#throwing holy water @ .. that's how it works right

[stadam]

all the demons liking the shipping post....

panicked angel noises, ❝ begone, fiends! ❞

[gibbearish]

btw similar to the whole "if you try adderall at a party and it calms you down, get an adhd test" thing, if at some point in your life you try microdosing shrooms with a friend and end up feeling like a functional person for the first time in your life, get tested for depression. like yeah hallucinogens come with elation so youre probably gonna have some "this is the best ive ever felt in my life" vibes regardless, but like. if that in and of itself feels like finally breathing in for the first time in years, thats for sure a sign that something is up with your ability to process serotonin most of the time. feeling better than ever before should be a nice bonus, not a crushing weight off your chest

[mrsbarnesblog]

the broken sink

summary: you walk in on your boyfriend fixing the sink and looking absolutely delicious, so you cannot resist him

word count: 1.2k

warnings: porn without plot, unprotected p in v, cowgirl position, tits sucking

a/n: inspired by the tiktok i saw not so long ago😋

When you walked into your kitchen after going out for some groceries, the last thing you expected to see was Rafe lying on his back halfway under the sink. Without a damn shirt on. 

His grey sweatpants were low on his hips, showing a glimpse of his underwear, abs on full display for you, with a thin layer of sweat glistening under the sunlight from the window nearby. 

You swallowed harshly as you put the bag on the counter and looked back at your boyfriend, who was still unaware of your presence. The way Rafe’s muscles were flexing with every move under the sink and the way his toned and big arms moved back and forth with a wrench in them made your mouth water and left your head completely empty. 

“What are you doing in there?” You finally asked. 

His head peeked from under the counter, your favorite sheepish grin stretched across his face at your voice. “Hey, baby. Just though— you son of a bitch.” He cursed, and you heard a crunching noise of metal. “Just thought I would fix this thing you’ve been telling me about. I’m almost done.” 

Rafe sent you another smirk, and you were done for. You didn’t even think, your mind being completely blank, as you went closer and dropped to your knees near him. You swung your leg over, straddling his hips, hands flat on the lower part of his stomach, thumbs trailing the line just under the band of his boxers.

“What the—“ His deep voice was followed by a loud thud of his head against the sink as he moved, surprised by your actions. “Ah, shit… Babe, the hell are you doing? Like right now?” With one hand still holding a wrench and the other one instinctively gripping your thigh, Rafe’s eyes roamed over you with amusement and curiosity. 

You bit your lip, not even paying attention to his words, instead slightly lifting yourself and tugging at his sweatpants and boxers. The need and desire in you was excruciating, and you doubted that you ever experienced it in that way, but seeing Rafe like that—spread out on the floor, sweaty, half naked, looking like a fucking glazed donut—made you go feral. 

“I’m so wet, Ray.” You mumbled, barely able to think straight. 

“You’re wet because…?” He grinned, throwing a wrench near his head, and paying his full attention to you. He was slightly shocked, yes, but this is Rafe, and no matter what, he will never miss an opportunity to do something dirty and inappropriate with you. This man was obsessed, and when you showed initiative, he could get turned on in a second. 

Your hands finally managed to pull the pants down, just enough for you to pull out his quickly hardening cock. Instantly wrapping your hand around the base, you spit on the tip, working your hand up and down his length to make it nice and ready. Rafe’s hips buckled, a hiss leaving his lips at the skilled movements of your hand. “Holy fucking shit.”

“I’m wet because you look so fucking hot like that.” You moaned, your free hand desperately tugging at your dress, trying to pull it up. A frustrated huff left your lips when it kept falling down, preventing you from reaching your underwear and finally releasing the ache between your legs. 

Rafe’s head lifted off the floor, pupils blown wide at the sight of you on top of him, desperate as never before, angry at not being able to have him the way you wanted to. Your hand kept working with his cock, as he was already painfully hard. An amused laugh left his lips when your brows furrowed, a pout evident on your lips. “Lemme help you, baby.” 

He pulled the dress up, fisting the thin material in his hand, while you finally pushed your underwear aside. There was no teasing, no preparing yourself for his cock, or even giving him a chance to realize what you were doing with how fast you moved. You just sank on him in one smooth motion, throwing your head back and moaning at the stretch. 

Rafe’s fingers dug into your thighs, his mouth hanging open with surprise and pleasure, looking up at you with lust and need. “Fuck, baby.” He breathed, his voice rough and raspy. “You didn’t even give me a damn second to— shit!”

You shut him up mid-sentence, dragging yourself up and down his rock-hard cock, making his hand fall back on the floor with a thud. 

“Couldn’t wait.” You whispered, planting your hands on his firm chest, feeling every muscle shifting under your palms. “I’ve been thinking about you since morning, and then— then you were here looking so sexy…” You trailed off, eyes rolling back with a high moan slipping past your lips. 

“You’re crazy, baby, fucking crazy.” 

You leaned down, palms flat on his chest, lips barely ghosting his jawline as you dragged your hips slowly in circles. “You’re making me crazy.” You whispered, grinding down harder, pulling a ragged moan from deep in his chest.

Rafe’s hands trailed up your thighs, gripping your ass harder, pushing you down on him. You lifted yourself almost completely, then dropped back harder. Your pace quickened when you sat straight again, moving even though your legs started to feel tingly. 

Rafe couldn’t wait any longer. His fingers dug harder into your hips, bruising, as he started pushing up into you, making the filthiest and wettest noises fill the small and cozy kitchen. Your eyes rolled back, while his zeroed in on your nipples, picking through the thin fabric of your dress. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so hot right now.” He grumbled, propping himself on one elbow, his face now closer to your breasts, and catching the swell on your tit with his mouth. Rafe’s moan mixed with your gasp when he sucked on you through the fabric, dragging his teeth around the bud hard enough to make you cry. Your fingers threaded into his sweaty hair, tugging just a little, and Rafe growled low in his throat. 

You felt the heat in you building faster. The way Rafe filled you so perfectly, his cock kissing your cervix with every hard thrust, the way his hands and mouth were so desperate for you—it all made you spiral. “Need you to come, Ray…” He cupped the back of your neck, stopping his assault on your tits, bringing your mouth to his, and then falling back on the floor with you lying on his chest. 

“Fucking will, baby. You’re gonna cum on my cock too, hm?” Rafe asked, barely even stopping the kiss, before pushing his tongue back in your mouth—sloppy and borderline nasty. He started fucking into you again, feeling the way your pussy barely was letting him go. His cock throbbed inside, and with a few more thrusts, just when you couldn't hold back your orgasm anymore, you felt ropes after ropes of hot liquid painting your insides. 

You collapsed against him, both of you slick with sweat and panting, the only sounds in the kitchen your breathing and the distant hum of the fridge.

"Next time," he said, voice rough against your ear, "I'm not fixin' shit unless you're supervising like this."

You laughed, still too blissed out to even lift your head. "Deal."

He grinned, his hand smoothing up and down your back, lazy and possessive. 

The sink was still broken, tools were lying all around you, and your grocery bags were completely forgotten on the counter, but in that moment neither of you cared. 

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

HOLY SHOWER

Summary: After an exhausting day, you finally wanted to take a shower, but the water stopped running in your apartment, so you decided to go to your neighbor for help. But you got more than help.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, overstimulation, unprotected sex (piv), shower sex, more rounds

Masterlist

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You came home from work, exhausted and tired. Today was probably the worst day at work, the boss yelled at you, you almost got fired and you destroyed your clothes by spilling your coffee all over it, great. The only thing you wanted right now was a warm shower that would help you release all this negative chakras and relax.

On the way to the shower, you were already planning in your head how you're going to spend the rest of the evening, making popcorn and watching your favorite series while the vanilla-flavored candles were lit around. You'll only be wearing an oversized t-shirt and rabbit slippers that your moronic neighbor Wade Wilson bought you, after he almost set your flat on fire as part of his fight with some villian.

Wade is not a normal neighbor who occasionally throws parties and fucks with whores. He does this too, but he's really special. If you had to describe him in three words it would be a jerk, a narcissist and a wretch, but sometimes he's also nice, you have to admit that.

After you finally get out of your coffee-stained clothes, you threw them in the washing machine and went directly to the bathroom, naked. Opening the shower door, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Now, only well-being and relaxation begin, you may even practice yoga and meditate if you'll be sufficiently relaxed and full of energy. Just the thought encouraged you further and when you closed the shower door behind you, nothing and no one could stop you.

You turned on the hot water switch and took the citrus scented shower gel in your hand, you were about to squirt some on your palm when you realized the water didn't start running.

,,That's…weird” you said to yourself and reached for the cold water switch. Nothing. Not a drop came out and you were slowly starting to get furious inside. You reached for both switches at once and turned them to full power, but still nothing. You really held on, every nerve in your body was ticking not to explode but it happened anyway.

"Fuck!" you scream across the whole apartment and drop your head in your hands. This was something you had been looking forward to all day, you dreamed about it at work and the idea of ​​warm water running down your naked body was discouraging you from having a mental breakdown in the bathroom. The shower was your reason to get through the day and they're going to take it away from you like that? Fuck no.

You weren't going to just give up, the feeling of lukewarm water cleansing your body and your darkest thoughts, right now you need it more than anything in the world.

A light bulb went on in your head and you were out of the bathroom in no time. You quickly threw on an oversized white shirt, didn't even care that you’re not wearing anything under it, and went forward. Your face was focused on only one goal, Wade.

He's a devious bastard who's tried it on you countless times, but right now you're at the stage where you're even able to sleep with him just so you can indulge in that holy shower.

You knocked on the door right next to your apartment and waited for an answer. You started to be a little suspicious, because the apartment was truly gravely silent, but the creaking of the door interrupted your assumptions about what it might be. You took a deep breath and were ready to blurt out everything that had happened and convince Wade to let you take a shower at his place, but your words got stuck in your throat when Wade wasn't standing in the doorway.

Instead, there was standing a tall, old muscular man with a brown beard and sideburns, his hair was in the shape of beast ears and he had a stern expression on his face that immediately caught your attention. Wearing a white tank top that beautifully highlighted his body underneath and most importantly, showed off his shoulders which were way more massive than your thighs. You swallowed loudly in fear and blinked a few times to bring yourself back.

"Um hi! Is Wade here?"you asked and no matter how hard you tried, your voice was quiet and shaky, the guy definitely had to sense that you were so fucking nervous.

"Who's asking?" a deep grainy voice answered you with a question and leaned against the doorframe, as he crossed his hands on his chest, making his biceps pop out. He was really manipulating you with them, you had an incredible urge to stare at them and your brain was already automatically creating a million scenarios of what you wanted him to do to you with those hands. Luckily you were still somewhat conscious and didn't let your dirty toughts take over you.

"I am his neighbor...right next door" you pointed your head to your apartment, trying to keep your smile on your face. That man slowly looks at the direction you pointed, then looked back at you. "Wade's not home right now” his stern voice made you flinch every time you heard it, because it sounded like you just killed his parents and now you're going to pay hell for it.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded a few times. "Oh...okay well, when he comes back tell him I was there" you smiled again, hoping your smile would soften him up a bit, but you're too naive for even thinking this would work.

He was just looking at you, no response, not even a tiny movement of his face, nothing. You probably understood that you should finally get the fuck out of his face, and that was what you had planned. You turned on your tiptoes and walked back to your apartment, but he stopped you in your way there.

"Hey!" You immediately turned to face him.

"What do you want from him?" his biceps still hypnotizing you.

"My water stopped flowing and I really really need to take a shower" you put on a cute-innocent expression and your tone sounded so convincing that even a kidnapper, who was going to cut your throat, would let you take a shower.

He looked like he thought whether or not to let you in, even though he already knew his verdict long ago. "Come in" he nodded and disappeared in the apartment, thinking you were following him and you really did.

You were so grateful and happy that you would blow this man right here right now, not just because he was ridiculously handsome, but also as a thank you gift.

You closed the door behind you and the man made himself comfortable on the couch, a loud groan came out of him as he dropped himself there, making you feel that weird burning feeling in your lower stomach.

Although you knew Wade’s apartment layout even with your eyes closed, you still found it a bit inhospitable that man didn't even tell you where the bathroom is, but you didn't worry about it for too long. After all, you're not here to teach that grandpa good manners, you're only here for the shower.

You were almost headed to the bathroom, but something stopped you in your tracks. Thirst. Your apartment has no water and god knows how long it won't work and since it's quite late at night, all the shops here will be probably already closed.

You had to take your chance, that's why you backed into the kitchen and looked at him subtly. "Um, could I have a glass of water?" you asked politely. You only got an annoyed look and a stiff nod as response. You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen.

You swallowed the water as if you had just been in the desert for few days, even that bastard noticed it too, but he didn't say anything.

"And um...you're Wade's partner?" "Fuck no" you wanted to start a conversation, get to know the stranger a bit, but this was probably not a good start. He looked disgusted, just thinking about it. "I'm his roomate, Logan" you finally got to know something about him and it wasn't just one thing, but even two. Wow, you're moving somewhere.

"Ah, nice to meet you" you said with a smile and poured yourself another glass of water which you drink like an animal. Logan just stared at you, scanning you and sensing that you were only wearing a light white fabric and literally nothing underneath it. Quite risky, he thought.

"And you're name?" he finally continued the conversation and you couldn't help but smile even more. Maybe you softened the grump a bit after all.

,,Y/N...” you fizz looking at Logan who just nodded and looked away. You felt it was time to finally indulge in what you were here for. Without another word you therefore went to bathroom, ripped off your shirt in one graceful motion and stomped into the shower, but you couldn't ignore the smell that clearly screamed Wade was touching himself here. Whatever.

Trying to ignore the smell, you reached for the hot water switch. The water finally touched your naked skin and you threw your head back, nearly blinding yourself with the hot water. After a while it started burning, so you reached for the cold switch, but it got stuck.

You tried to turn it with all your strenght, but nothing. So you quickly turned off the hot water and decided to ask Logan for help. After all, he has much bigger muscles than you, he will definitely be able to turn it on.

You didn't even bother drying off, you just threw your white shirt back on and went straight to Logan. When you stood next to the couch and waited for him to look at you, he wasn't just looking at you, he was admiring you.

You didn't realize that you were all wet and the white shirt was wet too, stuck to your body and practically transparent, revealing everything. Logan surprisingly cleared his throat and stopped breathing for a moment but still with the stern expression.

"Would you please help me with the shower? The switch is stuck and I can't turn it on" you beg, having no idea that your shirt is pointless to even wear at this moment.

Logan didn't take in a word you just said, he looked away from your body to your face and just stared. So you repeated your request to him and he instantly nodded in agreement. You were a little surprised that he was suddenly so active, but you didn't complain.

Logan quickly got up and went to the bathroom without giving any sign of being annoyed by your request. You walked right behind him, his whiskey scent tickled your olfactory cells.

When you entered the bathroom, you ran ahead of Logan to show him exactly where the problem was. "Here...s-see?" you struggle as you tried to turn on the cold water, but again, no avail. Logan just quietly took over the switch and effortlessly turned on the cold water, like it was nothing.

You laugh from the excitement of finally being able to enjoy a shower. But the thing was that the cold water was not only flowing on you, but also on Logan. His previously dry white tank top that covered his divine body was no longer dry and is definitely no longer covering anything. You looked at each other, your smile fade away in a second.

Your gaze locked on his body. His hairy body, developed and veined, his abs looked so eatable, so does his arms and boobs. His hair was damp, he looked irresistible and you fought your demons not to jump on him like an animal.

You, on the other hand, were practically naked in front of Logan and he hadn't seen such a beautiful woman with a beautiful body in a long time. The way the water drops ran down your neck, under your wet t-shirt, around your chest to your stomach, this was the end for Logan.

Without any warning, he pounced on you like a beast, cupping your cheeks with his big hands, almost surrounding your entire face. You automatically joined in and cooperated, wrapping your arms around his veiny neck and just gently digging into him with your fingernails.

Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues fight with each other for dominance, sure thing that Logan won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what it can do to you.

Logan couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your shirt and took it off pretty briskly, even though it was practically useless. But he didn't leave you alone and took off his tank top too. You broke the kiss just to see the treasure he offers. Naturally, you reached for him and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught your breath.

,,You like it?” he asked hurriedly and smiled as he saw your shocked face. For someone who is really truly old, he's not bad at all. You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination makes a total waterfall between your legs.

He was holding you by your weist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. That itself make his erection begging to finally free him from those thigh boxers, what really keeps him trapped.

He didn't wait for another sound of yours and quickly started unbuckling his pants, his clumsy hands tried to take them off as quickly as possible and you tried to help him. Your hands touched, but there was no time for romance, his growls and your sighs said it all.

When you finally managed to unzip Logan's pants as part of your cooperation, they were on the floor next to the shower in no time, along with his black boxers. His dick sprang free, making a slappy sound as it hits his belly. You needed a moment to adore his little friend, and your eyes widened from his length. How can he even walk around with this thing?

He chuckled as he watched your surprised face once more, and got your attention by grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. "My face's right here, sweatheart" you melt at his words, his tone not as stern as it used to be just moments ago and his eyes...fuck his eyes were full of lust and desire just for you.

The rules have changed a bit, the shower is no longer what you longed for and can't live for, now it's Logan. You need him badly, like breathing or eating, you need him so badly that your knees almost start to buckle in desperation and Logan knew it and sensed it.

After all, he needed you just as much as you needed him. So he decided not to delay any longer and pinned you to the wall, the shower still continued with a flow of cold water that smoothed you at least a little, but still, you were burning with arousal and passion.

He glued his lips to yours again, his body was just as glued and his cock was poking you in your inner tight, unintentionally provoked your wet folds by moving his hips to feel at least a little friction. Of course, this movement made your neck make noises you didn't even know existed.

"I won't last long with you bub" Logan mumbled between kisses but he continued with both his movements and his uncontrollable kissing and biting of your numb lips. His wolfish voice excited you whenever you heard it and your legs were already shaking with anticipation.

Logan's tip started leaking with precum and this was a clear sign for him that he should finally fuck you like you deserved.

Before you could blink, he grabbed you by the neck, but not too hard to hurt you, but not too loose to not have control over you. He found the perfect center that suited both you and him and at that moment, he began to slide it into you.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes shut tightly as you felt his tip stretching your throbbing core. Logan growled, his face pinched but his eyes open to see your pleasing face. Oh he will remember this face for the rest of his life.

He was already fully in, fitting in perfectly as if you two were just meant for each other. Logan waited a while for you to get used to him and you had the opportunity to open your eyes for a moment and admire his wet head. How the drops slowly ran down his face, down his whole body, it was so fucking hot.

After a while, when you started getting impatient and get used to his length, you started moving your hips, just a tiny moves, but Logan knew damn well you were ready for more. That's why he helped you a little by pulling out and pushing back his member into you, making you whine his name out loud.

It was peaceful steady movements, he played with you like a toy and you marveled at it. Your eyes were opened and you were holding eye contact with Logan the whole time. Every time he pushes into you, he squishes his nose and hisses and he does that again anytime he pulls out of you.

It was pain but also a thrill for him going so incredibly slow, but both of you enjoyed it like nothing else. The thing was that you were insatiable barbarians who kept wanting more and more. Logan decided to indulge both of you.

He let go of your neck, leaving big red marks and fingerprints there and moved his strong hands to your hips. He needed to keep you in a place, because what was going to happen wasn't for some weaklings.

You looked at him with hope and curiosity of what was going to happen, and you found out really soon. Without any warning or hesitation, Logan started thrusting into you with no mercy. Now this was exactly what you needed.

His animal awoke in him, his teeth clenched as his balls was slapping against your ass. It all makes easier the running water, which served as a natural lubricant, keeping you both still wet, even though you didn't really need it.

He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it. Your hands were tightly glued to his back, your nails digging deep into his flesh but it was just a tiny, hardly felt pinch for him.

Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.

Logan was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. The moment you knew you loose it completely, was when he grabbed you by your ass and lifted you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist and you weren't touching the ground. In this position, he easily found your g-spot and he was hitting it with rage and passion, sending you straight to your orgasm.

But Logan wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.

He snarled like a beast, watching the part where your bodies connected, being so desperate to cum inside you, filling you up so that his sperm would drop out of you. You were already losing your senses, your eyes rolled back and you make a really long and deep bloody lines on Logan's back by your sharp nails, as you were really close.

,,Logan I-" you wanted to warn him, to inform him but it was useless, because before you could finish your sentence, you clench tightly around his member, your lower body started vibrating and the pleasant feeling of relief finally flooded you all over.

Your juice started dropping on the floor and you tried to catch your breath and gain your senses back, but Logan was still going in his full speed and strength. He was really frantic trying to catch up his orgasm, which he succeeded in after a few strong and wild thrusts.

The last one was the strongest and loudest one, he screamed really loudly, not caring if Wade was already home or not, the most juiciest and the most deepest.

The only sounds in the bathroom now were your heavy breathing and the steady flow of water that didn't stop. You felt dizzy, overstimulated, but the feeling of pleasure and relief was irreplaceable. Logan felt the same as you, although he didn't see twice unlike you, but this was an unforgettable experience for him. But he didn't want to stop yet.

"You ready for round two?" he asked, keep trying to catch his breath. This question woke you up like a slap in the morning and you looked at him with wide eyes. He was serious, he meant it and you were speechless. Although you were tired, you knew that the moment Logan will let you on your feet you wouldn't keep your balance, but of course you wanted a second round.

Logan waited impatiently for your answer and when you nodded your head, it warmed your heart to see a sparkle in his eyes. Immediately, his lips were on yours again, his dick that never leave your insideness started moving again, heating you up and creating another arousal.

The overstimulation was insane, you knew you would cum soon again and it made you feel a little embarassing, but Logan was on the same boat as you. His balls were so full that he could explode at any time, he needed to empty himself inside you.

He was starting to pick up his pace and speed again and before long you were in the same situation as few minutes ago, his hips thrusting into you with no limit, you mercilessly destroying Logan's back and praying your pelvis won't crack.

If he could, he would have turned you around and fucked you from behind like a brute, but he could feel your legs being weak and practically non-functional, so he held you tightly around his waist and continued in a position that soon brought you both to your second orgasm.

You both whimpered and wailed as you struggled to fill your lungs with oxygen. Logan was still full of energy but you're only human and when a beast like Wolverine jumps at you, there's no way you'll end up in better condition than him.

After you finally breathe normally and calmly, Logan started laughing out the two powerful orgasms and dropped his forehead to yours. You joined him and you both laughed like idiots while you were still inside each other and the freezing water was pouring over you.

Wade is going to be really surprised when his water bill comes.

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[itneverendshere]

drunk words sober thoughts - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

Here you were, in the middle of Figure Eight at four in the goddamn morning, dragging your six-foot-something, entirely-too-drunk boyfriend away from a kook party you didn’t even want to go to in the first place.

He was stupidly wasted, stumbling along like his legs had forgotten how to work, slurring every other word like his tongue was three sizes too big.

“Baaaaaby,” Rafe sloppily enunciated, breath against your neck as he practically draped himself over you, "You’re so fuckin’—shit—so fuckin’ hot, like—like the hottest thing I ever seen in my life—swear t’god, baby,—holy shit—” His hands groped at your waist, sliding down to your ass as he tried to pull you closer, touching you like it was his god-given right—which in his mind, it probably was.

You smacked his hand away, though you couldn't help but feel a little fond—just a little.  "Touch my ass one more time before we get home and I’m gonna leave you in a ditch."

He gasped, as if you just threatened to burn his whole family fortune to the ground. "You wouldn’t."

You shoved him off with an annoyed huff. “I would.”

“But—”

“Shush.”

He let out a dramatic groan but complied, mostly because he was too drunk to fight back. You had managed to yank him out of the house, away from all the Kooks he swore he didn’t fuck with anymore, away from the shots he was knocking back like water, and out onto the empty street.

Kelce was still inside, which meant you had no ride home, and the only other person who offered—a random-ass Kook girl—had given you a look you did not appreciate. You’d rather drag Rafe’s dumb ass across the island than owe one of those trust-fund bitches a favor.

Rafe pouted like a damn child but, miraculously, mostly kept his hands to himself as you dragged him down the street. The man was dead weight who kept leaning into you, his heavy, muscled body pressing into your side.

"Can you walk?" You huffed, struggling under his weight.

"M’walking," he spluttered, sounding genuinely offended.

"You're stumbling like a newborn giraffe.”

Rafe chuckled, rubbing his face against your shoulder. "Love when you’re mean t’me”

You rolled your eyes. "Of course you do, you freak."

The party had been fun—for exactly twenty minutes. Then Rafe, despite all his I swear, baby, I’ll behave promises, had proceeded to down shots like he was getting paid for it. 

He had stuck to your side, arm around you, lips constantly pressing against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. See, baby? he’d murmured against your skin. M’not even that drunk. 

Clingy drunk didn’t even begin to describe him.

Rafe had spent the next two hours attached to you, breath alcohol-laced against your ear as he whispered absolute nonsense. He was insatiable—every time you turned around, he was either kissing you, grinding against you, or telling everyone who would listen that you were his girl, the best girl, the only girl that mattered.

His hands had wandered, spanking your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your dress like he had no concept of public decency.

He was still stupidly wasted.

Rafe stumbled, nearly taking you down with him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I feel—”

You turned your head just in time to see his face twist in discomfort, his body swaying, our stomach dropped. "No, you do not—Rafe Cameron, don’t you dare,” you snapped, gripping his shirt to keep him upright.

He groaned, clutching his stomach. “Think—think 'm gonna be sick...”

“The fuck you are,” you shot back, already tugging him down the road. “You are not throwing up out here. I am not letting you pass out on the goddamn street, and I definitely can’t carry your heavy ass, so get it together.”

He whined, actually fucking whined, like a kid being denied candy at the store. “But I feel—”

“Walk.”

Rafe grumbled something but miraculously kept moving, though he nearly toppled both of you when he tried to nuzzle into your neck again. “Mmm. Love you,” he murmured, pressing wet, sloppy kisses to your jaw, your ear, any part of you he could reach. “Love ya s’much.”

You cracked—just a little—because, drunk or not, Rafe was always a touchy, clingy mess when it came to you. You sighed, as you led him down the dark road, trying to act annoyed but feeling that mushy tug in your chest “I know.”

"S—saaay it back.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll say it when you’re not about to puke on my shoes.”

A dramatic gasp. “"You—you don’t love me?"

“Dude.”

"Say it baaaack."

"Rafe."

He pouted, leaning his full weight into you again, and you swore you were about to just let his ass collapse on the pavement.

"You’re sooo pretty," he mumbled, voice all dreamy. "So fuckin’ pretty. Prettiest—prettiest girl I ever seen... swear t’god, baby... like an angel or some shit...”

You sighed, readjusting your grip on his waist. "You’re so fucking annoying."

Rafe slurred some more against your neck, his hot breath making you physically recoil. He whuffed, tilting his head dramatically. "Jus' wanna kiss’ya,”

"You’re disgusting."

"’M sexy."

"You reek of tequila."

"B-but— I love you,” he insisted, voice all dramatic, he had just made some groundbreaking realization. His arm tightened around your shoulders, nearly choking you as he clung to you like a goddamn koala. “Tink I might die if you ever leave me.”

 “If you don’t move your ass, I’m gonna leave you—right here.”

You somehow made it another few blocks before he stopped dead in his tracks, groaning as he bent over. Your stomach twisted in anticipation, but before you could yell at him, he straightened back up, blinking at you. “Shit.”

You stared at him, waiting. “What.”

“M’m kinda fucked up.”

“No shit, dumbass.”

He blinked again, then broke into a lazy, drunken grin.

You shook your head, suppressing a smile. “I’m dragging your stupid ass home.” He hummed, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You sighed, finally resigning yourself to the fact that you’d be stuck dealing with his drunk ass all night. “Love you too. Now move.”

He groaned again, slumping further into you. "Wanna hold you." His lips brushed your jaw, his kisses hot, sloppy, desperate. "Baby, just lemme—"

You shoved his face away, trying not to laugh at how absolutely ridiculous he was. "Not while you're about to vomit on me, you fucking menace."

He pouted, eyes all big and glassy like some lovesick golden retriever. "Prettiest girl in the world."

You sighed, trying to resist the affection. "I know."

"S-say it backkk. Tell me ’m your prettiest boy."

You snorted, knowing you were gonna use this shit against him in the morning, “Get off of me, you giant fucking toddler.”

"Never."

Before you could shove him away again, Rafe’s turned into the hulk—pressing your back was against the nearest car.

“What the fuck—"

"Hi," he blinked down at you while his hands splayed against the cool metal behind you, trapping you between the car and him.

You squirmed, trying to duck under his arms, but Rafe just grinned, leaning in until his lips were brushing your ear. "Where d’ya think you’re goin’?"

"Home," you huffed, shoving at his chest. "Without getting humped to death by my drunk boyfriend."

"But I need youuuu," he groaned, voice all wrecked. "Fuck, baby, you don’t get it. I’ve been thinkin’ bout you all fucking night, and you—" he pressed his hips against yours, making you gasp—"you feel me?"

You did, hating how fast heat crawled up your spine, how your body responded to him instantly despite how fucking annoying he was being.

"Rafe," you warned.

"Baby," he mocked, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your throat. “Lemme have this,” His voice was thick, his hands skimming to your waist, gripping your hips, tugging you closer despite how little space was between you already.

“You’re not fucking me here.”

Rafe just grinned. "No?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw.  His lips trailed lower, sucking at your pulse, making you shiver.  “Can't even fuckin’ think s-straight."

“You can’t think straight because you’re hammered."

"Nah," he murmured, "M’ drunk on you."

You groaned. "You're so fucking corny, I swear to—"

Rafe cut you off with a kiss.

Sloppy, deep, needy.

His hands were groping your cheeks so tight you knew you’d feel it in the morning. His tongue licked into your mouth as he shamelessly moaned against your lips, grinding into you like a bitch in heat.

"You taste so fucking good," he moved  to your neck again, sucking at the skin, "Gonna wake up tastin' you, fuck—"

"Rafe—"

"Bet you’re soaked for me right now," he groaned, hand gripping your jaw, tilting your head back so he could kiss down your throat.

Your entire body burned. "Oh my fucking god, Rafe—"

"I love you," he muttered into your skin. "Love this fucking body. Love the way you feel, the way you—"

And then, his whole body tensed.

"Baby—" his face twisted in discomfort. "Oh fuck."

Your stomach dropped. "No. No, no, no. Do not—"

“Think 'm gonna be sick,” he swayed on his feet.

You grabbed his shirt with both hands, yanking him upright with all your strength. "You are not about to throw up after whispering the nastiest shit into my neck like five seconds ago—"

He gripped your arms, blinking at you all slow and dazed. "’M serious, babe, shit’s—not good—"

"So help me god."

Rafe took a few stumbly steps away from you, suddenly lurching forward with a groan. His body bent before you could grab him again, he was kneeling on the ground, his hands clutching his stomach as he made a noise that made you wince.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” you muttered, running a hand over your face in exasperation. This was not how you planned to spend the rest of your night. 

Rafe's voice was hoarse as he sat back on his heels, eyes red-rimmed. “I didn’t mean—didn’t mean to—"

“I know. You’re just—" You paused, looking down at him, the man who couldn’t even sit up straight. “You’re an idiot.”

He grinned, his eyes hazy, clearly missing the sarcasm. “But I’m your idiot,” he slurred, and it was hard not to feel the affection despite how much of a pain in the ass he was being.

"Yeah, you are," you said, finally kneeling down beside him.

Rafe let out a half-giggled, half-groan sound, leaning into you as he tried to catch his breath. "Can we jus’ go h-home? Swear, never drinkin’ again. M’ sorry…”

You knew that was a lie, but you also knew he was genuinely miserable right now.

You sighed, wiping a hand down your face as you helped Rafe to his feet. He wobbled, gripping your shoulders. His face buried in the crook of your neck. “Y’so good t’me,” he mumbled, his breath hot and sticky against your skin.

“You say that now,” you muttered, adjusting your grip on his waist as you continued dragging him down the empty street. “Wait till you wake up tomorrow and realize I recorded half the shit you said tonight.”

Rafe made an exaggerated whimpering noise. “Baby, nooo.”

You snorted. “Baby, yes.”

Every other step, he either tripped over his own feet or stopped dead in his tracks to dramatically profess his love for you. By the time you finally made it to his driveway, your arms ached from holding him up,.

You shoved the front door open and all but dragged Rafe inside. The house was dark and quiet, Ward was out of town, and Rose was probably dead asleep, thank god. The last thing you needed was a lecture from her about how “boys will be boys” while Rafe was in the middle of trying to hump your leg like a golden retriever.

You maneuvered him toward the stairs, dreading the climb. “Up we go.”

Rafe blinked at you like you just asked him to solve a math equation. “That’s—” he tilted his head, “—so many stairs.”

You exhaled sharply. “You are a six-foot-something, gym-rat motherfucker. Get your ass up the stairs before I leave you here.”

He pouted but complied, albeit slowly. You stayed behind him, hands on his back to make sure he didn’t topple over and eat shit halfway up. He wobbled a few times, but eventually, you managed to get him into his bedroom and onto the bed with an unceremonious plop.

Rafe rolled onto his stomach, face buried in the pillow. “Dying.”

“You’re not dying,” you said flatly, grabbing a water bottle from his nightstand and uncapping it. “Drink.”

He peeked up at you with bleary eyes. “Don’ wanna.”

You sighed. “Rafe.”

“Baaaaby.”

“Drink the water.”

Rafe grumbled but obediently took a sip, grimacing like it physically pained him. You shook your head, amused despite yourself. You kicked off your shoes and climbed onto the bed beside him, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

“Feel like shit,” he muttered, pressing his face into your palm.

“That’s what happens when you drink your weight in tequila.”

 “’M never drinkin’ again.”

 “Sure.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, grabbing your hand and pressing a sloppy kiss to your wrist. “Jus’ gonna stay home with you forever. Never leavin’ this bed.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah.”

Rafe hummed, eyes slipping shut. His breathing slowed, his grip on your hand loosening as exhaustion finally overtook him.

You sighed, settling in beside him, your fingers still tangled with his. 

You found yourself staring at him as he slept—mouth slightly open, hair a mess, snoring just a little. 

A year, a whole damn year of this. Of dealing with his bullshit, his temper tantrums, his insufferable ego—but also his stupid soft side, the way he always pulled you in closer, how needed to be near you like you were oxygen or some shit.

Never in a million years did you think you’d be this girl, the one who loved Rafe Cameron. Yet, here you were—pathetically, hopelessly, disgustingly in love with him.

With a quiet sigh, you brushed a strand of hair off his forehead and pressed the lightest of kisses there. “Idiot.”

The next morning, Rafe woke up with a dramatic wail, immediately burying his face in the pillow. His entire body hurt like a bitch, his mouth was dry as a fucking desert, and his head was pounding, going off inside his skull.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice rough with sleep. His stomach twisted in protest, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the nausea.

You, on the other hand, were already sitting up beside him, scrolling through your phone like you hadn’t spent half the night wrestling his drunk ass into bed.

“You look like shit,” you said casually, not even bothering to glance at him.

Rafe groaned, dragging the pillow over his face. “Feel like shit.”

“That’s what happens when you go full frat boy mode.”

He grumbled something incoherent into the pillow before peeking up at you with bloodshot eyes. “Sweetheart…”

You arched a brow. “What?”

“Fix me,” he stretched an arm out toward you like a spoiled prince demanding attention.

 “Now you want me to fix you?” You leaned down, brushing his hair back. “You don’t remember the absolute nonsense you were saying last night, do you?”

Rafe hesitated, blinking at you. “…What nonsense?”

“Oh, you know,” you said, smirking. “Telling me I’m the prettiest girl in the world. Saying you’d die if I ever left you. Practically dry-humping me in the street.”

Rafe squeezed his eyes shut, rolling onto his back and draping an arm over his face. “Kill me."

You grinned. “I got videos too.”

He looked absolutely miserable. “Baby, please.”

You pushed yourself out of bed. “I’ll get you some Advil and water.”

Rafe watched you, his lips twitching up despite his pain. “Told you you love me.”

You tossed a pillow at his face. “Shut up and suffer.”

[scarletwinterxx]

the archer - choi seungcheol imagine

helllloo ~ short backstory as to why this is titled 'the archer', i was omw home one day and the line "Who could ever leave me, darling But who could stay?" just stuck. i hope when you read this one, it will make sense😅 oh and yea we have a cute shy cheol for this one sksksks

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(photos not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve heard the crying before but tonight, it’s relentless. For nearly an hour now, it’s been Soojin’s voice echoing through your studio, softening only to rise again like a wave you can’t block out with pillows or music.

You lie there, eyes on the ceiling, heart pacing with a mixture of concern and hesitation. It’s not your place. You barely know him—Choi Seungcheol, your next-door neighbor with the quiet eyes and tired smile. You’ve exchanged the occasional nod in the hallway, a few polite words in the elevator. He moved in six months ago, shortly after the baby was born. Alone.

But something about the way the cries go unanswered tonight makes you swing your legs out of bed and pad toward your door. You don’t think too hard as you knock. It takes a moment before he opens it. 

“I’m sorry,” he starts, already looking apologetic. “She—she won’t calm down. I’ve tried everything.”

“May I?” you ask, surprising even yourself.

He blinks at you, caught off guard. But when you extend your hands, he hesitates only a second before handing her over.

She’s warm and trembling, but you sway gently, instinctively, and hum something low under your breath. an old tune from a drama your mother used to love. Soojin’s cries hiccup, then soften. Within a minute, she’s quiet against your shoulder.

You glance up.

Seungcheol is staring at you like he’s witnessing a miracle.

“Uh—wha—how?”

You glance at him, one eyebrow raised as you continue to gently sway with Soojin nestled against your shoulder, her tiny fists tucked under her chin now. 

Seungcheol looks like someone just handed him the answer to a test he didn’t study for.

“I… I swear I tried everything,” he says, running a hand through his hair, which sticks out at odd angles like he’s been yanking at it all night. “Bottle, diaper, bouncing, singing—I even googled ‘is my baby possessed’ at one point.”

“That must’ve given you comforting results,” you say, adjusting your hold slightly as Soojin lets out a soft sigh. “Any luck with the holy water?”

“Didn’t get that far. I was about to throw salt at her, though.”

You laugh. You haven’t laughed like that in a while, and from the way his expression shifts, neither has he.

“Okay, but seriously,” he says, crossing his arms loosely over his chest as he leans against the doorway. “What did you do? Are you some kind of baby whisperer? Do you own a magic shoulder?”

“She probably just likes that I don’t smell like desperation and instant noodles,” you tease, nodding at the small mountain of convenience store trash on the kitchen counter behind him.

Seungcheol groans and presses his palms over his face. “That’s so valid. You’re right. I reek of ‘guy barely holding it together.’”

“You said it, not me.”

Soojin shifts in your arms but doesn’t wake. You lower yourself gently onto the couch, adjusting your hold.

Seungcheol watches, awe still etched into every line of his face. “She never calms down like that with me,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “She usually screams like I’ve offended her ancestors.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

You blink. Right. You’ve lived next door for months and this is your first real conversation. You tell him your name.

He repeats it, softly, like he’s testing the sound. “Well. I owe you. Like… a lot. If I had knees left I’d be bowing right now.”

“Save the bowing for when she starts teething,” you murmur, eyes on the baby now curled like a bean in your arms.

He laughs, and it’s warm and real, like it hasn’t been heard in his apartment for a long time.

“So,” he says after a moment, still watching you like he can’t quite believe it. “Do you do this for all your neighbors or am I just lucky?”

You glance at him over Soojin’s soft head. “Only the ones who google ‘possessed baby’ at 3 a.m.”

“Damn,” he grins. “That narrows it down.”

“She probably felt you freaking out,” you say, keeping your voice low so you don’t wake the now peacefully sleeping Soojin. “Babies are weirdly psychic like that. You panic, they panic harder. It’s like emotional Wi-Fi.”

Seungcheol squints at you. “You’re telling me this tiny human was mirroring my mental breakdown?”

You nod. “Pretty much.”

He drags a hand down his face. “Well, that makes me feel both seen and judged by someone who can't even sit up by herself.”

“She is very advanced,” you say with mock seriousness. “Clearly an empath.”

He huffs a soft laugh and flops into the armchair across from you, legs sprawled, head tilted back. “You have one too?”

You glance down at Soojin, then back at him. “A baby? No. I just like them. And—lucky me—they like me back.”

He lifts his head and raises a brow. “That’s not fair. I made her. She should like me.”

“Maybe she’s still bitter about the eviction from the womb.”

He lets out a half-laugh, half-groan, like he’s not sure whether to be offended or impressed. “I’m never going to win an argument in this house, am I?”

“Not with her from the looks of it”

He tilts his head, giving you a look that’s part amused, part grateful. “Seriously, though… thank you. I didn’t realize how close I was to completely losing it tonight.”

You shrug, glancing down at Soojin’s soft lashes against her cheeks. “It’s okay. Everyone has their limit. Even sleep-deprived single dads who try to summon baby-calming magic via YouTube.”

He groans again. “Ugh, please don’t remind me.”

“No promises.”

Seungcheol smiles—really smiles this time. “Well… if you ever want to visit your favorite fan again…”

You glance up at him. “Are you saying I have visitation rights?”

“With Soojin? Definitely. With me… maybe. I’m still evaluating.”

“Rude.”

“Fair.”

You don’t say anything at first. Just watch him watching her.

Then, softly, “She looks just like you.”

His eyes flick to you.

You nod, gentle. “Same nose. Same shape of her eyes when she squints. I saw it the moment you opened the door.”

Seungcheol huffs a quiet laugh, the sound laced with disbelief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling down at Soojin. “It’s a good face to grow into.”

He exhales, some of that pressure inside him loosening, like you handed him a valve to let the fear out slow. He rubs the back of his neck, looks down at the floor, then at his daughter again.

“I’m scared all the time,” he admits. He doesn't know why he's telling you this but it's too late to stop, “Like—I love her so much it physically hurts, but I keep wondering if that’s enough. If loving her this much makes up for everything I can’t give her yet.”

“You’re here,” you say. “You’re trying. You’re sleep-deprived, semi-malnourished, and your apartment smells like baby wipes and cold coffee. But you’re here. That already makes you better than a lot of people.”

“Also,” you add, “she fell asleep in like, two minutes. I’m pretty sure that means she’s happy and safe. Or she’s secretly plotting. Either way, you’re doing okay.”

“Thanks,” he says. “For everything tonight.”

You shrug one shoulder. “What are neighbors for, right?”

=

A knock at your door isn't unusual. Packages, random hallway noise, maybe the building ajumma making her rounds with gossip and kimchi. But this one is too soft to be a delivery guy and too polite to be a kid. You pause your Netflix episode and head over, peeking through the peephole.

It’s Seungcheol.

You open the door and he’s standing there in jeans, a hoodie zipped halfway up, one strap of Soojin’s diaper bag slipping off his shoulder. He looks a little frazzled, hair tousled like he ran his hand through it too many times.

“Hey,” he says, a little breathless. “Sorry, are you busy?”

You glance behind him. Soojin is in his arms, blinking like she just woke up from a nap and hasn’t decided whether the world deserves her attention yet.

“Not really,” you say, brows raised. “Everything okay?”

He nods, shifting Soojin to his other arm. “Yeah—yeah, I just—look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really quick, but I have to run down to the ward office to drop off some paperwork. It’s boring, annoying, and they hate when babies scream through it.”

You smirk. “So you’re abandoning your child to avoid judgement.”

“Exactly,” he deadpans. “And you’re the only person she doesn’t seem to think is a demon in disguise.”

You hold out your hands automatically, and he hesitates just long enough to look guilty before gently placing Soojin in your arms. She blinks up at you like, Oh, it’s you. Okay, this is fine, then promptly grabs a fistful of your shirt.

“I’ll be gone maybe thirty, forty minutes tops,” he says, already half-turning like he doesn’t trust himself not to second-guess this. “I swear, if she cries, I owe you—like—coffee for a month. Or five years. Whatever’s fair.”

“She’ll be fine,” you assure him, bouncing her a little as she starts to hum her sleepy protest song. “Go do your boring adult things. We’ll be here, judging your outfit.”

He looks down at himself, frowns. “What’s wrong with my hoodie?”

“It’s giving ‘college sophomore in finals week.’”

He looks personally wounded. “Wow. Harsh from someone wearing pajama pants.”

“Bold of you to assume these are pajamas and not my formal lounging attire.”

He grins, then presses his palms together in a dramatic bow. “Gamsahamnida. You are a lifesaver.”

“Go, Seungcheol,” you say with mock severity, like you're kicking him out of your own house. “Before I charge you babysitting rates.”

“Noted,” he says, already backing down the hallway. “If she starts crying, play her that weird folk song you hummed the other night. She apparently likes that.”

You snort. “It’s not weird. It’s vintage. Now go.”

He disappears down the hallway, mumbling something about government forms and how adulthood is a scam. You close the door, look down at Soojin.

About an hour after Seungcheol left, someone knocked on your door again.

“She’s out,” you said.

Seungcheol blinks “Out?”

“Like a light,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “Didn’t even fight it. Just conked out mid-conversation with her carrot.”

He entered cautiously, peering over at the couch where Soojin lay snoozing like an angel, one sock halfway off her foot. His whole body went still for a second, like even his breathing slowed down.

“No way,” he muttered. “She never naps this easily. I have to do a whole routine. Like, bouncing, swaying, bribery, gentle pleading—”

You held up a hand. “To be fair, I did sing her an exclusive remix of ‘Arirang’ with some freestyle humming in between. It was Grammy-worthy.”

Seungcheol leaned down slightly, adjusting Soojin’s sock with that instinctive tenderness he probably didn’t even notice he had anymore. 

“You’re doing okay, you know,” you said quietly.

He looked at you, startled.

“I mean it,” you added. “You always look like you’re bracing for a storm, but… she’s happy. You’re doing okay.”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “I never know if I am.”

“You are.”

He nodded slowly, then straightened up, brushing a hand through his hair. “Okay. Um. Thank you. Really. I owe you, like… a year’s supply of coffee or something.”

You grinned. “How about you start with dinner next time?”

He paused. Not in surprise but like he was waiting to make sure you really said what he thought you said.

“Dinner?” he repeated.

You leaned against the doorframe, casual. “Yeah. You bring the baby, I’ll bring dessert. Seems fair.”

“Deal,” he said.

“Why don’t we let her sleep?” you say, voice soft. “You want coffee?”

His head snaps toward you like you just offered him oxygen. “God, yes.”

You stifle a laugh. “Come on.”

You move to the kitchen and start pulling mugs from the shelf. Behind you, he hovers awkwardly for a second before cautiously lowering himself onto one of the kitchen chairs like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to sit down in someone else’s life yet.

You hand him a mug, fingers brushing his. “Cream and sugar?”

He stares at you for a second too long.

“Huh? Oh—yeah. Just a little.”

You smirk as you fix it the way he asked, then slide it across the counter. “Look at you. Saying ‘just a little’ like you didn’t pour half the sugar jar into your coffee the other morning.”

He narrows his eyes over the rim of the mug. “I was sleep-deprived. I needed moral support in powdered form.”

You sit across from him with your own cup, resting your chin in your palm. “And here I thought you were this composed, competent, remote-working professional.”

He scoffs. “I am composed and competent. Most of the time. Except before 8 a.m. Or when Soojin decides sleep is for the weak.”

“So… most days,” you tease.

He shakes his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. One that doesn’t look so tired now. You sip your coffee and let the quiet stretch a little, comfortable and warm.

“Thanks again,” he says after a moment. “For today. For—whatever magic you’ve got going on. I still don’t get it.”

You shrug. “She’s easy to love.”

There’s something in his face that flickers at that. like he’s trying not to show how much those words hit. His thumb taps against the side of the mug.

“She really is,” he says. “But… sometimes I forget that it’s okay to enjoy it. I’m so busy trying to keep up with everything, I think I forget to stop and—feel it.”

You lean back slightly, studying him. “Well. You’ve got backup now. Whether you want it or not.”

He settles more into the chair, like your words gave him permission to breathe a little deeper. The mug cradled in his hands, still warm, anchors him in the moment.

You glance toward the living room, then back at him. “You always wanted to be a dad?”

He hums, considering. “Yeah. I think so. Not like—I didn’t grow up dreaming of diaper bags and formula,” he says with a faint smile, “but… I always liked the idea. Being someone’s safe place.”

Your heart stirs a little at that. You hadn’t expected such a soft answer.

“And now that you are?” you ask, gently.

He exhales a laugh, tilting his head. “It’s like I got dropped in the middle of the ocean with floaties and a smile and they were like, ‘Good luck!’” He pauses, then adds, “But then she looks at me like I’m her entire world and suddenly I don’t mind drowning a little.”

You smile into your mug. “That’s… weirdly poetic for someone who wears socks with mismatched cartoon characters.”

He looks scandalized. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to when you wore Pororo and Iron Man.”

“Okay, but hear me out. Laundry day.”

“Sure,” you nod solemnly. “Blame the system.”

“What about you?” he asks after a moment. “No kids of your own, but you’re, like, terrifyingly good at it.”

You shrug, swirling your coffee. “I’ve always liked being around them. Babysat a lot. Volunteered at a daycare during uni. There’s something honest about babies, you know? They don’t pretend. If they like you, they like you. If they don’t, you know immediately.”

He grins. “So what you’re saying is, Soojin’s got good taste.”

“Exceptionally,” you deadpan. “Especially considering her father pairs Iron Man with penguins.”

You both laugh again, soft and low so you don’t wake the sleeping queen in the next room. 

“You know,” he says, almost shy, “I didn’t expect any of this. The neighbor thing. You, being... kind.”

You quirk a brow. “Kind? Is that what we’re calling basic human decency now?”

He gives you a look. “It’s different. Most people don’t know what to do with single dads. They either pity you or overstep.”

You nod, thoughtful. “I’m not here to fix anything. I just... like her. And you’re not exactly awful either.”

He chuckles. “High praise.”

You finish your coffee and set the mug down with a soft clink. “Besides, I figure anyone who handles a teething crisis without crying deserves at least a neighbor who makes decent coffee.”

“This is decent?” he teases, lifting his mug. “That’s all I get?”

You smirk. “I’m keeping ‘great’ in my back pocket. You have to earn it.”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, and smiles in that quiet, melting way he’s got. “Challenge accepted.”

=

It’s been a few days, but the rhythm is already familiar.

You’re coming home later than usual. Just as you hang up and juggle your keys, you hear it again. soft giggling, baby babble, and the unmistakable click of a stroller wheel bumping over the hallway tile.

You glance back and there they are. Seungcheol in a black cap and hoodie, pushing the stroller like he’s trying to look inconspicuous but failing because Soojin is loudly babbling and flapping her arms like she’s the mayor on parade.

“Caught you,” you say, smiling.

Seungcheol grins sheepishly. “We were trying to sneak back in.”

“Oh yeah? How’d that go for you?”

He peers down at Soojin, who grins up at you like she just told a great joke. “She’s terrible at stealth.”

Soojin kicks her feet in response and lets out a very enthusiastic raspberry.

He unlocks his door, gesturing you over. “You wanna come in? She’ll never forgive me if you don’t.”

You grin. “I could be convinced.”

A few minutes later, your groceries are in the fridge, and you’re sitting on his living room floor, legs crossed, feeding Soojin tiny bits of cut-up apple. She’s babbling nonsense and trying to grab the bowl, grinning like this is the best part of her day.

Seungcheol leans against the counter, arms crossed, just watching.

“She’s been in a mood lately,” he says. “But you walk in, and she turns into a cartoon sunflower.”

You glance over your shoulder. “She just knows good vibes.”

He smiles quietly. “You’ve got this… thing. With her. I don’t even know what to call it.”

“Charm,” you say matter-of-factly.

He snorts. “Dangerous charm.”

Seungcheol walks over, drops to the floor beside you, close enough that your knees brush. You both look down at Soojin, who is now focused on trying to fit her whole fist in her mouth.

“I never thought…” he starts, then stops, fidgeting with a baby spoon. “I mean, before she was born, I didn’t know if I’d be doing this alone. I had no idea how to be good at it and I’m still scared. All the time. Like if I mess up once, it’s over. For both of us.”

You reach out, brush your fingers gently against Soojin’s soft little hand.

“She’s happy,” you say. “She’s healthy. She feels loved. That means you’re already doing the most important part right.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “Not just for this. For… showing up. For her. For me.”

You hold his gaze for a beat. “You don’t have to thank me. I like being here.”

He lets out a breath. “Yeah. Me too.”

He watches Soojin for a while, her small hands grasping at the last apple slice like it’s a national treasure. There’s a little silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just soft, shared air.

Then, without you asking, his voice comes low, careful.

“Her mom… left after she was born.”

You don’t move. You just listen.

“She—uh, she told me she wasn’t ready. For any of it. And I guess I knew. Deep down. We were already drifting, and then the pregnancy—it just pushed everything to the surface.”

He looks down at his hands, thumb rubbing at a small mark on his knee.

“I tried to hold things together for a while. Bought the crib. Took the classes. Thought maybe if I showed her I could do it, she’d change her mind. But after Soojin was born… it was just me.”

You feel something tighten in your chest.

“I signed the papers. Named her. She wasn’t even there. No message. No goodbye.” He pauses, blinking a little too fast. “And I didn’t know if I was angry or just… numb.”

He exhales slowly, the sound more of a release than a sigh.

“It’s weird. People always say they can’t imagine doing it alone. But you don’t really get the choice. You just… do it. You wake up. You feed her. You change her. You learn what each cry means. You hold her even when you’re falling apart. And the worst part is that sometimes I wonder if I’m enough. If one parent can really make up for the absence of another. If she’s gonna grow up and ask where her mom is and… and I’ll have to tell her.”

You reach over without thinking and gently lay your hand on his. He flinches slightly, not because he’s startled—but because it’s been a long time since someone touched him like that. Quietly. Kindly.

“You are enough,” you say, voice steady but soft. “She doesn’t need perfect. She needs you. And she’s got you.”

His eyes meet yours. There’s a shine there he doesn’t bother to hide this time.

Soojin lets out a tiny burp and promptly faceplants into her own lap, startling herself into a squeaky hiccup. You both look at her, then at each other—and laugh.

And just like that, the heaviness lifts. Not completely. But enough.

Enough to let the warmth back in.

Seungcheol leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His voice, when he speaks again, is quieter than before. Like he’s afraid saying it too loud might make it more real.

“I just don’t want her to grow up thinking she wasn’t wanted.”

You look at him, and something in your chest aches. He’s not just talking about Soojin now. He’s talking about himself too. About the fear that all his love won’t be enough to drown out the silence someone else left behind.

“She won’t,” you say softly, certain. “Not with you. Not with the way you look at her like she’s your whole world. Not with the way you know the exact rhythm that calms her down. Or the way you whisper to her when you think no one’s listening.”

He gives you a shaky little smile, eyes shining, jaw tight like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“She’ll know she was wanted,” you say again, firmer now. “Because you show her. Every single day.”

He nods slowly, like he's trying to believe you. Trying to let that truth settle somewhere in the spaces guilt has lived too long.

“When she was a newborn, she hated the crib. I used to hold her all the time even when my arms ached, her little cries broke me. It still does”

You smile, imagining a newborn Soojin and a sleep deprived Seungcheol, “Yeah well cribs don’t have a heartbeat, yours probably calmed her down”

And that statement stirs something in him. Seungcheol turns to you, something breaking open in his expression. Not sadness, exactly. Just… gratitude. Raw and unguarded.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You squeeze his hand gently. “Anytime.”

=

It’s a slow, golden Saturday. You’ve got no plans today no errands, no calls, no responsibilities. Just you, your comfy clothes, and the peace of a rare free weekend. Meanwhile, right next door, Seungcheol is pacing his living room barefoot in a plain tee and gray joggers, Soojin perched in her bouncer like a tiny queen on a throne. 

He stops mid-pace, turns to her.

“Okay. Hear me out,” he says, pointing a spoon in her general direction. “We should go ask her.”

Soojin gurgles and kicks one leg.

“But like—not in a weird way,” he adds quickly, eyes wide like he’s already spiraling. “Just casually. Like, ‘Hey, what’s up, you doing anything? Wanna hang out with this delightful six-month-old and her semi-stressed dad?’ Totally normal.”

Soojin lets out a fart noise with her mouth and slaps the penguin.

“Exactly. See, you get it.”

He rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the door.

“But what if she’s got plans?” he mutters. “Like… what if she’s one of those mysterious types who secretly has a jam-packed social calendar. What if she’s got a date. A tall, charming, emotionally available—ugh. No, nope, not thinking about that.”

He turns back to Soojin, hands on hips.

“Okay, but what if she’s just chilling in there with snacks and no idea what to do with her Saturday? What if she wants someone to knock?”

Soojin makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a cough-sneeze-laugh hybrid and flings her penguin across the room.

“That’s a yes?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

She kicks both feet at once and squeals.

Seungcheol sighs dramatically. “Fine. If this crashes and burns, you’re going to daycare on Monday in mismatched socks out of spite.”

He walks to the mirror, runs a hand through his hair, then turns to Soojin. “Do I look casual? Like, ‘Hey, I just came over on instinct and not because I’ve been rehearsing what to say for the past fifteen minutes’ casual?”

Soojin lets out a loud raspberry, very pleased with herself.

He points at her. “Don’t sass me. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Finally, he scoops her up—socks and all—grabs a burp cloth (because he’s not a total amateur), and heads for the door.

“I swear, if she’s got company over and I walk in holding you like a prop, we’re moving apartments.”

Soojin gnaws on his collar, utterly unfazed. He sighs, shifts her in his arms, and knocks. Twice. Light. Hesitant.

Then waits.

And you, from the other side, put your book down, already smiling because somehow, you knew it would be them.

Seungcheol is standing there, Soojin on his hip with one sock off and the other one half-on, clinging to his collar like she owns the place. 

“Hey,” he says. Voice a touch too casual. “We were just… y’know. Wondering if you were around.”

“I am around,” you say, stepping aside. “And I see I’ve been summoned by royalty.”

“She insisted,” Seungcheol says, shifting her with a grin. “Practically bullied me into coming over.”

You raise a brow. “Ah. So this was her idea, huh?”

“Yeah. She’s the boss. I’m just the driver.”

Soojin lets out a burble and grabs your sleeve with sticky fingers like she’s making a legal claim.

“Well,” you say, gently taking her from his arms, “I’m honored to be chosen by her highness.”

You cradle her easily, bouncing her on your hip. “She smells like she’s recently made some… decisions,” you add, scrunching your nose playfully.

Seungcheol’s eyes go wide. “Oh no, did she—? Wait, really?”

You laugh. “Relax, she’s clean. I’m just messing with you.”

He exhales, clearly relieved. “Okay. Good. Because I forgot to bring the emergency diaper and I was not about to make a dramatic exit.”

You nod solemnly. “Wise. Nothing ruins a cool entrance like a diaper blowout.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway… I was just thinking, if you’re not busy today, maybe we could hang out? Or just… sit around and pretend we’re doing something productive?”

You smirk. “That sounds like exactly what I had planned.”

You motion toward your living room. “Come in. She can help me finish this coffee I forgot about an hour ago, and you can tell me what you’ve been pacing about for the last thirty minutes.”

He steps inside, mock offended. “Okay, how did you know I was pacing?”

You grin. “I didn’t but now I do”

A little while later, after Soojin had taken a tour of every object on your coffee table and spent a solid five minutes drooling purposefully on your shoulder, Seungcheol stands up with a stretch.

“I should probably grab her stuff—she’s gonna get hungry soon, and I didn’t bring anything except a bib and blind optimism.”

You snort. “Go. We’ll hold down the fort.”

He’s only gone for maybe five minutes before he reappears, slightly out of breath, carrying a small insulated bag and what looks like a pink spoon in his mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles around the spoon before pulling it free. “She has this weird sixth sense about when I try to move fast and immediately decides to throw a crisis.”

You take the bag from him as he plops onto your floor with a sigh, Soojin perking up at the sound of the zipper being undone like she knows exactly what’s coming.

Seungcheol pulls out a small container of baby food and holds it up like it’s radioactive. “Just a warning. She hates this. Like, we’ve had full negotiations over a spoonful of this stuff.”

You laugh, settling on the rug with Soojin in front of you. “What is it?”

“Sweet potato banana something? It smells… unsettling.”

He hands you the spoon and the little jar like he’s surrendering it. “She usually swats it away. Or looks at me like I’ve betrayed her.”

You scoop a small amount onto the spoon, raising an eyebrow at Soojin. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, tiny critic.”

She blinks at you, eyes curious. You gently offer the spoon—and without hesitation, she opens her mouth and eats it. Chews. Swallows. And then opens her mouth again.

You glance at Seungcheol. “Um. That didn’t seem like a struggle.”

He looks absolutely gobsmacked. “What—wait—she ate it? Just like that?”

You nod, offering her another spoonful. She chomps happily.

Seungcheol stares, eyes wide. “Are you some kind of baby whisperer? What is going on?”

You shrug, trying not to laugh. “Maybe I just have really good snack energy.”

Seungcheol leans back against your couch, watching the scene like it’s defying all natural laws. “I swear, when I try, it’s like feeding a tiny, angry gremlin who knows martial arts.”

He watches you feed her another bite and he doesn't say anything at first but his face softens. Something gentle settles in his chest. And quietly, just to himself, he thinks, Maybe we needed her in our lives more than I realized.

Soojin is fully invested now—tiny mouth open, little hands waving in excited anticipation every time you bring the spoon near. At one point, she grabs at your wrist with surprising determination, trying to pull the food toward her faster, making a high-pitched whine that’s half-demand, half-excitement.

“She’s got a strong grip,” you laugh, letting her catch your fingers as you scoop up another bite. “She means business.”

He puts a hand dramatically over his heart. “Betrayed,” he says, deadpan. “By my own blood.”

“She didn’t even hesitate!” he says, sitting up straighter to look at Soojin like she’s done something treasonous. “All that effort I’ve put in—singing songs, dancing like a clown, inventing entire operas just to get her to eat half a spoon. And here she is, practically writing you a love letter for mashed bananas.”

Soojin responds by making a delighted little grunt and reaching for the spoon again with both fists.

You grin. “Don’t take it personally. Some of us just have snack-based chemistry.”

Seungcheol slumps theatrically against the couch. “This is how it starts. First the food. Then she’ll want you to read her bedtime stories. Then I’ll be voted off the island.”

You gently guide the spoon back into Soojin’s mouth, chuckling. “She’s just expanding her circle. You’re still the main character, Dad.”

“Barely,” he mutters, though there’s no real pout to it. He’s smiling—watching his daughter giggle and eat and look up at you like you hung the moon.

And yeah. He’s a little dramatic. But he’s also never been more relieved to be outshone.

It hits him. Not like a big, dramatic realization but like a slow, quiet bloom in the back of his mind, impossible to ignore. You laugh again, brushing a bit of puree off her chin, and Soojin squeals in response, delighted.

It’s almost daunting, how easy you are with her. How completely she adores you. How at home the two of you look like this.

And he tries—really tries—not to read too much into it.

But part of his brain… the part that’s been whispering louder every day lately… it won’t stop.

It’s saying: This is what it could look like. This is what it could feel like.

And it terrifies him.

Not because it’s bad but because it’s good. Because for the first time since Soojin was born, he’s seeing a picture he didn’t even let himself hope for.

A picture with someone in it.

Someone who isn’t just passing by in the hallway anymore. Someone who holds his daughter like she’s something precious. Someone who might be holding him too, in ways he hasn’t dared to admit.

You glance over your shoulder and catch him staring.

“Everything okay?” you ask, tone light.

He clears his throat, straightens a little too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, just… zoning out.”

You smile, not pressing. “Don’t worry. Happens to the best of us.”

You’re wiping Soojin’s hands with a wet tissue, cooing at her like you’ve got all the time in the world, even though she keeps squirming and trying to eat the wipe instead. You’ve got that calm, unbothered rhythm to your movements, like nothing this baby could do would surprise or overwhelm you. Like she’s yours.

You glance over. “You good?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just thinking…”

Finally, he exhales. “The weather’s… really nice today.”

You nod slowly, smiling. “That it is.”

He looks at you a little longer, then finally goes, “Do you… wanna grab lunch? Like, out? I mean—if you don’t have plans. Which, if you do, that’s totally fine, I just thought it's too bad to waste a good day”

“I don’t have plans,” you interrupt gently, amused. “Lunch sounds good.”

“Yeah?” His eyes brighten a little.

“Yeah,” you say again, bouncing Soojin a bit. “And I think our third wheel here is already dressed for the occasion.”

Soojin squeals like she agrees wholeheartedly, flapping her arms and narrowly missing your chin.

A few minutes later, you’re all out the door. The spring air feels fresh on your face, the streets buzzing with quiet weekend energy. You walk side by side, Soojin tucked against Seungcheol in her little carrier, her head bobbing gently as he walks. 

Every now and then she lets out a content sigh or babble, and he automatically adjusts the shade over her face, so used to moving with her now it’s like second nature.

And then he speaks, a little hesitant.

“I’m not, uh…” He clears his throat. “I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes, right?”

You glance at him, brows slightly lifted.

“No jealous boyfriend about to appear out of nowhere and beat me with a stroller or something?”

You burst out laughing. “Wow. That was oddly specific.”

“I’ve seen things,” he deadpans. “This is Seoul.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “No boyfriend. No jealous ex. No one waiting in the wings.”

He hums, eyes on the sidewalk ahead. “Okay. Just had to check.”

You glance at him again, slower this time. “Why? You nervous?”

“A little,” he admits, hand resting instinctively on Soojin’s back. “You… You’ve been really kind. And easy to talk to. And Soojin loves you, obviously. I didn’t want to assume anything. Or make you uncomfortable.”

You look ahead, thoughtful, before replying softly, “You didn’t assume anything. You asked.”

He meets your eyes then, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it that way. And maybe he didn’t know how much he needed to hear that.

The place Seungcheol picks is tucked on a quiet street corner—one of those old-school Korean restaurants with handwritten menu signs taped to the walls, it’s cozy, worn in a way that feels like a warm hug.

The owner, a sprightly woman in her late sixties with cropped hair and a floral apron, greets you all with a wide smile as you step in.

“Omo, what a cutie!” she says, eyes immediately landing on Soojin nestled in Seungcheol’s carrier. “Look at those cheeks. Aigoo, she’s a living doll!”

Soojin blinks at her, wide-eyed and curious, then lets out a delighted sound that has the woman absolutely beaming.

She waves you toward a table by the window, already reaching for menus. “Sit, sit! This one’s good with the sunlight for the baby.”

You thank her, and Seungcheol gently shifts Soojin out of the carrier and into his lap while you take the seat across from them. The owner returns with water and leans slightly closer, eyes dancing between the three of you. Then she claps her hands once.

“Aigoo—what a beautiful family.”

You pause mid-sip. Seungcheol blinks.

“Oh—uh—” he starts, fumbling a little.

“We’re not—” you add, just as quickly.

But the owner just waves you both off with a cheeky grin, already scribbling something on her notepad. “Ah, I see, I see,” she says, in the tone of someone who does not see but is choosing delusion. “No need to be shy. Young parents these days, so stylish. Such a pretty mama and a handsome papa. And this baby—so healthy!”

Soojin gurgles right on cue, smacking the table with glee. Seungcheol opens his mouth again, clearly gearing up to correct her.

But then you just smile and say, “Thank you.”

The owner beams. “I’ll bring you something nice, service. For the baby, okay? Don’t worry, it’s all soft. Very gentle for little tummies.”

And just like that, she disappears into the kitchen.

Seungcheol looks down at Soojin, who is currently grabbing for the side of his sleeve with one hand and trying to eat the air with her mouth slightly open.

He chuckles. “Well. That happened.”

You lean back. “She meant well.”

“Sure. Though now we’re officially a stylish young couple with a baby.”

“Hey, I’ll take ‘stylish.’”

Then, quieter: “You handled that well.”

You smile, reaching across the table to nudge Soojin’s tiny hand. “I don’t mind being mistaken for your family.”

His eyes catch yours for a moment. And he doesn't say anything right away.

But the silence between you?

It feels like an answer he isn’t quite ready to say out loud.

The table fills slowly with food—banchan dishes placed with practiced ease, two bubbling pots of jjigae, warm bowls of rice. 

“She really thinks we’re a thing,” Seungcheol says under his breath, amused, as the woman disappears again behind the swinging kitchen door.

You lift your spoon and glance up. “You sound like you mind.”

He pauses, opens his mouth, closes it. “No,” he says after a second. “Not really.”

You nod, smile into your rice, and don’t push.

Soojin sits in her little portable chair between you, supported by pillows and mostly fascinated by a plastic spoon she’s been chewing on for ten straight minutes. Occasionally, she lets out a delighted squawk, causing you or Seungcheol to look over instinctively, like clockwork. He wipes her chin. You fix the corner of her bib. Neither of you comment on how easily it all flows.

“So,” you say between bites, “what does stylish dad do when he’s not being mistaken for my husband?”

Seungcheol chuckles. “Work. Meetings. More work. And then about sixteen loads of laundry.”

“Ah, a man of many hats.”

“Too many. I swear, I didn’t even own this many burp cloths before she was born. I don’t know where they come from. They multiply.”

You laugh, “Like gremlins?”

“Exactly. Feed them formula after midnight and bam twelve more burp cloths in the drawer.”

You both burst into quiet laughter while Soojin slaps the table enthusiastically, completely unaware of the comedy unfolding around her.

He doesn’t date. Hasn’t even thought about dating. He’s a single dad with enough on his plate to feed a small village. But sitting here, with you across the table and Soojin babbling between you like she belongs to both of you��it feels suspiciously close to something he used to want.

Something he wasn’t sure he’d get.

When lunch wraps up, the owner insists on taking a photo of “the beautiful family.”

You start to protest, but Seungcheol just laughs and waves you into the frame. You lean in beside him without hesitation, Soojin in his arms, her head flopping slightly against your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Click.

And just like that, there’s a photo of the three of you now.

Later, he won’t be able to stop looking at it.

=

You juggle your keys, your takeout bag, you hadn’t planned to stop by anywhere but the moment they handed you an extra set of banchan and grilled fish at the restaurant, something tugged at you.

Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was… him.

You pause in front of Seungcheol’s door, free hand raised to knock. You think you hear faint music something mellow, like a playlist for winding down.

You knock twice. Then the door opens.

Seungcheol blinks at you, hair slightly mussed like he’s run a hand through it more than once. 

“Hey,” you say, lifting the bag. “I accidentally ended up with enough food for two. Felt like a waste to eat alone.”

“She’s still with the sitter,” he says, stepping back to let you in. “I had some work I needed to wrap up tonight.”

“Oh,” you say, kicking off your shoes and stepping in. “So it’s just you?”

He smirks faintly. “Just me.”

“Well,” you grin, “lucky me.”

He lets out a soft, honest laugh at that and you both settle at his small dining table, where he quickly clears a stack of papers and a nearly empty coffee mug to make room.

You open the containers and start unpacking, setting up the rice, the kimchi, the fish, the spicy radish.

“You didn’t have to,” he says.

“I wanted to.” You glance up at him. 

He watches you move the plates around like it’s your table too—like this isn’t the first time. Like it won’t be the last. The food steams gently between you, the air filling with the familiar comfort of grilled sesame and garlic.

You glance at him. “You okay? You look like you’ve been thinking too much again.”

He leans back slightly in his chair. “Yeah. I just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s quiet without her. That’s all.”

“Lonely kind of quiet?” you ask, soft.

He nods slowly. “Yeah. That kind.”

You don’t say anything for a moment. You just pick up your chopsticks and slide one of the containers closer to him.

“Well,” you say gently, “for tonight, you don’t have to eat in the quiet.”

He looks at you like you’ve said something bigger than what you meant—something that echoes a little too close to a wish he hadn’t allowed himself to name yet.

But instead of running from it, he says, “Then stay a while?”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

And as the night eases in around you both, laughter slipping through conversations, the space between you doesn’t feel quite so quiet anymore.

The food dwindles slowly, not because you’re eating slow but because the conversation keeps veering—sideways, up, spiraling through nonsense. 

You learn that Seungcheol is deeply opinionated about how jjigae should be spiced, and that he once accidentally deleted an entire quarterly report because Soojin spit up on his keyboard mid-call.

You nearly choke on rice at that one.

“She projectiled,” he says, completely deadpan, “like something out of an exorcism.”

“Why do I feel like you weren’t this funny when we passed in the hallway before?” you tease.

“Because I wasn’t,” he admits, sheepishly. “I think I was trying not to fall asleep standing up.”

It’s adorable, the way he trips over his own words. Like he’s still not used to speaking freely, like he’s trying to find a version of himself that doesn’t second-guess everything he says around you.

You pretend not to notice his ears tint pink.

Eventually, when the table’s cluttered with empty containers and chopsticks, you help him clean up. He tries to wave you off—“You’re the guest, you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving you with this war zone.”

Somehow it turns into a dance of bumping elbows and nearly dropping the dish soap. He’s holding a wet bowl when your hand accidentally brushes his under the faucet.

He freezes. Just a second. But you catch it.

“I don’t bite,” you murmur with a teasing smile.

“Y-yeah,” he says, eyes flicking away like the faucet is suddenly fascinating. “I know.”

When the last bowl is drying on the rack, you both end up just… standing there. Side by side. Not saying much.

He glances at the clock. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” you say, but you don’t move right away.

He shifts his weight, rubs the back of his neck again. “Thanks. For coming over. For the food. And just… being around.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised in gentle teasing. “Why do you always sound like you’re giving an acceptance speech when you say nice things?”

“I—” He laughs, low and helpless. “I’m rusty, okay? I haven’t had adult conversations that didn’t involve pacifiers in like, months.”

You smile. “You’re doing fine.”

You step out into the hallway, then turn, glancing at him again.

“You know,” you say, “if you’re free tomorrow… you could come over for dinner. Just you. I mean unless you’ll miss the spit-up too much.”

That earns a real laugh. A shy, surprised one.

“I’ll try to survive,” he says, his hand braced against the doorframe, like he’s not sure if he should lean in or keep his distance.

You grin, backing away. “Then it’s a date.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, is it—?”

But the door’s already closing behind you. He stands there for a good thirty seconds, blinking at the wood grain.

“…A date?” he mutters to himself.

Then smiles, just a little.

Definitely doomed.

The next day Seungcheol adjusts Soojin’s little headband as they walk up to the sitter’s door, her soft babbling filling the air between them.

“Okay, I know we’ve been over this,” he says, one arm holding her close, the other fumbling for the doorbell, “but let me just say for the record—she was the one who said this is a date”

Soojin blows a raspberry.

“Exactly,” he nods. “You get it.”

“It’s just dinner. Two adults. Eating. No pressure. Just… food. With a neighbor. Who laughs at my jokes. And smells really nice. And always has that soft, glowy thing going on with you that kind of makes my brain forget how breathing works sometimes.”

Soojin lets out a coo and smacks her tiny hand on his chest.

“I know,” he sighs. “I sound like an idiot. You don’t have to rub it in.”

The door opens and the sitter beams, reaching for Soojin with practiced ease. She goes willingly—of course she does—and Seungcheol hesitates for half a second before letting go.

“Be good, okay?” he tells her, brushing a kiss to her temple. “And if I don’t make it back, tell her it was the grilled mackerel that got me.”

The sitter chuckles. “You’re being dramatic again, Mr. Choi.”

But even as he walks away, trying to play it cool, he’s hyperaware of everything.

He groans softly. “I should’ve brought Soojin. She’s a good buffer.”

But it’s too late now. 

He adjusts his collar one last time. Then knocks. This time, he's the one holding his breath.

You open the door with that familiar easy smile. Your hair’s tied back in that half-messy way that makes you look both totally relaxed and somehow unfairly gorgeous. 

Seungcheol forgets what planet he’s on for a second.

“Hey,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re just in time. I was about to taste test and pretend I knew what I was doing.”

He walks in like a man trying not to trip over his own shoelaces. “You cook and downplay your skills? What don’t you do?”

You raise a brow as you shut the door behind him. “Flatter people at the door like a drama lead.”

He clears his throat and tries to sound normal. “So… Soojin said she’d cover for me if I don’t survive this.”

“Oh yeah?” You glance over your shoulder. “And what does survival entail exactly? You afraid I’m gonna poison you?”

“No, I’m afraid I’ll like it too much and then embarrass myself asking for seconds before the rice is even done.”

You snort. “Wow. That’s dramatic.”

“I know. I was practicing in the mirror earlier.”

You pause at that, turn to face him, spoon still in hand. “Wait, what?”

He freezes. Blinks. Regrets everything.

“I mean—not seriously, I wasn’t like—practicing lines or anything. I just—I was…” He trails off and finally throws his hands in the air with a sheepish laugh. “You know what? Yeah. Mirror. Full speech. There was pacing involved. It wasn’t my finest hour.”

You break into a laugh that makes him feel like he just passed some kind of secret test. “Well, now I have to impress you. I can’t let that rehearsal go to waste.”

He watches you lift the lid off a pot, steam rising in fragrant clouds, and swears the apartment smells like something from his childhood—warm, familiar, comforting.

“You okay?” you ask, looking at him again, voice softer now.

“Yeah,” he says, hands shoved in his pockets, that same shy smile tugging at his lips. “This is… nice.”

You tilt your head. “It’s just dinner.”

You turn back to the stove, giving the stew one last stir, but your smile doesn’t fade and Seungcheol sees it. He sees how the corner of your mouth twitches like you’re trying not to grin. Like maybe he’s not the only one feeling this.

“You want to try it?” you ask, ladling a bit into a small bowl. “I need an honest review.”

“Sure, but if I say it’s good, you’ll think I’m just trying to impress you.”

“You are trying to impress me,” you say without missing a beat.

He freezes halfway to the bowl and laughs, quietly. “Wow. Okay. You’re terrifying.”

You hand him a spoon. “Eat, coward.”

He takes the spoon, eyes still on you as he tries it. Then closes his eyes. Groans. “Okay. Okay, see—now I can’t be cool about this. This is actual comfort food. Like, soul-restoring, existential-clarity food.”

You raise a brow. “Is this the speech you practiced in the mirror?”

He points the spoon at you. “You wish it was this polished.”

You both laugh again, that easy rhythm building between you like it’s always been there, waiting.

As you finish prepping, he helps without asking. Dinner is soft and familiar. Seungcheol tells you about the time Soojin tried to eat a remote control with the most serious face he’s ever seen. 

When everything’s finally done and the dishes are stacked neatly in the sink, you both end up on the couch without really saying anything about it. You sit with your legs tucked under you. He leans back, elbows on his knees. Close. Not too close.

“I had fun,” you say first, voice quiet now, softer under the buzz of the kitchen light.

He nods. “Me too.”

Then a pause. Not awkward. Not rushed. He turns his head toward you slowly, like even this moment is something he doesn’t want to break by moving too fast.

“I wasn’t really expecting tonight to feel like this,” he admits.

You look over. “Like what?”

He shrugs, but his voice is warm. “Like the part of the day I didn’t know I was waiting for.”

“You’re kind of a softie, huh?”

He groans and drops his head into his hands. “Don’t call me out like this.”

You laugh. “Too late.”

And when he lifts his head again, there’s color on his cheeks, that same bashful smile tugging at his lips—but this time, it stays. For a while, you don’t talk. You just sit. Close. Quiet. Like neither of you is quite ready for the night to end.

“So… uh,” he starts, clearing his throat once, then twice. “Soojin and I… we’re—uh—we were gonna go to the aquarium. This weekend.”

You raise your brows, curious. “Yeah?”

He nods. Doesn’t look at you. Just at his sleeve. “Yeah. Just… thought it’d be good. For her. Well—for me too. Kind of our first, like, out-out trip, y’know? Outside the baby bag radius.”

You smile, head tilting. “That’s really cute.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. Yeah. So…”

He trails off. You wait. Then he blurts it all in one go: “If you wanted to come too I mean I thought maybe you’d like it but it’s totally fine if you’re busy or if you hate fish or—”

“Seungcheol.”

He stops. Freezes like he’s been caught in a lie. You’re smiling again. That calm, steady kind that says you’ve got all the time in the world to wait out his nervous spiral.

You lean forward slightly. “I’d love to come.”

His eyes snap up to yours, wide like he wasn’t expecting that answer to be real.

“Yeah?” he says, voice too hopeful, too soft.

“Yeah,” you say, easy. “I mean, how could I say no to Soojin? She’s clearly the boss.”

He laughs, the tension finally breaking a little in his shoulders. “She is. Completely. I’ve accepted it.”

“Good,” you grin. “So… Saturday?”

“Yeah. Saturday.” He looks like he’s mentally adding that to five different lists. “Cool. Cool, cool cool…”

You squint. “You’re going to overthink this the whole week, aren’t you?”

“Only absolutely,” he says without missing a beat.

But he’s smiling. Really smiling now. And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things might actually be moving toward something better than just figuring it out day by day.

Saturday comes. You're locking your door when you hear the soft wheels of a stroller squeaking down the hallway. You turn just in time to see Seungcheol pushing Soojin toward you. Her little legs are kicking excitedly, hands flailing the second she sees you.

“She’s been doing that since we left the apartment,” Seungcheol says, breathless like he jogged here, “which is either a good sign or she thinks you have snacks again.”

You laugh, crouching to greet her. “Hi, boss lady. Ready for some fishy business?”

Soojin squeals like she understood every word.

Seungcheol grins at the both of you, adjusting the strap on the diaper bag. 

“You look nice,” you say as you stand.

He straightens. “Thanks. You too.”

Then he immediately adds, “I mean, you always do, but—uh—not that I’ve been paying attention like in a weird way, just—you know, normal neighbor-level noticing.”

You snort and start walking. “You rehearsed this too?”

“Absolutely,” he mutters.

The ride is full of soft Soojin giggles and your laughter overlapping with his quiet commentary. She grabs your fingers like they belong to her now, and when Seungcheol tries to reclaim her attention with a pacifier, she practically bats it away in protest.

By the time you get to the aquarium, it’s late morning and the crowds are still manageable. The moment you step inside Soojin goes completely still in her stroller as the first tank glows to life with swirls of orange fish. Her mouth falls open.

“Oh no,” Seungcheol whispers. “She’s about to have a spiritual awakening.”

The two of you take turns pushing the stroller, stopping often so Soojin can smack her little hands against the glass. At one point, a stingray glides by, and she lets out a tiny gasp so dramatic that a passing toddler actually applauds.

Seungcheol leans down next to her. “That’s right, baby girl. Get your nature documentary moment.”

You can’t stop laughing. “She needs her own voiceover.”

He shrugs, then adopts a deep narrator voice. “Here, the wild Soojin discovers her first sea cucumber. She is—”

“Absolutely unimpressed,” you finish, pointing at Soojin’s deadpan expression.

Lunch is simple convenience store kimbap on a bench outside, the stroller parked beside you, Soojin chewing on a toy like it wronged her in a past life. Seungcheol offers you half of his triangle kimbap without a second thought. You don’t even hesitate to take it.

“This was really nice,” you say after a moment. “I mean it. Thanks for inviting me.”

He glances at you, then at Soojin, then quickly away again. “Yeah. I—uh. I’m glad you came.”

After lunch, with the sun warm and steady above, you glance down at Soojin in her stroller. She’s got her tiny fists outstretched like she’s summoning someone, and that someone is clearly you.

You kneel beside her with a soft smile. “You wanna see the fish up close, huh?”

She squeals, arms waving dramatically now, little feet kicking like this is the most urgent request in the world.

Seungcheol stands nearby, halfway through packing up the leftover wrappers into a bag. “You don’t have to, she gets heavy—”

You’re already scooping her up, one arm cradled under her legs, the other behind her back like it’s second nature. “I think I can manage a very powerful six-month-old.”

Back inside, Soojin’s wide-eyed and alert, tiny hands reaching for the glass every time something colorful swims by. You walk slowly, giving her time at every tank, while Seungcheol trails beside you, hands occasionally brushing yours as you both lean in close to point something out to her.

The three of you moved deeper into the aquarium, into a quieter exhibit tucked in a corner where the lights were lower and the tanks stretched high like glass walls, casting slow, rippling reflections across the floor. 

You let out a quiet, awed, “Oh—look at that,” and without thinking, your hand reached out.

You grabbed his hand. The free one. Your fingers wrapped around his instinctively, tugging gently as you stepped closer to the tank, pointing upward toward the shimmering dance above you.

“Look how they move all at once—like they’re connected,” you said, voice soft.

It took a second. A full second before you realized your fingers were still around his. Still holding him. Still warm and unhurried. Your eyes flicked down—then up—to see him already looking at you, his face unreadable for a beat too long. Not surprised, exactly. Not alarmed.

Just still.

You opened your mouth to say something—maybe apologize, maybe pull away—but then he shifted his hand.

Not to let go.

His fingers curled around yours. Gentle, a little unsure, but steady. And when your gaze met his again, there was a quietness there. Something real. Something that settled between you both, subtle but unmistakable.

Soojin shifted slightly in his arms, murmuring a half-asleep sound, and he gave her a gentle bounce as his thumb brushed against the side of your hand.

Neither of you said anything more. Not because there was nothing to say, but because for the first time words didn’t seem necessary at all.

The next few days blurred into something soft.

It started with small things.

You’d stopped knocking when you came over. Seungcheol had said once, “Just come in,” and you had. 

One afternoon, you were helping fold laundry on his couch. Soojin was on the floor, busy gnawing on a teether, occasionally babbling up at you like she was chiming in. You tossed a baby sock at Seungcheol’s face. He caught it mid-air, mock-offended.

“That’s assault,” he said, tone flat but lips twitching.

“You missed a fold,” you replied, pointing at a tiny shirt he’d lazily half-folded.

“Why do baby clothes even need folding? They’re this big,” he said, holding up a onesie with both hands, then tossing it dramatically into the basket.

You laughed, and the sound made him glance over. You were grinning, hair falling a little into your face, and something about the sight made his heart do a slow, inconvenient flip.

You didn’t notice it Or maybe you did.

Another night, you both ended up cooking dinner together. His kitchen now seemingly half-stocked with things you liked. It wasn’t planned. You were there, Soojin was asleep early, and somehow your hands were brushing while reaching for the same spice jar. Again.

He paused when your fingers touched. You didn’t move either.

Then you looked at him and said, softly, “You always hesitate.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Hesitate?”

You leaned in just a little, eyes steady. “Like when you’re about to say something but stop yourself.”

He went very still. Then looked away, mumbling, “I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You didn’t push. Just smiled, gentle. “You’re not.”

Later that night, you were on the couch again. Soojin had fallen asleep in your arms mid-bottle, and you didn’t want to move her, so Seungcheol had passed you a blanket, then sat beside you again without a word.

His arm brushed yours. You didn’t move away.

In fact, you leaned into it.

And he let his shoulder rest against yours, hesitant at first. Then, gradually, comfortably, as the silence stretched and the tension thickened like a thread being pulled tighter.

Neither of you spoke.

Because maybe that silence said everything.

Because maybe you both already knew.

The living room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the kitchen light left on behind you. Soojin was curled up against your chest, utterly knocked out, her soft breaths rising and falling with yours. 

Seungcheol was beside you, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His hand was on the back of the couch, just behind your head, and every now and then, his knee would brush yours.

You chuckled quietly, so soft you felt it more than heard it.

He turned his head. “What?”

You looked at him, and your smile deepened, eyes amused. “You’re too easy to fluster.��

His lips parted like he had something to say but nothing came out. His brows lifted slightly, cheeks dusted pink in the low light.

“I am not,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

You let out another quiet laugh. “You so are.”

He shook his head, a hand running through his hair. “You’re the one who says things like that and then looks at me like… like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, tilting your head.

He groaned under his breath. “Like you’re not even trying to kill me but somehow you are.”

You paused.

And then, softer, your voice barely above a whisper, “You don’t know how my heart literally jumps when I see you.”

The words settled between you, unhurried, delicate but powerful.

Seungcheol’s eyes met yours.

There was a beat.

Then another.

He opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” he said, voice low and uneven.

“I can’t?” you teased gently, lips twitching.

“Not when we’re like this,” he said, nodding slightly to Soojin nestled on your chest. “And it’s late. And you’re… here. And you say something like that.”

Eventually, you leaned your head back against the couch cushion, still holding Soojin close, and murmured, “Maybe it’s okay, though.”

Seungcheol turned to you slowly. “What is?”

You glanced at him. A tiny, knowing smile on your lips. “Letting it happen.”

The next morning, you found a coffee waiting for you outside your door. A simple sticky note pressed to the lid with his messy handwriting: 

Thought you might need this. You always look too good to be that tired. - SC

You grinned the whole time you drank it.

One evening, you were helping him put Soojin to bed, your voice low and soft as you read aloud from a worn picture book. Seungcheol leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching.

Later, in the kitchen, as the night settled into quiet again, you rinsed out Soojin’s bottle while he dried dishes beside you. Your shoulders brushed once. Then again.

And this time, he reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You paused, looked at him, caught that flash of hesitation in his eyes, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you like that.

“You’re getting bold, Choi Seungcheol,” you teased gently.

His lips quirked. “Trying,” he admitted, cheeks pink. “Is it working?”

You set the bottle down, turned slightly to face him. “It’s cute,” you said, voice soft. “You’re cute.”

And just like that, the boldness flickered. His eyes widened a bit, and he ducked his head with a huff of embarrassed laughter. “Ah, don’t say it like that. I’m gonna combust.”

You stepped closer, your hand brushing his.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, his fingers slipped between yours still a little shy, but deliberate now. Steady.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” you said, tilting your head. “You’re kind of the highlight of my day.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

And smiled that slow, sincere smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Yeah?” he said softly.

“Yeah.”

You just looked at him, heart stuttering, and then leaned in without a word, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He blinked. The tips of his ears flushed red. “You—okay. That’s fine. Cool. Totally fine.”

“You’re flustered again,” you teased, grinning.

“You kissed me!”

“Not even on the mouth.”

“You kissed me,” he repeated, dazed but smiling.

And then, because it was him, he cleared his throat and offered his cheek again.

“…Just in case it was a fluke,” he muttered.

So you kissed him again longer this time. And he didn’t say a word after but his hand found yours, and he didn’t let go this time. You smiled, the kind of smile that crept all the way into your eyes and without a word, you stepped in and wrapped your arms around him.

You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, steady and strong—but a little fast. Like yours.

“I’m not very good at this,” he murmured, voice low near your ear.

You hugged him tighter, your cheek resting against his collarbone. “You’re doing better than you think.”

His voice came quieter this time, barely above a whisper, “I really like you.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your smile still there, softer now. “I know.”

His brows lifted, surprised. “You do?”

You nodded. “I really like you too, you know.”

His mouth opened a little like he was ready to say something but then he just smiled. He leaned in, forehead pressing gently to yours. “I think I’m gonna keep falling for you,” he whispered.

“Good,” you whispered back.

=

The apartment was quiet again, warm in the late afternoon light filtering through the sheer curtains. 

Seungcheol was in the kitchen, rinsing out Soojin’s sippy cup and tossing a few snack wrappers into the bin. He didn’t even really need to clean, he just needed to do something because otherwise his heart might start sprinting again just from thinking about how easily you laughed earlier.

When he stepped out to check on you two, a dish towel still slung over his shoulder, he froze.

There you were.

Curled into the corner of the couch, Soojin nestled securely in your arms, her tiny hand fisted in your shirt, both of you deep in sleep.

Your head had tipped slightly to the side, mouth parted, hair a little tousled from the nap. Soojin was using you like a personal pillow, her cheek pressed to your chest, completely still except for the slow rise and fall of her breathing.

And just like that—like a switch flipping in his chest—Seungcheol knew.

It wasn’t a crush.  It wasn’t just appreciation. He wasn’t just touched that you loved his daughter.

He was in it. In deep.

There was something terrifying and sacred about the way the two people he cared about most looked so safe with each other. About how he didn’t want this to be a moment—he wanted it to be a life.

Eventually, he moved quietly, grabbing the folded blanket from the armrest and gently draping it over the two of you.

You stirred slightly, shifting, and your eyes fluttered halfway open. You looked up at him blearily, smile lazy and content.

“Hey,” you whispered, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Hey,” he said just as softly.

You didn’t even move to get up, just adjusted your arms around Soojin and let your eyes fall shut again, trusting him to take care of whatever needed doing.

Later that evening, Seungcheol stood just outside a convenience store, phone pressed to his ear, one hand buried in his coat pocket as he stared out at the quiet street. The light above him buzzed faintly, the sky overhead dimming into early night.

“Hyung?” came Jihoon’s voice on the other end. “You okay?”

“I need to drink,” Seungcheol said flatly.

There was a beat of silence.

“…Like, now?”

“Now,” he confirmed.

“Did something happen?” That was Soonyoung chiming in now, voice already laced with concern and that slightly chaotic energy Seungcheol expected.

“I left Soojin with the sitter. Just come meet me. That fried chicken place near the station.”

Another silence.

Then Wonwoo’s voice, casual but amused: “You sound like you’re about to confess to a crime.”

“I might as well have,” Seungcheol muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ten minutes later, the guys showed up, filing into the booth around him. Beers clinked onto the table. Chicken arrived. And then the staring started.

Seungcheol just slumped in the booth, arms crossed, beer untouched.

“…Okay, spill it,” Jihoon said. “You didn’t call us out here just to eat.”

Seungcheol looked at them, defeated. “I think I’m in love.”

Soonyoung nearly choked on a fry. “Wait—what?”

“With your neighbor?” Wonwoo asked, already grinning.

“She fell asleep on my couch holding Soojin like—like it was nothing. Like she’s always been there. Like we’re…” He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I am so done.”

The table fell into chaotic laughter.

“I knew something was up!” Soonyoung exclaimed. “You’ve been all weird and fluttery for weeks!”

“I haven’t been fluttery,” Seungcheol mumbled.

“Bro, you giggled last time she texted you,” Jihoon deadpanned.

“Okay, maybe I giggled—”

“This is good, though, right?” Wonwoo leaned forward. “I mean… she’s great with Soojin. You like her. She likes you.”

“That’s the thing,” Seungcheol said, staring at the beer bottle. “It’s too easy. Too good. I keep waiting to mess it up. Or for her to realize I come with a lot more chaos than most people want.”

“But she already sees that,” Jihoon pointed out. “And she hasn’t gone anywhere.”

Seungcheol paused. Thought about you, smiling sleepily at him from his couch just hours ago.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “She hasn’t.”

“But like—what if it doesn’t work? I mean, she’s—she’s calm and smart and funny and actually sleeps more than three hours a night. And I’m over here talking to my ten-month-old about whether I’m embarrassing myself!”

“Didn’t you just say it was good?” Soonyoung blinked.

“I did, but that was ten minutes ago when I was delusional and riding the high of a nap scene from a drama,” Seungcheol groaned. “Now I’m thinking about the reality of it.”

He shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth like that would fix it, then talked around it.

“I mean, look at me. I’ve got formula in half my clothes, I haven’t gone on a proper date in more than a year, and my idea of romance is asking someone if they want to share baby wipes. That’s not attractive. That’s functional despair.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “Functional despair sounds like a great band name.”

“I’m being serious,” Seungcheol said, waving his chopsticks. “She deserves someone who’s not already drowning in dad mode. Someone who doesn’t have to pause kisses to check if the baby monitor blinked.”

“So don’t kiss near the baby monitor?” Jihoon offered unhelpfully, popping a fry in his mouth.

Seungcheol ignored him and ran a hand through his hair, “What if I fall harder and then she decides she can’t do this? Or worse, what if Soojin gets attached and then she leaves? That’ll wreck both of us.”

“Or,” Wonwoo said slowly, “she stays. Because she already cares. You’re kind of freaking out about something that hasn’t even started.”

“I’m pre-freaking,” Seungcheol corrected. “It’s like damage control but emotional.”

Soonyoung stared at him. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Yes,” Seungcheol said dramatically. “And I don’t like it.”

“You’re so gone it’s almost poetic,” Jihoon muttered.

Seungcheol groaned and dropped his forehead to the table. “I hate how much I like her.”

And underneath all their laughter, the teasing and snark, none of them missed the truth in his voice.

Wonwoo leaned back, one eyebrow raised. “Do you though?”

Seungcheol lifted his head slowly, hair slightly flattened from where it had been pressed. “Do I what?”

“Hate how much you like her.”

Seungcheol sighed, finally leaning back in the booth. “No,” he muttered. “I don’t. That’s the problem.”

Jihoon smirked. “You poor sap.”

Soonyoung grinned. “Wait until she actually kisses you. Your brain’s going to short circuit.”

“If she kisses me,” Seungcheol stressed. “I’m still not even sure I’m not imagining half of this. What if I’m misreading things? What if she’s just naturally sweet and I’ve been out of the game so long I’m confusing basic kindness with affection?”

“Okay first of all,” Jihoon said, “you’re not imagining it. Remember when you said she called Soojin her girl once. Like, ‘where’s my girl?’ You don’t ‘my girl’ someone else’s baby unless you’re all in.”

“Exactly,” Wonwoo said, raising his glass. “You're not doomed. You're just deeply, ridiculously smitten. Congratulations.”

Seungcheol let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and picked up his beer.

“Yeah,” he said, staring at the glass. “I really, really am.”

He stood there, keys in hand, swaying just slightly not from alcohol, really, but from overthinking. The hallway was quiet, dim, the kind of silence that made every thought echo a little louder in his head.

His fingers hovered over your door, not quite ready to knock.

He sighed and leaned his shoulder against the frame, muttering to himself, “She’s probably asleep. Or busy. Or—”

Click.

The door swung open, and there you were, hair a little tousled like you'd just gotten comfortable, holding a half-full mug and blinking in surprise.

“Oh—hey,” you said, a little smile tugging at your lips. “Were you about to knock?”

Seungcheol froze like you’d caught him sneaking candy from a jar. “I—uh. Maybe. I wasn’t sure if—uh—hi.”

You leaned on the frame too, mirroring his posture. “Hi.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but your eyes. “I didn’t mean to be weird. I was just… standing. Near your door. For no suspicious reason.”

“Completely normal,” you deadpanned, but the soft laugh in your voice made his shoulders relax.

“I was with the guys,” he explained. “Had a drink. Nothing wild. No one danced on tables.”

“Disappointed in you, honestly,” you teased, stepping back slightly. “You wanna come in?”

He blinked. “Really?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you were already loitering. Might as well make it official.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you set your mug down on the table. “You good?”

He blinked, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just… wasn’t expecting you to open the door right when I was about to have a full internal crisis.”

You smirked, settling onto the couch. “Timing’s always been my thing.”

“You ever feel like your brain’s just… racing ahead of everything else?”

You gave a soft laugh. “Constantly. That’s why I eat snacks in bed. Brings balance.”

He chuckled, head dropping for a second before he glanced at you. “I think I’m just…” He hesitated. “Scared.”

Your voice was quiet. “Of me?”

“No. God, no.” His answer came quickly, eyes wide. “Of… how easy it is. With you. And how fast that happened. It’s not bad. It’s just... surprising. And kind of terrifying.”

You leaned back, watching him gently, your voice softer now. “You don’t have to rush anything.”

He looked at you like that was the first thing he needed to hear all week.

“I know,” he said. “I just… I want to get it right. With you. With her.”

“You already are,” you said simply. “Even when you’re awkward and rambling.”

He groaned and flopped back against the couch. “Don’t remind me.”

You smiled, looking at him. “It’s charming.”

He turned his head toward you. His voice was quieter. “You think?”

You nodded. “I do.”

And maybe it was the way the room felt warm or how the night wrapped around the moment so gently but he looked at you for a long beat, his eyes a little softer, his heart a little louder. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

You didn’t say anything either. Just leaned over, slow and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He went still for a moment when your head gently rested against his shoulder, but then you felt it the subtle shift of him relaxing, his shoulder settling just a little deeper into the couch so you’d be more comfortable. Like his body had made space without him thinking about it.

His arm lifted awkwardly at first, like he wasn’t sure where to put it, before it curved around your back, warm and tentative. You heard him breathe in, soft and shaky.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, the words brushing the top of your hair.

You nodded, your voice just as low. “Yeah.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t awkward this time. It was gentle. Companionable.

Eventually, he whispered, half-laughing under his breath, “This is really dangerous.”

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him. “Why?”

His eyes were on the ceiling, a crooked smile forming. “Because I could get used to this.”

You shifted just slightly so you could look up at him, your cheek still resting against his shoulder. “You know,” you said softly, “you’re allowed to feel things. To want things. You can be more than Soojin’s dad.”

His gaze dropped to you slowly, like the weight of your words took time to settle. His eyes searched your face, but he didn’t speak, not yet.

You reached up, brushing your fingers gently over the crease between his brows. “You’re still Seungcheol.”

And it wasn’t until right then that he realized how much he needed to hear that. How long he’d been carrying this version of himself, carefully trimmed down to the essentials: provider, protector, father. As if there wasn’t space for anything more. As if it was selfish to even hope for it.

But here you were. Not asking for anything. Not expecting him to be perfect. Just… seeing him.

“I forgot,” he said finally, his voice a little rough. “I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

“You’ve been doing the hard stuff,” you murmured. “You’ve been strong for her. But you don’t have to lose you in the process.”

His arm tightened around you slightly, his thumb brushing against your side in small, grounding circles. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to. The way he looked at you said everything.

“I didn’t think I’d get this again,” he said after a long silence. “This kind of quiet. This kind of—someone.”

You looked up at him again, your voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t lose your chance, Seungcheol.”

He glanced down at you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to believe it.

“I think you’re kind of incredible,” you added, smiling just a little. “Even when you’re running off to buy emergency baby food or panicking in the hallway at midnight.”

A small, surprised laugh slipped from him, his eyes crinkling. “You remember that?”

You bumped your shoulder into him lightly. “You muttered a full monologue out there.”

He shook his head with a bashful smile. “I was trying to psych myself out of it.”

“Did it work?”

He looked at you again. Really looked. His gaze softened.

“No,” he said quietly. “Not even close.”

“I don’t know what this is yet,” he said, his voice unsure but honest. “But I know I don’t want to run from it.”

You smiled, leaning your head back on his shoulder. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you.”

He chuckled under his breath, his head tilting down to rest against yours again.

And just like that, the silence returned—but this time, it held something new. Something neither of you said aloud yet, but both of you felt.

The beginning of something.

=

It’s another random day, the three of you just lounging around. 

Soojin was curled between you, triumphant and snug, and Seungcheol was pretending to pout, eyes narrowed at her while trying not to smile. His arm was still behind you, his body warm and close, and for a second you looked at him

And then, almost without thinking, you leaned in.

A soft kiss. half on his cheek, half on the corner of his lips.

He froze. You pulled back slowly, your smile still there but quieter now, a little uncertain. And then he turned his head toward you, just enough that your faces were closer again, but not quite touching.

“You missed,” he said, voice low, a little breathless.

You raised a brow, trying to play it cool even as your pulse fluttered. “Did I?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second. “A little.”

Soojin, completely oblivious, let out a content sigh in your arms and stuffed her fingers into her mouth.

You looked at him, at the way his usually calm eyes were dancing with something nervous and bold all at once. And then you leaned in again closer this time, a heartbeat away—

Only for Soojin to let out the loudest hiccup of her life and slap a drool-covered hand to your chin.

You and Seungcheol both burst out laughing.

“Okay,” you said, grinning as you wiped your face. “She’s really committed to cockblocking you.”

Seungcheol laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth. “She’s ten months old and already has better timing than I ever will.”

But even after the moment passed, even with Soojin demanding your attention again, he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye—like the space you almost closed still lingered in his chest.

You were finishing the last of the dishes, sleeves rolled up, humming under your breath when you felt the shift in the room. You didn’t need to turn around—you could sense him. That quiet energy of his when he wasn’t quite sure how to act, like he was rehearsing what to say even as he approached.

Then, arms slid around your waist.

You smiled before he even said anything.

“Hey,” Seungcheol murmured against your shoulder, his voice low, a little too casual.

You grinned, rinsing the last plate. “Hey yourself.”

His hold tightened, not too much, just enough to feel the beat of your pulse and make you pause. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath warm against your neck.

“You do this now every time I’m doing dishes?” you teased, flicking water off your fingers. “Getting cozy so you don’t have to help?”

“I like the view,” he muttered.

You turned your head toward him with an amused look. “Of the sink?”

“Of you at the sink,” he said, then groaned quietly like he hated himself for how that came out. “That sounded better in my head.”

You laughed, setting down the towel and turning in his arms, your hands still a little damp as they rested against his chest. “You’re really bad at this, huh?”

“I am,” he admitted, no hesitation, ears slightly pink. “Like, embarrassingly bad.”

“I kinda like it,” you said with a soft smile. “It’s… endearing.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head slightly, watching you. “Endearing enough that I don’t need to pretend I came out here for water or something?”

You squinted at him. “You came out here to flirt.”

“I really thought I was being subtle.”

“You were about as subtle as Soojin when she wants to be picked up.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Harsh.”

“But accurate,” you teased, poking his chest gently.

There was a beat then, quiet and close. His hands were still on your waist, yours resting between his ribs and shoulders. The kitchen was soft around you, dim and warm, the sound of the hallway clock ticking faintly in the background.

And suddenly the air changed.

Seungcheol swallowed. “I’ve… kind of wanted to do this for a while now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Help with the dishes?”

He huffed a laugh, nervous and fond all at once. “God, you’re really not gonna let me have this moment easy, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Then he leaned in. Tentative, close enough for your breath to catch but still watching your face like he was giving you every chance to pull away. You didn’t.

Your hands slid around his neck instead, fingers curling into the hair at his nape. “Okay,” you whispered, “I’ll let you have this moment.”

He smiled. Soft, real, and just a little shaky.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. His nose bumped yours a little, and your teeth almost clacked from the way you both smiled halfway through it. But it was warm and real and his hands tightened just slightly like he was anchoring himself there with you.

When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“Worth the bad lines?” he asked.

“Definitely,” you whispered, cheeks flushed.

And from the hallway, as if on cue, Soojin let out a sleepy little squeak in her crib.

You both laughed quietly.

“Guess that’s our timer,” you said, leaning into him again.

He kissed your temple, still holding you like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. “She’s gonna be so mad she missed that.”

=

It was an ordinary morning. Soojin was babbling her usual string of soft sounds while sitting on the floor between you and Seungcheol.

You were handing her one of her favorite toys, grinning as she smacked it against her chubby thigh in excitement. She was bouncing, babbling, making nonsense sounds and grabbing at your sleeve like she always did when—

“Mama.”

It was soft. Clear. Unmistakable.

You froze mid-reach. So did Seungcheol, his mug halfway to his mouth.

The silence that followed was almost comical. Soojin just blinked up at you like she hadn’t just shattered the entire room into stillness.

You slowly turned your head to look at Seungcheol. He was already looking at you, eyes wide.

“Did she—” you started.

He nodded, eyes even wider now. “She said—”

“Mama,” Soojin chirped again, reaching for your hand with her gummy grin.

You blinked fast, a wave of emotion flooding your chest so quickly it knocked the breath out of you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol was already moving, crawling closer to the two of you, completely abandoning his coffee. “Wait—say it again, Soojin. What was that?”

But she just giggled now, slapping your arm with baby enthusiasm, still beaming. “Mama!”

You laughed, a sound caught between a sob and sheer disbelief, hugging her instinctively to your chest. “I swear I didn’t teach her that. I didn’t—”

“I know,” Seungcheol said, staring at you both like the world had just shifted. “She just… she chose it.”

“She called you mama.”

You looked up at him, cheeks warm, eyes a little wet. “She did.”

He leaned in and kissed the top of Soojin’s head, then your temple. His voice was barely a whisper, like it was only meant for the space between the three of you.

“She knows who loves her.”

Your eyes welled up so fast it surprised even you. You blinked hard, trying to breathe through it, but the moment, it cracked something open.

Seungcheol’s head snapped up, alarm flashing across his face. “Wait—are you crying? Are those—are you okay? Was it too much? I mean, she just—she just said it out of nowhere, I didn’t mean for—"

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head as you held Soojin closer. She patted your cheek, like she could sense it. “No—no, it’s not that, it’s just—” you looked up at him, your voice catching in your throat. “Do I deserve that? Is that okay with you?”

His breath caught. His mouth parted, like the words couldn’t come fast enough.

“Hey,” he said, moving closer on his knees, gently reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You didn’t take her from anyone. She chose you. She’s been choosing you.”

You swallowed hard, but the tears still fell, quiet and honest. “I’m not her mom…”

“You love her like one,” he whispered. “She feels that”

You stared at him, breath shaky.

“I didn’t know if it was okay,” you murmured, “to feel this much.”

He leaned forward, forehead touching yours. “It’s more than okay.”

Soojin squirmed in your arms, reaching one tiny hand up to grab a piece of your hair and yanking gently. You both laughed, eyes still wet. And then Seungcheol pressed a kiss to your cheek, soft and sure.

“Welcome to the family, mama.”

You were crouched on the floor, gathering up Soojin’s toys and it hit you all at once. The memory, bright and clear, of her smiling up at you with those shining eyes, her chubby hands reaching out as she said it.

Mama.

The quiet shuffle of feet made you look up. Seungcheol stood at the edge of the room, eyes wide with concern, a half-folded blanket still in his hands.

“Hey—” he said gently, moving to crouch in front of you. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You shook your head, wiping at your cheeks, the words barely able to form. “I don’t know. I just—” you swallowed, voice cracking. “She looked at me like that. She smiled and she called me mama like I’ve always been that for her and I—”

He moved closer, hands bracing on your arms as if to ground you.

You took a deep breath and looked at him, tears still spilling. “How can I even love someone this much? She’s not even mine, but I feel it—I feel like she is. Every part of her. And then I think…” Your voice wobbled harder. “I think, how could anyone not want that? How could her mother not want her? Not love her?”

Seungcheol’s expression folded not in shock, not in discomfort but in something raw and full of understanding. He pulled you forward, wrapping his arms around you tight, pressing your face against his shoulder as you cried.

“I ask myself that all the time,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. But I’m grateful—” he held you tighter—“so damn grateful that she has you. That she loves you.”

You clutched his shirt in your fists, letting yourself cry into him, letting the weight of all of it — the love, the ache, the wonder of being chosen — pass through you.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” you whispered.

“You won’t,” he said softly. “You already gave her what no one else did.”

You pulled back a little, eyes still glassy. “What’s that?”

He smiled gently. “Your whole heart.”

“I don’t want her to grow up ever thinking she doesn’t have enough love,” you said, voice raw and breaking. “She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves so much more.”

Seungcheol’s arms tightened around you, his breath catching like your words had punched straight through his chest.

“She won’t,” he said firmly, his voice a little hoarse now too. “Not with you in her life. Not with us.”

You pulled back, just enough to look up at him, your face still streaked with tears. “What if one day she wonders why her mom left? What if I can’t—what if I’m not enough to cover up that kind of ache?”

His hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears away with the gentlest touch. “You being here doesn’t erase what happened,” he said. “But it gives her something else to remember. Something better. She’s gonna grow up knowing that she was wanted so badly that even the people who didn’t have to stay… did.”

Your breath hitched.

“I didn’t mean to love her like this,” you admitted. “I didn’t expect to. But now I can’t imagine not.”

“She doesn’t know anything else but love when you’re around,” he said quietly. “You’ve already changed her whole world. Mine too.”

You closed your eyes, more tears slipping free, but they didn’t feel heavy now. They felt… full.

“I’m so glad she has you,” he whispered. “I’m so glad I do too.”

And there, in that quiet room filled with baby toys and love you didn’t see coming, you nodded and leaned into him, holding on like the two of you — all three of you — were exactly where you were meant to be.

=

He was just coming out of the other room, towel slung around his shoulders, when he heard your voice. Not loud. Not laughing. Not teasing like it usually was when you played with Soojin. 

This was quieter—gentler.

He padded closer to the bedroom doorway, peeking in without making a sound. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor in one of his old sweatshirts, Soojin nestled between your knees, her little arms lifted as you struggled to get her tiny hand through the sleeve of her onesie.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, a fond smile on your lips as you smoothed the fabric over her back. “Look at you, almost dressed all by yourself. You’re so smart.”

Soojin babbled in response, wiggling slightly as if trying to help.

“You are,” you told her softly, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “So smart, and brave, and kind. And everyone who meets you is going to see that, because you shine. You know that? You shine.”

He stilled, towel forgotten in his hand. Something tugged hard in his chest. You laughed a little when Soojin blew a spit bubble in reply, unbothered, like she understood every word you said.

“And you’ve got the strongest little heart,” you continued, guiding her chubby feet into her leggings. “You’ve been through more than most, haven’t you, sweetheart? But you keep going. You keep smiling. And you’re so, so loved.”

You paused for a second, your fingers slowing.

“By your dad,” you whispered, kissing her forehead. “By me.”

Soojin squealed, flapping her arms with glee, and you grinned, lifting her up in a little bounce. “Yeah? You know it, huh?”

Seungcheol leaned against the doorframe before he could stop himself, heart in his throat, eyes on you like he couldn’t believe this was real. You glanced over, surprised, but your smile didn’t falter.

“Hey,” you said, lifting Soojin a little higher. “We’re dressed. Tell Daddy we got dressed like champs.”

He laughed “I heard.”

You tilted your head. “Too much?”

He shook his head. “Not even close.”

And in that moment, watching you cradle his daughter like she was the whole world and speak to her like every word mattered, Seungcheol realized something else. 

You weren’t just part of his life now. You were helping build it.

You were still laughing softly with Soojin, brushing her wispy hair back and blowing a gentle raspberry to her cheek, when he said it.

“I love you.”

Your hand paused midair.

The room stilled not tense, but full. Full of everything that had been building for weeks in glances, in soft touches, in the way you carried his daughter like she was a part of you, too.

You looked up slowly, lips parted slightly, eyes wide with something between surprise and breathless warmth. “What?”

He stepped forward, leaving the towel forgotten on the hallway floor. His voice was calmer than he expected, his hands at his sides, heart pounding—but steady.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to say it just now. I was going to… I don’t know. Plan it better, maybe.”

You blinked, standing up with Soojin still in your arms, her head now resting lazily on your shoulder like she was sensing something important.

“But then I heard you,” he went on, his voice rough around the edges. “The way you talk to her. The way you love her. And I just—there was no way I could keep it in.”

You stared at him for a beat longer, as if trying to decide if this was real, if you were allowed to feel everything you were suddenly feeling.

Then your mouth curved into the softest smile, and your eyes glistened.

“You’re really bad at planning, huh?”

He let out a breath of a laugh, stepping closer. “Terrible. But I meant it.”

You nodded, hugging Soojin a little tighter between you. “I know.”

He tilted his head, suddenly unsure again. “You know?”

Your smile deepened as you stepped close enough to press your forehead to his, Soojin squished gently between your chests. “Of course I know.”

Then, quieter, your lips brushing his:

“And I love you, too.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months.

You felt it — the way his shoulders dropped, the quiet shudder of relief through his body, how his hands finally moved to hold your waist, steady like he was anchoring himself to the moment. You didn’t pull away. If anything, you leaned in closer, letting Soojin nestle in between you both like she belonged there — because she did.

He let out a breathless laugh, rubbing one hand gently up your back. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You smiled against his jaw. “You let me in. That’s enough.”

Soojin shifted in your arms with a sleepy little whimper, and both of you instinctively rocked slightly, a quiet rhythm the two of you had already fallen into like it was second nature.

Seungcheol watched you the curve of your smile, the softness in your eyes, the way your arms curled protectively around Soojin like you were born to love her.

And now, him too.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I want you to stay.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyebrows raised slightly. “Today?”

He shook his head, a little crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“No,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “I mean… in our life. Always.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, full and aching and warm.

You whispered, “Okay.”

And when he leaned down this time — with Soojin smooshed between you both, giggling now, tiny hands batting at your chins — you tilted up to meet him halfway, a soft, sure kiss shared right there in the center of your little world.

Messy, imperfect, beautiful.

Yours.

=

It was the day before Soojin’s first birthday, and the apartment was a gentle mess of soft pinks, pastel streamers, and tiny decorations waiting to be set up. 

Later that evening, after Soojin had gone down for the night, the apartment was unusually quiet. The living room still held the remnants of earlier chaos. You were at the table, folding the last few napkins.

You caught him staring.

“What?”

He gave a guilty little smile. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“That’s always dangerous.”

He laughed under his breath. “True.”

“Thinking about what?”

He hesitated, then came to sit across from you, elbows resting on the table, hands clasped. “Just… tomorrow. Her first birthday. It feels like a milestone for her, but also… for me.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hands. “I think it is. You kept her alive, loved, and growing for a whole year. You did amazing.”

“She made it easy. And you…” he trailed off, gaze softening. “You came in and filled in every space I didn’t know was empty.”

Your heart squeezed at that.

“You know,” he said after a beat, “I used to count down every hour until bedtime. Just so I could breathe for a second. And now—now I look forward to the mornings because I get to see her smile. And I get to see you.”

You smiled gently, voice quiet. “Cheol…”

“I mean it,” he said, sitting up a bit straighter. “You changed everything.”

You reached across the table, resting your hand over his. He turned his palm to meet yours, fingers lacing instinctively, like they’d always meant to do that.

Then he squeezed your hand. “Wanna stay over again tonight? Just us. Before the chaos of tomorrow.”

You smiled softly. “Only if you make me your famous midnight ramen.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

He stood, pulling you up with him by your joined hands. You laughed as he tugged you close, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

Later, you found yourselves curled on the couch, sharing a blanket, your legs tangled, a bowl of instant ramen balanced between you. You took turns feeding each other, whispering quiet jokes and memories from the past few months, letting the soft light from the kitchen be the only thing illuminating the moment.

And neither of you said it, but it was clear. This, it wasn’t fleeting. It was growing roots.

Right here, in the warmth of laughter and late-night ramen, on the eve of a little girl’s first birthday.

You're both lying in bed, the lights dimmed to a soft glow, the sheets pulled up to your waists. Soojin was asleep in her room, the baby monitor quiet on the nightstand. Seungcheol was on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other resting just barely on your waist.

You’d been talking about her birthday party tomorrow, about whether the cake would survive the trip from the bakery, about how she was probably going to end up covered in icing before the day was done. 

You’d laughed, light and sleepy, and then the room had gone quiet. Not awkward—just still.

And you’d gone quiet too.

He noticed it almost instantly.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your arm. “Where’d you go just now?”

You blinked out of your thoughts, glancing at him. “Nowhere.”

He raised a brow, giving you a look.

You exhaled a soft laugh. “Okay… not nowhere.”

He waited, eyes patient, a quiet comfort in the dark.

“I was just thinking,” you said, your voice low, barely more than a whisper. “How fast everything changed. How we went from being strangers in the hallway to…” You trailed off, gesturing softly between you and him.

“To this,” he said.

You nodded. “And how it doesn’t feel scary. I thought it would. But it doesn’t.”

He smiled, eyes still on you. “I thought it would too. I tried really hard to keep things from going too far, honestly.”

You gave a playful scoff. “Wow. Thanks.”

He laughed quietly. “I mean because I was scared. Because I thought maybe it was too much to hope for. That someone could just… walk into our lives and fit so perfectly. Be exactly what I didn’t know I needed.”

“I still get scared,” he admitted. “But every time you’re here, or she reaches for you, or you say her name like it’s the most beautiful thing in the world… I stop doubting for a little bit.”

You shifted closer, pressing your forehead to his. “Then I’ll just have to keep doing all of that. So you don’t forget.”

His hand found yours under the blanket, fingers curling around yours gently.

“Okay,” he said, voice low. “Deal.”

He never said it outright again after the first time, “I love you”, but he didn’t need to. 

It lived in every small thing he did. In the way he made your tea just the way you liked. In the way he gave you the first bite of everything. In how he never missed a chance to touch you — hand on your back, brushing your fingers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

And you — you loved them back so fiercely it scared you sometimes.

“She’s so loved,” you whispered

“She is,” he said, almost like a vow.

You looked at him — this man who had doubted everything once, wondered if he could be a good father, a good partner, someone worth staying for. Now he says things like vows he'll keep for the rest of his life.

“I was so scared,” he murmured, voice low. “That I’d mess her up. That I’d never get it right.”

You reached for his hand. “You did everything right, Cheol. Everything.”

A long pause.

Then, softly, with a small laugh in his voice, he asked, “So… same time next year for birthday number two?”

You smiled, leaned up to kiss him — gentle, reassuring. “Already thinking what theme we should do next”

Right here, right now he doesn't even remember all those who left, everything he once lost. Now, all he can think of is what he has, wha he gained ever since he met you.

Wrapped in each other, the past behind and the future so very close, it felt like the beginning of everything good. Of everything true.

[wendichester]

☾⋆⁺₊✧ spellbound,

summary. dean can't do this one on his own; and he's honestly kinda glad about it.

pairing. dean winchester x witch!reader

wordcount. 676

Dean Winchester does not like witches. That much is obvious from the second he steps foot into your shop, all stiff shoulders and narrowed eyes, like he’s expecting you to start throwing hex bags at him the moment he looks away.

"You’re the one who called me," you remind him, amused.

Dean exhales sharply, glancing around like he’d rather be anywhere else. "Yeah, well. Desperate times."

That’s putting it lightly. There’s a spirit out in Wichita that won’t go down no matter how much salt, iron, or holy water gets thrown at it. It’s old, angry, and playing by a different set of rules. Rules that, conveniently, you happen to understand.

But Dean doesn’t trust you. Not yet.

"Relax, Winchester," you murmur, moving past him to grab the necessary ingredients. "I’m not gonna turn you into a toad."

Dean mutters something under his breath, probably about how he still doesn’t like this, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker over you when he thinks you’re not looking. The distrust is still there, but so is something else—something reluctant, something curious.

You don’t have time to unpack it. Not yet.

Instead, you gather the herbs, trace the right sigils, and let the power hum through your fingertips. You feel Dean watching, his skepticism giving way to something quieter.

"You’re good at this," he admits after a beat.

You smirk. "Did you think I was lying about being a witch?"

Dean shifts his weight. "Nah. Just… didn’t expect you to be useful."

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you set up the final part of the ritual. "Charming."

The ritual itself is messy and drawn out, but it works. The spirit howls as it’s ripped from the physical plane, leaving behind nothing but silence and the faint scent of burned sage. You lower your hands, feeling the energy settle, and turn to find Dean still watching you.

Something is different now.

He steps closer, close enough that you can smell the leather and gunpowder clinging to him. "So," he says slowly, "I guess I owe you one."

You tilt your head. "Is that your way of saying thank you?"

Dean huffs a breath, lips twitching. "Something like that."

There’s a beat of silence, thick with something unspoken. Then—

He’s kissing you.

It’s not careful. It’s not hesitant. It’s everything Dean Winchester is—intense, unapologetic, burning-hot and all-consuming. His hands find your waist, gripping just tight enough to make you shiver, and when you press closer, he groans against your mouth like he’s been waiting for this longer than he’d ever admit.

But the night isn’t over.

The motel is barely five minutes away, and somehow, that’s still too long. Dean has you pressed against the side of his car the second the door swings shut, his hands sliding beneath your coat, his lips moving down the side of your throat like he’s starving.

"Thought you didn’t trust witches," you breathe, fingers twisting into the fabric of his jacket.

Dean lets out a rough chuckle, dragging his teeth over your pulse point just to feel the way you shiver. "You might be the exception."

And God, he means it. He doesn’t know when the switch flipped, when suspicion turned into something heavier, something deeper. But right now, he doesn’t care.

All that matters is this—your body warm against his, your fingers threading into his hair, your breath hitching when he bites down just enough to make you gasp.

"Inside," you whisper, voice unsteady. "Now."

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice.

He practically kicks the door open, and the second you’re inside, he has you pinned against it, mouth claiming yours like he has something to prove. Maybe he does. Maybe he’s proving to himself that this isn’t a mistake, that wanting you doesn’t make him weak.

Because he does want you. More than he should.

And when you pull him onto the bed, hands tugging at his shirt, he realizes something else—

He doesn’t care if this is a mistake. He’s making it anyway.

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[cowgirlvi]

mdni. sub-bottom abby. fem-top reader. cunnilingus. semi public sex. short drabble.

imagining the immense amount of relief you felt when abby first told you that she and owen broke up. owen was never the right fit for her—you knew it from the start. he’s a nice enough guy, you suppose, but the way he followed around mel like a lost puppy made you wary of him. how could he chase after another woman when he already had a girlfriend of abby’s caliber; intelligent, compassionate, and undeniably strong.

unsurprisingly, abby’s devastated but she tries to hide it from you—from everyone. she throws herself into work, picking up extra shifts, exhausting herself at the gym, eating meager meals in her room, and then she goes to bed before repeating it all again the next day.

owen flaunting his new relationship with mel certainly doesn’t help the situation. if anything, it grinds salt into an open wound. 

and yet, abby is polite to them—because of course she is, no matter how many times you tell her they don’t deserve her kindness. and you watch her closely, noticing the way her usual spark has dimmed. she smiles when expected, nods along to conversations, but there’s a new hollowness behind her eyes—different from when she lost her dad.

you’d say you know abby pretty well by now and you understand exactly what she needs.

which is how the two of you end up in the woods during patrol, the scent of damp earth mixing with her own woodsy body wash. abby is bent over on her knees, forearms pressed into the dirt. her cargo pants are pulled down over her the curve of her ass, muscles taut with anticipation. 

the world around you two is quiet, save for the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of nature, and abby’s shaky breaths as you press open-mouthed kisses all over her lower back and ass. you can taste the salt of her skin, feel the way she shivers against your lips.

her thighs are littered with faint freckles, delicate constellations dotting her skin. they’re even between her legs, decorating her pussy lips. you make a point to trace each one with the tip of your tongue, savoring the way she trembles under your touch.

your hands knead the firm globes of her ass, squeezing, spreading, revealing the glistening pink of her cunt. her pussy is so cute, it smells so good—pungent and salty—and you want to fuck your tongue inside her entirely, to devour her sex until she cries.

you drag your tongue along her slit, slow and deliberate, from the swollen peak of her clit to her tight, fluttering entrance. you feel her body jerk and tense, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat as you taste her, and you know she’s trying so hard to stay still, to be a good girl and act like she’s not desperate for you to play with her cunt.

“bet your pussy wasn’t getting much attention before this, huh?” you say, raspy—and a choked moan is all she can manage in response.

you trace a maddeningly slow circle around her hole before pressing your tongue inside to get a taste, to drink her sweet pussy nectar like wine. using both your thumbs, you spread abby’s cunt wider, exposing more of that slick, needy heat. fucking your tongue inside her as deep as you can reach, you drink her in like she’s something holy, with your nose swallowed up between her thick asscheeks.

she’s always wound so tight; coiled like a spring, ready to snap. but now, beneath your hands, against your mouth, she’s soft. pliable. yours—all because your tongue is stuffed inside her needy cunt.

”mmph—oh fuck, please—unghh!”

her muscular thighs quiver, hips bucking back instinctively to seek out more, and you give it to her, digging your tongue deeper inside her gummy walls, licking her like a lollipop. you moan at the tangy, saline taste of her arousal, savoring the way her body responds to you. her pussy is so immensely wet that you gulp her juices down like water from a fountain.

”that’s it, babe. ride my tongue, just like that,” you murmur and then slurppp against her sopping wet pussy noisily.

you move one of your hands to her clit, playing with the sensitive nub, flicking your index finger against it in rapid, staccato strokes. you can feel abby’s arousal building, her body tensing, panting harsh and ragged like a dog.

”shiiiit, i’m gonna—gonna come! ohh, hnghhff—“

you hum against her, pleased, and continue worshipping her cunt—tongue-fucking her, teasing her, playing with her cute clit, pulling her apart until she’s nothing but a shaking, desperate mess beneath you.

until she finally lets go.

a sharp, broken cry rips from her throat as her body seizes, her thighs squeezing around your hand as she comes undone—hole clenching and fluttering around your tongue. she’s shaking so hard that she nearly collapses, her entire body wracked with pleasure and electricity as you work her through it—licking and sucking until she’s gasping, whimpering like a bitch, too sensitive to take it anymore.

you pull back, savoring the aftertaste of her arousal, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of her thighs. your hands smooth over her hips as she catches her breath, and for the first time in weeks, the tension has melted from her body, her shoulders loose.

and when she finally turns to look at you, eyes still heavy-lidded with pleasure, you see something else there too.

something softer.

something like gratitude.

taglist; @marvelwomenarehot0, @marieeeluvsyou, @mxchi-mxxn, @el-amor-que-tu-quieres, @jinxvex, @mwahbabe, @teddybearbutch28, @stupendousbananasharkcop, @nahcala, @ellieslob, @idontwannabehereatm, @rhian88, @kyur1jinx, @vivispace, @girlbeatings, @thatgrlnany, @blackdykegirlblogger, @imfckngfantastic

(2/15/25)

happy belated valentine’s day!! <3

[munsonsmixtapes]

If You Obey, I Might Give You a Treat

Billy Hargrove x Hopper!reader

You try to get over Billy only to end back in his arms

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (f receiving) Jim threatens Billy with a gun, hurt/comfort

special thanks to @the-witty-pen-name for helping me with this!

This series is being discontinued but you are still more than welcome to keep reading!

part one part two

 As you wake up the next morning, you feel refreshed, a weight lifted from your shoulders as your finally kicking Billy and any thoughts about him to the curb. This is your summer and you only have a few more weeks to soak up the Hawkins sun before you have to be back at school. you don’t have any more time to waste on stupid boys. This is your time. 

You put on your best swimsuit, a tiny little yellow thing that Robin and Nancy convinced you to buy at the mall. You stare at yourself in the mirror and just know that Billy will be drooling at the sight of you. You want to show him exactly what he’s missing, what a huge mistake he’s made by not contacting you again. 

Once you’re dressed, you throw on your cover up and head out the door with a newfound confidence. You don’t know why you care so much or why you’re so hellbent on getting Billy’s attention when you don’t even want it anymore. More than anything, you’re just hurt. You’re hurt that he didn’t call you when he seemed to be having a good time. You know he’s a hit it and quit it kind of guy, but you thought that maybe sex with you would be different. That you’d somehow be able to tame the wild beast, but you guess not, 

Billy finally goes back to work, but only because he’s hoping you’ll be there and that you’ll be able to talk. He wants to offer up another go around, but this time at his place when he’s sure that no one will be home. Not only does he want to return the favor for making him feel so good, but he also just wants to hang out with you. He’s only spent time with you once and he sort of, kind of…misses you?

He’d never actually admit that to anyone but himself, but acknowledging it does make him feel a lot better. There’s a weird feeling in his stomach, almost like a fluttering. Holy shit, does he have butterflies? Why does just the thought of potentially seeing you make him all nervous and excited? He usually makes fun of guys who act like this, but you’ve gone and fucked with his head and he hates that. He hates that you’ve consumed every single thought of his since that night in the pool. You’ve gone and made him a fucking pussy and he wonders if you know just how wrapped around your finger he is. 

The pool is crowded when you get there and you think that all of the chairs are taken until you see someone waving you over. It’s Max and El is right next to her, the two of them trying to get your attention with bright smiles on their faces. At least someone wants to see you. 

You wave back before making a beeline for them. Max moves over next to El so you can have your own chair and you set your bag down onto it, pulling out your sunscreen before squeezing some into your hand. Once you’ve got enough, you go to hand the bottle to El, but she’s already applying some to her arm while Max works on her face, the two of them giggling about the whole thing. 

Your heart warms at the sight and you really wish you had your camera to capture the adorable moment. You’re so glad she has someone who's comfortable enough to be herself around. She’s not a normal kid so making friends is even harder for her. She doesn’t always know the proper social cues and can be even more awkward than other kids her age because of it. But Max loves her for who she is and you can see that so clearly. She embraces her and encourages her to be her own person. 

The three of you put on your sunscreen and once theirs is dry, they’re quick to dive straight into the water. Not you, though. You want to be able to give Billy a good show as soon as he arrives. You put your sunglasses on and climb to a new level of unbothered as you read your book, counting down the minutes until it’s time for the shift change. 

He strolls in from the back room and you slowly get up from your seat. You make sure he’s got his eye on your as you take off your cover up to reveal your swimsuit. Out of the corner of your eye, you can practically see him drooling. He’s got a laser focus on you, almost as if he’s a tiger and you’re a baby deer he wants to devour. 

You look perfect, he thinks. It’s like you walked straight out of one of his wet dreams. He wants to take you in the back right now and tear that thing to shreds with his teeth until you’re absolutely naked. And then he wants to go to town against his locker until you’re crying on his cock, moaning his name over and over.

He makes a beeline for you, every step having its purpose. He’s by your side in a flash, plastering on that signature Billy smile that actually makes you feel nothing. His chest presses against your shoulder as he pushes some hair behind it, his lips right by your ear as his hand presses against your lower back. 

“Where have you been, baby?” He asks as he twirls some of your hair around his finger in a flirty manner. You stay strong, stay staring forward, watching your sister and her friend play in the pool, acting like his breath on your skin didn’t cause goosebumps to form on your arm. 

“Busy,” you reply. One word answers make conversation hard, not that Billy is a many of many words anyway. 

“I’ve been trying to reach you.” He’s standing in front of you now so that you’ll look at him, but it’s like he’s not even there.

“Oh, really?” You ask, trying to sound unbothered when what you actually want to do is push him into the pool. 

“Really,” he nods. “Listen-” Just as he’s about to come right out with it, a voice overlaps his. You lean to the side and see Max and El waving you over again, trying to get your attention. 

“This was a really nice chat, Bobby, but I’ve gotta go.” Before he can even register what’s happened, you dive into the pool, not even giving him a second glance. 

“It’s Billy,” he mutters to himself before heading over to his chair. He continues to mutter to himself as he climbs the ladder. That’s the last time he tries to put himself out there. He’s never been this offended by someone blowing him off before. If a girl isn’t interested, he’ll just move onto the next. “Plenty of fish in the sea” or however the fuck that saying goes.

He watches you swimming around with his sister and seeing the two of you laughing does something weird to his stomach. He almost likes what he’s seeing, likes that someone is being nice to her. She hasn’t had many friends since moving to Hawkins so seeing her having so much fun with you and your sister almost makes him feel happy for her. 

Billy knows he fucked up and doesn’t know how to make it up to you. He just wants everything to be okay again. He hates that you were giving him the cold shoulder, almost acting like he didn’t even exist. Fighting with you was fun, but this, this hurts. You’re so upset that you didn’t even bother to look at him nor actually answer his question. He knows that if he actually wants to make it up to you, he’s gonna have to ask for some advice. 

You don’t acknowledge Billy the rest of the day, not even so much as sparing him a second glance. It’s like he might as well not even be there. It’s not like he’s doing his job anyway. He’s reading another book, well, trying to. You’re always in his line of sight and it’s driving him crazy.

He doesn’t even know why you’re so mad at him. He swears this happens with every girl, but he thought you were different. He didn’t actually think you’d be upset with him if he didn’t call. He did try to come see you in person but how was he supposed to know that you weren’t at home?  He would apologize, but that’s not his thing. And besides, you’ll be crawling back to him any minute so he doesn’t see why he needs to. They always come crawling back. 

He calls for adult swim then descends his ladder, on the hunt for his next hook up, but all he can think about is you. He turns to head to the back and sees you and the other girls packing up your stuff. You make eye contact for a brief second then quickly turn away, not wanting to give him any ideas. You sling your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel, leaving the pool and Billy behind. 

-

It seems that your plan worked far better than you could have imagined. He seemed so dejected, just the way you hoped. But a part of you feels bad for being so rude to him. He was just trying to make conversation and you completely blew him off. 

But isn’t that what you wanted? For him to feel the way you did? To be hurt just like you were? So why do you feel so guilty? Why did seeing that pained look on his face feel like a stab to the gut? 

You wipe your thoughts away as you go up the steps to your house, seeing that you beat Jim home. El and Max follow you, giggling about something that you were too in your head to hear. 

You unlock the door and the three of you head inside. The girls go to El’s room while you make a beeline for the shower, wanting to wash the pool water and the chlorine smell off of you. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror as you strip down, wondering what’s wrong with you. They never stay so you have to be the problem, right? You have to have unknowingly done something every time to never get a second date or even so much as a phone call. It doesn’t just happen with the Hawkins boys, but also with the ones at school, so you have to be the problem. 

You always seem to be the one before ”the one.” The one who guys date right before who they’ve found who they’re going to be with forever. And you don’t know why you can’t get someone to stick. 

And maybe that’s why Billy’s rejection hurt so badly. Because you thought you had a shot. But clearly there was some miscommunication so now you’re in pain because you were stupid enough to think that Billy Hargrove would want to be your boyfriend.  

After your shower, you decide that you feel better but not by much. The pained look on Billy’s face stays in your mind and you can’t seem to shake it. You don’t know why you feel so guilty. He deserved that. He’s hurt so many women and you were just giving him a taste of his own medicine. 

Billy deserves to be knocked down a few pegs and you’re sure many others would agree with that. So why are you wondering if he’s okay, staring at the phone that’s on your desk, debating to call and check in. 

You shake your head and get dressed before heading out the door again to go meet Steve and Robin. You really need to hang out with someone so you don't do something stupid. If you stay home, you’ll just do something you shouldn’t and with your friends around, you’re sure to be distracted. 

-

Billy’s standing in front of the door again. He wants to knock, but knows he shouldn’t. He should really go home and stop being such a bother. He swears that he’s going to end up in the hospital if he’s seen there again. 

But of course, his hand betrays him and he knocks, a pit in his stomach as he waits for someone to answer. And of course, just his luck, it’s Jim again. He opens the door wide and gestures for Billy to step inside. 

“Let’s have a chat,” he says and Billy hesitantly heads inside the house, the door slamming behind him. Holy shit, is this where he’s gonna die? 

Jim pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for Billy and he silently takes a seat. He’s not really scared of anything, but there’s something about Jim Hopper that’s so terrifying to him. 

“Whiskey?” Jim asks and as much as Billy  would love some to ease his anxiety, he can’t help but feel like this is a test. 

“Oh, no thank you,” he declines, then watches Jim pour some for himself before grabbing his shotgun. He then heads over to the table and sits down, resting the gun against his thigh as he nonchalantly sips on his beverage. 

“So why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here. I mean, I have a guess, but I want to hear you say it so there’s no confusion. You’re here for y/n, aren’t you?” 

Billy gulps, feeling his mouth drying up as he stares at the gun. So he really is going to die. He supposes if anyone was going to do it, it would be Jim as he’s made his dislike for the man very clear. 

“Yes sir,” Billy nods, scooting his chair back, jumping when Jim’s foot hooks around one of the legs, preventing Billy from moving. 

“As you know,” he takes a long pull from his whiskey tumbler. “My daughters are very important to me. I’m very protective. So when they start seeing someone that I don’t approve of, I get even more protective.” 

Jim rests his hand on the gun and pats it as he takes another sip of his whiskey. As Billy watches the man across from him, he’s writing out his own eulogy because there’s no way he’s making it out of here alive. 

“So just know that if you hurt my little girl,” he raises the gun, pressing it against Billy’s forehead. “Right through your head.” Billy’s eyes widen and the room is now so quiet that he’s sure that Jim can hear him gulp. 

And just when he’s sure that the trigger is going to be pulled and he flinches, shutting his eyes tight. He feels the pressure go away and hears Jim’s loud laughter. 

His eyes shoot open and he’s met with Jim cackling. He’s pointing and laughing at Billy until he lets out a deep sigh. Bill doesn’t know what’s going on, but he’s terrified, like he woke up in a nightmare. 

“I’m just fucking with you,” he says once he sobers up, but Billy’s not so sure that’s true. It seemed like an actual threat rather than a joke like Jim was claiming. 

Billy just stares at him, eyes wide. Jim takes another sip from his tumbler, staring at Billy from over the rim. He doesn’t like the kid, that much is obvious, but if you like him then there must be some sort of good qualities about him that he can’t see. 

He knows all about Billy’s reputation and doesn’t understand why you would even want to spend time with him. He knows that he’s known to sleep around and he swears that if Billy tries something with you, he’s going to commit murder. 

You’re an adult now and he knows that, but he still wants to do what he can to protect you. Maybe he’s being too strict but it’s for your own good. He just wants you to stay his little girl forever. 

“Can I go now?” Billy asks, now desperate to leave. He wants to get the hell out of there and never come back as long as Jim’s car is in the driveway. 

“Sure,” Jim nods. “I think our talk has been pretty productive, don’t you?” Billy just nods then stands up to leave. “Hey,” Jim calls out as Billy’s halfway to the door. 

“Yeah?” 

“You should come to dinner sometime next week. I can get to know you better and y/n would love it.” Billy doesn’t think that’s such a good idea, especially since you seem to want absolutely nothing to do with him. “So don’t plan anything for Friday night.” 

All Billy can do is not before booking it out the door and to his car. Jim heads to the open front door and lets out a chuckle as the kid speeds away in fear. 

-

“You know what, good for you,” Steve tells you as he’s sprawled out on your bed. He sits up and looks you in the eyes, his face softening. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine, perfect, actually.” That’s a lie and both of you know it. You’re much more upset about the whole thing you’ll let on, but you can’t exactly tell him the truth, that you fell for Billy’s bullshit despite Steve’s warnings. You know Steve would be nothing but sympathetic, but you really aren’t in the mood for a potential “I told you so” moment. That would make you feel way worse than you already do.

You’re in front of your full length mirror, wearing a dress you’ve just bought at the mall where you met Steve. It’s short and black and you bought it despite it being like nothing you’d normally wear. But that’s the point. You’re tired of being who everyone wants you to be. You want to experiment with new clothing and makeup and wish the people around you would stop thinking that you’re more innocent than you actually are just because of who your father is.

“You look great,” Steve tells you, his eyes raking over your body. 

“Thank you,” you reply as you turn to him, smoothing out your dress just as the phone rings. 

-

Billy’s pacing back and forth in the kitchen where the phone hangs on the wall. He reluctantly asked Max for your home number and he’s been hyping himself up to actually dial it for the past five minutes. Max is standing next to him, her arms crossed over her chest as if to say that she’s not impressed. 

She’s never seen Billy like this. He’s called girls more times than he can count and he’s never been nervous about it. This just goes to show just how much her brother likes you. She lets out an annoyed sigh then picks up the phone and dials your number that she now knows by heart. As soon as it begins to ring, she hands it to him then heads back to her room. 

Your phone rings on your desk and you assume that it’s just Jim calling to tell you that he’ll be home late so you let Steve answer it. He stands from the bed and reaches for the phone, putting it up to his ear. 

“Hopper residence, Steve speaking,” he answers and you roll your eyes at how corny he sounds. “Hello?” He asks when no one responds. “Hello?” When there’s still no answer, he just hangs up with a shrug. “Must have been a wrong number.”

Billy slams the phone on the receiver and as his blood begins to boil, he reaches for his car keys and makes a beeline for the door. He doesn’t know why he’s so angry that Steve answered your phone. The two of you are friends and have been for a long time. So why is he seeing red over the fact that Steve is over at your house? He doesn’t know, but he’s planning on kicking his ass. 

He’s driving faster than he should, his anger taking over how fast he’s driving. He’s almost flooring it as he turns out of his neighborhood, turning up the tape he’s got playing as loud as it will go. He’s not even thinking about what he’s doing, he just needs to make sure that there’s absolutely nothing going on between you and Harrington.

As soon as he pulls up, he doesn’t even bother to turn the car off or close the door as he hurries up the porch and pounds his fist on the door. You open it in a flash and let out a gasp at the sight of Billy. He’s smoking a cigarette, those damn short shorts hugging his waist and you try to keep your eyes on his face. He shoves his way inside and looks around your house like a madman for your friend. He’s officially gone crazy but he doesn’t even care.

“Where is he?” He spits and you look more confused than angry that he barged into your house without so much as hello. 

“Where’s who?” You ask, genuinely confused as to what’s going on here.

“Harrington.” He says the name in a mocking tone and now you see what all of this is about. He’s jealous. 

“Billy, Steve left. Now if you’ll excuse me-” You’re trying to kick him out, but he’s not leaving so easily. 

He can’t go now when he’s come all of his way, and especially not when you’re wearing that dress. What he would give to have that thing laying over the back of the couch while he fucks you senseless. He’s gotta have you out of it right now. 

He thinks about what he’s going to do for maybe two seconds and before he can stop himself, he’s grabbing you by the waist and pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss. The whole thing makes you dizzy and you can’t even deny him because you’ve wanted this for so long. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against your lips and you can tell that he’s being genuine. He even pulls away to look you in the eye, saying the words again to prove that he really means them. 

He did hurt you, but getting a genuine apology from Billy of all people means the world to you. You love seeing this soft side of him. The side that he only seems to reserve for you. You have no idea how you bring it out of him, but you’re sure that this is the real him. The angry side is all just a facade he puts on to protect himself. 

He’s been hurt so many times throughout his life and he thinks that if he acts like he hates everyone, no one will want to come in. And if he doesn’t let people in, then they can’t leave. It just makes much more sense this way. 

But he wants to let you in. He wants to so badly that it hurts. He knows that you’re different and because of that, he’s learned to trust you. He’d trust you with his life, knowing that you’d protect him. And with that going through his mind, he’s diving in head first even though he’s absolutely terrified. But now he’s opening the door and letting you in. 

His lips find yours again and his tongue slides into your mouth as the kiss gets more heated. His hands slide down your back, grabbing hold of the backs of your legs, picking you up. He carries you to the couch and lies you down on it gently before placing himself on top of you. 

His kisses are searing, his tongue roaming around your mouth like he’s trying to taste every inch of it. This is easily the best make out you’ve ever had to the point where you could do this for the rest of the night and you’d be satisfied. 

Your bodies are a mess of limbs as your hands tangle into his hair as he kisses down to your neck. You feel yourself getting dizzy as his lips do their work. You’re already wet beyond belief and you wonder what his mouth would feel on your cunt. 

You’re desperate to ask him for it but feel shy suddenly. You’ve never actually had to ask for it, the other people you’ve been with have just known what you needed. He pushes up your dress as he sucks on your skin, making your mind feel fuzzy. The dress comes off and is thrown somewhere in the living room. You moan as his teeth bite down on you and he takes that as an invitation to continue as he does it again, harder this time before licking a stripe across it to diffuse the sting.

His lips kiss their way down your body as he pulls your underwear down, sucking on different spots to hear that pretty sound again as he makes his way to your cunt. Your legs are spread wide and Billy feels his mouth watering as he thinks about how badly he wants to eat you out. He’s never done it before because he’s always thought it was gross but he just knows that you’d teach him. 

“Do you want some help?” You chuckle as you sit up and he nods. 

“Please,” he whines. It’s so obvious how badly he wants to do it and you want to help out. 

“On your knees,” you snap and point to the floor in front of the couch. He’s quick to listen and gets down on his knees in front of you. He watches you turn and sit on the cushion in front of him, spreading your legs wide for him. “Now put my legs on your shoulders.” He does exactly what you say and once he’s done, he looks up at you for his next instructions. 

Your fingers thread into his hair again and you grab onto it, guiding his face down to your cunt. “Go for the clit first,” you instruct. “Do what feels comfortable. I trust you. And maybe if you’re good, I might return the favor.” Oh, he’s so up for that challenge.

Billy hesitantly presses a kiss to it, very unsure of what he’s supposed to do. He hears you saying something about his tongue so he flicks it across your clit and your pull onto his hair in response, a whine falling from your lips. He does that a few times then goes in with his lips, sucking on it which makes you whine even louder. 

Once he feels like your clit has gotten enough attention, he moves down to your slit, going straight in with his teeth. He can tell he’s doing it right as your heels dig into his back, your thighs pressing tight against his head. His hands move to rest on your thighs, his nails digging into your skin as he buries his face into your cunt as he continues to use his teeth like he’s done it a million times before. 

He continues his movements as you moan over and over, pulling on his hair as his name falls from your lips. Now that he’s gotten a little taste, he wants to eat you out any chance he gets. It makes him feel so different than penetrative sex does. This is a different way he can be in control and making you orgasm makes him feel better than any other woman has. 

You reach your orgasm, his name falling from your lips once again as he finishes up, trying to lick up every last bit of slick that he can. He then pulls away, resting your feet back down on the floor before sitting back on his heels, waiting for you to tell him that he did a good job. 

“Fuck,” you sigh then grab him by the chin, pressing a kiss to his lips, sticking your tongue into his mouth so you can taste yourself on him then pulling away. “You can do that anytime you want.” 

You stand up from the couch and throw on your dress before offering him your hand. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up and get you out of here before my dad and El get home.” And Billy follows you to the bathroom like a lost puppy, convinced that he’s falling in love with you.

taglist: @spookysace24 @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e

[gladiatorcunt]

Art seems like such a sub, like he’d be so down pathetic when he sits between your legs, back to your chest while you give him an hj. He whimpers while you whisper dirty things in his ear and shakes more with each pump OOH I NEED HOLY WATER 😭

he gives switch vibes with a sub lean for suuuuuuure 😮‍💨

cw: 18+ mdni, handjob, sub!art, set more in the college era, reader’s a switch too btw but art makes them feral, very loving tho, taking care of him after a tough practice, afab reader

“That’s it, just lie back on me. You must be feeling so sore.” You coo, caressing his biceps and getting into position on his bed.

You recline against the wall and open your legs. Art can’t hide the way his eyes light up as he eases onto the bed and swiftly turns around, resting his back against your chest with a soft sigh. You pick up on the groan he attempts to stifle in his palm, knowing how his muscles be absolutely aching right now.

It’s a big deal for you to show that you support him by showing up to his games and practices, so that’s what you doing earlier. You’ve always admired his determination when it comes to tennis, so you don’t mention that losing a college game isn’t the end of the world. Still, you won’t deprive yourself of the eye candy that comes in the form of your boyfriend sweating and grunting as he practices his drills.

Once it was over, he bounded over to you with a tired grin and jokingly pushed your face away when you tried to kiss him. “Angel, i’m all gross now.” He’d laugh, and you’d shut him up by licking some of the sweat of his cheek.

“Did I do good today?” He asks and looks up at you with his big eyes.

You’ll never not be grateful that he seeks out your approval like a dog with a bone, because you’ve never been so proud of someone in your entire life.

“You always do the best, babe.”

Art blushes and tilts his head back onto your shoulder. And for a cliché moment time stand still, the sunset outside casts an orange glow over the room and the two of you. Your boyfriend looks beautiful like this, eyes shut in exhaustion and nestled in your arms.

But you have other plans for the evening than just admiring your boyfriend, there will be plenty of that later during pillow talk.

Art cracks his eyes to see your hands trail down his arms to end up at his crotch. He’s so relaxed that he doesn’t squirm as much as he usually does, but he turns his head to nuzzle your shoulder.

You soothingly murmur to him, “My boy worked so hard today, i think he deserves a reward, don’t you?”

“I want whatever you have to give me.” He genuinely smiles into your skin, shifting his hips to push up against you palming his bulge.

And it’s true, he’d throw his head back like a whore and moan unabashedly no matter if you were edging him with a vibrator of if you were gently grinding your fat ass against his dripping cock.

You teasingly squeeze his clothed bulge and then dip your fingers under the waistband of his white boxer briefs. Thank god for the fact that Art likes to strip down as he soon as he gets back to his room after practice.

“Lift your hips for me, baby boy.” You tell him with a nip to his earlobe.

He sighs again as he gives you the suitable free space to push his underwear down enough to free his cock. It’s so long and pretty, such a good size too. Flushed blush pink at the tip and veiny, your mouth waters but giving your boyfriend head is a reward for a different day.

Art whines when you get your hands on his bare cock, “You know ‘m sensitive, feels so good already.”

“But your tears are so pretty when you’re overstimulated.” You peck his temple and lean your head on top of his, curling your hand around the base of his dick and steadily beginning to pump him. “You should be happy to cum as much as you want, sweets.”

He whimpers and spreads his legs over yours. You hook your feet around his and keep them there.

Pearls of precum bead to the tip of his cock, making the slide easier. You grip him tighter and move your wrist in quick circles as you speed up your thrusting.

“Oh- F-fuck!” He keens, latching onto your hips and arching his back against you.

“Shh, if you can’t handle this how are you supposed to handle my pussy? It’s so much tighter than my hand, baby, you’ve felt how warm and wet it is.”

He cums embarraingly quick when he gets like this, all doped up on how you make him melt. It’s adorable and a huge ego boost, but he can only cum inside you so much before he’s out like a light.

Art gasps at the mention of his treat, and awkwardly twists his torso around to face you, “I can handle it, can i have it now? Please please please please.”

“I don’t know…” You hum, pretending to consider his begging.

You clasp your fingers around his leaking dick and thumb the tip, spreading the precum. You fuck his length with your fist and you’re going so fast, you’re making a ‘thwop! thwop! thwop!’ sound.

“I think I want you to cum just like this, love.”

Art keens as you furiously jack him off. You rile him up by whispering in his ear.

“Got me so hot watching you today. Seeing the sweat on your body when you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face, i wanted to ride you into the ground.”

Art gapes, trying to kick his legs out on reflex but your ankles over his keep him right where you want him. He screws his eyes shut tightly and moans in between his babbling.

“Unh- unh- ‘s so good, gonna cum, can i cum? Please say i can cum, ‘m gonna burst- FUCK!”

You don’t know who’s crying more, Art or his cock. He’s leaking so much that you had to concentrate or you’ll lose your grip.

You don’t let up until he’s heaving a strangled cry and shooting his hips up, spilling on and over your hand like a fountain. He gets so sloppy with it, fucking himself with your fist through the aftershocks.

“That’s it, such a big load for me. I bet you were aching holding all that in, baby.”

And he’s so gorgeous, mouth open wide and tugging on his hair in random intervals. You grab his face with your free head and rub your thumb over his cheek. You let him come down at his own pace, and when he focuses his pretty eyes back on you, you bring your sticky hand to his mouth.

Art cleans his own mess, maintaining eye contact with you. The fierce tomato red blush he’s sporting deepens. You wink at him and slurp up an equal amount of his cum, like a couple sharing a milkshake in an old fashion diner.

[kizzer55555]

How to Kidnap a Corpse

So here’s a DP x spn crossover idea I have. So basically, something happens and the Winchester brothers come across infinite realm ghosts. Vlad specifically (could be just him, could be others.) and they get separated. They try everything they can think of but none of their tricks work on Vlad. He treats the holy water like normal water, can cross salt lines, unbothered by the numerous chants they’ve tried or sigils they write, and any of their actual weapons such as guns, silver, iron, holy metal or other, even a good old fist to the face, just pass right through him. They have NEVER encountered a creature like this before. They don’t even know what it is. But whatever it is has a myriad of powers they’ve never seen before and is pretty much invincible. And then they get separated. (Maybe in the ghost zone, maybe in some random location. Maybe they were trapped in Walker’s ghost prison for being ‘illegal humans’ and Vlad is acting Warden or wants an object from them? Who knows?) So Sam is running from this…creature and Danny ends up seeing this happen and decides to help out when it appears Vlad might kill him. And Sam has no idea why a clearly supernatural creature is helping him, especially since he thinks they might be the same species?? But he keeps running. And then at some point Sam is cornered again and Danny takes a hit meant for the guy (maybe at first Danny was just tackling Vlad and Sam thought it was some kind of territorial thing and while it was supicious the second creature kept putting itself between Sam and the first creature, he chalked it up to a coincidence because there was no reason for it to help him) and a strike was about to hit Sam but Danny, after being thrown down in the opposite direction, very clearly throws himself between Sam and the hit, taking it himself. And tells Sam to run. This changes the tide of battle as before they were kinda even but now Danny is injured. So Sam runs while the second humanoid creature distracts the first (a little bitter because it appeared to be a kid) and then practically crashed into Dean. And they have the chance to get away but Sam stops him and explains about the other creature who saved him. Saying they couldn’t just leave him there. Besides, it looked like a kid. And Obviously Dean is ready to leave. (If they did have an object Vlad wanted, it was lost long ago in the fight and not worth their lives. But maybe they just interrupted his business and he didn’t want witnesses.) So Dean is convincing his brother to leave when they hear a noise and both immediately hide and then look out to see the first hostile creature dragging the unconscious form of the second creature away and the second creature is clearly injured. And looks like a kid. Maybe 15 years old.

And then a green portal opens up that gives off the most ominous presence, enough to make a shiver go down their spines, and the first creature is dragging the injured, young second creature through and so Dean says fine and gives in but makes it clear he’s only helping so they can figure out what the fudge those things are. So they get Danny away from Vlad. Maybe they shoot Vlad and it actually works because Vlad wasn’t expecting it and didn’t phase through it, or maybe they hit him right when the portal closed and it distracted him, maybe it’s just an outright smoke bomb kidnapping and they just bolt? But basically, they do something and now Vlad is gone and they have an unconscious, glowing, bleeding teenager. So they just kinda…manhandle the body into the Impala and really, they should not have as much experience manhandling unconscious, corpse like bodies into their car, but they do. So now they have an unconscious and injured unknown creature who is likely a child of the unknown species and Dean figures that at the very least, if they are helping him they‘ll figure a few things out so as they are trying to use medical supplies to fix up the scratches and burns and stop the oozing, glowing green substance flowing from the kids wounds that they think is his blood. Dean is also doing research on what the heck they just fought. As well as poking the unconscious teen with various things. Now that he isn’t phasing through them. Iron? No. Silver? No. Holy water? Nah, just passes right over the skin like normal water. Salt? Nah. What about fire? “Dean!”

“What?”

And so the experiments/impromptu surgery happens and it’s not like they can take the kid to a normal hospital so they go to see Bobby. And he just sees the two brothers awkwardly trying to drag a glowing body out of the Impala that is covered in amateur bandaging and leaking a green substance over everything. If this is a point in the series where Cas is present, he shows up later (likely was also separated from the brothers during the fight and then reunited with them at the car as they are running to it while carrying the unconscious Danny. Or maybe shows up at the car after the battle, sees them, and is like, what is that?) and Cas can’t even identify what Danny is. Not a demon. He doesn’t sense a malevolent presence from him. But not fully human either. Too strong. And a connection to death? (Did Vlad or anyone se mention they were ghosts and the Winchester’s just didn’t believe them/thought the creature was messing with him?) uuhhhh…I’m not sure if he’s breathing but the blood hasn’t stopped flowing. Ghost? Zombie?

“He’s too….alive to be a zombie.”

“He’s too alive to be a ghost!”

Cas says he’s closer to an angel than anything but something’s still off. And he doesn’t have any grace.

“Wouldn’t a graceless angel just be a human?”

So when Danny finally wakes up it’s going to be ✨interesting✨. But basically, Danny stays in Phantom form and the Winchesters have no idea he’s part human. Even if Danny does change to his human form, they just think it’s some kind of shapeshifting ability. (Does Danny tell them and they don’t believe him? Does he keep it secret? Does he think they already know/figure if they accept his ghost side there’s no need to hide the human part and just, not bother hiding it but they don’t pick up context clues?). So they now have a baby…thing…join them.

Is this a bad Fenton parents universe and Danny ran away? Nasty burger incident and Danny was running from Vlad? Is this Danny on ‘vacation’ with his Godafther and prefers spending time with the Winchesters Until he has to go home rather than the fruitloop? Does Danny just disappear because he was injured/saved and his parents just haven’t realised it yet? Is Danny jumping between the Winchesters and Amity? Who knows!

[shuenkio]

㊚ — 𝕳𝖆𝖏𝖎𝖒𝖆 | 성훈

Parring : Sunghoon X M!reader

Synopsis : With this brat attitude of yours he needs to discipline you, backbeing his good boy.

Genre : Smut. Cw : cursing, creampie, mlm, dirty talk etc

Non proof read English is not my first.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

These past few days, Sunghoon has caught his boyfriend acting out of control lately, the fact that he made it worse for him to read, to understand him, even though you were already that stoic or should we be called tsundere. The taller ones never get angry easily but you just know how to press his right button harder and harder, till he couldn't bear it any longer, the consequences will never be good.

Once you were finally home from your task, Sunghoon was already there, folding his arms together while he was still in his slumber robe. You greet him lazily, not a single word comes out of your mouth, before walking past him and go fresh up by taking a water bottle in the fridge, gulping down your throat.

Sunghoon grits his teeth, jaw tighten however he needs to remain calm, a chance can still make his boyfriend change from this unusual attitude.

"Where have you been without opening your phone and texting your boyfriend hm? Are you fucking single?" Sunghoon's fire up, started the conversation with his bit of irritated.

You shrugged, did not give a damn to answer his question fully, honestly.

"you know me well, why should I tell you. I have to pick up groceries today" message your eyes with a roll, you unload all of the stuff and put it in place, under Sunghoon's pierce eagle eye with a burning flame about to burst. Yet Sunghoon knows too well about his lover, the answer that spits out of your lip, are not 100 the truths, because of your smell of alcohol.

The atmosphere remains dead silent, before it was broken by the sudden chuckle of Sunghoon. The burning flame started to rise from 100 to 1000, not only you're lying with something else, the matter of fact that this attitude of yours needs to be disciplined by him, until you're right again.

While minding your own business, Sunghoon's taller frame shadow hover you, his cold and calm presence that you always sense fade away, replaced by the heat and warmth that send a chill down to your spine.

"we need to fix this attitude of yours M/n, you've been a bad boy these days that driving me insane, I think I should fuck the brain out of you until you can't walk for a week, to know what's wrong with you, Isn't that right to you?" Sunghoon's warm breath brushing against your earlobe that causes goosebumps through your skin. Whispering a warning that you know you're fuck up already, there's no turning back or apologize.

///-///

Yours and his clothes are scattered on the floor, not even a single fabric to cover. With both of your wrists being hostage by Sunghoon's single massive palm, that left a red print on yours. Not to mention, your body is fully naked to his sight, exposing everything off. Your smaller length is hard rocking but didn't make your boyfriend impressed yet instead you catch him laughing.

"Oh puppy, fucking look at your dick and mine can you tell the difference? Holy shit" He said in a low roughly tone, smirked at the corner of his lip, a mischievous grin spread across his face as he enjoys the compared, size difference between you and him. Your smaller frame is the obvious answer. Sunghoon's cock alone is almost as big as your forearm that is hard throbbing flesh, twitching at the dirty words he had said out himself. A bead of precum already glistened at the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip, a testament to his heightened arousal.

You open your mouth to speak but none coming out, Sunghoon's fire aura is dangerously at the moment, if something slips out of your mouth mistakenly, surely he will be determined to make you can't walk for real.

Without any hesitation, the taller frame did not care to grab any lube, he paused to savor your beautiful body, the curve, the leaking of your dick, and the twitching arching hole of yours, for a split minutes as he slowly stroking his enormous length ready to breaking you into two.

The steady breathing was replaced by sharp hiss of pleasure, once he finally thrust in balls deep of his inhuman cock size into the hilt of your hole, driving the thick head of his cock past your tight rim in one hard, brutal stroke. The scorching heat and impossible tightness engulfed him like a vice as he hilted himself fully inside his lover, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, making you feel all of his cock.

"Hoy fuck M/n how can you be so tight than the last time I've fucked you ughh—" he roared, his eyes wild and feral as Sunghoon angled his hips to drive against that secret spot deep inside with every thrust, knowing he'd found it when you let out a choked cry, your body clenching down around him like a silken, scorching glove.

"Y'know what? Your behavior is unacceptable these past few days AHH— FUCK you dare to ignore me, shut me down, and act like an independent idiot! now you have the balls to lying to me? — Who tf went to groceries and come back, smelling like a fucking drunk person??" Sunghoon poured all his bottle emotion that was caused by you, by slamming his pelvic between your buttocks, relentlessly, harder than animals, as he determined to make you feel numb in the legs, to be filled until you pump full of his cum, that you'd be leaking for days and weeks, remember every inches of his veins throbbing gigantic cock, until you won't overdo your mistake again.

Knowing your wrong action, you can't help but cry in pain and pleasure, accept all of his punishment without pushing him away.

With another guttural, animalistic roar that seemed to shake the very walls of the room, he buried himself to the hilt one last time and exploded. As thick, tacky ropes of cum painted your inner walls. His cock jerked and pulsed as he emptied his heavy balls deep inside you for a whole minute straight without stopping, marking his territory, claiming his lover in the most primal way possible. With intense pleasure, Sunghoon's orgasm triggers click in you, as a tidal wave of cum, burst out, making you cum uncontrollably after him.

He breaks down on the top of you, both of them panting and trembling in the aftermath of their release. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses suddenly against your sweat-dampened skin as he fought to catch his breath. No one seems to care about the musky and sex scent that become the heavy smell in the room, yet only to fuel them even more turn on.

"All I want is good for both of us, and you. I never wanted to hurt you but you brought this to yourself. So don't do it again ok? I fucking crazy over you and you know damn well, be back as my m/n I used to know hm?" Sunghoon declares adoringly, holding you close as the last waves of his intense climax rolled through him.

"im--- sorry--- I'll be your good boy---sorry"

Funtalk : if I say I wrote this with 12 inches big of Sunghoon in mind, would you flinch? 🥰

An: anyway I'd love to hear comments from anyone, should I continue to be this frankly or meh? Or even worse (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ᴥ⁠ ͡⁠°) ? Your thoughts matter pookie ⬇️

Ctto pics & dividers.

[st7rnioioss]

✧˚୨୧˚ · . my pretty girl

matt x fem!reader warnings: kissing, fluff.

You dumped your bag on the table, slumping away from the door, kicking it shut with your leg. Matt looked up from his phone, sinking into the couch.

You groaned loudly. Right beside Matt was Trevor, cuddled up amongst all the pillows.

“Aww, hello handsome,” you said in a baby voice, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Matt smiled at you as you bent over Matt, petting and kissing Trevor. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Oh,” he says disappointed. You laughed at Matt as you realized he thought it was him you were calling handsome.

He laughed with you as you dumped down beside him.

“Hey, you're pretty handsome too,” you admitted, kissing his cheek which seemed to make him blush. The back of the couch hit your head as you threw it back, groaning again.

“How was work, pretty girl? Rough day?” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. Your arms wrapped around his waist, burying your face into his oversized hoodie.

“Yeah. Holy fuck, it can be so boring at times,” you complained, raising one hand to cup his cheek. You pulled him in for a gentle kiss. “I missed you today,” you smiled, and he returned the smile.

“I missed you too,” he chuckles, kissing you again, and playing with your hair.

You sighed deeply, wishing you could just stay like this forever.

“I need water,” you whispered after a moment, getting up to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. You noticed Matt staring at you from the couch.

“What's up?” you smiled, walking closer to the couch again.

“What? Can’t I admire my beautiful girlfriend?” he smiled a very cheesy smile.

“Oh, shut up,” you giggled, rolling your eyes playfully at him. Matt got up, walking towards you. You reach your arms out for him, hugging him tightly again.

“Do you want to cuddle, pleaseee,” Matt whispered on top of your head. You chuckled slightly. Matt always wanted to either cuddle or hug. But you didn’t complain about it.

“Of course. Let me just change first, this shit is tight as fuck,” you pulled away from the hug, taking off your shirt aggressively. 

Matt just laughed, peeking at you.

“Hey, nuh uh!” you giggle, covering yourself with the shirt you had just taken off.

“What! Again, I’m just admiring!” he smiled, throwing his hands up, shrugging.

✧˚ ·.

Matt's arms were wrapped around your shoulders, yours around his waist. You could hear his heart beat, his deep inhales and exhales following.

“I like this,” Matt whispered.

You look up at him, smiling. “Yeah. Me too,”

He bent a little over to be able to reach you, kissing your forehead, lips, cheeks and neck.

You giggled a bit as his kisses on your neck tickled a bit, pulling your head away, probably blushing. Matt giggled with you, squeezing your shoulders.

“You’re blushing,” he whispers, pinching your cheek gently. You didn’t respond, only a whine-laugh-ish sound was what came out, which made him laugh again.

✧˚ ·.

After Matt had suggested watching a movie, you had somehow ended up on his lap, your arms wrapped around him, your face in the crook of his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist.. Your eyes were closed, but you weren’t fully asleep. Just the feeling of Matt’s hands caressing your lower back, your breaths aligning made you feel so safe and comfortable. None of you said anything. Just pure silence, but it wasn’t awkward. At all actually. 

Here and there Matt would leave soft kisses down your neck and collarbone, and you’d return it. 

You pulled back, facing Matt.

“You’re so pretty,” you smiled at him, ear-to-ear smile. His cheeks flushed pink.

“That was.. pretty random?” he laughed, squinting his eyes.

You cupped his face. “Yeah. Just had to let you know,” you kissed him softly, playing with his hair.

“Mhh, you’re pretty too. My pretty girl,”

© st7rnioioss. all rights served. please do not repost, copy or steal any work of mine without giving credits and asking for permission first.

[farfromstrange]

Can I get a bouquet of peonies and roses with college! Matt discovering a love for silk?

Matt and silk in the same sentence were bound to have me get carried away. Thank you so much for your request, Shiori, and I hope it's close to what you were imagining!

Procrastination and Silk

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

Pairing: College!Matt Murdock x Reader

Request: A bouquet of... peonies and roses.

Warnings: Smut (18+), clothed oral (afab!receiving), silk kink (?), coming untouched, underwear ripping, matt is a horny college boy what can i say

WC: 759

The late afternoon sun streams through his dorm window, shining over your discarded criminal law textbook on the hardwood floor. You should be studying right now.

Emphasis on should.

His lips move against yours, a delicate dance he has expertly mastered. His hand, although not yet entirely confident, runs over from your waist to your thigh, caressing the soft skin under the hem of your dress. A sigh slips past your lips into his open mouth, and he swallows the sound greedily. 

Every time you find yourself in this position—and you’ve been in it many, many times before—it’s like he’s touching you again for the first time, like he hasn’t memorized every inch of your beautiful body by now. 

“Can I…?” Matt nudges the fabric. He always acts so stoic, but without those black-rimmed glasses covering his eyes, you can see every twinge of uncertainty reflected in his hazel eyes. 

You cut him off, “Yes.”

He pulls the dress over your head swiftly, and then his lips are on yours again. His hand returns to its earlier journey, though when he brushes against the fabric of your panties, he stops. It feels different, a gentle caress of an angel’s hand, or water running through his fingers. And as it slides against your skin, slotting so perfectly against your curves, it speaks to him like a siren’s song. 

His heart starts racing. Sweat starts to build in his pores, and he suddenly pulls away.

You frown. “Matty, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s– What’re you wearing?” he asks, breathlessly so.

“Underwear,” you say.

He tilts his head, fingers brushing against your underwear again—from your panties to your bra. “Feels different.”

“It’s silk. Why?” You find his hazel eyes. “Do you not like it?”

Matt shakes his head. “No, I–” God, his brain is refusing to catch up. 

“It’s okay, I can take it off.”

He grabs a hold of your wrist. “No,” he says, “don’t!”

“What?”

Matt growls in the back of his throat. “It’s so soft. Don’t…” 

You try to voice your confusion, but he buries his face against the silk covering your breasts, and the only sound that comes out of you is a strangled moan. He rubs his cheek, his nose, his fucking lips against the tender flesh. 

His tongue darts out to circle your nipple. He wants to get closer. He wants to drown in you; he wants that silk to open up and swallow him so he can feel like this forever. Your heart races under his touch. He can taste your arousal in the air, how your wet pussy clenches around nothing, wishing you were wrapped around his cock, and it takes everything in him not to come in his jeans.

Matt trails kisses down your stomach—wet, needy kisses—until he reaches your panties. Silk, silk all over. A million volts of electricity shoot through his veins, bringing his blood to a boil. He wants you to never take it off. 

You throw your head back with an obscene cry of his name when he buries his head between your legs, spreading them open like he never does anything else and licking the expanse of the fabric covering your cunt. No amount of fabric could ever stop his mouth from working the filthiest magic on you. He is a devoted Catholic, after all; the act of worshipping what he deems most holy runs in his blood. 

He sucks and licks at your pussy, fingers splaying over your breasts. So soft, he thinks. So wet and soft, and all-consuming. 

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “Oh God, don’t stop!”

He doesn’t. Matt grabs a hold of the waistband and pulls, hard. The silk slides through your folds, his tongue finally colliding with your aching clit. His bare face is slick with the essence of you, but he only dives deeper. He devours you. The wave keeps building and building and building, and—

Your new underwear tears clean through just as your orgasm crashes in. It hits you with the force of a meteoroid, forcing you to trap his head between your quivering thighs. He loses control of everything that was keeping him from falling apart, and he, too, comes with a moan against your pussy. For a moment, the world seems to disappear. There’s just you and him and that godforsaken underwear you are so glad you decided to wear today. 

And the next time you come to visit him, Matt’s bed is covered in a set of silk sheets and on top of them, a new pair of underwear—silk underwear. 

[tacobacoyeet]

please pretty please tell us all about those terrible things you think about when goon to Josh and his hairy bush. p l ez. you thoughts are safe with us.

hairy!patrick zweig x reader

tw smut!!! i love overcomplicating things so i couldn't just answer the ask outright sorry anon! although i probably should've because not only is this so gross and not at all proofread it's also super self-indulgent lol

----

- the sun is already starting to set by the time patrick is slamming the door to your shared place

- he’s been out on the tennis courts since the early morning, practicing for an upcoming match

- he’s pissed. you’re not sure why, but you know him well enough to assume that he’s getting in his head, that his drills weren’t as easy as they usually are 

- “hey, baby,” you greet him as he enters, sliding some cold water over to him as he throws his bag down

- he’s still all sweaty and his muscles are so tense and his curly hair is flopping everywhere and even though he’s all mad all you can think about is that he’s so hot

- he generally opts to work out in tanks and muscle tees so right now while he’s stretching and reaching for the water you’re catching glimpses of his well-kept pit hair

- patrick’s always been a hairy guy, ever since he was a kid. puberty hit and not only did he shoot up but he was the first in his class to start sprouting a mustache and beard

- so he knows how to take care of his body hair and he also knows not to shave it all off- he’s not trying to give the same pre-pubescent vibes as his best friend, art

- anyway, you’re trying to focus on his voice as he rants animatedly about everything that went wrong today but it’s really hard to do that when you’re watching some lingering sweat bead down his forehead and down his face and neck 

-  and fantasizing about licking it up

- and his shirt is all damp and everything so he pulls it off and holy jesus fuck you’re gone

- like yes his abs are beautiful and he has gorgeous toned muscles and supple skin and that perfect slutty little waist but that is not your point of focus

- you’re looking at that stunning contrast of dark against light

- the light dusting of black hair against his white skin and the way it grows as it trails down and down and down

- the thick stripe of it that starts from his abs and trails beneath his low hanging shorts—god, why did he always have to wear them so low?

- and now you’re too lost in thought that you’re staring at him and he’s not even mad. 

- he’s snapping his fingers at you, laughing a little like “babe are you even listening?”

- and your eyes snap back up like “of course i am!” but the moment he starts talking again you’re daydreaming about letting his big hand hold the back of your head while he buries himself far enough down your throat for your nose to be buried in that bush

- he’s snorting at you because he knows you’re long gone at this point. “jeez, i thought i was the horny one. c’mere”

- and you don’t waste a second

- you start by kissing his lips all sloppy, but then you trail your mouth across his jaw, down his neck, his collarbone, licking up the taste of the salt on his skin

- he’s just watching you because he thinks you’re so perfect and he loves how absolutely obsessed with him you are

- he also loves having someone who matches his freak

- he definitely groans when you twirl your tongue around and across each of his nipples

- and his hand is already in your hair while you lick across every little dip and crevice of his abs

- allllll the way down to that sexy v-line

- and you glance up at him for a moment before you pull his shorts off to make sure he’s okay with it

- and this man is practically foaming at the mouth like “don’t you dare stop now”

- and so you don’t

- the moment his dick is springing free you’re taking him to the hilt

- and just staying there for a moment while his bush tickles your nose

- and you just breathe it in 

- “you gonna suck my cock or do i have to do it for you?”

- he doesn’t really wait for a response, he just grabs you by your hair and starts fucking your mouth

- every little choking noise or gasp that escapes you really only makes him go harder

- and as soon as he sees the tears pricking at your eyes and the drool dripping down your chin he’s grinning like he just won the open

- “you were so desparate earlier baby?? now you’re crying??”

- he’s so big and your mouth is so warm and wet and small and tight around him

- and you can’t help yourself. you have to bring one of your hands down so you can rub your clit with as much vigor as he’s fucking your mouth with

- “filthy little thing. so fucking sexy. so greedy.”

- you’re so perfect that he’s shooting his load down your throat within minutes and immediately pulling you up so that he can stuff his fingers inside you and finish you off

- his big, ridged fingers and his hairy knuckles. yes those ones

- and once your pussy is finally done spasming around them he’s pulling them out of you and licking the taste of you off of his fingers

- and then he’s grinning at you. making fun of you for getting so worked up by his body hair

- “you’re such a freak, babe”

- and you just give him a look because… he’s a fucking hypocrite

-----

tagging: @kimmyneutron @kharwreck @babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime

[shotos-wifeyy]

Riding shoto 🫣

(NSFW warning)

Hear me out, He hates being dom.

I mean like, if he’s hard as hell he won’t hesitate to jump on you if you don’t feel like topping, but otherwise…

“baby…” He would whine, holding you from behind as you away together in the kitchen, the class chattering at the table and in the common room.

“mmm?” You would hum as you take a sip of your water.

He would tighten his grip, pushing his hips against your ass so you could feel how hard he is.

“Jesus!” You would cough, choking on your water. “Shoto we are in public” You scold under your breath.

He whined and digs his head into your neck, holding you tighter. “go take care of it” You hiss.

He tightens his grip on your waist, his knuckles white. “i need you..”

“You have hands” You sip your water.

“You have knees”

“Shoto i swear to the lord and heaven above-“

“I’ll do your homework for a week.” He stares at you.

“…..2 weeks.” You correct.

“2 and a half.” He kisses your neck.

You think for a moment before groaning. “fine. only because you’re really fucking hot.”

He perks up grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the stairs.

As soon as you step into his/your dorm he starts stripping.

“Calm down!” You squeak.

He stops in his tracks, staring deeply at you, jeans halfway down his legs. “…please?”

You stare back at him dumbfounded before throwing up your hands. “oh, what he hell!”

Not long later hes pulling you onto his lap, skin to skin.

“You really like this postiton aye?” You mock.

He blushes heavily. “You’re good at it…”

“Mmm..” You hum. “Just relax, let me take care of you.” You mock the words he’s said to you many times before.

He just stares adoringly at you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “How did i get so lucky?” He whispers, more to himself than to you.

It’s not hard to redirect him as he’s already hard as fuck. You wrap a hand around his shaft, giving him a small jerk before positioning him at your entrance, lowing yourself onto him.

He groans as your hips meet his. “just like that-“

“mmmm~ you like that?~” You tease.

He would just nod, his hands moving to grip your waist tightly, pushing you down harder onto him.

“You take me so good baby~ holy-“ He groans as you roll your hips over him.

You begin to get lost in the feeling yourself, holding onto his hips as you slide over him.

“G-god-“ he gasps and moans. “ahh…b-baby-“

You ignore him, grinding your hips together as he works deep inside you, hitting just the right spot. “s-shoto~! fuck!”

He groans and digs his nails into your hips, bucking his hips up with you on instinct. You throw your head back as you continue to bounce on his dick.

You sped up and he lets out a strangled moan of your name, pushing you down harder onto him. He dosent even give you a warning as he shivers hard, white hot liquid hitting dripping down your thighs.

You release with him not long after. riding out the waves of the high, you collapse on him. he immediately brings his hands up and cuddles you agaisnt his chest, massaging your hair.

“Thank you, baby” He pants, kissing your head.

You just ‘mmph’ in response and he chuckles. He slides himself out of you with a groan. you whine slightly at the loss of contact, rolling onto the other side of the bed with a frown as he climbs off.

“where are you going?” you pout,

“I’m coming right back.” He teases.

A minute or so later he comes back from his bathroom, rag in hand. he carefully cleans your thighs and lower areas as he kisses your stomach and neck. He thanks you and praises you for your beauty and how good you take him.

You force him to watch a movie, and he complies. You buy doordash for the entire class with endeavors credit card. Why?

You’re sad if you think they didn’t hear anything. Check the class groupchat >.<