones were normal, and which ones were spicy…

~~~~~

“hey pips, how was your hangout with zayne today?”

“it was great! you know how busy he’s been at the hospital recently so it was good to see him relax and not in work mode. he said he misses you!”

“i’m glad to hear he’s taking a breather, tell him i miss him, too.”

“i will, he said he plans to come visit sometime soon or we can go see him because he really wants to know how you made that chocolate chip banana bread. he couldn’t keep his hands off it.”

“…. was it the one that was on top of the fridge in the three layers of seran wrap?”

“yeah…why?”

“…. oh my god wE NEED TO GET TO ZAYNE’S RIGHT NOW!!!”

“?!??”

Zayne:

doesn’t partake in it (willingly) not only because of his job, yk, cardiac surgeon hello??? but also because he has tried it once before, years ago when he was still in school learning surgery period, and didn’t like the way it made him feel.

would be totally okay with you smoking, but would monitor your health more closely, making sure you weren’t overdoing anything or causing unnecessary strain on your lungs or heart.

he’s totally the type to hand you water when you take a rip of the pen too hard next to him, eyes never leaving the article he was reading while took turns patting your back and waving the smoke away from his nose.

he is well aware that caleb is a professional in the kitchen, and he also knows that caleb is as meticulous as he is, so whenever you spend time at his place and bring goodies that caleb makes, he knows whatever he’s eating won’t be hiding any malicious intent in the sweet interior. 

until one time it did, and no one knew.

~~~~~

about now it’s two hours after you headed out to go meet up with caleb, and zayne is sprawled out on his back on his living room sofa, hazel eyes staring mutely at the shadows casted on his ceiling.

at first he thought his body was feeling extra relaxed because he had the next couple of days completely free from work, and he finally had a chance to breathe. you had come to surprise him after he got off his last shift, finally free for a couple of days. you had your arms stuffed with sweets and a bright smile aimed right at him.

your company has always soothed something raw in him, and so did caleb whenever the two of you would drop by and visit him, both on his off days and during his shifts.

apparently caleb couldn’t make it to today’s surprise because the fleet had him stay back for something urgent, so it was just the two of you in zayne’s house, sharing the sweets caleb had made that you brought.

after you had left, saying that you were going to see if caleb was home yet and if he wanted to join you two for a potential sleep over tonight, zayne’s body was a metaphorical puddle at this point, body warm and a small smile on his face in anticipation of seeing you two again tonight.

at least, it was metaphorical until he realized he couldn’t move his legs more than a couple of inches of the sofa and his tongue was now sandier than the beaches by rafayel’s house, and the answer came slower to mind than he would’ve liked.

oh.

oh no.

(at least this experience is a lot more pleasant than the initial time, but he still isnt happy about this.)

“ZAYNE IM SO FUCKING SORRY!”

“you don’t have to shout, (y/n), i’m right here.”

“zaynie i’m so sorry, i forgot to label the wrap and i thought i put it somewhere she couldn’t reach-“

“caleb i already said i forgive you, i know it wasn’t intentional.”

“but you can’t even stand up on your own!”

“and you don’t even know it was really us when we came in until i started talking and you said ‘oh my god this time you’re real’!”

“that doesn’t make me feel any better…”

“well for now, we’re not going anywhere til you feel better, right pipsqueak?”

“at least we can all still have a sleepover tonight?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“caleb, i call dibs on helping him get into his pajamas.”

“wAIT NO! not fair, you don’t even warn me!”

“wait wha-“

hope you enjoyed! i had so much writing this ngl cuz not only can i perfectly envision everything in my head, but i was taking a hit for each boy i had to write, so it was just a great time all around.

please send in some requests! im trying to get back into the swing of writing again so any ideas are more than welcome!

thank you for the read, and have a beautiful day <3