#i was lying the dark doing nothing for hours

[arkaniske]

Where the Sea Awaits

AO3 Link * Chapter One: I ask for enough and no more 3300 words * SFW * Jayvik * Selkie!AU Beta read by @kitcatkim Summary: When Jayce Talis discovers a stranger cast ashore, he can't shake the feeling that the sea itself has intertwined their fates. The steady rhythm of the tides he's spent his life mastering is suddenly disrupted, and as he delves into the mystery of a man seemingly torn from the depths, an unexpected bond begins to form.

“The ocean never takes sides, son. She is not cruel, and she is not kind—she just is. Never think you have tamed her; she will never bend to your will. All you can do is ask for her to treat you fairly.”

The ocean is an entity of ancient powers, never to be tamed and never to yield. It is an odd thing how something so brutal and violent can whisper the softest praise to those who know its rhythm. How gentle the lullaby is carried on a salt-tinged breeze only to coax the unexperienced heart into a false sense of security. For beneath its surface, the weight of storms hibernates. The kind of fury that carves mountains into cliffs and swallows ships whole. Like sharp teeth it gnaws at the edges of land, the jagged scars left behind as an ominous reminder to never step near when it’s thrashing about. It has no mercy, no mind for the lives it shapes or destroys.

And yet, even then, there is nothing like witnessing the sunlight dance on waves. Glittering like broken glass, stretching so far beyond the human eye it simply becomes part of the heavens. The seafoam becomes speckled clouds on an ever-blue sky, floating and twisting as if they join on the dance. It bathes in all the colours of the world, shifting and forever changing, and the very heartbeat of the earth will echo in the waves.

The ocean is alive.

Jayce Talis had spent a lifetime learning to respect it. He knew the tides like the lines on his own palms, heard its murmurs in the sails of his boat before the winds even changed, and felt weight of a promised storm tug on his bones long before dark clouds approached. For him, the ocean was both a master and a companion, it had made him fluent in the language of tides and waves. The rhythm of the ocean was echoing through him, aligning his heartbeat to follow its whims.

He rose every morning before first light, the smell of salt and damp wood filling the cabin he'd built himself along the shore. He’d stoke what little embers were left from the night before and watch as the scruffy cat slipped out from its home in the firewood pile. Whenever the cat allowed Jayce would give it a little scratch behind its ear, almost smiling at the soft few huffs of purr before the cat demanded to be let out. He wasn’t sure when he had gained the companion through the years, but regardless, it was the only creature seeking his company out here.

By the time the sun kissed the horizon, Jayce was already at the docks. The walk from his cabin to the local village was barely half an hour, but it was enough to keep the people there at a comfortable distance. He would always make time to greet his mother as they crossed paths to their respective jobs, sometimes earning him a pouch of cookies and a sandwich. He would kiss her forehead, thank her and promise he would invite her for dinner. They both knew he was lying. They knew as night came crawling so would he to her table, to find warmth in a bowl of stew before continuing his journey home alone. He felt guilty, but not guilty enough to hold his promise.

Sometimes she would follow him to the docks, filling the silence with the latest gossips of the town. More often he would find himself at the docks in silence, the village still waking as the sky broke into dawn. It became a sanctuary during these hours, the world around him still wrapped in a sleepy haze. In these quiet moments, the ocean felt like it was his alone. The soft creak of the dock shifting with the waves, the rush of water lapping over the stony shores—it was a melody he had known his whole life, one that he happily hummed along to.

Just as the first sliver of sunlight spilled across the waves Jayce stepped into his boat. Lungs filled with the salty ocean air, the tide vibrating through the planks of his vessel—this was when Jayce truly would awaken. His shoulders rolled with yesterday’s soreness, his fingers cracking under the pressure of carrying old rope and buckets for today’s catch, and his heart beating eagerly in his chest as the first satisfying cough of the motor woke the seagulls.

Jayce guided the boat away from the docks with steady hands, leaving the village behind to become nothing more than a blur of green and grey in the distance. The open waters ahead of him stretched endlessly. It was calm and quiet, its surface a mirror of gold and blue only broken by the gentle swell of waves. It was an overwhelming freedom that settled into his chest, shoulders lowering as their tension finally released him.

The vessel’s motor slowed down as Jayce reached his usual spot, the currents whispering promises of a good haul. He let the boat drift as he moved to the stern and uncoiled the first net before pausing. Standing there with the familiar weight of rope in his hands he stared into the waters.

“Grant me a steady hand and an honest catch, Let the waters guide me, and the nets be kind To the sea, I ask for enough and no more.”

The prayer came as natural as breathing. Old words his father once had taught him when he was young and running around the same old planks he was standing on now.

“Remember,” He had said, net in one hand and his son’s shoulder in the other, “The ocean never takes sides, son. She is not cruel, and she is not kind—she just is. Never think you have tamed her; she will never bend to your will. All you can do is ask for her to treat you fairly.”

At the time Jayce had not understood the weight of his fathers’ words. But then again, he had never seen the waters claim a life. No, that came two years later when he watched the ocean drag his father to its depths, never to release him.

At the sound of his net hitting the water, Jayce started the ritual of his day. Each step, from the casting of the nets to the patient wait that follow, was ingrained in him. There was no rush, no need to chase time out here. The ocean worked at its own pace, and Jayce had long since learned to move with it. Out here he was nothing more than the foam drifting along lazy waves.

The haul of the nets was no different, he would thank the ocean for its bounty before starting the pull. The strain was familiar, almost comforting. Rope biting into his hands, muscles of his back and shoulders burning with the effort, but it was a pain he welcomed. The glint of fish breaking the surface, their scales flashing like silver in the sunlight—it bore a satisfaction he could never find elsewhere. This was honest work, the kind that left him tired but whole.

He worked quietly, the sounds of the ocean filling the spaces where words might have been. As the sun had made its course across the sky, setting fire to the heavens in reds and oranges, he started his trek back to shore. A boat full of fish, hands covered in scales and salt clinging to his hair, the familiar bite of exhaustion crept along his shoulders. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Handing off the haul to the Dockmaster was smooth enough, a transaction done countless times. The owners of the docks, the Kirammans, had always seen that his pockets were filled fairly—whether out of sentimentality or respect for his work, Jayce was not sure.

“Good haul today?” The Dockmaster called, his voice carrying over the water.

Jayce nodded as he eased the boat into place. “Enough.” He replied, tying the boat off swiftly. It took little effort to carry the crates of fish over to the Dockmaster. After a quick and thorough inspection, the man gave him an approving nod.

“All good! Same time tomorrow?” The man asked.

“Always.” Jayce replied.

As the Dockmaster directed his workers to haul the heavy crates towards the market, Jayce retrieved a smaller bucket he’d set aside. The lesser catch wasn’t much but it would make a fine meal, his mother would make sure of that.

Jayce carried the spoils of the day carefully as he made his way from the docks. The warmth the sun had carried was starting to ebb away with the promise of nightfall. Shadows stretched long across the path leading to his mother’s home and with it the quiet of the village. It was a small place, nestled between the cliffs and the sea, its streets winding like vines between clustered houses. The mountains and dense forest laying behind keeping them all sheltered from the world beyond.

As Jayce walked an occasional villager would greet him in passing—a nod here, a wave there, a tired smile. Familiar faces offering simple pleasantries, their voices carrying warmth and kindness. Some just for greetings, others more direct requests.

“Jayce, if you have a moment this week, could have a look at my boat’s engine?” one might say, or, “The pulley systems’ been sticking again; you’re the only one who can make sense of it!”

Jayce always responded politely, his smile easy and his words brief. He knew their problems by heart and hand, having patched, repaired, and coaxed life back into more vessels than he cared to count. He didn’t mind helping, it was one of the many ways he carried on the Talis legacy. His father and grandfather before him had both been fixtures in this village, known not for only their work on the water but also for the care they offered to others. The Talis name was spoken with a kind of quiet respect—earned through years of steady hands, honest work and a willingness to lend those hands wherever they were needed.

The village mourned with him and his mother when his father was taken. Years of gratitude pouring back on the two left behind, wrapping them in a comfort only a family could provide. Jayce was forever grateful, repaying in one of the few ways he knew—continuing his father’s work with the same tools. His hands carried the same calluses, his shoulders the same weight, and when the villagers asked for his aid, he could never bring himself to say no.

Even now, as exhaustion pulled at him and the thought of his mother’s warm kitchen awaiting him, he couldn’t help but mentally sort the requests he’d received along the way. later, he’d make time. He always did.

That was for tomorrow. For now, though, he let the thought of warm food pull him in the direction of his mother. He tightened the grip on the bucket as he approached, light spilling from the windows to welcome him.

The door opened before Jayce could knock, the familiar creak of hinges followed by the scent of rosemary and wood smoke. His mother was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in his appearance.

“Late again,” she said, her tone held more amusement than bite, “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten where you mamá lives.”

Jayce gave her a sheepish smile and lifted the bucket to show it off. “Caught up with work, sorry.” He replied.

“Hm-hmm.” She reached out, taking the bucket from him before stepping aside. “Thank you, mijo. Now, go sit down and we’ll have a meal before you keel over.”

Jayce didn’t argue. He stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around him like a blanket. The small home was inviting as always, every corner touched with his mother’s care. Bundles of herbs hung in neat rows from the beams above, their faint earthy aroma mingling with the rich smell of whatever she had been cooking. The walls lined with shelves, jars of dried plants and tinctures neatly labelled all in her tidy handwriting.

Before he could even sink into one of the chairs his mother had placed a bowl of hearty stew in front of him. Steam rose in soft curls, carrying the aroma of herbs and rich broth. Chunks of tender fish floated among the slices of carrot, potato, and onion. It was the kind of meal that warmed from the inside out, simple but full of care.

“Go on, eat up.” Ximena said, setting down a mug of tea and a thick slice of bread next to the bowl. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the tide.”

Jayce chuckled softly, picking up the spoon and starting to eat. Every bite carried warmth that seeped into his bones, washing away the weariness of the day. His mother joining him, her voice light and easy as she shared the village’s latest happenings. How the neighbours couldn’t decide between goats or chickens, how she had an extra stubborn patch in her garden that refused to grow, how Jarle’s bones said it would be stormy tomorrow.

Jayce knew Jarle was wrong. Tomorrow would be fine.

*+*+*+*+*

By the time they had finished their meal, he felt lighter. The weight of the ocean no longer pulling on his mind but rather a gentle buzz in the back of his head. He lingered at the table, cradling the mug of tea between his hands. His mother cleaning off the table swiftly, giving him a look when he tried to offer his help. “You could stay the night,” she said, her tone casual but eyes soft with concern. She settled across from him again, hands folding in front of her. “It is getting late, and the walk back isn’t getting any shorter.” Jayce smiled faintly, shaking his head. “I need to feed the cat.” He replied. Her brow lifted, lips curving into a wry smile, her affection pulling on her teasing tone. “The one you’ve yet to name after two years?” Jayce let out a quiet chuckle, taking another sip of tea to avoid answering directly. It was a poor excuse, but it was one that seemed to work. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her—he did, fiercely. The warmth of her kitchen, the sound of her voice, and the way she always seemed to know what he needed before he did—it was a comfort the cherished. But staying meant lingering, and lingering meant facing the silence that came when her stories ran dry and the quiet of the night that crept it. It was in those moments, he felt like a boy again, sitting at the same table with a hollow space where his father used to be. The walls seemed closer then, the air heavier, filled with unspoken memories he wasn’t ready to face. He didn’t realise he had let his thoughts wander until his mother placed a smaller pot with leftovers and a cloth filled with bread in front of him. She gave him a soft smile and reached out to pet his cheek. “For tomorrow.” She explained and Jayce felt the warmth in his own smile as he nodded. “Thank you, mamá.” He took the pot under one hand and tucked the bread away in the pocket of his coat. He lingered for a moment, filling his lungs with a final inhale of comfort before heading to the door. “You be safe now, Jayce.” “Always.” He leaned down and placed a kiss to her forehead, the gesture warm and familiar before taking his leave. The night air greeted him as he stepped outside, cool and crisp against his skin. The lanterns along the houses of the village creating small pools of golden light on the cobblestone. He adjusted his coat and leftovers before making his way towards home.

*+*+*+*+*

As the glow of the village lights disappeared behind him, the sound of the ocean grew stronger. The tide a constant rhythm that echoed somewhere in his chest. The walk back home felt longer than the one he had in the morning, his steps heavy with sleep. Overhead, the moon hung large and low, its silver light spilling over the road ahead, casting the world in soft and muted hues. The shadows of trees swaying gently with the whispers of wind that danced over the forest. Soon the hum of the village fell into silence too, to be replaced by the symphony of the night. The steady crash of waves against the shore, the soft chirp of insects and the far-off hoot from an owl wove together in a melody Jayce so often found himself searching for. His cabin finally came into view, a modest silhouette against the vast expanse of the forest behind it. But that was nothing compared to the endless ocean it was facing. The fat moon hanging above the sea, mirroring itself in the small waves as if it were falling in love with its own reflection. The sight tugged at something in Jayce’s chest, a quiet ache he couldn’t quite name. For a moment, he simply stood there, letting the night embrace him. A cold chill of wind pushed him along, reminding him that the sun would rise whether he slept or not. He adjusted the pot under his arm, gaze sweeping across the water one final time before he made his way to the door. Even the driftwood by the shore seemed to bask in the moon’s light. He made a mental note to haul it up in the morning and carve something out of it—perhaps a trinket or a tool handle, or even a simple decoration for his mother’s home. His eyes lingered on the log before he turned to let himself inside the cabin. Then it moved. Not by the gentle push and pull of the tide but a slow, deliberate twist. Like something dragging itself across the sand. Jayce stopped. Eyes narrowing as he tried to make out the shape, the moonlight suddenly wasn’t enough to illuminate the scene in front of him. An injured animal, perhaps? Or a seal caught too close to shore? God, he hoped he wasn’t about to adopt a dog—or worse, be eaten by a wolf. He hesitated, torn between the pull of his warm cabin and the growing worry tightening in his chest. With a quiet sigh, he turned and headed towards the beach. If it was an animal he could perhaps help, either by putting it out of its misery or giving it a gentle nudge towards the water. With every step closer the shape of the creature became cleared. It became obvious it wasn’t a piece of driftwood nor was it an animal—not the kind he was used to seeing at least. He walked quietly across the sand; he could feel himself hold his breath as tension rose in his body. Was it a beached shark? A small dugong, maybe? He quickly started thinking through all the ocean creatures he normally came across, but nothing fit what was in front of him. That was when a heart-wrenching sob echoed from it—no, not it, them. Jayce stopped in his tracks, his breath catching when the moonlight revealed pale skin glinting faintly under a mess of dark, tangled hair. It spilled over the figure’s back and shoulders, damp and matted, trailing down where thin limbs disappeared into the sand. The longer Jayce stared the less animalistic they looked, as if they were someone dragged up from the depths of the ocean itself, caught somewhere between its cruelty and grace. Jayce’s chest tightened as the realisation crashed down on him. This wasn’t an animal. It was a man.

[rorasjournal]

Comfort in shadows | Azriel

lil short azriel fluff to start off my journey on tumblr hehe

pairing: azriel x reader

synopsis: y/n is stressed out about her responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can soothe her anxiety

word count: 819

warnings: none really, maybe some light man handling

~

     The balls of my knuckles turn white as my grip on the terrace rails tighten while I stare out at the night swept view of velaris laid out in the distance, anxiety plaguing my mind. I've been trying to distract myself from all the thoughts gushing around for the past hour, but nothing has been working.

     There's just too much going on right now, too much that I feel the need to deal with all on my own, and I'm fucking tired.

     Whispering shadows cling to my skin, dancing along my body before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against a familiar chest.

     "It's cold out here," Azriel mutters, tucking his face into the crook of my neck and pressing a soft kiss there. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against his shoulder.

     "I know."

     "So why are you out here?"

     When I don't reply, Azriel spins me around, sandwiching me between the rail and his body and forcing our gazes to meet. "What is it?"

     I don't want to talk about any of it, especially not to Azriel. He's always so calm and collected, dealing with his responsibilities with so much grace and without complaint. I don't know how to be like that. "Nothing."

     He lowers his face to mine, our noses brushing together and pulling the air from my lungs as he whispers, "I thought we were done with the lies."

     "I'm not lying," I insist, ultimately webbing myself up in more deception regardless of the fact that Azriel clearly sees straight through me. He doesn't even need to use his shadows to figure me out.

A breath passes through his nose before he scoops me up, dangling me over his shoulder and walking inside while I yell out in detest.

"Put me down, asshole!"

     "Gladly," he says, flipping me so my back hits the mattress of our bed. He's on top of me in a flash, his mouth attached to my neck as he sucks on my sensitive skin. My breathe hitches in my throat, a hand instinctively reaching to his head and threading my fingers through his dark hair. "What's going on?" he asks again, mumbling the words against my neck as he continues his work.

     So that's what he's doing. Azriel is turning my mind to mush so he can get an admission out of me. Slick bastard.

Smart bastard though.

     "I just—" I'm not sure if I'm struggling to get the words out because I don't want to say it out loud, or because his tongue is running up the base of my neck. "I'm stressed out, I don't know. Rhys wants me dealing with the Autumn Court and Beron is just such an asshole, I don't know how to handle all of this at once."

     Pulling away, Azriel looks at me with furrowed brows. "Why was that so difficult for you to tell me?"

     I turn my cheek against the mattress to avert my gaze, but Azriel grips my jaw, forcing me back.

     What is with him and male-handling me today?

     "Can you not see how it would be embarrassing admitting that I'm overwhelmed to the spymaster, the shadow singer who always keeps his head level, who always knows what's going on and how to deal with it?"

With a sigh, Azriel sits up, grabbing one of my hands to urge me up as well.

     "I think you of all people should know that I've lost my cool a few number of times.”

“Yeah, a few," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "That's a few hundred less than me."

     The corner of his mouth ticks up. "Y/n."

     "Azriel."

     That just makes his smile grow. "You know it's okay to ask for help, right?" he whispers, tenderly tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear as I lean away. "Especially from me."

     "But that's my point, I shouldn't need to ask for help. I should be able to deal with this on my own like everyone else does."

     "There's not one person in this court that hasn't needed assistance from the others at one point or another, and I'm pretty damn sure you should know that considering it's usually you that's doing the assisting." He chuckles. "You don't even realise you're doing it, do you."

     I sigh, leaning over and resting my forehead on his chest as he drapes an arm across my shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

     "You're the strongest person I know, that's not going to change just because Beron is pulling your strings."

     "I wish you didn't always sound so wise, it makes it hard for me to not listen to your advice."

     His chest rumbles as he laughs quietly. He completely scoops me up into his arms, dragging me onto his lap as he whispers, "I will always be that reassuring voice in your ear."

[youngwonhui]

✦ live on my knees, make you see | ch. 2

*•. member: choi seungcheol x afab reader

*•. summary: your life goes on, and it leads you to more and more interweaving encounters. Things progresses between you and Seungcheol. More rollercoaster to ensues.

*•. genre: angst, strangers to lovers; kinda, corporate and family drama, life and misunderstanding happened in general

*•. wc: 9963

*•. warnings: unintentionally introducing corporate drama. no, i am not projecting. maybe.

*•. cross posted in AO3

chapter 1 | chapter 2

Shrinking.

That’s the feeling that has been eating your nerve for the past week.

Your team or your new boss never question you when you took a week to work remotely from your house instead of going to the office. A general concern from your team, but nothing that you couldn’t handle with a few excuses of feeling mildly unwell.

Which isn’t exactly wrong.

But the underlying feeling of being a coward doesn’t sit well beneath your skin. Getting you restless even when you’re lying down your bed, safe under the cover. Your thought runs to the unexpected meeting at Seungcheol’s front door.

You remember when your mom caught you once in middle school. Skipping class and spending time in a PC room. Unfortunately she had caught on your investigative mission of looking around the internet For your so called ‘father’.

It resulted in hours of your mother’s scolding. Back then it meant nothing. But eventually you realize that half of her anger wasn’t so much because of you, but because of the fact that you just unearthed. How your father is posting a photo of him and a little boy. Proudly captioned with somewhere along the line of a special day at school with said little boy.

Back then, or now, you can always recognize the bright brown eyes and high cheekbones. How he grown out of a curly hair and braces. If you have any conscience, you would be ashamed of stalking a stranger on the internet. But your anger, it stained your heart and then dried with animosity for years.

For now, obliviousness and daily routine will be your medicine.

As you took another step that morning, finally coming back to the office, wind gets impossibly brisk with every movement you make. Looking down to your feet, you didn’t manage to notice the familiar figure waiting for you by the entrance of the building. Disheveled as ever, tuft of dark brown curls making its way out of the tied hoodie.

“Y/n.”

Looking up, the sight of a visibly sleepy Seungcheol welcomes you. His lips stretch into a lazy smile as he makes his way to you. Dimple carving deeper the closer he came to you. Gulping down the words you wanted to make, you simply accept a cup of warm coffee thrusted to you. Another cup perched in Seungcheol’s grip.

“If you’re not too busy after work, do you want to come up later?” The man in front of you paused, a little unsure in his words but he immediately nodded lightly. More to himself rather than to convince you. Both of you know that you give each other enough respect to do anything you wanted to do. Or in this case, you’re free to say no to his offer.

The long curl that escaped the hoodie has made its way to his barely opened eyes. The warmth of familiarity hits your chilling bone.

How most of your morning spent bumping into Seungcheol like this. After he spend ungodly hours in his studio or apartment. Then, only when the day finally breaks and a glimpse of sunlight finally shown its way past the horizon, only then Seungcheol would finally steps outside to fresh air.

Unfortunately you can only remain silent, unable to offer him a word to cheer up his barely starting day. Fingers gripping the cup rather tightly as you rearrange your thought.

Noticing this, Seungcheol’s free hand enveloped yours. Warmth emanating yours as you sigh defeatedly. With one last caress from Seungcheol’s thumb, he retracted with a murmur of time. Somewhere along the line of not wanting you to be late for work. He turned to the door with a little wave and a lazy smile. You follow suit and climbing up the stairs a few steps behind. Until you arrived at your floor and Seungcheol turned around to you.

“I mean it when i’m inviting you Y/n, so please knock on my door. It’s only me and no one else. If that thought bring you peace.”

\\

There were cards and flower on your desk. Mixes of ‘welcome back’ and ‘get well soon’ written in various colours and fonts. Smiling as you accept it all. Somehow you’re not surprise they—your team, even ordered a cake just to commemorate the occasion.

You had vehemently refused to put on a cone hat, but you enjoy the greeting despite the overly doting attention you had been given. You thanked them more for the work that has been cut out for you. Working a little overtime to research and oversee on-site materials that you could have missed from working remotely. So you dedicated each extra slices of cake for the three.

At the end of the day, you tried waited for everyone to leave. But none of your team wanted you to spend extra time of doing any work. You tried to assure them that you wouldn’t, but they were adamant, resulting in you blurting out that you’re going to see a friend instead.

“If i see you typing on your comp—” It was time to clock out, and you barely lift up your head to notice three pair of eyes are looking at you who still has your butt planted to your chair.

“Are you threatening me Jisun?” You chuckled, making a show to cross your arm.

“Well, you pull this kind of things often. We just don’t wanna leave until you leave.” Soyeon’s reply making you sigh in frustration. A smidge of adoration for them.

“We just want to make sure you’re not overworking yourself again.” Chan simply stated.

“Well, i am not? I’m gonna just go and see my friend and not spend any time working on anything at all.” You raise your hand in defeat. The three in front of you shares glances with meaningful silent discussion. You can still sense the doubt between them. “If you guys have to know, my friend is in this building too. That’s why i’m staying and not rushing out.”

“Then we should escort you to them.” Chan suggested, met with series of nod in approval by his friends.

“Absolutely not.”

The finality of your word eventually makes its effect moments later. When you’re closing every folder and turning your desktop off. Shouldering the bag you bring, as you ushered your team out of the room and eventually the office. True to their nature, the three-left climbing down the stairs with curious whispers.

Presumably planning a coup if they eventually make their mind to it.

There’s always the option of going home. Walking out of the building to convince them further that you wouldn’t overwork as they claim.

Yet the other choice weighs down your heart. Images flashes in your mind. Of messy, curly, and sleepy figure in most of your commute. Always within reach but seemingly far away. Although you have yourself partly to blame about that.

Heaving out a breath, you knocked at the familiar door.

Rendering a smile in your face when the door opened to a sight of Seungcheol. Not much different than this morning, only less fatigue and questionably fluffier. Somehow.

He welcomes you as always, Kkuma trotting in tow. Little paws trying its best to catch up as Seungcheol lead you to the familiar open space. Where his living room and kitchen connected as one, situated in polar opposite.

You catch the faint melody flowing through one of the speakers Seungcheol has installed in various spot of the place. Also noticing the clean state of his apartment. As if Hansol was never here at all. Opening the door to you, resulting in the shattering of your living bubble into the reality.

“Have you eaten? I ha—”

“Hansol and me— he’s my half-brother.”

At the sudden confession, Seungcheol looks up to you. Catching the air you didn’t spend. Looking back straight to Seungcheol as if you’re gauging for his response. Or simply looking for encouragement. Strengthen the bone to support you from where you stood now.

“His father have me before he went to New York and then Hansol was born. I know his father knew about my existence, but i didn’t know that Hansol does too. So, imagine my surprise when i see him opening your apartment door.”

There’s a box full of your baby pictures, hidden by the dark corner of your closet. One picture stood out. Of you, barely opening your eyes as you’re being held by a man you never felt like a father. Your mother didn’t delegate it to you, but you kept it anyway. Like an unspoken open secret.

You wished that apathy is all you felt towards those pictures. But it was otherwise back then.

Barely entering middle school and deep in a childish dispute with your mother, you opened those boxes and simply enthralled by the notion of a ‘father’. Who left you and your mother. Barely months after you breathe the air in this earth.

He left after knowing you.

And that was the spark, of your hidden obsession towards your father’s new family, the family he didn’t abandon. A new partner, a boy, and a little girl. Such perfect family.

It goes on years and years, those obsessions. Until your mother fell sick.

The thought of old memories pricked your eyes. Regrets of mistakes you could never set undone. Clenching your fist tightly to keep your proper composure, you look back at Seungcheol who remained silent. Your eyes boring into his calm composure, clad in an oversized white T-shirt and beige jogger.

“My question remained, Y/n.” Seungcheol paused before pulling a plate on the rack. “Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t but—”

“Then let’s eat. I have to shamefully admit i spend some hours on this seaweed soup but it only ended up being mediocre. At least it had plenty of meat in it. And that’s a win.” You let out a mix of laughter and exasperated sigh at Seungcheol’s proposition.

“Are you not gonna ask me anything?”

You had make a stride towards him. Now only separated by the marble countertop of Seungcheol’s kitchen island. Leaning to the surface, Seungcheol raises his brow at your question. A rebuttal that jolts your heartbeat by a split second.

“Do. You. Want. To. Try. My. Seaweed. Soup?” The emphasize on each and every word while being uttered in such deadpanned face, you can’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips. Looking away to prevent you from focusing too much on the dimple that formed on Seungcheol’s cheeks by now.

Then, you could only give in.

Sat on the dining table that couldn’t be describe by other word than ‘familiar’ and ‘cozy’. Although perched on a quite small table, you admit that you enjoy the proximity of sitting closer to share foods with Seungcheol. Other than when you can’t be bothered and just sat sprawled by the floor with pizza box by your side. That was one night after you helped Seungcheol to bathe Kkuma.

With one bowl of warm rice and more than enough portion of seaweed soup, you sat and kept the silence. You feel like you’ve said what you need and now it’s just up to Seungcheol. Although you had an inkling that it doesn’t have to be up to him.

It never was in the first place. Clarifying your situation to Seungcheol. You could’ve goes on without doing so. Yet there’s a part of your mind where it knows that the fact you just blurt out to Seungcheol lightened the weight in both of your heart and head.

“Are you gonna offer me dessert too?”

Seungcheol looks up to your suggestion, lips tugged to a smile. Cheeks fallen deeper into his dimple. Brown curls down to his eyes but you know he raises his eyebrow. It’s like a subconscious habit for him.

“Sure, what do you want?”

Seungcheol gestures you to follow him, eventually leading you to his fridge. You stood close to the open door, flinching a little from the flowing cold air. It brought you closer to Seungcheol’s side. His one arm still gripping the fridge door handle tightly.

“Don’t judge me, but i just love to stock up on many sweets. Ice cream, cheesecake, cookie dough, pastry, you name it.” Seungcheol admitted bashfully, averting his eyes up and down his fully packed fridge shelves. Strangely you can’t avert yours from his side profile. The proximity allows you to notice how long his lashes actually are.

“You want to bake some cookie?”

Your eventual suggestion earns a slow nod of approval from Seungcheol before he leans closer to you and reaching for the pre-packaged cookie dough.

It shouldn’t surprise you that Seungcheol are not well versed in baking. Based on how he’s making rounds around the space of his kitchen, only looking for utensils and finding ways to pre-heat his oven. So to cut back time, you delegate him to assist you instead.

Mixing chocolate chips and rolling out the dough evenly only took you less than thirty minutes. Seungcheol could only exclaimed in amazement beside you as you eventually slid the tray of dough into the oven.

“Why am i not surprised that you’re good at baking.” Seungcheol started, placing a timer on the top of the counter as you both wait for the cookie.

“You can’t barely call it baking compared to when i used to do a part-time at a bakery.” You chuckled, wiping some grease in your hand with a towel. Setting it aside before settling beside Seungcheol. Leaning against the counter overlooking directly to the warm oven. “But i’ll take that as a compliment.”

Silence easily weaves its way between the two of you. Soft clicking of the timer, as well as pitter patter of Kkuma walking around the apartment.

“Don’t you want to ask me anything about Hansol?” You eventually said. Looking ahead to the orange light inside the oven instead of the man beside you. The heat from his gaze felt warm on your cheek.

“Do you want talk about Hansol?” There’s a low vibration rushing down your from your nape each time Seungcheol speak. “I feel like i’m not in a position to interrogate you regarding your private matter. From where i stood what i’m able to do is invite you to dinner, accompany you to drink some beer, watch a movie, or listen when you want to talk.”

You can feel the rigid muscle on your face, brows furrowed over some jumbled thought of everything that has anything to do with Hansol. Days has passed since meeting him up close, yet your feeling still can’t make itself clear in your mind. Rendering you lost and somewhat helpless. In the end you only feels pathetic for yourself as you try to force yourself to sleep every night.

“It was always me and my mom. We understand each other, rely on each other. Even though i was a young and stupid kid. She accepted her fate to raise me alone, and i always admire her for being able to make me understand how it came to be like this.” You paused, smiling to yourself at the memories of your mother. “She also understands my anger, my spite, as well as my sadness. So— i am sorry if i couldn’t tell you anything right now Seungcheol.”

The man beside you shifted on his feet before positioning himself in front of you. He placed his palms on your arms, holding you steady. Something you didn’t know you needed, even though you’re staying in one spot.

“Then we can just bake cookies.” Seungcheol whispers, resulting to a wet chuckle from you.

“You’re taking your position very seriously huh? What’s next, you’re gonna make me watch the rom-com movie you forgot to finish?” There’s a feeling of relief that Seungcheol didn’t retract his hold. You’ve grown to enjoy the warmth from his palms.

“Well, i happened to fall asleep last night while watching ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’.”

Harmonious laughter follows to fill the room. Above the droning noises, Seungcheol bowed his head a little in abashed. Fully proving how you’ve managed to read his habit like he’s an open book. You raise your eyebrow in reply, Seungcheol fixes his eyes back to you as he lowers his hand. Regretfully so.

But thankfully he didn’t move away.

There’s a sweet scent wafting in the air. Weaving in between the two of you. A signal that the cookies are almost done baking. Freshly filled with laughter and spurred by the smile that seems like it hasn’t left Seungcheol’s face, your curiosity gets the best of you.

“Have you been waiting for me every morning?”

From this proximity, it allows you to see how Seungcheol’s eyes dance around in surprise. Eventually his gaze returns back to you, a certain confidence lodged in his frame. Wetting his lips once, Seungcheol chuckled in defeat.

“Maybe i am, if i’m not too caught up in the studio.” You blink at his answer, a jolt of surprise running in your brain. “How could i not? After seeing you run away from me like that.”

“I was not running away from you. You know that.” A nod of understanding came as Seungcheol reply. You found yourself small in recollection of that night.

“I do, but with the state you were that night.” A paused, as Seungcheol sigh deeply. “How could i not worry? and then i found out you’re not coming to work the next day? I care about you too much to not do anything and sit on my hand.”

You were waiting. For anything, any signs that Seungcheol is just joking. Or some elaborate explanation of how he only ‘cares’ as a friend. But you’re only met with Seungcheol’s face as it remain in its somewhat default setting. A soft smile and attentive dark brown eyes, almost obstructed by his brown curls.

Desperation must’ve written itself in your face, even you could feel it. The words dies in your tongue though. Fear creeps up your thought over some word Seungcheol has nonchalantly uttered. You want to curse him for that, but you found yourself swayed in the thought of being a person that he cares about.

The loud ring from the timer sends your shoulder flinching. Immediately halting the long thread of thoughts in your mind. Reaching out behind you, Seungcheol moves closer to turn off the timer. He didn’t hesitate to smile sweetly at you before putting the quiet timer back to the counter and then left you to make a beeline to the oven.

Oh, yeah. Cookies.

\\

You almost bumped to a person when you look up from your phone as you’re replying to an urgent email that find you since the break of dawn.

Quick steps fumbling on the sidewalk as you tries to stabilize both your bearing and the person you almost bumped into. Sadly some contents of your bags flown out in the process.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t look at where i am going!” Frantic voice filled your ears before you crouch down the ground to pick up any fallen objects that you recognized as yours. The remaining already picked up quickly by the other person.

You notice the long flowing brown hair with accented small braids as it’s adorned by colourful ribbon. She’s quite young, much younger than you when you managed to look closely at her face as you both stood up after finishing to pick the the fallen objects.

While rearranging the contents of her bag with one hand, you notice her other one that’s gripping her phone tight as showing her screen displaying a map. You don’t know what came over you. Seeing that you never seen the girl around this time of day, while said girl is holding a map to some direction, you have a hunch that the girl is probably lost.

“Do you need help with directions?” You offered, quickly pointing to the map in her phone.

“Oh my god, i would say no because I don’t wanna inconvenience you more. But i am so lost. I think i’ve been circling around these block three times.” The girl exclaimed, a hint of annoyance painting her voice.

You make a quick queries of where she headed and to your unexpected surprise, she showed you the address to your office building.

“Oh? I’m actually going there now.”

“Oh my god. Are you for real?”

With a quick nod, you offer her to join you in your commute. The girl jumped a little as she gleefully agrees and immediately following your footsteps.

You make a quick apology when you realize you have to answer some email as you walk. Not being able to entertain the girl of some conversation. You should be wary of stranger, or at least paid some attention to your surroundings when you’re walking with one. But your guts telling you the girl is harmless.

She walks with her eyes wandering to anything that caught her attention. Your own eyes couldn't help to wander to her. How some of her feature, although hidden under the long flowing curls of brown reminded you of someone. The thought dies down on the tip of your tongue once you realize you've arrived.

“We’re here, do you need help findi—”

“Sofia!”

The two of you turned to the source of voice.

There was a rush as the girl beside you hurried to leave your spot and skips away in a gleeful shriek. As you turn to where the girl was going, nothing could prepare you for the sight of the other person.

The familiar brown eyes and high cheekbones.

“Hansol, i spend the whole hours walking around the street—”

The girl— Sofia’s words are quickly cut as Hansol lands his eyes to you. Even from far away, you can see the Hansol clenches his jaw tightly. As seem in resolute, he dragged Sofia by her elbow and make his way to you.

The fear that knocks you out almost a week ago strangely doesn't find you. Standing still as you held your phone in hand. You thank any nearby god that you still has strength left to do so. Who knows what else you would do in this situation.

“Ouch, dude what the hell—” Sofia muttered in annoyance.

“I— thanks for helping her. We will be going.” Bowing his head rigidly, Hansol breezed past you with Sofia in tow.

They leave shuffling away as Hansol managed to keep his hold on Sofia who put less effort on her struggle. Yet managed to turn her head back to you and wave with a smile.

“I don't know who you are but thank you for your help!”

Subconsciously you found yourself waving back. Despite your stunned thoughts from the whilrwind of interaction between Hansol and the girl— Sofia. And you.

Blinking the thought to pushed it away. You went to work like nothing happened.

Finishing task after task like nothing is bothering your mind.

And when the clock strike at 6PM, when majority of the office already leave or in the middle of getting ready to leave, your mind tuned back to those thought. Back to the surprising meeting from this morning.

Subconsciously you found yourself knocking at Seungcheol’s door. Pack of beer in your hand.

Strange to think that your muddled mind brought you here. To a place that you don't even know until a few months ago. Through some coincidence at that. The thought of many late night snacks and quick banter of conversation every time you bumped into Seungcheol has never failed to bring a whisper of smile on your face.

You wouldn't dare to admit it from time to time. But as your deep rooted habit remain a baleful shadow in your mind, you boxed that thought and feeling and wrapped it in the most beautiful ribbon. Easy in your mind so you wouldn't dare to delve deeper into it.

“Well hello Y/n.”

But it was so easy.

To swim into his dark brown eyes, framed under his strong brow. Nestled above his ever so raised cheeks that slope into his dimples every time he smiles.

“Hi there, wanna help me drink this up?” Raising the pack in your hand, Seungcheol is quick to take it off of you when he realizes what you bring.

With a slight tilt of his head, Seungcheol urges you to go in. Complying felt easy on your step. Smiling when you spot a white fluff coming in fast from across the room once you set yourself inside. Among the space you felt comfortable and in peace.

Unsurprisingly, Seungcheol already has a spread of little bites on his coffee table. Surrounding a legal pad and his ipad. As usual, there’s a flow of music through the speaker. Lulling you deeper into the warmth of the space.

Turning to a smiling Seungcheol, beers already set to the table before he looks back to you. The coziness are inviting you to spill your thoughts. To empty your day to him, in words uttered with the background of whatever music Seungcheol has put on. While Kkuma is somewhere dozing or strutting away her energy around the place.

Talking about everything but not the one you had been stored away, Seungcheol noticed the slight strain in your brow as you gaze at the can of beer you’ve been nursing for the past thirty minutes. A slight nudge on your arm took your attention from it and into Seungcheol. His gaze questioning.

“You talk about even the littlest thing about today. But why do you look like you still have so many more to tell me.” His voice are never demanding. Low rumble in your proximity as he’s always softly easing you to your thoughts.

“I think i met Hansol’s sister today.” The silence from Seungcheol are urging you to continue. Inhaling deeper with a hint of smile, you put down your beer to face the man beside you. “I remember when i was looking into Hansol’s dad, that he’s having a babygirl. A baby sister for Hansol. I remember i was so angry. I don’t quite understand why back then, heck i even denied to everyone around me that i was angry. Masking it all like a prideful kid. What a shame. Because if i just admit those anger, i think the grudge wouldn’t be eating me up like this. Making me live my days working like a dog as if i wasn’t enough for anything.”

Your voice has tapered to silence, the amount of alcohol you had consumed doesn’t quite helping your situation now. Spilling old and dried thought into someone like Seungcheol.

Wordlessly, Seungcheol slid his hand to yours. A light squeeze is enough to give you all the assurance in the world. That he’s listening.

“After knowing Hansol has a baby sister, i tried to forget about their existence. I stopped digging around and keeping tab on the family of a man that abandoned me. I lived, but like i said, i feel like i live as a corpse. Even when my mom fell ill, when she had to move to a care facility with our distant relative in Daegu because i can’t really took care of her and she wouldn’t want me to stop going to college here. Even then, i still think about them. I always thought that i would never meet them. That i could never discern his face among the crowds and we would live passing through each other without truly knowing each other. Yet here i am, bumping into both of them, and Hansol are probably thinks that i was a weirdo or a creep.”

A raised eyebrow from Seungcheol earned a chuckle from you. He know the reality of your last sentence. That even though years had passed, you still could recognize Hansol—and even his sister just from a single abrupt meeting.

The lack of sobriety in your part lets you feel a little loose. Letting out airy laughs without fully paying attention to the decreasing gap between you and Seungcheol. Sitting sprawled above his soft rug and leaning against his sofa. A crushed cans of beer put aside, your sole excuse just so you can come knocking to Seungcheol’s door and then spilling years of buried down secrets.

“You know, we all imagined all sorts of things in our life. And the funny thing is, seems like the universe are always listening to those, but they only listen. So that they could do things so out of your way that makes you think what you’re dreaming is useless. At least that’s what i always thought after failing to do everything that i wanted. A little silly thought to comfort me rather than blaming it in other people and then fall deeper into baseless hate.” Seungcheol giggles, his shoulder shaking as his hand remain on yours. Thumb caressing lightly in nonchalant.

Maybe you were much more lacking in sobriety than you thought you were. Maybe it’s the slight rumble of Seungcheol’s laughs and deep voice that you could feel whenever he’s near. Nonetheless, there’s something pulling you. An invisible force—first in your mind. As you circle around another thought you wrapped away, acting like you don’t even see it. Back to a few nights ago, spent together in the kitchen and with sweet smell of cookies.

Acting like you don’t know what came over you was easy. But actually doing what your mind told you to do is giving you such rush that rivalling the height that alcohol brings. And sweeter, even.

Your free hand traveled to cup Seungcheol’s cheek. With a surge, you plant your lips to his. Soft as you can feel the cherry lipbalm Seungcheol often applies. With your eyes closed you savour the air that has left your lungs and now filled with a deeper substance that bring a jolt to your heart with every second.

It was a peck on any other level, you’re somewhat didn’t dare to do more than that after feeling the body beside you froze as you continue your ministration. The audible little gasp from Seungcheol proven further to you that maybe a peck is enough for you. Enough that you didn’t cross any line to push him away.

You didn’t dare to utter any words. Simply pulling away slowly as your eyelids flutter open to the sight of Seungcheol, his face is a perfect example of soft steel. Strangely enough you think Seungcheol can read your mind. Because the moment you’re about to burst out of where you sat and scramble out of his apartment, Seungcheol has had his grip on your elbow. His palm felt burning on your skin.

“I can’t let you go home like this.”

His whisper anchors you to remain where you are. Buzzing with a newfound excitement when Seungcheol wouldn’t move even a millimeter away from your lips. A smirk on his lips accompanied his words while his free hand had traveled to hold your nape.

The burning hold he had on your elbow loosened but the sensation remain.

“I was so surprised, i thought the beer was mixed with something. Causing a hallucination of you actually kissing me.” Seungcheol’s warm breath washes down your lips. You can’t control yourself to remain unaffected as you bit your lower lip. Your eyes searches his.

“Well you can’t barely called that a kiss, Seungcheol.” You taunt.

“That’s true, here let me show you then.” He smiles.

Was all that you heard before you can feel his smile on your lips. The hand on your nape pulls you closer as you wrap yours around his, burrowing your fingers to the curly strand that earned you a satisfied hums from Seungcheol. His lips are still chasing yours with a small tugs to your freshly bitten lower lips. It sends your toes quite literally curling into Seungcheol’s expensive carpet.

There was barely any moment Seungcheol would let you pull away. No matter how breathless you both feels. The way you both melting into each other’s touch felt too good to end so soon. Not when you’re close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat in such proximity.

The months long since you’ve been meeting him, you felt like it sets so many things afoot. A roller coaster that you would never thought to happened. Your whole life have not been a flat ground so to say, yet the things that happened since the day you accidentally set yourself in front of Seungcheol’s apartment felt like it has to happened whether you like it or not.

That include meeting Seungcheol.

You had to admit that you’ve been avoiding the feeling you got. Each meeting setting off more surprising warmth in your heart. From the little smile Seungcheol gave you as he offers you a piece of gum each time after you’re done smoking to the time where he looks down from his window as if he’s a modern day rapunzel.

Unknowingly a chuckle had escaped your lips, bouncing off straight to Seungcheol’s face. Eyes half lidded as his long wisps of his eyelashes grazes his cheeks. He can’t help to mirror the delight on your features. You leaned into the thumb that has traveled to your cheek. Rough calloused surface caressing softly with as much care in the world.

“What’s so funny? Y/n?”

Despite his light grumble as you shift in your seat, inadvertently creating a few inches gaps between you two, Seungcheol kept his gaze to your lips. Curved into a smile, a rose blush painted on each end.

“Nothing,” a pause as you took a deep needed breath. Your muddled thought eventually settled throughout your long winded day. “I don’t know why, i just feel happy. Despite what happened today.”

Without a beat, Seungcheol pulls you into a hug. One that neither bone-crushing or halfhearted. Enough to make you feel the warmth of his chest, clad the soft materials of his T-shirt. Reveling the scent of his cologne due to the proximity, you let out a content sigh.

“It doesn’t matter what happened today, you deserve it otherwise. To feel happy.” Seungcheol whispers to the crown of your head, in return, catching the faint mix of coconut and a hint of floral from your hair products.

There’s a faint crackle from the speaker far away. Whatever song or playlist Seungcheol has put on might have ended. None of you really paid attention to it though. Time flows perfectly fine to slip into the bubble you both had created. Enough with each other presence.

The perfect mixture of warmth and happiness.

It flows through your vein. Seemingly connected to Seungcheol with every whispers and caresses he gave you. Nobody care that Kkuma has trotted closer and dozed off by the end of the sofa, nor that time has gone past midnight and you fell deeply asleep in Seungcheol’s embrace.

\\

Waking up hungover on a wednesday wasn’t really included in your weekly plan. Yet here you are, a dull ring reverberating throughout your cranial cavity. It certainly doesn’t invite any good memories from college. Not that you’re often passed out drunk on someone else’s sofa often.

Now that you think about it…

Forcing your heavy eyelids to open, you’re cringing from the bursting sunlight that welcomes you. Your free hand immediately flew to cover your face. But to no avail, the heat is worsening your already bad headache. Slowly being aware, you eventually realize the weight in your other hand. Hanging free from the edge of the sofa you laid on.

Nervously turning your head to your side, the sight welcomes you like the morning sun of fall. Such warmth unexpectedly coming through the fallen leaves and chilling breeze. How could it not when you had spotted Seungcheol laying down on the carpeted floor right by the sofa, his one hand tightly holding on to yours as he lay on his side. Curly bangs falling over his eyes, perfectly framing his squished sleeping face.

You thought you were going crazy as you manage to not tear your eyes off of the sight. Pink plump lips slightly ajar as he breathes, and the cheek who carved into a dimple when he smiles has turn into a full curve. Much resembling a bun.

A helpless laugh unknowingly went past your lips. Uncaring of the headache you’re experiencing. Wincing, you took a deep calming breath before continuing to glance at Seungcheol’s sleeping figure. Until a soft pressure applied to your hand quickly steal your attention.

“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

Your eyes immediately widened, a slight blush went up your cheek at the thought of being found out.

Seungcheol pries one of his eyes open, looking up to you despite the glaring sunlight. He continues to play with your intertwined hand as he laughs drily. Seemingly in the same situation of hangover as you.

“I would take a picture, but my hand is occupied.” You laugh lightly, inciting the same response from Seungcheol. “Why are you down there though?”

“Why? Am i too far? Do you miss me already?” Seungcheol mumbles through his signature smirk.

“Well, your sofa is big enough for the two of us. So, my question remains.”

A quick flash of smile from Seungcheol and within second he’s sat up from where he lay. Messy curl nest of hair leaning over you. Close enough until you can spot the places where he had missed during shaving. Deep inside, you're trying to fight how fond you are of him.

“Unfortunately i snore in my sleep. Although yes, i do want to hold you close, i don't want to wake you up with such unpleasantness. So i’d rather sleep down here— which surprisingly is comfy enough, rather than disturbing your sleep. How is it? Does that answer your question yet?”

Biting your lower lip to hold back a smile, Seungcheol rests his head promptly near your arms. Softly mumbling how he's got to give Kkuma her breakfast. And incidentally, your stomach rumbled just after he finished his words. Fixating his gaze back to you, Seungcheol can't help the teasing smrk painted on his face.

“Would you look at that. Now i got two princesses to feed.”

A melodic deep timbre of laughter flowing through the room. You thought of how nice it is to be woken up like this. But for now, you still hid your face under your palm to mask the embarrassment.

\\

The sweater Seungcheol has offered you to change into felt impossibly soft. Added bonus point that it smells like him a little. Taking a warm shower after notifying your boss that you’ll be late, then Seungcheol already stood in his kitchen. Preparing the breakfast he had ordered. In a new set of clothes and a damp hair.

“How's your head? The shower helps right? I got some light porridge for breakfast.”

Even in a white T-shirt and beige pants, Seungcheol looks stunning. You steel yourself to brought up the words you want to say. Almost spending an hour in his bathroom, you had been filling it with some thinking. About last night and your feelings. How the flashing images of the kiss you share sends enough butterfly on your stomach that you had to grip the cold marble counter for it.

So midway through finishing your bowl of porridge and a side of warm tea, you called for Seungcheol's attention. The man by your side immediately raises his head, Kkuma dozing comfortably on his lap. Like a permanent accessory.

“About last night,” Seungcheol has his eyes focused on you, as you're trying to find the right words to say. “I might be drunk and might not be in the right state of mind. But i would be lying if i say that kissing you was a mistake. Because, I think i like you. And i don’t want you to think that the kiss was just, you know. A one time thing. Or worse, a mistake.”

The inside of your stomach would like to vacate its vessel. And it’s not caused by the hangover. The way Seungcheol continues to stare at you is as if you’ve grown a third ear.

For what feels like a decade, Seungcheol broke the silence with a big heave of the breath he’s been unknowingly holding. One hand flew up to cover the big smile that blooms. Bigger than the feeling of relief as if a two ton weight has been lifted from your shoulder.

“You think you like me?” Seungcheol has this teasing tone in his words, you can only bite your lower lip to prevent the big grin that’s fighting to come out. “Well this is awkward because I am quite sure I like you. What are we going to do with this?”

Kkuma whines softly when she's placed down to the chair. Now vacated as Seungcheol already stood and step closer to you. Your eyes trained to Seungcheol’s every move, you tried your best to held back the racing heartbeat. Possibly loud enough for Seungcheol to hear now that he's towering over you. Toned arms caging you to your seat.

His eyes inviting you to recreate your last night’s activity.

“You know I have to go to work right?” You murmured.

“I know. You wouldn’t missed work for anything. That far, i do know.”

A lazy smile blooms on Seungcheol’s face, he raises his hand to caress the hair that has fallen to your face. You shamefully fixated your eyes to his hand—fingers. Knowing that Seungcheol has his own eyes to you.

The event last night truly unlocking a whole new level of push and pull between the two of you. And you don’t know if you’ll survive through it. You might not be strong enough to resist the man in front of you.

With a chuckle, Seungcheol picked up your empty bowl and making his way to the sink. Picking up his along the way. Of course he didn’t forget to flash you a cheeky smile along the way.

You follow his steps, making beeline to the sink and get yourself comfortable leaning on the counter beside Seungcheol. Small little footsteps can be heard following you. Seungcheol laughs when he spotted Kkuma right after you. Muttering how he almost feels jealous.

“You know? Hansol recently talks to me about you.” Seeing the calmness in your stead, Seungcheol continues, “he also tells me about you. Your relationship with him. Even last night he texted me. It seems like he wants to ask me more about you. But he beats around the bush.”

As you sighed with a pout, Seungcheol only shrugged lightly to you. Finishing on the last dishes to rinse.

“I’m not telling this to bother you. I’m only telling you because, well I don’t want to keep secret from you.”

“Even after years, i still don’t know what to feel. About Hansol. He’s like someone far away that doesn’t even know i exist, yet i harbored too many resentments on him. Undeservedly. Sometimes i feel angry, another time it’s jealousy. At other time i felt happy when i saw the picture of his graduation. Imagine my surprise when i saw him on your doorstep. And then him, calling my name.” Seeing the apologetic look on Seungcheol’s eyes, you immediately shot him down. The words died before it went past his lips.

“Hansol, he just came back from the US. He’s been there to help produce an album. For almost two years.”

“Has he lived here long?”

“Well i met him when he’s already in the same studio as i was. That was when i’m on the last years of college. Then we got closer as we signed to the same music company.” You merely nodded at the new knowledge. Adding it to a box named Hansol by the corner of your mind. Completely oblivious to the look Seungcheol is sending you. A fine mixture of fondness and nostalgia.

“That…s great. I guess,” you huffed exasperatedly. Once again lost in your own leaping thought. Reminding you of why swimming deep into your work is your choice to drowned out any conflicting thoughts from your past.

The hand resting on the counter are quickly held by Seungcheol. A form of reassurance you have found both comforting and revving up your heartbeat. Unnecessarily at times.

“I said it last night. And I will say it again. Your feelings are valid. No matter how small you feel. Or confused you are. I am happy to be around and be a constant reminder and help you to feel better about yourself. Because you are. Much better than how much you give yourself credits for. Believe me.”

It took you years to quit your obsession with your half-brother. Validating your mood swings that plagued your young years. Regrets and mistakes in memories of your mother. Long long time to found yourself where you are now. Grounded and for a moment that it's worth, Seungcheol’s word brings you peace. It sets you free.

\\

A new sight welcomes you. In a form of Seungcheol, comfortably clad in a big varsity jacket and as cuddly as he could. He welcomes you when you dragged your feet out from the office.

Among the mass of people trying to get home, you smiled as you feel your steps went lighter as you make your way to him. As if you’re pulled to him.

“Hi there, have any plan for tonight?”

“As a matter of fact, i do. With my soft duvet and blackout shades.”

A pout instantly appeared on Seungcheol’s face upon your reply. A sight you found delightful each time you see it.

“How about i offer you better plan? The night is still young.” On extended hand, Seungcheol smiles to lure you.

It took you no time to take it in yours.

Seungcheol took no time to drag you off into the night. On a sunset car ride. To a place he explained as his workplace. He jokingly warns you not to freak out if you see any celebrities. But your reply only sends Seungcheol further into your charm.

“Don’t worry i don’t pay attention to any celebrities. I only got my eyes on you.”

Seungcheol almost forgot that the two of you are currently on an elevator in his agency building. He could just trap you between the metal wall and kiss you to his heart’s content.

Unfortunately he found a sliver of restraint.

His hand never left yours as you traveled through long white hallway. There are faint rhythmical thumps can be heard on each door you both walk passed. Eventually you arrived at a door, plastered with big decal stickers spelled ‘S.Coups’.

His studio welcomes you, as clean yet as homely as you had imagined. Quite big as to accomodate the recording equipments and a few shelves filled with trinkets. The studio does feel like another home for Seungcheol. Maybe that’s why you felt a sense of the same coziness you felt from his apartment.

Seungcheol invites you to join him on the couch, patting the empty space beside him. You waste no time to abandon your bag to the floor and snuggle close to him. Seungcheol already has his arms around yours. Going through netflix to browse anything interesting to watch on the big widescreen projected across the studio.

“I have a feeling you sometimes spend a night here.” You muttered against the soft wooly materials of Seungcheol’s jacket. The softness reminded you of something you own.

“Night? Try days.” You can feel Seungcheol’s chest rumbled as he chuckles out his answer. He then continues, “speaking of spending days here. I have to warn you just in case. Hansol has been sleeping in his studio for a few days. The pipe in his old apartment suddenly burst. A few days after he came back from US.”

“Is he— alright?”

“Don’t worry, he’s built like a tank. He only needs place to stay while his apartment is getting fixed. That’s why he’s at my house that day.” Seungcheol cupped your chin to turn your face to him. “I just don’t want you to be surprised just in case we bumped into him. Wouldn’t want you to run off from me.”

“When have i—”

Your cheeky smile is quickly wiped when Seungcheol brought your face closer to his and planted a kiss on your lips. Quickly, you reply with the same fervor as your own hand traveled up to his jacket’s lapel and found your anchor there. Seungcheol pulls you closer— bringing you in for another kiss, breathing in your little gasp as Seungcheol easily positioned you to straddle him. Good thing that you have tight hold to him.

You haven’t cared to admit, but the hold he has on you is escalating at an astronomical rate it almosy flungs you up to the stratosphere. It got you fixated on Seungcheol’s every move and admire each flex of his face muscle that forms his dimple.

Ok maybe not only his face muscle.

You took the time to admire his other muscles altogether. Running your hand along his broad shoulder, you didn’t hesitate to bunch the fabric of his T-shirt and give it a tug. Seungcheol is quick to respond with a groan as he chases your lips further. You took a deep breath, willing your body be closer to him, impossibly. Melding your torso as you moved your hands to circle around Seungcheol’s neck when he begins to take off his jacket.

The heat escalade around the two of you.

Until his phone vibrate by the small coffee table. Quiet buzz can be heard behind you.

“Seungcheol, you have a call.” You whispered slowly, lips barely leaving each other. The man in front of you huffed with a smirk. His hold never falters, growing warmer with every second.

“I am aware of that.” Seungcheol replies, hurried words as he still chasing your lips. Equally whispering, his deep voice hums across your lips.

“What if it’s something important?”

“More than this?”

Sometimes, you hate being levelheaded.

You obviously dislike pulling away from Seungcheol’s lips. The sentiment mirrored by Seungcheol. Swiftly reaching out behind your back to his phone, the device still buzzing in your grip as you handed it to Seungcheol.

When the man under you groans, you begin to regret your decision. You hate it more that Seungcheol is too observant of your reaction. You shamefully biting your lower lip, staring intently as Seungcheol eventually accepts the call on his phone. His gaze boring to yours, his hand freely roamed the small of your back.

You have to admit that none of the conversation registered to your ears. So when Seungcheol ended his calls and readjust his hold to you, who still conveniently straddling his lap, you instinctively loop your arm around his neck.

“I have to meet the CEO now.” When your eyes rounded in surprise. Eventually discerning his words, Seungcheol only chuckles before pecking your lips. “I hope you’re happy. For making me take that call.”

“Wait, do you actually have to go?”

“Don’t miss me too much dear. I’ll try to be quick.”

Seungcheol leaves you no time to register the term of endearment he just addressed you with. It took you with the same surprise as he maneuvers easily to flip you around. Your yelp followed by the thud as you landed on your back against the sofa. Seungcheol still grinning devilishly. He leaves you with a quick peck and letting you know to his mini fridge in case you feel like snacking.

When the door clicking close, you slumped into the sofa. Feeling childish at the amount of regret you developed for letting Seungcheol take that call. Quickly brushing away the thought, you rose from the sofa and decided to take a closer look around the studio.

The big shelf stood on one side of the wall are full of little trinkets that’s best described as a look inside Seungcheol’s life. Picture frames, old baseball, and many signed memorabilia from possibly the biggest star that you could have imagined. Yet you’re oblivious to them.

It brought a smile to your face when you can spot Seungcheol smiling in almost all of the picture you see. With Kkuma, his friends, family, and much more of him in a new light that you’ve never seen before. One picture caught your attention, Seungcheol are clad in the same varsity jacket, arm slung to what seems to look like a younger Hansol, with longer tuft of messy brown hair and braces. There’s two other people in the picture but your eyes fixated on the two.

Just how long they’ve been known each other? If you had continued your attention towards Hansol, would you have known about Seungcheol back then?

The sound of the studio door unlocking caught your attention.

You were ecstatic to welcomes Seungcheol back but the door opens to another person.

“Seungcheol hyung, can i have some of—”

In retrospect, it’s a good thing that Seungcheol actually warned you earlier. Because right now, Hansol stood right there, just a mere meters before you. Without looking in the mirror you’re convinced that the look in both of your face are the same. Like a fish gasping for air.

Eventually Hansol snapped out of his stupor, shaking his head before averting his eyes. With both of his hands clenched, Hansol about to pivoted on his feet and hurried to make his way out of the studio. But not before you called out to him. Your mouth ran faster before you could pull the brake. But no use crying over spilled milk.

“I— i’m sorry if i make you uncomfortable that day. I heard that you were crashing at Seungcheol’s place and well— i just feel like i need to say sorry to you.” Throughout your words, Hansol went visibly rigid. A frown has settled in his face as time goes by, but you continue on to voice your words. “Also, i hope your sister are okay that day. She was wandering around and i—”

“Please— stop,” Hansol voice is small. Almost sound so choked up it surprises even himself. “Please just, stop. Please.”

When you took an instinctive step towards Hansol, the man staggers backward before eventually leaves the room in such hurries. You could never forgot the face he made as he left. It burns the same as the memories of your young. But unlike the smiles that you followed.

After Hansol left, you feel like you could count the seconds but at the same time, your mind couldn’t tear itself off of the image of Hansol. Leaving you with such pain visible in his frame. Eventually you were so lost in your thought that you didn’t even hear Seungcheol returning to the studio in grins.

Instantly the sight brought a small smile to your face. Seungcheol doesn’t waste any time to cuddle you on the sofa. Getting himself comfortable as he lay snug in your arms. You can’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you do the same. Shifting in your seat to accommodate Seungcheol’s big frame to fit your hold. It doesn’t surprise you that he enjoys being a little spoon.

The frequent appearance of pout on his lips are one of the sign.

“What were you doing while i was gone?” Seungcheol starts, his fingers are making quick to the remote. Still in a mission to search a movie to watch on netflix.

“Hmm, not much. Hansol came here.” To this, Seungcheol immediately straighten up from your hold. A pair of confused and widened eyes scanning your face for answer. You smiles at his reaction. “He left almost immediately though. Not before looking like he’s somewhat in pain.”

Seungcheol hands quickly cups your head and hugs you close. Leaning into his touch felt like the most natural thing to do. Letting the warmth envelope you whole while at the same time calming your thought and lifted up your mood.

“Do you need me to talk to him?” Seungcheol voiced out, instantly you shook your head.

“No. I will talk to him myself if there’s a problem. I’m just more worried and confused. We just met and Hansol looks at me like that.”

Sensing your somewhat unsettled mood, Seungcheol determined to make you feel better. He flashes a grin to your questioning gaze as he suddenly vacate his spot. Opening the hidden drawer under his big desk, Seungcheol came back to your side with abundant of snacks in his hold.

A familiar sight of your favourite coffee bun immediately caught your attention. Eyes widening in surprise upon the sight of the rare treats.

“How did you have these! I love this.” You exclaimed. Seungcheol beside you are busy opening what looks to be a melon bread and a few more spread of pastries on to the table.

“Oh, now i know what to watch.” Seungcheol exclaimed, grinning at the sight of you munching lightly on your indulgent treat. “Nanny McPhee, how about that?”

“Now are you spoiling me? Favourite treat and then movie?”

“I know. Aren’t i just the best, huh?” You tried to maintain a straight face as Seungcheol playfully winks at you. Yet you can’t help to reply back by frowning at him.

As the movie starts you can feel yourself getting calmer. Your previously distraught mind is now filled with warmth and playful smile from Seungcheol. While the man has his eyes forward, you carefully scan him. A wisp of smile on your face to the sight you have familiarize enough in your heart. Each time Seungcheol has managed to surprise you with encouraging words to validate your feelings, as well as every little acts that sets your heartbeat faster.

“You know, i noticed that we used to go to the same college. I saw your old photo with varsity jacket. The same one you wore today. I just realized that.” You pointed out, eyes focusing as the opening narration begins to fade with whimsical music. “I might not be an avid almamater, but I have a varsity scarf myself. I love them.”

Wordlessly, Seungcheol took you to his arms. Another attempt to cuddle comfortably and let the familiar movie lulls the both of you deeper into the house full of children wrecking havoc. He’s heard you mentioned this movie a few times. At first denying that it was your favourite comfort movie. But as times passed and Seungcheol pointed out you begin to admit so. With a sheepish grin and endless teasing in that afternoon.

With his eyes forward as he tries to immerse himself with the colourful old english countryside, Seungcheol’s thought remain on your words. His memories flow like the quiet river. He decided that to let it remain untouched.

“Well i used to go there, but i never graduated sadly. I think i enjoyed too many free time that i have, going in and out the studio as i like and getting rewarded for things i used to do just for my hobby.” Seungcheol’s admittance is followed by a wisp of smile, somehow you can feel it entirety on your mind.

“But don’t you love it now?” Seungcheol fears you can feel the thump in his heart so he stutters out a laugh. Looking up to him, you smiles before kissing him softly. Humming along the now softer thrum in his vein as he capture your lips in reply.

“I’ve grown to,” Seungcheol only pulls back enough far enough. Half lidded as he kept his lips hovering above yours. “All the culmination of it, is what makes me here now. With you.”

\\

prev chapter || next chapter

[mirainwonderland]

Summary: you have an anxiety attack and he comforts you

Content: depictions of anxiety and panic, comfort, fluff, established relationship. Brief mentions of blood but nothing graphic

A/N / Disclaimer: I lowkey hate this 🥲 but if you struggle sometimes like I do, here’s how I think Leon would help you (I think he knows what he’s doing because he’s been through them too 🥺). Little disclaimer that everyone is probably different and I just wrote based on the anxiety experiences I have. Sending love and hugs to anyone who deals with anxiety everything’s gonna be ok <3 muah k luv you bye

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Longest day of your life. You’re more exhausted than a mother of five in a coffee shortage. Yet here you are, lying awake, stiff as a board in your bed, staring at the ceiling. A car goes by on the street outside, the light filtering in through the blinds and casting shadowed stripes across the walls and ceiling. You swear you can hear the ticking of the clock in the kitchen from here, and you let out a puff of air through pursed lips.

It’s driving you insane.

How many hours past midnight have you counted again? Oh right, 20 minutes. You feel like you’ve been lying here for eons, counting the even breathes beside you. You’re a little jealous watching Leon sleep peacefully beside you. Usually this is a him problem, and not yours. Not even the consistent, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest has calmed you. Usually his presence made you relax, and from there you’d grow sleepy.

But not tonight for god knows what reason.

You really do know, though. The day you’ve had keeps replaying over and over in your mind. Everything seemed to go wrong, your anxiety was horrible, and to add insult to injury you’re pretty sure your period is coming in a couple of days.

The joys of womanhood. Isn’t it fun?

You blow another breath through your mouth. All jokes aside, you feel like you’ve been doing worse lately. And the worst part about that is that you feel like you haven’t been able to tell Leon about it. You don’t really know why. It feels kind of humiliating to admit you’re not doing good, and you can’t figure out how to even broach the subject in the first place.

So you stay quiet, suffering alone in your silence like a devoted martyr to your anxiety. You wonder how holy you’d be by now if constant internal panic was measured in penance of some sort.

Leon hates it when you do that. He’s told you so many times to just come talk to him. And even though you want to, you can’t seem to break down your wall of pride and let him in. Even though the little girl in you is screaming for someone to hold her when the room goes dark, you still can’t bring yourself to tug on his sleeve and ask for help. You feel like a pick me begging for attention.

You sigh and sit up. You can’t stand your thought process anymore as it drifts to this uncomfortable territory, and you throw back the covers to go get a drink of water. It’s your own greatest enemy, your mind. And the worst part is, you can only run from it for so long. Because no matter how much you bottle things in, it will catch up with you sooner than you think.

You flip on the soft oven light for a little guidance, but not enough to chase away any traces of sleepiness that might be lingering as you fill a glass with cold water from the sink. Your head kind of hurts as you turn to rest against the counter and take a sip of water. Your chest tightens as soon as the water hits your stomach and you don’t really feel good.

You try to brush it off at first as low blood sugar or something. But it doesn’t go away, and becomes a little more insistent, and suddenly your chest aches.

Shit.

Your hands start to shake as that familiar feeling creeps back in to compress on your ribs. It’s a sick feeling, like you’ve eaten too much cake or like you’re really thirsty but no amount of water can help. As it gets worse, you feel like you can’t breathe. You hadn’t had an episode in a while, but all that stuffing your feelings nonsense got to you. Not healthy.

You go to set the glass down on the counter, but you don’t quite clear the edge and it knocks the water out of your hands. The loud noise of it shattering on the tile irritates you more, and your shoulders jolt. Every nerve feels on needle-point edge, the sudden overstimulation making your head feel like it’s gonna explode.

You press a hand against your chest, breathing having grown rapid as your vision blurs around the edges.

“Hey.” You don’t even see or hear him until Leon has your shoulders and speaks right in front of your face. Your shoulders jerk again when he grabs you, and your hands fly out to grab at something. They find his arms.

“I-I… I can’t breathe…!” You tremble, your head growing light and tingly from the shallow panting.

“I know… I know, easy.” Avoiding the broken glass, Leon lifts you effortlessly onto the counter. He’s calm, his voice deep and even and a little rough from sleep.

“I-… I can’t—“

“Don’t think about it.” His voice an anchor somewhere in the haze of reality you’re struggling to get back to. “Take a breath.”

You try. Your lungs are shaking. It hitches, and you almost feel worse. He takes your hand and lays your palm flat agains his chest.

“Like this.” He sucks in a deep demonstrative breath through his nose, out through his mouth, making sure you can feel the way his chest rises and falls with the motion. “You know how, baby.”

“I-I can’t!”

“You can. Do it with me, c’mon.”

You focus your energy and your frayed concentration on the way his chest feels under your hand, the way the warmth creeps up your arm. On the way his breath sounds and feels. On the way the air feels spilling into your own lungs.

Gradually you regain control.

Leon tilts his head, trying to get a look at your face in the dimness of the stove light.

“‘Okay?” He murmurs, and you nod, letting your eyes crack open and your head fall back forward to look at him. You’re suddenly aware that your feet hurt and feel kinda sticky.

“C’mon.” He reaches for you, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you carefully out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom.

The light blinds you when he turns it on, and you squint and blink as he sets you on the counter, and your feet in the sink. The amount of blood on your feet scares and sickens you, but Leon lays a warm, gentle hand on the back of your head as he sets the first aid kit next to you.

“It’s okay. Don’t look.”

He makes sure there’s no shards of glass in your skin, he cleans the cuts gently and disinfects them. You watch quietly as he bandages them up, wrapping up the balls of one of your feet.

The silence is a little unsettling. Is he mad? Obviously he’s probably not too mad about the glass. He’d probably say it’s replaceable. But now he kinda knows there was something bothering you, and you clearly didn’t talk to him about it before it got bad.

“Sooo… what no lecture?” You finally blurt as he ties off the gauze. He glances up at you as he lowers your foot from the counter.

“For what?” You watch as he washes his hands in the sink and puts the first aid kit away.

“You know… for not… talking to you sooner, I guess.”

He gathers you into his arms again and you wrap yours around his neck as he flips off the light and carries you back to bed. He kisses your temple on the way back down the hall, watching as your eyelids droop sleepily when you don’t sense any tension in his body.

“Maybe tomorrow morning.”

He carries you back to bed and tucks you in. Laying down beside you, he holds his arm out for you to come a little closer and curl up under it. You scooch.

He rests his hand on the back of your head, his thumb brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I will say this though…” He murmurs deeply as you look up at him from your little spot in the sanctuary of his arms. “You know you can come to me, you know you’re not a burden and I like being there for you.”

He smoothes his thumb over your hair.

“I love you… k?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay.” You reply in a little voice. You know he’s right. You know he means what he says. Leon’s not the type to waste words on sentiments he doesn’t mean. And hearing it again makes you feel a little silly for overthinking it.

“Okay.” Another kiss. “Get some sleep, yeah?”

This time, you’re out like a light.

[fakevariety]

today has beennnnn hmmmmmmmm

[theorist-fox]

Some more insecure Simon Riley talk, because he's precious.

18+

Word count: 1.4k

CW: nothing, just smut. Simon finds you in lingerie and has a stroke. I love him your honor.

Masterlist 🦊

Simon, who is not sure what to do with himself the first time you welcome him home in nothing but lingerie.

He’s so unbelievably tired, dropping his clothes on the floor of the bedroom without even lifting his head. Mumbling apologies to you—how he’ll clean tomorrow, how he just wants to go to bed and sleep fourteen hours straight, right now. Bonus points if you hold him through the night, too.

Yet you’re not replying, but he’s seen your silhouette in the darkness; he knows you’re awake because you whispered a soft “Welcome back” when he walked in the room. His heart pounds in his chest, his palms get clammy—he thinks he’s overstepping lines by not giving you the attention he thinks you deserve.

So, as he unzips his pants, he lifts his eyes to look at you, and fuck—

You’re lying on your side, propped on your elbow, chin tucked in your palm. Perfect tits covered in sheer fabric, burgundy and black, your nipples peeking through. The soft line of your waist is bare—he follows it with his eyes until they land on your hips. Ornated lace curves around your hipbone and thins into see-through, dark fabric over your mound. Two strips of silk clasp your knickers to a pair of thin stockings that cinch the fat of your thighs, and the sight makes his mouth water.

“Welcome back,” you say once again, this time with soft amusement.

He looks like a proper idiot. Hand still on his crotch, practically feeling how his cock comes to a stand at the mere sight of you.

He gulps. Feels a little lightheaded. “F’ me?”

You smile, chuckling softly but not derisively. Simon follows your hand as you guide it over your belly, up to the valley of your breast, as if you’re there, showing the goods he can pick and taste.

“For you.”

Simon is stunned into silence again.

Fuck is he supposed to do, uh? He’d be content just looking at you lying there and looking like you came out of a magazine, instead of touching you and potentially ruining what you did just for—for him?

He must not have noticed how his whole body (aside from his cock) has gone into standby—entered sniper mode. He's quiet, breaths reduced and silent, eyes attentive and narrowed.

It's a handful of seconds that leave you uncomfortable, as your plastic pose softens, your smile faltering at the corners.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, trying to sound steady, but he picks up the nervousness in your tone right away.

He won’t let you have it, obviously. He snaps out of it and takes you in for what you are: a fucking present, on his bed, wrapped in strings and bows and lace like gift wrap.

“Shoulda guessed it was too much, maybe. Should’ve gone for somethin’ soft—"

Simon is on you in seconds. Grabs your face in his hands and smashes his lips to yours something fierce, nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. No hesitation. Simple, tangible desire. Scorching lust. Want. Need—fuck, he’s never kissed you like this.

Your eyes lose their surprise, and they slowly surrender to him—hands wandering down to help him out of his pants and briefs. And then you wrap your arms around his neck, grazing his scalp with your nails until he shivers.

Simon thought there was nothing comparable to the softness of your skin against the harder patches of scars freckling his abdomen. But he’s proved wrong when he feels the rough texture of your lace scratch his chest and his hips—it has him leaking embarrassingly quick.

He’s all lips and tongue as he races down your chest, sloppy kisses leaving a burning trail between your tits, down your belly, settling on your cunt covered by thin mesh.

Simon looks up at you, holding your thighs between thick fingers, smushing them against his cheeks. His eyes are hooded, dark, different. He tilts his head and bites into the plump flesh within reach—not enough to hurt, but sure enough to taste. Mercifully passes his tongue over the teeth marks before biting into it again, until the sting has you arching your back off the bed.

And he never breaks eye contact, which leaves you dumbfounded and flustered to the bone—because where is this confidence coming from? You’re wide-eyed and biting your own teeth in anticipation—this is all new and all the more exciting.

His kisses travel from the lines of your stretch marks up to your sex, where he doesn’t even bother moving the gusset of your knickers, and he just dives in.

Tongue flat against your cunt, drenching the sheer fabric with his spit and your moisture. Your moans are so soft compared to the sloppy mess he’s making of you down there, his insecurity blessed by a sort of beginner’s luck. Or maybe he’s just that hungry, and that is enough for your cunt flutter around nothing anyway.

You’re speechless when he finally lifts himself up, slotting his hips between your kiss-bitten thighs. His cock lands heavy on your pelvis, painting your lower belly with speckles of sheer precum. Head swollen and red right above your belly button.

You look at him wide-eyed, on your back, stock-still—anticipating his next move with your heart rate spiking.

He takes you completely by surprise (once again? In one night? Who is this man?), when he moves your knickers to the side, and instead of plunging in, he slides his cock between your folds and snaps the lace back above it. And then he starts rutting in shameless abandon, holding you steady by your thighs, letting the sheer fabric of your panties cover his tip and half of his shaft, as he runs himself back and forth over the surface of your pussy.

“M’gonna ruin it, sorry.” He croaks, as one of his hands comes to clumsily grab your tits through the lace. “So fuckin’ pretty—fuck—bloody hell, you—”

You coax him to go on with breathless moans because he’s never looked more breathtaking than he does now. Tiny drops of sweat drip from his forehead onto your belly, cheeks flushed and long lashes fanning his cheekbones. His lips yield a grunt each time the lace scratches his shaft. Your breath hitches each time the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Gonna buy ya a new one, yeah?” He grunts, looking down at the wet patch his cock is making through the lace. “Gonna buy ya fuckin’ ten.”

He’s never been this vocal, and you don’t dare to mouth a whisper in case he catches himself in the act. Not even when you cum, a short and stinging orgasm that makes your clit burn at the friction, do you dare to moan. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, neck corded in the strain to keep it in, flushing with warmth in unbearable silence.

You think you hear his voice crack through the cotton in your ears when you come back down from your high. “Fuck—God, fuck. Wha’ a gift, eh? F’ me. All f’me.”

He pulls back a few moments later, taking his cock out of your panties and into a thick hand. A few pumps, and he cums on your lace, painting your belly and your cunt in glistening white.

He’s panting as his hand languidly comes to a halt. Chest flushed and with a thin layer of sweat over it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, clearly dizzy—as if he needs to apologize for this. “I ruined it. I—just—gonna go grab somethin’ to—to clean y'up, wait 'ere—Jesus Christ.”

He slowly comes to stand, knees popping and legs shaking as he stumbles to the bathroom.

You look down at the spurts of cum covering your stomach and staining the lace of your panties, and then you flop your head back onto the mattress, wide eyes locked to the ceiling.

A chuckle of disbelief escapes you, still in shock from the sudden switch in behavior. And you think, when he comes back with a towel to clean the mess he’s made on your skin, that you might have to take another trip to the shop this weekend—buy yourself a new little piece.

But later, then, he falls asleep with his head on your chest, fingers lazily toying with the lace of your bra (because he’s asked you to keep it on, you know—“Like how 't feels”), and so you move up your shopping a little—already on your phone, running your thumb to skim through pinks and blues, laces and silks.

You might just order a new one right now.

It’s at that moment that he shifts in his sleep, slipping his hand under the band of your lacy bra and curling his fingers around your breast.

You change your mind.

You might just order ten.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ no one has to know what we do ]❜

ft. cho sang-woo x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you lay in bed with your dad’s best friend after a night of passion┊1.3k words

contains: slight smut!! dom sang-woo & sub reader┊age gap (reader is early 20s & sang-woo’s early 40s), (adopted) dad’s best friend trope, purposeful seduction, one-night stands, unprotected piv (don’t do anything the reader does, this is fiction & unrealistic, stay safe), creampie, biting, smoking, 

➤ author's note: i was thinking about this man all night, i’m not kidding, i’m doing it again tongiht too because he’s so fine idc if he’s evil, i wanna fuck him not fix him

it’s nearly four in the morning on another cold winter’s night with nothing but a yellow-tinted bedside lamp illuminating the room, completely silent aside from the rustling of the blanket from your movement. you sigh softly and nestle closer to the man lying flat on his back for more of the addicting warmth radiating off his body, your face nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder and your legs entangling with his. he doesn’t pull away like you expected him to, just takes another drag on his cigarette and ignores you for the most part with the weight of the past few hours— the weight of the sins he committed tonight— pressing into his mind.

you, on the other hand, were all soft smiles and feeling content as if you just crossed off an accomplishment on the top of your bucket list. for a situation that could ruin both of your lives if discovered, it certainly feels blissful and freeing to finally fuck the man you’ve been dreaming about almost religiously ever since you came back home from university for the holidays a week ago. you have no idea how you’ve never met him until now when you’ve heard so much about him, but perhaps it was better that way when your thoughts were less than innocent. 

despite being middle-aged, he was still very handsome with intelligent albeit weary eyes which seemed to hide some sort of darkness to them. you found yourself studying him from afar, noticing him not wearing a wedding ring and making no mention of a family other than his mother, so you quickly made up your mind that you were going to fuck him before going back to school. it’s not like you had anything better to do anyway.

it actually didn’t take much to seduce him surprisingly: accidental eye contact filled with longing, lingering touches when you handed him his chilled cheap beer, careful actions and words to play up your sex appeal— it reminded you that most men are the same even if the stoic cho sang-woo was older and prided himself in his cunning mind, starved for affection with wandering eyes that frequently followed beneath the hem of your skirt. he looked at you behind his glasses with distrust and tried to act indifferent towards you in front of gi-hun, probably already suspicious about your intentions, but you could already see him drinking up your appearance in your cute little outfit as he downed another bottle. this little game was one you knew well and you always won in the end, there has yet to be anyone you wanted who couldn’t resist you and he certainly wasn’t going to be the first.

he stayed the night in the guest bedroom because it was already dark out, your former room which was converted after you moved out (sometimes it was rented out for extra cash), and at the strike of midnight, you knocked on the door and presented yourself to him seeking his comfort for an unspecified reason with slightly teary doe eyes. it was clear that you didn’t disturb him from his slumber and that he was already awake, visibly restless, and maybe even stressed. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was bothering him so much. he was hesitant to let you in at first, as any good man would, but his resolve crumbled after seeing how beautiful you looked in the dim light (not like it wasn’t already a breeze away from collapsing after the alcohol). it’s surprising what a little silk nightgown can do with the thin straps threatening to slip off your shoulders, the short hem revealing your soft thighs, your perk nipples straining through the thin fabric, and how small and vulnerable you looked shivering in your lack of clothes.

“you shouldn’t be here at this time.”

“are you going to turn me away?”

still, even if it all went according to plan, he’s not in love with you. you don’t think he is anyway. you don’t expect him to be. would you like him to be in love with you? it might put the aching loneliness at ease even if it won’t make it disappear entirely. he’s a man old enough to be your father after all, he’s a man who grew up with your father and considered him to be a close friend. is this how you thank your father for taking you in and sharing what little he had with you? by seducing and sleeping with his best friend? 

in all honestly, though, he certainly fucked like he was in love with you— like you two were the last two souls on this earth. he was a lot more pent up than you anticipated, or a lot more lonely, trusting into you so deeply one would think he was trying to reach your empty heart as you clawed at his back leaving red rivers of scratched skin. you barely even needed any prep for his size with how soaked you were, evident with a wet patch on your underwear which he teased before throwing it to be forgotten on the floor along with all your other clothes. 

it was difficult to keep the sinful sounds of sex to a minimum, skin against skin with moans slipping from your mouth and groans from his. he had to resort to covering your mouth with his large palm to shut you up and bit into your collarbone leaving his mark on you, finally finishing inside of you in his haze before using his fingers to help you reach your orgasm and embarrassing you for once by staring intently at how the mix of your arousals dripped all over his hand.

“when are you leaving for university?”

“why, are you going to miss me when i’m gone?”

“we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“no one has to know what we do,” you giggled, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth and inhaling the smoke. “i’m old enough to keep a secret.”

those last words made him pause for a second. this was immoral and forbidden. if seong gi-hun were ever to find out, their relationship would be ruined forever and you would be disowned, and he could only imagine the look of betrayal on his face. yet you didn’t seem to care in the least bit about what he would think, gingerly rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of him leaking out of you and touching the area where he bit you. it drew his attention, finally turning to you and admiring the mark sunken into your skin, looking almost proud of it like art on a clean canvas. 

“i don’t want you sleeping with some other stupid boys when you go back.”

“hm, only if you promise that this won’t be the last time and that you also don’t fuck anyone else while i’m gone.”

“you know, i can’t promise that. we were lucky to not get caught this time, but who’s to say there will be a next time?”

“well, then i’ll go back to university and have sex with whoever i want, then you can do the same—”

“oh, shut up,” he scolded, pinching your cheeks to pull you towards him and kissing you possessively as if he could consume you whole by it. you were glad to reciprocate, allowing him to climb back on top of you while your arms wrapped around his neck. “fine, as long as you keep your word.”

he said it like he didn’t really want to continue this, like he was conceding to your demands and was merely tolerating you with better things to do, but the thinly veiled desperate need in his words and actions was clearer than glass to you. not that you minded, it was all working out just how you wanted it to.

[sun-kissy]

balm | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x reader — ★ — wc 1k

summary: bucky finds out that you got a (minor) bruise and didn’t tell him about it

tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of accident and bruise, reader gets a little guilty, bucky gets a little upset

“Hey,” you feel Bucky’s hands on your hips, the soft touch of his lips to your cheek. “Hey, doll. Did you get lovelier over the weekend?”

You try to ignore the stinging sensation where his hand rests against your waist. You turn around to face him, abandoning your task of chopping the vegetables.

“Bucky,” you smile softly, arms going around his neck. He grins and kisses you again. “Hi. I missed you.”

“So did I, pretty girl,” he murmurs, thumbing at the skin underneath the edge of your shirt. He’s gentle as always, but the pain is almost unbearable. You try not to squirm. “There were so many times I almost called. But of course, Sam wouldn’t let me. You know, strictly classified location and all that.”

Bucky had gone on a mission over the weekend, and had just gotten back a couple hours ago. You let yourself into his apartment as soon as you got a text from him.

He’d mentioned craving pasta, so you started making some. The only thing you were trying to think about right now was making him feel loved after what must have been an exhausting few days.

You hum understandingly, turning back towards the kitchen platform and picking up the knife. Your shoulders almost sag with relief when Bucky lets go of your hips and stands beside you.

He eases the knife out of your hands, ignoring your protests. “Seriously, doll, it’s okay. I can do this. Why don’t you get started on the pasta?”

“Fine,” you sigh, moving to make way for your boyfriend to use the chopping board.

Bucky chuckles at your stubbornness. He glances over as you stand on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard above the stove.

One moment, you’re rummaging through the shelf to find pasta, and the next, you feel his strong hands curving around your stomach and pulling you back down.

“Bucky —“

“What —“ Bucky interrupts, spinning you around. His hands find your shirt. “— is that?” He lifts it up, lightly brushing his fingertips over the dark purple lying just above your waistline. You try not to flinch. He notices, his frown deepening.

“It’s a… um… a bruise.”

“I know it’s a bruise, doll,” Bucky sighs. He crouches to get a better look at it, and you feel your muscles tensing up. From the stress or the pain, you’re not sure. “I mean, how did you — when did you get this? How did this happen?”

You swallow. His concern makes your heart squeeze in awful ways. “I, um… I got it today.”

“Today?” his gaze flicks up to yours worriedly as he stands up straight. “How?”

“Well, so you see,” you suck in a breath, “there was this other car which crashed into mine from behind —“

“What?!”

“No! Wait,” you grab his hands desperately, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s not as bad as you think it is, really. Just let me finish.”

You could’ve sworn he was glaring at you, but he kept his mouth shut.

“So, nothing major happened —“ you gulp at his deadpan look, “— really! I just got jerked a litte from the impact, and the steering wheel hit me.”

“This hard?”

You confirm it with a nod.

Bucky exhales, fingers finding the rough patch again as he slips his fingers under your shirt. He presses it gently. You wince. “Did you at least get it cleaned up?”

The guilty expression on your face tells him enough. But you still confirm it with a feeble, “no.”

His eyebrows bunch together. “That can’t be good,” he mutters to himself, tugging on the waistband of your shorts to get a better look. “Can you please come to the toilet with me? I think we should disinfect it.”

You’re too overwhelmed with shame to do anything but agree. You let Bucky pull you to the washroom, manoeuvre you with his kind hands to sit on the closed toilet seat. He sits below, first aid kit in his lap.

You know he’s upset, even if he doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t show in the gentle way he wipes a washcloth over the area; the way he rests his chin on your knee as he works.

But it does show when he starts to apply the antiseptic cream. You hiss between clenched teeth, and he seems to have been reminded of the fact that you’re in pain, that you were in pain and you didn’t bother telling him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You don’t reply, opting instead to bite down on your lip. Bucky is quick to reach for your face, gently pulling it free from your assail.

He asks again, softer, like he wasn’t kind enough the first time. It makes you feel like a bitch.

“You just got back, you know,” you mumble. “You’re probably exhausted, and — and sick of me, and…”

“Sick of you?” he interrupts quietly, something akin to confusion on his features. He sounds hurt. “I could never be sick of you, doll. And… and I missed you. You know I missed you.”

Once again, you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t need you to.

“Listen,” he murmurs, tugging your shirt back down, “It’s my job to worry about you, okay? I don’t want you worrying about me worrying about you. Because I want to.”

“Are you sure —“

“I’m sure, lovely girl,” he says, getting up on his knees to kiss you. You bend forwards, feeling his affection soothe over you like a balm.

Bucky pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “Promise not to hide things like these from me again, okay? I want to care about you.”

“You want to care about me.”

“I do,” he murmurs, smiling slightly at the awe in your tone. “I do, doll. I love you.” He presses a kiss to your nose. “I love you.”

Bucky revels in the beauty of your smile when you say it back, the first real one he got from you all evening. He was glad to be home.

[peachessndreamss]

Weirwood Tree

Summery : While in labour with their second child, Cregan and his wife take s short walk to the Weirwood tree to help get things moving.

Characters : Cregan Stark x f!wife reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings : Pregnancy and childbirth (nothing explicit)

Word count : 3k

A/N : Turns out you never shake being a Stark girl, Ily Cregan so much.

“I’m sorry t’say it, my lady, but your labours have slowed up,” the midwife said softly as she drew the sheets back over Lady Starks bent knees before dipping her hands in a bowl of water. 

“Slowed up?” Lady Stark repeated incredulously, dropping her head back on the feather pillow, “but it's been hours already,” she added, tears burning her eyes. 

The second child of Lord Cregan stark and his lady wife was in no rush to make their way into the world. Despite the frequency and strength of her earlier pains once the midwife and maester had been sent for, everything seemed to have come to an uncomfortable halt.  

The midwife had brought her ancient grandmother along with her, known through Winterfell and the winter town as Auld Joan, she had been a midwife in her own time and had delivered Cregan's father and uncle. She was mostly blind and deaf now but still attended births but spent most of the time sitting as close to a heat source as possible and dispensing wisdom if necessary. She was currently sitting in a chair next to the roaring fire, her ancient hands clasped on her lap, knuckles bulging out of shape and fingers curled like claws. 

“I know it's been a while,” the midwife said soothingly, placing a warm hand on Lady Stark's knee, “but sometimes it's just like this,”. 

“The last one wasn't like this,” Lady Stark grumbled, her mood darkening as she tried to shift around into a more comfortable position. 

“You mustn't compare one with another,” the midwife soothed before touching a cold cloth to the lady's forehead. 

“A walk will geyit moving ,” the old woman wheezed from her seat by the fire, “no’ this lying about,”. 

The maester, who had been mostly disinterested in proceedings up until this point shot the old woman a dark look, he was standing in the far corner of the room, a leather case of vicious metal tools clutched jealously to his chest. His grey robes matched his grey and sickly looking skin. He wasn't particularly interested in births or deaths or the everyday ailments of life and resented being summoned to the birthing room of any woman. 

“This position is agreed upon as being the correct way for labouring mothers,” he said coldly in a clipped southern accent. 

“Agreed by men who know nothing about it,” the crone grumbled. 

“What does she mean?” Lady Stark asked the midwife who was now gently feeling the swell of the lady's belly. 

“Baby's not quite in righ’ place, that's why things have slowed,” she explained as she pressed on the left side of the belly, Lady Stark winced, “but grandmother thinks a little walk might get things moving again,”. 

The midwife glanced over at her grandmother who had closed her eyes and was now looking peaceful in the flickering light of the fire, she looked back at her lady and dabbed the cloth over her cheeks before putting it back beside the bowl of cold water. 

“What do you think?”Lady Stark asked. 

She shrugged, making a point not to look towards the maester before replying. 

“It helped me with mine, and it wouldn't do you any harm,”. 

The maester opened his mouth to disagree and lady stark held up her hand to silence him. 

“Just walking through the keep, out into the godswood for the fresh air should do it,” the midwife continued. 

The lady nodded and lifted herself up onto her elbows, she addressed the maester, privately enjoying ordering the sour faced man about. 

“Lord Cregan is outside the door, fetch him in,” she said. 

Cregan Stark had paced the halls outside of his wife's rooms since he'd been asked to leave them several hours before. While he wasn't accustomed to being removed from parts of his own castle he respected that father's, even lords, were not expected to be present at the births of their children,so he was surprised to hear the door opening when he was fairly certain nothing much had happened yet. 

“My Lord?” The voice of the maester echoed off the walls as the lord strode into view, “your wife would like to see you,”. 

He nodded, his face stern as he stepped past the man and into the warm, dark room. 

“Seven Hells,” he murmured as he pulled at the collar of his shirt, instantly feeling the heat of the room rolling over him like a wave, sweat breaking out on his forehead and upper lip. 

As he looked around the room he was surprised to see the midwife helping his wife into her fur boots, a long, heavy cloak already covering her shoulders. 

“Going somewhere?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

She turned her flushed face to him and smiled. 

“Yes, we're going for a walk,”. 

Cregan’s brows rose but he nodded without further comment, knowing better than to ask questions.  He watched nervously as the midwife helped his wife to her feet, ready to spring forward at any moment if it looked like Lady Stark might lose her balance. 

Once he was happy she was safely on her feet, Cregan stepped towards them, offering his arm to his wife, who took a small step and linked her arm through his. 

“Twice around the godswood’ll do it,” Auld Joan spoke from the chair, she opened one ancient eye that could just be seen through the folds of skin that made up her face. 

“Or as far as you need’t,” the midwife added, her eyes flicking towards the maester. 

From the darkest corner of the room the maester muttered under his breath “foolishness” but no one else could hear him or pay him a moment's more attention. 

As the Lord and Lady of Winterfell stepped out of the stifling room and into the cooler corridor of the keep they both gave a sigh of relief. As they walked they instinctively drew closer to one another. Finding comfort and strength in each other's presence. 

“This is an unexpected pleasure,” Cregan said as they stepped through the door of the keep and into the much colder air of the inner bailey. The ground was a mess of mud, straw, snow and grey brown slush that cracked and crunched under their boots. 

“Yes,” she agreed, her hand tightening on his arm as her foot slipped a little on a patch of hidden ice, “Auld Joan felt this would be the best way to get things moving again,”. 

Cregan nodded, “She's seen a fair few babes born in her time, she knows what she's talking about,” he paused and took a deep breath of cold air, “I think she might have even delivered my grandfather,”. 

“Surely not!” She exclaimed, looking up at her husband's handsome profile, “that would make her more than a hundred years old,”. 

“I've heard of stranger things in these parts,” Cregan said with a shrug. 

They walked quietly together, moving slowly and carefully through the slush.

“Not as easy as last time then?” He asked as they made their way past the archery butts where the young men of the household were practising and past the stables with their snorting horses and young boys shovelling straw. 

“No, this one seems to have an obstinate Stark streak in them already,” she replied with a soft laugh that sounded like music to Cregan's ears. 

“I seem to recall your own family are known for their stubbornness so I won't be taking all the responsibility for that,”. 

“Pigheadedness, I believe my father called it,” she replied with a laugh, Cregan gave his own snort of laughter. 

“Your father certainly has a way with words,” he agreed. Recalling a few choice phrases her father had used for him during their courtship. 

As the pair crossed into the godswood the sounds of the keep and the town beyond the walls seemed to fade away and they became the only two people in the world. The ground was covered in a dusting of snow which had frozen overnight and now crunched under foot. From the dark canopy of the trees small birds sang between themselves and bounced from branch to branch, leaves rusting and falling to the ground in their wake. 

“Aly is worried we won't have enough time for her when the baby arrives,” Lady Stark said as they passed under the first dark boughs, “she kept asking me if we were going to send her away when I was putting her to bed last night,”. 

“She's a sensitive soul,” Cregan replied with a soft laugh, his mind wandering to the little girl who was at that moment playing in the same nursery he played in as a child, waiting for his own younger sibling to be born. 

“I dread the day we do need to send her away,” she lamented, drawing her body even closer to his in the cold air. Her free hand resting low on the swell of her belly. 

“We've many years before that day, my love,” he soothed, “and perhaps many more babes to fill our home,”. 

Lady Stark laughed softly, feeling the dull ache of her labours growing in strength as they followed the well known path through the trees.

“You are insatiable, always wanting more,” she said softly and Cregan laughed. 

They had been married 6 years and now were as comfortable with one another as any married couple could expect to be. Having been friends before they’re union had made things easier but the months after Cregan’s return from war had tested them to their limits. The time spent apart had been long and difficult for the both of them, when Cregan had left he was already old beyond his years but on his return he was darker and colder than the longest winter night. He’d forgotten laughter, softness and gentleness and his first few months back in Winterfell had been fraught as the two learned to live with one another again and find their way back to the happiness they’d briefly shared before the dragons tore the realm apart. 

The followed a well trodden path through the woods, her arm wrapped tightly through his and his hand resting over hers, warm and solid. As they walked, Cregan listened to her breathing, noticing every change to her breath and hitch in her voice. He was ready to take her in his arms at any moment to rush her back to the midwife if was necessary. 

They turned a corner in the path and were now on course to the weirwood tree, its ancient face seemed to watch their approach and its blood red leaves reflected in the black water at its roots. 

Suddenly Lady Stark stopped, her free hand going to her belly with a sharp intake of breath, she groaned, her teeth biting into her top lip as a strong contraction wracked her body. Cregan tightened his hold on her, fear gripping at his heart and twisting his stomach. 

After a few seconds of pain her face relaxed and her eyes opened, her cheeks were flushed with colour and despite the cold there was sweat at her hair line. 

“I think this might be working,” she said with a small smile, “or perhaps the baby can feel the tree,” she added, glancing toward the weirwood. 

“A good Stark then,” Cregan replied, forcing a lightness in his voice he didn’t feel. 

She stepped toward the tree and he followed her closely, never letting her more than an arm's reach from him. Once close enough she placed her hands on the tree, feeling the rough bark rasp against her skin. 

“Do you think the old kings of the north were born under this tree?” she asked, turning her face up as a shaft of wintery sunlight broke through the dense leaf cover, “snow and leaves for their midwife?”.

Cregan raised his eyebrow in thought for a moment before replying. 

“They were certainly conceived under it,” he smiled.   

“Yes, I remember the stories,” she agreed, turning to look at her husband and seeing the playful glimmer in his eyes. 

During the long months of the war she’d found comfort in the thousands of books in the Winterfell library, starting with the histories of the North going all the way back to the first men and how those ancient kings of the North did everything important in their lives in sight of a weirwood tree, they were born, married, made oaths and died as close to the trees as they possibly could. The histories had included stories of rituals the ancient peoples had contrived to conceive their children under the boughs of the weirwood trees, they believed these children would have the gifts of prophecy or live impossibly long lives because the powers of the tree flowed through them. 

“Perhaps, when you’re healed, we should try it ourselves,” Cregan teased. 

“When this one is delivered I’ll let you know if you’ll be welcome in my bed again,” she replied with a sly smile, before adding “my lord,”. 

Cregan gave a bark-like laugh, stepping closer to her and slipping his arm over her lower back and around her waist. She turned to face him, moving her hands from the ancient and cold bark of the tree to the living warmth of his shoulders, she studied his features before taking a deep breath and letting her forehead press against his. Another contraction wracked her body, she groaned and gripped tightly at the fur and wool of his cloak, taking strength from his body into her own. 

“I think we need to go back,” she said softly, their foreheads still pressed together. 

“I think so,” he agreed without hesitation.

Keeping his arm wrapped around her waist the two of them turned, she leaned heavily on Cregan as they completed the loop around the godswood and headed back through the castle courtyard. The space now almost completely empty as most of the household had been summoned for the midday meal. 

The progress was slow but they soon made it back to Lady Stark’s chambers, the room was cooler now, the windows had been thrown open but the coverings drawn across them to keep the room dark. The two women were sitting by the fire, talking quietly while the maester was still standing in the corner of the room, glaring. 

The midwife jumped to her feet and took Lady Stark’s arm, allowing her to slip from Cregan’s hold and move toward the bed. 

“How are you feeling my lady?” the midwife asked softly. 

“It helped, the pains are coming much more quickly now,” the lady replied. 

“Baby will be here soon,” the midwife agreed, “perhaps before the noon meal is over,”

Lady Stark glanced over her shoulder at her husband pausing by the door. His broad shoulders blocked out almost all of the hallway behind him.

“I want you to stay,” she said softly as she was helped back onto the bed. 

He smiled but shook his head. 

“This is not my place” he said softly, as he felt a burning sensation at the back of his throat and in his eyes as he fought the sudden overwhelm of emotions. 

“Thank you, my lord,” the old crone said from her seat, “we’ll take care of them,”.

Cregan nodded, knowing well enough when he was being asked to leave, he gave his wife a final look before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind himself and resuming his pacing. He wondered if his own father had paced nervously or if he had taken to the woods to hunt until the deed was over with and the child was cleaned and neatly wrapped in a blanket. He couldn’t imagine being any further than the castle gate while Lady Stark laboured. 

As the midwife predicted the midday meal hadn’t finished before there was the high pitched, squalling cry of a newborn that caused Cregan to stop in his tracks and lean heavily against the wall of the hallway, his hand clutching at his heart that was beating fast enough to burst. 

The door to the chambers opened and the midwife stepped out, a smile on her face as she saw her lord in a moment of unguarded emotion. 

 “A son, my lord, hale and hearty and with plenty to say for himself,” she said, the sounds of the crying child still coming clearly from the room behind her. 

“God's be praised,” Cregan said, his voice cracking with emotion. 

“Come meet him,”. 

Cregan felt his knees turn to water when he stepped into Lady Stark's rooms, the sight of his beloved wife cradling a squalling newborn was a joy that pierced his heart like an arrow. 

“Your son, my lord” she said with a tired smile, turning the bundle just enough for Cregan to be able to see the child's face. 

He stooped and took the child, cradling him close to his chest, for a few seconds the child stopped wailing, his blue eyes opening wide and taking in his first sight of his father. The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds, Cregan's own eyes filling with tears. One hot tear was about to track down Cregan's face when the baby in his arms screwed his eyes shut, opened his mouth and started to howl, his cries even more desperate than before. 

Lady Stark laughed from her seat on the bed, holding her arms out to take the child back. 

“Give him back, you're upsetting our son,” she said, grinning at Cregan who jealously clung onto the child, rocking him gently and trying to sooth the screaming babe. 

“Sorry my boy,” Cregan said softly, “but you'll just have to get used to me,”.

[xlatrina]

Show Me

Tags: 16(+)* (*Minor kissing, nothing crazy fr), Gender Neutral Reader (despite canon), Words of Affirmation/Sweet Talk, basically fluff

Not proofread so… hopefully no typos or clunky sentences anywhere lol. Mr. Crawling is being “high-maintenance,” as always, lol. After playing this game for HOURS, I just couldn’t help but crave more content. Buuuutt, given that the game is more or less finished (as far as I understand), I simply had no other choice but to do as writers who play VNs do and WRITE. This is my first “Canon x Reader” fic (well, formally, at least) too, so… please be kind 😅 Anywho, enjoy!

$$$ $$$ $$$

Mr. Crawling leaps into your arms with such speed that the bed smacks into the wall. A shake travels through the room, jostling the single photo hanging from the gray, textured surface. His hair falls against your skin, the bed sinking in a bit as you feel his body drag over your own. Every breath that reaches your face is cool, no thanks to the room you’re in.

“I enjoy you,” He chirps. His head comes to rest in the crook of your neck. The smell of metal fills your nose, and you scowl for a moment before your face relaxes. It’s a smell you'll simply have to get used to, especially now that you’ve promised to be his.

His body ever so slightly warms yours, though the blankets do more of the work. “I enjoy you,” he says again. “You enjoy me?”

“I enjoy you, Mr. Crawling.” You loosely run a hand through his dark hair. Surprisingly, your fingers only get caught about twice, and the small knots aren’t too hard to pull apart.

“You lots enjoy me?” Suddenly, the cold draft flying through hits your neck as Mr. Crawling lifts his head. Though, you never see his eyes: only the growing festers that conveniently disappear right at his bangs. He tenses in your arms, and you’d think the air froze him or something if it weren’t for his soft, whistling breaths. Mustering up a little smile, you cup his face with your hands.

“I lots enjoy you.” He giggles like a little schoolgirl, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Show!” He shouts.

“Huh?”

“I enjoy you, you enjoy me. Am happy lots you come here. I lots enjoy you being together me. You say you lots enjoy me, Ϛօ show!” He bursts each sentence out right after the other, and the bed squeaks from his shifting body as his arms reach around your torso. Show… Ah, that’s what he meant. He wants you to prove it.

For a moment, you frown. How exactly were you supposed to “prove” something like that?

Noticing your face, Mr. Crawling frowns as well. “You ok? No want to do?”

You shake your head and smile reassuringly. “I want to do. I can show you.” This shouldn’t be too hard. In fact, it’ll be easy… so long as Mr. Crawling doesn’t decide to use those sharp teeth of his.

Pulling him forward by his face, you two stare at each other. You focus on Mr. Crawling —first, his gaze, somewhere behind that curtain of hair, and then his lips. They’re ever so slightly purple, just like his cheeks that have become a little warmer while pressed against your palms.

Your eyelids lower as your lips graze his, the small sensation alone sending a shock throughout your body. Is Mr. Crawling feeling the same way? He’s tense all over again. “You ok?” You ask.

Quietly, he responds, “Am ok.”

You close your eyes, breathing in that slightly metallic smell. You exhale, and then pull Mr. Crawling firmly into your kiss. He remains stiff for a while until a muffled sound escapes him. His arms wrap around you tighter. He finally allows his body to fall limp against yours, and just as this happens, you pull back. A little smack bounces through the room. Lying upon your chest, Mr. Crawling drags himself a little closer to your face. Seizing the opportunity, one hand reaches to brush across his hair and the other remains on his cheek. Your thumb rubs against his face in slow, winding circles. Then, you pull his face even closer, catching him into a trap as you lock lips again. Both of you hum contentedly, the sound only accompanied by smacks and the fluorescent light buzzing above. Suckling his bottom lip, you tease him with a strong pull. He sighs into your kiss, and when you finally free him, he chases you.

“… Finished?” He asks. He seems to be pouting a little, already missing the sensation.

“Finished. You now know I enjoy you?” You ask. More or less: do you believe me now?

Mr. Crawling pauses, and then he giggles —much louder than before! He plops his head into the crook of your neck again.

“I know now,” he says. You bring your hand up to join the other in stroking his hair.

The two of you lie together this way for a while, enjoying the silence and the closeness. That is, until you eventually fall asleep and Mr. Crawling leaves your embrace to watch from afar.

[darnell-la]

perchance..dry humping with logan….pretty please with all the cherries on top

𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗡 '𝗘𝗠 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬

summary: Logan had just became apart of the x men. he’s always been known to flirt with whoever he could, but when y/n came around, he realized she was the only one he wanted to smell like.

warnings: up late, public humping, embarrassed, kissing, submission, dominance, dry orgasm, love confession, etc.

note: we kind of want to write a submissive!logan… tell us what y’all think.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Whatcha doin’ down here, bub? It’s like three in the mornin,” Logan made his way into the kitchen. Y/n had jumped from the man’s voice. She wasn’t expecting anyone down here. She wasn’t expecting him down here.

“God — I-I’m just listening to music,” y/n placed her phone down and took her headphones out. She was lying and somehow, Logan knew that. The way she slammed her phone — He couldn’t hold back his smirk.

“Are you sure that’s what you’re up to?” Logan asked as he sat next to y/n with his eyes on her phone. “Yes, I was-“ she tried to lie but she was cut off when Logan snatched her phone.

“Hey!” She yelled and whispered at the man, praying her phone was locked, but it wasn’t. Shit. “Let’s see what we have here,” Logan leaned back in his chair as he clicked the video he assumed she was just watching.

“Why are you watching us train?” Logan asked, already finding whatever she was doing boring. “You’re not even in the video,” he laughed, trying to figure out what it was that she was looking at until he noticed the video was cropped.

It was cropped to show him closer. The man skipped the video and noticed it was almost an hour long of him fighting.

The smirk that grew on his face, raised y/n’s heart rate. She was caught and she had nothing to back her up.

“Now, what made you do this, bub?” Logan slid her phone across the table for her to look at. “If I’m not mistaken, that looks like me — for an hour,” he pointed at himself fight training.

“I-I can't explain,” she said low, so embarrassed that she got caught. How could she get caught? She knew she should’ve stayed in her room.

“I don’t think there’s much to explain, princess. Seems you get off by watching me fight,” Logan was now hunching over, looking at her with his sweet and soft eyes.

She couldn’t look at him. She swore she would pass out if she did.

“You like watching me fight?” Logan asked y/n, a right hand softly touching her thigh. He’s been teasing her ever since he got here. Tonight was the first time he touched her. She was going inside on the inside.

“I know you do, you wanna know why?” He asked, hands getting higher until he stopped under her nightgown. His fingers were grazing her panties. Y/n looked up at the older boy, eyes shy.

“Because I can smell that pretty cunt leak,” his voice was sweet, yet dark. “And you’re always like that. It’s hard walking past you because you’re always so damn wet,” he tease as he rubbed on her clothes heat.

“Logan,” she whispered, not knowing if she wanted him to do this. They’re in the kitchen, so anyone could come down here and see how flustered she is from the way he’s talking and touching her.

“C’mere, bub,” Logan pulled away before patting his lap. Y/n was confused at first, but got the idea and did was she was told. She got up and went to sit, back facing him until he turned her around to sit, facing him.

As soon as she sat down, she felt how hard he was. It felt like actual metal, but she knew a human cock had no bone — So why is he this hard?

“You feel that, princess? Got me like this as soon as I walked in,” he said, making his cock throb through his pajamas. “I-I don’t know if we can do this,” y/n spoke. She’s never been a submissive kind, but he brought it out of her.

“Why not? I’ve liked you ever since I got here. Had to work weeks to make you nervous,” Logan’s hands traveled from her back, down to her ass to grip and pull at.

“We’re in the kitchen, Logan. A-And I don’t think the girls that you talk to will-“ she went to say but he cut her off quickly. “Ah uh — I don’t talk to anyone, bub. They talk to me,” he corrected her.

“I’ve been workin’ hard to impress you. No one else. Who gives a shit if they want me. I don’t want them,” Logan lifted his hand to cup her chin.

“Are you okay with that?” He asked, now using his hand that was on her ass to move her, making her grind on his clothes cock.

The whine that left her mouth, made Logan’s heart skip a beat. She sounds so beautiful.

“C’mon, baby, tell me — Tell me you’re okay with being my pretty girl,” he said, slowly moving his own hips. He kept asking her, wanting her to reply as her mind fogged up.

“O-Okay,” her head fell onto his shoulder. Logan lifted the girl's head back up only to lean in and suck on her neck. He wanted to make sure she knew he was going to claim her.

“Lo,” y/n moaned, now moving her own hips, feeling her cunt throb on him. She was getting hot and her stomach felt funny. Kind of when she masturbated but better.

She’s never grinned at someone, but this felt so good. This felt amazing.

“Always lookin’ so pretty, baby,” Logan said as his hands lifted her nightgown up so he could touch and feel her skin. “T-Thank you,” she stuttered as she looked into the man’s eyes.

Y/n was the first to lean in and taste Logan. He was sweet. He already knew she was sweet, but finding it out for himself was the best feeling.

Y/n’s hips began to speed up as her moans got a bit louder. Logan knew she was near. He couldn’t help but smirk on her lips. She was falling apart right on top of him.

“C-Cumming,” the word was barely heard from the low she was. Her moan was broken as she shook. She’s never had her cunt throb this hard before. She couldn’t stop it.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned under his breath as his hips bucked. He swear he wouldn’t cum in his pants. He’s not one of those, but tonight — he was different. Y/n felt wetness grow under him, and she knew it wasn’t her.

She was confused until she looked at the man in front of her. His breathing stuttered, his body twitched and his shaky arm was holding her back into him so she’d be closer to him.

“O-Oh my god, baby — Fuck,” the man caught his breath and calmed down from his high. In his mind, he thought she was emasculated, but when he looked at her needy eyes, he knew she still felt submissive.

“You’re so good, baby,” Logan gave her a peck. “I think I’m in love,” he joked, but they could both tell he wasn’t joking. “I know I am,” y/n said as her hands rested on his shoulders.

Logan felt relief before he smashed his lips on hers, making out with her roughly but softly at the same time. He eventually took her up to his room, not being able to hold back and tell her how he was going to move everything from her room into his.

He didn’t think he wanted her this bad, but after tonight — After she showed how much she liked him back, he needed to keep her around him at all costs. He was in love and she was too.

[rqnarok]

MOTIVE | dark!old man!logan x fem!reader

summary: strangers-with-benefits!old man!logan punishes you out of his jealousy.

— sequel to bed chem but could be read as a standalone!

content warnings/tags: smut! mdni. porn with little plot. old man!logan. unspecified age gap. dom!logan. sub!reader. possessive & jealous logan. pet names (kid, kiddo, little girl, etc). unprotected p in v. power dynamics. cnc. heavy breeding kink. barely proofread. wc: 2,6k 

You didn’t think Logan would care—or notice, even. 

This thing between you and him has been going on for months now. He picks you up from the diner you’re working at, drives you home (his house), then fucks you stupid throughout the after-hours. 

The sex is everything you have craved for, really, “Ya’ need a real man to do this shit, huh?” A real man who does all the work and stuffs you up with his cock until you’re only speaking in high-pitched whines.

But aside from that fact, something is missing. Something your big heart always had craved, something he failed to fill.

The lack of attention and affection.

Outside intercourses, he barely talks to you. He departs from the bed after every time you fall asleep—or when he thinks that you’re already asleep. Sometimes, he takes you back to your house in the morning, sometimes he just leaves you in his vacant residence. 

All bare and worn out.

You’d rest your head on his chest in the dim room, drawing shapes on his naked skin, “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” 

The tips of his fingers subtly stroke the crown of your head, a light touch you can barely feel, “Go t’sleep, kid.”  

It’s too unstable and lacks consistency.

That is when you start talking, well specifically, messaging, a friend of a friend, someone around your age. You are not even attracted to him but he’s nice. He gives you attention and affection you hardly even register. But hey, you just want your big heart loaded up. No one can ever blame you.

What you didn’t know is that Logan notices everything. He notices how you start to sleep more later than usual, playing with your phone for a while. How your lips curve upwards at the glowy screen when you thought that he already left the room. Making him utter a question into the cold air, “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

Strangled, your phone falls into the sheets that cover your bare form, “N-nothing, really. Just texting my girlfriends.”

And Logan knows you’re fuckin’ lying right to his face. Because he remembers you told him one time in the beginning: “Sometimes I feel lonely at night. None of my friends are a night owl like me, y’know?” He fuckin’ remembers it all. 

On a random Friday, he decided he had known enough. He drives his way to your diner and there you are. Sitting too close to his liking with some fuckin’ boy; the way those giggles left your lips makes his stomach turn. 

You didn’t know that he was sitting in his car the whole time because he never visited you on a Friday night: “Gotta do somethin’” 

But there he was, gripping the steering wheel too tightly his knuckles turned white. Muttering curse after curse under his heavy breath. Playing over the last few weeks and trying to find what went sideways. But something always went sideways with him. 

He had hoped you would understand that his aloofness was merely a product of his scars and the long life he had lived. But now, seeing you in your apron whilst smiling at another man and pouring Logan's favorite black coffee—he wished he hadn’t been so cold towards you. 

What would he do without you? What would he do if you decided that you didn’t want some old man n’picked that boy? He shakes his head lightly, no, Logan needs you. 

The thought of you leaving him makes him fucking sick and he decided to do something ‘bout it.  

By something, he means having you on his bed, naked and splayed bare in front of him as he laps up and down your dripping pussy. 

“Pussy loves me so much, huh?” Logan murmurs as he squeezes your thighs that clamped around his neck, making you hum a mhmm to the pillow beside you.

Logan’s thick fingers eagerly stroke your clit while he continues licking your folds, earning soft mewls as your head tilts back in pleasure, “Ah- ‘M so close..!” 

“Doin’ so good for your old man.” You’re moaning and gripping his greying hair while you squirm on the sheets, rolling your hips down on his face.

You were so so so close to getting your orgasm before he abruptly pulled away and stood back up on his feet. Taking you by surprise. Delaying you. 

“W-what?”  Your head is still overflowing with your high when you watch him drape his way into the nearest armchair and put on his glasses as he reaches for today’s newspaper. As if he didn’t just have his tongue deep inside you a minute ago. 

Just as you try to catch your breath, you slowly get up in a sitting position to gape at him with your flushed cheeks and aroused body. You were so close and you need him back now. 

After a minute, you begin to notice how he grips the newsprint too tensely, how his brows furrowed and his nose wrinkled, how he keeps clenching his jaw on repeat, and how he looks furious and grumpy.

Something’s up. 

“L-Logan?” You call out to him. He clenched his jaw one more time until he could not contain his anger anymore. 

He takes off his glasses in a harsh tug and stares directly at you, “Are you fuckin’ him?” 

The way he looks at you sends electricity into your core, you feel like a deer caught in a headlight, “W-wha—who are you talking about?”

When he gets up from his seat, you can see the bulge on his pants, his stare still burning into you as if a predator catching its prey, “Fuck. That fuckin’ boy from the diner. Did ya’ let him touch what’s mine?” 

Oh. 

Oh.

He’s talking about your ‘friend of a friend’. How did he find that out? You began to wonder in silence. 

You gulp as he gets closer and closer into the bed, making you push your back onto the headboard subconsciously, “Oh- no, no, he— he’s just a friend, Logan.”

He isn’t satisfied with that answer, you know this because the bed squeaks out a creaking sound when he gets his whole weight on the bed, latching and trapping you, “Ya’ thought about leaving me, kiddo?” He rumbles as he squishes your face cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, looking at you sternly as if he’s scolding a misbehaved child, “Thought about leavin’ your old man?”

“N-no!  Never!—” You’re being honest! You would never leave him…you just needed a little more. By sensing his rage that radiates the entire room, you try your best to stare back at him with your doe-eyes, a look that never fails to weaken down his knees.

Then, you build up the courage to cradle his face with your soft palms and stroke his beard, focusing on the greying parts. “Just a friend, Logan. ‘Would never leave you.” Your voice comes out as a whisper but it successfully eases him down. You can hear his breath steadying after a while. 

He closes his eyes as he lurks forward towards you, greedily locking his lips onto yours, “Was so fuckin’ mad.” As he pulls away to mumble, you keep pampering kisses on his face—to assure him that you do want him and him only. 

He pulls down his pants and lets his cock spring free to his stomach. A sight of pre-cum on his heavy tip and the grith of his fat cock makes you cry out. 

Logan trails his hands from your face down and down until he reaches your pussy. It’s still as wet as he delayed it a few moments ago. His calloused finger probes at your entrance, making you whimper into his mouth. 

“This is all f’me, little girl?” He keeps teasing your folds in one hand while pinching your peaking nipples with his other hand. All while still looking at you oh, so hungrily. 

“Y-yes! All for you. No one else—” You fail to finish your sentence when he enters one finger into your heat, placing kisses on your collarbones and mumbling mhmm onto your skin.

You can’t hold it anymore since he delayed your orgasm earlier—you’d do anything, “Pleasepleaseplease, need’a cum, please!” 

The squelching sound of his finger moving in and out, in and out of your cunt didn’t help either. You’re staring at him lust-filled and dumbfounded; you wish he could just read your mind.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He removes his finger and brings it to his mouth, swirling it around his tongue to savor you, “Tastes so sweet too.” 

“Where d’ya want me?”

You whimper pathetically at his words while making grabby hands at him. “I-inside, pleasepleas—” At this point, you don’t even know what you’re begging for.

In fact, you don’t even know anything…

“Don’t got any rubber, kid. Can’t fuck you, y’know?” Logan is fucking a liar. He threw all the condoms he had into the trash bin this morning for this sole purpose. You mumbles a small ‘wha’ into his face because he delays you over and over just for him to delay you again? 

No, no, no—you gotta have him now. 

You look at him like he’s the only man - like nothing matters but him and he’s making you furrow your brows in sadness, in desperation. 

So then,

“I-it’s okay… you can- still-if you want to. I’ll let you.” 

Bingo. 

Just how Logan wants this to go. Because again, out of your awareness, this is how Logan punishes you. For making him so jealous he can barely get any sleep, for pulling away from him the entire week that he can only jerk his cock off to your pink ribboned panties (the one that you left on his house), and for making him think about you every second he’s awake because you’re his air.

He was so fucking pissed—but now, he feels that he had won already. 

“Mhm, no can do, princess. Don’t wan’ you to regret it.” Your face fell into disappointment, can’t he see how much you want this? How much you need him? “‘S alright, yeah?” He says and earns a whiny protest from you. 

Tears begin to build up in your eyes as you stutter over your words. All you’ve got is sobs because you’re so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened tonight. You can only call out his name, trying to get his attention and affection. 

“Logan.” You’re squirming on the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips, pressing his body against yours— making him pull an indifferent look to continue on his act.  

“Next time, alright, kiddo?” He kisses the tip of your nose as a decoy. 

“N-no! Now! Please, Logan. Now, please—” You move your hips upwards and make his tip kiss your wetness. He begins to lose his composure when you wrap your small fingers around his cock. Logan grunts and lurches forward because he’s just an old man who needs you. There’s little he can do.

“Wan’ you inside…” You whisper breathlessly as you move your hands up and down on him the way he loves it, “‘S okay, Dada, I promise.” Your thumb swirls around his cockhead before bringing him closer and closer to where you want him until the tip pushes inside your aching folds, “‘Just pull out, okay?” 

Logan grins at you, showing his wrinkles. Oh, he won’t pull out. He knows he won’t. 

This is the climax of his ‘punishment’. Yes, he’s a bad man, the worst kind of man. But this is his only way to keep you, don’t you see? To make sure you won’t leave him, to make sure shit like yesterday won’t happen again. 

He bumps his nose into yours and kisses your forehead, “Y’sure, baby?” 

And you just let out a ‘yes’ because you just need him so so so badly. He nudges forward, in in in, until he’s buried inside of you—then he kisses your lips again. It’s so hot because he has never fucked you like this before, so raw and deep. After feeling your velvety walls, he knows he will never let you go. 

He starts a cruel pace and jolts you; your cute tits jiggle every time he thrusts inside—he’s sure that you’re made for him, to be with him. Put on this place to be his pretty baby and to have his baby. 

“Ya’ll let that boy do this to ya? Mm?” You shake your head rapidly at his question, hoping he’ll understand. And he does. “T-Tha’ right. Pussy’s glad to see me - loves me.” 

Your eyes squeezed so tight but he can’t stop, not when you’re squelching ‘round him and gripping him as if he’d disappear, “My good little girl - fuck - fuckin’ love you.” He confessed while burying his face on your neck and the only thing he has on his mind is puttin’ a baby in you.

It’s the truth: he loves you. More than anything–more than himself. He just doesn’t know how to show it in a normal way.

He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts—your moan gets louder and louder and louder. Logan takes your hands, interlinking your fingers together and kissing your knuckles.

You make these pathetic little noises, ah ah ahs, and he knows you’re close. Now is the time to do his final act, “Y’know why it feels so good, kid? 

He touching you everywhere: pinching your nipples and holding you by your throat,  “‘S ‘cause you’re fucking a real man, baby.”

“Y-yeah! Jus’ need a man—need you—” Logan nearly cums right there and then when he sees how tears stream down your cheeks as you look up at him in pure admiration—like you worship him. Again, just the way he wanted it.

Your shaky voice as a newborn fawn reminds him what he’s here for, what his punishment is to you.

“F-fuck. Gonna pull out soon, darlin’”

What? It’s too soon for you and your vice grip somehow manages to get stronger around him. He can barely withdraw before you squeeze your walls so deliciously and wrap your legs tighter; ankles locking his hips onto yours.  

“N-no! Don’t- don’t go anywhere— Staystaysta—” Logan sighs in relief. You ate up all his acts. It’s working. 

His palms move to your waist to work himself deeper in you, hitting that gummy spot that he knows will make you sob.

“Wha’dya mean no? Logan asks, “D-don’t wanna knock you up, kiddo.” Oh, but he does! He does. He does. “Gotta pull out. You don’t want that, ‘kay?” 

“I-I do! I do.” You finally plead to him with your soft voice. “I wan’ it..” 

Logan can’t last any second longer but it’s okay because you’re so close to getting to where he wants you.

He snarls a ‘Fuck’ under his breath and, “Gonna get ya’ pregnant, sweets.” His mouth gets to your neck and starts leaving dark bruises on your silky skin, “S’that what you want? My baby, hm?” 

“Yeah.” You squeak up while meeting down his thrusts, “Yeahyeahyea—gimme a baby.” You continue your mindless babble, your brain is empty except for the thoughts of him. “Fill me up, fill me up…” It’s becoming a plea. 

“I’ll fill you up, sweet girl.”

And he’s gone. Lips latching onto yours as you both reach ecstasy. Logan fucks you through it—fucks his seed so deep in you so it fuckin’ takes.

He wished he’d feel guilty as a sick old man for ruining you and your life—but here you are, milking him for all he’s got and telling him that you love him too.

You’re gorgeously unaware that he’s punishing you the entire time; you’re too fucked up when he’s spilling warm ropes of his cum on your walls. He pulls out slowly, staring at the white strings that gush out of your wet hole before plugging himself to make sure it takes.

Logan thinks everything’s fine because he’s got his assurance:  that you’re never going to leave him—that now you’re fully his—and that he has won. 

[foldingfittedsheets]

Back in the dawn of days I worked at Red Robin. It was my first real job after a brief stint at a dog kennel. Many people don’t know this but there’s a costume. A Red Robin mascot costume. I’d never seen it before I worked there.

He’s a violently red bird with empty eyes, a vacant grin, the most atrocious yellow leggings you’ve ever seen, and feet to make any Kingdom heart character swoon. His name was Red.

I was a host, and we were the only ones called upon to wear the costume. We’d don the bright yellow tights and corporate fursuit with someone leading us by the hand so we didn’t crash into everything.

The mesh screen in Red’s gaping mouth was supposed to let the wearer look out. Visibility was a joke. The restaurant was a dark gray haze of bustle from inside Red’s head. So every Tuesday and Thursday there’d be a two hour shift of a designated Bird Buddy leading the visually impaired sacrifice around.

After being forced to wear it during a heat wave and vomiting from the overwhelming temperature, I had vowed to never wear it again. But every new host always had a tiny secret longing to wear it when they first started. This desire never survived the full two hour shift.

So I was working a day shift with a newer host, Lauren, who had been openly enthusiastic to wear it. The manager hustled up to tell us that a little kid was here for his birthday and desperately wanted to see Red. We weren’t scheduled but impromptu requests could be accommodated when the restaurant was slow.

I said, “Great, Lauren can do it and I can be her buddy.”

I grabbed the hapless Lauren and dragged her to the dry goods storage where the suit was stored and where we changed. I closed the door and dragged the suit down. It had a particular greasy ground in smell to it.

Frying food, hot oil, and body odor had all permeated the faux fur with a unique reek. The management mouthed empty nothings that the suit was sent for monthly cleanings. It was common knowledge they were lying through their teeth. The smell of Red was eternal and unchanging.

“Okay, so take off your pants, put on the tights, then step into the body and I’ll zip you up. Then you get a vest and the head goes on last, got it?”

Lauren stared at me. I stared back. She made no move to change.

“Okay…” I repeated, “So you take off your pants and put on the tights?”

Lauren shifted nervously, silent. Not changing.

“Do you need me to turn around…?” It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be shy based on her personality, all the hosts were fairly blasé about changing in front of each other.

“I didn’t….” Her voice dwindled to a decimal only perceivable by bats.

“What’s that?”

Blushing vibrantly she raised her voice to the level of a tiny mouse to squeak, “I’m not wearing underwear….”

I stared at her harder. Our uniform pants were dark denim jeans. The thought of rubbing my bare pussy into denim for a whole shift was on par with dry humping a sheet of sandpaper. “You’re… you’re not wearing… anything?”

She shook her head miserably.

We both regarded the yellow tights worn by most of the host staff. We contemplated a lack of underwear being pressed into those communal tights, adding to the miasma of Red’s smells.

But I was sure as fuck not getting in that costume.

“Make sure to take the tights home and wash them.”

Her eyebrows went up. She met the bitter steel in my eyes and crumpled. I turned my back and she did what she had to, slipping naked as a babe into the neon spandex of Red’s tights. Lauren trustingly kept a grip on my hand as I navigated her through trays and tables to terrify the tiny birthday boy.

To the best of my knowledge, she never did wash the tights.

[harmonic-intervention]

Got a little inspired by Tim saying Buck wasn't spending as much time with Eddie because of his new relationship. Wouldn't leave me alone so enjoy my word vomit.

When Buck woke up, he did so gradually, slowly gaining awareness of the mattress and the frankly unholy amount of pillows under him, of the warmth settled right next to him, of the gentle stroke of a thumb over his lower arm.

Sighing, he moved, stretched like a cat in a sunbeam, and turned over onto his side, rolling right into the source of that pleasant warmth.

He didn't even open his eyes. Instead, he blindly found his way to his destination, burying his nose in the space right under a very nice jaw. He felt the vibration of the resulting chuckle right against his skin.

"Good morning," Tommy mumbled. "Sleep well?"

Buck nodded, but it ended up being more of a nuzzle. "The best."

A large hand found its way into the curls at the back of Buck's head and began gently scratching at his scalp, twirling a curl around a finger, the usual.

Buck finally found the will to move his face away from Tommy's throat and actually open his eyes. The light of the room was dim, the dark curtains keeping most of the sunlight out.

Tommy looked beautiful lying there with his hair all soft and fluffy. To be fair, Buck thought he always looked beautiful, and every time he looked at him, it was as if he became more and more so.

"Morning," Buck finally returned the greeting. He leaned in to steal a chaste kiss, but quickly found he wasn't satisfied with just one.

The same way that Tommy apparently wasn't satisfied with just a couple short ones, as a hand along Buck's jaw kept him close, and when his thumb found its place on the bolt of Buck's jaw, he opened up easily.

They hadn't been dating for all that long, but most of their mornings off were spent like this - in bed, luxuriating in the cozy, intimate atmosphere.

They both had come off of a long shift of not seeing each other, and now had the next 48 hours off together, so Buck had gone to Tommy's place after the end of his shift. He was going to spend the next two days glued to Tommy's side. A crowbar would not be able to pry him off.

Things were heating up steadily, the space between them being reduced down to nothing. Buck's hand started to make its way beneath the sheets to slide down Tommy's torso when he was interrupted by his phone vibrating on the nightstand.

Buck was determined to ignore it - whoever it was could just send him a message and he would get back to them - and sighed his relief right into Tommy's mouth when the call ended. His fingers skirted along the waistline of Tommy's boxers when the vibrating picked back up.

Still on his path of disregarding the existence of the outside world, Buck moved closer to Tommy, slotting a leg between his, and just when he was finally about to stop teasing them both and actually put his hand on Tommy's dick, his phone started acting up again.

Much to his dismay, Tommy moved his mouth away from his. "I think it's important."

Buck grumbled as he turned over to grab his phone, one hand still firmly in place on Tommy's body, "Whoever it is better have life insurance."

He ignored the soft snort that came from his boyfriend in favor of taking a look at his phone screen.

"It's Eddie."

"Better pick up."

Buck might have been ready to just turn his phone off, but Tommy's suggestion was much more reasonable. He nodded and turned back on his other side.

Tommy's eyes flitted down between them. "You gonna take your hand off my dick?"

"No," Buck replied with a wink and accepted the call. "Hey, Eddie."

Tommy shrugged and leaned in, finding something for his mouth to do. Namely go to town on Buck's throat.

"Buck, where are you? I'm at your place and it's empty."

It took a moment for Eddie's words to register, mostly because Buck was distracted by the hint of teeth against his adam's apple. "What- my place? We have a 48 off."

"Yeah, I thought we could hang out. You didn't mention any plans, did you have something?"

He didn't mention any plans because going over to Tommy's place had become the rule, not the exception.

"I'm at Tommy's." Syllables were getting harder to form when most of his brainpower was used to concentrate on hands sliding up and down his back, stopping just shy of his ass every time.

"Oh! Are both of you up, I could come by there, then."

Eddie started talking about something - probably what he had wanted to convince Buck to do with him, something about something, Buck would full-heartedly admit that he was not listening to a single word. Not when his super hot boyfriend was being a tease.

"Listen, man, that sound's great," probably, "but I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"What?"

Tommy chuckled against Buck's jugular, clearly having heard Eddie's confusion through the phone.

Buck was about to say something that would probably traumatize his best friend forever, when seemingly, he connected the dots by himself.

"Oh, ew, Buck! What the fuck?"

"Don't 'what the fuck' me, you wouldn't stop calling!" Buck exclaimed.

This time, Tommy let out an actual laugh, definitely loud enough to be picked up by the phone. Eddie groaned on the other side, sounding very much like he was regretting all of his life choices.

"Listen, we'd love to hang out, but maybe a bit later, yeah? Give us ..." Buck looked down at Tommy and raised an eyebrow, "like, an hour?"

Tommy's reply of, "Two hours," was muffled against Buck's collarbone. He had quickly gone back to ignoring the phone call in favor of biting at the edges of Buck's body.

"Two hours. Then you can come over."

Hands free and mind not pulled in two different directions, Buck immediately buried a hand in Tommy's hair and pulled him off. He narrowed his eyes at the spark of mischief in Tommy's own ones.

After getting Eddie's confirmation and the beginning of him lamenting his life, Buck simply hung up and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, uncaring whether it actually landed there or not.

"Having fun?" he asked with a put upon frown.

Tommy didn't even have the decency to look bothered by the grip that Buck had on his curls. "So far, yes."

Buck hauled him back in into a biting kiss, using the momentum of his own body to turn them over into the pillows.

He ignored the smug grin pressed against his mouth for now. He'd take care of that soon enough.

[uzurakis]

hi again!! (ik I just sent in a request I just had another one LMFAOOO) im back bc I got another request/idea!! jjk men (..yuta n Megumi 🙏 n whoever else u want :3) who got into a nasty argument (could be from ur argument post but it doesn’t have to be connected to that post!!) and then gets really injured on a mission right after the argument! it’s up to you if reader + jjk men end up making up, or it could end on a angsty route of them anxiously waiting for reader to wake up while trying to think to ways to apologize with regret; doesn’t rlly matter!! do what you want 😛😛

HEY, WAKE UP . . PLEASE?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. first, i apologize this one took a very long time because i wanted to carefully hit the right spots and nail the each character. second, i only make 3 characters this time ‘cause each one of them is long enough to read. third, i wanna make you guys suffer <3 enjoy !!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s fingers trembled as he reached out to touch your hand, the memory of his harsh words replaying in his mind. “why didn’t i see it coming?” he muttered to himself, voice hardly above a whisper. the guilt was suffocating, the feeling that he had failed you as a partner, both in life and on the field, gnawing at him relentlessly.

he hadn’t slept since you were brought in, eyes red and heavy, his emerald pupils weren’t evident anymore with the dark circles underneath a testament to his vigil. every beep of the monitors felt like a countdown, each passing second a reminder of how fragile everything was. he kept running through what he could have done differently, how he could have prevented this from happening.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion, repeating the words tremendously. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—“

“i’m so sorry. i never meant for this to happen. i never wanted to hurt you.”

his mind was filled with images of your smile, your laughter, and the way your eyes would light up when you were happy. he wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, to hear your voice, to have the chance to make things right.

the silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. megumi’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and determination. he knew he had to find a way to apologize, to show you that he cared more than he had ever managed to express. but how could he make up for the pain he had caused? how could he prove to you that he was truly sorry?

he squeezed your hand gently, as if the simple touch could convey all the words he struggled to find. “please wake up,” he pleaded softly. “i need to tell you how much you mean to me. i need to show you that i can do better. that i will do better. please, just wake up.”

as the hours dragged on, megumi’s resolve only strengthened. he would make things right, no matter what it took. the door to your room opened, but megumi didn’t look up. his focus was entirely on you, silently willing you to open your eyes. he wouldn’t leave your side until you did. he couldn’t. the weight of his regret was too heavy, his love for you too deep.

“please,” he whispered again, each syllable filled with desperation. “come back to me.”

GOJO SATORU

“you’re always so damn reckless!” gojo had shouted, his voice echoing in the small office.

“maybe if you weren’t so arrogant all the time, you’d understand why!” you had snapped back, feeling the sting of his words cut deep.

now, the same guy sat by your hospital bed, his usually confident demeanor shattered. his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, blood seeping from where his nails dug into his palms. the sight of you lying there, pale and unmoving, tore at his heart. he cursed himself repeatedly, the words tumbling out in a desperate, angry whisper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, voice breaking. “why the hell did this have to happen? why couldn’t i fucking save you?”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to give him some sign that you were still there with him. the argument replayed in his mind, each harsh word a dagger in his chest. he wanted to take it all back, to tell you how much he loved you and needed you.

“shit,” he hissed, slamming his fist into the armrest of the chair. “i’m supposed to be the strongest, but what the hell does that mean if i can’t even protect you?”

a hollow aching threatened to eat away at his chest, a gnawing remorse. tears blurred his vision as he looked at you, voice a broken whisper. “wake up. i want to apologize. i want you to know how sorry i am.”

the room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. gojo’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt, also his helplessness. he had faced countless curses and enemies without flinching, but this, seeing you like this, was unbearable.

he cursed again, the words raw and filled with pain. “damn it, why didn’t i stop you? why didn’t i fucking do something?”

his mind raced, trying to think of ways to make it right, to fix what had been broken. but all he could do was wait and hope. he reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his grip trembling.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i love you. please, just wake up. i don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

yuta, who was normally expressive, was pale and drawn as he sat beside your bed. his voice was crushed by the weight of his remorse, and he was unable to speak. he was completely broken by the sight of you there, so still and vulnerable, in ways he never imagined. his fingers barely touched yours as he extended a shaking hand, fearing that the slightest touch could break you.

memories of the argument replayed in his mind, each moment seared into his consciousness. your angry words echoed in his ears, mingling with his own harsh retorts. he remembered the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked when you told him you were done talking. he had let you walk away, his anger blinding him to the danger you were about to face.

tears welled up in yuta’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. he had to be strong for you, even though you couldn’t sense a thing. the guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that whispered of his failures. he had promised to protect you, to be there for you, and yet here you were, injured and unresponsive, because he had let his anger get the better of him.

“it’s all my fault,” he grumbled, voice barely audible in the sterile room. “i should have stopped you. i should have been there.”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to open your eyes and tell him it was okay. but you remained still, your breathing steady but shallow. yuta’s mind was a storm of regret and self-recrimination. he blamed himself for everything, convinced that his failure to resolve things before you left had led to this. if only he had followed you, things might have been different.

“wake up, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “you can’t do this to me..”

he felt a sob rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, determined not to break in front of you. he had to be strong, even if it felt like he was falling apart inside. the thought of losing you was unbearable, a gap that threatened to swallow him whole.

“why did i let you go?” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “why didn’t i fight for us?”

the minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity as yuta sat by your side, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. he couldn’t imagine a life without you, couldn’t bear the thought that he might have lost you because of his own stubbornness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice choked with emotion. he stayed there, silent and unmoving, the weight of his regret a constant presence. all he could do was wait and hope, praying that you would wake up and give him the chance to apologize, to tell you how much you meant to him. until then, he would sit by your side, holding on to the hope that you would come back to him.

“i love you. please, just give me a chance to make things right.”

@uzurakis

[westhly]

through sickness and health.

hwang jun-ho x wife! reader

₊✧ summary he takes care of you during the day because you're sick.

₊✧ content fluff.

the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the apartment. it had been a restless night for you. you had been feeling different since last night, but even though you assured jun-ho that you were fine, he didn't seem to believe you.

you grunted occasionally during sleep. you couldn't tell if you were awake or asleep. you could feel the heaviness in your head and eyes. you were cold and the oppressive heat beat down on your face.

you felt his fingers on your neck and cheek as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. he stayed on you for a while. then his lips on your forehead. it was effective.

"wifey," jun-ho said quietly, brushing a stray lock of your hair. his voice was low but firm he sat up and his attention was on you.

your eyes fluttered open slowly, still heavy. "jun-ho…?" your voice was low, your pale face, the weakness in your voice and your worsening fever kept him on edge.

"you have a fever," he said. you had the reflex to hold on as he pulled the blanket off you, but in vain. a shiver ran through you. "take off your top." he put his hand on your back to help you sit up and then he took off your pajamas. your head was throbbing.

"i told you. why don't you take care of yourself?" it was a tone he often used when he wouldn't let someone push him away. you pouted at him. "don't look like that." he handed you the water in the table. "are you in pain?"

you took the water and nodded. "my head."

he shook his head negatively. as if scolding you. you looked away. his hand gently caressed your shoulder. helped you sit up, propping your up with a pillow so you wouldn’t feel dizzy. “i'm coming. don't pull the blanket over you. keep the fever down.”

he wasn't great at expressing emotions openly, but he wasn't the kind of person to stand by and do nothing when someone he cared about needed help, so when he woke up and saw you lying in bed, your face flushed with fever, his first instinct was to get up and take care of you.

he put on some random shirt. he went to the kitchen. he prepared something that wouldn't upset your stomach. you couldn't take medicine on an empty stomach and you had to eat something. your favorite porridge and a tea.

followed by a mild painkiller and a fever reducer.

he handed you tea first, making sure she drank enough to relief. then he carefully placed the bowl of porridge in front of you. “i made something light,” he said, his gaze fixed on you as you carefully ate a few

"thank you." you whispered. your cheeks were flushed cause of fever.

he didn't leave your side until he was sure you had eaten enough. when you felt a little unwell, he gave you painkiller and fever reducer. “do you want me to change your clothes?”

he stroked your back. there was softening and concern in his gaze. you shook your head no. “i want to get some sleep.”

jun-ho nodded. he could see that you fever had gone down a bit and was less pale. “just rest. i'll keep an eye on you.” he kissed your forehead so you wouldn't feel alone.

for the past hours he'd been taking your temperature every now and then, keeping the room warm. making sure you were feeling okay. when he finally saw that your skin wasn't burning like before and that you were more peaceful, he decided to go to work. he covered you up before he left. “get well soon.”

for the rest of the day, you felt fine except for some weakness. you decided to air the house a bit and lay on the couch. around noon, you woke up to a call from jun-ho. he asked if you were okay, if you needed anything.

when it got dark you felt the headache and the heaviness hit you again. you put the blanket over you again. lay on the bed. your hand was on your head.

jun-ho had come home a little early. before he came back, he had bought some medicinal soup and some herbal teas for you. when he saw you on the bed like that, he frowned.

he knelt beside the bed and took your hand in his own. he checked your fever. “how are you feeling?”

“im great but,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. you grimaced. “the headache is killing me.”

he kissed your hand. “i brought you some soup, drink well and rest. we can go to the doctor.” you smiled slightly and nodded. “no, just be with me.” he smiled and kissed your hand again. he stood up. “but if you get worse, we'll go.” he said in a determined voice.

he made a mental note to keep an eye on you throughout the night as he prepared your soup and medicine.

when you finished your soup and took medicine, he took the empty plates and glass back and placed it on the bedside table.

“do you want me to get you anything else?” he asked, always trying to anticipate what you might need next.

you shook your head. “no... , just want to rest. you should too jun-ho. you've been at it all morning.”

he nooded. he put you back down and covered you. “get a good rest, i'll be in the living room.”

your hand reached out toward him and he took it in your without hesitation. your touch was enough to remind him of the deep bond you both shared. the bond that, in moments like these, mattered more than anything.

“together.” you whispered, barely able to keep you eyes open. sleep was taking over you.

for a moment, he allowed himself to relax with you, just a little. he wasn’t used to being vulnerable, but seeing you this way made him realize just how much he love you.

even in the quiet stillness of the room, with nothing but the sound of your soft breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets, his commitment to you was clear.

he held you close to his chest and kissed you on the cheek before he closed his eyes.

through sickness and health.

wow it seemed weird to me 'cause i always write dark things, maybe I'll delete it

anyway enjoy it 🫶🏻🫶🏻💓