#hope this was sad enough for you anon

[robo-writing]

I saw your requests were open, so I have to ask for… pain 😔

Can I request a Logan x afab!reader HCs or full fic about how reader is getting older and he kinda isn’t yk? Like going from when they first met, to readers deathbed, and how he has to live without them for the rest of his life 🫶🫶

Also take care of yourself DRINK WATER 🥰

Oh yeah, it’s angst time.

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone Synopsis: You live a long life, but not as long as Logan's. Warnings: 3.2k words of gut-wrenching angst, mentions of blood, grieving someone after they're gone Author's note: Hope you're happy anon, I cried five times writing this <3

He had first met you in your twenties—twenty-three, to be exact.

Young, bright eyed, naive. You were kind, where he was not. You were hopeful, where he was jaded and angry at the world. He loved your innocence, how you always saw the best in others—suppose that’s what made you such a good counselor to the children. You listened—really, truly listened—made anyone that walked through your office doors feel welcomed.

Maybe that’s why he found his way to you. When the nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep and the voices wouldn’t let him think, he shuffled to your bedroom door without a goal in sight, bare feet padding against the polished floors. His knuckles meet your door, seconds passing by before he asks himself why the hell he’s even here in the first place.

Before he could walk away he heard your feet shuffling, followed by the click of your doorknob.

He felt guilty for waking you up, eyes red and face puffy, but you didn’t even question why he was at your door, just rubbed your eyes and opened the door wider for him to walk in.

It was silent at first. You offered him some water, passed him a blanket, and just sat there. You never pressured him to speak, and he didn’t feel compelled to. Maybe five minutes later he said something and you just nodded in his direction, encouraging him to continue.

For the first time in a long time, he talked. And you listened.

It became a ritual between the two of you, staying up late at night just to chat. It wasn’t always about his past, sometimes he just needed to let it all out, and you were the perfect outlet. He felt like you didn’t judge him, and that’s all he ever needed.

Eventually he wanted to hear you too—he preferred it that way. Talking about lesson plans and movies, little things that seem mundane but made him feel less like a patient and more like a friend. You were a welcome distraction, and an added bonus was that you were really cute when you were talking.

He was the one who made the first move. He remembers every detail, from your pajama shorts to the over-worn tank top sliding off your shoulder, your eyes bright as you went on about a new baking recipe you wanted to try. Sat on your bed, looking so relaxed he couldn’t help but stare and marvel at your beauty.

“Logan?” You ask, waving your hand in his face. “Hello? Earth to Wolverine?”

The moment you called out his name he was already making his way to your bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight, and you let out a soft noise of surprise before he plants his lips against yours.

Yours are soft compared to him—everything about you screams softness, innocence and purity, and he’s not sure if a man like him even has the right to be next to you, much less kiss you. He’s certain his soul is filthy, tainted—a layer of black that’s sure to muck up your own if he keeps this up. He knows this deep in his heart, but greedy man that he is, he keeps his lips locked to yours.

Once, and then never again. He can’t be with a girl like you, and he knows it.

You hold him by the neck and pull him back when he tries to leave your embrace. Maybe it’s pity, he thinks, the way your hands tug him by the shirt and cling onto the fabric. Maybe you’re only entertaining him, stringing him along just to laugh in his face, mock him into ever thinking he had a chance. If you are, he doesn't care, because at least now he’s got a taste of what he could never have.

The two of you finally separate, a silk-thread of spit connecting the both of you, looking at each other with a mixture of shock and confusion. What happens after this? How does he return to what you had before—how can he, when he now knows your chapstick tastes like cherries?

He makes a move to leave, but against all odds your hand is still clinging onto his shirt. In that moment he knew he was the luckiest man alive because you begged him to stay in that cute voice of yours, begged him not to leave when his hands made their way up the front of your shirt—begged him for more when his lips wandered lower.

By your thirties you already had a shiny ring on your finger, one that he can say he proudly put on your finger. A gold band adorned by diamonds, it shines in the orange light of the sun, staring at you from its red-velvet housing. 

It’s the first time the X-Men see him cry, tears running down his face when you run into his arms screaming yes, yes, over and over as he holds you in his arms, sunset illuminating your features. He always thinks of you as beauty personified, but watching you admire the diamond-studded band with awe—the one thing that signifies you as his—he can’t help but look at you like icarus does to the sun.

The wedding was small—neither of you minded. Hank was the ringbearer, and Charles walked you down the aisle, and when your vows were said and done the priest could barely finish the ceremony before Logan lunged forward and kissed you, dipping you at the altar accompanied with a cheer from the people you consider your family.

Scott has the video saved on his phone. He pretends it pisses him off, but he had Jean send him a copy later. Sometimes he watches it when he thinks you’re asleep, but little does he know you are very much awake.

In your fourties’ you have a house together, somewhere upstate where no one can bother you. A cozy wooden home where it’s just you and him, relaxing by the fireplace and watching tv every day. When he’s not helping the X-Men he works at a local lumber yard, the highlight of his day being when he comes to work, grabbing his equipment from the truck. 

His co-workers jeer at him every time, call him whipped like butter, but they wouldn’t understand what he feels. He certainly doesn’t seem to care, especially when it’s your kiss pressed to his cheek.

He can safely say his life is perfect. It’s domestic, it’s everything Logan ever dreamed of, everything he thought he could never have—and it’s all thanks to you. He wakes up every morning grateful to you for giving him the greatest gift he could ever receive: serenity. 

Between the fairytale ending and his rose-colored glasses, he doesn’t notice it, not until you’re in your fifties and he’s—he’s not.

You’re aging, and he’s staying the same.

You still love each other and he’d never, ever, think about leaving you, but the realization sticks with him. He thinks about it late at night while you sleep next to him, pressed against his side. Your scent, your touch, he memorizes it all because he doesn’t know when he won’t be able to feel it again.

In your heart you know it too, but you don’t say anything—you don’t want to scare him away. He’s only just begun to get used to normalcy, and you don’t want to take that away from him. You don’t want to watch him fall into the honeyed trap of isolation again, return to that shell of a man you only just helped him shed.

So when you’re watching tv together, he makes sure to cradle you to his chest extra tight. When you’re sitting by the fireplace, heat radiating off your skin, he makes sure to memorize the way the fire illuminates your face. When you’re whispering his name after a night of love-making he etches the sound deep into his synapses, memorizing each syllable.

No matter what, he’ll remember you.

By your sixties you’re faced with an awful truth, one neither of you want to admit but your smile lines and crows feet stand contrast to his barely aging face. You get stares when you mention he’s your husband, some curious, some judging. You were called a cougar once by a shopper, finger pointed accusatory while Logan told her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.

He was there to reassure you then, but he can’t be there all the time. You don’t tell him that this wasn’t the first time you were accused of being a predator, and you don’t plan on doing so. 

Maybe this counts as acceptance, faced with the truth in the worst kind of way, but at least the both of you can say it out loud now—

You’re going to die, and he’s going to outlive you. It’s just a fact, but it still makes the both of you terrified.

Your seventies are rocky—you want to enjoy the time you have left, but Logan wants to make sure you’re safe. In his eyes you know he has only love for you, but you can see the fear in them too, how he coddles you every day. Your bones are starting to ache, you’re getting slower. Where you used to go on hikes with him you now choose to stay home, your stamina not like what it used to be. He thinks you don’t notice how he watches you carefully around the house, how he’s so eager to help you. You’re flattered, but also annoyed—it’s a short-lived train of thought when you look at him.

He still looks at you like he did when you first kissed. 

He still loves you, and you still love him. For now, that’s all you need.

He finds you on the floor in your eighties—eighty-three, to be exact.

The moment he sees your resting form behind the counter he sprints into the kitchen. There’s broken glass, a trail of blood running from your temple, and you’re completely out of it, eyes closed shut. He calls your name, shakes you, but nothing. He knows you’re still alive, he can hear your heart beating but he can feel how weak it is under his clammy hands, the soft thump nowhere near as strong as it should be.

He doesn’t know what to do—he’s long since been familiar with blood but this time it’s you, and he’s panicking. He doesn’t know what to do.

The ambulance arrives, longer than usual because you live far away from the city. Maybe if they’d gotten there faster they would have been able to do an infusion. Maybe if the phone wasn’t so far you’d be able to call 9-1-1 before you passed out. Maybe if he was at home he would’ve been able to see the early signs—

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He looks at the clock on the bedside wall: 7:38 pm. 

It’s well into the night, five hours have passed since you were admitted, and an hour since you died.

He’s been staring at your body for who knows how long. The doctor pronounced you dead, said you had a heart attack and hit your head on the way down. An accident.

A fucking accident.

“Sir, was she related to you?” The young nurse asks, contemplating whether or not she should even speak. Wordlessly, he nods.

“I understand you’re grieving,” she continues, standing at his side. Her words are full of empathy, none of which he needs but lets her speak anyway. “I saw on your hospital logs you share the same name, I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a loved one.”

He nods again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old was she?”

“…eighty-three.” He answers. “Her birthday was in a month.”

She shakes her head. “That’s a shame.”

“It sure is,” He says, reaching out to touch her hand. It’s cold to the touch, a cruel reminder. “It sure is.”

You would’ve been eighty-four now.

He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same without you. It’s lifeless, empty—all the love you poured into the decor now just an awful reminder of what he lost. He thinks about tearing it all down sometimes but he knows you’d probably kick his ass if he so much as touched your crystal vases.

Your side of the bedroom is untouched, he moved all his stuff to the separate one the week after you died. It hurts to sleep there knowing you’re gone, but sometimes he’ll sit by the nightstand, a drink in hand and stare at the empty spot where you would be. Sometimes if he stares hard enough, he can see you through tear-rimmed eyes, hear your laughter through the dull buzz of the alcohol.

He misses you. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he opens your closet. It’s an indulgence, a moment of weakness—he promised he wouldn’t touch your stuff and here he is, rummaging about. 

Coats, dresses, shirts, all memories flooding back to him as he moves past them. The black dress you wore on your first date, the sundress you wore for your anniversary—

When his fingers brush against the lace, his heart lurches. He doesn’t need to see it to know, but he tugs anyway, revealing your wedding dress hidden deep inside. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever worn.

He takes the gown between reverent hands, as if the fabric would fall apart, disintegrate if he was anything but cautious with it. It still smells like you.

He finds the box labeled “wedding” next to it, and without hesitation pulls it from its corner. Wedding invites, flowers, old videos, everything that you could have taken as a memory, you had it. You even kept the cake toppers.

What surprises him though, is a notebook. It’s tiny, leather bound and slightly worn, every page a new entry. He flips to the first page and his heart nearly stops.

Dear Logan,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.

His eyes widened. When did you write this? The small book suddenly feels like lead in his hands, it’s a struggle to pull his eyes back to the ink-stained pages, but he does so anyway.

I hope I managed to give this to you before I pass. I wish I could explain to you how much I love you, and how much I worry about you. You’re a stubborn asshole, could never see the good in yourself but I did—I still do. I’ve known you for thirty years now so I’m willing to bet you’re probably reading this drunk, blaming yourself for my death.

He doesn’t know when he started crying but your words make him laugh through the pain, wiping the palm of his hand against his cheek. He used to say you were secretly a telepath, always able to read his mind. Seems it’s a talent that extends beyond the grave.

Anyway, rambling aside, I wanted to give you something to remember me by. You’re going to live longer than I am, we both know that: but maybe my memory can live along with you.

His hands are shaking, fingers stumbling through the next page with bated breath.

Entry one, not sure how I should start…I’ll figure it out later. Your beard grew out a little so I offered to help you shave…

I think I did a shit job but you didn’t seem to mind, or maybe you were trying to save my feelings? I don't know which one. In any case remember to take care of yourself, I might be gone but like hell if I’m gonna let you let yourself go!

Attached with a paperclip is a photo of the two of you in the bathroom, you smushing his face while he stares at the camera annoyed, or at least it seems. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

He remembers that day. You were cuddling him and complained his beard was scratchy. He let you sit on his lap while you gave him a trim, you said your lines were crooked but he didn’t give a shit—he had you all to himself, and that’s all he needed.

A small huff of laughter escapes him, even in the afterlife you’re still bossing him around. He flips to the next page—

Entry two, don’t isolate yourself! I know you Logan, that lone wolf shit doesn’t work and you know it too! When’s the last time you talked to the other X-Men, huh?

Your words rattle in his head, feelings of guilt blooming. They call occasionally, but he never picks up. Charles is the only one he ever gave the time of day and even then the mention of your passing is a sore subject. One time Scott showed up at his house, helped him clean up a bit before leaving; he never said thank you.

His eyes flick to the phone on his nightstand before continuing to read. 

Entry three, don’t starve yourself! I left a couple of my recipes in the last pages, just in case you missed my cooking…

Entry four, I have a secret album of us on my phone. The password is…

Entry five, stop being so hard on yourself…

Entry after entry, all stories with advice for when you’re gone. Clean up after himself, don’t try to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, remember to find a hobby…every single page, accompanied by a description of what you did that day. Went hiking, went on a dinner date, stayed at home and watched tv—almost an entire year's worth of reminiscing in the form of a tiny brown journal.

By the time he got to the last one the sun had begun to rise. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but the thought of stopping never crossed his mind.

The big three-six-five, happy anniversary! It’s been a year since I started this project and I think I should end it here, so I’ll end it with the best advice I can give you.

Logan, you need to move on.

I know it hurts, but I’m gone, and you can’t spend your life chasing after a woman who isn’t here anymore. You deserve more in life than to grieve. I love you more than anything in the world, which is why I’m telling you it’s okay to move on.

I’ll always be with you, so don’t think that you need to feel guilty. I know you love me, and I love you.

I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

He re-reads your words. Once, twice, even three times before they really sink in. I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

At that moment it all comes crashing down on him. Your death, the funeral, the pain and longing, the grief—all of it. Everything he’d ever tried to push aside by drinking, culminating into this single release of emotion.

He cries. A full-bodied, pathetic display, he sobbed while holding your last memory to his chest until he was red in the face, until his lungs burned. He sobbed until he had no more tears to give, then sobbed some more.

Even in death, you were still listening.

[luminique]

HEAR ME OUT, one sided love?? Imagine s/o doesn’t like lighter back, being oblivious about lighters feeling and only see lighter as a friend meanwhile lighter is so MADLY in love with them and is aware of s/o not liking him back but he can’t help it because you’re the only one that makes him feel this way even if his feelings aren’t reciprocated… they’re so doomed think about the potential angst!! 🫤

lighter isn’t perfect. his body is littered in scars of his past, his actions are solutions to mistakes he had made before. to say that he deserved something as rewarding as love didn’t sound right to him, but oh, would it feel right if it was from you.

it was definitely not an immediate fall, rather it was slower like starting a fire. you bring the materials you require, some wood and a starter. it’s difficult to get a fire going, even he knows that with his lighter in hand. his hand gets warmer the longer the flame is out but it doesn’t compare to the accidental grazes of your hand against his gloved ones.

he had poked you once with the spikes on his gloves. the look on your face when you brought your hand up to rub it while you apologized for it. why were you apologizing? every soft “sorry” that came out of your mouth was like sprinkling water onto the fire. best to get fresh firewood so that it doesn’t go out.

ensuring that the fire is a consistent flame is also important to prevent accidents. accidents like playfully taking off his sunglasses and putting it on yourself while imitating him. somehow, that didn’t cause the fire to go out, in fact, it made it burn even brighter than before. the redness on his face when he watched you was comparable to the orange and red hues of a fire.

he stayed close to the fire, close to you. feeling the warmth of love on his skin, finding it calming but also terrifying. it doesn’t rain often in the outer ring but that doesn’t stop him from worrying that it would all of a sudden. so he lies awake at night, thinking about all of the possibilities, the what ifs and its outcomes.

he thought he had considered everything. from keeping the fire from going out, to ensuring it was a stable flame, to tending it slowly and carefully. what he didn’t consider was getting too close to the fire, burning through what he thought was tough skin.

he was too focused on trying to maintain a certain personality, not quite showing his interest in you. so when caesar was talking to you about her love stories while everyone was hanging around the bar, his heart rate increased. just like how consuming alcohol affects one’s mental and physical state, so does it affect a fire. maybe someone poured his drink into the flames as he watched it burn even brighter than before, making him eavesdrop on your conversation.

but a large flame meant a higher possibility of getting burnt, and soon he saw the burn marks on his skin. as you continued to talk with caesar, the longer he let the fire burn him. how you had said that real love wasn’t like the stories, how you seemed disinterested in romance, how you had believed that no one was interested in you. at that moment, he ended up getting more drinks from burnice, hoping it would soothe the roaring flames within him. he drank so much and fell asleep to the soft crackling of the fire, your voice acting as background noise.

he woke up to the coldness of the bar counter pressing on his cheek. the fire had been put out by you when you tapped on his shoulder. the memories of last night flooding into his mind like water. maybe it was all some nightmare and you did like him back, but the sudden coolness of your touch made him realize the reality of it all.

you didn’t like him, and not because he did anything wrong but because he didn’t do anything in your eyes. you were feeding the fire in his heart and he mistook that fire for your heart too. he sat up straight, took one look at you and shook his head. you still cared for him, came with water and woke him up gently. he never intended to get so severely injured because of his own growing feelings for you.

his own feelings, you didn’t even know he had any for you. the pile of ashes, you both stared at it and yet only he knew that fire existed. the flames had misled him, danced around his heart that craved for you, that only asked for you as its fuel. now all he can do was sit next to what was once a big fire, feeling the cold on his skin despite the layers. no warmth left, no light left, no love left.

[lovesickgoose]

Hello, you may be my only hope. Can you draw someone taking care of spy? He can be wounded or anything of the sort, I just want someone to care for spy :(

Comfort your spy

[dreamings-free]

Hi

[nottheweirdest]

Damn, the author. I'm not going to hurt you in a good way…. DAMN IT, THE 20TH PART OF A BLANK SLATE IS THE WILDEST THING THAT HAPPENED IN YOUR WORK. I'M GLAD, TELL ME THEY'LL END UP TOGETHER AND BE HAPPY?????!!!!!

LMAO but I swear I'm nice most of the time please don't hurt me 😝

For real though, thank you! That was a very telenovela inspired chapter lol But yes, that fic is endgame Sonadow, I mean all my fics are! Angst with a happy ending! Hang in there my friend!!

[littlest-bugz]

The other day you posted about the last person you liked. do you still like them? would you get with them if given the chance?

also can I claim 👻anon cuz that seems cool

HELLO!!! Thank you so much for the ask!!

I got all twisty and turny inside because THIS IS COMPLICATED. Really complicated. If you asked this question, like, 2 months ago I would've said "No >:( Fuck him >:(" because he did something that kind of gave me the ick.

Much Needed Context: I've known this dude since high school. He was my ex-best friend's boyfriend [they r broken up now]. The story of how I came to like him started bc we started hanging out alone. He wanted help w/ my ex-bestie. He was always going out of his way to do anything to make her happy, and it was honestly SO cute. I would've called him a simp in the most loving way possible. But I started liking him, very VERY VERY involuntarily, because he ended up being the first guy I had ever felt safe around. He was very kind, respected my boundaries- Things that are bare minimums really, but I was not his partner so I didn't expect much more than him being a good friend. He was actually a great friend, and because of that, I fell hard for him. I only realized it when, at my graduation party, he held my face in his hands as I was crying and was reassuring me, and it just clicked [it's actually making me tear up DKBJFVJBHF]. Eventually my ex-bestie and I had a falling out, and I blocked her AND him on my phone. I didn't want my ex-bestie talking to me thru him. In hindsight, the falling out is really stupid. Really unjustified and I was being manipulated by someone to do it. It was. not a good time. Cut to about a year later- I don't remember how he got back into contact with me, but he does, and we hang out on fourth of july- shoot off a bunch of fireworks nd stuff- Just solidified me liking him [despite the fact 1. I hate fourth of july and 2. I hate fireworks].

ANYWAYS, We had been talking for a month or so, and I guess I wasn't quick enough to shoot my shot cause he ended up dating this really icky girl. On top of that- it was his best friends ex. It was honestly really out of character from him- I honestly think he was probably down bad. I told him I would hang out with him, as long as his girl wasn't there be there bc... she's icky and I didn't like her [I have justified reasons, but im not stating them]. And after that communication fizzled out. I'm the one who eventually stopped because, like, he's got a girl, and I was very interested in him.

THAT LEADS INTO ACTUALLY ANSWERING YOUR QUESTION!!! lol. I honestly do still like him- or maybe just the memory of him and how he's always treated me. I honestly would date him if he wasn't with his girl. I would actually take that in a fucking heartbeat, 110%, but we don't talk anymore. I'd reach out to him again or something, but I don't want to interfere when he's got a girl- Since I'm down bad for him iykwim. But alas </3 He's got a girl, and I'm too anxious to reach out again. So I'm left to try nd move on.

And yes, you can claim that anon <33

[rufusx2]

dear anon (though i do know who you are, so i'm writing this with you in mind):

this is true, nothing you have said is something i would necessarily disagree with. the post is satirical and the longer work is about my own flawed thinking (though i will likely not post it in it's entirety until it is done, all of my meowing is just for snippets, though i understand that it can come across as strange or concerning if you are unaware of this as i have not posted my blog organization anywhere. in fact, the on;y posts of mine UNRELATED to my main bodies of work, my songwriting, are the photo posts organized under "#blinks").

this is the purpose of using language like "flawed in the right way"- i know my own lines of thinking are most definitely caused by societal problems, and they are not productive nor based in logic. even my blog header ("you delicate, precious, dying thing!") is supposed to bring to mind the "ideal" female body as being delicate and starved (which is a bad thing for people with a brain... but not for the narrator!). being born "right" (or "rightwrong" as i tend to refer to it, which is just a heavyhanded way of pointing out that calling yourself "born right" is flawed thinking) is not an actual thing, though i cannot help but loop back into this logic of "if only i had been born as somebody else" forgetting, of course, that i will only ever be myself. i focus on my own female form (and wishing to have been born differently) as a manifestation of poor body image (weight related) and self hatred (in terms of personality). if i had the power to be born differently, a "better" person, my brain (or i guess *I* would, i use "my brain" as a way of distancing myself from my own bad thoughts which is probably not helping the problem) would make this person male- the point is that not only is the premise impossible, but being a "better" person is impossible if you completely change yourself, and using this line of logic we can see that the CONCLUSIONS myself, or rather, the narrator of the piece of writing, (if i'm to be neutral and detached and pretend that it's NOT me saying all this), are also incorrect, and impossible regardless which makes dwelling upon them pointless in the first place. it's a futile line of thinking, and every word is clouded through a thick layer of rosy haze. i would even be inclined to at some points call it christocentric... this is why i used "wwjd" in a sarcastic way in some of my posts (that may or may not be publicly visible yet due to my queue system). take that how you will.

calling the female form flawed was not a way of thinking that the reader/listener is supposed to agree with (though again, it is a disembodied snippet, so of course you wouldn't know this upon reading so i don't blame you for not picking up on it. i am fine! i know there is nothing wrong with my body. and yet... i feel my own mind needling at me). i wouldn't exactly say that my writings are explicitly feminist, because that implies a conscious agenda and explicit political messaging when really it's all just personal anecdotes, but since i would describe myself as being a feminist i think the undertones bleed through. or at least, i hope they will when i do eventually release more.

i know i can never have what i want, and i know that what i want is NOT rational, or good, and is entirely based in heteropatriarchal ideas, but i can't help myself and i need to confront that desire frankly in order to identify it. you can't exactly get a good look at yourself if you close your eyes when you approach the mirror, and this is how i feel about ignoring these thoughts. i cannot pretend that i do not feel this way, and i dont really think it services anyone to pretend i always feel positively about my body. wallowing in them isn't always helpful for the wallow-er, but it perhaps CAN be for a witness who doesn't realize that they are not alone in their way of existing. there are many ways to be, in this body, and others like it, and while negativity is a symptom of a larger problem i have to be honest about it.

[callilouv]

First of all, you’re extremely funny and a joy to be seen on dash. Your bantering with other moots feel like a sitcom to me :) I know you talked about how you don’t like sappy stuff all that much, so I apologise if this whole ask isn’t to your taste, but you’re like a ray of sunshine. Many people love and care for you, even if you might think otherwise at time, but your presence is important—like the sun! The energy you create with your friends is so homey and full of friendship (even if it’s full of playful insults. There’s such an interesting connection there)

Second of all, and you probably saw it coming, your art. It’s very pretty and lively. I cannot fathom the idea of an actual living figure drawing the things you’ve created, and I always admire in awe.

Uh but that’s it. I hope you have a great day ☀️

man i was not expectng long shi in my inbox after rbing that AT ALL grrrrrrggr everybody is too nice to me stop it >:( /j HELSPBXJ

[classyrbf]

Hiii, i love your blog sosomuch. can i req like angst/comfort fic nanami? maybe nanami is like a bittttttt of an ass

ARE YOU STILL MINE! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...you feel as though your husband has become too distant from you and your marriage is hanging on by a thread

INFO...nanami x fem!reader, nanami is bit mean, mentions of cheating but no actual cheating, angst (obvi), reader is insecure with herself, mentions of divorce, comfort at the end, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thank you so much anon, I hope you enjoy your request!

At first it started out with him staying at work later than usual, coming home at strange times in the night where you had fallen asleep on the couch because you were waiting for him. He’d merely just glance at you, thinking you opted for the couch rather than the bed, walking into the room to go to bed instead of waking you. Then, he started talking less, being very distant, dry with his responses every time you’d brought up an interest of yours. He’d play with his food, moving it around on the plate like a picky child while humming responses. Then, you started not seeing him at all, every morning you opened your eyes he was gone and every night you couldn’t bear staying awake any longer than needed. And lastly, you began to feel alone, the house that you shared with your husband started to feel like you were now sharing it with a roommate. Was your marriage on the brink of divorce?

Another morning, another day of waking up to an empty bed. You rolled over, the sheet crinkled from where he slept but ultimately felt cold. It was a daily routine for you now, though you can’t grow accustomed to it no matter what you do. Its disappointing. Sad. All of your friends gush about their husbands bringing them gifts, going on vacation, and the cherry on top was soon one of your friends was having a baby. You sat there the whole time, staring off into the distance because you couldn’t remember the last time kento had even got you a gift, let alone uttered a word to you.

You stared at the diamond ring that adorned your finger, contemplating if this was at all really worth it anymore. Why stay in a marriage you weren’t happy in? But before making any rash decisions, you knew you needed to talk with him before anything. That’s if you even get the chance to. Lazily dragging your feet across the kitchen floor, you opened the fridge and realized he had left his lunchbox, leaving the food you made last night. You grabbed it, letting out a deep sigh. Should you even bring it? Yes, get out the house and get some fresh air. No, you’re just gonna waste your time and he won’t even eat it.

After fully waking up, you got dressed and grabbed his lunch box off of the counter. You walked past the mirror in the hall, keys in hand before you came to a complete stop to look at yourself. Jeans and a shirt with tacky sneakers that didn’t even match. And your eye bags just added onto it. God, you looked horrible. He wouldn’t want to see you like this. Especially not at his job.

With summer breeze, you were quick to change into a pretty sundress Nanami had gotten you last winter, along with some wedged heels to top off the look. And quickly, you ran to bathroom to apply makeup, nothing too heavy but just enough to make it look like you were at least taking care of yourself properly. You smeared the pink gloss along your lined lips, leaning towards the mirror to make sure you looked good. Still, you didn’t feel satisfied, but it’ll have to do.

You sat in the car for another minute, applying another coat of mascara before heading into the building. Nerves struck through your entire body, something similar to a first date. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, your own husband, that it now feels like seeing him for the first time. The thought made your frown as you stepped foot inside. You greeted the woman at the desk. “Hi, I’m here to drop my husbands lunch he forgot it at home. Nanami Kento.” You kindly smiled.

“Oh! You’re Mr. Nanami’s wife! Pleasure to meet you!” She bowed, smiling. “You’re free to head to his office.”

“Thank you!” Your heels click against the marble flooring, walking towards the elevator and pressing the button with a shaky hand. You wondered if he’d be surprised to see you, greet you with a kiss or a hug. You grew hopeful, imagining finally being in his embrace after so long. You smiled, stepping out of the elevator and headed down the hall towards his office.

On the other side of the door you could hear your husband laughing, talking with someone. But jealousy and insecurity buried a pit in your chest when you heard a woman laugh along with him. You barged into the office, taking site of the two sitting across the desk from one another. Your husbands eyes shot up towards you and the woman glanced over her shoulder with a confused look.

“Y/n?” He stood from his chair, walking over to you. “Sorry, this is my wife.” He awkwardly laughed, looking at the woman who was now standing.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nanami.” She bowed, a small smile on her lips.

“H-hello.” You shakily replied, looking between her and your husband.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered, brows furrowed. From his tone, he sounded slightly annoyed, like you had interrupted something important.

“You forgot your lunch I thought—”

“I already had lunch. No need.” He easily dismissed you, shaking his head. “I’m having an important discussion right now, so I’ll see you at home.” He walked you out of his office, shutting the door behind you. No goodbye. No kiss. Not even a hug. I’ll see you at home. What a joke.

You sat in the bath, bubbles surrounding you and scented candles lit on the sink. The diamond ring on your finger glistened under the dim light as you stared at it, a sour taste forming in your mouth when you remembered earlier today. Who was that woman? Clearly she worked there, but she was so much younger, prettier, and she was making Nanami laugh. He was in such a rush to push you out, claiming he had eaten already. God, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was cheating. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Forget the talk.

You’ve forgotten how long you’ve been sitting in here now, but you were surprised when you heard the front door open. Reaching for your phone, it was only five at night, pretty early for him to be home nowadays. You just soaked in the bath, hearing his footsteps grow closer and closer until he reached your bedroom. Nanami, noticed the bathroom light, walking in and seeing you in the tub. “Hey, honey.” It’s felt like years since he’s called you any type of pet name, or anything in general.

“I was just getting out. I’ll finish after you’ve done doing what you need to do.” You reach for your towel on the rack, before Nanami stops you.

“Woah, woah, can I not join you?” He chuckled, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“No. Not in the mood.” You snatched the towel, wrapping it around your body before stepping out the tub, blowing out the scented candle and grabbing your phone. “Enjoy your shower.”

“Honey, if this is about earlier today, I apologize. I was interviewing her for a position—”

“God, you really haven’t noticed it?” You were at your breaking point, on the verge of tears from all the hurt you’ve been holding in for the last few months.

“I’m sorry I don’t know—”

“I want a divorce.” The words came out of your mouth as smooth as silk, leaving him shocked.

“Wait, wait! Sweetheart, talk to me first please?” He almost sounded desperate, reaching for you as you walked away into the bedroom. He quickly followed behind you. “Say something.”

“These last few months have been hell! You come home late, leave early, I don’t even see my own husband anymore. We don’t even talk to or at least text each other. And then I walk in, seeing you laughing and talking with some woman and god, the worst comes to my head because my husband hasn’t been mine for last three months! We haven’t kissed, hugged, or even had sex in so long. And then I get all dressed up for you and you push me out of there like I’m a stranger and then you come home and act like everything is okay! I’m not okay!” You scream, tears pooling in your eyes. “I feel so alone. So jealous and insecure.” You sob, turning away from him because he doesn’t deserve your tears, he doesn’t deserve to see you so weak and broken.

“Honey, I am so fucking sorry. God, please look at me. Baby.” His soft voice makes you want to rebel against everything you’re standing for right now, wanting to turn to him and hug him and kiss him. You feel his soft hands on your shoulder. “I am so sorry for making you feel less than what you truly are.”

“Are you cheating on me?” You managed to ask through tears.

“What?!” He says shocked. “No, fuck, of course not!” He couldn’t believe his ears, turning you around on his own, pulling you to look at him. He’s not surprised you think he’s having an affair with the way he’s been acting lately. But the truth is, he’s been distant because of a surprise. “I could never cheat on you. It disgusts me to even think about it, darling.” He caresses your face gently, holding it in his hands.

“Then what is it? Do you not love me anymore?” You hiccup, staring at him with teary eyes.

“I’m madly in love with you! I know these past few months, I’ve been horrible at showing it, treating you like you’re nothing when you’re everything. If I knew this would have such a horrible effect on you, I would’ve told you sooner instead of wanting to surprise you.” He let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. Disappointment within himself for putting you in such a position.

“What? What surprise?” You looked at him confused, browns knitting together. He sat you on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his as he kneeled in front you. “Kento…”

“I’ve been working so hard because I was planning our future. Saving up to move to Malaysia. I wanted it to be a surprise, but, I can’t keep seeing you like this. I’ve been working to save up more money, I’ve been searching for houses and talking to realtors on the phone. I’ve been exhausted, honey, but that’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you like an afterthought.” He kissed your palm. “Please forgive me. I am so, so, sorry.” He kissed your hand again, resting his head on your lap. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave me. Just hearing those words leave your mouth earlier scared the shit out of me. I can’t lose you. I love you so much.” He chokes back tears, holding you tightly.

You sit there shocked, completely and utterly shocked. While his actions were no excuse, you still can’t believe the reasoning behind it all. “Ken,” you mutter, running your fingers through his soft blonde hair. He kisses your hand once more, lifting his head to stare up at you.

“I’ll do anything if you just stay. I’ll do anything for you, sweetheart. I need you to know that.” Your heart pounds against your ribcage as he crawls up towards you, cupping your face. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so—mmph—sorry.” He kisses you between words, pressing his lips to yours. You haven’t felt his kisses in so long but it’s like they never left, feeling his firm grip on you as he kissed you so sweetly, each one filled with so much passion and desire.

“Baby, Ken, I forgive you. Okay?” You pull away. “Just…please, don’t ever do that to me again. I don’t care what it is, do not make me feel like I’m any less important. I can’t believe you’ve been working your ass off just so we could move to Malaysia, carrying the burden by yourself when you know I’m right here.” Your eyes search his.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I know I should’ve said something, I just…I don’t know. It’s doesn’t matter anymore, yeah? I’ve still got some extra work to do for the next two weeks until it’s settled, so don’t think I’m going back on my word. I swear I’m not.” He pecked your lips.

“Okay, I understand. Can I at least ask where in Malaysia?” You smiled, holding his hand.

“That, I am keeping a surprise.” He shook his head. “I just can’t wait to see the look on your beautiful face when you see it.” He quickly scooped you up in his arms, walking into the bathroom. “Shower with me? It’s been so long since we’ve—”

“Of course. I’ve missed you so much, Ken.”

His eyes glistened as he stared at you, smiling like an idiot in love. “You looked beautiful earlier today. I noticed you were wearing the sundress I had bought you. I can confidently say that it hugs you in the all right places. If there were no one in my office, I would have taken you right then and there, sweetheart.”

“Ken!” You shout in surprise, covering your mouth as you stifled back a laugh. “Please just get undressed so we can shower!”

“It’s good to see a smile back on your face.”

[ohdeerfully]

alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously. 

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long. 

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.” 

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right. 

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a fem!reader who instead of not wanting kids can’t have kids?

This is a popular request, anon. I've had several submissions from various users. Since the theme/idea is similar, I thought I would combine them into one.

Heavy angst ahead, folks. I decided not to sugarcoat with this one. It's heartbreaking. It's sad. And yes, there is comfort and love mixed in.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, angst, infertility, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of surgical procedure, emotional hurt/comfort, implied abortion/d&c, minor blood

Word Count: 900

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

This time, it sticks.

Somehow.

Miraculously.

After years of struggling, of being told it would never happen, of false results and shattered hopes—it’s happening.

You’d be in denial if it wasn’t for the test results in your hand. It is solid, a print out of what your doctor told you over the phone.

John stands next to you, reading the piece of paper over your shoulder. His shoulders are riddled with tension, lips a thin line. It’s clear that he wants to join in on your joy, but something holds him back.

“Are you happy?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

“I am—I.” John clears his throat. “But last time?”

Last time looked just like this. Last time everything was fine—until it wasn’t. Until the blood and the pain and the hospital visit.

“It might not be like last time.”

John gently grasps the sides of your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t have to. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“It’s okay, John.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, and John places his lips to your forehead. “I worry.”

“I know,” you murmur, turning your face into his touch. “But you’re here. And that’s all that matters.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

It all has to go. All of it. There is too much damage.

No uterus. No fallopian tubes. No ovaries.

Gone. All of it. Gone.

Johnny sits next to you on the sofa, his head in his hands. His sigh is heavy as he rubs at his face. When he comes up for air, you know his world is shattered, just likes yours.

“The surgeon said they might be able to save some eggs.” Even you don’t believe the words leaving your mouth. It’s a farce.

“Might?” asks Johnny.

“They won’t know until they’re actually inside.”

Johnny is oddly silent. It’s not like him to be quiet.

“Are you upset?” you ask, tentatively.

“No,” he says sharply. “Not with you. Never with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because an apology feels right but you’re not sure why you’re doing it at all.

Johnny places his hand on your knee, squeezing gently. “For what?”

Tears pool, threatening to spill over. “For not being enough.”

He leans in, face serious. “The fact that you think that at all means I’ve failed you. That I haven’t loved you enough.”

“Johnny.”

He draws you in. “This doesn’t make you less worthy of my love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

A heartrate monitor beeps nearby. They’ll release you soon now that you’re awake and aware.

It’s all coming back in pieces.

You remember the cramping, the spotting, and then the bleeding that wouldn’t stop. You remember the cold linoleum floor against your cheek, of losing consciousness, of gaining it again only for the room to spin. You remember how cold you were, and Simon’s hands—of how his voice cracked when he said your name.

You don’t recall the trip to the hospital. You only remember how Simon demanded help while the staff told him he needed to calm down.

But he’s here now—and no one is yelling. He sits in a chair next to your hospital bed, face grim and skin pale like he hasn’t slept in days.

There have almost always been complications—always been issues while trying to conceive, but of those that have ended, it’s never been like this.

You turn your head, and as if sensing you, Simon glances up from his silent musings. You offer your hand. Simon takes it, and though he doesn’t squeeze hard, you feel the desperation in the way he clings to you.

“I’m not risking you. Never again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your friend opens the gift, presenting it to the gathered crowd. Everyone fawns over the set of baby blankets. There are several in total, all pale pastels.

You smile and agree that it’s a wonderful gift. Outwardly, everything is fine. Internally, your mind is still at home, lingering on the four pregnancy tests hidden in the bathroom bin beneath a pile of toilet paper.

Each one negative. Each one a glaring stain on the long list of failures.

Kyle emerges from the kitchen with the father-to-be, a massive grin on his face. This baby shower is a reminder to you of all your shortcomings. For Kyle, this is hope—a vision of the future.

And you haven’t told him. Haven’t said a word about those four negative tests.

How many years of trying now?

But you’re still young.

Don’t stress about it.

It’s so easy for others to stick their nose in, which is why you don’t share anymore.

Kyle plops down next to you. The happiness there is palpable, so thick it’s almost like butter on the tongue. You’re going to shatter it—hurt him yet again.

He presents his hand, palm upward.

You snatch it like a lifeline, and squeeze—hard. Kyle frowns at your entwined fingers. His gaze sweeps upward.

In your friend’s hands is a onesie for a newborn. Everyone coos, and something in you breaks. You’re smiling, but you sense the threatening tears.

Kyle’s frown shifts to a sad smile.

He knows. You don’t have to say anything.

Lifting your joined hands, Kyle brings the back of your palm to his lips. Placing a quick kiss there, he then kisses your forehead. He adds another kiss to spot just behind your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

No one is watching.

“I love you.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[beloveds-embrace]

https://www.tumblr.com/beloveds-embrace/769747896273862656/im-sorry-did-you-say-neglected-omega?source=share

You can't just drop that bomb on us. I feels like I should sue u for emotional damage

I very kindly request some fluff with this 🙏🙏

Can i be 🦋 anon? Pretty pretty please

if i got sued for emotional damage each time I fear i’d have to declare bankruptcy 😭 but ne ways, here you go 🦋 anon! <3

The room still smells faintly of a sour, lonely heat, even weeks later. No matter how many times Gaz scrubs the floors or Price washes the sheets (when you are not there yourself, with your own permission because for all that you wanted to just… keep them away, you had no strength or will to clean the room. That was the only inch you were willing to give), the scent lingers- a sharp reminder of everything they let happen.

Everything they let you go through alone.

They’re careful around you now. Slow. Quiet. Desperate not to spook you, not to push you any further away than they already have. But the distance is unbearable. It feels like walking on glass, and no matter how hard they try to reach you, you stay just out of reach.

So they simply try harder.

Price leaves things outside your door- practical, thoughtful things. Your favorite snacks, warm socks, a thermos of tea that stays hot for hours. Quiet gestures that let you know he’s paying attention. Sometimes he sits outside your room, low voice rumbling through the wood as he tells you about his day. Nothing important, just pieces of himself- things he’s never given anyone else.

Soap is softer, but more desperate.

He leaves drawings, slips them under your door like little apologies. Sketches of you smiling, of the pack piled together, happy and whole. There’s always a note attached.

I’m sorry, bonnie.

Please let me fix this.

And then one day, he spots one of them taped to your wall.

It’s small, but it’s something. It’s enough to lighten his heart just a little, giving him a sliver of hope.

Gaz doesn’t say much, but he does.

He cooks for you, warm homemade meals left outside your door. He waits, heart twisting every time the plate is left untouched. But then one morning, the food is gone, and he has to duck into an empty room so no one sees his reaction. He’d been so stressed seeing you thinner than he remembered, not eating as much as you should’ve, but he feels so, so much better when the plates he leaves you are cleared- eaten, and not just picked at.

Ghost doesn’t know how to fix this with words, so he doesn’t try. .

Instead, he sharpens your knives. Fixes the drafty window. Reinforces your bedframe even if all he wants is for you to return to them, to their nest. Leaves a scarf that smells like him. Little things, pieces of himself, pieces of his devotion.

Because even if you never let him close again, he needs you to know

He’s not leaving. He almost doubts himself, lets his fears cloud his judgement, until he sees the scarf around your neck one day.

It’s slow. God, it’s so slow, but they persist and don’t give up. Never even consider it for one precious second, not when it’s you they could lose.

But one night, Price finds you in the kitchen wearing his jacket.

You freeze when you see him, and for a second, he thinks you’ll run.

You stay.

“…It’s late.” You whisper, shuffling your feet. He smells your hesitance, your worries and fears, and hopes the distance he keeps soothes you. The thought of you feeling like that because of him… it leaves the taste of ash coating his throat.

“So it is.”

And yet, you don’t leave. You don’t push him away, or pull back when he slowly walks closer towards you. You just look at him, eyes tired and sad and-

It’s not forgiveness, when you let him gently caress the back of his hand against your cheeks.

But it’s a start.

[chazz-is-a-zelda-fan]

(mmnmmm right now...? non.... not yet...... but!! if you want.... i can cook up some ideas for that.... sometime!)

our destination.... would be ilex forest... a comfort place of mine and my celebi's c:

we arrive there.... right next to the shrine.... i get off of latios..... it seems like my celebi joins in shortly after.... with no sign of the unown king behind it......... -🖤

(oooh yes please!! but only if you'd really wanna, i dont wanna pressure you into a story you might not enjoy)

when Beryllium comes to, all he sees is soft green. the trees of Ilex Forest rise up around them, shading them in darkness, but it's nothing like the pitch-black of the void. this is softer, more alive. kyan immediately thinks they're dead. what else could it be? their last memory was getting ready to face the Unown King with Groudon, already succumbing to the effects of their corruption. this place seemed like heaven, so calm and serene. he didn't think there was a heaven for code like kyan. slowly, Beryllium sits up. their back is to a tree, and kyan takes a second to register a shrine just to his right.

the soft patter of footsteps on grass are enough to return their gaze in front of them, and Beryllium finally realizes that he's alive. Latias rests next to her trainer, head laying by their knee. you walk over to Beryllium, unsure if he’s stable enough to talk. luckily, kyan answers that question for you.

“…Gold? is that you?” Bery gently raises his head to look at you, eye returned back to normal. you nod in response, Unowns around you asking "ARE YOU OKAY?" kyan takes a second to answer, still taking a minute to process that you're in front of them, before weakly saying "yeah... yeah, i'm fine." your face is still full of concern, and Beryllium's gaze lowers back down to the grass again. this is the second time kyan's passed out in front of you, and this time he could've died. they wish they could apologize, but Beryllium can't find the words.

you don't know what to say either, so the both of you are there in an awkward silence. but a light flash behind you catches your attention, and you hesitantly turn away from Beryllium. it's Celebi, and luckily, there doesn't seem to be any sign of the Unown King behind them. you two have a quick conversation, but you hear the sound of a Pokeball opening behind you and Blaziken's cry. turning back to kyan and the fire type, you and Celebi see Blaziken shaking his trainer back and forth, with Latias trying to intervene. you can hear them from where you are, next to the shrine.

"BERYLLIUM, BERYLLIUM! DON'T YOU EVER DARE DO THAT AGAIN YOU SCARED ME SO BAD!!" "Blaziken, it's okay, we're fine now-" "YEAH, NOW!! BUT YOU COULD'VE GOTTEN REALLY HURT! LET ME HELP NEXT TIME!!" "uhm, guys, they're staring..." "Blaziken, please, we're okay now! we have someone to thank for that..." Beryllium turned to face you, Blaziken following suit. the Pokemon lowered their head, before pulling kyan into a tight hug. Bery simply tried his best to comfort the Pokemon back, with Latias nudging them both.

Beryllium's eye never left yours, mouthing a quiet "thank you." before returning to calming their Pokemon.

[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[vivalarevolution]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷

Paul Atreides x Reader

Request: „Paul Atreides falling in love with his father's younger wife, whom he recently married for political reasons, yet he remains loyal and in love with Jessica.‟

A/N: Request from anon. A very interesting concept that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. As always, I hope you will like reading my work, especially since this is my first attempt at writing for Paul Atreides.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes might happen.

She reminded him of a goddess , a being from ancient books that survived the destruction of Old Terra. She was beautiful like Aphordite , full of warmth as Hestia and innocent and sensitive as Persephone. Yet her eyes were full of sadness , like those belonging to Oizys.

And the young duke hated it.

He hated her sadness. The sadness which was caused by his own father. Leto Atreides married her , but there was no love between them , there was only darkness and misery that was draining the young woman from the inside. In Paul's eyes, his father's actions were cruel. He did not deserve such a delicate soul , and much less he deserve it to destroy it.

He tried , almost desperately , to understand the man when his eyes followed him with his own mother , but in vain. Because he loved the woman he could not have too much to forgive him for what he did to her.

So he stopped. He stopped looking for forgiveness , which never existed.

Instead, he surrendered to the arms of forbidden desire , surrendered to the feelings he had been hiding so deeply inside himself, surrendered to her will without her even knowing.

His shadow began to follow hers, her steps became his steps , her breath became his breath.

And suddenly Paul Atreides became everything to her that his father never was. He became her protector , her rock , her guardian , her savior.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He had to have more.

He found her in her chambers , she was sitting on one of the many cushions, reading. But when she felt a presence behind her she stopped , turning her head to the side , looking out of the corner of her eye at the young duke.

-Paul - she said softly , turning fully in his direction - What brings you to me? - she asked him , closing the book , which suddenly no longer seemed interesting to her.

He didn't answer , not immediately.

But as the silence lengthened between them , the tension begin to grow as well.

-I want you - he replied suddenly , and despite the seriousness of the sentence his voice was composed , remarkably calm.

-What? - the woman whispered, shocked.

His words seemed to cut through the air like the sharpest knife, leaving behind a mark that was impossible to erase.

-I want you - he repeated , slowly approaching her figure.

She watched his movements , stopping only when the brunet kneeled before her.

-But you already have me - she said , placing her hand on his pale cheek.

Paul grabbed her wrist and closed his eyes allowing her addictive scent to dull his senses.

-Not in the way I would have wanted - he confessed , tasting her soft skin with his lips.

At his words, the woman pulled her hand from his hold , moving away from her husband's son.

-We can't. You know it's forbidden - she announced, furrowing her eyebrows.

-I know - he responded , getting up from his knees to approach her yet again - But no matter how cruel the truth is , my father does not love you , he never will. And I hate him for it, I hate him for marrying a woman he is not able to love.

-The world has always been cruel Paul. You cannot change it , you are in no position to. You are not a god - she said with a shadow of sorrow in her voice , feeling tears involuntarily flow into her eyes.

-But I can change the part of the world you belong to.There will be no more misery , no more pain - he declared, approaching her , trapping her between the wall and himself.

-Don't say that. I am begging you , don't say that - she whispered , closing her eyes, trying to push the brunet away from her, but to no avail.

The man kissed her cheekbones , nuzzling his face into her thick locks.

-Tell me the truth - he asked , but was met with silence - Tell me the truth - he repeated , but his voice no longer sounded familiar.

-I love you more than life itself Paul. I'm willing to die if it means I can taste your lips, even for a slight moment - she admitted, but although her words were sincere, it seemed to her as if someone pulled them out of her, without her permission.

-And I love you - he said - And believe me when I say this. I will never stop loving you. My love for you will only cease to exist when the sun will rise in the west and set in the east , when the seas go dry and mountains will blow in the wind like leaves.

-One day , you will regret those words Paul Atreides - she professed , feeling her breathing become more shallow and her eyes more clouded.

-Never - he growled , before attacking her full, pink lips.

His kisses were the opposite of him. They were burning , chaotic , dangerous.

But despite this , she desperately grabbed his shoulders , trying to pull him closer and closer. Their hands traveled over each other's bodies , as their lips tasted one another, never having enough. They seemed to have forgotten about everything except themselves.

Suddenly the mortal world no longer existed. There was no fear , sadness , or despair. In their place came lust , desire and love. Feelings that were forbidden to them.

But they didn't stopped.

They didn't stop when their bodies merged into one. They didn't stop when the first rays of sun appeared on the walls of her chambers.

They didn't stop because there was nothing strong enough to separate Paul Atreides from his goddess.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Heart-lifter, ft. Red Velvet Seulgi

tags: blowjob, anal teasing, first time anal

length: 10k

author's note: This fic was built on an idea sent by an anon, and this is a good opportunity to say that even though you can send ideas (complete with a plot or not), I decide whether I'll write it, and if I do end up writing it, I get to decide the way the plot progresses. I hope that won't discourage people from submitting their ideas.

-

Seulgi lowers the bill of her cap as she eyes this convenience store for the perfect opportunity for a quick in-and-out snatch.

“Fuck, am I really doing this?” Different versions of this question have been running amuck in her head, and for a good reason, too: Seulgi used to be standing on stage with bright lights shining on her, but ever since her agency folded, she was forced to do things that she normally wouldn’t (i.e. stealing) just so that she can get her hands on most-needed daily essentials.

Seulgi’s heart races: what if she gets caught? What if the police get involved? What if— “Ah, fuck it, I don’t have any other options.” Her good conscience tries so hard to convince her that there are other options, but no matter how much it’s trying to make Seulgi stop, she simply won’t, and as she’s approaching the shop, she puts on a mask and zips up her jacket to conceal herself better.

Once she’s in, she takes a few laps around the shop and takes mental notes of where the desired items are: soju is in the glass fridge at the back, pads and soaps are on the shelves in a nearby aisle, and finally, makeup are on the shelves across in the same aisle. “Do I want snacks as well?” Seulgi tries to estimate the size of the items she wants since they will all need to fit around her body, inside the jacket that’s not too big to begin with. “Maybe I can fit a pack of Oreo or two,” she thinks.

She stands in front of the big fridge, and the way the glass door is showing her reflection makes her question herself once more. Seulgi’s eyes wander off her target and shift towards her feet. “Fuck, mama would be so sad if she knew about this.”

“Excuse me, miss,” a voice snaps her out of her trance, “I want to grab something, so can you please move a little?” Her first instinct is to say sorry and step back, but she manages to stop herself from speaking just in time. There’s a possibility that this woman might recognize her based on hearing her voice, so she simply nods and moves away from the fridge.

Seulgi takes a momentary shelter in an aisle that’s full of instant noodles. Her eyes happen to land on a pack of instant carbonara ramen that she loves. “I used to be able to afford boxes of this thing at once,” she thinks as she holds one in the air. She hears the fridge’s door closing and guesses that the woman is done grabbing whatever. “Alright, let’s not second-guess this.”

With renewed certainty, she makes her way back to the fridge and, without thinking twice, snatches a bottle of soju. After hiding it inside her jacket, she proceeds to go to another aisle to get some sanitary products. Seulgi has half a dozen items hidden underneath her jacket now, and as tempting as it is to get more stuff, she doesn’t want to risk it even further. “That’s it for now.” Seulgi fast-walks towards the exit, and as luck would have it, a bunch of other people are also about to exit, so if the alarms were to trip, no one would be able to point at her directly.

True enough, the shop’s alarms start blaring as soon as she walks out of the door, but she stays calm so that people won’t be too suspicious. Seulgi immediately makes a left turn into an alley, and that is when she starts running, hugging herself tightly as she does to prevent the stolen items from falling out. “C’mon, Kang Seulgi; you can make it home safely.”

-

“Thank you so much, miss,” you say as you take a cup of hot chocolate and a triangle kimbap from the server. “Of course, sir—come back again soon!” With a smile, you step away from the register and make your way towards the exit.

You take a sip from the paper cup, and your body immediately feels the warmth from the hot chocolate that serves as a salvation on this cold night. “Oh my God, that’s so good.” You set your hot chocolate on the hood of your car so that you can shift your attention to this warm triangle on your other hand.

“Alright, let’s see if their spicy tuna is actually spicy,” you say to yourself as you free the kimbap of its packaging. The taste of the first bite makes you let out a sigh of satisfaction; not only is the tuna filling properly spicy, but it’s also very flavorful. “I’m about to fucking bust from this,” you think.

You pull out your phone and take a picture of the café’s exterior— “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You turn around to see who just hit you. “Are you okay, miss?” You can’t see her face, but she gives you some rapid nods. You’re a little surprised when you see some soaps falling out of her jacket. “Let me grab that for you, miss.”

You bend down and pick up the soaps, but her hands are too busy hugging herself when you’re trying to hand them back. “C-can you put them in my front pockets, please?” You finally hear the woman’s voice. “Sure.” You lift the tabs that are covering her pockets and fill each pocket with a bar of soap.

“Here—" You hear a short static from your earpiece, thus interrupting your speech. “Unit 318, 10-40. 10-20, 102 South Boulevard. 10-21, complainant reports of a theft from the shop they’re working at. 10-12, await further information.” You keep your eyes on the woman as you wait for the rest of the call. “10-35, suspect is a female, wearing a brown jacket and a cap of similar color.”

The call finishes right as the woman begins walking away from you, but you manage to halt her by gripping her shoulder. “Not so fast, miss—wait a moment, please?” You lift the left side of your coat to talk into the radio hidden underneath it. “This is unit 318—10-4, will respond directly to South Boulevard.”

You pull her closer towards your car, and that is when you see that she’s shaking. “Are you cold, miss?” She simply shakes her head to your question, still not making eye contact with you. You’re quite confident that the call was about this woman who’s standing right in front of you, but obviously you can’t just arrest people based on gut feelings alone, so, “Miss, I have some questions for you, so please get in the car.”

With little resistance, the woman enters your car from the back door that you’re opening for her and takes a seat in the back of your police car. Once she’s seated comfortably, you sit on the driver’s seat and lock the doors. “Miss,” your voice is stern as intended, “will you please tell me your business, or do I need to take you back to the station first?” “D-do I not have t-the right to remain silent?” You nod as you turn on your siren. “Well, the station it is.”

You haven’t driven too far from the spot of arrest when the woman cracks. “O-officer,” she calls to you, “I-I give up—look, I-I’ll confess.” You make a quick stop on the side of the road. “Yes?” From the rear-view mirror, you see that the woman lets go of her jacket, and you see the pile of items hidden underneath it.

“I-I took some stuff from a convenience store.” You try to stay focused despite her curves that have been exposed to your eyes. “Those are daily necessities, aren’t they, miss?” She nods. “I-I don’t have money, sir, s-so I took them.” “You’re aware that it’s a crime, aren’t you?” She nods again. “P-please, officer, I-I need these things.” You sigh as you think about—wait, what is there to think about? It’s obvious that she has committed a crime. “Look, let’s get to the station first—we can talk more there.” “No, no, no—officer, please!”

You’re surprised to see that the woman has taken off her cap and mask. “Huh, I’ve seen you somewhere,” you mindlessly comment, “wait, you’re Kang Seulgi—you’re a celebrity, aren’t you?” The woman promptly breaks eye contact. “I-I was, officer; m-my agency went bankrupt.” “So, you had to shoplift to get stuff?” She nods. “I-I’m sorry, I-I should’ve known better.” You palm your forehead, oddly stressed about the fact that a celebrity (formerly, as she claims) has committed theft for such simple items.

“Can you keep a secret, Miss Kang, because I’m about to put my career on the line for you.” You’re a little startled when you feel her wrapping her arms around you from the back seat. “Of course I can, officer; I swear on everything that I’ll keep this between you and me.” You chuckle, and it might have come across as suspicious. “You don’t even know what I’m about to do, do you?” “W-well, that’s true,” she takes a moment to think, “y-you’re not going to rape me, are you, officer?” You’ve never heard something that absurd in your life before, especially in your career in the police force. “No, I’m not—are you out of your mind?”

You turn your head to the side so that you can see her in your peripheral vision. “We’re going to go back to the store and return those items,” you start, “after that, we’re going to go to another store, and I’ll buy you whatever you need.” Seulgi wraps her arms more tightly around you. “Yes, officer—thank you so much!”

You start driving again when Seulgi lets go of the hug. “I’m so fucking cooked,” you think, “can’t believe I’d see a celebrity shoplift.” “Officer,” you hear her say, “c-can I ask what your name is?” You nod. “Kang Hyunwoo, Criminal Investigation,” you briefly introduce yourself, “my family knows me better as Aiden, though; I’m of foreign descent, you see.” “We have the same last name?” You nod again. “That’s how it’s intended for us.”

-

Before long, you arrive at the store Seulgi stole from. “Wait here, okay?” You don’t wait for an answer and hop out of the car with the stolen goods in your hands. “Excuse me, excuse me,” you say as you make your way towards the front of the line. “Hello, my name is Kang Hyunwoo from the Metropolitan Police,” you introduce yourself to the staff, “I’m not too familiar with your system, but I’m here to return the stolen items.” The staff thanks you for your help and tries giving you a shopping voucher, but you politely decline. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” you say.

 You quickly return to your car, and you’re glad to see that Seulgi didn’t drive away with your government-issued car. “You know, officer,” she says, “it was bold of you to leave a criminal alone in a running car—I could’ve driven away.” You chuckle. “I trust you more than I’d like to admit, Seulgi-yah.”

It is when you get in your seat that you realize that you might have been too friendly with her. “Anyway,” you clear your throat, “we still have some business at the station.” Seulgi’s face turns sour. “I-I thought you were going to buy me some stuff?” “Sorry, but that was a bait.” Seulgi gulps to swallow the anxiety that’s stuck in her throat. “C-can you just not let me go?” You shake your head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Daddy, please.”

You immediately turn your head towards her. “What did you just say?” “Please don’t turn me in, daddy,” she puts quite the emphasis on the name, thus making your jaw drop. “What the fuck are you talking about—why are you calling me that?” Seulgi takes off her jacket, thus exposing the tight-fit top that she’s wearing and showing you her perfect curves. “Give me a chance to change your mind, daddy—it’ll be worth your time, I swear.” “You’re not giving up your body to escape the law, are you?” Seulgi leans closer towards you, giving you a peek into her cleavage. “No, daddy; I’m giving up my body for you.”

“Goodness me,” you think. You’re oddly and seriously debating whether you’d turn a blind eye to crime in favor of sleeping with the criminal who happens to be a celebrity. “You’re dangerous, Miss Kang.” Seulgi shakes her head in protest. “Stop talking so formally, daddy; I’m yours for tonight, y’know.” You’re so unfocused that you press the ignition button again and shut off the running car. “Heh, I can tell when a guy is sold on an idea.” With red cheeks, you turn on the car again and immediately start driving. “We’re going to my place, baby.” “Oh, that’s exactly what I want, daddy—you’re going to take me to your place and fuck me until the sun rises again.”

-

“Wear your cap and jacket again, Seulgi-yah,” you’ve dropped the formality with her, “wouldn’t want to be seen running around with a cop, would you?” Seulgi looks at you blankly, making you confused. “Yes?” She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She puts on her identity concealment instruments as you’ve requested and follows you towards your apartment.

Seulgi quickly lets out a wow as she enters your apartment. “What a nice apartment.” You chuckle. “I’m sure a celebrity like you lives in a better place than this.” “I used to—not anymore, though,” she corrects you. “Fallen from grace, huh?” You say it with your back turned around, so you miss the way Seulgi’s face turns sour when she hears your words, only catching it when you look at her again.

You move to stand in front of her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that.” Seulgi shows you a pretty smile. “It’s okay; I got what you meant.” She tries to hug you but gets confused when she doesn’t feel the shape of your body, thus tapping your body to figure out what’s wrong. “There’s some equipment underneath my jacket, baby,” you let the name slip out. Seulgi chuckles. “Yeah, should’ve thought about that first.”

You step away from her so that you can take off your jacket, and when it’s off, Seulgi can see your handgun and a pair of handcuffs that you keep on each side of the shoulder holster. “Ah, so those were in the way,” she says, and you simply nod is response. “Let me sort this out first, and then I’ll come back to you, okay?”

You unload your firearm and put it in the safe along with the magazine after making sure there is no bullet in the chamber. After that, you hang your jacket and holster on the wall hooks behind the bedroom door.

“Alright, so, what now?” You invite Seulgi to sit on the sofa. “You’re here right now because you want to escape the law, and to do that, you want to offer your body to me,” you don’t bother sugarcoating your words. “You don’t have to be so crass, though,” she says in a sad tone. You slowly reach for her knee, placing your hand on it. “I’m sorry; I’ve never been good with words.”

Your heart jumps a little when Seulgi places her hand on yours. “I wish we could talk—y’know, about ourselves.” “I mean, we can,” you say, “I’m off-duty right now, so at the moment, this is your safe space, and you’re safe with me.” She lets out a chuckle. “Didn’t you try to arrest me just minutes ago?” You also let out a chuckle. “Well, that was Officer Kang Hyunwoo from the Metropolitan Police—at this moment, I’m just 32-year-old Kang Hyunwoo.” “Oh, you’re 32? My group’s leader is 33,” she says. You laugh. “I know—I mean, your group was famous.”

Joyfulness disappears from Seulgi’s face, and in turn, it disappears from yours as well. “Unnie would be so disappointed if she heard about this.”  “I wish you hadn’t tried all that, and I’m not saying this as a law enforcer.” “What was I supposed to do, though? Should have I just asked someone to buy stuff for me?” “Honestly, I would’ve bought those things for you.”

Your heartrate jumps again when Seulgi puts her head on your shoulder. “Will you date me?” Her question doesn’t help you calm down. “S-sorry?” “I promise I’ll be a good girl for you, oppa,” she pulls out a new endearment for you. You fight the hesitation in your head and wrap an arm around her shoulder. “I have no question that you’re a good girl, but don’t you think you deserve someone better?" “Are you not a good person, oppa?” “I think I’m alright—I’m not perfect, you know.” “We can’t chase perfection in this world, oppa, especially when it comes to falling in love.”

It doesn’t take too much to make up your mind. “So, girlfriend, hey?” Seulgi grins. “I mean, I could be yours if you’d let your guard down and let me enter your heart.” You take a few deep breaths as you get ready to say this sentence that your brain has come up with, and with every second passing, you can feel conviction filling your head rather rapidly.

“I love you.”

You’ve never been so nervous to say such a short sentence before.

“Say it again?”

“I love you, baby—I love you with all my heart.”

Seulgi lifts her head off your shoulder and looks at you in the eyes. “I love you too, oppa, and thank you for the sweet words.”

You hesitantly reach for her chin, hoping that she’ll let you kiss her. “I know what you want, oppa.” She slaps your hand away and comes in quickly for a kiss, and right now, all you can think about is how soft her lips are.

Seulgi finds your hand without looking and guides it towards her tits. “Touch me here,” she softly whispers, and you’re eager to do just that. The cream top she’s wearing is so soft to the touch, and combine that with her perfect-sized tits, it feels like you’re dreaming—never in your life have you ever thought about being able to do this with someone like her.

Having had enough of your lips, Seulgi breaks the tangle. “Oppa,” she calls to you, “promise me this isn’t a one-night thing.” You shake your head, but gesture alone isn’t enough for Seulgi as she demands a verbal answer. “No, baby, it’s not a one-night stand; I want to be with you until you’re sick of me.” She laughs. “I won’t get sick of you ever, oppa, so we’ll stay together forever.” You peck her on the lips. “I like the sound of that, baby.”

Seulgi moves to sit on your lap; her crotch is grinding right against yours but blocked by the pants that each of you are wearing. “You know,” she says, “you’re so fucking hot—so fucking manly.” You laugh internally, because what does she mean you’re “manly.” “You’re so fucking hot too, baby.” “Yeah, oppa?” You’re getting hard as Seulgi grinds her crotch against yours. “Shit, haven’t you looked at yourself in the mirror?” She smirks, satisfied with your answer. “I wonder how you’ll react when I’m naked, oppa.” “Then let’s find out, baby,” you whisper right into her ear.

As horny as you are, you don’t forget to ask for consent if you can take her to the bedroom, and only after she says yes that you lift her by her thighs and make your way there. “Do you sleep with girls often, oppa?” You shake your head. “I haven’t gotten in a relationship in years, actually.” “You must have a huge load for me, huh?” “You know it, baby.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed with Seulgi on your lap. “Hey, baby,” your tone is relaxed and soft, “look, before we start—” She interrupts you by placing a finger on your lips. “I consent, I want to be with you, and I love you.” You chuckle. “Well, that will do the trick.”

Seulgi lets her jacket fall onto the floor, and only now that you can see her curves properly. “My fucking God,” you exclaim, “fuck, I wish I had the words for this.” “I’m not even naked yet.” “Yeah, well, what are you waiting for?” She slaps your chest lightly. “I’m waiting for you to shut up.”

Your jaw drops when Seulgi takes off her top; her tummy looks so firm, her tits that are covered in black tight bra look so soft and full, and her neck looks like the perfect spot for hickeys. “God damn,” you wipe the drool off your lips, “aren’t you God’s most perfect creation.” She slaps you in the chest again. “Normally, I wouldn’t tolerate someone talking about me like that, but you’re my exception tonight.” Your eyes that have been roaming wildly all over her body shift to meet hers. “Just tonight? I thought we wanted to keep seeing each other?” “Well, actually,” she puts up a finger, “whether we can see each other again will depend on your, erm, performance.”

You have Seulgi sit on the bed so that you can undress. “My performance, huh?” You can see a mix of excitement and nervousness in her face. “I’ll show you.” You quickly get rid of your clothes, thus allowing Seulgi to have a look at the excellent physique you’ve maintained for God-knows-how-long. “Goodness me,” she bites her bottom lip sexily, “so that’s what you’ve been hiding from me.”

Seulgi stands closely in front of you and places her hands on your shoulders. “May I?” You express your consent with a nod, and that is when she begins running her hands all over your torso. “Do these girls know that you’re this sexy, because they’re missing out big time.” You chuckle. “I’m the sole reason that I’m not in a relationship—those women out there have nothing to do with it.” “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

Seulgi’s eyes land on your cock. “Oh, speaking of big,” she reaches for the half-erect, half-limp shaft that’s dangling between your legs. “Say, how many girls have you torn in half with this, oppa, hm?” You laugh as your ego inflates. “You’d be the second.” It’s Seulgi’s turn to laugh. “You’re underestimating me if you think that I won’t be able to take you.”

Your heart beats faster when Seulgi kneels in front of you while her hands are still wrapped around your cock. “Oh, this will be a tight fit,” she comments. Before taking you in her mouth, she stretches her mouth first, making these funny expressions as she does. She catches you grinning and hits you on the thigh. “Don’t.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I know that face—that’s the I-can’t-wait-to-fuck-this-girl face.” You shrug. “I mean, can you blame me?”

Seulgi doesn’t answer your question with words and instead parts her mouth to let your cock in, and the first contact makes your knees weak. “Oh, God, baby,” you’re running out of breath already. You gasp sharply when more of your shaft enters her mouth, and it’s getting really difficult to stay upright. You feel her soft hands on your thighs as she fights her gag reflex to get as much of your length in her mouth as she can.

The gurgling sound that enters your ears when Seulgi removes you from her mouth is nasty but arousing. “D-did you like that, daddy?” You nod feebly. “You want to fuck my face, or no?” You take a few deep breaths to collect yourself. “No, baby; I don’t want to do it rough on our first date.” Seulgi shows you this gorgeous combination of lip and eye smile that you’re seeing for the first time tonight. “That’s sweet of you.”

You pull her onto her feet and invite her to lie in bed with you. “Can I ask how many guys have been rough with you?” “One,” she says. “I hope it wasn’t on your first date.” She smiles a little. “It was, but not on the first round.” You stay silent as your eyes are locked with hers. “What’s wrong, oppa?” The smile on your face is a gentle one. “I just can’t see myself going hard on you, baby; I feel like you deserve soft sex all the time.”

Seulgi rubs your face gently. “That’s sweet, but you have nothing to worry about; I can take whatever you send my way.” “Vanilla is what I’m sending your way tonight, baby.” Seulgi chuckles, and the way it hits your face makes you shiver. “You’re going to make me cry if you keep talking like that.” You place a hand on her cheek and rub it with your thumb. “I swear on everything I have, baby, that you’ll be crying for all the right reasons with me.”

“I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

With a warm heart, you pull her into a kiss, and you wholeheartedly hope that Seulgi can feel the tender love you have for her.

“Take me, love; make me yours,” she whispers softly. You roll over so that you’re on top of her. “Your pants are in the way,” you crack a little joke, and you’re successful in making her laugh. “Do something about it, please—pretty please?” “Oh, you’re pretty, alright.”

You move backwards a bit until her crotch is right in front of your face. “May I?” “Yes, you may.” You unlatch the metal button of her pants and undo the zipper. You then continue to drag her pants down her legs until they’re properly off. Seulgi also cooperates by taking off her panties—that has a wet spot in the center—herself.

You give her pussy a little peck (thus earning a cute little moan) before returning to your previous position on top of her. “Show me how much you love me.” You peck her on the lips once. “Gladly, baby.”

With your cock in one hand, you guide yourself to enter her warm pussy, and Seulgi immediately lets out a long moan because of the first contact. “You make me feel like this is my first time, oppa.” “With me, this is your first time, and I’ll be your last because you’re not leaving me ever.” “Are you that sure about us?” “Yes, baby, so God help me.”

You see that Seulgi’s dams are threatening to burst, so before it does, you distract her by pushing your cock deep into her. “I’ll be the best girlfriend for you, oppa—no one else deserves me like you do.” You silence her with a soft shush. “Let’s focus on us right now, baby.”

Seulgi holds you tightly, locking you in place close to her but still gives you enough space to keep moving your hips. She wants to express how safe and loved she feels in your arms, but her lips are busy moaning. “I know you can’t hear me, but I love you,” her heart says. “I know you can’t hear me, but I want to be with you for a long, long time.” A particularly deep thrust disrupts her train of thoughts, making her hide her face in the crook of your neck. “I love you, Kang Hyunwoo—I love you so much.”

At one point in her life, Seulgi heard that the heart controls the mind, and the mind controls the body. Right now, all her heart wants is to show you just how much she appreciates you—how much she appreciates this new relationship that she’s building with you. Without too much convincing, her mind agrees with the idea and, in turn, signals to her body that she’s highly enjoying this hot sensuality you’re offering her.

“L-love,” she calls to you, “I-I won’t last long.” “That’s fine, baby.” Your deep voice in which your reply is said sends goosebumps all over her body. “I don’t want you to last too long anyway,” she hears you say. “Y-you don’t?” Seulgi feels a sudden peck on her lips. “You finishing early would mean that you could feel my love, and that’s what I’m aiming for right now.”

Seulgi’s moans become more frequent as she inches closer to the checkered line. “Love me, oppa—love me, love me,” she chants into your ears. She gets ecstatic when the pace of your thrusts grows faster. “Yes, just like that, oppa.”

“Can you feel that?”

"Damn right I can.”

“Then give it to me, oppa; I deserve it.”

“Oh, yes, you do.”

Seulgi is the first one to crack, announcing her orgasm with a scream from the top of her lungs. “Oh, what an amazing girl,” you praise her while petting her head gently. “You’re such an amazing girl, aren’t you, baby?” She keeps squirming around in your arms as she rides the high of orgasm, moaning freely as she does.

You keep whispering sweet words as you wait for her to calm down, and finally, after what felt like forever, she’s now able to speak coherently again. “I-I love you,” she’s out of breath now, “I-I want no one else but you.” You spray kisses all over her sweaty face. “I love you more, baby.” Seulgi giggles a little. “Y-you’ll give me your load if you really love me.” “One second, baby; let’s calm down first.”

Soon, Seulgi signals that she’s ready to help you get to the finish line and asks that you resume your thrusts. “Don’t forget to cum inside, love.” Initially, you hesitate, but she repeats the line, and it’s clear that you have no other option. “As you wish, baby.”

Apparently, you were only a few pumps away from orgasm, thus busting deep into her after a handful of them. “Oh, fuck, that’s so warm.” You hit her cheek very, very gently. “No profanity during vanilla, please.” “S-sorry, b-but you’re so warm in me, love.” You kiss her fleetingly. “That’s just how much I love you.”

-

“The court hereby orders the defendant to pay 200.000 in fine and do 10 hours of community service.” The judge slams her hammer on the round pad repeatedly, thus officially passing the sentence for Seulgi’s crime that thankfully has been deemed as minor after considering the severity of it and her previously clean record. “The officer may escort the defendant out of the courtroom.”

You make your way towards your girlfriend as she stands up and place a hand on her cuffs. “Time to go, miss,” you whisper. Seulgi simply nods and starts walking to wherever you’re taking her.

You see that there’s an empty room on the first floor of the courthouse, so you open the door and enter with Seulgi. You take your hat off and put it on the table while she takes a seat on one of the available chairs. “Love, I can’t pay that,” you can already hear the anxiety and fear in her voice, “shit, had I had money, I wouldn’t have stolen.”

There’s no CCTV in this room, but there are see-through glass panes on the wall to your right, so you can’t touch her no matter how much you want to.

“I have money, baby.” You’re sure that Seulgi understands what you’re talking about.

“B-but I can’t do that.”

“You either take my money or go to jail for failing to pay—the choice is yours.”

It doesn’t take long for Seulgi to make up her mind.

“Erm, I-I’ll take your money; I don’t think I have other options.”

Now that the two of you have come to an agreement, you ask Seulgi to stand up again so that you can take her to the bank to pay her fine. You maintain character from the moment you exit the little meeting room until you’re hidden in the privacy of the police Sonata you’re assigned to.

“So, here’s the game plan, baby,” you start, “I will give you this card, and you’ll withdraw 200.000 and use it to pay the fine.” You don’t see her reaching out a hand, and that is when you remember that her hands are still cuffed behind her back. “Oh, I forgot about that—I’ll let you go when we get to the bank, okay?” Seulgi laughs. “I was starting to think that you had a bondage kink.” You look away to hide your smirk. “Maybe we’ll find out soon.”

-

After a short drive, you arrive at the bank with Seulgi.

You look at her through the rear-view mirror; with her wrists restrained behind her back, you have unrestricted view of her plump tits that you love so much. “I know you’re looking at my tits, you pervert,” she calls you out and sticks out her tongue in playful mockery. “You know I can’t keep my hands off the cookie jar.”

You get out of the car and open Seulgi’s door—wait, why does she look weak?

“You alright?”

She shakes her head, and you can’t help but scratch your head in confusion.

“I need some vitamin D, and I’m not talking about the substance.”

“Then let’s go in there, pay this God damn fine, and go home, hm?”

“I can’t,” she shifts a little to show you her bound wrists, “daddy is tying me down.”

You pinch her on the thigh.

“Let’s not play around too much right now, Miss Kang.”

After freeing Seulgi from the cuffs, you hand her your card and head inside, and you almost forgot that you can’t be seen holding hands with her while you're in uniform.

“Good afternoon,” Seulgi greets the staff member, “my name is Kang Seulgi, and I’m here to pay a fine.” The staff asks Seulgi about some things to confirm her identity and the sum that needs to be paid, and after everything is verified, Seulgi hands your card to the staff so that the payment can be processed. After a brief moment, “The payment has been verified, and this is your receipt.” From where you’re standing, you notice the way Seulgi’s body relaxes as she takes the receipt and card from the staff. “Thank you.”

Seulgi sighs deeply in relief and offers her wrists to be cuffed again, but at this point, it’s no longer necessary—in fact, it hasn’t been necessary since you left the courthouse, but she doesn’t know that. “You’re free to go, Miss Kang,” you say, back in character. “Oh, really? Is that it?” You nod. “Aside from the community service, you are now a free woman.”

Seulgi asks you to follow her outside, and it appears that she wants to get back in the car for some privacy.

“Love,” she calls to you from the back seat, “thank you for everything, seriously.” You smile gently. “Of course, baby; now promise me that you won’t steal again, okay? Come to me whenever you need anything, and I mean anything.”

Your heart is promptly filled with warmth when she hugs you from behind. “Never thought I’d date a cop, but here I am.” You chuckle. “I bet you thought that you’d end up with some rich guy.” “No,” she denies, “those guys are fake; they probably just want my money or my body.” “I mean, you do have a body that guys would kill just to have a chance to lay with you.” “Yeah, well, they’re not getting me ever—I’m yours now, remember?”

-

Usually, you have nothing to be excited about or look forward to when you get home after a shift, but now that you have Seulgi living with you full time, you’re always excited to go home, and it is no different today.

The way your heart is beating with excitement has your finger trembling as you enter the passcode to your apartment, and when you open the door, you’re instantly met with your girlfriend who has the beautiful grin and eye smile that you adore so much.

“Welcome home, love!” Seulgi greets you with open arms, and you waste little time to fill the space between them. “How was your day?” You let out a deep sigh to show how tired you are. “It was pretty exhausting, actually; I had to train shooting and worked out after that.” Seulgi turns her head to the side and gestures at the kitchen. “I may have some food for you.”

Seulgi drags you towards the dining table, thus showing you the table that has two bowls of tteokbokki on it. Based on how it’s presented, you estimate that she must’ve cooked this herself. “Oh my, thanks a lot, baby.” She gets on her tippy toes to peck you on the forehead. “Thank you for coming home—your timing was perfect, by the way.” “I’ve heard that before in my life.”

Seulgi pulls back a chair for you to sit on. “Let’s eat quickly, love, and then we’ll talk.” Your heart rate spikes for a moment. “Am I in trouble?” She shrugs. “I don’t know—are you?” “I don’t think so, but maybe I’ve missed something.”

You stare blankly at the bowl in front of you as you try to figure out if you’ve done anything wrong. Currently, there are two things in your head that might be the reason why she’s unhappy: you forgot to buy some eggs and instant noodles that she had asked for yesterday, and on the following morning, you rejected her offer to do a quick one.

Seulgi saves you from drowning in your own thoughts by placing her hands on yours. “Hey, now,” her voice is so soft, “I was just playing, love; you’re not actually in trouble. “I’ll buy you those eggs after this,” you blurt, and the suddenness of it makes your girlfriend burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t worry about them.”

She picks up a piece of tteokbokki with her chopsticks and invites you to do the same, so you do just that. There’s a bit of unease in the back of your mind that leads you to scratching your nape. “Thank you,” are the first words that leave your lips, and those are enough to make Seulgi smile. “You’re welcome, love,” she replies.

Like a cat, you shake your head rather violently to get rid of unnecessary thoughts in your head, and with renewed focus, you’re ready to take a bite of tteokbokki that you already know will blow your socks off. “Oh, I really like this, baby; this is really good,” you praise the fruit of her work. Seulgi blushes a little. “You always say that to everything I cook for you.” “You know how easy it is to please me—give me anything edible and I’ll say it’s good.” “But not eggplant.” “Anything but eggplant, yes.”

-

Seulgi says she wants to get a shower before going to bed, so after washing dishes with you, she makes her way towards the bathroom. “Join me,” she says as she jogs towards her destination. “Gladly.” You take the chance to undress yourself and put your equipment away while she’s off doing her business in the bathroom.

The door to the bathroom isn’t shut all the way, so you simply push it open, and that is when you see Seulgi standing under the shower, water flowing freely on her curves from top to bottom. After stopping the flow of water, she makes a “come here” gesture at you, and you waste little time to get close to her. “My, aren’t you God’s most perfect creation,” she recites your words from the first meeting. “Is it safe to say that we’re going to completely spend our batteries tonight and wake up late tomorrow?” Seulgi laughs. “You rejected me yesterday, didn’t you, love?” You answer in the form of a nod. “So, this is your chance to make things right with me, and you may start now.”

You take a few steps forward, thus making Seulgi step backwards until she’s pressed against the wall. “Vanilla, baby?” “No, daddy.” The name makes it obvious what she wants from you. “Safe word?” “Teddy.” You reject her choice because it sounds too similar to the kinky name. “Cookie, then.”

After agreeing on the choice of safe word, you quickly lean in for a kiss to kick things off, and as usual, Seulgi places her hands on your shoulders. “Tell me, daddy—what’s in that head of yours?” It’s a habit between the two of you to share each other’s plans before the actual sex to make sure you and her are on the same page. “Tell me your ideas first, baby.” Seulgi puts a finger on her chin. “Hmm, let’s see,” you can see the gears in her head spinning, “what about locking my wrists together, daddy?” You’re immediately sold on the idea. “Let’s do it, then.”

Seulgi gets down on her knees. “First, feed me your cock, daddy.” You hold your cock in one hand. “Choo-choo, the meat train is coming through.” Seulgi, who initially had her mouth open to take your cock, bursts out laughing. “Meat train? Really?” You pout a little. “Just play along, please.” “You’re so funny sometimes, daddy.”

“Only some—oh, God, fuck.”

You let out a profanity when Seulgi suddenly puts your cock in her mouth. “Oh, God, that never gets old.” You try your hardest to breathe at a normal pace as she begins moving her head along your length, and this is where you start regretting your decision to reject her offer to have sex yesterday. “Are you trying to make me pay for saying no, baby?” You grit your teeth in pain when she bites your cock slightly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You notice that she’s starting to pick up the pace, so you put a hand on the back of her head to prevent her from hitting the wall. “Relax, baby; you’re going to make me bust if you don’t slow down.” She doesn’t listen to you and keeps the fast pace—at least that’s the case until the tip of your cock hits an odd spot in her throat, thus making her gag. As soon as you pull out of her mouth, Seulgi begins coughing violently. “You’re okay, baby,” you say repeatedly while petting her head softly.

“100 days together and I still can’t take you deep,” she says, seemingly disappointed in herself. “That’s okay; I’m not mad or anything like that,” you assure her, but it appears that she doesn’t want to hear it. “That doesn’t mean that I get to slack off,” she argues. You deny her attempt at taking you in her mouth for the second time by gripping her hair. “No, no, no, let’s have a timeout first.”

You leave Seulgi seated on the bathroom floor to get a towel to dry her body with. “You want to move, don’t you, daddy?” You nod. “You’re my girlfriend, so let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” Seulgi rarely blushes, but this is one of those times where she feels like she can’t help it. “Am I lucky to have you, daddy, or are you lucky to have me?” The question sounds like a test, but you still answer properly from the bottom of your heart. “From my perspective, it’s me that’s so lucky to have you. If you think that you’re lucky to have me, then that’s a huge honor for me.”

You sit in the center of the bed with Seulgi still in your arms and are ready to have sex, but it changes when she begins tearing up. “Are you okay, baby?” She fans her face with her hands to get herself together. “Oh, don’t worry; these are tears of joy.” You’re glad that your nails aren’t long because you’re now able to wipe her tears without worrying about scratching her. “I promised you that you’ll be crying for the right reasons, didn’t I, baby?”

“I-I don’t know if I can continue, daddy—I’m sorry,” she’s still unable to stop crying. You chuckle. “Tell me how I’m supposed to be rough with a softie like you, baby, hm?” “Well, y-you’re supposed to be mean and dominant.” “I can’t be mean to you, can I, my love?” The way you say the last two words must’ve triggered something in her heart, because her cries grow louder than before. “Oh, I’m so sorry—look, I’ll get you some ice cream, okay?”

You rush to the kitchen quickly to get a cup of strawberry ice cream for her, and when you return to the bedroom, Seulgi is curled up in the middle of the bed. “Seulgi-yah, my love,” you tap her thigh to get her attention, “do you want some?” “Y-yes.” Once she’s seated, you move to sit behind her and have her lean against your body. “Look at this, baby,” you open the lid for her, “it looks so tasty, don’t you think?” “A-and soft like me,” she adds.

You take a spoonful of ice cream and guide it to her waiting mouth, repeating it a few more times until Seulgi says stop. “You know,” she says, “I remember overhearing a guy talk about how he fantasized about fucking me hard like a cheap slut.” Your brain starts getting filled with anger, because what the fuck kind of fantasy is that. “Really?” She nods. “H-he said he’d tie me down and fuck my ass.” “I don’t mean to prod too much, but have you taken a penis in your ass?” Seulgi shakes her head. “I’m naughty but not that naughty.”

You feed her another spoonful of ice cream as you think about her words. “Can I ask who this guy was and how you overheard him?” “H-he was, erm, a fellow trainee, a-and I happened to be walking past a room he was in when he said it out loud.” You’re very baffled; if he was a fellow trainee, that means that he was around Seulgi’s age, and for someone that young to have that sort of fantasy sounds nasty. “He didn’t debut, did he, because there are many male celebrities from your old label.” Seulgi shakes her head again. “He didn’t make the final debut lineup.” Hearing her answer makes you let out the biggest sigh of relief in your recent memory.

You have a few sentences in your head that you hope will convince Seulgi that you’re not that type of person, but after the first sentence leaves your lips, she won’t let you continue. “I can tell from day one what type of person you are behind your façade.” You scratch your head in confusion. “Am I that easy to read?” She chuckles. “I’ll say that your book was a bit open.”

The ice cream has run out, but thankfully, Seulgi is no longer crying. You put the small wooden spoon in the empty cup and put them on the bedside table. “I hope I helped you feel better,” you say. “I mean, I wasn’t sad necessarily, but you did help a lot.” She moves to sit on your lap after freeing herself from your arms.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Seulgi grins, satisfied with your quick answer. “Are you down to make some promises?” “Let’s do it.”

Seulgi asks you to go first, so you say the first thing that comes up in your head. “Promise me that you won’t leave me when you’ve got back on your feet.” “Excuse me?” You sigh deeply. “You met me when you were in a rough spot, and I sincerely hope that you won’t leave me when… you know, you’re in a better situation—maybe when you get a job or something like that.” She holds your face with her soft hands. “No, I will never do you like that—I’m here right now because of you, love.” “So, you promise?” She nods rapidly to show seriousness, and seeing it warms your heart. “Thank you, baby.”

Seulgi looks away momentarily. “I had something in my head, but you threw me off.” You stay silent to see if she manages to find something for you. “Okay, how about this,” she says, “promise me that you’ll propose to me and make me yours.” Your eyebrows rise involuntarily. “Propose to you? Are you that sure—” “Yes,” she interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. “You’re law enforcement, so what better way is there for us other than to formalize our relationship in the eyes of the law?” The phrasing makes you want to laugh, but your brain manages to stifle you from actually laughing, citing inappropriate timing. With that, your response is, “We’ll work on it, love.”

Seulgi quickly shifts to get on her knees in front of you. “Fuck everyone else; I’m the only one for you, and you’re the only one for me.” You rub her cheek gently. “What are you talking about, love?” Instead of answering your question, she repeats her line. “Love, seriously, what are you talking about?” “My ex,” her answer is a short one. “Why are you thinking about him?” She looks at you dead in the eyes, and you swear there is smoke coming out of her ears. “I’m not—if anything, I wish I could erase him from my memory.”

You don’t know how to react to that aside from saying that he’s completely irrelevant in your and Seulgi’s lives. “Please don’t bring him up again,” you say sternly. “Yes, daddy.”  She must be in the same head space as before when the two of you were in the bathroom. “Oh, you’re saying it again, huh?” She palms your limp cock. “You distracted me with that ice cream, but now I’m ready.” You run a thumb on her cheek. “You were literally in tears and said you couldn’t continue—how could I have ignored that?” “Yeah, well, that’s now in the past,” she deflects, “let’s focus on the here and now, daddy.”

Seulgi crawls backwards until your cock is right in front of her eyes. “Oh, you’re so hard already.” “How can I not when my beautiful wife is naked in front of me like this?” She grins. “I’m your wife?” “Yes, you are—also, it’s not like there’s anyone else in this room, is it?” “There’s no one else in this room aside from the two of us, and there’s no one else in my life aside from you, daddy.”

Without breaking eye contact, Seulgi eases your cock into her mouth, wasting little time to start things off. She then grabs your hand and places it on the back of her head. “Ah, of course, how could I forget?” You start petting her head gently. “You like this, don’t you, baby?”

You make sure the praises keep flowing out of your lips without obstruction as your soon-to-be wife moves her head back and forth along your shaft. “God, you’re amazing at this, baby.” Enticed by your words and the pets on the back of her head, Seulgi picks up the pace, thus filling the bedroom with slurps and other sounds that escape her mouth that only add to your arousal. “I’m starting to think that you like my dick more than that ice cream,” you quip.

Before long, Seulgi removes you from her mouth to come up for air. “You know, I’m curious what it’d be like if I could take your whole dick in my mouth.” You take a rough measurement of your cock with your palm and estimate how far your cock would go. “The tip would be in your throat, baby.” She licks her lips, curious about how that would feel like. “Can I try?” You shake your head. “I don’t want to suffocate you with my penis,” you reason.

You invite Seulgi to sit on your lap after closing your thighs, but instead of simply straddling them like you hoped, she puts your cock in her pussy first before actually sitting on your lap, thus forcing the two of you to moan in reflex. “You like that, daddy?” “How can I not when you’re this tight?” Seulgi rewards your good answer with a fleeting kiss. “At what age do you think we’ll stop having sex, daddy?” You shrug. “I don’t know—60, maybe?” “I doubt it; with your physique, you’d be able to fuck me until we’re 80.”

You want to say something else, but your train of thoughts got derailed when Seulgi starts moving her hips. “I-I’ll stay tight for you, daddy, even if we have a lot of children.” “I don’t doubt it,” you’re getting breathy.

Without command, Seulgi picks up the pace to the maximum that she can do, her sexy moans flying out her lips without rest. It is when you take her tits in your hands that her moans get louder. “S-suck them, p-please.” You do as she asks and put one breast in your mouth while stimulating the other with your hand. “Yes, like that, daddy—suck my tits like our future children would.”

It's not fair for you to only stimulate one breast, so you let go of the first one to make room for the other. You keep sucking until you notice that Seulgi slows down. In retaliation, you lightly bite and pinch her nipples. “Oh, God, don’t do that,” she jolts, “l-look, I-I’ll start again.”

Seulgi eventually pushes you away from her plump breasts and falls backwards onto the bed. “I-I’m tired—y-you’ll need to fuck me this time,” she says between heavy pants. You don’t bother waiting for her to calm down, opting to start again right away to ensure maximum stimulation.

Initially, you’re holding Seulgi by her legs as you’re thrusting into her, but as time goes on, you’re starting to fold her legs over her body. “Fuck me, daddy—fuck me nice and fast,” she eggs you on. You fasten your grip on her ankles as you prepare to give her your absolute everything, and not too long after you’ve started, Seulgi is reduced to moans and screams as her eyes are rolling backwards.

All you can think about right now is how wet and tight— “D-daddy,” she snaps you out of your horny trance, “I, I—c-cum, daddy.” You quickly pull out of her pussy and aggressively rub her clit, thus making her scream. “D-daddy,” her orgasm is getting so close, “I-I’m—your fingers, daddy, fuck!” “Cum, baby; cum for daddy,” you urge her.

With an ear-piercing scream, Seulgi explodes, soaking the bed with her juice. Once she’s done squirting, you drag her around and position her until her legs are dangling off the edge of the bed. “You want to be tied?” Seulgi nods slightly. “Then tied you will be.” You grab a pair of handcuffs from your equipment holster and lock her wrists together with them. “Are you ready to go again, though?” She nods again. “Fuck me, papi.” Hearing the new name makes you chuckle. “One day, we’ll sit down and talk about our kinks, okay?”

Seulgi moans when your shaft enters her again and screams when your palm lands on her butt. “You’re fucking naughty, aren’t you?” “Y-yes, officer.” You spank her once more. “That’s inspector to you, Miss Kang—or papi, like you said yourself.”

You fix your hands on her waist as you fuck her tirelessly from behind, her butt cheeks bouncing around as your hips crash into them. You notice that her small, puckered ring keeps peaking at you every now and then, and an idea enters your mind: what if you put a finger in there?

You coat your thumb with spit to prepare it for a brave adventure to a brand-new world that is her asshole. Seulgi jolts when she feels your thumb in the entrance of her forbidden hole. “D-daddy, gently, please,” she begs, but instead of getting an assurance that you’ll indeed be gentle, she gets a spank on the butt instead. “You’re mine, slut.” You feel a hint of guilt for calling her with such a pejorative name, but you’re half certain that she’ll understand considering the current situation.

Seulgi grits her teeth as her asshole stretches to accommodate your thumb. “How are we feeling?” “G-good—oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” She begins squirming around when she feels your thumb moving in and out of her asshole. You don’t give her a chance to breathe as you opt to start fucking her again with your thumb still stuck in her ass.

Amidst her endless moans, a thought enters Seulgi’s mind: should she let you fuck her ass?

“Maybe I should.”

“Fuck, it’ll hurt so bad, though.”

“So what? He’ll be the first and last.”

“But he’ll stretch me like crazy.”

“Let him claim you.”

Her conversation with herself ends when she feels that your thumb is no longer lodged in her ass. She gathers her strength to turn her head towards you to look at you. “D-daddy,” her voice is barely heard.

“Yes, baby?” You couldn’t hear what she just said, so you lean forwards and ask her to say it again. “F-fuck my ass, daddy.”

Your eyes widen in shock; did she just ask to be fucked in the ass?

“You’re a virgin there, though, no?” Your answer is some feeble nods. “I-I couldn’t bleed for you, s-so claim my ass a-and make me yours.”

You pull out of her pussy so that you can address this further. “Baby, you know I have no problem with not being your first.” “J-just do it, daddy—l-let me show you exactly h-how much I love you.” “Are you sure?” “Y-yes,” she answers briefly. You ask once more and get the same answer, so you know that her mind is made up. “Safe word?” “C-cookie,” it appears that she hasn’t forgotten it. “Alright, let’s do it, then.”

It is when you’re back in your previous position that you realize you need something to make it hurt less for Seulgi. An idea pops in your head: “Her pussy will be able to coat me,” you think. You plunge into her pussy again and pump a few times until your cock is shiny because of her juice. For extra measure, you also coat your cock with a lot of spit.

“I’m ready, baby—are you?” She nods. “Claim me,” she repeats. “Stop saying it like that,” you protest. “J-just give it to me, please.”

Seulgi gasps when the tip of your cock touches her puckered ring. “Gently, love—I’m begging you,” she begs, changing the callout name for good measure. She inhales sharply when the tip of your cock stretches her virgin ass. “Please be gentle,” her voice starts to crack, and it’s understandable, too; this is her first time after all.

You push forwards into her ass every odd second to not hurt her even more. Seulgi turns her head towards you, thus showing you the pooling tears in her eyes. “P-please tell me I’m doing well,” she says. “You are, baby; you’re doing so well right now,” you assure her, your hips still. It hurts your heart seeing your beloved woman be in tears like that, but it was her idea to give her ass to you, her beloved man, with whom she wants to have a life with.

“Love, take me.”

 Using her urge as fuel, you begin moving your hips back and forth, thus properly and officially taking her anal virginity.

“Does it hurt so bad still?” “Y-yes, b-but it’s fine—t-this is what I want,” Seulgi deflects. You take a few deep breaths to focus your mind on the task. “Alright, I’ll try moving now, okay?”

You maintain this relaxed pace as Seulgi’s muscles adapt to your intrusion, and slowly but surely, moans begin streaming out of her lips. “That’s better, love.” You place your hands on her butt cheeks to caress them. “You’re incredibly tight, baby.” “T-that’s—AH!” A particular thrust makes Seulgi scream. “T-that’s your proof that I-I’m a virgin there.” “I never asked for proof, but thank you, my love.”

Your orgasm approaches at an alarming rate with every thrust of your hips. On one hand, you’re happy, because it means that Seulgi won’t have to suffer for too long. On the other, you’re worried that she’ll be disappointed by your performance tonight. There is one way to make sure, and that is to simply ask. “Love, can I cum?” She nods. “S-sooner than later, please, daddy.” “Brace yourself, baby—feel free to tap out, though.”

After delivering a warning, you pick up the speed, fucking her ass fast like it was her pussy, and Seulgi immediately sinks her face into the bed to muffle her voice. You instinctively spank her, thus forcing another scream from her, but regret it right away. “Fuck, sorry, baby; force of habit,” you say, apologetic.

You can feel the way your cock is throbbing in her ass—orgasm must be very close. “Baby, I’m—” “Do it, daddy—f-fill my ass.” “Alright, okay.”

You leave the entirety of your cock lodged in her ass as you blow semen deep into it, thus officially marking the end of this painful first-time. After you’re done filling her, you retreat out of her ass, and after blinking a few times, her asshole properly closes, locking your cum inside.

You grab the cuffs’ key so that you can unlock them, and after she’s free, you flip Seulgi onto her back and pull her into an embrace. “It hurt, didn’t it, love?” “Y-yes, but I’m yours now.” You put on a gentle smile for her. “Thank you so much, love—I love you.”

-

You’re back in bed after a long shower with Seulgi, and what’s left for you to do is to take care of her, which consists of several non-skippable steps.

First, you hold her tightly.

Second, you say, “Love, thank you so much, seriously,” to express gratitude and appreciation.

Third, you come in for a kiss—one that is passionate to support your words.

“Don’t leave me now, love.” “How can I leave you when I’m so in love with you?” Seulgi lets out a tiny chuckle. “Are you in love with me or my body?” The question offends you a touch. “Surely you don’t think that low of me.”

Seulgi shuffles around rather wildly. “Are you okay?” She huffs in frustration. “You’re not close enough.” You laugh. “Our skin is literally touching, baby.” “No, not enough.”

Seulgi mounts your lap and puts your semi-hard cock in her pussy. “Oh, there we go.” You tease her by thrusting upwards but earn a slap on the chest in response. “Don’t—I’m already so sore.” “Are we sleeping like this, then?” She nods against your cheek. “If you wake up first tomorrow, feel free to fuck me and cum inside.”

You chuckle. “That’d be a crazy way to start the day.”