#kind of soft on the chicken care but

[sodafrog13]

chapter 4 of under different circumstances is out now!!

(those of you who have been following me for a while may remember these doodles i made; this is the chapter they were from :])

[lubdubology]

Soft Edges

SYNOPSIS: Logan doesn't know how to relax. So you help him.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader (Although minus the quick blip mention about the Void, you could imagine any Logan you'd like)

WC: 2K

WARNINGS: sexually suggestive innuendos; non-explicit descriptions of nakedness; playful banter; kissing; mild swearing; feeeeeelings; honestly, just tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I haven't written anything four hundred and eighty years seven years and I'm honestly kind of nervous about this. I thought my writing muse was long dead and buried. But here it is, seemingly revived. The idea for this story kind of just fell out of my head when I should have been napping while my toddler napped. The story won out. I hope you like it! <3

You wake with a jolt to the sound of Logan’s alarm blaring from his phone. From beside you comes Logan’s low, “Ah, fuck,” before silence reclaims the room. 

It’s early, the first rays of morning light just barely peeking above the horizon. You roll over and peer over your pillow to find Logan pulling on a pair of jeans. 

“I thought you were off today,” you mumble sleepily, laying your head back down and admiring the way his muscles move as he slips a shirt over his shoulders. 

He looks back at you with a soft smile. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, continuing to dress. “Picked up an extra shift at the yard.”

Since returning from the Void, Logan had picked up a smattering of odd jobs to earn money. A couple of months working at a quarry. A per diem for a local contracting company. Currently a lumber yard thirty minutes outside of town. Despite notoriety for helping save the entirety of existence, some employers still had qualms about hiring someone from another universe. Not that he cared. You think he was just happy being useful. 

You reach for him and pull him down for a kiss. You can feel the curve of his smile against your lips and it’s these soft moments about him you love the most. “Do you even know how to relax?” you ask, snuggling back down against the rumpled sheets. 

“I relax,” he replies, standing up to grab his boots at the end of the bed. 

You can’t help the snort that escapes from you. “Name one thing you to do relax,” you counter, watching through half lidded eyes as he sits back down on the bed to lace up his boots. 

Logan pretends to think about it and then smirks. “You.”

He chuckles as you whip his pillow at him, your aim off as it sails harmlessly past his head and onto the floor. You hide your smile as he looks down at you, his eyes warm but still tired. “Relaxing really ain’t my style, sweetheart.” 

“You deserve it though,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Logan looks down at you for a moment, his smirk fading as something softer settles in his expression, but he doesn’t respond to your statement. He stands and shrugs on his jacket, straightening out the collar before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.

You watch him leave and as you settle down to steal a couple more hours of sleep, you hatch a plan to show him just how nice relaxing can be. 

+++

You hum to yourself as you cook, the aroma of roasted potatoes and chicken filling the apartment. You’re just about to start on the green beans when you hear the jingle of Logan’s keys in the lock and the door swings open with a heavy creak. 

“In here, babe!” you call from the kitchen. 

“I could smell this all the way downstairs,” he comments, tossing his keys on the counter. “What’s this for?”

Logan wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you tight against his frame, nuzzling his nose where your neck and shoulder meet. With a smile, you reach back and lightly scratch your nails through the scruff along his jaw. He smells like sawdust and smoke as you press a light kiss to his cheek. 

You savor these moments with him. When you’d first met him, he was distant and wary, years of trauma causing him to be guarded. He warmed up slowly, his touches lingering longer and his words spilling more freely. But now, moments like this—where he’s soft and affectionate—have become more frequent. Logan craves touch and you are more than willing to reciprocate. 

“I thought you could use a nice dinner,” you say, your hand still tracing the line of his jaw. “Long day?”

Logan lets out a low grunt in response, his forehead resting against your shoulder. “One of those days where every idiot with a hammer thinks he can DIY,” he mutters, his breath warm against your skin. 

You smile and give his head an affectionate pat. “Well, you’re home now and I’ve got everything handled here. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Sure you don’t need help?”

“You try and help me, and I’ll beat you with this spoon,” you tease. 

Logan laughs and raises his eyebrow. “Promise?”

You smirk, giving him a playful nudge to the ribs with your elbow. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the kind of smile that softens all his sharp edges. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze before stepping back, his fingers lingering just a beat longer. “Alright, alright,” he says holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll just go wash up.” 

As Logan retreats to the bathroom, you hear the rustle of him changing out of his work clothes and the thud of his boots as he tosses them to the floor. You finish dinner, resuming your quiet humming as you set the table. You finish plating everything when Logan emerges, work clothes changed for a fresh t-shirt and jeans. 

“Come eat, Lo.”

He joins you at the table and gives you an appreciative look as he sits down. “This smells incredible.”

You sit across from, watching as he takes the first bite, a prickle of anxiety setting along your spine as you wait for his reaction. A low groan of pleasure rumbles in his throat. “Fuck, this is good.”

A grin spreads across your face as he takes several more bites like a man starved. “I experimented with the cast iron skillet,” you comment as you watch him. “Looks like it was a solid impulse purchase.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying the meal and sharing small pieces of conversation. Logan helps himself to seconds and as he finishes, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets his gaze on you. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he says, his voice low and warm. 

“I wanted to,” you reply simply. “And, like I told you this morning, you deserve it. Let me help you relax, Logan.”

There’s a pause, his expression softening as your words settle over him. You know he’s not one to ask for much and you can tell his savoring this moment. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” His voice is gruff but there’s a tenderness there that makes your chest ache. 

“A good something?”

He smiles. “The best somethin’.”

You finish dinner, swatting him away when he offers to help clean up and banishing him to the living room. Dishwasher loaded and leftovers put away, you join him on the couch. “Care to indulge me once more?”

He quirks his eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

+++

Logan stares at you dubiously as you lead him to the bathroom and gesture towards the tub. You flash him a grin as a frown tugs at the corner of his mouth. “It’s just a bath, Logan.”

He eyes the tub as if he’s waiting for it to swallow him whole. He crosses his arms across his chest. “I don’t do baths,” he mutters. 

You roll your eyes and place your hand on his chest, gently pushing him further into the bathroom. “Yeah, and you don’t relax either. Just humor me.”

Logan gives you a look—half amused, half reluctant—as he allows you to continue to nudge him closer. He reaches up and scratches at the back of his neck and blows out a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbles, “but only if you join me.”

You laugh softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin. “Tough bargain, but I accept.”

You turn from him and run the faucet, letting the tap run until you find the temperature sweet spot. Satisfied, you toss in some bath salts, the scent of eucalyptus quickly filling the room. The tension in Logan’s posture eases as you finish preparing the bath, but he still eyes you like he’s not entirely sure what comes next. 

Once the tub is filled, you shut off the tap and turn back towards him. “Okay, now strip.”

Logan smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so this is what you really wanted.”

“You’re not that hard to get naked, Logan,” you say with a laugh. 

He chuckles, but follows your instruction, pulling his shirt over his head. As you join him in undressing, you can’t help but admire his physique, his muscles flexing and gliding beneath his skin. You shimmy your panties down your hips as he kicks off his pants, leaving you both bare. 

You feel his gaze heavy on your skin as you step into the tub and beckon him to join you. He steps in, sitting down so his back is against your chest and he lets out a low groan as the warm water envelopes him.  Wrapping your legs around his hips, you cradle him and feel the tension ease from his muscles. 

“See?” you say, leaning to press a kiss to his temple. “Isn’t this nice?”

Logan peeks up at you and smirks. “The naked woman helps.”

You grab a washcloth and dip into the water to dampen it before running it over his chest. “You don’t have to admit you like it,” you say, rubbing the cloth in gentle circles along his collarbones. “You’re basically a wet noodle in my arms.”

He makes a wordless noise in the back of his throat and closes his eyes as you continue to wash him. A comfortable silence surrounds you, soft drops and splashes of water and the faint background hum of your apartment the only noises interrupting your space. You continue to wash him, gently massaging his shoulders, arms, down to the long fingers that know how to play you so well. A deep groan rumbles through his chest as you rub your fingers across the skin in between his knuckles. 

You eventually let the washcloth sink and wrap your arms Logan’s chest. He molds his arms against yours, lacing your fingers together. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shake your head and hold him just a little tighter. “You do, Logan. Despite your past, you’re a good man and you deserve someone to help shoulder your burdens.” Your voice is sincere as you press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Or least help you relax every once in a while.”

You soak until the water cools just enough to chill your skin. Reluctantly, you untangle yourself from him and nudge him to stand. He’s already got a towel slung low across his hips as you step out and he doesn’t even let you grab your own before pulling you close. 

A yelp dies on your lips as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs pressing into the corners of your jaw as he tilts your mouth up to him. He inhales deeply through his nose, his lips moving expertly over yours, his tongue seeking the warmth of your kiss. 

You lean into him, your fingers trailing along his ribs and pressing into the damp of his skin. Logan kisses you once more, a gentle press to the corner of your mouth before he lets you go. 

“So,” he starts slowly, “Now that you’ve shown me how you relax, can I return the favor?”

A mischievous gleam dances in his eyes and he doesn’t give you time to answer before slinging you over this shoulder. Your giggles echo down the hallway as he carries you and he kicks open the bedroom door before setting you down on the bed. You scoot back and stare up at him with an expectant glance.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says with a grin, “My turn.”

[luveline]

hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday

im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping

could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.

i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶

thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k

Can I come over? Are you home 

You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text. 

Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me? 

Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner? 

What kind of dinner my love  

Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken 

Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you 

You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?

You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable 

What’s wrong??? 

Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there 

You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You don’t have to rush over.” 

“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.” 

Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?” 

“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.” 

“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”

“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?” 

“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?” 

“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.” 

“You’re always good company, you loon.” 

“You what?” 

“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.” 

“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.” 

“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?” 

“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”

“I know what you want.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Spencer!” you laugh. 

“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?” 

“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.” 

“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.” 

Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear. 

You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway. 

He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.” 

You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.” 

“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?” 

“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?” 

“It’s in my back.” 

Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.” 

“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.” 

“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?” 

“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise. 

“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?” 

You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.” 

“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”

Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.” 

“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.” 

“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly. 

You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”

He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised. 

[spider-stark]

PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes. 

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady. 

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.” 

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further. 

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.” 

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be. 

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault. 

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.” 

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long. 

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze. 

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care. 

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you. 

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-” 

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!” 

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment. 

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.” 

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother. 

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you. 

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?” 

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well. 

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother. 

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you. 

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.  

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?” 

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings. 

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him. 

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant. 

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all. 

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother. 

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.” 

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room. 

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.  

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo. 

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck. 

And, in many ways, you hate it. 

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard. 

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself. 

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind. 

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol. 

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight. 

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest. 

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too. 

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors. 

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball. 

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air. 

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you. 

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips. 

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life. 

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear. 

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table. 

“No!” 

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck. 

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?” 

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table. 

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished. 

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary. 

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?” 

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different. 

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid. 

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!” 

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?” 

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.” 

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent. 

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence. 

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?” 

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe. 

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.” 

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-” 

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,” 

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too. 

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!” 

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh. 

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.” 

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising. 

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.” 

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?” 

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.” 

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times. 

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into. 

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel. 

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.” 

“You could.” 

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise. 

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.” 

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth. 

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-” 

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.” 

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another. 

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,” 

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.” 

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?” 

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure. 

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.” 

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you. 

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want. 

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon. 

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into. 

That, for him, it had always been you. 

“Aegon, I-” 

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.” 

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions. 

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it. 

“You’re… generous.” 

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon. 

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.” 

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self. 

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.” 

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression. 

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.” 

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.” 

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.” 

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.” 

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.” 

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age. 

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?” 

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.” 

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin. 

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.” 

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.” 

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice. 

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

[peachesofteal]

pls let Simon hold that baby 🥺

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild suggestive content, mention of spanking - could be considered mildly dark and twisty

"Oh, you came!"

What? Yes, he came. You invited him, didn't you? Wasn't that... did he get this wrong? "Er, yeah... I thought you said-"

"I did, I did. Come in." You step to the side, allowing him entry into the hallway where the smell of something incredible lingers, pulling at the pockets of his cheeks. You can cook. Judging by the scent of roast chicken and herbs that fill the room, he knows immediately that you're better than the 'subpar' dinner you mentioned yesterday. "You just ah, seemed unsure. I didn't want to assume." His hand pats his pocket instinctively, seeking the mask, trying to fight the urge to pull it over his face, pleasantly surprised you don't seem off put by his face, or the fact that it's the first time you've seen him without it.

"I had some things going on today, wasn't sure about my schedule until a few hours ago." Lie. It's a lie, a bold faced one. He knew he'd be here from the moment you had rushed out the invite, offering to cook him dinner as he dwarfed you inside your cozy apartment, dead smoke detector batteries in his hand.

"Well, thank you for coming. And thanks for all your help yesterday. I couldn't figure that stupid thing out to save my life." You laugh, teeth exposed, easy and carefree. A shiver ricochets down his spine. Why you let him inside your flat the first time, he'll never understand. Maybe one day, he'll reprimand you for it. Chide you for letting a stranger inside your home, remind you to be more cautious. He would explain why you need to more careful, more observant of your surroundings, as his thumb rubbed away the fat tears falling over your cheeks, the result of him taking his palm to your ass a dozen times for the slip up. Can't be makin' mistakes like that, love. Not with it just being you and the baby when I'm not here- he'd tell you, make you promise not to do it again, soothing your tears with cool cream against your skin and gentle, but firm, reassurance.

You just need someone to take care of you, that's all. Teach you.

Emmaline makes a noise, a half babble, half cry, and it breaks him from his reckless daydream, bringing him back to reality in a matter of seconds. What is he thinking? You're his neighbor. He doesn't even know you.

"Thanks for inviting me." You're bent at the waist, hands pulling a roasting rack from the oven, perfectly cooked bird sitting on a bed of potatoes and carrots, and his stomach rumbles almost loud enough for you to hear.

"I owe you. That beeping would've kept little miss here up for hours." You jerk your head in Emmaline's direction, where she's fixated on you, mouth hanging half open. "Needs a few more minutes." You mumble to yourself, and then turn around again. "Do you want a drink? I've got some lagers, and a bottle of wine somewhere." Your fingers knot together, words on the tip of your tongue hopeful, almost... nervous, and you give him another smile, albeit this one is less confident.

"A lager would be good." He tries to settle you by being agreeable, and you produce two from the fridge, your fingers brushing against his when you hand one to him, skin warm and so, so soft, the kind of soft he's rarely felt, the kind that feels like silk against sandpaper. Yours against his.

"So, you said you travel for-" Your question is interrupted by a shriek, a demanding cry from Emmaline, her little fists waving in the air at you, like she's indignant about the redirection of your attention. You pick her up, yellow jumper bright against your red apron, and you shoot him an apologetic grimace. "I'm sorry, I was hoping she'd be down by now but, she's just been so fussy lately." You bounce her back and forth, cries quieting until she's just blinking at you with wet eyes, and the timer on the oven goes off. "Shit. Ah..." You look at her, and then look at the oven. "Can you, would you mind?" You extend your arms, Emma inside them, and he puts every piece of his training to use trying to control his reaction.

His heart soars.

His brain panics.

"Yeah, okay." He says, and you dip forward, pushing her into his arms. He knows how to hold a baby, held Joseph plenty, and she seems to agree, settling in against his chest, hands grabbing at his sweatshirt, tugging and trying to eat the fabric. She's light, lighter than he expected, but still sturdy, and when her lips shift into a gummy smile as she makes eye contact with him, he feels everything logical inside him shutting down.

Beautiful baby girl, and her perfect, sweet, angel of a mum.

He'll be keeping you.

He'll be keeping you both.

[leighsartworks216]

Puppy

Sylus x gn!Reader

Inspired by the quality time work/study animation when he looks up from cleaning his gun and he just looks so soft and sweet 🥺 And also from the in-game phone call "Crow"

Warnings: swearing, pet names, biting, teasing, fluff

Word Count: 1,142

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Where’s Sylus?”

The temperamental crow looked at you with one glowing red eye, beak turned away coyly. You have to wonder what kind of programming went into making him have so much attitude. It’d probably go right over your head, anyway.

“Wanna make a deal?” You keep an eye on Mephisto as you reach into your pocket, rooting around until cold metal touches your fingers. You lift the shiny metal nut like a prize. “Hm? A nice shiny trinket for you if you show me where Sylus is? What d’ya say?”

His metal wings fluttered at his side, feet stepping unsurely on his perch. But all crows are alike, mechanical or otherwise. He swoops down and snatches the metal from your fingers. You feel the brush of talons, barely escaping having your hand sliced up by an overeager metal chicken.

His caw sounds like a laugh as he leads you down the many halls of the mansion. When he stops to wait for you to catch up, he croons at his shiny new knickknack, pecking at it and staring at it from every angle with his red eyes. He glides through the open crack of a door.

You peek in first. It’s a study, with shelves lined with old paper books and vinyls. There’s a desk with guns neatly laid out on top. Mephisto perches on the accompanying chair. And on the couch, head tilted back and eyes closed, is Sylus.

You wonder if he’s really asleep this time. He’s tricked you before, but as you listen closely you hear the soft snores giving him away.

How cute, you think. A little midnight nap.

The door doesn’t make a sound as you push it open enough to slip inside. You don’t close it back all the way, and Mephisto’s wings nearly clip your head as he flies back outside of the room. That damn bird will always have it out for you, you’re sure of it.

You creep along the elegant carpet to your target, slowly lowering yourself to sit on the other end of the couch. As much as you love messing with Sylus, you didn’t actually want to wake him up now. So, being very careful, you lay down and rest your head in his lap.

“If you want to cuddle, you don’t need to sneak around for it.”

You smack his chest. “You’re such an asshole!” Your heart was racing from the scare, but you don’t get up from your new position. Sylus rewards you by beginning to comb his fingers through your hair. “Were you actually sleeping?”

He hums. There’s a gravel to his voice you didn’t notice before. “Yes, I was.” He finally lifts his head from the back of the couch to look down at you. “Until someone gave Mephisto a shiny new item for his collection.”

You chuckle despite the unimpressed look on his face. “He told on me again?”

“You’re all he seems to talk about these days,” he sighs. He brushes some hair away from your forehead. “At least it’s positive, this time.

“Did you need something from me?”

“Not really. I was just… lonely.”

He smiles slightly. “Well, I’m always happy to keep you company, sweetie.”

It’s easy to doze while he plays with your hair. He seems to know all the right spots, all the right techniques to ease your troubles away. In his care, your hair doesn’t tangle or get caught. It’s heaven.

-

When you wake up, you’re exactly where you were. Sylus’s lap was warm under you, and you wondered if his legs fell asleep at any point during your nap. If they did, he’d suffered through it for your sake.

His hand was nearly still in your hair now. It didn’t move in those perfect ministrations as before. Instead, it was almost completely still, moving at a snail’s pace along the crown of your head. You blink your eyes open to figure out why, maybe even pout and whine about it just to annoy him, but you can’t stop from just staring.

If he notices you’re awake or watching him, he doesn’t say anything. His thumb scrolls through his phone, probably looking at the latest underground news on shady deals or skimming over messages from desperate people wanting to deal with him. Something that drew his attention away from you, at least.

So you take your time drinking him in.

He’s pretty, there’s no arguments there, but it’s his own kind of pretty. It’s sharp and multifaceted, like a crystal. His eyes are intense, lashes so dark and thick it looks like he’s wearing makeup. You wonder if he does. He’d look even more gorgeous with dark red eyeshadow and sharp cat eyeliner. His lips are pressed into a thin line, soft pink drawing your eyes to them. You quickly turn your attention to the slope of his nose before he catches you.

With a sigh, Sylus closes his phone and sets it aside. His hand in your hair goes back to a normal speed, his fingers scratching at the nape of your neck as he finally looks down at you, And just like that, all that sharp beauty is replaced.

Instead of his usual intense gaze, his eyes are soft around the edges, just a little bit wider, relaxed. His lips quirk up slightly at the sight of you, softening his cheekbones. He tilts his head playfully, eyebrows raising as though asking if you’re enjoying the view.

“Puppy.”

He blinks, and it’s gone. His brow furrows, his lips dropping into a frown, eyes sharpened with suspicion. “What?”

You smirk. It’s rare to feel like you have the upper hand. You reach up and touch his cheek. He leans into it, though his expression remains.

“Sometimes you get this look on your face,” you tell him. Your thumb runs under his eye. “It makes you look soft, like a little puppy.”

He scoffs, but his lips quirk up again. “Just how long have you been waiting to use that on me?”

You hum, running your fingers down his cheekbone to his jaw. “Since I asked you to join me while I study a few days ago.” You traced the sharp cut of his jawline, tracking the movement with your eyes. “I looked up for a minute, and you were looking at me like I’d just promised to scratch you behind the ears.” To emphasize your point, you reach to do just that.

He catches your hand before you can, thumb pressed to your palm to keep your hand open. He brings your fingers to his lips, eyes watching you intently as he bites down on them, one at a time, nipping at the tips and knuckles with a smirk. “Careful, kitten,” he warns. He bites at the soft skin on the back of your hand. “This puppy bites.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe taking care of sick reader

warnings: none! fluff hi lovelies! i just got this idea while i was sleep-deprived and really just felt like writing fluff since it seems i haven't been writing it much lately ,,, and also because what i have planned next for bsf!rafe is ... well, let's just say he's gonna be in the trenches.

you were certain this was the worst you'd ever felt. you should've known it'd happen - of course, taking care of your little sister while she was sick would have some kind of consequences.

the tv in your bedroom was playing old episodes of buffy the vampire slayer, something you always watched when you were hungover or otherwise having a bad day, and apparently now whenever you were sick.

you had no appetite, and your entire body felt like it was on fire while also being ice cold, your trash can filled with used tissues, your second box of them now on your nightstand next to a cup of tea that had gone cold.

a soft knock was on your door, and you sighed, you knew that your sister felt guilty for getting you sick, but you also didn't want her to get sick all over again. "i told you, don't come in!"

but the door still creaked open, and you let out a soft sigh, the heels of your palms now pressing against your eyes. "i told you not to feel guilty that you got me sick, i don't blame you."

"i wasn't aware that i did that."

you furrowed your brows when the voice that came from the door wasn't your little sister's soft, warm voice, but instead a rough, deep voice, one you were intimately familiar with. you didn't even need to take your hands away from your eyes to know who it belonged to.

but once you did, you were confronted with your best friend's tall figure standing at your doorway, a smile on his face and a grocery bag and a bouquet of flowers in hand as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. you pulled your blanket up to your nose, aware that you definitely didn't look the best right now, only making the boy chuckle.

"why are you here, rafe?" you asked in a soft voice that was muffled by the blanket, "i texted you to tell you i'm sick."

"i know." rafe said as he slowly walked over to your bed, sitting at the edge of it. "you do know that you don't need to hide, right? i've seen you sick a million times when we were kids." the boy chuckled, slowly pulling the blanket down, revealing your face.

"then why are you here?"

"i'm here to take care of you." he said with a small smile. it was odd, you were sure you hadn't seen rafe act this gentle since you were both children, the boy now pulling things out of the grocery bag. "i brought you some crackers, and some of your favorite snacks. and, chicken noodle soup. your sister said you haven't really been eating."

"rafe, you do know that you could get sick too, right?" you asked as rafe started emptying the contents of the grocery bag, revealing an array of some of your favorite snacks, your eyes widening.

"well, if i do, i expect the same treatment from you."

you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him, "you do know that no funny business is gonna go down, right?" and the blonde simply burst into laughter. "i mean, this isn't exactly an attractive sight."

"just let me take care of you."

and even though you kept trying to tell rafe to leave, that he'd probably get sick if he stayed, but your attempts were futile, and after a while, there was a fresh bouquet of flowers on your nightstand along with a new cup of tea, you had downed the chicken noodle soup, the warmth of it calming down some of the pain in your throat, and you were both now settled in your queen-sized bed, a cold towel on your forehead that rafe had insisted you needed.

"i can't believe you're watching this again." rafe grinned, his arm lazily thrown around your shoulder as he bit into one of the twizzlers he had brought, buffy still playing on tv.

"what do you mean? it's a great show."

"mmhm. and you're sure it has nothing to do with your crush on that emo bleach-blonde vampire?"

you softly smacked rafe's chest before taking the cold towel off your forehead, now having turned lukewarm. "you know, he kind of reminds me of you."

that statement made rafe grin, turning to look at you with lifted brows, "oh, yeah? is that why you have a crush on him?"

you simply rolled your eyes, letting out a small scoff.

rafe hadn't even noticed the moment you had gone slack in his arms, still focused on the tv, only realizing that you were asleep when you let out a small, adorable whine in your sleep. he looked down at your face, so serene and beautiful, it made something in his chest ache. he'd never tell you, but the moments he loved the most were the ones like this. ones when he could just admire you without having to hide it.

he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, tugging it behind your ear before pressing a soft, feather-like kiss on your forehead, looking down at you, an aching feeling stabbing in his chest, one that was more intimate than any of the sexual aching he felt for you. and that was the moment that he really realized he was in trouble.

and in a soft whisper, he said, "i love you." hoping that the girl it was meant for wouldn't be able to hear it.

[onlyhaos]

🍲 · Sick!reader x Wonwoo , fluff

Planted in your and Wonwoo’s shared bed, you can’t help but feel exhausted. Lying under the soft sheets that are heating up your body, to an uncomfortable temperature, you want to do nothing more than escape them.

“Stay under them, love, you’re sick. You have to let all the bacteria out.” Your boyfriend spoke as he observed you, stroking your hair so that you could have the slightest bit of comfort.

“Are you hungry? Feel like eating at least something?” Wonwoo asked softly, seeing your eyes slowly fluttering back open.

A small shake of your head signaled him, that you didn’t want to. You felt too exhausted, your throat was practically scratched and you felt like you’d die any time soon.

Wonwoo felt kind of helpless. Like the scared cat he is, he was so concerned that he couldn’t help you. “I’ll be right back, baby. Close your eyes for a bit.”

So you did, closing your eyes and letting your tired body fall into a slumber again, you didn’t know that your lover had called your mom.

“Y/n,” Wonwoo quietly spoke, putting his hand onto your forehead to feel your temperature. “I made a soup for your sickness, I know you aren’t hungry, but you need to eat something.”

He made sure, that the soup didn’t have any big chunks or pieces of any chicken or vegetables in it, so you wouldn’t have to swallow that much with your sore throat.

And after helping you up, and feeding you spoon for spoon, you realized that it was your moms sickness soup.

Wonwoo kindly asked your mother to give him her recipe, because if he cooked it himself your mother wouldn’t have to come over and risk getting sick too.

“Did I make it similar to your mom’s?” He asked carefully, earning a small nod from you.

“Your fever is also going down, my baby. I’ll tuck you back into bed, after we’ve finished your soup, yeah?”

You knew that this was his love language, taking care of you. Wonwoo, your handsome lover, didn’t mind getting sick from taking care of you, as long as he knew you’d be back to your sunny self after.

౨ৎ —————— onlyhaos !!

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in ages😭😭 I’ve recently been sick, had to learn for exams and just had no time for literally anything😔 I hope I could make it up to y’all with this small fic💓

[bunnywonyo]

I THINK I READ THE WRONG PINOCCHIO

g!p puppet yujin x toy maker’s daughter! reader

synopsis: classic puppet becomes a human but instead of going out to get swallowed by a whale, this puppet fuck their toy maker’s daughter.

word count: 1.8k

tags: agalmatophilia, smut

growing up with your father, you grew to also love the toys he made. from the wooden dolls to the mini animal sculptures that he himself carved. but your favorite type of toys that your father has made were the puppets.

the puppets, there was something about them that has drawn you. it might be their realistic faces or their names or even the fact that they kept you company whenever your father goes out of town to buy toy making materials. this day is another one of those occasions when your father will be gone for a few days to buy materials.

“it won’t take long y/n, i’ll be back in no time. now you be careful here, ok? you know where our food is kept right? i also asked our neighbors to occasionally check up on you, if you run into any trouble just yell for them. also, don’t for to lock the— ”

“i know dad, we go through this every two months since i can remember, i’m already used to it by now.”

“i know, but your old man just can’t help himself. i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“It’s ok dad besides like you said the neighbors are here plus the puppets keep me company!”

"alright, but promise me you'll be careful," he added, hugging you tightly before grabbing his travel bag.

"i promise, dad," you said with a smile, hoping to reassure him. You slammed the door behind him and turned to face the room full of his works.

you approached the shelf, where the puppets were carefully placed, each with its own unique personality. there was wonyoung, the elegant princess; kazuha, the graceful ballerina; and giselle, the trendy fashionista. however, one puppet struck you the most: yujin, a mysterious puppet with hauntingly gorgeous eyes and a face that was both feminine and masculine.

yujin was by far your favorite among the countless puppets that your father has created. the way her face was sculpted to perfection, those dark brown eyes that seem to be alive, and the way her skin looks so soft despite being made of wood. her unexpected appendage down there was also a bonus(your father explained that yujin was supposed to be a boy but later changed his decision).

you reached out and picked up yujin, feeling a sense of comfort rush over you while holding her in your hands.

as the day passed by, you always had yujin by your side. whether it was to feed the chickens or to bring in the clothes that were set to dry. there was something about her that drew you in, something that, unlike everyone else, gave you the impression that you in some way, were understood.

before long, darkness fell and you had to remain indoors with your puppet companion, even though you have kind neighbors all around you, you never know when danger is around.

after making sure that you’ve locked all possible entrances, you’ve decided to light a few candles and turned on the kitchen light, creating a cozy, warm atmosphere. you then decided to cook some warm vegetable soup. the comforting aroma soon spread out through the whole house making you hum in delight.

once in a while you would glance at yujin who you propped by the dining table. the gentle flicker of the candles danced across yujin's face, giving the puppet an almost lifelike appearance. time passed by and you were soon done cooking. you prepped up the table and got all the necessary utensils to finally eat.

“yujin!! dinner’s ready!” you yelled even though you knew she was a puppet.

‘damn i must be going crazy’

sitting down, you took a sip of the soup, moaning in delight at the taste.

“you know yujin,” you started. “with you here, it doesn’t really feel lonely at all”

the puppet, unresponsive, just sat there yet her wooden eyes somehow looked like they were focused and listening intently to you.

shaking your head, you continued “i wish you were alive yuj, oh the stories i could tell you and the things we could do together.”

“you could walk independently, you could taste my cooking, you could……you could feel love—my love” you lighty ranted

but what you didn’t know was this simple wish of yours could lead to you getting any sleep at all tonight wink wink

after finishing dinner, you cleaned up the dining room and kitchen and also put away the leftovers. you did your nightly routines before putting yujin beside you in your bed.

“goodnight yuj” you say before kissing her on the lips and turning off the lights. you glanced at her one more time before closing your eyes as your consciousness drifts off to dreamland

“y/n”

“psst y/n”

“y/n wake up”

rubbing your eyes, you groaned in annoyance as your sweet slumber was interrupted.

“who is it? what happened? is the kitchen burning?” you asked but you were only answered by the sound of someone giggling.

“who the—WHAT THE FUCK!” you began to talk, but your words were cut short when you lost your balance.

falling off the bed with a bang, you landed on the floor in a tangle of bedding and limb. the force of the fall jolted you completely awake, and you sat up, scratching your head and looking around in confusion. as you struggled to get your bearings, you noticed Yujin sitting up on the bed, her eyes wide with concern. except yujin was no longer a puppet; she was fully alive, with human-like features and a concerned look.

"are you okay?" yujin asked, her voice quiet but filled with concern.

you blinked, trying to fully take in what you were seeing. "yujin? how... how are you alive?" you gasped, looking at her with surprise.

yujin looked down at herself, then back at you, equally bewildered. "i don't know," she said, shaking her head slightly. "one moment i was a puppet, and the next... i'm like this."

you stood up still trying to take in the whole situation when she spoke up again

“y/n i think it might be the kiss” she said

“the kiss?” you repeat feeling your cheeks flush as you remembered what you did a while ago

“yeah the kiss, it might’ve been some kind of magic” she explained while standing up, her tall figure towering over you.

as everything sank in, you realized how close yujin was standing in front of you. you stared at her and you could see her staring back at you. slowly, like a dream, you both leaned in. your breaths mingled, your eyes locked, and suddenly, as if driven by an invisible force, your lips touched in a soft, long kiss. it was delicate at first, but soon turned rough.

yujin placed her hands on your shoulders and deepened the kiss, her lips soft and warm on yours. your heart raced in your chest, and you felt yourself melting into the moment. before you knew it, yujin has already pushed you back to your bed, her body hovering over you.

the two of you locking lips for a while before you broke the kiss “i can’t believe this is real,” you gasped “i’ve been dreaming of this moment for a long time now.”

yujin smirks, hands squeezing your ass before replying, “me too princess, ever since i became conscious.”

you blush at the nickname before feeling something hard press against your thigh.

“yujin is this?..........” you trailed off, pertaining to the ‘thing’ poking your thigh.

“it’s exactly what you think it is princess” her smirk still there, her hand now rubbing your crotch. “i know you want this too.”

“let me take care of you” she whispered, her voice dropping an octave.

you nod in response, heart beating rapidly in anticipation. yujin’s hand moved smoothly across your bodies, slowly undressing the two you. your body shivered at the cold air when she finally finished undressing you. yujin stared at your body with a predatory gaze causing you to cover yourself with your arms. she chuckles at your attempt to cover yourself before grabbing your arms, preventing you from further trying to.

“don’t cover your body princess, your beautiful” she says as she leans to your neck, gently nipping it making you blush

with the two of you now bare, you could finally properly her length. if you had to guess, it was around 8 inches and it was quite girthy. it was veiny and had a huge prominent vein stemming from the base to the underside of the tip.

yujin positioned herself between you, looking into your eyes searching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. seeing none, she guided her length to your core.

she penetrated you with a slow, deliberate thrust, and you yelped in pleasure. yujin stopped, giving you a moment to adjust, her gaze never leaving yours. "are you okay?" she said softly, her voice full of worry and love.

"yes," you whispered, your body craving more. "please, yujin... don't stop."

with your consent, yujin starts thrusting. each thrust harder and faster than the last one, this lead to you being a moaning and panting mess.

“you like that?” she pants, sweat running down her cheeks. “you like it when i turn you into a moaning mess?”

“yes!” you gasped. “i…–ahhh love it yujin! harder please i–ahhh want more.”

hearing this, yujin smirks before gripping your hips as she increases her pace, her eyes locked straight into yours. her gaze making you feel small.

"you're mine," she whispered, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "and i'm gonna make you feel so good."

her words drove you over the edge, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. you screamed out her name, your nails clawing her back, pulling her closer as your climax came.

yujin continued to thrust into you, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she chased her release. when she finally reached it, her body tightened, a loud, guttural cry from her lips as she gushed inside you, filling you entirely.

for a few moments, you both lay there, tangled together, your breaths mingling as you came down from your high. yujin brushed a strand of hair away from your face, her gaze softening with affection that made your heart flutter.

“i know we might be going a bit too fast but i love you y/n.” she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.

you blush at her words before replying “it’s okay yuj, we’re in this together” you cup her cheeks. “and i love you too.”

yujin smiles at your words, leaning in to kiss you. “i’m gonna cherish this chance of being alive to prove to you how much i love you.” she promises.

you held her close, experiencing an overwhelming feeling of completeness and happiness you had never had before. the two of leaned in for one last before getting settled in bed to sleep.

“............”

“hey y/n?”

“hmm?”

“i think i’m getting hard again”

oh boy……..

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : THROUGH SICKNESS AND HEALTH : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: RPF

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you fall ill, Hugh arrives to care for you, bringing comfort and warmth. His presence and tender care turn a difficult night into one of solace and reassurance.

IT WAS A QUIET EVENING, THE KIND WHERE THE WORLD SEEMED TO SLOW DOWN JUST FOR A MOMENT. Rain gently tapped against the window, creating a soothing rhythm that usually would have lulled you to sleep. But tonight, sleep was the last thing on your mind.

You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, but it did little to ease the shivers that ran through you. A low-grade fever had taken hold, and every breath felt heavy in your chest. The room, which was usually your sanctuary, felt stifling, the air thick and oppressive.

Just as you were about to sink further into the couch, you heard the front door click open. The familiar sound of Hugh’s footsteps echoed softly through the hall, and moments later, he appeared in the doorway. His face was a mix of concern and tenderness, eyes immediately locking onto yours.

"Hey, you," he greeted, his voice soft and warm, like honey. He walked over, sitting down beside you on the edge of the couch. "How are you feeling?"

You managed a weak smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "Like I got hit by a truck."

Hugh chuckled softly, though you could see the worry lingering in his eyes. He reached out, gently pressing the back of his hand against your forehead, his brow furrowing as he felt the heat. "You’re burning up. Why didn’t you call me sooner?"

"I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’ve got that big project—"

"Bother me?" He interrupted, shaking his head. "You could never bother me. Work can wait."

His hand slid from your forehead to your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your chest ache. "You just focus on getting better, alright?

You nodded, feeling your eyes grow heavy with fatigue. Hugh stood up, only to return moments later with a glass of water and some medicine. He helped you sit up, holding the glass to your lips as you took small sips.

"Thanks," you murmured as you leaned back against the cushions, already feeling a bit more at ease with him by your side.

"Of course," Hugh replied, his voice still carrying that gentle tone that made you feel so cared for. He stood up again, disappearing into the kitchen for a few minutes before returning with a bowl of soup. The rich aroma filled the room, and despite your queasy stomach, it made your mouth water.

"Homemade chicken soup," he said with a proud smile. "My grandmother’s recipe. Guaranteed to cure anything."

You took a spoonful, the warmth spreading through you like a comforting embrace. Hugh watched with a satisfied grin, clearly pleased that you were eating something. He sat beside you, his presence a calming force, and for a moment, you forgot about the fever, the aches, and the chills.

After you had eaten as much as you could manage, Hugh helped you settle back against the cushions, adjusting the blanket around you. He turned on the TV, flipping through channels until he found one of your favorite shows. The familiar characters filled the screen, a welcome distraction from the discomfort you felt.

But it was Hugh’s steady hand holding yours that truly made you feel better. His thumb traced small circles over your knuckles, and every so often, he’d glance over at you, making sure you were okay.

As the show played on, your eyelids grew heavier, and soon you found yourself drifting off. The last thing you remembered was the sound of Hugh’s low voice, humming a soft tune as his hand continued to hold yours.

And as sleep finally claimed you, you knew that whatever came, Hugh would be there. His warmth, his care, his unwavering presence—those were the things that made you feel safe, even when everything else was uncertain.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! 🫶

[dearsnow]

TOO SWEET

- you discover that you mix a little too much sugar into your relationship, and jake seems to believe that he’ll turn everything sour. (jake seresin x fem!reader, angst, jake being an asshole when he thinks he’s making the right decision but what’s new, i had a real fun time writing the description ⚠️ drinking)

PART 2

word count: 785

a/n - angst city is back !! and yes there are parallels bc i’m in a parallel mood so yeah some lines are very very similar to each other. hope you guys enjoy, even though my first hangman-centric fic is a sad one lol. based on “too sweet” by hozier <3

You press your palm to Jake’s face, feeling his stubble rough against your soft skin. “You’re amazing.”

He has a pool stick in his hand, one that he sets down to pull away from your touch. Your face flushes as he takes your hand in his own and places his pool stick in your other, motioning for you to take a shot. “You’re too sweet, darlin’. Let’s prove to Chicken over here that you can be tough, too.”

“Too sweet” is something he’s called you more than once. You suppose it is true, with your gentle and kind demeanor. You just can’t help wanting everyone to be happy.

Jake Seresin is pretty much the opposite of that. He intentionally upsets people with a smile on his face, content in riling them up, and fond of perpetuating rivalries. No one ever understands why you’re attracted to him, especially not the other daggers.

You see the side of him that he rarely ever shows. The one that’s kind and caring, that understands when he goes too far and reels his aggressive personality back to shore. When he kisses you on the cheek or places his hand on the small of your back, you feel it too.

So, when he pulls you to the side of the Hard Deck, you assume he’s just going to give you another drawling compliment and skirt his hand between your shirt and the soft skin of your waist. You certainly don’t expect the words that come out of his mouth next.

“Hun, I think we need to stop seeing each other.”

Your heart stops dead in its tracks. “What?” You borderline squeak. No, this can’t be happening. Everything was so perfect just moments ago, and now the look on his face makes you want to cry. It’s laden with sympathy.

He holds your hands with gentle fingers. “You’re too sweet, baby. I don’t mean it in a bad way, but I mean, you’re way sweeter than I could ever be. You tell Rooster his shirt looks nice when it’s eye-bleeding and you mean it. I love that, I really do, but we don’t fit. We don’t make sense, and I want my relationships to make sense.”

“We do make sense.” You protest. “Opposites attract or something like that. We can make it work.”

“The thing is, we can’t. I’m gonna piss you off eventually, and you’re gonna forgive me, and it’ll just be toxic. I don’t want that for you.”

He lets go of your hands, and as the cool air hits them, they miss his warmth. His green eyes are tinged with something you could associate with sadness, just a hint of aching regret. His mouth twitches a bit, curling into his sun-kissed freckles. They wouldn’t be noticeable if you hadn’t looked at him so closely, if you hadn’t kissed along that same line a few nights ago. “And what about what I want, Jake? I want you. We can have a good relationship, I promise, we’ll find a way.”

“That’s what makes you so special. Your goddamn unwavering hope. I don’t want to crush that, sweet thing, but you have to know that it isn’t always going to work out.” His tone is softer now, but his words hit like the sharp end of a knife. You stare up at him, eyes watering.

“But-“

“It’s a no, baby. Just no.”

He turns, and for the first time, you don’t follow his movements. Your fists close around empty air.

It’s really happening. He’s explained how he doesn’t want you in a million honey-suckled ways, and more than anything, you just want to sink into his arms and cry. But you can’t, and you don’t. You move away, instead, out of the Hard Deck and out of his life, into the cold night air. When you reach your car, all you can do is sob into the shiny metal.

Jake watches you leave. He wants to run after you, to thread his fingers around yours and pull you into a kiss, but he can’t, and he doesn’t. It’s better for you, he tells himself. You sip on wine and fruity drinks while his neat whiskey is sitting on the bar, half-drunk. You deserve someone nicer, kinder, who kisses you goodbye and doesn’t scratch your face with stubble. He sees you lean against your car, forehead pressed to the car door, and he almost folds. He picks up his drink and turns to face Penny, who’s looking at him disapprovingly.

“I’m not good for her.” He tries to explain.

Penny sighs and reaches for the whiskey, topping off his glass. “You aren’t. I just wish you made it your problem instead of hers.”

Taglist: @seitmai

[ddejavvu]

eddie teaching venom about love languages <33

"Physical touch is," Eddie starts, shoulder bumped up beside yours on the couch, but Venom cuts in, head hovering over Eddie's shoulder.

"That is the one where we fuck her." Venom announces proudly, toothy grin aimed in your direction. You stifle a laugh and Eddie groans, head tosses back against the couch cushions.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's the one where we fuck her," Eddie drawls, exasperated, "But that's also, like, holding hands, kissing, that kind of stuff."

"That one is my favorite." Venom declares, "I do not care about the other ones."

"Yes you do," You counter, and Venom's milky white eyes turn to you again, "'Cause there's gift-giving. That's when I bring you chocolate. And chickens."

"I gave Eddie the gift of a decapitated man once," Venom reminisces, "But he hated it. Does that mean he does not love me?"

"That's not a gift, buddy." Eddie shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the gory memory, "That's- I mean maybe you thought that was a gift, but gifts are supposed to be nice things, like flowers or a teddy bear."

"Teddy bears are useless!" Venom roars, and you know he's only speaking out of deep-seated loathing for your own stuffed animal, which the symbiote is rather jealous of.

"I would much rather receive a head," He huffs, turning back to Eddie, "Does it mean that you do not love me because you do not give me heads to eat?"

"No," Eddie rubs a tired hand over his face, "Let's- let's just move on. Uh, words of affirmation."

"You're so handsome," You croon at Venom, who blinks as you stroke the back of your hand along his goopy cheek, "And you're a great protector, I always feel safe around you."

"See?" Eddie nods, "Just like that. Nice things you say to the person you love."

"You are very small," Venom practices, and while it's true compared to his gargantuan size, it's not much of a compliment, "And I like that you feel safe around me even though I could easily rip your head off. And eat it. You would not stand a chance."

"We'll work on it," Eddie mutters, "Alright, acts of service."

"Like when Eddie gives me a shoulder massage," You hum, stretching out the tense muscles in your neck, "Or when I wash his hair for him in the shower. That's nice things you do for the person you love."

"I am good at that!" Venom boasts, "I make you breakfast sometimes."

"Yeah," Eddie nods, voice strained, and you play along even though you know that the attending to the mess that comes with Venom's cooking is more effort than doing it yourself, "Yeah, buddy, that's good. You're right, that's really nice of you."

"I am very nice," Venom agrees, bobbing his head up and down, "Are there more?"

"Quality time-" You and Eddie speak in unison, laughing sheepishly at each other. It's Eddie that continues, "Like what we're doing now. Sitting together, talking, just hanging out and being with each other."

"When he takes me on dates, too," You chime in, your voice a soft hum, "Or when you take me around the city, big guy."

You tap at Venom's cheek and he nods, blinking once in understanding.

"I like quality time," Venom decides, the thick black ooze connecting his head to Eddie's shoulder sucking him back in until his face is nestled between yours and Eddie's. It's an odd feeling on your hair but you and Eddie hold your positions anyways, intent on drilling non-sexual physical touch into the symbiote.

"Me too," You nod, and Eddie pitches in his confirmation, "Which one is your favorite, V?"

"Mm," The symbiote hums, but it sounds more like the revving engine of a car, "I do not know. I like getting gifts, but I like sitting with you, too. I like them all."

"Too hard to choose," Eddie agrees, "You?"

"More of the same," You conclude, turning your face so that your nose nudges Venom's cheek. He purrs, not unlike a cat, sounding more engine-like than ever, and his large eyes slip shut.

"Naptime," Eddie chimes, reaching over to grab your hand in his. You smile, puckering your lips to send him a kiss that you can't press to his cheek unless you break away from Venom. He pretends to catch it where the symbiote can't see, slapping it onto his cheek and acting injured at the recoil.

"Oh," He groans while you giggle, "You throw a mean kiss."

You settle against Eddie's side, and it's odd having Venom's face in between you to where you can't rest on the man's shoulder, but he's a nice pillow in and of himself. You're only seconds away from fully drifting off to sleep when Venom's jaw moves against your face, and he whispers (terribly), "Eddie. Are you awake?"

"Yes, Venom." Eddie groans, but by the sound of his voice, he wishes he wasn't, "What do you need?"

"I decided on a favorite," Venom informs Eddie, and you listen under the guise of closed eyelids, "I like the sex one best."

You can't help it; you let out a snort.

"Nice going, V," Eddie squeezes your hand, shutting his eyes once more and attempting to get comfortable, "I'm sure that's just the answer she wanted to hear."

[thecuriousbeauty]

can you write something with cowboy harry, like a sex in a pickup truck or something like that?

Easy there, Cowboy (Cowboy!Harry x reader)

A/N:- I made this a oneshot cause once I started writing it, I just kept going. Now I understand the obsession with cowboy tropes these days. Thanks for the request, anon! Let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

Word Count: 5,131

Warnings: Smut. Oral(m receiving), fingering, penetration(p in v), dirty talk. Talks about horses and horse riding.

Synopsis: y/n decides to go home to the countryside when she gets a university break. Little does she know she'll fall in love with the new cowboy who's working in her father's ranch.

______________________________________________

You felt great to be back home. You grew up in the countryside, in your father’s ranch and around all the different animals. But your father had big dreams for you, he didn’t want you to spend your life tending to the ranch like he did. So you studied, and went off to the city to attend university. You always rush back home when you get breaks. As much as you love the city, you miss your home and its people so much.

“I might take Clover for a ride today, dad.”, you tell your father as you sit with him, eating breakfast. Your mother kept piling your plate with food, murmuring about her daughter not eating enough while being away.

“Yeah? He’s been a bit aggressive these days. The vet said he’s alright, don’t know what’s wrong with that one, cost me a fortune to get him.Thought I’d use him for the race, but I’m not so sure now.” Your dad mutters, making you frown. “That doesn’t sound like Clover.”

Clover was your favorite horse and he was always gentle to you. “Yes, see for yourself. Harry will be around when you go, just ask him if you need something.”

Your dad has talked to you a lot about Harry, the new cowboy who started working for your father. He had joined a few months back, just when you left, so you had never met him. Your mom and dad seemed to love him though. They said he’s helped bring up the profits by a huge margin. 

“Mom, I’m stuffed!”, you laugh, pulling your plate back as your mom comes with more home made sausages.

 “Eating all that city food has messed with your appetite, sweetie. You used to eat so much as soon as you got back from the ranch!”

“Because I used to get tired from helping dad.”

The ranch wasn’t too far away, so you decided to walk. You put on your boots, and got going. Your father’s ranch had all kinds of animals. Chickens, cows, sheep. But what interested you most were always the horses. And that’s where you rushed off to first. 

The earthy, dusty woodchip and ammonia laced smell of the stables reminded you of the horse races your dad used to take you to when you were young. 

“Well hello, Silver!” You greeted the first horse, who immediately greeted you with a happy neigh, nuzzling her head right onto your shoulder as you reached out to stroke her shoulder and neck, giggling. “How’re you doing girl?”

You had named most of the horses, and the method you used was their appearance. Silver is a beautiful white horse. White horses are quite rare and Silver was your family’s favorite. She has won a lot of races with her impressive speed.Your father’s very proud of having her. The only problem is that she’s getting old.

You greet the other horses, and finally make your way towards the last one, kept separate from the others, which makes you frown. 

You loved all of the horses, but this boy is your favorite. He is younger than most of the other horses, yet, he’s the only one who can beat Silver in races. He has a rich brown body with defining black shading on his legs and tail. His soft parts, such as the muzzle and eyebrows and around the flanks, are golden brown. 

“Might wanna be careful with that one, miss.”

You turned around to see the handsome young man, watching you curiously. With the long dirt covered boots, and the cowboy hat he had on, you figured he was Harry. 

Wow. You had no idea Harry was hot.

“Why’d you say that?”, you ask.

He pushes the barrel of horse feed to a side, dusting his big hands against each other. His sleeves were rolled up and you could see that his skin was inked. Just his sculpted arms made you imagine how he could use it to hold you down while-

“He’s not as friendly as the others. Doesn’t hesitate to put down whoever irritates him, which is just about everyone.”, Harry speaks, not taking his eyes off you. He had sharp jaw bones, captive green eyes and beautiful features on his face. 

Harry’s lips turned up into a smirk as he caught you checking him out and you quickly looked away. “Are you here to look at horses?”, he asks.

“No, I’m here to take Clover for a ride.”, you tell him, smiling as you look into the big beautiful caramel eyes of the horse’s, letting him know it was you, before you slowly move your hand to stroke his neck. 

“You know his name and he seems to know you, seeing as how you’re not on the ground yet.”, Harry comments. “But I would advise stepping away right about, now," he adds as you move your other hand to stroke his body. 

“Hey buddy, you miss me?”, you coo softly, grinning as the horse lowers his head down to you and you nuzzle your against his forehead. “I missed you too.”

Harry had never seen the horse being affectionate to anyone. But if he was a horse, he would definitely want to get close to you as well. You talked to the horse like you were talking to a child. 

“He’s never been aggressive around me, Harry. We rode round the hills every evening.” Harry strides right next to you, slowly putting a hand on the horse as well, and he didn’t make a fuss at all. 

“See? Just needs a bit of extra love, this one. Oh I’m y/n, by the way.” Harry smiles, already having put that together by now. Your dad always talks a lot about you, his only daughter. He never expected you to be so strikingly beautiful though. 

“Nice to meet ya, y/n. No wonder why Clover likes you, he’s fallen for your beauty.”, Harry says, making you giggle as Clover continues to nuzzle his head against you. “Lucky horse, getting to flirt with you.”

“I much prefer animals over humans, anyway.”

“Why is that, y/n?”

“Cause they don’t cheat on you, they don’t lie to you, they’re innocent and they deserve our love.” 

Harry was now very interested to know more about you. “You don’t think there are humans capable of that too?”

y/n shrugs, going to open the small door to get Clover out. “Maybe.”

“Well there are things animals can’t help ya with, ya know.”, Harry says, stepping aside as you lean down next to him to undo the lock. He sucked in a breath as he saw your ass in those tight jeans. 

“Nothing I can’t do to myself.”, you answer, getting up and turning around to look at Harry. “I’m gonna take Clover out now. Nice to meet you too, Harry.” You give him an innocent smile, and he gives you a smile back, but his mind was already having thoughts. The kind of thoughts he shouldn’t have about his boss’ daughter.

______________________________________________

You were out with some friends at the local bar, catching up. Most of them were in relationships, so you felt a little awkward after some time. You excused yourself to go get a drink. 

“Aren’t ya a fine little thing. Haven’t seen you around here before, have I?”, a heavily drunk man steps in front of you, eyeing your body up and down, letting out a low whistle.

“That’s cause I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere around you.”, you mutter, stepping aside but he blocks you with his body, letting out a laugh. “I wonder what else you can do with that mouth, little girl. Wanna show me?”

“Move!”, you snap as you try to go through his other side and he steps in front of you again. 

“Clint, leave her alone.” You were surprised to see Harry step in between you two, pushing the other man away with a hand on his chest. “She’s not interested. Go away.”

The man grumbled before going away, and the tall cowboy turned to you, his eyes looking you over. “Are you okay?”

He was not in his soiled work clothes. He had a different, cream colored cowboy hat on, and boots, but not the ones he was wearing back in the farm. The light colored shirt he was wearing fit around his muscular torso very well, and it was slightly translucent, allowing you to see that there were more tattoos on his body. 

“y/n?”

You quickly nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks Harry.”

“People around here never really change.”, he says, giving you a small smile. “You look bored.”, he notices.

“Is it that obvious?”, you let out a laugh. His eyes twinkle as he smiles. “My friends are busy snogging their boyfriends’ faces off. I was just about to get a drink before leaving.”

“Well, let me give you some company.”, he says, nodding his head towards the two bar stools at a corner.

“Oh it’s okay Harry, you must be here with your friends too-”

He cuts you off before you complete, “They’ll survive without me for a while.”

So you follow him to the bar, and you both order your drinks. “Do you wear your cowboy hat all the time?”, you ask, making Harry chuckle. “Most of the time, yeah. Is it not my style?”

“No it is, you look great-” You flinch and Harry smirks, spinning on his stool as he faces you. “Thanks, love. I think you look beautiful too.”

You know the blush is creeping up your cheeks, and you hope he doesn’t see them. “Thanks. Um, tell me about you, Harry. My parents speak very highly of you.”

“I love working for them, and they treat me well! There’s nothing much to know about me, I’m a cowboy, I love my cattle and horses.”, he says plainly. “But you, you’re interesting. What do you study?”

You tell Harry about your course in the University, and how your father didn’t want you to spend your life on the ranch like he did. 

“You must think I’m some stuck up bitch, I lost most of my friends like that.”, you say, chugging some beer from your jug. 

“No, I don’t think so at all! It’s amazing that you’re studying something you love, and it’s not like you forgot about your home. Like I said, the people here will never change, y/n, don’t think too much into it.”

You nod, smiling at him. “Now I know why my parents like you so much.” Harry wasn’t anything like the other men you’ve met. He had a broad mind set, and he was respectful.

He grinned, showing off his dimples. You haven’t been able to take that cute smile out of your head since the time you first saw it. You spend some more time talking with him, until you decide to stop on the beer. 

“I blabber shit when I get drunk. Don’t wanna embarass myself.”, you explain, and Harry laughs, swiping his hand over his lips as he keeps his empty jug on the counter. “I’m sure it’s not gonna be embarrassing, love. What do you usually blabber about?”

Your heart melted at the term of endearment, and you took a minute to answer his question. “Uhh, things on my mind at the moment.”

“Hmm. What’s on your mind at this moment?”, Harry whispers, leaning closer to you. Your eyes move to his lips. You really want to kiss those lips, throw his hat away, run your fingers through his hair while he pulls your clothes off of you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”, you answer instead.

“I really would. Think I know already but it would be much better if I can hear it from your sweet voice.” You tip your head to the side, watching him pull out some cash to pay for the drinks. “I can take care of mine-”

“My treat! Got my monthly pay from your dad today.”, he winks at you and says bye to the bartender. “Come on, I’ll drop you home.”

“Is it on your way?”

“Yes, I live on the next street.” He places a hand on the edge of the barstool, keeping it steady so you can hop off. You get out of the bar and Harry points to the truck. “That one.”

“Of course. You drive a truck.”, you nod as you follow him and he laughs. “What? Do I look like someone who drives a truck?”

He does, actually, you thought. Big and strong.

“It has a lot of space, you know, and I use it a lot for work.” He opens the passenger side door for you, offering you his hand to get in since the seat’s a little high up. You held his calloused fingers, they were rough but also really warm and strangely comforting. You realized you were still holding on to it, so you quickly dropped it.

If Harry had noticed it, he didn’t comment on it as he closed your door and went to the other side.You sat in silence for a while, until he asked you, “Do you think Silver’s the best option for the race?”

“She’s great, we use her all the time but I think Clover’s our best bet if we wanna win.”

“I think so too, he’s faster.”, Harry answers. “And as far as I’ve seen, you’re the only one who can ride him, so you should do the race instead of me.”

You turn to look at him. “Harry, you won our last race with Silver. Besides, I won’t be here that long, I’ve gotta go back to uni.”

“Oh.” His face looked a little disappointed. 

“How about we work with Clover together? I’m sure we can train him in time for the races. He’ll let you ride him. If not, Silver’s always a backup option.”

Harry slowly nodded.  “I’m using you as defense if he decides to be mean, though. That horse can kick.”

You laughed, slapping his arm lightly. “I think he just doesn’t like you!”

“Oh come on, everyone likes me! You just met me and you’re already falling for me.”

You gape, turning around fully to face him. He had a smug grin on his face. “I-I’m not!”, you say, but your face was heating up.

Harry shrugs. “Whatever you say, love.”

It was wrong. He worked for your dad. But God, as cocky as he was, it was the truth. You are falling for him, hard.

____________________________________________

“I’m gonna go get this to the houses, thanks lad.”, you hear your dad as you go downstairs. You had just woken up, but everyone else already had and they were on and about their work. 

You wouldn’t have gone down stairs in your shorts and an old t-shirt if you’d known Harry would be there. He had brought in the milk supply from the cattle for the day. You finally saw him without his hat, which was tucked under his arm. 

He had lucious brown locks, curly at the ends. 

“There she is, sleep well, honey?”, your mom asks you and Harry’s eyes shoot up to look at you. He takes in your outfit, and smiles. 

“Yes mom, good morning everyone.”, you say, going down the rest of the stairs since Harry’s seen you anyway. 

“Harry told us what you want to do with Clover and I think it’s a good idea! Nothing wrong in giving him a try.”, your dad says and you nod, looking everywhere but at Harry. “Be careful.”, he adds.

“Don’t worry dad, I’ll watch out for Harry.”, you say, making them laugh. 

“Nice to know.”, Harry says, drowning the rest of his tea and your mom takes it from him. “Thanks, Mrs.y/l/n. I’ve gotta go now, I’ll be around whenever you wanna come over.”, he tells you and you nod. 

“We have to go to the market in the evening to pick up some more fodder.” Your dad walks him out.

“Sure, I’ll bring my truck.”

You went over to the farm later, finding Harry feeding the cattle. “I liked your outfit in the morning.”, he calls out to you, making you roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, it was cute.” You grab the extra gloves laying around, putting it on and grabbing the sweeper. “Thanks! I finally saw that you have hair, I thought you were bald.”

He scoffed, and you grin before starting to sweep all the dirt. “y/n! Leave it there, I’ll do it. Don’t get yourself dirty.”

“It’s fine, I grew up doing this stuff. I’d love to let you do it, but we don’t have all day, Harry, you and Clover need all the training time you can get.”

“Yes ma’am.” You didn’t know, but Harry made a mental note to get up extra early tomorrow so he can finish all his work in time before you came over. He found himself staring at you in awe. You had tied your hair up into a high ponytail, keeping it away from your face that barely had any makeup on. 

“Pass me the shovel, Harry?”

He snaps out of his trans, getting up and taking the shovel, grabbing the sweeper out of your hands. “What-”

“-I got this, you can feed them.”

He didn’t really give you a choice so you switched places. Once you were done, you headed to the stables to get Clover. Harry kept the saddle and blanket over the horse, getting him ready as you wore your helmet and gloves. You mounted him and he trotted along, making a guttural neigh as Harry kept one hand on the bridle. He was walking alongside you, holding his helmet in the other hand.

“Be nice, Clovie.”, you rub under his neck, and look at Harry. “He likes neck rubs a lot, so if he’s getting restless, that’ll help.”

“Noted.”, Harry nodded. Once you were out to your usual spot where the horse can run free, you got down. “You gonna let Harry ride you?”, you coo, as the beautiful eyes of the horse look at yours. 

Harry carefully mounts the horse and he neighs, immediately trying to shake him off. Harry has experience with a lot of horses so he didn’t fall right away, he held on with one hand and reached to do the neck rub. 

“There you go, it’s okay, Clovie..”, you say, nodding at Harry as the horse calmed down, just a little bit.

“What’d ya say we go for a small ride?”, Harry asks the horse. Clover was clearly ready to let go and run. 

“Keep talking to him, he likes it.”, you tell him, stepping away and taking your helmet off. “I’ll wait here, come back safely!”

“If I die let my mum know that-fucking hell!” You couldn’t help but laugh as the horse took off. This was going to be fun.

______________________________________________

In the next few days, you worked with Harry to train Clover and they were looking good for the race. Clover had stopped throwing Harry off for fun, and you loved to know that Harry didn’t think he was an aggressive horse anymore. He just requires a lot of attention. 

You noticed Harry coming to your house quite often too. He would either bring something in for your mom and dad, or come to take something for the ranch, stealing glances at you whenever he came. 

You were sitting up in the balcony with a book in your hand when he came that day, and Harry was disappointed he couldn’t catch you. He was just going to his truck parked outside when you whistled.

Harry looked up with wide eyes, and grinned, but put his finger up to his lips. “Your dad’s right here!”, he mouthed and you giggled. 

“Can I come up there?”, he asks, already looking around for a way to get up without having to go inside the house again. 

“Stairs at the back.”, you tell him, pointing to the back of the house with your thumb and he runs away. 

Soon the cowboy was there to see you, tipping his hat to you in greeting. “I was hoping to run into you.”

“I’m sure you were.”, you tease. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Can’t go long without seeing me, can you?”, he teases back, stepping closer to you, backing you up to the wall.

“Nothing like that.”, you say, holding your breath as the tall man towers over you. He reaches a hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re so pretty.”, he mumbles. You blush under his gaze, keeping a hand on his chest. You both knew you liked each other and that the other knew, by now.

 “Harry. You realize what can happen if my father finds out?”

“He won’t find out.”, Harry says. “And if he does, what's the worst that can happen? I’ll lose my job. No problem, I can go work anywhere else. Cowboys are in high demand, you know.”

You shake your head, grinning as he smoothes a thumb over your cheek. “Besides, what’s life without a little thrill? I know you enjoy it. I’ve seen the way you look at me like you want me to fuck-”

You bring your other hand up to cup his mouth. “Harry!”, you whisper-shout..

He snickers. When you lower your hand he says, “Love it when you look so blushy and flustered for me.”

You hear your dad telling your mom he’s going to go out, and Harry has to move his truck or he’ll see that he’s still here. “I’ll see you tomorrow, your mum invited me over for a barbeque.”, he tells you before he goes.

You nod, and he bends down to press his lips against your cheek. Even that light touch sent shivers through your nerves, shivers that made your whole body tremble. “S-See you, Harry.”, you managed to say.

“See ya, pretty girl.” He winks and tips his hat to you again, before taking off. 

______________________________________________

Your house was filled with a lot of people. Your mom and dad love to host a barbeque party every now and then. You sat exactly opposite from Harry, both talking to family and friends, but stealing glances at each other when you had the chance.

You wore a cute yellow summer dress, and Harry wore jeans and a red shirt, leaving the top buttons open, with a bandana around his neck.

Finally, when Harry was free, he caught your eyes, giving you a look. He nods his head to the door, telling you he’ll be waiting outside. He leaves, and soon you excuse yourself to leave too.

You looked around for him, and a hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you into a closet. “Finally. God you look so amazing in this dress.”

“Thanks! I like your look too-”

He presses your hand to his crotch. “Feel that? That’s what you did to me.” He was so hard. That must have been painful. 

You were wet too. You wanted him to stuff that bandana into your mouth to keep you quiet while he fucked you. The thought made you clench your thighs together, and Harry cups your cheek, pulling you closer to him with his arm wrapped around your waist. “Can I kiss you, y/n?”

“Please.”, you whisper, and he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Your eyes close as his lips mold against yours and you respond with enthusiasm, tilting your head back as he leans in, devouring your lips. You rub your hand against his crotch, making him groan. “Shit. I’ll come in my pants if you do that.”

You started to go down on your knees, but he stopped you. “It’s too dusty. Let’s go to my truck.”

“Your truck? What if someone sees?”

You were giggling with the thrill of it as he grabs your hand and leads you out without anyone seeing. “We’ll be careful. But I can’t wait any longer, I need you.”

You got into the back of his trunk and you made him sit, while you laid on your stomach, keeping a hand on his thigh. You didn’t really have space to sit down. Harry dropped his pants and you took his dick out of his boxers, mouth watering at the sight. 

“You’re so big.”, you muttered, boosting his ego. “Thanks love, do you wanna take me in your mouth? Give it a taste?”

“Uh huh.” You wanted nothing more. You lowered your head, taking just the tip into your mouth. Harry groans at the sight, he could also see your ass this way and he flips up your dress so he can grab a handful of your ass, making you moan. You slowly take him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, one of your hands fondling with his balls. 

“Bloody hell, that f-feels so fucking good.” Harry throws his head back, his other hand bunching up your hair into a makeshift ponytail so he could hold it away from your face. “T-That’s it, baby, just like that. You know how many times I’ve dreamed about having those pretty lips wrapped around my dick?”

You take him deeper, eyes watering as his hips thrust upwards a little, making you gag. “Shit, sorry.”, he says.

 “It’s okay, I like it.”, you whisper, stroking him with your hand as you lift your head up to look at him. “Are you gonna cum, Harry? Fill my mouth up?”

“Fuck, yeah. You’re gonna take it all like a good girl, aren’t you?”, he moans as you put your mouth on him again, and he pushes your head down, your nose burying into his mound as his dick hits the back of your throat. You feel him getting close and Harry tugs you off by your hair, shooting his cum into your open mouth. You swallow it all, humming and he pulls you up to sit on his lap, bringing your lips to his again, tasting him on your tongue. 

He slips his hands under your dress, squeezing each of your breasts. You start grinding on his thigh, rubbing yourself against him. “Harry..”

“Don’t worry, baby girl, I’ll take care of you.” He brings one hand to where you most need him, pressing his fingers over your throbbing clit making you gasp. “You’re so fucking perfect, I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you.”

“Yeah? Do whatever you want to do to me, Harry.” He pulls your panties to a side, his fingers running over your folds. “You’re so wet, darling. Is this all for me?”

“Yes.” You moan as he slips two fingers inside your pussy. “I can’t wait to put my dick inside this pretty hole. That feel good, baby? Want another finger?”

“Yes, yes, please..” Harry gives you another finger, curling them to stroke against your g-spot, making you grip onto his shoulders and writhe on his lap. “I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m so fucking gone for you.”

You were cumming on his fingers soon, moaning loudly. “Yes, baby, give it to me. You sound so sweet, you know? Wonder how you’ll sound when I’m inside of you.” Harry gets you through your orgasm, continuing to move his fingers in and out of you until you smile up at him, cheeks flushed. 

He grins, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking his fingers clean. “You taste so sweet.”

“I need you inside me.”, you kiss his jawline. You couldn’t wait to feel full from his dick. 

Harry nods, and lifts you up so he can stand up. “Legs up on the seat, want you on all fours.”

You do as he said, getting on the seat and pushing your ass out. Harry groans, spreading your cheeks. “Never seen such a pretty pussy before.”

“Quick, Harry, we have to go back inside!” As much as you didn’t want to, you had to.

“Right. I’ll just have to save eating you out for later, eh?” He had to bend his head to stop it from banging against the top of the trunk, and he kept one knee on the seat for support as he brought his dick to your entrance.

You push back against him as he enters you, and you rest your head against the seat, moaning. “Oh fuck..”

“You’re so tight, god, so perfect.” He pushes his full length inside you and lets you adjust for a minute. “Fuck me Harry..” 

“Gonna fuck you so good, sweet girl.”, he promises, pulling his hips back and thrusting it forward making you squeal. He went in so deep, hitting all the right spots. You were trying not to scream. 

“Shit there’s someone outside.”, Harry says, but his movements didn’t slow down. 

“W-What?”, you were out of it, you didn’t care at this point. You wanted to cum. He took his bandana off of his neck and brought it to your mouth. “Here. Hate to muffle your pretty moans, sweetheart, but we don’t wanna get caught now, do we?”

You moan into the cloth as his fingers push it into your mouth just like you imagined, but this was hotter. “So warm and tight, best fucking pussy. I’m not gonna last much longer.”

Harry goes faster, holding onto your hips. “You gonna cum for me sweetheart?” You nod, and it only takes you a few more seconds to reach our high. Harry pulls out when you’ve finished, stroking himself as you turn around. He takes the bandana out of your mouth and holds your jaw open with one hand, the other shooting his cum down your throat again.

You swallow it all down, and Harry collapses next to you on the seat. You both catch your breath, and smile lazily at each other. “That was good.”, you say.

“Never thought I’d take a sexy girl in the back of my trunk.”, he said, and you roll your eyes. Harry reaches to grab a cloth from the front and wipes around your mouth and neck. You fix your panties, dress, and your hair. 

“Do I look okay?”, you ask him.

He smiles, cupping your cheek for a quick kiss. “Perfect.”

You both get out of the trunk, and he mutters in your ear, “I’ll top this off next time, promise.”

“Next time huh?”, you say and he smirks, playfully smacking your ass. “I know how well you can ride horses, maybe you can show me how you ride something else.”

You gasp, turning around to hit his chest as you were now walking towards people and they couldn’t hear what was coming out of his dirty mouth. “Easy there, cowboy.”

______________________________________________

Taglist:-@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777, @madstyles3204

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[baby-yongbok]

Look At Me

Han Jisung x Afab!Reader

☼ Genre: Fluff ☼Summary: Jisung is just your friend... right? ☼ Word Count: 1.2k ☼ a/n: This is set up in a retail kind of setting. I pictured Target cause I used to work there 😭. I didn't edit this cause I'm running around like a headless chicken to prepare for vacation. I hope that you enjoy!

✧ Masterlist ✧

Jisung is just your friend. Your favorite co-worker and the only person on your 7pm to 11pm shift that can make you smile. 

Jisung is just your friend that you’re always teamed up with to collect the carts from the parking lot before the store closes. He makes a game out of it, chasing you with carts and racing you to the front of the store. Sometimes when the parking lot is nearly empty he picks you up and puts you in the last cart that he collects. His arms wrap around you with a soft but firm grip as his chest vibrates with laughter, you love it… platonically of course.

Jisung is just your friend that brings you coffee before every shift. Your heart broke when you started to cut down caffeine. You thought that that would end his sweet gestures but he surprised you by bringing you an herbal tea instead, his favorite flavor that he hoped you’d like. Since he likes it you love it.

Jisung is just your friend that comes up behind you when he sees you struggling to get something off of a taller shelf. His hands grounds your hips and his back is against yours as he tells you to let him give it a shot. The small grunts that thrums through him as he stretches himself behind you makes you hot. He chuckles when he realizes that he’s too short to reach it too. “I’ll go get a ladder since we’re both tiny.”

Jisung is just your friend who gives you one of his wireless earbuds when you’re working in the same department. He shared a playlist with you on Spotify so that you can both DJ while you’re organizing the aisles. You can hear him humming along from the opposite side of the aisle, he sounds better than the song in your ear. So much better that you turn the music down until he’s almost all that you can hear. 

Jisung is just your friend who holds your hand to guide you through the crowd of the Saturday afternoon rush. He twists and turns and dodges children running around the busy store with you close behind him. He stops to answer questions, turning to you with an adorable furrow when he doesn’t remember where something is. He holds your hand all the way until you get to the break room. “I can finally breathe.” He jokes as he lets your fingers fall from his. “Let’s hide in here, yeah?” He smiles at you and you at him. 

Jisung is just your friend who buys you lunch on random days throughout the week. He’ll disappear from your section minutes before lunch is supposed to start then he’ll pop up in the break room with your favorite stuff. Whatever you’re craving is what he’s buying. “I just want you to eat well. You worked hard today, you deserve it. Now eat before they throw us back out there.” 

Jisung is just your friend who's never spoken a word about his girlfriend. Does he have one? Is he single? You don’t really care… cause you’re not into him like that but you’re curious. He’s cute, really cute so he couldn’t possibly be single, right?

Jisung is just your friend. He’s your very single friend. “I haven’t dated in months. After my ex moved I just wanted to focus on myself, ya know?” The two of you are pushing carts filled to the top as he ponders his thoughts. “I could start seeing someone now but I think that I’m just waiting for the right person to look at me.” He looks over at you but you’re staring down at your cart. He smiles to himself.

Jisung is just your friend who drives you home on nights when your shift runs a bit later than it should. “Can’t have a pretty girl like you walking home near midnight.” You always blush when he teases you. He opens the passenger door for you with a cute small smile and you look away from him. Why does he always make you blush so hard?

Jisung is just your friend who turns up his radio and sings along to the song he’s been wanting to show you for days. He says that it’s his new favorite but you notice that it’s not what he typically likes. It’s softer and slower than his usual taste. You ask him what he likes about it as he turns onto your block.

Jisung is just your friend who looks you in the eye once he parks “It reminds me of you.”

Jisung is just your friend. Jisung is just your friend. He didn’t mean it like that .

Jisung did mean it like that. He turns towards you, shifting in the driver's seat and pushing his hair out of his face. He turns the radio down so that you can hear him. He needs you to hear him. “I know that we’ve been friends for awhile and I’ve loved every second of that but I don’t think that I wanna be friends anymore. I wanna know if you’ll allow me to be more than that.”

Jisung is not just your friend, he's the boy that you’ve had a crush on for months and he’s confessing to you right now. He’s making your heart race and your leg shake and your mouth dry. He’s looking over at you with hopeful eyes hoping that you’ll say yes to him or anything at all at this point.

Jisung is your crush that you’d be a fool to turn down. You muster up all of the courage hiding within you to sit up straighter and talk to him. You work yourself up to confess right back. Words start to form and you slowly push them out of your mouth, molding each one as perfectly as you can in the moment. “I would love for you to be more than that.”

Jisung is your crush who smiles to himself when you confess but you miss it, you’re looking away from him like you usually do when he makes you feel like this. When he makes you feel like you’re hugging the sun with a butterfly garden in your stomach. He thinks it’s cute but he wants to see your eyes. He wants you, the right person, to look at him.

Jisung is your crush who leans towards you and gently reaches for your hand that’s resting on your shaking knee. The touch snaps your attention over to him. Your eyes are finally on him. “Could you say that again? But this time, will you look at me? I wanna see your pretty eyes when you confess.” Your gaze wavers and he chuckles, fuck you’re so cute. “I’m over here.” He teases, big boba eyes shining as they try to find yours. 

You’re looking at Jisung, sparkling eyes staring into each other when you confess again. His hand holds yours as he pulls you through the emotions you’ve been storing away in your chest. He pulls you right into this moment, grounding you with his gaze and sharing beguiling smiles. 

Jisung was just your friend but now he’s so much more. 

Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed!

Likes, Reblogs and Comments make my day! Thank you for all support, it keeps me going!

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[fatkish]

Hi!! 🐶 anon here. Was wondering if I could request a sort-of sequel to the last fic I requested? Like the reader after being rescued by him has separation anxiety from him and their therapist recommended for now reader stays close by him, so he’s taking a break from hero work, but for teaching he just brings reader along? So basically 1-a seeing reader being clingy and stuff with Aizawa. Maybe they experience a PTSD episode, idk. Just something like that! Take ur time with this request ^^;;

Aizawa x SA Victim Reader Part 2

After going to a therapist for a few months, the therapist decided that it would probably be best to slowly reintroduce you to social situations

Since Aizawa was the only person who you seemed to trust wholly and entirely, your therapist suggested that he work with you

The first few activities were simple enough

A walk in the park, literally, you both held hands or stuck together as you spent an hour in the public space

The next was a picnic in the park, Aizawa had made Bentos for the both of you. They had chicken Katsu on top of fried rice and for sides he put stir fired vegetables and some seaweed wrapped tamagoyaki. He brought a blanket with you guys as well as drinks and you both sat together and ate your lunches

Plenty of women would giggle seeing such a cute seen of a father and daughter

After a couple of these outages your therapist suggested slightly more densely populated areas

So your next adventure was grocery shopping with Aizawa. He promised you that you didn’t need to worry or feel paranoid because he’d be watching your back

You were slightly anxious when walking down aisles that other people were in but you simply held Aizawa’s hand and persevered

After each outing Aizawa would give you a soft smile and tell you how well you did and how he’s so proud of you

If you panic or freak out, he’ll pick you up and have you focus on him, and tell you that you’re safe because you’re with him and he won’t let anything hurt you

During one of the grocery trips, a kind old lady remarked about how cute it was seeing a little girl with her dad

After giving you a compliment the old lady offered you a candy to which you looked at Aizawa to see if it was okay. He smiled and gently nudged you forward and you accepted it and thanked the lady.

After a few more outings at places like grocery stores, restaurants, the mall basically just any place where people are closer together, and after having a few interactions with people, your therapist thought it was time to focus on social interactions

For this, Aizawa begrudgingly agreed to getting you a service/guard dog. Basically the dog would stay at your side and alert to any potential threats and lead you away. If you had a panic attack, the dog would sit or lay on you and help ground you. If someone tried to attack you, there were specific words in a foreign language that would tell the dog to attack

Now that you had this dog, Aizawa decided it was time he returned to teaching

The first thing he did was introduce you to the teachers. Coincidentally, Vlad kind had brought his bulldog in that day. You immediately warmed up to his dog and was somewhat okay with him since he kinda looked like his dog

Later you met Nedzu who you immediately had the urge to pet. Aizawa thought Nedzu would be mad when you pet his head and asked if he was Mickey Mouse’s cousin

Nedzu laughed and smiled not bothered at all by your curiosity, infact, Nedzu was more than happy to help teach you and satisfy your curious mind

After a few days getting to know the school, Aizawa decided to introduce you to his class

This is when things went south

Despite having warned his students (particularly a certain grape head) about your past and to be careful with their words, some obviously didn’t get the memo

Upon entering the class, many had greeted you which spooked you a bit

The first students you were comfortable with were Asui, Momo, Koda and Todoroki

Asui and Momo seemed very mellow and almost motherly in their calm and relaxed demeanors. Todoroki was quite and greeted you once but then seemingly ignored you which actually made you feel good because you felt that it meant he wouldn’t come after you. Koda was quite but your dog seemed to like him which is why you trusted him

The students had tried not to scare you but Iida, Bakugou, Ashido, Uraraka, Kirishima and Kaminari had spooked you

Ashido had practically jumped on you telling you how cute you were which scared you, Uraraka, and Iida were really loud which scared you. Kirishima didn’t really understand personal space to which Kaminari tried to tell him off, albeit, a bit loudly, which them prompted Bakugou to use his quirk setting off explosions and yelling at everyone to shut up cause they’re obviously scaring you

When the class went quiet it allowed for you to hear what Mineta had said

Of couse, he had to make a comment about how hot you’d look in a few years as he imagined you with a curvaceous body whilst making a lewd face and drooling

This triggered you

Bakugou immediately slammed his hand down on Mineta’s desk setting of small explosions and yelling at him

You started to hyperventilate and ran away to Nedzu’s office since he made you feel calm

When Nedzu saw your upset state he made you some tea and offered you some cookies while he asked you yes or no questions

Whilst Nedzu calmed you down and talked with you, Aizawa yelled at his students and decided that something had to be done with Mineta. Once he managed to get his class back under control, he was about to deal out punishments when the door opened with Nedzu in front and you behind him

You ran to Aizawa and he immediately wrapped his arms around you. Nedzu then walked into the room and nodded at Aizawa, giving him permission (read as kindly ordered him) to leave the room

As Aizawa cradled you and walked you to the teacher’s lounge to settle you down, Nedzu asked the class what happened and after lecturing them for 2 hours, Nedzu finished his lecture by Expelling Mineta and blacklisting him from any hero courses

That night, Aizawa made sure to have your favorite food for dinner and made sure that you felt safe and gave you all the cuddles you could ask for

(Hope you enjoyed this puppy 🐶 anon. And I hope it helps)

[luveline]

do you think you could do something with zombie au where reader is on her period? thank you!!

thank you for your request! fem, 1k

You’ve gotten your period three times since the apocalypse began. The first time, you and Steve were just beginning to get along, and he’d proved why you trust him as you do, treating the whole thing with kindness. More recently, he’s your unofficial boyfriend. Like, kissing you and holding you, but foregoing the conversation that would make you an official couple. 

Either he doesn’t want to be official (which is fine, it’s not like he’s going anywhere), or you’re official without words. You’ve assumed the latter because the former makes you nauseous. 

Not that you need much help in that department. Your stomach churns like a tide, bouts of sickness and pain that hit you rampantly as you follow Steve downstairs. 

“Can I take my shoes off?” you ask. 

“Why are you asking me? It’s not my house.” Steve descends the last step and holds his hand behind him for you. Seemingly to help you down a step you don’t need help with. 

You’re asking because taking your shoes off means getting comfy for the night, and he doesn’t want to do that at every house you break into.

You don’t explain yourself. You follow Steve into the living room, hoping he’s going to take your hand again. He nudges you with his hip into a mildly dusty couch. 

You sit. “What, are we gonna watch TV?” you joke. 

“You look sickly.” 

That’s not nice. “I do?” you ask, all teasing gone from your tone. You often wish you were much prettier, and occasionally beg fate to drop a bottle of medical grade body wash into your lap, if just to make Steve see you that way. But Steve’s kissed you with a greasy nose and blood on your chin. You were hoping appearances didn’t matter. 

“You look awful,” he says, his eyebrows stitching together as he heads into the kitchen. “Stay sat down!” 

“Awful?” you ask. 

He doubles back, face peeking around the doorway. “Not like that,” he says hurriedly. “Just, sick. I’m gonna cook you something.” 

“I don’t need to be sat down, I’m fine.” 

He disappears again. “That why you’re glaring at me?” he calls, his voice echoing against tile. 

You don’t have the energy for whatever it is that’s happening. You kick your legs out on the couch and begin kneading the swollen mess that is your stomach, debating on telling him why you’re grumpy. It’s not like he cares. He never finds it gross, but you don’t want him to pity you either. It’s just a period. 

(It really sucks.) 

“Alright, the hot plate is on,” he calls. “What do you want, huh? We got the split pea soup, or the chicken casserole?” He laughs. “The casserole, duh. Ten minutes and it’s yours.” 

Your breath rushes out through your nose. Stomach hurts, head hurts, he’s making you dinner and laughing where you can’t see him. You force yourself to get up, shuffling to the kitchen with a pout already in place. 

“Ten minutes is not right,” you say, announcing your movement so he doesn’t stab you. 

“Is too right. How come you never listen?” 

“Steve, please don’t be mean to me, I’m on my period.” You wince as a pang climbs your back. 

“Oh, you are?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Well… I’m glad, sort of. Better that then the flu, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

A couple of weeks ago, he would’ve told you to go back to the couch, and he would’ve brought your food in to you, wrapping a blanket over your legs and leaving you to it. But this is now. Your unwilling protector has gone remarkably soft on you. 

“Is it like last time?” he asks, holding out his arm. 

You drift toward him, pretending it isn’t to be hugged. “It hurts, if that’s what you mean.” 

“It hurts,” he repeats in a murmur as his arm finally curls around your waist. He pulls you into his side.

“You’re pitying me.” 

“You like it,” he jokes, his tone still held in that soft murmuring. 

You close your eyes, driving your nose into his chest. The hot plate gurgles weakly on the stove, using the last of a canister of camping gas, a few days from the end of its life. Your eyelids feel heavy closed, achy not with tears but fatigue, and your head aches with a migraine you know from experience won’t be defeated using tylenol. But Steve hugs you with one arm and leans against you as you press into him. Stuck together. He doesn’t move for ages. 

“I’m glad I don’t get my period,” he says. 

“You act like you do.” 

“Were you not gonna tell me? I guess you don’t have to, but if you’re in pain, I’d like to know.” 

“Don’t need you to feel any more sorry for me.” 

“I don’t. Just like rubbing your back.” 

Your heart skips a beat. That’s as close to a confession of feelings you’ve ever gotten from him. Well, verbally. His sporadic kissing says a lot. 

“Thanks for telling me,” he says. You have to strain your ears to hear him. “I don’t think there’s much iron in chicken casserole. I wish we… How much iron is there in squirrel?” 

“I don’t wanna eat squirrel.” Again. 

“It’s good for you.” 

Doubtful. You turn completely into his touch and hug him. “Please don’t make me eat squirrel.” 

You sound a teeny tiny bit pitiful, and you earn yourself an even better hug than the first. “I won’t, I won’t, I was just kidding,” he promises, “I just figure you need it. Maybe if we look through the medicine cabinet they’ll have some multivitamins or something.” His hand grabs at your side. It’s not a careful touch, though he’s far from spiteful. “You need painkillers, right? I could crush a Vicodin into your casserole.” 

“Yes, please.” 

Steve’s nose presses into the side of your face. You feel close to him in a way that chokes you up, but you don’t need to talk any more. 

“Half a Vicodin,” he deliberates, “and I’ll rub your back.”