#little doodle to help me stay awake

[shhwsper]

ugh i hate this guy

[xay2jang]

havent really drawn in a long while :/ havent even watched much detco. however i Have been messing around with ms paint in class when im supposed to be doing introduction to multivariate analysis so im at least not completely 100% dead!!

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact Marked by the Sea

Summary: In which Neuvillette is your soft husband, a loving one with some dragon tendencies. 

or, here are snippets of a domestic dragon husband. 

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN! Reader! 

Note: Going through my drafts and yes, I had a Genshin phase

Warning: Lots of fluff >.< because we love our hydro dragon sovereign. 

★・・・・・・★

“You’re staring again,” you murmur sleepily.

Every morning, you wake up to long white messy hair on your face and sometimes, even purrs coming from your beloved husband. 

Neuvillette tightens his arms around your waist. 

“I’m simply…appreciating.”

“You’re very clingy for someone who acts like the world’s most composed man in public,” you tease, turning in his arms.

He presses his face into your neck. 

“You’re the only place I feel at peace.”

Your fingers comb gently through his hair.

A soft whine escapes him. 

“Stay with me a little longer.”

“Love, you have to go now.” You managed to sit up and let out a small yawn. You eyed the clock, and realized that it’s time to get ready for the day. 

“Must we get up?”

Neuvillette’s voice was muffled against your hip, arms still around your waist.

You laughed, gently tugging him upright. 

“You’re the Chief Justice. Pretty sure pajamas aren’t court-appropriate.”

You quickly pull him out of bed and help him wash his face and teeth. Help him clean up and look like the respectable Chief Justice everyone knows. 

He blinked at you, bleary-eyed, letting you button his shirt. 

“Now arms up.”

He obeyed, now a bit more awake, but his head thunk on your shoulder. 

“You’re too good to me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased, guiding him to the kitchen.

He sat, still drowsy, while you went to make a quick breakfast. His eyes lit up the moment he saw the carefully packed lunch.

“You made soup again…” he murmured, picking up his spoon. 

“You know me too well.”

You peck his cheek.

“Someone has to make sure you eat something that isn’t stressful.”

Neuvillette caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I don't know I would do without you.” You raised a brow. 

“Dramatic.”

“Truthful,” he said, giving you that soft look that made your chest ache. 

“I’d be lost without you.”

You poured him water, leaning in close. 

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”

He hummed, content, and smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

The courtroom echoed with voices, petitions, disputes, and lies dressed as truths.

Neuvillette listened, silent and unreadable as always, yet the weight of it pressed heavily on him today.

Humans, no feelings are difficult to understand for Neuvillette. 

During a short break, he retreated to his office. He didn’t expect peace, but when he opened the simple wooden box you'd prepared for him that morning, the tightness in his chest eased.

Carefully arranged: poached fish, soup, soft rice, steamed greens. And nestled beside it, a folded note.

“Don't forget to eat. And breathe. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

You’d drawn a little doodle of him, half-asleep with his hair floofed.

He stared at it for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile touched his lips.

He took a bite of the fish. Light, clean. Just the way he liked it. His heart unclenched, if only a little.

You always knew what he needed before he did.

He tucked the note back into his coat pocket, among the many others.

Then he returned to the courtroom, still weary, but a little steadier.

You found him hunched over his desk, buried in paperwork. Rain tapped on the windows like it was echoing his mood.

Silently, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"...You always find me,” he murmured after a pause, voice tight. “Even when I don’t want to be found.”

“You don’t really mean that,” you whispered, resting your cheek against him.

When it got late, you knew Neuvillette was stuck at work, being the workaholic he is. 

He didn’t argue. Just exhaled shakily, fingers clutching a paper like it had wronged him personally.

“Why are they like this?” he asked. “Humans. So much… cruelty and lies.”

You held him tighter. You knew sometimes these cases could be too much to listen to, after all, people only go to court for frustration, guilt and confessions. 

“Because we’re messy. But we’re capable of kindness too. You don’t have to understand all of it. You just have to be you.”

“But I’m not human,” he said, looking up at you. “How can I judge them if I don’t understand them?”

For a moment, you hesitated because you remembered the time he told you about his true identity, but even then, you never cared for it because you truly loved this man dragon from the moon and back. 

“You don’t need to be them to care,” you said gently, brushing his hair back.

“You’re already doing more than most. That’s enough.”

A deep breath before he turns in his chair and buried his face into your chest. 

You didn’t speak. Just stroked his hair, kissed his temple, and held him. 

“…Thank you,” he whispered. Then he tipped you down and you let him. He kissed you, slow, tender, like you were sunlight and he hadn’t seen the sky in days.

When he finally pulled back, he glanced toward the window.

“…The rain stopped,” he said, almost in disbelief. You smiled, running a finger along his jaw. 

“Told you. You just needed to let someone hold you for a while.”

He smiled, really smiled, and leaned in for one more kiss.

“My heart listens to you more than it does me.”

Another day, another migraine as you would sometimes say. 

"Neuvi, you need a vacation."

He had meant to protest, he always did, but the look in your eyes had silenced him more effectively than any decree. It wasn’t disappointment or frustration. 

It was care. Concern. Love.

He sat at the edge of the bed, fingers absently tracing the letter you had slipped into his coat earlier. He unfolded it now, reading your familiar handwriting:

“You are allowed to rest, Love. You are allowed to be more than the Chief Justice. Let me take care of you.”

He closed his eyes.

For centuries, he had carried so much. 

Dignity. Duty. Distance. 

And yet you, gentle, persistent, loving you, had chipped away at his solitude like water to stone, reshaping him with kindness.

Perhaps...just this once...

He let out a slow breath. And then, deliberately, he stood, walking to the open balcony. 

The moon was dim tonight, and the streets were empty except the automatons guarding the city. With one smooth motion, he shifted, scales rippling over his skin, horns glinting, wings unfurling into the night air.

A dragon once more. It felt liberating despite only showing his half dragon form. 

And as he looked down at the palace below, a deep, low growl rose in his throat. He wanted to take you far away from this place. 

From politics. From judgment. From all the noise.

He wanted to keep you close. Closer than ever.

He took to the skies and took a deep breath.

Perhaps...a vacation has been long overdue. 

After months of court and chaos, Neuvillette finally, finally, listened to you.

You had never been so excited as you pulled out your notes and forgotten plans of just hanging out without work looming over your heads. Still, you wanted it to be relaxing for your dragon husband because you wanted this to be all about him! 

He deserves rest and you would make sure he gets spoiled! The first thing you did was just take him away from the palace and into the Fontaine wilderness, where it would just be you, him, and the sea.

What you didn’t expect was to see Neuvillette showing off in his half dragon form.

You watched as he shifted, wings unfurled, silver-blue scales gleaming in the sun, and you swore you saw him breathe for the first time in weeks. 

No courtroom. No robes. 

Just Neuvillette, in all his dragon majesty, curling his massive body around you in a protective sprawl. 

“You’re hovering,” you teased when he kept nuzzling you every time you moved an inch too far.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated through his chest. 

“You wandered out of sight for two minutes.”

“You sound like you were ready to drown someone.”

“I was.”

Each day, he softened. The weight on his shoulders lightened. 

You massaged the tension from his back, whispered reassurances into his neck, and watched him melt under your touch.

But as the days passed, something changed. His touches grew bolder. His gaze lingered longer.

At night, in human form again, he’d pull you close, hands trembling just slightly. 

“Tell me I’m allowed this,” he murmured once, voice rough and low as his fingers trailed your spine. 

“Tell me I can want you.”

“You’re allowed everything, Neuvi,” you whispered against his lips. “Especially me.”

He kissed you slowly, starting off with gentle kisses before turning desperate, with whispered promises.

By dawn, you lay tangled together beneath his draped wing. His breath is warm at your nape. His arm locked around your waist.

“You’re not letting go, are you?” you murmured, half-asleep.

A hum. 

“Never.”

You could say the same. 

The sky was streaked with pink when you tugged Neuvillette’s hand. 

“Beach walk,” you said. “Doctor’s orders.”

He let you lead him, fingers laced with yours, quiet as ever, but relaxed. Peaceful.

The sea air suited him. Personally, you liked that he was out of his “judge” outfit, and in a more shirt and pants. 

Then you spotted them.

“Otters!” you gasped, pointing excitedly at the group rolling around in the surf. One, in particular, caught your eye, blue-gray fur, an almost regal posture, and sharp eyes surveying the world.

You burst into laughter, as you quickly led Neuvillette to them. 

“Wait, look! That one looks just like you.” Neuvillette blinked. 

“You think I look like an otter?” You nodded as you looked back and forth. 

“Same dignified vibe. Same colours. Same mysterious energy. Very composed. Very you.”

He gave you the most bewildered expression. 

“I...see.”

You giggled and crouched near the water’s edge, where the otters now swarmed, squeaking little “kyu” noises as they playfully nuzzled you.

Neuvillette stayed behind, watching. Silent. Still.

One of the otters nestled into your lap, eyes closed in bliss. You cooed at it.

And he frowned.

“…They’re quite clingy,” he muttered, barely audible.

You looked up. 

“Are you… pouting?”

“I am not,” he said, a touch too quickly. 

“Merely observing. They seem rather… attached.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile. 

“You are jealous.”

“I am not jealous of an otter,” he said stiffly, before stepping forward and sliding his hand into yours, gently pulling you up and into his side. 

You laughed, letting him pull you close. 

“Jealous much?”

“I prefer ‘protective.’” 

You smiled up at him. 

“Don’t worry. No amount of adorable otters could ever take your place.”

He exhaled slowly, brushing a hand through your hair, gaze softening. 

“Good.”

Still, you made him take photos with otters anyways. 

And now Neuvillette sees it all the time on your nightstand. 

While he judges it all the time, you know that Neuvillette could never be mad at otters forever.

One night, you lay on deck beside Neuvillette on a ship. The lakeside is quiet, with the moonlight catching in his eyes, stormy and somehow intense. 

What was he thinking about even on vacation?

His fingers traced your skin slowly, pausing at your neck.

“You always touch there,” you whispered.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss to the spot.

“It’s my favorite place,” he murmured. Then softer, with a hint of hesitation. 

“May I leave a mark?” Your breath hitched as he leaned over you, staring at you intently, making you feel like you were in the eyes of a dragon.

“A mark?” You asked, breathless. 

“A symbol. A promise.” His eyes didn’t waver. 

For a moment, you simply stared into his eyes, a little pensive. Neuvillette caught your hesitation but did not falter. 

“In dragonkind,” Neuvillette explained softly, “a mark is a symbol, but also a bond. One created from instinct, will, and power. When a dragon marks someone, it means they’ve chosen them as mates.”

“Mates?” You blinked, your heartbeat fluttering.

He nodded. “More than that. It’s a soul-deep tether. A dragon only marks once in their lifetime. Once we do… that bond cannot be undone. No matter time, distance, or circumstance, our hearts remain bound.”

Your lips parted slightly as you looked into his eyes, searching. 

“So…you can’t ever choose someone else?”

“No,” he murmured, “Even if you walked away, even if I never saw you again…I would remain yours. That is how dragons love. We don’t fall often. But when we do, it’s forever.”

You were silent for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. Then, with a soft smile, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his.

“Forever sounds nice.” You leaned back, exposing your neck to him. 

“I trust you.”

You heard him suck in a breath before he swallowed.

“I love you.” You widen your eyes in surprise, he had never said it so explicitly before, which made it all the more special.  

He kissed your neck, warmer this time, and whispered something ancient, words that shimmered like falling rain. Then, he bit down, making you shiver and gasp, but he held you close, making sure you felt comfortable yet safe in his arms. 

A pulse of hydro energy flowed through you, cool and comforting. You felt it settle, and when he pulled back, a glowing symbol remained, blue and silver, delicate yet powerful.

“It’s done.” He looked so relieved, content and satisfied before kissing the mark again. 

You touched it, awed. 

“It’s beautiful…”

“So are you,” he said, reverent. 

“It binds us. Now and always.” You met his gaze. 

“I was already yours.”

“As I am to you,” he said, pulling you close. “But now the world will know too.”

He kissed you then, deep and slow, as if sealing the bond with his very breath.

From that night on, the mark stayed. And every time Neuvillette saw it, his eyes would soften, and he’d kiss it again, like a quiet vow, Mine.

[lalo0]

INSIDE AESPA EP. 5┃ A little more real

Male reader x Winter Word count: 6.8k Tags: squirting, sensory depravation, temperature play, dirty talk, teasing PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

Ningning was still curled against me when the light started to change.

Just a thin stripe of gray through the curtains, but enough to make me realize how long we’d been lying there. Her breath had evened out, slower now, but her fingers were still resting over my ribs like she wasn’t ready to let go.

I wasn’t either.

I traced small shapes across her back—half-aware of the soreness in my arm, the ache in my hips, the smell of sweat and skin and sex still clinging to both of us. The sheets were damp. The room was quiet.

And Giselle was gone.

I didn’t hear her leave. But the door was closed.

Ningning shifted against my chest, mumbling something I didn’t catch. I pressed my lips to the crown of her head and whispered, “Go back to sleep.”

She didn’t. Just sighed and let herself go soft again.

It wasn’t awkward. Not yet. But the weight of everything we’d done last night was still hanging in the air. It was... complicated.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that—wrapped up, still tangled in each other—but eventually Ningning stirred and whispered, “You’re warm.”

“You’re clingy.”

She smiled against my collarbone. “Not denying it.”

Her hand drifted down a few inches, fingers teasing along my stomach, and for a second I thought she was going to start something again. But then she stopped, let her hand settle.

"Guess it's morning," she murmured.

“Barely.”

She rolled onto her back, stretched, and winced. “Okay, maybe I overdid it.”

“You? Never.”

She looked at me, eyes still sleepy but sharp. “You should get cleaned up. You look like a crime scene.”

“Thanks.”

She laughed and threw the sheets off herself. Her body was marked in places—faint bruises, scratches, the ghost of red lines where restraints had been. She didn’t cover them. Just moved across the room with the casualness of someone who had nothing to prove.

I stayed in bed, watching her dress. Still naked. Still not sure what today was supposed to be.

When she was halfway through tying her hoodie around her waist, she glanced over her shoulder.

“You staying for breakfast?”

I hesitated. “Is that a thing here?”

“Depends on who’s cooking.”

“And who’s awake.”

She shrugged. “Come find out.”

Then she left.

I lay there for a minute after she left.

The room felt bigger without her in it. Too big. Too quiet. The sheets were still warm where her body had been, but the weight was gone. My body ached in good ways and bad. Muscles worn. Mind fuzzy. My neck still smelled like her perfume, and it hit in a way I wasn’t expecting.

This wasn’t regret.

But it wasn’t simple either.

I sat up, ran a hand through my hair, and took stock. Clothes scattered. Rope on the floor. One of the cuffs still clipped to the bedpost. A pair of panties halfway under the dresser—probably Ningning’s. I didn’t feel the urge to laugh. Just breathed.

It had been a night.

I got up and headed to the bathroom.

The mirror didn’t pull any punches. My hair was wrecked, lips still a little swollen, collarbone scratched. I turned the water on cold and splashed my face. It helped. Not much.

By the time I stepped out again, the house felt different.

Not quieter—just more awake. There was the faint sound of a cabinet shutting. A few distant footsteps. No voices. No music. But someone was up.

I followed the sound toward the kitchen and stopped just outside the doorway.

There she was.

Winter. Standing by the stove, back to me.

Hair tied up in a messy knot, wearing navy sweats and a cropped white hoodie with the sleeves pushed to her elbows. No socks. Just quiet movement, mug in hand, stirring something in a pan like she did it every day.

I blinked. Then I noticed the note on the fridge on the hallway.

“Company meeting. Left early. Winter wanted the place to herself. Don’t bother her. Eat something or I’ll make you.” — Ningning”

There was a little doodle next to the heart. A cat, maybe. Or a strawberry. I couldn’t tell.

I stayed in the hallway a bit longer than I needed to. Just watching. Listening.

Then I stepped inside.

She didn’t turn.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t act surprised that I was there.

I stopped near the doorway.

Winter lifted the pan and scooped scrambled eggs onto a plate like it was any other morning.

Then, without turning:

“Hungry?”

I hesitated. “Yeah. Kind of.”

She nodded once and reached for another plate.

She moved like she was alone.

No tension in her shoulders. No hesitation in her movements. Just a quiet rhythm to everything—lifting plates, sliding toast onto them, pouring coffee. Her hoodie rose a little when she reached for the mugs, revealing a sliver of skin above the waistband of her sweats. She didn’t tug it back down.

I stepped further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. My body was still catching up to itself. The bruises. The weight of last night. The fact that I was still here.

She finally glanced at me, sliding one of the plates across the counter.

“Eat.”

It wasn’t a request.

“Thanks.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes. Nothing awkward about it. Just... space. She ate slowly, precisely, like every bite was thought out. Like she didn’t waste effort on anything she didn’t need.

“You always cook breakfast?” I asked.

She shrugged. “When I can. Usually it’s just coffee.”

“How domestic of you.”

Her mouth curved slightly. “Don’t tell anyone. Ruins the mystique.”

“You mean the whole ice queen thing?”

Another glance. “That what they’re calling me?”

“Not officially.”

She sipped her coffee. “You don’t strike me as the type who listens to rumors.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why bring it up?”

I held her gaze. “Because I don’t know anything else.”

That landed. Not hard. But it landed.

She looked away first. Not in shame. Just choosing not to play the game.

“I get it,” she said. “You’re still trying to figure everyone out.”

“Only when they talk to me.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Another pause. The kind that stretches because no one’s willing to break it.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” she said finally.

“You were quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Noted.”

She tapped her nail lightly against her mug, then looked over at me again. Her eyes weren’t soft. But they weren’t guarded either.

“You’re different,” she said.

“From what?”

“Most people.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

I watched her sip from her mug again, slow and deliberate. She never broke eye contact for long. Even when she looked away, it felt like her attention never actually left me.

“You say that like it’s a compliment,” I said.

“It might be.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You always this vague?”

“Only when I’m still deciding.”

“On what?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Just leaned back against the counter, holding her mug with both hands like it kept her steady.

“Whether or not you’re a problem,” she said.

I smirked. “And?”

“Jury’s still out.”

Her voice wasn’t cold. Not cutting. Just honest. Refreshingly so.

“I don’t think I’m a problem,” I said.

She gave a small shrug. “Neither did the last guy.”

Something in her tone sharpened. Just enough to notice.

I didn’t push.

But I remembered that. The way she said it. The edge that lived underneath her calm.

We stood in silence again, this one a little heavier. Not uncomfortable—just weighted. Like both of us were carrying something neither of us was ready to drop yet.

Then Winter broke it, setting her mug down and crossing her arms.

“You were with Ningning last night.”

It wasn’t a question.

I didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”

Her gaze didn’t shift.

“And Giselle before that.”

Another fact.

I waited for the judgment. Or the sarcasm. Or the obvious question.

It didn’t come.

Instead, she nodded. Once.

Then said, “You don’t act like someone who’s trying to get passed around.”

“Is that what you think is happening?”

“No,” she said. “If it were, I don’t think I’d be talking to you right now.”

That caught me off guard.

Not because it was harsh—but because it wasn’t.

Because it felt like something else.

Something closer to… curiosity.

“Why are you?” I asked.

Winter tilted her head slightly. “I don’t know yet.”

There was something honest in the way she said it. Like she wasn’t used to guessing, but didn’t mind being unsure. Not with me.

“You confuse people,” she said. “Giselle’s always been hard to reach. Ningning doesn’t let her guard down like that. Not for fun. And then you show up.”

I didn’t say anything.

“You’re not who I expected.”

“That makes two of us.”

She cracked the faintest smile.

It didn’t last long.

Then she stepped forward—slow, quiet, just enough to close the space between us.

Not touching.

But close enough for her voice to drop into something softer.

“You’re not trying to be anyone. That’s what they notice.”

“What do you notice?”

She looked at me for a long second. Like she was trying to solve something only half-built.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

She didn’t move away.

Didn’t touch me either.

We just stood there in that pocket of silence—her mug still resting behind her on the counter, her breath steady. I could see the way her chest rose and fell beneath the fabric of her hoodie. Unbothered. Except she wasn’t. Not really.

There was a flicker there.

A hesitation just behind her gaze. A breath she hadn’t taken yet.

“You always this blunt?” I asked.

“Only when it’s easier than pretending.”

“And is this easy?”

“No,” she said. “But it’s real.”

That caught me.

Something about the way she said it. Like it wasn’t meant for me, but for herself. Like she was giving herself permission to stop holding it all together for a second.

I nodded slowly.

“Real’s good,” I said.

Her expression didn’t shift much, but her weight leaned ever so slightly in my direction. A tilt of the hips. A fraction closer.

“What happens next?” she asked.

I tilted my head. “You tell me.”

She studied me again.

And this time, she was analyzing. She was watching the way I stood. How relaxed my shoulders were. How still my hands stayed when I wasn’t trying to push, or prove anything. Her eyes flicked to my mouth. Not long. Just enough.

Then—

“You’re not like the last guy,” she said again, softer this time.

“Less cologne?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “But he always needed to be the loudest thing in the room.”

I smiled, just a little. “Guess I prefer being noticed for different reasons.”

“Like what?”

I didn’t answer.

Not because I didn’t have one. Because I wanted her to fill in the space.

She didn’t.

But she stepped closer.

Bare feet on cool tile. A breath between us. The smell of cinnamon and coffee on her sweatshirt, faint traces of something floral clinging to her skin.

Her voice dropped lower.

“You said yes to breakfast.”

“I did.”

“Then why haven’t you touched your plate?”

I looked down. The food had gone lukewarm.

I looked back up.

Her mouth twitched. The faintest curve.

“Something more interesting came up,” I said.

She didn’t smile. But she didn’t move away either.

Instead, she reached up and slowly—deliberately—tugged the drawstring of her hoodie a little tighter.

“I’m not fragile.” she said.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“But people think it.”

“I wasn't.”

“I know.”

The silence shifted again.

Not tension this time.

Readiness.

She leaned in, not quite touching me, her voice dropping like it was meant only for my chest.

“Come find me when you’re done pretending to eat.”

Then she turned.

Walked out of the kitchen. No look back. No pause.

Just that soft click of her bedroom door.

I didn’t follow her right away.

Stayed in the kitchen, letting the coffee go cold, the eggs congeal. My hand rested lightly on the counter. The other rubbed a line down the side of my neck, where stress always lingered when I didn’t know what I wanted.

But I did know.

Eventually.

I crossed the hallway in near silence, bare feet brushing hardwood, passing framed photos I hadn’t noticed before. Staged smiles. Glamorous lighting. Versions of her that belonged to the world. Not the girl who just told me I confused her.

I stopped outside her door.

No sounds. No music. No movement. Just a soft, ambient hush.

I knocked once.

Didn’t wait for an answer.

The door creaked open and there she was—on the bed, back against the headboard, knees pulled to her chest. Her sweatshirt was gone. Just a soft black tank now. Her hair was still twisted up, but looser. Like she’d tried to relax and halfway succeeded.

She didn’t look surprised.

Didn’t look guarded either.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

Her voice wasn’t coy. Wasn’t cracked open either. Just a single syllable—quiet, even.

“Wasn’t sure if you meant it.”

“I did.”

She shifted slightly, letting her knees fall apart a bit, making room without making it obvious. She didn’t pat the mattress or motion me closer. Just waited.

I stepped in and closed the door behind me.

The room smelled like linen and lotion and something subtle that made me think of clouds—if clouds had moods. If they hovered heavy and close enough to touch.

I didn’t sit right away.

Just looked at her.

“I don’t really know what this is.”

Winter shrugged. “Then maybe stop trying to define it.”

That landed softer than I expected. Not a warning. Just a survival strategy.

I nodded.

Then sat beside her.

Close, but not too close.

“You always let strangers in?” I asked.

“You’re not a stranger.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

She glanced at me sideways.

“Most people want something. You just… show up and don’t flinch.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Still deciding.”

We sat in that for a minute.

The kind of quiet that thickens if you don't move through it.

Then she spoke—calmer this time.

“You’re careful, you know.”

I looked at her. “Yeah?”

“Even when you let go. You do it in pieces. On your own terms.”

I didn’t answer right away.

“It’s not a bad thing,” she added. “It’s just… not how people usually are with me.”

I swallowed. “Maybe I don’t know how to be any other way.”

She nodded like she understood. Then tilted her head slightly.

“You ever think about walking away from all this?”

“From what?”

“This world. Everything that runs on attention.”

I frowned. “I’m not exactly famous.”

“Not yet.”

She held my eyes when she said that.

And I believed her.

Winter didn’t say anything after that. She just looked at me like she was still thinking it over—me, not the moment. Like I was a puzzle with one or two pieces missing and she couldn’t decide if that made it more or less interesting.

I leaned back against the headboard, legs stretched out. “Is that a good thing?”

“That you’re not famous? Or that you’re half-closed off even when you’re open?”

“Either.”

She gave the faintest shrug. “It means I can’t predict you.”

“That bothers you?”

“It scares me a little.”

There was no bite in her voice. No irony. Just honesty.

I looked down at my hands. “You’ve got control in most rooms, don’t you?”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to.

I glanced back up. “So maybe that’s what this is.”

“What?”

“You’re wondering if you should let someone in who doesn’t play by your rules.”

Winter’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite disagreement.

“I think I just want to know you,” she said.

That hit deeper than it should’ve. Simple words. Big weight.

I didn’t know how to answer, so I didn’t.

She adjusted how she was sitting—legs stretched out now, side of her thigh brushing mine. Not dramatic. Not flirtatious. Just a shift in shape, in space.

A beat passed.

Then she asked, “Do you love Giselle?”

I blinked.

It wasn’t an accusation. Just a question that dropped into the silence like a pebble in still water.

“Do you always ask questions like that?” I said quietly.

She didn’t backpedal. “Sometimes.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s complicated.”

Winter nodded. “That’s what people say when they don’t know if they’re in trouble.”

That pulled a small laugh out of me, and it seemed to soften something in her too.

“But no,” I said. “I don’t love her.”

“Not yet?”

I turned slightly toward her. “I’m not here to break anyone, if that's what you're worried about.”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “Some of us are already cracked.”

Neither of us moved after that.

I didn’t reach for her.

Didn’t ask what she meant.

But I wanted to know.

She was sitting so still, eyes forward, hands resting lightly in her lap. But her shoulders weren’t tense. Her spine wasn’t stiff. She looked… at rest. Which made the things she wasn’t saying feel louder.

“Are you always this open?” I asked after a while.

“No,” she said. “But you’re not trying to impress me.”

“Should I?”

She looked over at me again, her eyes slower now, a little warmer. “No.”

We both leaned back against the headboard, and for a few seconds, we just breathed.

Then she said, “You think I’m cold, don’t you?”

The question caught me off guard.

“Where’d that come from?”

“I see the way people look at me sometimes. Like I’m made of glass. Pretty, but cold. Untouchable.”

“Maybe they’re afraid to find out they’re wrong.”

Winter turned her head to face me. Her eyes were still sharp, but there was something soft behind them now.

“And are you?”

“Afraid?” I asked.

“Afraid to find out.”

I didn’t answer right away.

She shifted slightly—just enough for her thigh to press against mine. Not an accident this time. Her body language said she was letting me close. Or maybe testing if I’d flinch now that the air had changed.

“I think,” I said slowly, “you’re careful about what you give. But not cold.”

That earned me the smallest smile. “You’re not wrong.”

She picked at the hem of her tank for a moment, like her fingers needed something to do. Then she exhaled through her nose and said, “You keep your walls up too.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re talking.”

“Because of our walls?”

“Because neither of us is pretending we don’t have them.”

Winter nodded once, then turned toward me—closer now, just enough to shift the air. Her knees brushed mine.

Her eyes met mine.

No bravado. No coyness. Just a steady, unreadable look. She didn’t lean in.

She waited.

So I moved first.

The kiss wasn’t deep. Wasn’t fast. It was the kind that didn’t need explanation—soft, slow, just enough pressure to mean I see you. I felt her breathe in through her nose, then relax into it, just a little.

No one was trying to take control.

When I pulled back, her lips stayed parted, eyes still on me.

And then she said, quiet and steady:

“You don’t kiss like someone with walls.”

She didn’t speak again for a while.

Just sat there beside me, eyes half on mine, half on something behind them I couldn’t see. But her body hadn’t moved away. She hadn’t tucked her knees in or rebuilt the space between us. If anything, her shoulder was closer now. Her hand a little looser in her lap.

I waited.

Not to be polite. But because I was learning her rhythm. You don’t just pull open something that’s still settling. You give it time. Let it breathe.

Then, quiet—

“Do you like being touched?”

I turned to her. “That’s a loaded question.”

A flicker crossed her face. Not a smile. Not exactly. But something.

“I mean carefully,” she said. “Not to take. Not to overpower.”

I thought about it. Then nodded. “Yeah.”

Winter nodded too. Then let her hand drift between us, palm up, resting lightly on the mattress. Not touching me. Just there. An offer without demand.

I looked at it for a second. Then placed mine in hers.

Her fingers closed gently. Deliberate. Warm.

Then she stood, still holding my hand. Took a step to to the side without a word, and let her fingers slip from mine.

She didn’t tell me to follow. Didn’t have to.

I joined her.

She turned toward the dresser. Opened the top drawer.

I saw her fingertips move over the edge of something. A black blindfold. A small glass bottle. A candle, vanilla.

Her touch lingered on each, but she didn’t take them out. Not yet.

“I don’t like pain,” she said, eyes still on the drawer. “But I like contrast, control.”

Her voice was low. Steady.

Then after a pause-

"Sometimes the best way to keep it is to give it to someone who won't abuse it."

She turned and met my eyes. No blush. No teasing. Just calm honesty.

“I want to know what you’ll do with that.”

I didn’t answer right away.

Just stepped closer.

“I’ll be careful,” I said. “But I won’t be soft.”

Winter held my gaze.

Then slowly pulled off her tank, baring the long line of her torso. She wore nothing underneath. Her breasts high, skin soft and almost luminescent in the lamplight. She stepped toward me.

But didn’t close the gap.

She waited.

I reached for her pants.

Undressed her quietly. Nothing rushed. No show.

Just skin, smooth under fabric. Cool air rising around warm hips. She stepped out of them and stood still. Not posing. Not shy. Just… waiting to be seen.

When I looked up, her face was unreadable.

“I don’t know what this is yet,” she said. “But I want to feel it.”

And then she moved to the bed.

Laid down, one leg bent, arms loose at her sides.

“I don’t need you to be gentle.” she added.

I reached for the blindfold.

The blindfold was soft.

Fabric, not leather. Not for restraint. Just to take the edges off the world. I brought it to her face slowly, watching her breathe.

“You sure?” I asked.

She nodded once. “Yeah.”

When I slipped it over her eyes, her lips parted slightly. But she didn’t flinch. She adjusted to the dark like it was familiar. Like she’d chosen it before.

I let her sit in it for a second.

Just the blindfold, her bare skin, and the hush that filled the room like water.

Her hands lay flat against the sheets. Her spine gently arched, her knees relaxed. No tension, but no surrender either. Stillness with intent.

I leaned close, my mouth brushing her jaw. “Tell me if anything feels wrong.”

“Nothing does,” she whispered. “Yet.”

I left her like that.

Walked around the room slow, silent. Let her feel the absence, the anticipation.

The bottle on the dresser was oil—almond, vanilla. I warmed a few drops between my palms and moved back to her, quiet as breath.

The first touch was to her thigh.

She twitched, just a little. Not a recoil. More like acknowledgement.

I worked upward with my hands—slow, firm strokes, no rush to arrive anywhere. Just connection. Pressure and warmth and patience. I circled her hip, the curve of her waist, the hollow under her ribs.

Every time I touched a new part of her, her lips parted a little more. Her chest lifted.

I leaned in, kissed her neck just below her ear.

Her breath hitched.

Then I lit the candle.

The flame was steady. Low.

I waited, letting the heat build until a bead of wax gathered at the edge.

Then I tilted it.

A single drop.

It landed just beneath her collarbone, and she gasped—not pain, not fear. Just shock. Her hands gripped the sheets.

She didn’t speak.

I kissed the same spot, lips soft against the heat.

Another drop. This time lower. Just above her navel.

She arched. Whispered something that wasn’t a word.

I kept going. Wax. Mouth. Wax. Mouth.

Temperature and touch.

She was breathing harder now. Her body shifting, reacting to every change. No noise but the faint flick of the candle and her quiet, stuttering exhale.

I dragged my palm up the inside of her thigh. Not high enough. Not yet.

“Still good?” I asked, voice low against her skin.

She nodded. “More.”

The word came out cracked. Hungry.

I blew out the candle and put it on a shelf.

Then reached between her legs.

She was soaked.

I didn’t go straight for it.

I let my hands explore first—palming her thighs, brushing along the crease of her hip, slow enough to make her wonder if I’d ever get where she needed me. Her skin was warm, still tingling from the wax, the blindfold, the waiting. It felt like she was humming under my touch.

She shifted slightly, legs parting just enough.

I dragged two fingers along her slit.

She inhaled sharply.

“…fuck.”

I did it again. Slower. Let the wetness coat my fingers before easing them inside. She was tight—tense, not from resistance but from how hard she was trying to stay composed.

Her body opened for me in slow waves.

“Ahh…”

I pushed deeper, letting the angle adjust until I felt the right spot—then pressed up. Not hard. Just firm. Steady.

Her hips jerked.

“Shit—”

I grinned against her thigh and curled my fingers again.

She exhaled, long and shaky. Then whispered, “Mylo…”

Just that. No question. No plea.

Just my name.

I kissed her stomach. My thumb grazed her clit, light enough to tease. Her legs twitched.

“F—fuck…”

Her voice was breathy, high in the back of her throat.

Not desperate.

Not yet.

Just ready.

I built a rhythm. Nothing frantic. Just slow, thick strokes inside her, thumb flicking gentle circles, enough to make her lose her breath in pieces.

“Ah… ahh… mm—fuck—”

Her hands gripped the sheets. Her thighs tried to close, then spread wider. She was panting now, a little faster with every curl of my fingers.

“God—”

I felt her pulse start to race.

She wasn’t falling apart.

But she was unraveling.

Bit by bit.

And I didn’t stop.

She flinched a little when I slipped my fingers out, but didn’t say a word.

Didn’t pout. Didn’t beg. Just exhaled slow, shaky, as if trying to reset herself. Her hands were still open on the sheets, muscles flexing, resisting the urge to clench. She was unraveling carefully—measured—but I could see it.

“Don’t move.” I said.

She nodded once, tiny.

I moved to the small shelf by the window where the candle still sat—vanilla, half-used, wick unburnt. I struck a match. The flame hissed, then caught, spilling smoke and sugar into the room.

I let it burn.

Not for mood.

For heat.

While the scent bloomed through the air, I opened the mini fridge. Cold air rushed out. Inside—glass water bottle, already sweating with condensation. And on top of the fridge, a metal spoon. Clean. Light. Silver.

I grabbed both.

Then I waited.

Waited for the wax to pool.

She was already waiting for me from the bed. Breathing heavy, legs parted. Still flushed. Still damp. Still trying not to look like she was waiting for the next wave to hit.

I knelt again, one hand on her thigh.

She twitched.

Not from surprise—from anticipation.

I lifted the spoon and held it over the flame.

A few seconds.

Then touched it with my fingers.

Too hot.

Perfect.

I didn’t warn her.

Pressed the back of the spoon to the inside of her thigh.

She jolted like I’d shocked her.

“Shit—!”

No playacting. No noise for attention.

Just a raw sound, torn from somewhere deep in her throat.

Her thighs flexed. Her fists clenched into the sheets.

I waited a beat, then moved higher. Pressed again.

She exhaled through her nose, sharp and ragged.

"You’re okay," I murmured.

Her head nodded once. Tense. Silent.

I reached for the water bottle.

This time, no fingers.

I pressed the mouth of the bottle directly against her folds—slick and hot and swollen—and let the cold pour out.

She gasped like she’d been punched in the gut.

“F-fuck—!”

The water ran down her pussy in clean rivulets, spilling between her thighs and onto the mattress. She squirmed but didn’t close her legs. She was trying to outlast it. Pretend it wasn’t breaking her.

But I saw it.

The quiver in her abdomen.

The way her lips parted without sound.

She was slipping.

I leaned in. Let my mouth follow the path of the water. Licked the cold from her skin, then the heat underneath it.

Her back arched immediately.

“Fuck—”

I sucked gently on her clit, just once, then again—slow, rhythmic pressure—and her whole body stuttered.

She was coming apart one edge at a time.

Then I reached for the spoon again.

Pressed the warm metal against her mound. Just enough to make her twitch.

Then: the wax.

It had started to pool in the base of the glass.

I tilted the candle.

Let a drop fall.

It landed just below her navel.

She flinched—hard.

Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came.

Another drop.

Lower.

She jerked and gasped.

“Fucking—fuck—!”

I moved my hand between her legs. Slid two fingers inside. Curled them.

She clenched—tight and sudden—like her whole body had been waiting for that.

I worked her slow. Purposeful. Every curl hit deep, every twist dragged tension higher.

Then: one more drop of wax.

Right above her clit.

She didn’t scream.

She moaned like her voice cracked under the weight of it.

“M-Mylo—”

Her fingers clawed at the sheets.

I sucked the waxed skin clean. Kissed it like worship. Then dropped my head again, tongue circling her clit while my fingers pressed and curled and coaxed.

She whimpered—fought it.

Fought me.

I didn’t stop.

Didn’t speak.

Just kept her right there—pinned between heat and cold and need. Until finally—

She snapped.

“FUCK—oh god—I’m—ohhh—!”

Her hips jerked off the bed. Her thighs locked. She came like her body was trying to fight it off, like she didn’t want to be undone again so soon.

But it didn’t matter.

She was.

She ground herself against my mouth. Cried out. Shook. Her voice cracked as her orgasm rolled through her like a second storm breaking the first.

When she dropped back to the mattress, she was boneless. Wrecked.

I thought she might be done.

But then her voice broke through the silence—hoarse and shaking.

“…more.”

I looked up.

“What?”

Her eyes opened, glassy.

“I said more.”

I leaned over, kissed the inside of her knee, and smiled against her skin.

“Good girl.”

But this time, it wasn’t about praise.

It was a promise.

Her legs were still shaking when I dragged her back on the bed.

She didn’t resist.

Didn’t say a word.

Just let herself be pulled, back flat against the sheets, her breath still uneven and eyes dazed. Her lips were parted, swollen from kissing, from moaning, from everything we’d already done. But that look—the one that dared me to keep going—was still there, hidden in the fog.

I slid between her thighs.

She blinked up at me, lashes heavy.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered.

I didn’t.

I lined myself up, gripped her hips, and pressed in slowly—inch by inch—until I bottomed out. No barriers. No pause. Just the heat of her wrapped around me, wet and trembling.

Her gasp was sharp.

“F-fuck—”

“You feel that?” I breathed against her neck. “That’s how far you came for me.”

Her hands found my shoulders. Then my back. Then dragged down, nails biting as I pulled back—slow—and drove in again.

She choked on her breath.

I locked my arms around her and started to move. Deep, hard thrusts that knocked the breath out of her lungs, knocked soft whimpers out of her throat. Her legs wrapped around my waist. Her hips rolled up to meet mine.

There was no rhythm at first—just hunger. Raw, greedy friction. Her heels pressed into my back. She wanted more. Needed more. And I gave it to her.

Faster.

Rougher.

Her head tipped back into the pillow, mouth open, hair sticking to her cheeks.

“You like this?” I growled.

“Yes—yes, fuck, Mylo—”

Her voice cracked on the last syllable, but she didn’t stop moving. She clung to me, took every thrust like she was trying to pull more out of me. Her body was on fire. Slick. Squeezing.

“Harder,” she begged. “Please—fuck me—harder—”

I pinned her wrists above her head and gave it to her.

The bed groaned.

The air was thick with breath and skin and sweat.

And she was close again.

I could feel it in the way she clenched.

In the way her breath stuttered.

In the high, trembling pitch of her moans.

“You’re gonna cum again,” I said, barely able to keep my voice steady. “Aren’t you?”

She nodded. Desperate. Mouth open.

“Say it.”

Her whole body shook. Her legs spasmed.

“I’m—fuck—I’m cumming—!”

And she did.

Hard.

Her back arched. Her pussy clamped down on me, tight and slick and pulsing. She moaned loud and broken, riding it out with everything she had. She didn’t care about noise anymore. She didn’t care about anything but the orgasm tearing through her like it owned her.

I fucked her through it.

Fucked her until she was twitching.

Until she couldn’t moan—just gasp.

And then I followed.

Buried deep, head dropped against her shoulder, jaw tight as I spilled inside her. It hit hard. Deep. My whole body locked as I groaned her name low against her skin.

I didn’t pull out.

I stayed inside her.

And she didn’t let go.

Her legs were still around me, locked tight.

Neither of us moved for a long second.

My breath was in her ear, shallow and ragged. Hers was all over the place—tiny, gasping inhales like she was trying to remember how lungs worked. Her nails were dragging light lines down my back now, not scratching anymore, just touching. Feeling.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” she murmured.

My lips curved against her shoulder. “You’re shaking.”

“So?” Her voice was wrecked. Throat dry. Defiant anyway.

I shifted, starting to pull back—slow, careful, overstimulated skin dragging against overstimulated heat.

She groaned.

Her thighs twitched.

And then her teeth were on my lip.

Hard.

A sharp, claiming bite—not enough to draw blood, but close. Enough to make me flinch.

My hand gripped her throat in return—not squeezing, just reminding her.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Still wild. Still hungry.

“Don’t think this means I'm yours now,” she whispered. “You didn’t win anything.”

I leaned in, lips ghosting across hers. “I didn’t know it was a competition.”

She grinned—exhausted, sated, but still her.

And then her body finally slumped.

Completely.

I eased out, slowly, holding her hips while she whimpered—high and soft and broken.

My cum trickled out between her thighs, wet and warm.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t close her legs. Just lay there, staring up at the ceiling like she’d been wrung out and left to dry.

“You good?” I asked, brushing hair off her cheek.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Define good.”

“Still alive?”

“Barely.”

I smiled. Then bent and kissed her—slow, no tongue this time. Just pressure. Just closeness.

She kissed me back like she wasn’t ready to let the moment go.

When I pulled away, she sighed. One arm stretched above her head, the other lazily traced lines along my arm.

I didn’t say anything. Just shifted to lie beside her, one leg tangled with hers, hand still resting against her stomach.

The room was thick with the smell of sex.

Of her.

Of us.

And for the first time all night… we were still.

Quiet.

I didn’t say anything at first. Eventually, I leaned up, peeled myself out of the tangle of limbs, and crossed the room to grab the a towel—clean, soft, folded by the closet. I soaked it with warm water from the bathroom sink, wrung it out, then came back.

She watched me through heavy-lidded eyes. Didn’t move.

I started with her neck. Gentle, slow. Then her stomach. The insides of her thighs. I traced every spot the wax had touched, cleaning carefully—pausing when she flinched again, then going slower. Her skin was flushed in places, but not red. Not burned.

She didn’t speak until I reached the curve of her hip.

“I liked it,” she whispered.

I didn’t answer right away. Just nodded and kept going. The towel moved with care—across the spots I’d dripped heat, and the ones I’d cooled down with water, and the places I’d touched like I was memorizing them.

When I was done, I tossed the towel into the corner and lay back beside her.

My throat was dry. My hand found the water bottle on the nightstand and twisted the cap off, but I didn’t drink it.

I brought it to her instead.

Winter was still stretched out across the sheets, one arm thrown over her eyes like she couldn’t bear the overhead light, the other resting loosely over her stomach. Her chest rose in slow, shallow breaths. Her lips were parted.

She looked wrecked. Stunning. Real.

I touched her knee gently, and her arm moved just enough to peek up at me.

“Drink,” I said.

She blinked. Groggy. But took the bottle. She sat up slow, shoulders rounding forward, and drank without a word.

I stayed standing for a second. Just watching her.

Then grabbed my shirt from the floor. Not to wear—just to wipe the sweat from her collarbone, the back of her neck, the curve of her side. She let me.

“You alright?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You sure?”

She looked up, hair sticking to her cheek. “That wasn’t what I expected.”

“No?”

She smirked, sleepy. “You’re kind of dangerous.”

I grinned. “You’re kind of insane.”

“Fair.”

She handed me the bottle again, and I drank this time, then sat beside her on the edge of the bed. She leaned into my side without being asked, her cheek pressing against my ribs.

“I don’t usually like being… touched after,” she murmured.

I pulled my hand from her hair, just in case.

But she reached up, stopped me. “No. This is okay.”

We sat like that for a while. Breathing.

The room smelled like sex. Wax. Skin. Vanilla.

Eventually, I stood again. “You should eat something.”

She made a soft noise. “I’d rather melt.”

“You can melt later.”

I walked barefoot down the hall to the kitchen. It was still warm from earlier. Light from the fridge caught the edge of a note still taped to the cabinet—Ningning��s handwriting, bubbly and quick.

Don’t forget to eat something.

I found a leftover croissant in a bakery box near the counter, along with some juice. A ridiculous price tag was still half-peeled on the side—$19.50.

My mouth went dry.

A flash. Another tag. Another room. “Just smile, baby. It’s for all of us. He paid. That’s what matters.”

I blinked. Swallowed.

Took a breath.

Then turned back toward the hallway.

Winter was sitting up when I got back, wrapped in the top sheet now, arms resting over her knees. I handed her the croissant and juice. She took both.

Then broke the croissant in half and offered me a piece.

I shook my head.

She paused. “You’re not hungry?”

“No.”

A beat.

Her eyes lingered. Not in suspicion. Not even concern. Just… noticing.

I sat beside her again, slower this time.

She didn’t eat right away. Just leaned into me again. My arm slid around her waist. Her head found my chest.

And we stayed like that.

Breathing.

Grounded.

Safe.

After a minute, she shifted—just slightly—and looked up at me. Her brow furrowed. Like she was seeing something she hadn’t seen before.

“What?”

Her voice was soft. Almost hesitant.

I didn’t answer. Just met her gaze.

She didn’t press.

But she kept looking.

Longer than before.

PART 6

[lulujeno]

finding out you sleep with a plushie

— nct dream ᡣ𐭩

cw : none! 100% fluff ^^

a/n : my tumblr debut yay! tried to make it as gender neutral as possible so i hope you enjoyyy

mark:

came home late from practice and found you sleeping on the couch with a winnie-the-pooh plushie tucked under your arms

first time seeing you sleep with the plushie despite knowing that you can't sleep without it

takes note of it for future occurrences

going on a flight? road trip? staying at your friends place? he will for sure remind you about the plush

when you forget the plushie at his place he will have it sitting on his bed against a pillow (sometimes 'reading' one of his books)

every time he sees winnie-the-pooh now he will take a quick pic of it to send to you

"yooooo why this lowkey looks like you"

doesn't forget to remind you that you're cuter tho

poor markie was so panicked when he couldn't find the plush after you texted him that you left it at his place

had a whole apology written down knowing how precious it was since its your childhood plushie

promised to buy you the exact same one and is basically crying now because he knows that it won't be able to replace the one you had

luckily he found it under his bed so we're all good!

renjun:

you were taking a nap on his bed when he saw you hugging a duck plushie

takes a quick pic for memories sake (and to tease you about it in the near future)

since then his little notes for you include a small duck doodle on it

"left early for practice 𓅭" "leftovers are in the fridge 𓅿" "goodluck for the interview today 𓅹"

when he's overseas for schedules he'll find something with ducks on it to give to you as a little souvenir

kisses both you and the duck when he sees you asleep after a long day (it calms him down)

would ask who's cuter, him or duckie?

you jokingly say duckie which causes him to nag to your plushie about stealing his partner

ducks are now his new favourite thing to draw (lyric sheets are his no. 1 victim)

when you couldn't find the plush he offers himself as something for you to cuddle with

resulted in him getting smacked and proceeding to help you find the duck

gets sulky after, saying that hes better at cuddling than the "piece of fluff"

you coo at his jealousy over a stuffed toy and cuddle the both of them

jeno:

he arrived at your place a little later than usual and sees you tucked in with a black bunny

he coos at how adorable the sight is and takes a picture to set as one of his many lockscreens of you

noticed that its the bunny he bought for you before he went on tour for tds2

"if you miss me just cuddle the bunny okay? he has black hair like me so it wouldnt be that much of a difference"

obviously cuddling a grown man and a 31cm plushie is different but what can you do when he's halfway across the globe?

also the type to kiss you and your bunny goodnight

caught him doing it one day and now try to stay awake long enough to catch him doing it again

you fail to do so since his schedules always end soooo late f u sm!!

would give your bunny a wash once every few months since the bunny is a representation of him and he takes personal hygiene very seriously! (his words, not yours)

the bunny would have a new ribbon tied to its ears, depending on what colour his hair is this time (always praying for the pink or white ribbon to come back one day)

gets jealous that you cuddle the bunny more than him

you'd get back at him saying that he's the one that bought the bunny

haechan:

could not shut up when he realised that the plushie you couldn't sleep without was a brown bear

teases you to no end because everyone knows the he is the og brown bear

he finds it too cute that you need a mini him to sleep

"awwwh, you're so in love with me that your plushie is basically me"

you tell him that its just a basic bear, theres no deeper meaning to it

you did buy it because it looks like him but he can't know that! the teases will be insufferable

doesn't care if it had another name before hand because it is now haechan jr.

if he sees the plush on the floor he'll pick it up and tuck it under your arms

the type to tell the little guy to take care of you in your sleep

you'd buy a mini version for him to bring around for schedules and tours

gives you updates about mini haechan jr. every second

practice room? recording studio? m/v shoot? fansign? filming 7llin? you will be getting updates!! not missing a single one

would post haechan jr. and mini haechan jr. on his instagram as a soft launch

it's a little too soft but its okay since you both want to keep it on the downlow anyways

jaemin:

found you sleeping one night with a pink bunny hidden under the blanket next to you

was cooing at how cute the sight was

also one to take pics because that's his partner!! why wouldn't he?

had to hold himself back from pinching your cheeks and opted to pat your head instead

will ask about it the next time he sees you and wont stop telling you how cute you are

you left it at his place once and suddenly theres a ribbon on your bunny's ears (i wonder who added it)

caught him having a full on conversation with your bunny a few times damn your bf is weird

basically treats the bunny like his child at this point

will remind you to bring your bunny when going on overnight trips with him

will not stop taking pictures of the bunny (he has a whole file for it on his phone btw)

"aigoooo look how adorable she is"

"awww both my babies look so cute I have to take a pic"

also one to send you pics of things with bunnies on it when on tour, buys it for you too sometimes

his cats loves bitting everything, including your bunny

makes sure that its as far away from luna, lucy, and luke after he caught them trying to bite on it

you're now 100x cuter in his eyes and he wont shut up about it

chenle:

slightly smiled to himself when saw you bring a dumbo plushie the first time you slept over at his face

he bought it so of course you'll be sleeping with it

why dumbo? because he has big ears and you're nosy as hell (his words btw)

you got sulky when you heard the reason and he corrected himself and said that it was because he was a yapper and you're the listener instead

starts calling you dumbo and the plushie dumbo jr. instead

would also ask to pick between him and the plushie

got so offended when you picked dumbo

"i am THE zhong chenle, who wouldn't choose me?"

would replace the plushie with himself after you sleep since he's petty like that, he wouldn't let a stuffed toy win over him

but would also put dumbo in between your arms if he wakes up first in the morning (it's to keep you company while he's cooking breakfast)

sends you pics of daegal and dumbo together like a proud dad

he's still chenle though so dont expect your plushie to get the same dad treatment as jaemin

the type to get you more dumbo related items since dumbo is the only plushie you sleep with

jisung:

his heart melted at the sight of you sleeping on the couch with a hamster plushie squished against your cheeks

if that man wasn't a simp for you already then he is now

needs a few seconds to just admire how cute you were for faling asleep while trying to wait for him to end his schedules

he's not one to bring it up directly, but that doesn't mean he won't tease you about it from time to time

probably annoys the members (read: chenle) about how adorable his partner is when cuddled up with a plush version of him

he's so down bad but you can't blame him for being in love

took him a few nights to realise that its the plushie he bought for you when you visited him during smtown live in tokyo

got so shy and couldn't contain his smile when he realised it

would ask you if you've given the hamster a name yet and when you said you haven't he suggested 'hamster'

you don't have the heart to tell him how corny it is so you agree to it

you both are down bad!!!!

if he sees the hamster on the floor he'll dust off any possible dust before tucking it under your arms again

takes a picture to make it last longer

you leave the plush at his place on accident once

send you a message saying that he can't believe you just forgot your son like that

takes a pic of him cuddling the hamster to show that he is being taken care of no ones focusing on the doll when his hands are right there

[strayingawayy]

it's the little things for me

chan: folding the laundry as he admires you while you scream to lady gaga on a friday night, cleaning your spectacles/ sun glasses for you, feeding you with his own chopsticks, making sure you're on the opposite side of the traffic while crossing the street, taking strands of hair out of your mouth when you're asleep, making sure he always has time for you, rocking you in his arms while you cry, sharing the tiniest of umbrellas even if you BOTH get wet in the process, silently wiping sauce off your face while you ramble on about the latest gossip at work/uni, sends flowers to your place on random days, saying he loves you more than he loves the ocean. lee know: wearing even the most cringe frilly pink aprons you'll get him which stay stuff like 'kiss the cook' or 'mr. good lookin is cookin', learning how to make all your comfort foods, buying you stuffed toys resembling your childhood pets, always making you taste test the food he's cooking, "do you want it to be spicier? it'll help with the cold.", oiling and massaging your hair on sunday mornings, talking to you like he does with his cats whenever you're sick, screeching to songs in the car, buying stupid matching sunglasses, sharpening your pencils for you, leaving sooni, doongi and dori at his parents' claiming you spend more time with them than him, cracking your fingers when he's bored.

changbin: washing your dishes no matter how much you insist you can do it, keeping in touch with your family once you introduce them to him, giving you piggy back rides, letting you make stupidly cute hairstyles with his hair, sleeping with your stuffed toys when you're not at home, always packing your favourite toothpaste because he knows how much you despise the hotel ones, letting you win at arm wrestling, racing with you to the nearby convenience store.

hyunjin: learning your drink orders for different moods and seasons, slipping little encouraging notes with the cutest doodles into your bag, jacket pockets, underwear pile, EVERYWHERE, clicking lots of candid polaroids of you, always keeping a lipbalm in his pocket for you, making a list of places you want to visit and taking you on surprise trips, rubbing your noses together, drawing on your arms while you watch a movie, listening to you rant about your passions all. night. long.

jisung: always wanting you to share new music you like with him, buying you guys matching fluffy house slippers with the most bizarre stuff like cheese puffs or flamingos on them, decorating your shared space with childhood photos of you, singing karaoke with you until 4 am, watching panda and hamster videos together, singing you awake every morning, playing careless whisper as a way of asking you to dance with him, binging studio ghibli movies with you on days off, afternoon naps, watching fireflies together, weird nicknames like 'cake batter eater' or 'hairbrush stealer', rewatching childhood cartoons, doubling over in laughter one second and having the most serious conversations the next, "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

felix: reporting accounts which abuse skzoo >:(, always stocking up on your favourite snacks, letting you tease him over his small hands, giving you the best massages after long days, whispering and quiet laughing in silent spaces, biting your shoulder whenever you expose him in front of the boys, showing off his latest dance moves while dusting the house, giggling and rolling around in fresh sheets you just finished putting on, being your personal heater during the winters, miserably gardening together, smiling in between kisses.

seungmin: learning small phrases in your mother tongue and making sure his pronunciation is on spot, wearing animal onesies together, waking you up with your favourite cup of coffee every morning, giving you head scratches when you can't sleep, cuddling together on a rocking chair, fighting over who pays for the bill, going to fancy stores and trying out clothes only to leave without buying anything, always finding you first whenever there's a blackout, going to the local adoption center and cooing at puppies together, tracing your features while you sleep, a quick forehead kiss before he rushes to work, replacing photocards you have of other members with his own.

jeongin: "mentioned you in their story", staying on call with you when you're taking a cab at night, wearing normal shoes when he goes out with you, eating caramel popcorn at 2 am, getting on a subway and going to the nearby town because you heard it's raining there and needed a reason to dance together, laying his head on your lap while reading manga, wearing fuzzy socks, trying out stupid tiktok couple trends, pretending to be a toxic couple while grocery shopping.

[dinosus]

PART 2 of John price being a domestic menace its borderline obsessive

You guys wanted a part two, i gave you a part two. Get ready to be FED. -

Price loves his peace and quiet at home, but let’s be real—he’s a dramatic little shit about it.

If you’re vacuuming? He’s fake groaning on the couch like an old man.

“Bloody hell, I just sat down.”

“John, it’s been ten hours. The house is dusty.”

“It builds character.”

You throw a pillow at him. He catches it and uses it to nap. -

He’s obsessed with Sunday mornings. No alarms, no plans, just the two of you and the soft smell of toast and coffee.

You wear his shirt. Hair all messy, eyes half shut. He damn near falls in love with you all over again.

“C’mere,” he grumbles, arms outstretched.

You end up tangled on the couch together, wrapped in a throw blanket, watching the same old war documentaries he insists are “historically accurate.” Spoiler: they’re not.

You fall asleep. He stays awake just to stare at you. -

This man has a drawer full of random little things you’ve ever given him. Notes. Receipts with doodles. A button you once sewed back on his shirt.

You caught him once, sitting at the kitchen table after a deployment, holding a crumpled note you’d stuck in his gear bag.

“Missed you, soldier. Be safe. Dinner’s waiting.”

He didn’t say anything. Just kissed you like you hung the moon. -

He tries to help with chores, emphasis on tries.

You told him to vacuum once—he vacuumed the cat.

“JOHN.”

“She walked right into it, love, what d’you want me to do—”

He’s banned from touching anything electronic in the house. Washing machine? No. Dishwasher? Hell no. You let him water the plants. Supervised. -

Price keeps a hand on you at all times when he’s home. Sitting on the couch? He pulls you onto his lap. Brushing your teeth? He’s behind you, arms around your waist.

You once tried to sneak out of bed early. Didn’t even get halfway up before you were yanked back down.

“Not so fast, Mrs. Price.”

“Yes so fast, we need milk.”

“Milk can wait. Cuddles first.” -

He absolutely refuses to let you carry grocery bags.

You once tried to be independent and carry ONE bag. He glared at you like you insulted his honor.

“Drop it.”

“John, it’s eggs.”

“Drop it.”

You let him carry all ten bags like some suburban Hercules. He grunts dramatically for extra flair. -

He’ll never admit it, but he loves your skincare routine.

If you do a face mask, he sits there watching you like a little goblin.

“What the hell is that?”

“A clay mask.”

“Is it gonna eat your face?”

Next thing you know, you’re putting one on him. He grumbles but sits still. Thirty minutes later, he says his skin feels “tight but hydrated.” (He googled that.) - This man is the epitome of a black cat energy. Bro's footsteps so quite, he literally jump scares the shit outta you. Bastard doesn’t announce himself. Just snakes his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, watching you stir the soup. You try to keep focused, but his warm breath on your neck is criminal.

“John, if this burns because of you—”

“It’s soup, love. Not a landmine,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

You try to swat him with the wooden spoon, but he’s already grinning, ducking out of reach.

And then he goes for it—stealing a kiss right as you’re adding the salt.

“Don’t care if the soup’s still cookin’—you taste better.” He’s sneaking kisses while you’re trying to stir the pot. You threaten him with the wooden spoon. He laughs. “Fine, I’ll wait. But I’m takin’ seconds—of you, not the soup.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Had your fill ? :) Part one is on my account page, check it out ! <3

[theiathemonster]

Time to post embarrassing, Dog Man related, things on my tumblr ^^

Thanks, you absolute royalty (people who responded), for sharing your opinions!!I will now be sharing my writings >:3 enjoy!

~~~

"Its getting late kid, I should head out.." he pat the little ones head then smoothed out his fur before standing up.

Lil' Petey reached up to hold his hand to stop him- "You've been nodding off most of our play-date, Papa, why not stay the night with me?"

Petey stopped in his tracks and looked down to Lil' Petey with a look of concern. He did feel bad for being half asleep while he was meant to be hanging out with Lil' Petey- but the fight to find work and doing odd jobs around town had really started to show on him. "I dunno, Lil' Petey.."

Lil' Petey turned to look over to Dog Man to ensure it was okay before pressing further. Taking the initiative Dog Man smiled slightly and stepped forward to sign more clearly. ["Lil' Petey's right. You've been so tired all day. You're welcome to stay the night"] Looking from the shorter cat to the far taller one once more, Dog Man' features softened slightly before he continued. ["You can sleep on the couch too if that makes you more comfortable?"]

Petey looked to Dogman with hesitation before looking to the front door. Unsure, Petey knelt down to Lil' Petey and pulled him in to a close hug, standing fully upright again with him in his arms. "You really want me to stay..?"

"Yes!" The little one exclaimed, arms in the air for a brief moment.

Petey couldn't hold back a tired laugh before looking back to Dog Man. "If you're sure. Thanks, Dog Man.."

He was so happy to see Lil' Petey so excited- and even more so to see Petey accepting this small bit of help. Dog Man couldn't help but look at them with admiration.

["It’s no problem. I'll just be upstairs if you need me”] he quickly shook his head and tried to start over- looking for a more welcoming and less direct approach [“-er if you need anything"] Dog Man gave a nervous chuckle.

Petey, as tired as he was, didn't notice the mistake and was far more focused on getting over to the couch to catch up on some much needed sleep- But- Lil' Petey had a whole night time routine filled with howls, baths, and stories they needed to attend to first.

Petey knew he wouldn't be able to do the tasks to their fullest- so he reached an arm out to stop Dog Man before he headed upstairs. "Would you- wanna join us in getting him ready for bed? You sorta know your way around your place better than I do" he said with a nervous chuckle, withdrawing his hand from reaching out to wiping his tired eyes.

Dog Man nodded very quickly, stepping back down the stairs to join the two in the livingroom before helping with Lil' Petey's night routine. He gave Lil' Petey a small lick and didn't spare Petey a moment without one too- earning a small glare and a grumble about how Petey is "wide awake now..”

~~~

I dunno how to write for when a character is using ASL or any form of sign language so please correct me if using “[ ]” to indicate what is being said in sign isn’t the right way to go about it.

WIP for a comic I’m trying to work on following this tid-bit ^^

~~~

Extra:

Dog Man ended up falling asleep against the couch Petey and Lil' Petey were sleeping on with a book still in his hand.

Lil' Petey was sleeping in between the two while Petey was forced up against the couch cuz the kitten and dogs head took up most the space.

Like when a dog or cat sleeps on your bed and you end up on the far corner for no reason. /silly)

Enjoy a doodle!!

[owliellder]

All Pent Up

MDNI 18+

Puppy Hybrid! Leon Kennedy x afab! Reader

Word count: 3.85k

Warnings: Porn w/ plot, unprotected p in v (stay safe), no use of y/n, spanking, crying, slight ass-play.

Description: After a long night at work, you come home to a very pent up Leon. A trip to the park to help with that energy turns a little sour.

Tags: Submissive! Leon, neck biting/marking, begging, cunnilingus, knotting, mommy kink, fluff, near illegal amounts of praise AND aftercare, a lovely creampie to end the morning

Not proofread. I am once again sat here bored at work. More self indulgence since I work the same kind of job aforementioned in this lmao.

Also VERY much inspired by @abp0rns art of puppy Leon, specifically the two I put below the crop. Please check out their art they gotta be one of my favorite doodlers out there.

Edit: cross posted onto Ao3 if it's easier for you to read there (cause it is for me)

It had been an incredibly boring night at work for you. Working graveyard at a gatehouse meant you did practically nothing. Easy money, sure, but you can only watch so many movies and doodle so much before it becomes redundant.

The only thing keeping you going was making sure your puppy, Leon, stayed happy and comfortable. You'd found him at the shelter a few months back, and though you never considered yourself to be a hybrid kinda person, Leon was just too damn cute at that shelter.

After adopting the hybrid, you quickly fell into a nice afterwork routine; come home, get jumped by Leon, make breakfast while he asked a plethora of questions about your night and made sure you knew just how much he missed you by licking and slobbering all over you. He was the sweetest boy, but man was he excitable.

Some mornings, you'd come home a bit more awake than others. It was random and you're not sure what made that so, but today was apparently one of those days.

~

"-sosososo glad you're home, mommy! I've been so lonely and bored without you!" Leon happily talked on after you'd walked through the door, his golden fur covered tail thumping loudly against the back of the couch. You remained quiet as you let him ramble, reaching up to pet through his messy bedhead with a smile. "I chewed on my toys, broke one of the squeakers though, but you've gotten me plenty of other toys for me to play with!! I really like this fluffy red pig you got me-!"

He continued to talk loudly about everything he did after you left for work only 8 hours prior, running around to grab and show you his chewed up toy and his favorite toy, tail continuing to wag avidly all the while.

"Alright, alright.. settle down, Leon.." You spoke up, cutting off his talk about laying in your bed so you could take a moment to shed your work clothes in favor of some more comfortable lounge wear; an old, faded graphic tee and a pair of soft sweatpants.

The hybrid followed you throughout the apartment while continuing to ramble, albeit a lot quieter now. Clearly Leon had a lot of energy this morning, which wasn't unusual by any means, but since you weren't all that tired this morning you decided that a trip to the dog park would be a good way for him to get some much needed exercise and enrichment.

After making breakfast, you dressed your puppy in a cozy outfit since it was always little chilly in the mornings where you lived, damn cold desert. You only had to reach for the leash for him to start jumping and yapping enthusiastically, making it rather difficult to hook it onto his collar.

You decided to stay in your comfy clothes, seeing as it would keep you warm enough until the sun warmed the air outside.

"Do you think Chris will be there?! Can you text his owner?? Who else is gonna be there?! I can smell the park from here!-" Leon rambled excitedly as he tugged you along to the park, smelling every bush and tree the two of you passed thoroughly. His tail never stopped wagging, those soft floppy ears perked forwards as he moved his head every which way, focusing in on every movement and sound while beelining to the park. He knew the way there, the leash was just to make sure you didn't get lost.

The air was cool the, sun beginning to warm you up. It was starting to bring out your exhaustion, but you wanted Leon to get at least half an hour of playtime in so he wouldn't bug you while you slept later. The thought alone made it easy for you to power through that brain fog that threatened to settle in.

You and Leon walked across the street once the tall chainlink fence that bordered the dog park was in view, the Golden Retriever hybrid practically dragging you to the other side of the street as his excitement grew. There were always other hybrids out early in the morning, the cool mornings were nicer for walks compared to the hot afternoons, at least in your opinion.

Leon was rubbing himself along the side of the fence, sniffing with a large goofy smile on his face. He had playmates that were normally here around this time, namely Chris, a German Shepard hybrid. Though Chris was a little bigger than Leon, they always played nicely, never having gotten into any sort of scuffle.

Chris was quick to notice Leon, running up to the fence so he could sniff him. They rapidly got each other riled up, so the moment you made it to the gate you unhooked the leash from Leon's collar. This wasn't so he didn't get choked out when he launched into the park, no, it was because the last time you forgot to unhook his leash first, you were yanked face first into soggy grass and mud.

The second you unlatched the gate, Leon pushed it open. He sprinted into the grassy park, Chris not far behind before tackling the smaller hybrid with a playful growl. The two roughhoused, chased each other, and played tug-of-war with a stick Chris had found.

You decided to sit on a bench not too far from where the boys played, looking up from your phone every minute or so to make sure their play didn't turn ugly.

Only 30 minutes had gone by before- "Mommy! Mommy!" Leon shouted from across the park, prompting you to look up from your phone. It only took a moment for your eyes to nearly bulge out of your head when you spotted a now brown Leon. His tail wagged, slapping loudly against the thick puddle of mud he was laying sideways in. "Looklooklook! Chris and I found a ball!" he yelled with a grin, Chris holding up the muddy ball high in the air so you could see it.

You sat there dumbfounded for a brief moment before letting your head fall back, breathing in and letting out a deep sigh as your eyes closed. You tilted your head forwards again, letting your eyes open slowly as your annoyance showed clear on your face.

Your puppy could see your expression change even from where he was, his ears drooping more than they were as the mud had weighed them down a bit. Seems like playtime was over.

Chris' owner wasn't all that happy either, walking over to the filthy hybrids only a few seconds sooner than you did. You pulled Leon from the mud by the collar since he seemed a bit stuck, glaring weakly at the now cowering puppy.

"Leon is always getting Chris into some sort of mess." Chris' owner huffed out, clearly irritated with the situation. You frowned, running your free hand over your face with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, Leon just seems to really like the mud lately. I can't help that Chris follows, but I'll try to keep Leon from the mud." You didn't really care for someone implying your Golden Retriever puppy was a bad dog, but the idea of confrontation mixed with your ever-growing exhaustion was enough to have you just let it go.

After apologizing again, you let Leon shake off the excess mud from his body before hooking the leash to his collar once more, beginning to pull him towards the gate. He was very resistant to leaving, whining and whimpering something fierce. "I'm sorry! ImsorryImsorry! Please I'll be good! Let me stay a little longer mommy! Please I'm sorry! Mommy!"

As pitiful as he sounded, you now had to squeeze a thorough bath in for the hybrid before you were even able to think about sleeping. You continued to drag him along as he fought against you, crying out softly as you finally got him through the gate, closing it before he could run back through.

Your exhaustion was making you irritable, and having to fight to get Leon back home was enough to make you angry. It got even worse when he growled at you.

You stopped walking, the entrance to your apartment building only a few feet away. Turning around to face him, he immediately shrunk down at your furious glare. "Bad boy, Leon." Your voice was harsh, yet also so calm, it scared him. He hated being a bad boy, he never wanted to hear those words together again.

After you started walking again, he followed obediently, staying silent all the way into your apartment. He stood stiffly by the front door once you closed it, watching you stomp away. The puppy was on the verge of tears, his muddy tail tucked between his legs and his ears flat against his head.

Leon's bottom lip trembled the longer he couldn't see you, his ears twitching a bit as he picked up on the sound of the bath faucet turning on. His hands were clasped in front of his legs, head down in shame.

"Leon!" You called out from the bathroom, your tone still laced with irritation, he could definitely tell that much. The hybrid quickly shuffled to the bathroom, trying his best not to get clumps of dried up mud on the carpet along the way.

Leon stood in the bathroom doorway before you gently dragged him in, making silent work of his clothes that were absolutely caked in mud. He knew what to do afterwards, quietly seating himself in the bath, shoulders slumped. The bath was silent except for Leon's weak attempts to apologize, his voice faltering every time once he looked at your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you just looked so disinterested.

After the bath, you shooed the puppy off with a towel draped over his shoulders, lazily washing off his collar in the dirty bath water before unplugging the tub.

Leon sat in the living room, drying himself off as best as he could with the towel. Even after, he shook himself off on instinct, the towel left discarded on the floor. He had sat himself on the couch, still slouched with a strong pout on his face.

He knew he was in trouble. His stomach sank when you walked out and stood in front of him with that same irritated look. You then walked and sat next to him on the left. "Lay across my lap, Leon."

The Golden Retriever hybrid whimpered, though he did as he was told, laying himself so his abdomen was laying on your lap, his tail still tucked between his legs. He yipped when you grabbed the base of his damp tail with your left hand, roughly untucking it so you could get a clear view of his ass. "Look at me, Leon."

He turned his head and tilted it back slightly so he could look up at you, his eyes sad and watery. He didn't have anything to say for himself. "You growled at me. You've never growled at me before." You sounded upset, and you were. You didn't want to punish your sweet boy, but him growling at you for something so insignificant deeply bothered you.

Sighing, you pulled his tail up away from his ass even further, grip tightening on it as you felt him try and tuck it back between his legs again. Wordlessly, you drew your other hand back, a sharp smack along with a cry from Leon ringing out in the quiet apartment. You hated having to do this, but he needed to learn.

A few harsh spanks later and the hybrid's ass was bright red and sore, tears spilling down his face as he sobbed out barely comprehensible apologizes in between loud cries every time you brought your hand down on his tender behind. His hands gripped the couch cushion tightly, those pitiful sobs of his tugging at your heart.

Once you feel Leon'd learned his lesson, you gently ran your hand along both his ass cheeks, soothing the hot and red skin while your other hand caressed the base of his tail. You waited until his crying quieted to talk to him again, listening to him sniffle wetly as you let go of his tail to wipe away his snot and tears.

"Okay, okay... there you go, sweet boy. All done. I'm all done..." you whispered to the whimpering puppy hybrid in your lap, shifting your body sideways so he could climb up and lay his head against your chest. You combed your fingers through his hair with one hand while the other stroked the side of his face, clearing the few stray tears that continued to fall.

Leon buried his face into your chest, hiccuping out muffled apologies as he brought his hands up to wrap around you. "I'm sorry mommy. So-.. sososo sorry... Didn't mean to, mommy..."

As he trembled against you, you couldn't help but feel terrible for punishing him that way. He'd never been bad before, the punishment really shouldn't have been so harsh..

You waited until he quieted to speak up again, tilting your head to the side slightly so you could see his face a little better. "...you took that so well, Leon. Such a good boy for mommy, huh?" Despite the suggestive undertone, you made sure to talk softly, careful not to upset the delicate puppy on your chest.

He lifted his head up slightly, nodding weakly as his eyes turned glassy once more. "Please.. I'll-I'll be a good boy for you m-mommy. I'm sorry- I'm so so sorry mommy- I didn't mean to growl- ImsorryImsorryIm-"

You shushed him, running your hand from the side of his face up through his hair as he began to cry again. "You're a good boy, Leon. I forgive you, baby.."

All Leon wanted to do was make this right. He never wanted to be a bad boy again. He hated the way you spoke to him, the way you had looked at him. It was so scary, he wasn't a bad boy, no, he wasn't.

His mind was flooded with everything he could possibly do to make it up to you, tears falling onto your shirt as he pulled himself up off of you. He crawled backwards and sat back on his haunches, giving you a wary look as he tucked his fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Oh, Leon, sweetheart, you don't have to-" "Please..." Leon's meek voice cut you off, making you pause for a moment before nodding with a smile. His hands trembled as he pulled your sweatpants down, taking your panties with them. The hybrid hiccuped again before bringing his head down between your thighs, putting your legs over his shoulders as he cautiously placed his hands onto the points of your hips

It only took a second before he shoved his face into your cunt, whimpering at your smell and taste as he licked between your folds. You gasped, feeling his tongue eagerly lap up your slick as it leaked out of you, his low whimpers vibrating deliciously against you. "Leon~... oh~.. easy, boy..."

You reached a hand down to gently stroke his hair, attempting to get the puppy hybrid to calm down a bit still. He was obviously so eager to please, though he was still shaken up by the punishment; tears falling from his eyes, quiet sobs muffled by your pussy, eyes closed, and cheeks flushed a beautiful pink. His tail had started to wag again and you were relieved to see it sway slowly. You just wanted to see your puppy happy and excitable again like he always was.

Leon continued to lap at your cunt, keeping himself firmly buried in it. His breathing was a bit shaky but you just let him do what he needed to do, reaching your hand to the right a bit so you could stroke one of his soft floppy ears. He sighed at the feeling, his tail wagging a little faster.

"That's a good boy, Leon~... god- such a good boy for his mommy.." You praised the hybrid as he worked his mouth on you, the praise causing him to whine into your cunt. His eyes peaked open, looking up at you as small tears fell from them. "Good boy~..." You ran your hand down to stroke your thumb between his eyes, prompting him to close them again with a sigh.

Your words encouraged him further, sucking at your clit when his tongue wasn't buried inside of you. The puppy hybrid licked all around, making sure none of your sweet slick was left to waste. He eased his grip on your hips, partially worried he would hurt you, but mostly cause he adored the way you writhed when you drew close to your orgasm. He relished in how you pulled his head impossibly closer, practically grinding against his face, using him. What a good boy he was.

Leon was in heaven when you came, whimpering into your cunt as you gushed against his face. He made sure to lick up everything he could, even dipping down to your ass for a minute, tongue flat against the puckered hole. He'd be mad if he saw the couch got some of your juices.

After a moment, he pulled his head away, resting the side of his slick covered face against your thigh as he looked up at you with those puppy-dog eyes that you just couldn't resist. You knew what he wanted, and who were you to deny him?

"My good boy wanna fuck his mommy? Show his mommy what a good boy he is?" You whispered, to which he eagerly nodded in response, his ears perking up. You could hear his tail thump lazily against the back cushion of the couch, all the while watching him lick his lips. "I-I'll be a good boy for mommy. I'm a good boy-..good boy for mommy.." he mumbled quietly, hoisting himself up onto his haunches again after carefully laying your legs down off his shoulders. His thick cock was leaking pre-cum, flushed red at the tip while his knot was fully swollen. It was hard to look away.

Leon continued to mumble to himself, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he was a good boy. His breathing was still shaky as he watched you flip over, your ass up in the air while you rested your elbows on the armrest of the couch.

The poor thing was practically drooling at the sight of you, frozen in place, just staring at your glistening pussy. Your voice snapped him out of his trance, a hushed "Pretty boy..." causing him to lurch forward and mount you without further hesitation.

You cried out as he shoved his cock into you halfway, stopping only to grab the skin right above your collarbone with his teeth. He made sure he was positioned properly, shifting slightly before pushing his throbbing dick all the way. He whined at the way your slick walls gripped him, his knot pressed firmly against the outside of your cunt.

Leon's teeth broke skin as he began to piston in and out of you. He was drooling, whimpering, moaning, and his tail was wagging so fast. He loved the way his mommy felt, gripping his so tightly, sucking his thick cock in.

His let go of your skin to lick at gently, which was a stark contrast to his fast and rough thrusts. "So sorry mommy- sososo sorry.. never growl at you again- ah~..! I-I'll be mommy's good-.. good boy.."

The hybrid panted next to your ear, reaching his hands up and under your loose shirt to grip and massage your breasts. His fingers pinched and tugged at your sensitive nipples, causing you to moan loudly. You could feel every bit of his cock as he slammed it into you over and over again, the tip kissing your cervix which made you hiss at the slight pain it caused.

"Gonna- hnghh~.. gonna fill mommy up.. gonna be mommy's best boy again..." Leon whined, tilting his head to the side so he could nip at your neck, kissing and licking under your jaw. He sucked numerous hickeys down your neck, making quick work of the other side as well. He wanted you to remember how good he was for you, how much he was willing to do to make things better, what a good boy he was for you.

It didn't take long for him to near his own orgasm, his chin resting over your shoulder as his hands had worked their way back to your hips. He was so close; the sounds of your moans, the sinful way your pussy squelched with slick as he fucked into you, your smell, the lingering taste of you on his tongue, everything was just so overwhelming.

The puppy hybrid didn't have the words to give you warning, only a long drawn out whine as his hips stuttered forward, knot stretching you open. You came again from the feeling, barely being able to clench around his knot. It was just so big.

With his cum pumping into you, you could only groan pleasantly at the feeling of being so full, his knot having basically plugged you to the point that none of it could escape.

You could partially register Leon running his hands up and down your body, anywhere he could reach in his position, bunching up your shirt in the process. His large hands felt nice, helping you come down from your high. He was whispering something, you couldn't make out what, but it was probably the same thing he'd been spewing before.

~

After Leon was able to pull out of you, you made sure to reassure him over and over that he was your good boy, and he'd always be your good boy.

You made him a little snack once you'd cleaned yourself and him up, seeing as the park and your at-home playtime had influenced his appetite quite a bit. You loved to see him happy again; those beautiful blue eyes crinkled with a smile as that fluffy tail of his wagged.

Your body finally realized how tired it was once more, your brain catching up with that as well. You waved Leon, who was elated to follow you, into your room, practically bounding in like a deer. He begged to lay the way you two did on the couch, and again, who were you to deny him?

You laid back, head on your pillow as Leon nestled himself on top of you. He laid his head on your chest, turning his head to the left as he rested his arms on either side of you, his hands just barely tucked up under your pillow after pulling the blankets up over the both of you.

"You're the greatest boy anyone could ask for, Leon. Always taking such good care of me.." you whispered as his eyes closed, his tail going from a lazy wag to a stop as he fell asleep.

"I love you, my sweet boy.."

[graywaynewriter]

Would you write gn!reader x mark meeting at UU perhaps during a class and hitting it off 😌 season 2 mark has me in a chokehold

Classmates

A/N: OH believe me ik what you’re talking about 😫

It wasn’t exactly the most exciting lecture, but you were trying your best to stay awake. The professor’s voice was more of a steady drone than anything else, and your notes were slowly turning into doodles on the side of your page.

You glanced around the lecture hall, hoping for some kind of mental reset, when your eyes landed on someone sliding into the empty seat beside you — a guy you hadn’t seen in this class before. Messy dark hair, warm brown eyes, a backpack slung over one shoulder like he hadn’t decided whether he was staying long or not.

He gave you a quick, slightly awkward smile as he settled in, and somehow, it was way more charming than it had any right to be.

"Hey," he whispered, glancing toward the front of the room before leaning slightly toward you. "This is Intro to Political Science, right?"

You bit back a grin. "Yeah. Unless we’re both in the wrong place."

He chuckled — a low, genuine sound — and you felt the corner of your mouth tug upward in response. Something about him felt... easy. Familiar, even though you’d just met.

"I’m Mark," he said, offering his hand for a quick shake under the table, like you were sharing some kind of secret.

You took it, feeling a little spark of excitement you couldn't quite explain. "Nice to meet you, Mark. I’m Y/N"

Maybe this class wouldn’t be so boring after all.

Now, the political science class was indeed very boring. However, sneaking in small jokes during the lecture made the two hours pass much more quickly. At one point, the class had fallen silent, and Mark accidentally chuckled from a note you had passed to him.

After class ended, you both replayed those moments in your minds, finally letting out a joyful laugh.

“Oh my god, my stomach!” Mark embraced himself by a wall as he laughed at a joke you had made about the professor’s taupe.

As you laugh at your own joke and Mark’s reaction, he had suddenly asked

“Hey, would you like to grab some coffee? There’s a really nice place just across the street from campus,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder without specifying a direction. You couldn’t help but feel a slight blush at his offer. Of course, he was incredibly attractive—tall, intelligent, and incredibly sweet. Compared to many of the guys here, he was actually pleasant to interact with.

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart picked up at the offer.

“Yeah,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steady. “That sounds nice.”

Mark’s lips curved into a smile before he motioned for you to follow him.

“C’mon. It’s not far.”

-

The two of you crossed the campus lawn, weaving through clusters of students. The sky had shifted into that late-afternoon gold, and everything around you felt a little softer, a little slower.

For a few steps, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. If anything, the silence felt easy—comfortable in a way that surprised you. Mark shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing over at you with a small, amused look.

“You know,” he said, “I think you might’ve saved me from falling asleep in class today. That note—” He laughed under his breath, “—was dangerously close to making me lose it.”

You grinned. “Honestly, you handled it better than I expected. I thought the professor was going to catch you. You giggle in such a high pitch” you tease him

Mark groaned dramatically. “If he had… I would’ve blamed you immediately.”

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully. “Coward.”

He gasped in mock offense but didn’t move away, and something about the casual closeness sent a flutter through your chest.

By the time you reached the little coffee shop, tucked between two bookstores, you were laughing again. Mark held the door open with a slight, almost shy gesture, and you stepped inside, surrounded by the smell of coffee and fresh pastries.

Deep down, you knew this could’ve been just another ordinary afternoon. But with Mark’s lingering gaze, it felt like something more was about to happen.

Suddenly, your peaceful coffee break was shattered by a loud crash outside. It appeared that yet another supernatural villain had set its sights on the campus, and your immediate reaction was to turn to Mark, to seek refuge in a safe place.

Only when you turned around did you find an empty seat, his coffee, and a napkin that read,

“Sorry had to run! Uh call me?->”

With his number at the end adorned with a smiley face, of course, your concern was for Mark’s safety and whereabouts. But before you could even utter a word, everyone was pointing at the sky, as if it were invincible. And just like before, invincible came to the rescue, saving the day once again.

-🧚🏼

[capricorn-writes2]

Hey! I would like to request again with Horror, Killer, Dust, Ganz and Reaper to help S/O who cannot sleep. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Horror Sans, Killer Sans, Dust Sans, Reaper Sans and Ganz with Insomniac S/O

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A/N: Hello, Anon! Thank you so much for requesting this headcanon, and I tried my best to give the best portrayal for these guys. I hope you like the final result, and I'm sorry if there might be some OOC characters. I am really sorry, but I have to close the asks because my asks are overflowing, especially in the other account.

Warning: Mention of Insomnia, tiny description of violence. Gender: Neutral

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Horror Sans: Horrortale

Horror Sans keeps a stash of hot cocoa (extra thick) for your worst nights, even if it's hard to find in the Underground, where food is quite scarce in here. He lets it simmer until it’s just right, then shoves it in your hands.

He doesn’t sleep much himself, so when you’re tossing and turning at 3AM, he’s already up, carving wood or sharpening his cleaver. When he hears your sighs, he puts his tools down without a word and climbs into bed. One giant arm wrapped around you.

Sometimes, when you can't sleep at all, he takes you on silent walks through the underground ruins. The broken halls and empty echoes oddly soothe your racing mind.

He carves little trinkets for you when he knows you’ve had several bad nights in a row. A tiny bone charm, a wooden heart, even a keychain shaped like a sleeping skull. They’re crude, but strangely they ease your mind because it feels like he was there for you.

When you cry out in your sleep, Horror jolts awake instantly, eyes glowing red. He doesn’t shake you to wake you up. Horror Sans just murmurs your name, rubbing circles on your back until you stir or cuddle you.

Sometimes, he tells you stories, gruesome, broken fairy tales from the Underground. He softens the gore just for you, weaving his trauma into tales that somehow feel familiar.

He once let you draw on his bones during a particularly sleepless night. You doodled stars and hearts across his ribs, giggling when he flinched at ticklish spots. Now he keeps a marker nearby, just in case.

He doesn’t understand everything about insomnia, but he understands pain, loneliness, and silence. That’s why he stays, through every sleepless night and morning. He never asks you to be okay. He just stays next to you in the darkness.

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The clock blinked 2:57 AM, its red digits glowing like tiny, merciless eyes in the corner of the room. You stared at the ceiling, wide awake, your limbs heavy with exhaustion but your mind spinning like it was being chased. The silence was loud. Too loud. Every creak of the floor, every distant hum from outside, seemed like something waiting, lurking.

You turned over for the twelfth time, pulling the blanket tighter around you, but it wasn’t warmth you needed. You needed something to calm your racing thoughts. The door creaked open softly, and the familiar silhouette filled the doorway. Broad shoulders, a glowing crimson eye, and a jagged grin that somehow never looked threatening when it was turned toward you.

Horror Sans didn’t speak at first; he just stepped into the room, the floorboards groaning under his weight like they knew he was someone to be respected, even by the house itself. In his hands: a chipped mug of cocoa and a small carved bone charm tied to a string. “Could smell your thoughts from downstairs,” he rasped, his voice like gravel soaked in black coffee. “Kept me from my nap. Rude, ain’tcha?” But his grin softened.

Horror Sans walked over as his footsteps made a creaking sound from the wooden floor, placing the mug on the nightstand and the charm gently into your palm. You clutched it tightly, its surface warm from his hand. The room felt a little safer already. He sat beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his massive frame. “Wanna talk?” He asked, his tone surprisingly gentle for someone who once tore a monster in half for looking at him wrong.

You shook your head, and instead of prying, he leaned back against the headboard and opened one arm, wordlessly inviting you closer. You curled into his side, head resting on his chest, feeling the faint thrum of magic through his bones. “Close your eyes,” he murmured. “You don’t gotta sleep. Just rest. I’ll stay.” His fingers were cold but firm.

His fingers moved in slow circles along your shoulder. In the darkness, his presence filled every corner like a ward against whatever shadows haunted you. You thought you’d feel small next to him. After a while, he started humming. Low and slow, like a lullaby carved out of broken memories. There were no words, just sound and vibration and something old behind it, something kind.

You breathed in deeply, his scent all smoke, ash, and something earthy, like he’d fought monsters in the forest and never truly left. His thumb brushed your cheek once as he was careful that the sharp part of his claws didn't touch you, just enough to ground you. “Night ain’t got nothin’ on you,” he whispered.

Your body sank deeper into him, muscles slowly relaxing one by one. You weren't asleep yet, but your mind wasn’t racing anymore. Not with his humming, not with that charm still clenched in your hand, and not with his arm across you like a blanket. He wasn’t perfect, but he was yours and somehow, in his arms, even the monsters under your bed seemed to keep their distance.

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Killer Sans: Something New

Killer doesn’t sleep much either, so when you’re awake at 4AM staring at the ceiling, chances are he’s hanging upside-down from your doorframe. “Can’t sleep, babe? Good. Let’s go commit insomnia crimes together.” He means playing card games, not actual crime… this time.

When your insomnia hits hard, Killer builds a blanket fort around you using stolen bedsheets, pillows, and questionable tape wrapped around the fort to make it steady. Inside, it’s cozy and lit by tiny fairy lights he definitely didn’t steal.

He doodles on your arms with a red pen when you’re too restless to stay still. He draws little skulls, sleepy eyes, and hearts with knives in them. Sometimes he kisses your hand afterward like you’re royalty.

He sneaks out to get your favorite snacks and drinks when you're having a hard night. It doesn’t matter if it’s 1 AM or 5 in the morning. He’s got sticky fingers and zero morals. Shows up with a bag of Cheetos and cans of Coca-Cola or Dr. Pepper.

On the worst nights, he lets you lie on top of him while he traces shapes on your back. His gloves are rough, but his touch is so careful you could cry. He tells you stories of twisted fairy tales where the villain always wins.

Or sometimes Killer keeps your favorite movie downloaded and ready when it was your worst night. You don’t even watch it sometimes; you just let it play in the background as the sound soothes you.

If you ever fall asleep in a weird position, he doesn’t move you. Instead, he moves himself around you like a puzzle piece. Once you woke up with him curled around your legs like a cat.

When you can’t stop pacing, he mirrors you, walking in circles dramatically. “New sport: Midnight Marathon. The first one to fall asleep wins.” You roll your eyes, but it makes you smile when he jokes.

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You weren’t sure what time it was, but the glow from your phone screen said it was way too late to still be awake and way too early to give up trying. The ceiling had become your favorite thing to stare at lately, not because it was interesting, but because at least it didn’t talk back. Your thoughts, though? Loud. Spinning. Buzzing like a glitch.

Even blinking felt exhausting now. You buried your face in your pillow with a sigh, half-hoping the universe would knock you out just to shut you up. The window creaked open with a familiar, unnecessary flair. Of course, he never used the door. “Knock knock, insomnia!” Killer’s voice rang out, too energetic for someone who probably hadn’t slept in a week either.

You sat up just enough to see him climbing through the frame like a smug cat burglar. “Guess who brought your favorite bag of salty death chips and tons of Dr.Peppers and Cola cans?" He grinned, eyes glowing in the dark, and a snicker escaped from him.

Then he tossed it onto the bed, kicked his boots off, and flopped beside you like gravity meant nothing. He smelled faintly of rust and trouble, chaotic comfort wrapped in a hoodie too big for someone who didn’t have skin. You didn’t have to say anything. He just knew. With a dramatic sigh

Killer Sans rolled over onto his side and propped his head up with his hand, the other one reaching out to poke your cheek. “You’ve been overthinking again, haven’t you? Tsk. Told you not to go in that haunted house you call a brain without me.” The jab was playful, but the concern in his voice was real. You didn’t answer, but you turned your face toward him, your silence enough of an answer. He suddenly reached into his hoodie and pulled out a red marker. “Alright. New plan.”

You didn’t even question it. Killer grabbed your arm gently and began drawing some little skulls with hearts for eyes, crooked stars, and cartoon knives with blood. His focus was intense, tongue poking out like a kid with crayons. “Therapy. Killer-style. If I can’t make you sleep, I’ll make your arm a distraction masterpiece.” You watched him, heart slow and quiet for the first time tonight. “Y’know,” he said softly after a while, “you don’t gotta force yourself. To sleep. To be okay. Just… be.”

The words were casual, tossed out like candy, but they stuck to your ribs like poetry. You looked at your arm that are now covered in doodles and realized you felt warmer than you had in hours. Killer dropped the pen and stretched out beside you, then pulled you gently to his chest. His bones were hard, sure, but his magic buzzed low and calm, like a lullaby under your skin.

He didn't say anything else. Just wrapped his hoodie around your body like a blanket that protects your from the cold. You closed your eyes, not to sleep, but to listen. You matched your breathing with his, letting the strange rhythm of him settle your nerves. And for once, your thoughts weren’t screaming. Just whispering. Slowing. Resting.

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Dust Sans: Dusttale

Dust isn’t the touchy-feely type, but the moment he finds out you haven’t been sleeping, he starts sticking around at night more often. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans in the doorway and watches you, like a guardian.

He hates the silence as much as you do. So when the room gets too quiet, he flicks his fingers and make a soft, low hum of magic to fill the space. It’s subtle, almost like static or wind, just enough to keep your thoughts from spiraling.

Dust has insomnia too, sometimes. So he doesn't judge when you’re wide awake at 3 a.m, just staring into nothing. Instead, he pulls out one of his old journals and starts writing, letting you listen to the scratch of pen on paper.

He has a stash of old books in his room, dusty and broken-spined. On the worst nights, he reads to you in his low, tired voice. Sometimes it’s horror. Sometimes it’s lore, or sometimes it’s his own writing.

Sometimes, He learns to sketch just to keep your mind busy. He hands you broken pencils and torn notebooks at 2 a.m., challenging you to draw a monster uglier than him. You always lose.

When you’re shaking from exhaustion, Dust lets you rest your head in his lap. He doesn’t move, even when his legs go numb or the world outside gets too loud. One hand rests on your head, thumb brushing your temple in slow, repetitive motions.

Dust memorizes your bedtime routine. Even if it’s dumb, even if it doesn’t work, he does it with you. Brushes his teeth at the same time, turns off lights together. It becomes something sacred between you two.

He once built you a dreamcatcher out of bone and thread. It’s crooked, a little creepy, and probably cursed. But you hung it above the bed anyway. And somehow, since then, the dreams haven’t been so scary.

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You didn’t know what time it was. The world outside your window had melted into that liminal kind of dark, where even the moon looked half-asleep and the street lamps buzzed like distant insects. Your eyes were heavy, but your mind was wide awake with thoughts jumping between regrets, missed texts, and unspoken worries. You hated this feeling: trapped between the want to rest and the inability to shut your brain up.

The door creaked open without a knock, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. His footsteps were too quiet, calculated. Dust never walked like a normal person, he moved like someone who expected a fight, even in your bedroom. “Still awake,” he muttered, not a question. You hummed in response, watching as he sank into the chair beside your bed.

His hoodie half-falling off his shoulder, sockets dim with exhaustion he’d never admit to. He didn’t ask what was wrong. Dust never wasted words like that nor the type to ask many questions. Instead, he reached into his hoodie and pulled out a cracked thermos filled with tea, handing it to you. “It’s bitter,” he warned.

You took it anyway, the metal still warm from wherever he’d gone to get it. The first sip made you wince, it tasted like old herbs, medicine and despair. “You’ll live,” he grunted, clearly amused by your face. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was with him. You listened to the quiet hum of his magic, that low, pulsing thrum like a heartbeat beneath your own.

It made the air feel heavier, safer somehow like if any nightmare tried to crawl out from under your bed, it would disintegrate before touching you. Dust rested his head back against the wall, one glowing eye flickering toward you now and then. “You’re thinking too loud,” he said. You sighed, curling your fingers around the thermos. “I know.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and held out his hand. You hesitated, then gave him yours. His grip was rough but careful enough not to accidentally prick you, his fingers cold, but he traced small circles into your palm like he’d been doing it his whole life. “You don’t gotta fix it all tonight. Just… stay. Breathe....” he murmured, voice lower now.

He pulled something from his jacket pocket, a stubby pencil and a wrinkled notebook. “Let’s draw ugly things,” he suggested, like it was the most natural response to insomnia. You blinked. “What kind of ugly things?” “Like that thought that told you you’re not good enough. Let’s make it fat and give it six arms.” You laughed, just a little. He smirked, and the sound made his soul flare gently in his chest.

You lost track of time. The notebook filled with sketches and doodles, half-formed monsters and imaginary fears with googly eyes and terrible fashion sense. Somewhere between a grumpy scribble of your anxiety and his horribly disproportionate sketch of your math teacher, your breathing evened out. You leaned your head against his shoulder without thinking. He didn’t move away. Just rested his skull against yours and let the silence settle in again.

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Reaper Sans: Reapertale

Reaper doesn’t sleep either, at least not like mortals do. But the moment he learns you suffer from insomnia, he begins appearing at your bedside more often. Not to judge, not to fix, just to be there for you.

He calls you “beloved” in the softest way possible. Like the word itself might shatter if spoken too loud. When you’re curled in bed, tense and wired, he’ll whisper it near your ear. And it makes the monsters in your head pause.

He will whisper your name like a prayer. When you’re shaking, when your thoughts won’t shut up, when you feel alone like there was no one was there for you. He speaks it softly, over and over, anchoring you to the present.

Reaper reads ancient texts in a deep, rhythmic voice. Not all of it makes sense, some in dead languages, others in stories forgotten by time. But the sound of his voice lulls you into calmness.

He conjures a thin veil of shadow over the windows. Not just to block the light, but to mute the world, silencing the honks, the wind, even the ticking clock. To him, sleep is sacred; not even Death should disturb it.

Reaper’s cloak becomes your second blanket. Heavy, slightly cold, smelling like magic and grave lilies. When you curl up in it, it feels like being wrapped in the night sky itself.

He draws sigils in the air, casting soft charms for peace and silence. They hang invisible around your bed to wards of calm, of rest, of dreamless slumber. “Nothing dark may trespass here,” he says solemnly.

He has a near-perfect memory. So he repeats the things that helped before: the right words, the exact position that made you sigh, a cold comfortable pillows, a warm water for your throat, sleep masks, the lullaby from week two. He tailors his care like a ritual.

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The ceiling above your bed stared back at you, painted with shadows and the slow crawl of hours you couldn’t name. You’d counted the cracks in the paint, memorized the rustle of the curtain, even listened to the hum of your heart like it might lull you to sleep. But nothing worked. Sleep had abandoned you again.

A cold breeze stirred the air, though no windows were open. You didn’t flinch. You knew that sensation by now, the quiet arrival of something otherworldly, dark yet comforting, and the hush that followed. When you blinked, Reaper Sans stood by the foot of your bed, framed by nothing but the dark. His cloak moved like smoke in water, face half-lit by the soft blue glow of his soul. “Still awake, beloved?”

You didn’t answer. Just nodded, too tired to pretend it was fine. He said nothing more, simply walked across the room and sat beside you. His scythe always with him, always gleaming with ghost-light, hovered in the corner, like a silent sentinel. You could smell the magic clinging to him: lavender, ash, and something like ancient ink. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was…comforting.

Without asking, he extended his arm, and you curled instinctively into his side. His robes were cold, but his magic hummed with a warmth you didn’t understand. Death shouldn’t be comforting, but he was. “I cast a ward earlier. It should help with the voices tonight," he said quietly.

You hadn’t told him about the voices, those fleeting thoughts that liked to whisper lies in the silence. But of course he knew. His hand rose slowly, carefully brushing your hair away from your face, as though you were made of silk or something long buried. “Your soul is loud when it suffers, I hear it calling me, even in the realm between," he added.

You felt your throat tighten at that. No one had ever said your pain was heard. Not like this. Not like it mattered. You wanted to tell him everything. How afraid you were of your own thoughts. How the night made everything worse. But you didn’t have to because he pulled his cloak around both of you, sheltering you in that strange, sacred space where sleep wasn’t forced, but invited. “Let me share the night with you,” he whispered.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time melted beside Reaper, soft and slow. The flicker of his magic reflected on the wall in constellations that weren’t real but made you feel small in a comforting way. You focused on the rhythm of his soul’s pulse, a deep, slow echo beneath his ribs. And the protective way he curled his arm around your side like a shield from unseen things.

When sleep finally began to creep in, you felt him shift slightly. Not to move, not to leave, but just to settle in more deeply beside you. His voice came one last time, a whisper that reached into the growing stillness of your thoughts. “Sleep now. I’ll keep the world away.”And for once, you believed him.

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Ganz : GZTale

Image Source: SkyDixie

Ganz isn’t the type to say much, but he notices everything. When you’re tossing and turning, he doesn’t question it. Instead, he lies beside you, skull tilted your way, watching with a soft glowing eye.

He starts keeping track of your insomnia patterns. Not in a notebook, but mentally, like he’s preparing for battle. If he senses the signs from twitchy fingers and far-off stare. He’s already planning how to help.

Ganz will light up the room with little flickers of magic. Not too bright, just enough to distract your mind from racing thoughts. Sometimes they form shapes such as foxes, ghosts, symbols from his world.

Sometimes, he tells you stories from his world. They’re weird, a little violent, and full of sarcastic commentary. But they make you focus, it give you something real and chaotic to focus on.

He learns what helps you calm down such as music, humming, fidgeting. Then he offers them without being asked. You want music? He’s already queuing your playlist in the spotify or from the youtube.

On the worst nights, he doesn’t say a word. He just pulls you into his chest, holds you tightly, and doesn’t let go. His magic flares up just enough to warm your back and his silence are comforting.

He sometimes takes you to the underground ruins via portal. Not to scare you, just to walk so your mind can be distracted by the view. The ancient silence calms your nerves, and the glowstones help your eyes rest.

When you do finally fall asleep, he doesn’t move. Not even to check his phone. He just watches over you, bones still, magic soft. And if a nightmare flickers in your expression, he’s ready to fight it.

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It was 2:47 a.m. when your brain decided sleep was off the table. Again. You’d been staring at the ceiling so long, the texture had turned into mountains, and your thoughts had gone from overthinking what you said at dinner to imagining alien civilizations made of cheese. Everything was quiet, too quiet for your likiking.

And then, the air shifted. A chill, a disturbance in the space between the seconds. A presence you couldn’t mistake. Ganz stood at the edge of your bed, his glowing eye cutting through the darkness like a lighthouse in a storm. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you with that poker face, arms crossed. “Tough night?” he asked in his usual gravelly tone, though his gaze softened.

You couldn’t manage words, just a half-hearted nod as you buried your face into your pillow. It was too much tonight—too many thoughts, too many anxieties that kept you up, relentless in their pursuit. He seemed to read it in the way your shoulders slumped, the way your breath hitched.

Ganz didn’t offer a magical fix or an empty platitude. Instead, he sat down beside you, his presence solid and grounding, like the only thing that was real in a sea of chaos. Without a word, he reached out, his skeletal fingers brushing your hand, offering warmth that didn’t quite belong to him. “C’mon, let's get some fresh air. The night’s too big to let it eat you alive," he muttered.

And with that, he tugged you up, guiding you outside with a force that was oddly gentle for a being like him. The cool night air hit your face, sharp and fresh. Ganz pulled you onto the rooftop, where the city sprawled beneath you, the lights a distant constellation of dreams. "Isn't this better?" he asked, settling beside you as the wind tousled his jacket.

You nodded, your heartbeat slowing, just a little. The vastness of the night was no longer suffocating, but freeing. His voice broke the silence again, not forceful, but comforting. “Sometimes you gotta step out of your head, y’know? The stars don’t care about your worries.” His hand casually brushed against yours, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And for a moment, it was.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, letting the quiet of the world mix with the strange warmth of his magic. When the weight of exhaustion finally began to pull at your eyelids, Ganz made no move to rush you back inside. Instead, he hummed a low, comforting sound, the kind that only someone like him could produce. “You gonna make it through the night?” he asked, not teasing. It was an offer that he would be willing to stay awake as long as you need him to be. “I can stay up as long as you need. I’m used to it.” He finally says.

Eventually, you found your way back to your bed, though now, it didn’t feel so oppressive. Ganz didn’t leave. Instead, he laid beside you, his cool body curving protectively around you. His arm draped over you, not too tight, just enough to feel his presence. “The world’s still out there, waiting for you to wake up. But for now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper “just sleep, for once," and with that, the tension in your body eased.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

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[knightfcll]

nightcap

welt x reader, 1.6k

note: 🤪 im like not even caught up but i love this gilf tew much okay bye. My first reader fic on da blog, blease be nice 2 me <3

content notes: ❗️❗️🔞🔞🔞❗️❗️ explicit smut here, minors do NOT interact!!! Reader is gender neutral, no specific references to pronouns/body type/genitalia for reader, brief oral sex, penetrative sex, reader calls welt “mr yang” a lot 🥴

The Astral Express is quiet. You've finally returned after another long and difficult journey on another strange, new planet. Everyone else has retired to their own rooms for a well deserved rest, but you still wander the halls. Mr. Yang had stayed behind for this assignment and to say that you felt his absence was an understatement.

You had lasted all of five minutes in your own bed before throwing off the covers and deciding to seek him out. Without the exhaustion of adventure weighing him down, he's likely still awake, perhaps poring over a newspaper from your latest excursion. You make sure to bring one back for him if he's not there; he says it's so he can get a better idea of what effect the Stellaron's had on the planet, but you see how quickly he turns to the comic strips. You'll catch him doodling the characters later, sometimes changing their features, doing two and three different sketches that he thinks you won't see.

You're only half right. You find him almost exactly as you'd imagined when you slip into his room, except his brows are furrowed. He's tapping a pencil against the paper.

“Need any help, Mr. Yang?”

He looks at you briefly before returning to his crossword puzzle. "Evening. And yes."

You smile and saunter towards him, crawling onto the bed eagerly. He opens his arms without prompting, allowing you to settle into his lap with your back to his chest. He has most of it filled out already, with only the bottom left grid glaringly empty. Mr. Yang is one of the smartest people, which is why you like to tease him when he has to ask you for help with these things, but he's also the most mature, which accounts for the good natured chuckle you typically get in response.

"What's the clue?"

"Eight letters. 'Hot term for a recent admirer.'"

You make a show of scrunching up your face and delicately take the pencil from him. Your handwriting isn't quite as neat as his, but finds a certain charm in it.

Welt hums appreciatively. "'New flame.' I think you could be right."

You beam. "Bested by the newcomer, Mr. Yang. You'll have to ask me to explain strange things out in the wild next time we leave the Express."

He chuckles. He thinks it's cute when you try to tease him like this; you're all bark and no bite, really. You fold as soon as he gets his hands on you.

Like right now, as his fingers ghost over your thigh. You lean into it as much as you can, but he's so good at holding back. It's the sweet sting of having someone like Welt for a lover: a wealth of experience to keep you satisfied for hours on end, but the patience and precision needed to keep you just on edge until he thinks you're ready.

"Did you need something?" He says it so casually, like he doesn't know your skin is burning underneath him.

You turn your head to look at him. It's there again, that little bit of sharpness in his gaze that seems to go right through you. He's already thinking about all the ways he can unmake you.

"Just you," you say, waiting the precious few moments it takes for the spark to ignite.

Welt kisses you, softly at first. His hands roam over your thighs, just ghosting underneath your sleep shorts. You whine the third time he does it, unable to handle the loss of his touch. He pulls away.

“Patience.”

You pout. He notices everything. “I’m not impatient.”

He humphs in disbelief. “Don’t make a sound until I tell you to.”

Any other night, you might protest his rigidity. Be the brat he likes you to be, until you’re a sobbing mess in hands, begging him to just fuck you and stop teasing. Tonight, however, you’re inclined towards obedience. You hush up and wait the agonizing few moments that he waits, watching for any sign of defiance. Satisfied, he kisses you again, hungrier this time, sliding his tongue over yours. You hold back a moan when he digs his fingers into your thighs.

Welt pushes you down. He trails his lips down your body, over your chest, your sensitive nipples. He halts just below your belly button, kissing the skin lightly while he pulls down your shorts. You shiver once your exposed to the cool air.

Anticipation burns inside you when he pulls your leg up and over his shoulder. He slowly teases your entrance with his tongue, giving it slow, featherlight licks that he soon follows up with a finger.

“Mr. Yang,” you say, unable to resist calling out as he speeds up.

He doesn’t respond, choosing to punish you instead by letting up. He knows it’s agony, feeling his warm breath on you where you need him most.

It’s too much. You give up on obedience and let desperation take hold as you grab at welt’s shoulders and pull him in to kiss you. Your taste lingers on his tongue. “Mr. Yang, please…“

Welt palms at your ass. It’s a nice reminder that he’s far more affected by you than he typically comes off. Although his words are often measured and his tone even, the way he touches you is nothing short of ravenous.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

You’re on the brink of tears now. Your legs are locked around his hips, his fingers are rubbing and pinching your nipple. He knows, but he likes to make you say it. “Mr. Yang, please, please,”

He doesn’t budge. You reach for the drawstring on his pants yourself, but he grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth instead. “You can speak, can’t you? Use your words.”

You watch as he pulls your finger into his mouth, sucking on it lightly. He’ll keep going, ignoring your pleas while he toys with you long past the rising of the sun. He’s done it before.

You draw a shaky breath.

“Mr. Yang, I need you inside me.”

You wait for his response. He almost looks bored, that half-awake look he gets when he’s quizzing you on the values of each Aeon with hands roaming across your chest.

He kisses your palm. “Keep going.”

“Welt,” his given name falls from your lips, a strained whisper that sets Welt on edge, “please fuck me, I can’t take it anymore, please.“

Welt lets go of your hand. He disentangles himself from you fully, ignoring your desperate whines. You hear his pants fall to the floor and then he’s hovering over you again, sliding a hand under your shoulder.

“Turn around.”

You hear him, but you’re too distracted by the sight of his weeping cock to really pay attention. He sighs and gently lifts you, maneuvering you so you’re on your hands and knees with your back to him.

Tears of relief fall down your face when Welt drapes himself over your back. You feel him lining himself up with your entrance. You shudder when he finally enters you. His grip on your waist tightens. He lets his cock stay sheathed in you for an agonizing moment before he pulls out and starts to set a rhythm. The slow friction stirs something in Welt; he lets go of your waist and covers your hand with his own. He curses above you and moves in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“I want to hear you. Please,” Welt gasps. It makes your heart skip.

You call out to him, moaning his name in a quiet voice that gets louder and louder as his thrusts quicken. Your words become more frantic, endless declarations of how much you need him interrupted by broken sobs of pleasure. Welt speaks your name, too, in between ragged breaths and the rapid stuttering of his hips, curses falling from his lips in a constant prayer.

“Mr. Yang,” you say, because you know how his breathing stops when you call him that, just like the first time it did when he had you on your knees in his bedroom, “Mr. Yang, I love you.”

Welt’s final thread of composure snaps. He hooks his arm around your throat and buried his face in your neck. His hips slap against you harder than before, but he still has the presence of mind to reach down and tease you one last time to put you over the edge. Waves of ecstasy roll through as you give one final, strangled shout.

Welt follows soon after, his thrusts becoming increasingly erratic until he buries himself to the hilt and groans deep into your skin. You both slump forward, breathing heavily. He kisses your neck sloppily before finally pulling out with a sigh. He pulls you once to get you to clean up, but you don’t budge, a telltale look of bliss on your face. He gives up and leaves you, returning with clean cloths to wipe you down. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he flips you onto your back and takes care of you.

“Thanks, Welt.”

He smiles softly, but doesn’t look at you, focused on his task. He climbs back into the bed once he’s done, flat on his back. You lean over and rest your head on his chest.

Exhaustion weighs you down suddenly. Even though you left the mission early to see Welt, the trip back to the express hadn’t been easy. It feels like you’ll drift off into sleep as soon as you close your eyes. So you do, but not before reaching up to kiss Welt just under his chin.

[justwonder113]

I love your writing sm 🫠🫠

could you write something fluffy and suggestive for han were you sit on his lap in his studio chair and you can’t stop kissing him and you’re distracting him from his work and he finds it so cute that you’re like this x

Oh my god thank you so much sweetheart! You don't know how much it means to me that you like my writing. I'm really sorry for taking so long to write, even though I absolutely LOVED the idea!!! I had one the meltdowns and uni has been an absolute nightmare so sorry. I really hope this was what you wanted and I hope you will like it. I will try to update stories more and more. Thankfully I will have more time^^

My masterlist

If you have any requests feel free to ask(though it might take me some time)

Warnings: Kind of suggestive, Bold reader, Cute whiney Jisung but he does complete 180 in the end. Jisung calls reader a brat

Word count -1.6k

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

23:33

You woke up from your sweet slumber by soft clicking of the keyboard. You didn't even realize when you started to dose off. All the work must have caught up to you. The week you had sure was hectic.

You looked at your boyfriend's hunched figure, he was deeply immersed in his work, he hadn't even noticed that you were awake. You felt sad, you barely saw each other. Your schedule was swarmed and he had comeback coming real soon. You tried to text and call but sometimes he was just so swarmed with work he responded hours later. He was really apologetic, he really tired his best. He texted you whenever he could, he sent gifts for you, sometimes flowers, sometimes food, when he knew your schedule was extra hectic. He also left you little notes around the house and, lets just say, randomly finding them was highlight of your day. Sometimes they were sweet messages, sometimes random quotes, sometimes silly little jokes and doodles. You loved every one of them and kept them in a little box in your room. You also tried to be just as supportive, this is why you were here in his studio, you came earlier with food and snacks for him and the boys. Jisung had barely texted you the whole day, so you knew he was extra busy, also you got suspicious that he wouldn't eat anything, he always got so involved with his work he sometimes forgot to even eat.

You were not wrong. Jisung shyly admitted to you that he, in fact, skipped a meal when you asked if he ate anything. Good for him that he was so cute and adorable you never had the ability to stay mad at him. He got so happy when he saw you that he almost knocked you down. He really was so adrable. The boys also thanked you, and you ate together, talking about what you were up to.

You talked for a while but one by one they left to do their own stuff leaving you with Jisung. Honestly, you were glad to be left alone with him, you've missed him too much. You talked with hushed voice, not once he let go of you, he was hugging you like a koala and showered your face with kisses. You couldn't help but giggle at his cute antics. After a while he excused himself and asked you to wait a little bit as he finished his song, promising to quickly wrap it up and go home together. But here you were now, still stuck in the studio.

You scanned around to find your phone to check the time, Jisung must have noticed you had fallen asleep and draped his jacket to keep you warm . He really was cute but you really wanted to scold him. He already worked inhuman hours he really was straining his body!

Your eyes almost popped out of your eyes when you noticed that it was basically midnight. Oh he really was done for now!

You got up, groaning from pain, your muscles were sore from laying on this uncomfortable sofa. After stretching a little you approached him, he was so immersed he didn't even notice you. You couldn't help but scoff when you carefully examined his face. His eyes were so red from looking at this damn screen all day. Apart from bloodshot eyes, he had dark eyebags, he looked a paler and you didn't know if you were exaggerating or not but he also looked a bit thinner. Also there was no way his body wouldn't ache from sitting like that, especially after dancing and practicing for ungodly amounts of time.

You carefully threaded your fingers through his hair and leaned down to kiss his cheek. He did jump a little not expecting your touch but he quickly relaxed and leaned into it. He opened his arms and looked at you with wide eyes expecting you to get into his lap and hug him. Sadly, it also meant that he still wasn't done. You sighed yet again, there was no way you could win this one. You complied and sat in his lap. Jisung immediately wrapped his arm around you and brought you closer to him so that you were chest to chest with no room between you, he quickly pecked your cheek and went back to working.

You tried your best to sit still and let him work so that you could go home as soon as possible, but you were also getting really bored.

After a minute or two an idea popped into your head. You shuffled a bit and hid your face into the crook of his neck, the smell of his perfume immediately soothing your senses. You put your right hand on his chest and wrapped the other around his shoulders. You waited for a second so that Jisung would think you were just getting comfortable, if he even noticed you moving around that is... The truth was that Han Jisung was really ticklish and his neck was especially sensitive. Whenever you decided to kiss his neck he would always reel back giggling and pouting at you cutely. He would always try and run away from you whenever he sensed that you were about to attack his neck. But where would he go now? You were in his lap, there was no way he could run.

You somewhat felt bad, he was always so sweet and gentle to you and no matter how ticklish he was he always let you snuggle up to his neck knowing that you loved it. Should you betray his trust like this?

He did notice you shuffling around, he tensed up for a second when your nose brushed against his sensitive skin but he quickly relaxed. You grinned it was your time to shine!

Carefully not to alert him you brushed your lips against his neck. The response was immediate, his hold around your waist immediately tightened. Oh you were going to get a reaction out of him one way or another. You kissed him again but with more passion now and quickly pecked him few more times. Jisung glanced at you but he didn't say anything. Oh he was on!

You continued your assault on his reddening skin and pecked every part of his skin you could reach one arm around his shoulders while the other had slid through his neck and into his hair playing with the silky soft stands on his nape, oaccasionaly pulling them drawing soft quiet groans from the boy. He whined out your name so prettily! And let's just say you absolutely adored his "little" reactions. He was set on staying as still as he could and act as if this whole thing didn't affect him at all but you could see right through him. "Babyy." He whined out but you didn't stop. His skin was all flushed in a beautiful shade of red, his breathing had become more rugged and shalllow. His left hand held onto your hip for dear life and brought you as close to him as it possibly could as if you would dissappear if he let go. God you loved this boy! You kissed him more and let's just say you hoped his jacket had a high collar because you had left really pretty marks onto his skin. You would gladly show it to the world but you were not sure how his fans would react if anyone were to see you and share photos. And you knew many stays had hawklike vision.

You didn't even consider to stop your attack, Jisung hadn't even done anything to stop you so, you let yourself go. It was only when you moved a little and started kissing his jaw and in the haze let your teeth graze against his skin that he held you tightly and pulled you off.

You looked at him with confused eyes, his face unreadable. Did you upset him? Was he mad? You were about to apologize when he sighed out something and leaned in to smash his lips against yours, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Both of his hands were around your waist now, pulling you impossibly close, as if he wanted to devour you, wanted to be one with you, and who were you to deny him anything? You tried your best to keep up with him and return the kiss with the same burning passion but honestly you couldn't keep up. You didn't know what came up to him but you loved it. You felt like melting, like you really thought you could turn into a puddle, you felt ignited, you felt alive. There was no thought in your head other than that you loved this boy. Your lungs were burning but you weren't even considering to lean back for air. You were just consumed with Han Jisung.

It was Han who broke the kiss and leaned back to let you breathe. Both of you struggled to breathe normally, as if you had forgotten how to do so. You wanted to say something but were at loss for words, it was Han who broke the silence. He flicked your forehead and pouted at you. "You're a real brat do you know that?" You couldn't help but giggle. You swore this boy had some type of switch into his head. He almost made you melt into a puddle by giving you the best kiss of your life and now he was pouting at you all cutely like he did nothing wrong. God you loved him!

You grinned at him, "Does this mean we're going home?"

Han rolled his eyes and softly pinched your side. "Brat."

Yup, you had won.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated^^

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

[idontplaytrack]

well the little reader x gina fic was amazing, wouldn't expect anything else from it. Do you think we could get a little more of them? Pretty please?

Pretty like…

Regina George x fem! reader

Warnings: age regression, fluff

Cozy fall day with Regina 🧡

The usual green leaves have turned into crisp shades of orange and browns, the air's turned chilly, the people were bundled up in thicker layers and comfy outfits. The fall atmosphere always felt like the epitome of comfort to you, and you loved that.

Regina was typically a little grouchy because the weather wasn't particularly good for her back, but doesn't really complain seeing that you were so happy, obviously.

You had no classes today, but Regina did. She had a lecture from nine in the morning to noon while you only woke up at 10:30 so you didn't have to kill a lot of time before Regina came by. Since you were home alone, you were more relaxed because there was no one around to ask you what you were up to.

You were dozing off when you heard the front door open, and some swift steps walking up the stairs.

Because of that, you jolted awake, blinking profusely. Then someone knocked on your bedroom door. "Hey, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Yeah." You answered. The door opens up slowly a second later. "Hi, baby." She grins, "How you doin'?"

You rolled over onto your stomach, face smushed into the mattress. "I take it that means you're sleepy." She laughs, sitting down on your bed.

"No." You answered with a pout. She rubs your back, "C'mon, you can sleep if you want to, baby. That’s okay. Turn around.”

“Uh-uh.” You continued.

“Look at me, baby.” Regina nudged, “I don’t want you to face downwards.”

Slowly, you did as she told you to. “Hey, you.” Regina tickled your stomach, making you giggle. “Can I have a kiss?”

You nodded, puckering your lips as she leaned down to peck your lips.

“Should we get something to eat?” She asks, eyes locked in with yours. 

“Yes.” You agreed.

“Should we…go out?” 

You nodded excitedly, making her smile. “What do you want?” 

“Fries?” You asked.

“Okay, let’s go for some fries.” She helped you up and got you appropriately dressed for the chilly weather outside before you both got in her car. “Stay seated, okay?” She says while buckling you in. “Promise.” You nodded firmly. “Good.” Regina replied then started driving. Eventually, you both wound up in a quiet little diner a little ways away from where you both lived. You don’t remember this place. 

“Okay, here we are.” Regina declared while parking in the lot. “Best fries in Evanston. And they have really yummy ice cream.” 

“Ooh, I want ice cream toooo.” 

“We’ll be getting some, after lunch.” 

“Alright.” You sulked.

“Hey, I promise, baby.” She laughs. You do the same while she unbuckles your seatbelt. “Let’s go have some food.”

She took your hand and led you to the diner. Quickly, you were both seated in a both and looking through the menu. Well…she was looking through the menu, you were drawing on the paper laid on the table with crayons. “We’ll be getting fries. But do you want grilled cheese?” She asks, “Or pancakes?” 

“Pancakes.” You decided, eyes focused on your drawing. “Sure.” Regina nodded, “With chocolate chips or sprinkles?”

You gasped softly, “I want sprinkles. Please?”

“Absolutely.” She couldn’t help but allow her lips to tug into a little bit of a smile. Then, she ordered the food before joining you in the doodling. “Aw, that’s cute.” She pointed out, “The puppy has a hat.”

You chuckled over your words, “He does.” 

After a leisurely lunch, you and Regina split a hot fudge sundae before going on the road again. Unbeknownst to you, Regina rips off the part of the paper with your drawing of the puppy with a hat. She wanted to keep that. “Alright, now…let’s go have a little bit of fun.”

“Where we going?”

“We are going to a corn maze, then going home to make some s’mores.”

“Okay.” You answered, still giggly. Regina has noticed this after taking care of you for a while now, she secretly loves it. The corn maze was really just an excuse for her to keep holding onto your hand and keeping you close. Not that it was going to be scary, but…she was just truly taking advantage of your clinginess when regressed to show you some more physical affection— freely. You dozed off briefly. The weather was very nice and made it extremely easy for you to sleep. When you woke up, Regina was parking the car again. “Hi, sleepyhead. We’re here.” She lets out an exhale in amusement, “C’mon.” You followed her lead, though you’d really like to be curled up in her lap for a nap right about now, but you pushed through and focused on the activity in front of you. “Do you want something to drink?”

You nodded, mumbling in agreement while you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Regina bought an apple cider on the way to the corn maze for you both to share. You just clung onto her arm, somewhat leaning onto her while you walked. “Here.” She held the bottle for you, the straw by your lips, “Apple cider.”

You took a sip and your face scrunched up feeling the carbonation of the beverage. Regina was obviously amused and laughed, “You okay?”

Well, that woke you up.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, going in for another sip. Regina could actually get through the maze in a breeze but she took her time with it, and even took some photos of you, then some with you. “Since we’re here…and there’s a bunch of trees around, you wanna jump in some leaves?”

————

Admittedly, she never thought she’d be where she was today, especially in a role like this one, caring for you in this way. But, she loved you dearly. After some weeks, Regina had processed it all, read up more on age regression and even talked to you about it. If anyone was going to keep you safe and make you feel loved it was going to be her. Regina admires the guts it took for you to open up to her, and her heart was happy by how much you trusted her. Now that things were how they were, she wouldn’t want them any other way. You were doing so much better being able to heal and reclaim a part of your childhood that you had lost. 

“Reggie!” You gasped, tugging on her arm.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can we get that?” You pointed to one of the stalls selling a snack.

“Sure.” She said yes instantly, then got you the candy apple you asked for. You shared that with her of course, while sitting under a tree. “Look here, baby.” She taps your thigh to get your attention. You turned your head, but weren't paying much attention to her or what she was doing. She was taking photos of you, actually, But you couldn’t care less and just enjoyed the sweet treat. She laughs heartily, brushing the hair out of your face, “Is it good?”

“Mhm.” You beamed. 

“Can I have some?”

You held it out for her to take a bite out of, “Ooh, yum.”

“Thank you.” You told her, still chuckling just slightly. “I really gotta be careful with how much sugar you eat.” She jokes, “Can’t stop giggling, can you, sweetie?”

“No.” You replied, pursing your lips together. 

“You’re so cute.” She pinches your cheek, sneaking a bigger bite of the candy apple.

You noticed that though, “Aw.”

“We’re making s’mores tonight.” She reminded you, “But now I’m thinking maybe not.”

You pouted, “Okay.”

“But tomorrow…we could.” Regina continues.

She finished up the candy apple for you then the drive home began. Regina let you play with some games on her phone in the meantime while you quite literally talked her ear off. She stayed very engaged with you in the conversation though— there wasn’t a single moment of silence from the start of the drive until she returned to her place. Regina decided on that herself, but knew you’d appreciate it not having to deal with any suspicion from either of your parents. 

Before you knew it, dinner was finished and you were already getting ready for bed. No s’mores tonight, but Regina sure made up for it with the cuddles. “You sleepy yet?”

“No.” You shook your head, playing with her fingers. 

“No?” Regina gasped dramatically.

“Uh-uh.”

“Well, I’ll be right here holding you if you do fall asleep. In the meantime…did you have fun today?”

“Yup.” You let go of her hand, she rests it on your torso. 

“I’m glad you did.” She caresses your abdomen soothingly, “I had fun too.” She lays down with you upon your request. “Close your eyes, baby. Get some sleep, we have a pretty long day tomorrow.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, snuggling closer to her.

“Fine?” She repeated, you usually didn’t use this word with her when you regress. Regina smirked, “Learnt a new word?”

You simply kept quiet, face smushed against her chest while her fingers combed through your hair and scratched your scalp. “Really, though. I’m gonna need you to sleep soon.” You both had classes the next day, and she wanted you awake early enough so she was sure you were okay to go to class.

“Night night.” You murmured.

“Good night, baby.” 

“I luv you.” You mumbled. 

“I love you more.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to your head.

The day has been pretty, like a warm summer night with clear skies. Like Christmas lights twinkling all around town every winter, like colourful flowers and birds chirping in the spring…but fall, was Regina’s favourite. The warmth she feels from the colours of the leaves changing, despite the chill in the air setting in. It was her favourite because of you, the day she’s just had with you. It was picture perfect, exactly like she’d imagined. And she couldn’t wait for more of these with you. It was like she’s begun to see the world through a completely different lens and she loves it. Regina loves how she appreciates the little things, she loves how she’s been more present, she loves how she loves. You’ve changed her, and she wasn’t afraid. She was going all in with you and she couldn’t have been more sure of what she wants in her life. You.

[blackdollette]

Hii this is me from ur inbox!! Could I pleaseplease have something with Charlie with a plus size gf whose really shy and nerdy? Idk if you write things for ps readers but I'd thought I'd ask:)

i write for all body types, thank you for the request!

"never was there ever a girl so pretty." | charlie walker

diet mountain dew. - lana del rey

female!reader x charlie

word count: 450

contents: fluff

you and charlie met one day in junior year. you were the shy girl that sat at the back of the class. charlie found that you had a mysterious grace around you, and he so desperately wanted to peel back the layers of your soul.

he had invited you to cinema club one day, and you just couldn’t say no to how welcoming he was to you. you weren’t used to people just coming up and striking up conversation with you, so you just gave him a little nod and went about your day. but you were seriously considering on taking up on his offer.

so that’s how you found yourself sitting by the window, listening to charlie and robbie talking about their upcoming stab-a-thon. you didn’t like the sound of that. a lot of people being gathered up in one place to watch, so that was exactly what you told him when he asked if you were coming.

he was disappointed at your answer, especially because he looked forward to seeing you outside of school, but he wasn’t willing to give up so easily. so on that friday night, he came over to your house with CDs, snacks, and everything you could imagine for a perfect movie night. he said that he didn’t want a girl like you being all alone on a night like this, so you let him in.

and that was how this became your annual tradition. charlie would come over and the two of you would go up to your room and watch all 7 stab movies back to back. you two would be snuggled up together, struggling to stay awake in each other’s arms.

you two would sloppily make out as the movie played in the background before slowly falling asleep. at school, you couldn’t help but be kind of awkward around eachother. you’d try to sneak quick little kisses before going separate ways for class. charlie would doodle little things that reminded him of you in his notebook.

you felt like he was the only person in the whole school who loved you for who you were. he loved every single part of you. you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he knew how lucky he was being able to be your boyfriend. 

you’d reunite with him at breaks, sneaking off to be alone until classes resumed. charlie would tell you all about his day, and you would happily listen to him. that was how your dynamic with him was, and you loved it. he was your other half. he’d tell you everything. except how he’d been planning to talk to you since the first day of freshman year.

author's note: im so sorry that this took a while to come out, school hasnt even started and its already ruining my life :(( but tysm for being patient <3 last requests are coming!!

[loregoddess]

okay one of my all-time favorite fanarts for the first Octopath game were these doodles of the travelers sleeping, and it made me want to make art of the Octo2 travelers sleeping but I don't have a lot of energy for art lately so I don't think that'll happen, however I was still inspired to come up with a whole bunch of headcanons about the sleeping habits of the Octo2 travelers, sooo...I wrote them instead. Cheers. (some story spoilers)

Ochette Ochette has official art showing her sleeping, so we know she sleeps curled in a tight little ball (although she probably repositions herself in her sleep), but I also think she nests. Like, all the time. Staying at an inn? Ochette turns those blankets into a nest and curls up in them. Camping? no need for a sleeping bag (unless it's cold) she'll just tamp down some grass and make a nest. Will also nest in trees by rearranging the branches and leaves. Nests in Osvald's hair on occasion.

Also I think Ochette's a huge cuddler. She's usually cuddled with Akala or Mahina, but once she gets to know the other travelers better and figures out their personal boundaries, she'll cuddle anyone who's okay with it (probably usually Agnea and Castti. Throne wants to cuddle Ochette so badly but refuses to ask...Ochette eventually figures it out though. Osvald swears he doesn't know anything about Ochette making nests of his hair or snuggling into his coat during cold nights, but everyone knows he has the soul of a loving father. One time Ochette fell asleep leaning against Hikari and he was afraid to move at all for the rest of the night).

Follows something of a crepuscular sleeping schedule, so Ochette's most active at dawn and dusk, naps in the middle of the day, and sleeps through most of the night (although she's skilled at night hunting and can stay up most of the night if need be). Ochette can technically stay awake for a couple of days at a time if she's taking breaks and short rests, since it's useful for tracking and stalking prey over longer distances, but doesn't prefer this type of a hunt. Can also technically follow a "typical diurnal human" sleeping schedule, but Ochette thinks it's stupid. Would love siestas if they existed in Solistia.

Overall quick to fall asleep, quick to wake up. Only feels groggy if it's cold or the weather's bad, as she'd prefer to continue sleeping snuggled up in her warm nest.

Castti Castti can sleep anywhere, anytime, in any position, but mostly because she does not have any sort of healthy sleeping habits or regular sleeping schedule. Terrible, terrible habit of just staying awake to help patients and then passing out as soon as she gets a brief break in her work (her sleeping at a table in her ending card artwork attests to this). She was better about getting proper sleep when she was with Eir's Apothecaries and could share the work, and the other travelers are good at nagging her to get to sleep, but Castti doesn't really hold her own sleep health to the same standards she'll expect of her patients (she is, canonically, a bit reckless about her own health, re: Osvald telling to her to take better care of herself in that one travel banter). Snores if she's gone too long without sleeping, and won't stop until she's gotten at least two hours of sleep.

Not a really deep sleeper, but not a light sleeper either. Castti has the ability to sort of sense when someone around her needs medical help, and wakes up accordingly to help them. If no one's in trouble though she could sleep through a hailstorm on a tin roof. Because she doesn't follow any fixed sleeping schedule, her body's innate sleeping cycles are a bit wonky, but if Castti allowed herself to return to a "normal" sleeping schedule she'd be the sort of person who was up before the sun rose, and be in bed as soon as the sun set.

Throne Throne is the lightest sleeper in the group. A mouse scampering across the inn floor could wake her. Always sleeps on her side with a dagger in hand. If she's at an inn, she chooses whichever bed is against a wall or in a corner with no windows, so that nothing can sneak up behind her as she sleeps, and sleeps facing out towards the rest of the room. If she's camping then she either chooses a location where she can't easily be ambushed (under an overhanging boulder/cliff, against a large tree), or begrudgingly sleeps on her back so she can survey the area around her. Once she's more comfortable with the other travelers, she's willing to treat them as "walls" that she can safely have her back to, but overall being raised by a syndicate of assassins made her an extremely cautious sleeper.

Given the nature of her work, Throne's mostly nocturnal, opting to sleep through the day, and be awake all night long. However, some jobs required more flexibility, so Throne also learned to just sort of be up whenever she needed to be up, and sleep whenever she could. If left to her own devices though she prefers to sleep through the day. Very quick to wake up, but also doesn't have too much trouble getting to sleep either.

Osvald Before prison Osvald was probably the sort of person to stay up late into the night as he pursued his research, and sleep in late during the morning. A very deep sleeper as well, although he did acquire the parental "oh shit, my kid needs me time to be fully awake" instinct when Elena was a baby that never really went away as she got older (Castti recruited Osvald to help her nurse the others when they get sick because he started having the parental "oh shit" reaction to the other travelers as well). If he needed to be up early for some sort of scholarly conference or to teach classes or something, then Rita was the one to get him up in a timely manner (she was more of a morning person), which was good because Osvald would take 1-2 hours just to fully wake up (very serious coffee person).

Osvald's time in prison changed him however, and between the cold and needing to survey everyone and everything in the prison, he stopped sleeping through the night and would sleep in short bursts instead. Like Throne, he became a very cautious sleeper, making sure his back was to a wall while he remained hyper-vigilant of his surroundings. Whatever his sleep schedule might have been didn't matter since he had to abide by the prison's work schedules. Being passed out as he washed up on the shores of Cape Cold was the first long "sleep" Osvald had in five years.

After escaping, he's sort of in a weird in-between state where part of his mind still thinks he's in constant danger and wants to continue being stressed and vigilant, and another part that realizes he's safe now and wants to finally get some rest. As a result Osvald's sleeping habits are...haphazard during his travels. Sometimes he manages to sleep just fine, sometimes he's restless, sometimes he'll be up for two days straight claiming he can't sleep. One time Castti offered him some sleeping medicine and he slept for almost an entire day. He doesn't stop being vigilant, although he's not quite as cautious as Throne (no weapons on hand), but this mostly just results in him knowing everyone else's sleeping habits and troubles. Partway through the travels, Osvald does ease up a bit as he's able to accept he's not in constant danger, and as he comes to trust the others more he begins to relax enough to start recovering his old sleeping habits.

Eventually, he is able to recover most of his sleeping habits, staying up late researching, and sleeping in late (unfortunately Clarissa and Elena have the same sleep schedule, so if they all need to be somewhere early chances are they're going to be collectively late). Osvald never does quite shake some of the habits picked up from prison though, and doesn't sleep as deeply as he once did.

Partitio Partitio doesn't sleep in any really odd positions, although he does rotisserie chicken through the night, turning from one side to his back to his other side to his stomach and back to his side, all without really waking up. Snores like a motor if he's on his back, but if one of the other travelers kicks him or tosses something at him, he'll turn over and stop snoring (won't remember this in the morning). Sleeps extremely deeply as well, and can sleep through almost anything. Coughing wakes Partitio up immediately though, because of the time he spent nursing his father's poor health--this in turn makes him a great nurse if any of the other travelers fall sick, and Castti was pretty quick to recruit him to being her aide as well.

Growing up working in mines meant Partitio was pretty tired come night, and would just pass out. He's a natural morning person, and typically follows a very regular "wake up with the rising sun, go to sleep with the starlight" schedule. Only oversleeps if he partied too hard late into the night, or else had to stay up all night for some reason.

Agnea Tosses and turns the most through the night. Not out of discomfort, Agnea just, doesn't really stay still when she sleeps, and sleeps in the strangest positions as well when she isn't moving around. At an inn the bed's covers will be an absolute mess when she gets up, and her sleeping bag ends up cocooned around her in ways the other travelers didn't think possible. Worst bedhead as well, it takes her a good half hour to get her hair brushed out sometimes. Which is fine because it usually takes her a bit to fully wake up in the morning (although if she's excited about something, Agnea can get up and be ready to go in ten minutes flat).

Also a bit of a sleep-talker, but the sort of "nonsense" sleep talk that almost seems to make sense but doesn't. The other travelers have held entire nonsense conversations with Agnea as she sleeps. She of course, does not have any memory of these conversations when she wakes up, nor do any of her dreams match the content of the conversations recounted to her. Agnea was a bit embarrassed by this at first, until she realized the others weren't teasing her to be mean, but because her nightly chatter was truly amusing in an endearing sort of way.

Prefers to sleep late into the morning/early afternoon and stay up into the night, since it fits her schedule as a dancer better. However, Angea also has one of those internal alarm clocks, so if she needs to get up early in the morning, she just tells herself at what time to wake up and then she does. Absolute envy of Pala, who does not have an internal alarm clock. Very useful when she's travelling though, since she can make sure all the other travelers are up on time if she needs too. Also, given the size of Solistia I'm assuming there's like, major time zone differences, but I feel like Agnea would be one of those people who almost never suffers from jetlag (partly bc the means to travel across the time zones quickly enough doesn't yet exist, but also because she just has a naturally good internal sense of time and adjusts to the times the sun rises and sets pretty quickly).

Temenos Temenos looks like he sleeps peacefully. On his back, hands folded over his chest, perfectly still, no matter if he's in a bed at an inn, or a sleeping bag while camping. The truth is it takes him 1-3 hours to actually fall asleep, and he's just pretending to sleep while he tries to get thoughts about whatever case (or general stress thoughts) out of his mind. Ochette, Throne, and Osvald have figured this out, since Temenos's breathing isn't actually steady until he's fallen asleep (Ochette has good ears, Throne's used to keeping a close eye on those around here, and Osvald also got good at monitoring his cellmates and the prison guards, which carried over to his traveling companions). Once he is asleep though, Temenos sleeps fairly deeply.

He's also had these issues getting to sleep since forever. When Temenos was really young, Jorg would read him stories from the scriptures, and once Temenos learned to read he'd stay up late reading and rereading these stories in hopes that the tedious language would bore him to sleep. This is at least part of the reason why he's memorized almost all the stories in the scriptures, even if he can't remember the details exactly. Sometimes if he knows he's not going to get to sleep easily, he'll still read, although he's expanded his reading list to just about every genre, and usually always has some sort of book on hand as a result.

Because he remains in the same position all night, Temenos wakes up stiff and needs to stretch to loosen his muscles. However, when he has nightmares he tends to toss and turn a bit, and then just wakes up achy from having slept in an odd position. Night owl by nature, feels most awake in the evening and early night, and would sleep half the day except his duties as inquisitor and cleric require Temenos to get up early (which he uses an alarm clock for, maybe? I mean, mechanical clocks do exist in Solistia, so...). Wakes up fairly quickly, but is always a little tired throughout the day.

Hikari Hikari tends to sleep mostly on his side, and also keeps a weapon nearby (he did grow up participating in a concerning number of wars and battles). He prefers to get up early and go to bed early, but given the need for flexibility on a battlefield, can and has stayed up through the night and slept part of the day with little consequence. Hikari's also an incredibly quiet and still sleeper, rarely repositioning except to sometimes roll onto his back.

He is also a deceptively peaceful-looking sleeper. Hikari's issue is less that he can't get to sleep easily, and more that he's afraid of the Shadow overtaking him somehow while he sleeps, a fear that was especially prevalent when he was in active warzones. Without anyone he could really discuss this with, Hikari had to figure out how to get to sleep on his own, and eventually settled for meditating before he planned to sleep. During his meditation he focuses on suppressing the Shadow the same way he's able to suppress it when he's awake, and specifically visualizes locking the Shadow away for the duration of his sleep. This meditation tactic, once Hikari refined it, did help him sleep with lessened fear of the Shadow overtaking him. It didn't stop him from occasionally having nightmares about the Shadow though, which eventually led to Hikari figuring out how to lucid dream so he could get the Shadow out of his dreams as well.

All this means that, so long as Hikari has adequate time to set up, he's able to meditate and then simply lay down and go to sleep. Unfortunately, it also means that he will refuse to sleep if he does not have adequate time to properly mediate, and has on occasion just...stayed awake for a concerning amount of time. Hikari's so earnest and polite about insisting he simply can't sleep though that the other travelers have a hard time arguing with him in these rare instances where he refuses to sleep. When, on occasion, he ends up knocked out from a battle (or getting zapped off a bridge), and doesn't have control over passing out, Hikari actually does fine, since his subconscious kicks in to keep him safe from the Shadow, but this doesn't stop him from practicing his disciplined sleep ritual.

Hikari doesn't ever truly stop his meditation before sleeping after the events of his story, but he stops forcing himself to stay awake out of fear if he can't meditate, much to the relief of his friends and retainers. It's less that Hikari no longer fears the Shadow, and more that he believes in his own strength to keep it out of his mind entirely. At that point, Hikari actually sleeps just as peacefully as he looks while sleeping.