#went to work to try and get into routine

[ficklecat]

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall,

Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

[satari-raine]

Forever a turtle, but life update:

Got a job! It's a retail position at a local thrift store chain, which is a tiny bit disheartening for some dumb personal reasons, but it's certainly something - overall, though, it's a good thing. Hopefully it'll help get my finances back in order and a sense of routine again. It'll be a bit rocky at the start, catching up on bills and getting used to retail again, but it's something.

Just wanted to say a genuine thank you to those that helped out and gave well wishes during me rambling on here for a few months. It meant and still means a lot to me, it really does. Hope you all are doing well, too, as always. Rooting for you.

[dhmis-autism]

i feel like the original series was red guy centered, the first season was for yellow guy, and i am BEGGING AND PRAYING that season 2 will be more about duck!! i will probably cry if anything happens to him though lol 💀 everytime writers break a comic relief character i just OUGSHGS.. it gets me.

h well I don't think you're wrong about that! Webseries being Red Guys time to shine, S1 of the TV show being for Yellow (esp the last two episodes I think? Even thought outside of that, he does get a lot of focus/he IS the one who talks to the audience the most directly). From what I remember hearing, the pilot was pretty Duck-centered.

But I think even if he GETS his big moment in the sun, so to speak, it's NOT going to be as emotional as the other twos. On top of him just not being a very um… let's say sentimental character, he's just not the make-you-cry type! It's just not him imo!

IDK, I operate under the opinion that… in his weird little head, the most important thing that he values over everything is keeping the three of them together. Both because he thinks of them as a weird little family AND because he really doesn't have anyone else outside of the trio. We also know from the interview, and you could maybe argue from the Family episode ( Who do you love?/Anyone who loves me back., I asked every member of my family who they loved the most, and they all said me ) that being loved is something that he actually values QUITE a bit! More than you would assume on first glance! He's weirdly upfront about it haha!

In that way, I imagine that if they were to TRY to pull something to put him in the spotlight in the way you're imagining (i.e. something emotional and focusing on his issues like they did with Yellow & Red) it would either focus on his desire to be loved OR his dedication to keeping the three of them together. But I would argue they both already did that in the Family episode AND put him through the worst case-scenario in regards to those more emotional aspects of his character ( here I think the worst case scenario to him is the other two rejecting him, harshly, unambiguously and to his face, multiple times and the three of them separating ). AND THE THING IS… THAT ALREADY HAPPENED! THAT DIDN'T BREAK HIM!

He had his little pout over it in his dress and was like FINE! I DON'T NEED THEM ANYWAYS! So, I really don't think that big "character-breaking" moment is coming. If the Family ep didn't get him I honest to God don't think there's anything else the house could throw at him that could get under his skin.

[hopalongfairywren]

okay well there goes any motivation I had

[ranger-kellyn]

just got the devastating news that we're being forced to go back to work 50% of the time in office next month, and likely by this time next year it will be at 100% all so we can "get back enjoying the things we did pre-covid, like meaningful in-person engagement!" due to "how well our nation handled covid!" as if it's literally not still killing and disabling people on the daily.

[tentglitch]

I actually just don't think I can fall asleep intentionally anymore unless I take meds like it's actually impossible

[sugussugar]

boyfriend! satoru with a reader who struggles with an eating disorder and body image issues.

boyfriend! satoru who, before finding out, steals your food all the time. it's intended to be silly. “ooo, haha, we're sharing food that was supposed to just be for you!” is essentially what he thinks; he unintentionally stays ignorant to how he's the only one eating, how he's the one who finishes the whole plate of food, not both of you.

boyfriend! satoru who, before finding out, pokes your stomach a lot. it's mindless, like a habit. he doesn't notice how badly it affects your vision of yourself. he doesn't see how you stare at your naked body in the mirror and remember how he poked your stomach; “does he not like my body? is this his way of saying i look fat?” you think to yourself as tears bead up on your waterline.

boyfriend! satoru who finds out by pure accident. you were in the bedroom, on a phone call with a girl friend of yours, and somehow your eating disorder came up as a topic. you didn't think he'd hear, he was all the way in the living room, after all. but what you didn't know was that he'd started to miss your presence and went to your shared bedroom to relieve the ache, only to hear what you and your friend were talking about.

boyfriend! satoru who starts picking up on all the signs he neglected to notice before, such as you never wearing certain clothes he bought you if you deemed it ‘too revealing’, your stomach growling at the most random of times, when you would poke at your own stomach and frown, how you'd always hug a pillow to your stomach when you're sitting in bed or on the couch, eating slowly, never scolding him for stealing your food, skipping meals by ‘accident’, always ‘not hungry’, ect.

boyfriend! satoru who feels so ashamed for not noticing beforehand, because how could he not? the signs were there, he just wasn't looking hard enough.

boyfriend! satoru who has no clue how to bring it up after that. because, realistically, how would he? “hey, babe! the other day i heard you telling your friend about how you hate your body and have an eating disorder, wanna unpack that?” no, that sounds intrusive and insensitive.

boyfriend! satoru who, instead, tries to do little acts to try and get you to like your body without directly bringing it up.

boyfriend! satoru who litters little kisses all over your tummy right before bed. it turns into a nightly routine.

boyfriend! satoru who rubs your stomach whenever he's spooning you from behind while kissing your shoulder every now and then.

boyfriend! satoru who murmurs soft: “you're so pretty”'s, and “such a beautiful body”'s every time the two of you get sexually intimate.

boyfriend! satoru whose new favorite position is missionary, because it means he can watch your face heat up while he tells you how gorgeous your body is.

boyfriend! satoru who stops stealing your food.

boyfriend! satoru who starts cooking homemade meals for you. he makes a mental list of all your favorite foods alongside a list of foods your friends have said you liked and gets to work. he knows you're more likely to eat it if you know he made it, rather than if it's just an instant can of nothingness like normally.

boyfriend! satoru who watches your plate whenever the two of you eat together. it isn't an intense stare, just looking down at it every now and then, smiling a little whenever he sees you actually eating.

boyfriend! satoru who realizes it's working when all the tiny things you used to do stop happening. you eat at a regular pace now, you slap his hand when he steals your food, you tell him when you're hungry, you eat three meals a day, you wear all the clothes he buys you, you stop hiding your stomach, you're happier.

boyfriend! satoru who is ecstatic to have you feeling happy with yourself again. he thinks you're so pretty, you deserve to feel that way just as much as he does.

[quitedisastrous]

my mom told me i almost got diagnosed with autism as a kid (she says i wasn't officially diagnosed because the diagnosis wouldn't have been useful so i guess my symptoms were so on the fence that they didn't push for it) which. like i'm 100% sure i have autism but holy mackerel. she couldn't have told me this as a kid???? it's a good thing i'm both logical and oblivious so i didn't spend too much time thinking "something is wrong with me. what the fuck is wrong with me" but like. what the fuck?

[brucedefender4eva]

After the fourth night in a row where one of his kids directly disobeys his orders and gets hurt even more

Bruce is just done

Burnt out, drained, weary; whatever the fuck you want to call it at this point

He’s been working on himself a lot lately. And at this point in all his relationships, he understands that taking away their alter-ego and benching them will only backfire on him.

So he doesn’t do anything

He mentally throws his hands up in defeat and just… does whatever they wants to diffuse the situation

Dick is expecting another yelling match to commence the moment they get back to the cave. In fact, he went out tonight deliberately trying to get to this moment. He brought cough drops for the aftermath to soothe his throat from all the yelling. He knows it isn’t healthy, but he just needs to let out some steam

Instead of their usual routine, Bruce gets out of the Batmobile and doesn’t even look at Dick. You can’t say his posture is… relaxed… but it isn’t wound up tightly like it usually is when one of his children gets hurt

Bruce goes over to the Batcomputer and starts typing down what happened on patrol that night while Dick does his best not to put any pressure on his possibly broken leg

After a few minutes of silence, Bruce sighs and turns back to Duck with a raised eyebrow, his face passively blank

“What?”

Dick shifts and winces as his entire leg throbs painfully. “A-aren’t you gonna call Alfred?” Dick responded back petulantly, keeping his voice low in hopes Bruce wouldn’t hear him then get annoyed and finally show some emotion

“Your arm isn’t broken, is it? Use it.” Bruce said simply before turning back around and continuing to type.

Dick felt anger bubble up in his chest, but it felt stupid to try and start a fight when Bruce obviously wouldn’t engage.

Dick storms off in a huff, at least he tries. He makes it a few steps before deciding to sit down and call Alfred.

“Love you,” Bruce calls back to him without turning around, causing Dick to stick up both of his middle fingers in retaliation.

Or with Jason, he’ll pick his battles and accept whatever happens afterwards

Jason’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Extremely reminiscent of when he first came to the Manor

He had shot someone on patrol. Could he have used his rubber bullets instead of his real ones? Yes. Did he lie to Bruce and say that he didn’t have real bullets in him? Also yes

But fuck Bruce and all the rules he has

Now it was completely silent as they rode home in the Batmobile.

Jason checked over his gun for the fourth time before carefully tucking it back in her holster.

“You’re seriously not gonna say anything, old man?” Jason griped. Usually, this would be the catalyst for a large-scale argument, but there was nothing. Not even an eye roll for Jason's old man comment.

“What’s the point? Not like you’ll listen anyway.” Bruce shrugged, ignoring Jason's angry scoff as he stopped the Batmobile. “Here, your safe house.”

Jason blinked at Bruce, looking at him incredulously. “Are you fucking serious? You’re dropping me off at my safe house? Not gonna allow me in the cave anymore?” Jason snarled, not even thinking to question how Bruce knew where his super secret safe house was.

“You said, and I quote, ‘never wanna set foot in this fuck ass cave another day of my undead life’.” Bruce raised an eyebrow, at least it sounded like he did. Hard to tell with the cowl.

“Fuck you!” Jason decidedly does not pout as he gets out of the car and starts storming up to his door.

Bruce rolls down the windows and shouts out a quick ‘love you’ before speeding off into the night.

He won't enable it, but he's not gonna go out of his way to stop them if he's tried once before

Tim’s sitting down at the Batcomputer, mulling over a case that Bruce said to drop several times or at least put a pause in it, cause it's taking its toll on the young detective

When Bruce walks downstairs, Tim’s expecting a confrontation since Bruce had told him to go to sleep at least four times already

But nope

When Bruce noticed Tim looking at him, he simply gave him a greeting grunt before shuffling through his own stack of papers

“I know you said to go to bed, but I’m almost done! I swear!” Tim pressed his back firmly against the swivel chair, waiting…

“Mhmm…” Bruce hummed, barely listening. “Sleep, don’t sleep. Whatever.” Bruce takes another sip of his tea before placing it beside Tim, grabbing a folder full of paper, and pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead. “Have fun, love you.”

Damian’s angry at him for something perfectly normal to be angry about, whether it’s regular teen stuff or vigilante stuff? Agree with him

While he’s threatening to stay a week at Dick’s place or even the Kent farm, Bruce is packing a bag for him

He nods and hums along absentmindedly as Damian rants that he can’t stand being in the Manor. Nothing he hasn’t heard a million times before from his children and other non-children

“What are you doing?” Damian questioned, finally stopping his rant to actually pay attention to what his father’s doing

“You said you needed a break from me, right?” Bruce grinned, actually okay with the house being quiet for a few days. “You’ve been dying to hang out with Jon more, go on.”

Jon, who was listening in just like his father always is, was already floating outside with the biggest and brightest smile on his face

“Have fun, kiddos. Love you!” Bruce called out, ignoring Damian’s sputtering as he shut the manor door behind him

——

Explanation for this post

<Next>

[the-shedevil-writes]

Polaroids (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Bob keeps your relationship private, but he doesn't try to hide the dozens of Polaroids of you all over his locker and truck. He has a daily routine of taping his favorite Polaroid of you to his jet's console, but when it goes missing, things get chaotic. Luckily, you're there to make everything better. WORD COUNT: 2.3k WARNINGS: Bob gets angry in this one, folks. Cussing. Fighting. Hangman's an asshole- sorry. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3

Bob didn’t like talking about his relationship. It’s not that he wasn’t proud of her, or that he felt ashamed. But in fact, the opposite. He’d seen these animals, he’d call co-workers, and how they’d treat girls. Granted, the squadron he was with now wasn’t so bad. Rooster, Hangman, and Fanboy were hard flirts, but they had basic decency. He never felt embarrassed by their behavior when they went out to the bars, and they’d try and pick up a girl. If they were successful, they celebrated. If they weren’t, they’d walk away and move on. 

But it was his past experiences with other pilots. Locker room talk always rubbed him the wrong way. He did his best not to judge these guys. He had those thoughts, too, but he had heard too many dehumanizing things said about women he knew and didn’t. So he preferred to keep his gorgeous girlfriend, Y/n, under wraps, even if he did trust his current friends.

They preferred to keep their lives separate anyway. With Bob having his work and friend group, and Y/n having hers. It kept their conversations interesting, as they had their own lives to discuss, not just their shared one. 

The Dagger Squad, of course, would try and pry any information out of him. All they knew was that he had a girlfriend. Half the time, they’d forget what her name was because they had never met her, and Bob preferred not to talk about her, for fear they’d ask to see her. 

He was surprised they didn’t notice the Polaroids. Taking pictures of his girl was his favorite thing to do besides flying. He wasn’t exactly a photographer. But he made good use out of the instant Polaroid camera she got him for Christmas. It was so much better than taking pictures on his phone because he could hold the memory in his hand. The light and the moment were captured and printed instantly just for him. 

They were stuck everywhere. Photos over the years were plastered all over the inside of his locker. In his phone case was a picture of her wearing his glasses. And in the fold-out mirror of his truck was a photo of her taken off guard in the kitchen that she hated, but he loved. The one of her kissing his cheek was usually tucked in the front pocket of his flight suit. They all served as reminders of what he had waiting for him once his shift was over. His best friend and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his whole life. 

His favorite was the photo he taped to his control panel every day. It was a little beat up, naturally, but he made sure to keep that one in the best condition it could be. It was his good luck charm- the first Polaroid he had ever taken of her. It was Christmas morning, and she sat next to the lit tree, in his old Lemoore High School shirt that she had stolen for herself. She hugged the frankly huge teddy bear that he had gotten her. While the lights on the tree sparkled in the photo and cast a golden glow on her smiling face. For some reason, when he had it, the missions went better. The days went by more easily when he got to see his girl’s face after a stressful hiccup in flight. 

It had been a long and grueling day flying under the sweltering sun. They had been training for a strike mission, and the dogfighting exercises had left him drenched in sweat, and owing Maverick 200 push-ups. Thanks, Payback, for the BRILLIANT idea. And thanks, Hangman, for doing what he did best- leaving him in the dust and pushing his buttons. 

After an almost embarrassing amount of time, he walked back to the locker room with biceps so sore they screamed. He unzipped his flight suit and took his glasses off, using the white shirt underneath to clean the fog and sweat off them. He couldn’t wait to go home and find his girlfriend in her study, working. And he especially couldn’t wait to bug and distract her from all of it. 

That’s when the sense of dread hit him, and he realized. He quickly checked all his pockets. Yes, the one of her kissing his cheek was there. But his lucky charm wasn’t in any of the other pockets. He rushed to climb out of his flight suit and scrambled to throw on a random shirt and shorts from his duffel. He couldn’t leave it in the jet. Who knew what maintenance would do if they found it? They’d probably just throw it away. 

Throwing on his backpack, he sprinted back down to the hangar. He didn’t even notice the whole squadron standing around talking. He didn’t care. All he wanted was his favorite picture and for this horrible day to be over with. 

The sunset shone on his forehead, exacerbating the glistening stress sweat. He quickly climbed the ladder onto the Super Hornet and looked inside the backseat interior. The only place it could be. And when he looked at the spot between the radar and the comms control, he put his face in his hands. It wasn’t there. The memory of the Christmas lights and the bear was missing. 

“Fuck.” He said to himself. It was hard to get Bob to curse, but this felt like an appropriate occasion.

Then Hangman’s voice rang out behind him. 

“Hey Baby on Board! You sure this isn’t a picture you found on Google?” 

Bob’s head whipped back to find Jake Seresin holding the photo. On one hand, he was just grateful that someone had found it. On the other hand, out of all the pilots, he wished so deeply that it wasn’t Hangman. 

He quickly climbed down the ladder. “Give me it back, please.” He said exasperated, and walked towards him.

Jake held the photo up so that Bob couldn’t get it. Neither of them was short, but Hangman was just slightly taller. 

“I’m not kidding.” He said, trying his best to keep his cool. It took a lot to make Bob angry. He was typically level-headed and able to logically think things through. That’s why he was a WSO Top Gun Graduate, and not necessarily a pilot. But right then, his whole day had been building up inside him, and this was the one thing he didn’t mess around with. 

“I just can’t believe that a babe like this is with a guy like you. Really, you should let me call her up.” He said teasingly with a smile. After leaving Bob and Phoenix stranded, AND doing this, Bob was at the end of his rope.

“Hangman, just give him back the photo,” Phoenix voiced with her arms crossed. She and Rooster watched the whole interaction, which just made him feel worse. This was humiliating. It was like they were boys in a school yard- which Bob would say was an apt description of most of the people he had worked with in the past.

He reached up for the photo and finally got a grip on it, but Hangman didn’t let go. 

“I just think it’s funny! I wanna look at it. I think there’s more in his locker, too.”

“Just let go, Hangman.” His voice was less whiny and more serious now. 

“No!” He grinned.

The two tussled and grabbed at the photo. It felt like a moment that was way too long. Until eventually they each pulled in a different direction, twisting it. It completely bent. Thankfully, it couldn’t rip because of the type of film, but the photo itself was fairly distorted. Bob’s heart beat out of his chest, and it was like his stomach twisted the same way the photo did. 

He suddenly let go of the photo and pushed Hangman so hard he stumbled back, surprised. The photo slapped onto the pavement. 

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE,” Bob said, following after him, ready to beat the shit out of him. Even though at first glance, most people would believe that Hangman would win in a fight between the two. It didn’t quite look it at the moment with the anger in Bob’s eyes and his arms pumped from the earlier push-ups.

Rooster quickly ran over and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back. “HEY HEY HEY!” 

Phoenix ran over and did the opposite, pushing her hand against Hangman’s chest, though he didn’t try to move forward. He knew he was in the wrong here, and it was clear by his guilty expression.

“Bob, man, calm down,” Rooster said. They all looked at him, surprised. Timid, awkward Bob was… kinda scary when he was pissed off. His glasses slightly crooked and red in the face. Maybe it was just strange to see him so out of control.

He slowly pushed Rooster off of him and walked over, grabbing the crumpled photo on the ground. After a failed attempt at straightening it out, he put it in his pocket and walked off, steaming. 

That night, when he got home, he slammed the door. He was never the type to do that, but he felt so defeated. His duffel bag dropped to the floor uncaringly. 

“Bob? Is that you?” Y/n called out from the study.

He sighed, a little relieved. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” He said, his voice almost completely flat. That wasn’t normal. He’d usually meet her in the study, but at the sounds of distress, she quickly came out.

She walked out to find him hanging up his sweatshirt with a depressed look on his face. His usual smile was replaced by a small, tense frown, and his shoulders were high and stiff. Something was very wrong.

“Oh, baby.” She said, walking over, “What’s wrong?” Her voice was so gentle.

He sighed and quickly wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I need to shower,” He said, not having gotten the chance to on base. But he still squeezed her, needing the support dearly. 

She shook her head against his chest. “What happened?” She knew he was trying to avoid it. 

He stepped back and pulled the bent photo out of his pocket. “Hangman happened.”

She gasped at the sight of it in his hand. “Oh no… Is this a man or a dog we’re talking about here?” She asked confused, and that made him laugh a little. He was already so grateful to be home. 

“Man. Though he definitely acts like a dog.” He groaned.

She gently took the photo from his hands. “I can try and fix it. Straighten it out. There might be a crease still in it, though.” She tried her best to flatten it out like he did, but to no avail.

He shook his head. “You can try, but I doubt it’ll be okay.”

That answer was so depressing, she looked up and tilted her head. “Hey, we’ll get it back to normal. I’ll look it up. How about you go shower and eat? I made pasta cause I was too lazy to be a real chef tonight.” She tried to lighten the air. “Then you can tell me all about your day.” 

He sighed in relief. “You’re too good to me.” He said softly, pulling her in for a much-needed kiss.

And that’s exactly how they ended up sprawled on the couch, each with bowls of penne and vodka sauce. On the coffee table, the photo lay on a piece of wax paper and was buried under some thick fighter jet manuals Bob had. 

“It was just like the whole day had been building up in me. Payback’s bet. Hangman leaving me and Phoenix dead in the water. The two hundred push-ups. And the photo going missing in the first place drove me crazy. So when he bent it, I just… exploded a little.” He admitted, almost ashamed to have lost control.

She sighed. “That’s okay. It was natural after all of that.” She reassured gently, reaching for his calf and squeezing it. “This Hangman guy sounds like a real douche.”

“Understatement.” He said, but he was feeling better talking through it all with her. “I just hope that the photo is okay. You know it’s my good luck charm, and if it’s not flat, it won’t stick to my console very well.” 

A small smile appeared on her face. “It’s under some of the thickest books I’ve ever seen. If it’s not flattened, then that’s just defying gravity.” She said. 

He exhaled again, relaxing, and it was like the tension in him completely dissipated. “You’re right.” He said gently. 

“Hey, maybe after today he’ll leave you alone.” She suggested.

He scoffed, “Hangman? I give him less than a week before he starts using you against me.” 

She chuckled and set her bowl down so she could lie down against him. “Hmmmm, gotta get you enrolled in anger management classes then.” She teased.

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re funny.” He said sarcastically.

The next morning, he woke up at the crack of dawn per usual. He slowly slipped out of his girlfriend’s grasp, and she whined, half asleep. Their typical routine. He gently leaned down, ran his hand over her hair, and kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep.” He whispered, and she subconsciously did so.

He got ready in his khaki uniform and walked out to the living room. On the table were the stacks of manuals. He very carefully took them off one by one and set them on the couch to soften the noise. Checking on the Polaroid, he sighed in relief as it was flat again. A small crease was across the middle, but at the very least, it was flat. He turned it around and saw something new. On the plain white back of the photo was a lipstick kiss mark over the folded line. In the tiniest pen was ‘A kiss to make it better’. 

And the biggest smile grew on his face. This was better than he could’ve asked for. 

Now he didn’t just have a good luck charm, but also a kiss to remember her by. 

[spurbleu]

neighbor!simon x reader. longer read. follow up.

your neighbor is a homebody. sort of.

he’s either never home or always home. you aren’t sure what he does, but whatever it is leaves his flat vacant for months at a time, not so much as a mouse breath breaching the thin popcorn walls that separate your rooms.

and when he is in the complex, you’d never know it. a shut in, the only give away is the muffled news channel that burrows through your moldings, or smithed footfall at ungodly hours.

the first time you caught him moving in while off to work. big bloke- and when you waved to him he stared, before lumbering into his complex. given, he was holding a large cardboard box, so you weren’t expecting him to return the greeting. but a hello would’ve been nice.

it was 4 months until you got a good look at him.

you were awake at a time you shouldn’t have been for a reason you had long forgotten. you do remember thinking you might as well do your laundry.

when you went down to the mat, there he was.

tracker fed shoulders taking up half the space, and on an inhale they took two thirds. clothes looked as though they had been dyed in pen ink and left to dry in hail. mud boots, thick legs, and the silhouette of a cauliflower ear against the fabric of his balaclava.

he glared at you like you weren’t supposed to be there. an anomaly, disturbed his routine. steel face, stone eyes, swear you’d seen the same look in your history books on the shields of greek soldiers.

it all scared you shitless, so you turned on your heel and didn’t go back until the morning. you make it a point to hustle past his door after that.

but you tend to take more than you can handle. swaddling your groceries as you wobble up the stairs, just barely there before your foot catches on the last step. produce among some of the other fragile items scattered across the tiles, and you curse under your breath.

you wouldn’t characterize yourself as a klutz, but it scrambling to collect your groceries feet from your door isn’t helping your case. the paper bags struggle against your grip, and it feels like you’re just biding your time until they all rip apart.

“you need help.”

its said more like an observation than it is a question. you turn slowly, and a goliath stands 6 feet and something over you. he sports a medical mask and a ballcap, which reveals new features- sun bleached skin that peels from the bridge of his nose to between his brows, which are thick and blonde. the left is cut in half by scar tissue and spite. if you squint you see freckles.

the night he scared you, you remembered his eyes as pitch. crow feather. under your bed.

you now see they’re the deepest shade of brown.

“i- no its fine i..” your arms do a dance with the bags, trying to keep them steady.

he grabs them both from you, and suddenly they still. its like handing squealing pigs to a farmer. built for holding them. it makes you feel weird that you like it.

“unlock the door.”

you do as you’re told and find your keys in your back pocket. fumble at the lock before opening the door and standing to the side to let him in. he nods.

sets your groceries down before gently tipping the brim of his cap. he doesn’t say anything before leaving.

and this started the strangest routine.

every week you’d get groceries, he’d be there.

the first time he was on the second flight of stairs. when you questioned how he knew you’d been shopping, he rolled his shoulders and scoffed.

“your huffin n puffin gave you away.”

he was there for four more trips. each time, you had gotten more words out of him. found out he had the driest sense of humor and a plethora of knock-knock jokes that you painfully laughed at.

he even kept up with the occasional flirt.

“yknow, you could start charging for your manual labor.”

“you rich?” he returned.

you laughed. “far from it. but this is a service, and you haven’t started making demands so…”

he stopped and stared at your back before you turned around. “so what?”

“i have to assume you just like me.”

he rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his cheek twitched under his eyes. although it was hidden by the mask, you had made him smile.

“don’t get your hopes up.”

all of it was enough for you to get comfortable. and then he wasn’t there.

the absence was strange enough to make your pace stutter when you reached the second floor, but you recovered and trekked to your room.

not without glancing at his door, though.

he must be back at work. surely he isn’t…well. he couldn’t have moved out without telling you. you aren’t close but maybe you are?

you thought so hard about it for so long that you placed your ear to the wall separating your flats.

after a few moments, you heard nothing. not even a mouse breath.

you felt foolish for being so relieved. and you kept feeling foolish for hoping he’d be there with every errand, and disappointed when he wasn’t.

it was 4 more groceries trips before you saw him again.

waiting at the entrance of the complex, crossed arms and black attire stood out like a sore thumb in the winter blight that bit at your nose with snow and temperatures below freezing. you picked up the pace.

when you got to the cement steps, you sorely regretted your decision to jog. not because it winded you, or it amplified the struggle you had with your bags, but because of the smug smile you could see crinkling the bastards cheeks under his mask.

“you missed me.”

you handed him a bag. “i missed your arms. carry that.”

you could hear the grin from behind you.

“whatever you say, sweet’eart.”

[militaryapple]

SHE'S SWEET LIKE CANDY!

synopsis. you spot something when you're out at the mall with tara. you cant help but think about your boyfriend who's at work doing the best he can, so why not give him a little gift?

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, face fucking, cunnilingus, making him whine, petnames, make him beg for you girl, well its caleb so he a lil nasty icl, nicest I've written caleb

add ons. THIS LITERALLY CAME INTO MY HEAD WHILE LISTENING TO THE SONG OHH MY GODDDD GUYSSSHEBDHEB

wc. 2.9k

it wasn’t everyday you wore lingerie. actually, you didn’t even wear it. you thought the clothing was cute - sexy even! it just.. wasn’t something you were much into. well that was until you saw the set hanging up in a store you passed with tara. you couldn’t take your eyes off it - everytime you found yourself circling around back to the store at the mall, tara now being annoyed with you.

“i thought you weren’t that into lingerie?” she nudges you. she was right— you weren’t, but the thought of you putting it on, spreading yourself on the bed, waiting for him to come home and devour you. the sensation. you needed to buy this - it was a sign.

“i wasn’t” you retorted. sure, you didn’t really think of yourself as the type of woman to put on a show, but you couldn’t help but think about how he’d look at you. maybe he’d slowly glide your hands over the baby doll shaped dress, his hands would gently fondle your tits until your moaning for him - maybe his mouth would kiss all around you while he told you how gorgeous you looked in your newly bought clothes.

you needed that matching set.

“but trying something new wouldn’t hurt, right? it’s pretty cute too ‘tars” you nudged her back. your eyes flickered away from the glass that so proudly showed off the matching set going to your friend. tara glanced from you, to the set, back to you. her eyes scrutinizing you, her gaze watching your movements, face and even posture. it went until a moment after she moved her hands to her mouth. her face contorting into a shocked expression.

“you’re trying to impress - no, show out for someone!” tara yelled in a hush. this wasn’t a question, it was pure fact to her. oh how you hated how correct she was too, fine. you were trying to show out for someone. she wasn’t going to know that. she wouldn’t let you live it down. for sakes it was for caleb after all! part of you thinks he does deserve a little sweet treat for all the hard work he’s been doing for you.

“whaaaaaat? no! what makes you think that? i’m just.. getting more comfortable in my skin y’know?” you tried to avoid her gaze. it was scary how accurate she was on most things, like, crazy accurate. maybe you should cut her off from those spiritual classes, they were obviously working horrible wonders for her.

tara tried to hide the snicker that was coming from her. her hands returning back to her sides before she grabbed your wrist. “fine fine, let’s go get you fitted in the set you’re eyeing. i’ll pay for it - think of it as a celebration! i’ve been waiting for this moment!” you could only sigh.

this was going to be a long while.

when you finally returned home, you thanked tara before rushing up to your door and making your way inside. you could admit, you were partly excited. you couldn’t see yourself fully in the set but based off tara’s inputs you looked ‘totally sexy!’ whatever. you checked your phone and looked at the text that caleb sent you, your face in a smile.

“be home soon pip’s! can’t wait to see what you bought back home! hopefully you got me a gift :)”

oh, you got him a gift. you sure did. you couldn’t help the excited kicks you did before getting the house ready. you started the shower and made sure to get your good razor and body scrub. your washing routine being extra careful. you got out, now scrambling to dry off and get the set.

it took you a minute but you got it on, you rushed back to your bathroom and started to do your hair and makeup, making sure it was subtle but enough to give you a little boost. oh and were you were feeling yourself. anxiously, you made your way to your mirror. your gaze glancing over your body, your face, hair. you looked put together.

you giggled to yourself, striking a pose or two and taking a photo. did you want to surprise caleb when he got home? yes, yes you did. but could you contain yourself? no. no you couldn’t. you set up your room and cleaned up the house a bit before making your way to your bed and settling down. you whipped out your phone and sent a pretty little text to caleb.

“i got you a little something on the side too, wanted to show you now. i can’t wait til you come home, hurry :(” - 1 photo attached.

your bit your finger anxiously. he read it. no response. your mind wandered, what if he didn’t like it? is he weirded out now? did he not want to see you like this? god were you anxious. you couldn’t stand waiting; especially since he didn’t reply to you.

it didn’t take long until you heard the rattling of your door, your head perking up as you got back into the position you were in. he’s home. you scrambled around while the rattling stop and sounds of footsteps filled the air, getting closer and closer to your room.

your door creaked open, caleb stood there, his gaze unwavering from you. his eyes fixed on you while a smile creeped on his face. “so i didn’t imagine it.” he said softly. “welcome home, honey.” you said back oh so sweetly.

caleb didn’t take any time when it came to you, his hands finding their way around your body, his lips kissing every part of you that he could feel. how euphoric this was for both you and him. you were so sweet for him, he could almost cry. “so,” he said whispering, his head digging into your neck. “what made you get dolled up for me? hm? did i do something good?” his voice was intoxicating. how he spoke with such urgency but he was so gentle.

“hmm.. well you’ve been working so hard for me. you deserved something.” you smiled, your hands finding his. caleb felt like he could melt. just for him? for working like he’s always done? oh fuck, it was enough to make his cock twitch with eagerness.

“who am i to deny something so sweet? especially since it’s a gift from you.” he grabbed your hips, turning you over so he could see you on top of him. you were beautiful. his hands roamed around your body, he couldn’t get enough of you. your curves, the way you swayed your hips, how you arched so naturally for him, how you were made for him.

your hands found their way to his face, and he couldn’t help but lean into them letting out a soft moan. “you look really pretty, and I mean ‘fuckin gorgeous.” his words were shaky. his eyes dawned on you. your hands making their way to his jaw, then to his lips. glazing over them slightly before you bent down to give him kisses. such a good idea to wear lipstick.

your lips stained his body, it was proof. proof on how you owned him, how he was yours forevermore. caleb couldn’t help but snicker. “you having fun there?” and you nodded. you reached for his uniform, undoing it and tossing his clothes to the side. your pussy throbbed at the sight of him like this. he was so fucking pretty, like a puppy. the way his eyes looked up at you in a way where he was pleading you to let him ruin your body. the way your lipstick matched such a perfect shade for his skin and how messy his lips looked.

he looked fucking messy, and you haven’t even started.

caleb gripped your thighs, “cmon baby don’t be like that, I’m dying here.” his hips rolling - sending a shiver down your spine. you let out a moan, your hands running down his exposed chest. “i know baby” you coo. your hands moving back, finding his cock and palming it through his pants. you could drink up this sight of him and it was one of the days where his robotic arm was exposed? you were in heaven.

“fuck, fuck fuck fuck, that feels good - real good, please,” his hips bucking up. your hands sliding away while his moans turned into pleas. caleb squeezed on your hip. “no, no no no please baby let me, I’ve been a real good boy.” oh fuck did that do something to you. his face soft with an sad expression. he was so so cute you couldn’t help but tease him. your cunt throbbed from negligence. you leaned down and kissed him again, smiling. “then be a good dog and eat me out.”

you settled your body on his face, not sitting fully but enough for him to taste you. caleb let out a scoff before grabbing your thighs and tugging you down, pushing all your weight on him. “oh cmon baby, i wanna taste all of you.” and that’s what he did. caleb licked your folds and sucked on your nub, his tongue licking your slit and drinking up your arousal. he was eating you out like a starved man.

your hands gripped on his hair, your hips swayed on his lips to his nose. oh fuck did he feel good. caleb used his hands to feel your bra. it was nice, pretty. it suit you so fucking well, fuck you were his pretty girl. he whimpered, allowing you to ride his face. what’d they say? save a plane & ride a pilot? whatever it was, this was fucking it.

caleb placed sloppy kisses around your entrance, using his evol to keep you down while he was able to continue touching you. “if you keep moving baby, i can’t eat my dinner properly.” he chuckled. his tongue finding itself inside your dripping cunt, you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan. fuck he was a natural. you twitched while calebs mouth worked wonders on you.

“caleb — caleb ‘m gonna, oh oh please make me cum make me cum,” you whined. his mouth picking up speed as he kissed and licked you. fuck did he make you stupid. caleb placed his last kiss before he felt you twitch. his evol letting you move freely while he flipped you both. “look at your panties baby, they’re all soaked now.” he teased.

you couldn’t help but push him a little. caleb snickered before removing his gloves, his fingers now freed while he kissed your chest. “gonna make you cum a few more times ‘kay?” he smiled. before you could respond his fingers disappeared and your stomach does flips. his fingers big, and long, making your toes curl. “oh fuck, you’re so good caleb — so fucking good for me.”

caleb couldn’t deny, hearing you praise him make his cock throb. he wanted to make you feel like heaven and earth combined. his fingers curling upward making your gasp for air, his thumb rubbing circles on the nub of your clit. “aw baby, i really make you feel that good?” he teased. you grabbed his arm nodding and whining. you wiggled under him - your eyes glistening.

“gonna cum? cmon say you are.” he coo’d. you moaned, body shaking as you tried to at least form a sentence. “yes yes yes ‘m close please please please” god you sounded pathetic under him. he loved it. your walls clenched on his fingers as he stretched you and kissed you. “okay, cum for me then pretty baby.”

you did exactly that. coating his fingers with your juices. you felt weak, and caleb sat up. “what about me baby? i need to cum to.” he said sadly. his cock practically imprinting on his pants. you couldn’t just leave your dear boyfriend like this. you got up, pulling on his waistband and revealing his dick. did he seem.. bigger???

“from all the teasing you’re doing to me. not to mention this cute little outfit you got on.” his face wide in a smile. his tip was swollen, pink and veiny. curling up just enough to hit every one of your sweet spots. you saw the pre-cum that leaked from his slit and you couldn’t help but give it kisses.

“oh, fuck. that’s it baby.” caleb moaned, his hand making its way around your hair, and rubbing your chin.

you looked up at him, swirling your tongue around his tip. fucking perfect. was all he was able to think before you used your other hand to start pumping his cock.

he was big, it took a minute for you to relax your lips and jaw around his head, but once you felt okay; your mouth slammed on him. caleb cried out when he felt you start sucking him. his hands that were once gentle and soft now rough; grabbing your hair and bucking his hips up.

you let your tongue relax while caleb grabbed your head and rammed his cock in your mouth, abusing your throat. “i can’t help it ‘m sorry please you feel so good - so tight.” he pleas. your eyes on him while he looks completely drunk off you. he was such a pretty fucker.

his cock tightened, and your throat slacken. caleb looked down at you and moved his hands to your face. plugging your nose.

it didn’t take long for caleb to be slamming into your mouth aimlessly. his hips spurt and a ‘pop!’ sound comes from your mouth, caleb’s dick hitting your face while he came all over it. you gasped and moan. “thaaaat’s it pretty girl.”

caleb moved behind you, his hands cupping your bra then moving to the straps, undoing the clips and taking the bra off. “the sheer gown stays on.” he kisses your neck. “you look so pretty in it.”

he pushed you down gently, bringing your ass up and aligning his cock with your entrance. caleb bit his lip, “need you to relax up a little okay?” he asked, and then he eased his way in. you felt so fucking warm. the way you clenched around his cock so nicely - how he stretched you even after prepping you. it was delicious.

caleb thrusted into you, hitting your cunt in all different ways. his pace picking up speed while he groaned. “got all pretty for me, do you know how hard it was to keep my composure at work?” he whined, snapping his hips back to you. his abs rocking against you. “couldn’t even jerk myself, fuck fuck, I came home as soon as I could just for you baby.”

he was mean. his tip kissing your cervix over and over again making you into a wobbly slobbering mess of cries and moans. caleb brought his hand down right between your thighs, rubbing circles over your already crying cunt. “reeeaal nasty girl you got here baby.” he teased you, placing a kiss on your back.

caleb grabbed your hips, slamming into you continuously. you couldn’t help but rock your hips attempting to match his pace. fuck did he like the view. his pretty baby, who once was dolled up now defiled into a pathetic whiny mess. “caleb - caleb,” you whined in your pillow. makeup smearing everywhere, nice one. now you have to buy a new pillow set.

you felt yourself getting close.

it was coming fast.

you lifted your head, moaning at the feeling of caleb’s cock burying itself back into your walls and out again. euphoric. “i feel weird. so weird baby please —”

caleb hushed you “i know baby it’s okay, im close too, yeah? come on baby come on.” he coo’s. caleb’s hips snapped and you felt a little ‘pop!’ and then a nudge near your stomach. he was in. fully. you moaned and gripped your sheets, tears streaming down your face as caleb fucked you like he was in heat.

caleb nipped at your tits, he fucking loved them. how perky and sensitive they were, how everytime he kissed them you whined in response, hell, caleb loved everything about your body. when it came to you he wanted to touch and explore you. his pretty doll.

he grabbed your arms, bringing you up and kissing your neck. “cum for me baby, cmon you can do it.” he hummed. oh how those words felt like heaven for you. it wasn’t until you started twitching as caleb now thrusted slower into you, and then it happened.

you sprinkled out a clear liquid on his cock. twitching and moaning while it dripped everywhere, you panted and whined. your body relaxing as you collapse while caleb came right inside your cunt. grunting, watching the little show you gave him.

caleb pulled out of you in awe. “did you just squirt all over me?” he teased you. you heaved, letting out small “m sorry”s. caleb could only chuckle at the sight.

“it’s fine baby, it was a show for me. felt good!” he smiled. caleb could see you were tapping out, breathing heavily as your lingerie was now messy with sweat, cum and what he liked to call ‘pussy juice.’ he smiled, his eyes looking over you and then placing a kiss on your cheek as you flopped to your side.

“i’ll get the water running, this was a nice gift princess. i might start buying you more lingerie sets from now on.” he chuckled before walking out the room.

yeah, maybe you could get used to this.

[ceilidho]

fig. 4. blood in eyes (wipe it off for me) | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

MASTERLIST · AO3

There’s someone in the building that messes with his head in a way that it shouldn’t be messed with.

or: the forced mating omegaverse au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Omegaverse, Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping, Heavy Noncon/Dubcon Elements

Too late for it to be of any use to him, Simon learns patience.

Patience in accepting things for what they are instead of resisting fate’s chokehold; in walking with the current instead of swimming against it. 

It doesn’t come easy. He remembers being a milktooth child, quiet and sullen before puberty swallowed him up and spat him back out; his demeanour just off-putting enough to keep him from ever making close friends. Father a constant and dreaded figure in his life, a malignant growth ever close to metastasizing. Flesh like a bruised peach, busted lip telling a story that no one seemed capable of acknowledging or reading. 

There was no such thing as patience back in those days. Just a constant rushing forward, grappling at the threads of adulthood like they might become a rope strong enough to pull him out. When they didn’t, he learned to tie them himself to strengthen the length of rope—learned every knot in the book, in fact, bowling, clove hitch, carrick bend, hangman’s—anything of use.  

That was a long time ago though. 

These days, he is something different. Something old-boned and asperous. Every morning, he again becomes a man like a poor choice of words. Darkness greets him when Simon opens his eyes, the sky outside of his window already pitch black, the sun long sunk beneath the horizon. 

It’s not happenstance—it’s routine. 

As spring inches into summer and the days grow longer, he gets a glimpse of the sun that he’s been avoiding all this time. It bleeds into his dinners with Gaz slowly but surely, the evening sky going ochre and then blood red in the twilight hours. He can’t say that he’s missed over the long winter months. There was a kind of relief in becoming nocturnal. Now, he has to face the day again.

The vestiges of all past incidents collide here somewhat mercilessly.

His life since leaving the service has been essentially meaningless, a direct continuation from the life he led before retiring. No aspirations or short-term ambitions. Staring down the barrel of his fourth decade and wondering whether he’ll make it. Whether it’s even worth it to try when the shit keeps piling up and the years keep slipping away and it’s getting harder rather than getting easier with time.

(too many people he’s seen die; too much that he himself has endured)

The shrink he’s forced to see (read: blackmailed into seeing) says things like PTSD and complicated grief. Simon scowls at the mention. He’s not disputing the nature of those things so much as their relation to him. What does it say about him besides that he was born? That he went through something terrible and now it’s over?

Some things are harder for him to deny. Sciatica and nerve pain; the low, constant buzzing of tinnitus in both ears. Muscle tension and migraines that come so suddenly that they nearly incapacitate him when they hit. Insomnia. Sleeping pills do the trick most of the time, but it takes a harrowing amount of effort to get any sleep without them. 

He gets a job as a night security guard-cum-parking lot attendant of a big office building downtown and that simplifies things a bit. Gives him a steady paycheck and a reason to get up every day. It’s also a sterile, quiet environment for the most part—he waits in his booth as the workers come down one-by-one and slouch into their cars, squeezing past each other on the way out. 

It’s not much, but it’s a living. More than that, it gives him a reason to get up in the morning, as mundane a job as it is. 

But—

there’s someone in the building that messes with his head in a way that it shouldn’t be messed with.

In the three months that Simon has worked in the building, he hasn’t gone more than a day without smelling that telltale scent of fresh, ripe omega. The same one too, all the time. Fresh and clean, like peppermint; it makes him suck his teeth as if to get the sugar off when it wafts under his nose. 

The first time he smells your scent, when the elevator doors open up and you step out into the carpark, it takes everything in him not to go after you. Head disconnected from his body, on a swivel; spine ramrod straight, steel-plated. Following your bouncy gait with his eyes as you traipse across the lot to your car sitting pretty in the corner of the carpark like that wouldn’t be the perfect place to accost you, all the security cameras pointed away.

He very nearly quits. Nearly rips off the badge hanging from the clip fixed to his belt loop and leaves the parking lot unattended. 

The only reason he doesn’t is because, well—

Simon’s used to torture. 

Pain is an inflexible, living thing that he has long since invited into his body to take up residence. It lives and breathes with him, synchronous movements in his chest. It flutters under the surface like a swimmer just barely keeping from breaching the water. 

And breach it does. Over and over and over again.

So he doesn’t quit. Sticks it out instead. Ignores the internal recalibration happening inside of him because when has that ever mattered? 

He knows who you are, after all. 

Busy bee that you are, you often work until late at night, driving home only when it’s dark out and there’s hardly anyone else on the road. It makes him antsy to think of you out there after dark, your only company on the road the long-haul truckers and drunk drivers. 

You’ve only ever spoken to him once—one time when you forgot your employee pass upstairs in your office and asked him so sweetly to let you back onto the elevator. Standing outside of his booth with your hands clasped together and your eyebrows delicately furrowed and his jaw growing heavier and heavier and—

Only a single, flimsy pane of plexiglas between the two of you. He could shatter it without much effort. Stuff you into the trunk of your car and use your keys to drive himself home. You eye him almost dubiously, like you can hear the thoughts writhing around in his head like snakes in a pit, and for a second your foot angles outward like you might even back away from the booth altogether. 

Simon holds himself back though. Only just. 

It’s not as rare these days for an omega to work such a high pressure job, but it’s certainly not common; you’re probably one of the few in the whole building. Certainly the only to have ever caught his attention.

He knows what it means too. Your scent. What it means that, after four decades of relative anosmia, someone suddenly comes along smelling like everything good in the world. The knowledge sits heavy in his stomach. 

It wasn’t supposed to be in the cards for him. A mate. It was supposed to be enough for him to have this half life. He has a history all cramped up in his chest, too much to burden anyone else with. Even his team—men that have bled and killed and nearly died with him—only know what could amount to an approximation. 

He was supposed to be fine with this arrangement, grateful that the universe has deigned to give him anything at all. 

So why then—

(why can he not get you out of his head?)

Simon thinks about it all the time, your scent still lingering in the carpark even hours after you’ve clocked in. Makes him think about sitting on his couch in his dingy flat, nursing a beer while you keep his cock warm in your mouth, dragging his thumb lazily over your scarred gland, a match on in the background. His perfect little family.

For weeks now he’s been on edge, pissed off because you keep flaunting your scent right under his nose like he’s supposed to be some bastion of self-control, somehow keeping himself from sinking his teeth into the delicate skin of your neck. It’s indecent. Unfair.

This is the point in his earlier years when his alpha would have twisted around in the back of his head and whispered something sinister into his ear, but those days are long gone. His alpha is not a distinct thing that he can feel or sense in any tangible way; it’s indistinguishable from him, no difference between its wants and his. Everything is just amplified, his hunger doubled. Refracted. 

Lots of things have built him into the man that inhabits his body today. Torture and torment and trauma. Reckoning with his own mortality one too many times; coming close enough to naming it. The man who is buried alive is not the same man who digs himself out. 

That, more than anything, is why he keeps his distance despite knowing what you are to him. 

From across the lot, on your way out for the day, you glance up and happen to meet his eyes. You smile politely and nod his way. 

The grey walls surrounding the booth press into him from all sides, squeezing around him until he can hear the blood pounding in his ears. 

Every Friday night, Price and him have a standing date at the local pub where they order drinks and make minimal conversation. Just the way Simon likes it. 

It’s always crowded and always thundering with noise, old timers smoking out front where cigarette butts are strewn all over the sidewalk. The men at the bar roar and clamour as they stare at the television screen hanging behind the bartender, banging their fists on the bartop and making the whole room shake whenever their team scores. 

It’s rowdy as all hell and it feels like being home. 

Simon knows that their weekly drink is just a way for Price to make sure that he hasn’t offed himself yet. He’s not a bad man, for all his faults. His dictatorial qualities are offset by his caring disposition, the temperament of a man willing to keep tabs on his soldiers well after they’ve left the service.

It’s excessive, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“You got plans for the weekend?” Price asks like he always does a few minutes into their first drink. 

Simon shrugs and takes a drink. “Got a few.”

His unwillingness to part with a sliver of personal information for even his closest companion must wear on the nerves, but he’s been going strong for thirty-something years. It speaks to his character and the longevity of their relationship that Price doesn’t seem to mind, content with whatever Simon deigns to let slip. 

“Got a few myself,” Price reveals, happy to part with his privacy for the sake of conversation. “Taking the missus up to Shropshire for a little honeymoon.”

“Just as well. She doing alright?”

Price shrugs. “Hasn’t taken apart the kitchen this week.”

That’s the extent of their conversation. The rest devolves into gentle ribbing about the match up on the telly (Manchester United vs. West Ham—ending in such a spectacular defeat for Man United that Simon nearly gets into it with a guy on the other end of the bar crowing too loud) before parting ways at the end of the night, Price going one way and Simon the other.

The streets are empty on his walk to the tube, the roads slick with puddle water from the earlier rainfall and the alleys illuminated by the red dots of cigarette butts, their custodians puffing away dutifully, their bodies ensconced in the shadows. A driver leans on their horn when he cuts across the street without checking for any oncoming traffic, and though the sound makes his upper lip curl, he ignores it.  

Sometimes, he hopes that someone will take him out to pasture like an old warhorse. Do it while he’s not looking. Let him catch one final sunset before putting him down. 

It would save everyone else a lot of grief. 

The only reason he doesn’t do it himself is because he couldn’t do that to Johnny. Can’t even stomach the thought of what it would do to him; can’t even trick himself into thinking that it wouldn’t bulldoze a hole right through his boy’s life. 

If someone else were to kill him, Johnny would at least have the possibility of closure. Maybe he ought to just pay someone to do it someday. Simon discards that thought as soon as it flits through his head though—there’s not a chance that Johnny wouldn’t scour the Earth to find the man that killed him. 

Simon’s as sure of that as he is of anything because he’d do the same for him.

Though he has two hundred thousand in an offshore account and thirty grand stuffed into his mattress, Simon takes the tube and walks every day on principle alone. His truck stays parked on the street unless he needs to move it to the other side for street sweeper to pass by. 

This train is for—

Next stop is—when leaving the train, please remember to take all of your belongings with you.

Cool in the early morning hours. When Simon gets off the train at his stop, the breeze slips into every open crevice of his jacket, crawling up his sleeves and down his collar. 

It’s early enough that the only people at the station with him are the early commuters, everyone going in the opposite direction from him, on their way downtown instead of on their way home. The sun peeking over the horizon is spoiled by a grey, dismal sky, saturating everything in a pallid, dreary light.  

There’s a bus that takes him nearly all the way home, though he has to walk the last ten minutes. He sits at the back with his hood drawn over his head, dead eyeing anyone stupid enough to glance his way too many times. When he gets off at his stop, it hurtles away from the curb as if it couldn’t get away fast enough. 

His flat is the kind that not even squatters would deign to claim. Borderline squalid. Borderline hazardous to human habitation. The mold spores and asbestos is probably digging him an early grave, everything short of an infestation. On his better days, Simon contemplates tidying up the place before a wave of apathy and scorn bludgeons him over the head. Why bother when he has no one to bring round? 

“Ye could try cleanin’ it up fer me,” Johnny gripes on one of the rare occasions when he spends the night. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s too late and Johnny’s a bit too squiffy from the pub to get home on his own.

He walks barefoot into the kitchen where Simon is rustling up something to eat (mac and cheese that he’ll eat straight from the pot when it’s ready), towel-drying his hair and swaying on his feet from sheer exhaustion. Nearly stumbles right into the wall before catching himself.

“What’s the problem?” Simon asks, drawling the question. 

“There’s a ring o’ grime aroond the tub. Did ye hose off a dog in there?”

He shrugs. “You wanna clean it so bad, you can do it. There’s Pine-Sol under the sink.”

“Ah honestly think we’re gonna need a power washer fer it. The fuckin’ state of this place, Simon…”

“Get in the fuckin’ bed and quit runnin’ your mouth before I decide you’d sleep better on the porch.”

Johnny makes a face and waddles off, murmuring epithets under his breath before launching himself stomach first onto Simon’s bed and snoring before he’s even hit the mattress, his shins half hanging off the end. It can’t be comfortable, but they’ve certainly slept in worse places. 

Simon will readjust him when he joins his boy later, but for now he focuses on taking the pot off the hob and fetching a fork from the cutlery drawer, scooping up a generous first bite. Flares his nostrils when he notices old food still flaked on the fork that he just pulled from the drawer.

Maybe the mutt has a point.

The thing is—

He’d like to say something to you. He’d like for things to go his way for a change. 

But his appetite for violence won’t allow good things to come to him naturally. Always a struggle for survival, conditions worsening until there’s nowhere else to go but up (scrambling up the side of a self-dug hole). He hears it coming like an air raid siren off in the distance. Self-sabotage at its finest. 

He feels little shame for the state of his existence, but it’s hard not to feel some sense of perceived inferiority. His military accolades aside (of which he can’t speak to, given that most were awarded post mortem for obvious reasons), Simon’s working class roots are indivisible from him as a person. When he looks at you, he sees someone who wouldn’t even touch the dirt he was sown and germinated in. 

What could he offer a woman? What could he offer anyone at all? 

His body carries the weight of his life in scar tissue, torn cartilage, and bones that have been welded back into place too many times to count. Theseus’ ship of a man. Simon is aware, distantly, of the things that make him appealing to women, but they’re stacked against the things that make him thoroughly undesirable. His body draws the eyes that his face repels, muscles less enticing when they get a proper look at his ugly mug. Good enough for a fuck but not more than that. 

For a long time now, living has been an exercise in humility. Wanting but never receiving. Senseless violence that never seems to stop, always someone around to perpetuate it. 

Often that person is him. 

On Monday, Simon watches you walk to your car in slacks that cling to your legs, the fabric tightening across your ass when you lower yourself into your car. 

On Tuesday, on a whim or possibly because of brain damage, he calls a professional cleaning service to give him a quote for a detailed deep cleaning. 

The owner charges him double the usual amount, which nearly pisses him off enough to cancel the service altogether, but he lets it go when Johnny begs him to let him pay half (after calling him six times in a row after Simon made the mistake of texting him about it).

It doesn’t change the overall state of the place, but Simon does feel a flicker of pleasant surprise when he comes home to a house that doesn’t smell faintly of mildew. Walls a shade lighter, like years worth of soot has been scrapped off of them. Even the grates on the stove have been scrubbed and cleaned, the inside of the oven also free of grit and grease for once in probably a decade. 

He christens the clean up with a smoke in the bathroom with the window propped open, the early morning noises keeping him company. Ashes his cigarette on the window ledge for once instead of the bathroom floor, the sound of the traffic in the distance keeping him company. 

“Ah cannae wait tae see it,” Johnny enthuses over the phone when Simon finally picks up after three missed calls in a row. “When ah’m back in the city, ah’m comin’ over ASAP.”

Simon’s lips twitch into a slight smirk. “Dunno about that. Might change the locks too.”

Sometimes he says shit just to rile Johnny up. Just to hear the sound of him squawking on the other end of the phone, feathers ruffled. He gets a kick out of taking all that frenetic energy and compressing it, making himself the focal point of Johnny’s restlessness, the recipient of his undivided attention. 

He’s always been selfish with his toys. 

His body is red hot when he finally lays down in bed, cock thickening up and pulsing between his legs. All he can think of is getting you into his bed and pounding you until you come a few times around his knot, until the base of his shaft is a mess of cream and cum, and his chest is scratched up and bloody from your nails. 

The sheets under him are rumpled and hot with his sweat when he takes his cock in hand, tugging himself off until he spills all over his hand and up his chest. Simon stares up at the fan rotating above his head as the cum cools on his stomach, cool air wafting down on him, allowing himself, if only for a moment, to imagine what it would be like to actually have you. 

He doesn’t think he’s going to do it.

His whims are hard to predict though. Quicksilver and fluid; volatile and inconsistent. Worse though are his morals, which fluctuate with his mood like the tides with the moon, pulled back only to rush forward at a moment’s notice. 

Despite the way his chest sometimes burns with the need to follow you home after your shift and force his way in while you’re out for the day, Simon doesn’t let his urges cloud his judgment. Master of self-discipline; jack of all other trades. 

It’s part of what made him such an indispensable operative: his ability to suppress all instincts and wants in service to a higher purpose. 

He’s got rope in a drawer in the booth though. That’s where it gets tricky. Myriad uses for it and none of them good. God must have a bad sense of humour. 

Then one day, you come in a bit too close to your heat. 

Even before you come stumbling out of the elevator, swaying on your feet and barely able to keep yourself upright, your scent is pungent in the garage. When Simon opens the door from the back office to the lot, he stills, every cell in his body briefly freezing. He can’t pinpoint it to any one car in the lot at first, but his instincts and nose point him to yours.

You must’ve mistimed your heat and thought you had more time before it would hit. It’s the only reason you’d show up to your office on the cusp of it, to a building packed with alphas all foaming at the mouth to knot a heat-addled omega. There’s nothing they’d like more than to get their hands on you in this state. 

It’s a mistake you won’t make again. 

He oscillates between anger and hunger, pissed at you for showing up to the office at such a delicate time while his teeth ache something fierce in his mouth. Alpha nature rearing its ugly head again. If you were his, it wouldn’t even be a question—you’d have been home days ago, sequestered away in his place and readying the nest for your heat. 

The elevator dings when it opens, alerting him and drawing his eyes over. Such a small sound for such a momentous occasion. 

Even from a distance, you look a right mess. Eyes heavy lidded and bloodshot. Sweat beading at your hairline. Lips swollen from excessive chewing or blood flow. It doesn’t matter to him. You look good a little messed up anyway, like someone took you apart and forgot to put you back together again. Makes Simon wish it was him that did it.

Then the full, unadulterated scent of your heat slams into him tenfold and every coherent thought comes screeching to a halt. 

Every wistful thought of taking it slow or approaching you first evaporates in a heartbeat. In an instant, he becomes an animal. Eyes tracking your every move. Breath lengthening and deepening to keep you from hearing him coming. 

He doesn’t think he’s going to do it until the booth door opens. 

Simon shuts the door soundlessly behind him, laser focused on the sway of your ass as you pop open the backseat door to toss your bag and belongings in. He moves towards you quickly, covering the distance between the two of you in just a few long strides, practiced at the initial advance. 

This is what he was built for after all—hunting and capturing. Moving silently through the shadows, stalking his target through the thick and waiting for them to move into just the right position. 

Right when you reach your car and open the backseat door—

Throwing your work bag onto the floor, none the wiser that there’s a man at your back moving closer and closer, eyes locked on the jut of your shoulder blades and the arch of your back and—

You don’t put up much of a fight when he forces you into the car and splays you over the backseat, likely too confused and disoriented to vocalize your surprise. He’s stronger than you anyway. When the fight finally snaps into you, it’s too late—you’re splayed across the backseat at an awkward angle and pinned in place by his hand, only a little force needed to keep you down. 

The little dress you’re wearing gets rucked up around your waist and your panties pulled to the side. He unfastens his jeans with one hand and pulls his cock out before wrenching you towards him with one hand on your waist, the friction lifting your dress up the rest of the way until he can nearly see the full line of your back. 

“What—”

You only catch on when his fingers graze your pussy lips and your whole body shudders violently. A thumb splits the seam of your lips, stroking you from slit to asshole, spreading your slick over both holes. 

“Relax,” Simon grumbles when you start to fuss, things slipping out of your mouth like no, wait, stop, who are you?—a bunch of silly prattle. “I’ve got ya, pet.”

“Get off—” you hiss, spitting like an angry cat with its fur all bunched up, and he’d laugh if he wasn’t pushing his thumb into your wet little hole and watching it seize up around the digit. The rest of your tirade comes out in a choked gasp, indignant horror rendering you mute. 

You try to push yourself up onto your elbows and he shoves you back down, making the breath rush out of you. A steady drip of slick wets the seat under you, making the dark fabric glisten, but Simon doesn’t spend too much time focusing on that. 

“You’re not gonna fight after wagging this around,” he growls. 

“I haven’t, I haven’t, I haven’t.”

Liar. He’ll make an honest girl out of you yet.

He pulls his fingers away from your cunt long enough to fist his cock and lift from where it droops between his legs. His cock throbs in his hand as he notches it against your opening, grits his teeth too when the heat of your cunt burns the tip of his cock. 

“Fuck,” Simon grits out, then edges forward again.

Hot as a fucking branding iron. He pulls you back instead of thrusting forward, impaling you on his length like a toy in his hands. In, in, in until suddenly he can’t anymore, at the limits of what your body will allow.

“C’mon, bird, deep breath in,” Simon murmurs when you hiss, hoping you’ll listen. 

As clenched up as you are, it’s almost impossible to fuck you properly. He can barely cram in a few inches before finding you too tight to push the rest of the way in. It’s enough to make do though. Enough to draw his hips back and thrust in again, fucking you with just the first few inches of his cock, your toes curling and flexing with every thrust. 

“You’re—you’re inside me?” you gasp.

The laugh comes from his chest unbidden, disbelief plucking it out of him. “Yeah, pet. I am.”

Your groan is torn from your throat. “Oh god.”

He nearly spirals watching your cunt stretch around the width of his cock. Fits him like a fucking glove, and though it’s been awhile, Simon doesn’t remember it ever feeling like this. Intense. A thick blanket of heat weighing down on him, the inside of your car humid, the combination of your and his breath making the windows fog up, the car itself shaking with every thrust. 

It registers at the periphery of his consciousness that he didn’t even bother to put on a condom. There might be one buried at the back of his wallet or in a drawer somewhere back home, but even if Simon were to look down and see one on the floorboard of the car, it wouldn’t sway him one iota. He knows he’s clean, and whether you are or not doesn’t matter because—

He wants it this way with a fervor that borders on irrational. 

His hips drive forward in quick, short strokes, barely sinking in halfway before pulling back out, thoughts of shucking you open like an oyster and leaving a pearl behind stirring at the back of his mind. His wants are as ugly as everything about him. 

Simon doesn’t think about whether it’s a bad idea or not. Impulsive as always, he lets the thing that has become him over countless years guide his hand, staring as it wraps around the front of your throat and lifts you up, your hands scrambling under you for purchase.

Lean down. His mouth is salivating. What he wants isn’t right but—

God, he wants it. 

His wants outpace his self-control for once though. The devil on his shoulder (in his soul, in his blood, that which was curled up with him since birth, a remnant of the father, a seed waiting to germinate in bloodsoaked soil) guides his head down into the crook of your neck where your mating gland sits, your blood pumping frantically right beneath it. 

Your throat pulses when his canine nicks your gland and when you swallow, he can feel it against his teeth.

So easy, like slicing through butter—

(whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat—oh my God, no)

Your voice in his ear, fluttering like a hummingbird. 

And then, blood—a taste so familiar that he doesn’t even notice it at first. Only when it washes down his throat does Simon realize what he’s done.

He comes back to himself with his teeth buried in your shoulder, blood in his mouth and a buzzing sound in his head. Cock still only half-sheathed in your pussy, squeezing around him like a vice, your voice a dull roar in his ear. 

A phantom presence undulates in the back of his mind, the first presence apart from himself in well over fifteen years. It twists and turns like a fish out of water, flopping around on its belly. It’s never been here before. It’s never been out of itself before and it’s terrified. It’s scared of what that means. 

The flesh squelches when he pulls his teeth out, your ensuing gasp wet and watery like the blood dripping from his mouth onto your back. Little droplets colouring your dress red where they land. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs to himself, staring down at the bite mark on your shoulder. 

His imagined future suddenly switches course, a whole new world being terraformed before his eyes. Everything different even while everything stays the same.

At the base of his cock, his knot plumps up, filling with blood. When his cock glides back in, it presses fruitlessly against your opening, too big to slip in. You whimper when you feel it nudging at your entrance. 

He has a really big knot, even soft; too big for you to take comfortably, if at all. Hard though, it’s another beast altogether. 

Simon doesn’t need all that though. Not now, at least. Plans are already forming piecemeal in his head, colliding against each other as he huffs through short, shallow thrusts, mindlessly seeking his release. The sound of your squelching pussy echoes through the underground lot, unmistakable to anyone else that might still be milling around at this time of night. 

What’s done is done. There’s no reason to bank regrets to cash in some day in the future because the future is already here. It’s here happening right in front of him and Simon has never looked back before.

Your pleasure flickers in the back of his head, like picking up a radio frequency previously undetected. Suddenly there. It’s almost his too; settles into the base of his spine along with his own need to come. Thin like a will-o-wisp. 

What he wouldn’t give to sink to the root, feel that wet grip all around him, squeezing his shaft extra tight. 

You keen and beg him through gasped breaths when Simon tries to force a hand under your belly to play with your clit. “Wait, wait, wait—too much—”

It’s tempting to just ignore you and keep rubbing your swollen clit, but he huffs and backs off instead, massaging his hands up the sides of your waist again. “Alright, alright.”

His thumbs press into the divots of your back almost punishingly hard, sure to leave a bruise there. Squeezes your waist extra hard when he nears his end, his vision tunneling on the sight of his cock splitting you in half, soaked with your combined juices. 

He catches your eye when you twist your head to look over your shoulder at him and that’s what sets him off. That desperate, helpless look in your glazed over eyes. Desire so vivid that for a second he can almost trick himself into thinking that this is what you want—

Thick ropes of cum paint the inside of your pussy. His knot butts against your entrance with every offbeat thrust, the base of it frothy white with cum, yours and his mixing together. It’s almost painful to have nothing wrapped around it, but it’s a pain he’s grown used to, never having knotted anything better than his own hand. 

This should be enough for him, most of the fat length of his cock snug in your pussy and his knot wet with your juices. He shouldn’t want more than this. It should be enough for him to slide his hand over your belly and feel the slightest bulge.  

His gums itch when he licks his lips.

It’s not enough though. 

When Simon pulls out, you shudder one last time, a string of stuttered curses slipping from your mouth. Foul-mouthed little thing. 

“Holy shit,” you wheeze. “What the fuck?”

Just that nearly makes his lips twitch.

He drags you back out of the car just enough so that your feet touch the floor, giving him enough room to right your underwear and readjust your dress. Dazed and confused, you sway on your feet before he catches you by the waist, his dick still out and spent against his thigh. 

“You need a breather before we leave?” Simon asks.

You don’t seem to absorb his words right away, too lost in your own head. The wound on your shoulder is still raw and livid. There’s gauze in the first aid kit in the booth that might help, but that requires more cooperation from you than he thinks you’ll be willing to give once you find your bearings. 

“Leave?” you repeat. 

He nods, smoothing your dress down. “Can’t be ‘ere too long. Already too close to your ‘eat.”

That brings you crashing back down to reality, the comedown so hard that Simon has to hold you upright when your knees buckle.

“My heat,” you repeat, confused at first before it dawns on you. 

“S’right, bird. Did ya forget?”

Obviously not, but he gets his laughs out of the little things. 

You flinch when your hand comes up to touch your shoulder. “Oh my God. Oh my God, what did you do?”

Your panic draws over him like a cloak. He can feel it somehow viscerally real but distinct from his own emotions. If he were a weaker man, it might trigger his own panic, but he hasn’t been that kind of man in a long, long time. Too much has happened since he was that boy—Roba, Mexico, Makarov, the Channel Tunnel. He’s lived a hundred lives in that time. 

So when your bloodstained hand moves to his chest and you start to struggle again, Simon knows how to handle it. 

The cherry blossoms have been in bloom for quite some time now. Petals freckle the road bordering the park on the drive home, but they vanish in a flurry as he travels farther away from the city centre, creeping into the outskirts of London. 

Moonlight like a runlet of white satin moths light the way home. It reminds him a lot of his childhood home. Spongy, mossy bogs where white moths feed on sallow and poplar, and the water barely announces its presence. Old remnants of cocoons spun into the reeds. A bosky landscape that, as a child, Simon spent hours trudging through to escape the turmoil of his home life, coming home in the evenings barefoot with his wet sneakers held in both hands. 

The memory fades when he takes a necessary turn leading him home and passes a squad car with its lights off going the other way. He’s careful not to make eye contact, taking another unnecessary turn in order to get out of their visual field. 

He’s aware of the predicament he’s in with you tied up in the backseat of your own car. 

Lucky for Simon though, it’s Friday. Meaning that unless you had plans scheduled for the weekend, no one will expect to see your face until Monday, giving him plenty of time to figure out what to do with you. And given that you’re on the brink of your heat—your scent absolutely saturating the inside of the car, too strong for him to risk cracking open a window—he likely has even longer than that. 

In the backseat of the car, you squirm around and howl through duct taped lips. Another reason for him to keep the windows up. 

He cranks up the volume on the radio to drown out the sound of your whines. Bit of a pity, since it’s not like Simon has a problem with them. There are still cars around though, and for a little thing you’ve sure got a set of lungs on you. He’d be almost impressed if it weren’t inconvenient. 

Densely populated boroughs give way to sparser and sparser neighbourhoods. Neatly manicured trees swapped for dense, overgrown bushes and trees, branches leaning over street lights and half-obscuring stop signs. He navigates the streets by muscle memory alone, not paying attention to the street signs or addresses. 

Simon lives in a see-nothing-say-nothing neighbourhood. No one on either side of his house, both vacant for longer than he’s resided here. He knows even this place won’t escape gentrification one day, but for now prices are low and privacy is absolute. None of his neighbours want to know his business any more than he wants to know theirs. 

There’s no one else on the street when he parks in front of his house. Not unusual, but he welcomes the privacy nevertheless. 

The scent of your heat comes billowing out of the car when Simon opens the backseat door. Thick, rich, and musky. 

His hackles go up instantly, territorial instincts lifting from the silt of his being. The street is deserted, but that doesn’t stop the influx of paranoia and suspicion. Anyone could be lurking around any corner. His paranoia comes from a place of truth, but it’s displaced from its original context—this is his home, not foreign territory. 

Still, he’d be happier with you inside as quickly as possible. Too many open windows and alphas that might be stupid enough to challenge him, mate bond or not. 

He lifts you into his arms from the backseat and tosses you over his shoulder, lips twitching when your breath comes out in a whoosh. The car beeps behind him when he locks it with the keys he snatched from your work bag and it’s a quick walk into his house, his chest only settling when the door is shut and locked behind him. 

In the house, he deposits you on the couch and kneels in front of you, the breadth of his body splitting your knees when he situates himself between them. Hard not to take liberties with you considering what you are to him now. It doesn’t even occur to him until your brow furrows and you try to pull your knees into your chest, forcing him to plant both hands on your upper thighs to pull them back down. 

“You gonna be good if I take it off?” Simon asks, referring to the tape on your mouth. 

You nod vigorously, so eager to get the tape off that you’ll agree to just about anything, even if you have no intention of keeping your word. He can feel that duplicitous instinct at the back of his mind. 

He wonders if you’ve begun to feel him in your head yet. 

The tape pulls your skin up with it as Simon peels it out, a few hairs coming with it. You grimace and wince through the pain, eyes flitting around the living room, scanning every inch and looking for any way out. Look all you want. It won’t matter in a couple of hours. 

The first thing you do is scream at the top of your lungs for help, erupting into a coughing fit when your vocal chords are pushed to their limits.

“Heeeeeeeeeelllllppppppp!” you screech, hoping that someone in one of the adjacent houses will hear your scream and come to your aid. “Someone help me pleaaaaseeeee!”

It’s disappointing but not surprising. Still, though his upper lip curls at the sudden burst of noise, he doesn’t so much as flinch, still as stone in front of you as you scream your head off. 

When you pause to take a breath, panting from the effort, he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You done?” 

Flummoxed by his nonchalance, you almost don’t know how to respond, stunned into silence for a moment. Then you start up again, louder than the first time, shrieking like a trapped bird looking for help. 

Despite the relative privacy that this neighbourhood affords him, Simon doesn’t feel like pushing his luck. His hand snaps out viper-quick to cover your mouth, trapping the rest of your screams in his palm and making your eyes bulge with shock. 

“Quit screaming or I put the tape back on,” he says, blunt as ever. No sympathy for the fact that he kidnapped you and brought you to a second location. Of course you’d be scared; of course you’d be panicked. 

It’s not that Simon doesn’t understand your reaction, he just doesn’t want to deal with it. His reservoirs of patience have been all used up in holding himself back these past few weeks. 

He waits until you nod before pulling his hand away. 

For a minute, all you can do is stare at him, eyes tracing over his face and lingering on all the ugly bits. The scar from his cleft lip, the burns around his temple pulling back his hairline, the crooked lump of his nose (put back in place one too many times), the slope of his brow over his eyes, almost Neanderthalic. 

“Who are you?” Though it’s not the first thing you’ve ever said to him, it’s the first time you’ve ever spoken directly to him, face to face, no screen in between you to dampen your scent. 

Your voice rushes over him like a wave, taking him under when it curls over the other side and kisses the water. Fills his lungs with salt water. Even hoarse from screaming, it’s still the loveliest sound he’s ever heard.

“We’ve met,” he says curtly. Annoyed that you haven’t felt the same fixation with him. You look terrified to disagree with him though he can see it in your eyes. “I work in the building.”

Recognition flickers across your face. “…You’re the parking attendant. You helped me get back into the building that one time.” 

So he hasn’t completely escaped your attention. 

Simon grunts instead of answering. 

You glance around the room again. “…Where am I?”

“My house,” he answers. 

His ease in answering your questions must throw you for a loop. You hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming, but what would he gain in lying to you?

The gravity of the situation isn’t lost on you though. On your own, miles from home, fucked and mated by a man who must have been watching you for weeks, if not months. Simon doubts you remember how long he’s worked in the parking lot. 

Worse yet, you’re on the brink of your heat, maybe a few hours away from it breaking. It’s a wonder you left your house at all today. You would’ve been smarter just to call out, stay holed up in your flat until it hit and you slipped comfortably into your heat. 

But you made your bed. Now you have to lie in it. 

“You’ve ruined everything…” you whimper, trembling fingers feeling around the bite mark on your shoulder. 

That pisses him off. Stings his pride. As if he were such a piece of shit that you couldn’t fathom being tied to him.

“Had a boyfriend or something?” he grunts dismissively. 

Whatever you had before doesn’t phase him. Boyfriend, girlfriend, husband. None of it matters with that mark on your shoulder, the thing tying you indelibly to him. Still, he asks knowing that it’ll piss him off if you answer in the affirmative, though he can’t smell anyone else’s scent on you. 

Your upper lip curls at the question. “No.”

“Good.”

“I just didn’t want to be—” You can hardly bring yourself to say it. You pause, biting your lip. “I don’t—I don’t even know who you are.”

“Name’s Simon.”

You look at him like asking for his name never even occurred to you. Less than impressed. 

“Do you even know what you did?” you ask, tone slipping from disbelief to disdain. 

The cheap shot at his intelligence barely gets on his nerves though. He’s used to people using words when they look at him and realize that physical violence won’t get them anywhere. 

“Nah, bird,” Simon drawls, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. “What’d I do?”

You balk at that, clearly assuming that he wouldn’t call your bluff, that he’d have some excuse for biting you and tying you to him. 

The amusement in his eyes must be obvious though because you scowl when you catch it. “So you messed up our lives on purpose?” 

“Wasn’t planning on it. You’re the one that showed up to work right before a heat.”

The humiliation is plain on your face. “I had—I had a deadline. I didn’t think anyone would even notice.”

He shrugs. “I noticed.”

An understatement if there ever was one. It’s been months since he’s had a thought that didn’t somehow circle back to you. 

You scowl. “It’s not the twentieth century anymore. Omegas don’t have to be housebound for the month of their heat.” 

All Simon can do is stare at you. There’s a sweat building at your hairline and he can see the pulse in your neck, your impending heat evident in the way you hold yourself—so close to the cusp that a gust of wind would send you right over. It wouldn’t take much. 

It could be as easy as grabbing himself through his pants and watching your eyes glaze over. He doesn’t have to be pretty to turn you on. He knows now from first hand experience that you’ll get wet for a big dick. 

“Lot of omegas go to work without being slags about it.”

Shock ripples across your face, followed closely by a rage that makes his balls tighten. “You’re a piece of shit.”

Piece of shit is putting it lightly. He’s the bird picking the flesh off the carcass with the sun-bleached bones. 

“Make your nest,” Simon grunts instead, leaving you to your own devices.

“I’m not making my nest here. I have one at home.” You sound outraged at the very thought of making a nest in his house.

“Don’t got much of a choice, bird. It’s here or nowhere because you ain’t leavin’.”

It’s not a joke or a threat either. This far from home, you won’t make it back before your heat breaks, and Simon sees the moment that realization washes over you, your fate set in stone. 

You don’t much appreciate being made to use the meagre belongings in his house for your nest. It’s a bit of a shame. He should’ve taken you back to your place instead where you likely already had a nest that you’d spent the last week labouring over, but he couldn’t trust you not to get your neighbor's attention. 

There’s not much in the way of materials for you to use either. Old coats of his and musty blankets stored in the chest at the foot of his bed. You don’t even touch the mattress. He watches you sniff a sweater of his and grimace, tossing it into another corner of the room far away from your makeshift nest. 

He hovers nearby while you build your nest even though he can feel your annoyance as real as if it were his own. That’s not his problem though. You have your instincts to follow and he has his. 

He inspects the meagre items in his fridge and pantry while you fuss around in the other room—hardly enough to see just him through the weekend, never mind an omega about to go into heat—and scowls, pissed at the thought of being found lacking as an alpha. If he’d been smarter, he would’ve seen this coming a mile away, but instead he let himself believe that he could keep his greed under lock and key and failed to prepare for the inevitable. 

In the other room, you whimper, your scent suddenly gone sour. 

He pauses. Lifts his head and sniffs the air.

“Nothing to do with you, pet,” Simon says, raising his voice loud enough to carry to the other room. 

You don’t say anything in response to his words, but the tension lifts from his shoulders when your scent goes back to normal. 

The weight of responsibility sits heavy on his shoulders. He’s learning in real time that taking sharp corners means skirting sharp edges. That an abrupt change can’t just happen seamlessly. 

Choices have consequences. 

Even scared and on edge, your presence fills the house with a kind of levity that Simon hasn’t enjoyed in decades, if ever, omega sweet scent clouding the air. It’s disorienting. Like barreling down a dark tunnel without knowing what could possibly be on the other side. 

Simon’s blood pressure spikes when your scent changes, a new peppery note that makes him salivate. 

You don’t come crawling to him though and that ticks him off. Already fucked and mated you and you still won’t cooperate; still giving him a hard time despite the work he’s put in. He stalks through the house and finds you huddled under a blanket in your nest, shivering and sweating, gaze desperate when you turn to find him haunting the doorway. 

He tilts his head to one side to get a better look at you. “What’re ya doing on your own in there, bird?”

You pull the blanket tighter around you, the whole thing wrapped around your head and body and only exposing a sliver of your face. 

“H-hot,” you mumble. “Leave me alone.”

“Gotta take the blanket off if you’re ‘ot, love.” 

He feels like he’s approaching a skittish animal, one that might lope off into the woods at any moment. Only there’s nowhere for you to run. There’s nowhere for you to go, and even if you could figure out a way to duck around him, you wouldn’t have the energy for a chase, weighed down by the exhaustion and mindlessness of heat. 

A few steps until he’s close enough and Simon drops to his knees, reaching out to cup the ankle sticking out of your blanket cocoon. You flinch when his hands touch your skin, colder than your scorching, sweaty flesh. 

The little fuss you put up as he pulls the blanket off you doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He’s single minded in his goal of getting you naked, tossing the blanket off the mattress even when you whine and lean over the mattress to retrieve it, and going for the straps of your dress in his haste to pull you back to him. 

It doesn’t do much. The dress gets trapped around at your biceps instead of coming down, too tight around the chest and arms to come off that way. Simon realizes his mistake when you start scowling and bitching—a bunch of lip that goes in one ear and out the other because he doesn’t have the patience to deal with it.

“Fuck, you’re burning up, pet,” Simon mutters instead of responding to your grumbling. 

There is real concern there, though it’s buried under an avalanche of desire so thick that it nearly suffocates him. He’s even been with an omega in heat before. Never been close enough to an omega to be given that right. 

And now, by his own hand, he has one to call his own. His to take care of and see through their heat.

You bat his hand away when it gets too close to your stomach. “You’re cold.”

Simon scowls, irked. “‘Course I am—you’re runnin’ a fever, bird.”

“Don’t wanna be touched,” you gripe. 

When he tries to crawl his hand up your shirt for a second time, you smack him again and his temper finally snaps.

“That does it,” he snarls and snatches you by the waist.

Wrestling you to the ground is a kind of tauromachy, only he’s the one huffing through his nose like a bull when he splays you out on your back and then turns you over, forcing your arms over your head and pinning your wrists together with one hand.

“Get—off of me—”

Pinned to the ground on your belly, you flail wildly and scream his ear off while he yanks up your dress again and works your knickers down your legs, nearly getting a foot to the face for his trouble. 

“Should be thanking me for getting your ass off the street,” Simon spits out, increasingly annoyed by the way you won’t just let him between your thighs all nice and sweet. “Not even making you do any of the work.”

He’s so magnanimous that he doesn’t even bring up the fact that you’ve been his from the start. So forgiving despite the fact that you should’ve recognized his scent at the very start of it all and approached him before giving him no choice but to go down this road. 

His arm is a bar across the small of your back that lays heavy as he plants his face between your thighs and eats you from behind, the bridge of his nose wedged against your perineum and wet with slick. He could cover the whole thing with his mouth if he wanted to. 

For as many birds as he’s fucked in his past, this isn’t something he usually does. Gets little out of it, like kissing in that way. For some reason though, he wants it with you; wants it with an ache that makes his stomach cramp, shoulders pulled up to his ears and traps all bunched up around his neck.

He moves on from your pussy, worming his tongue into your clenched up asshole. 

“No, don’t do that!” you gasp, reaching behind you as if you grab his hair and yank him away, only for your fingernails to scratch at his scorn scalp in vain. 

You make the mistake of trying to push his head away and Simon snarls, the sound so low and guttural that you freeze when you hear it, the vibrations against your skin making your toes curl.

“Move your hand,” he growls. 

You grab the blanket underneath you instead, curling your hands into fists and doing anything to avoid reaching back and pushing his face away again. 

Much better. He likes how embarrassed and ashamed you get when he runs his tongue over your tight little hole, not used to having someone touch you there. It makes him feel powerful, dominant over you. Like taking your walls down brick by brick and then building you back up with him on the inside. 

Though you don’t try to push him away anymore, you’re still a bit too petulant for his tastes. When you whine about it too much, he yanks your hips up and smacks your pussy with the meat of his hand to get you to shut up, your whole body flinching with the impact.

“Ow!” you yelp, a high, reedy sound that splits him down the center. 

“You’re givin’ me a hard fuckin’ time, pet,” Simon grumbles. “Stay still.”

“You’re a—fucking asshole!” you holler. 

Many people have called him worse, and none of them had his tongue on their asshole. He supposes he can give you a little leeway there. 

It quivers under his tongue when he flicks it over the wrinkled skin again, clenching up tight as if to pull away from him. Shy little thing. 

The taste of your skin is as good as your scent—a little saltier, but decadent. He laves his tongue over it again and again, eating your ass out until your pussy leaks like a loose spigot, the scent of it so enticing that he nearly gives in and swipes his tongue over your swollen lips. 

That’s not what you need though. 

Still a little gaped from taking his cock earlier, you take two fingers with ease, stretching beautifully around the widest part of his knuckle. It’s up there with the seven wonders of the world; Simon would choose this over Rome any day. 

“You’re gonna take my knot this time, alright?” he murmurs into the underside of your ass, sinking his teeth in when you garble something contradictory at first. “Say yes, bird.”

“Fuck—” you choke out, recanting your previous words, wound up like a clockwork motor. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

He skips straight to four fingers when your hips start to wriggle, amused by the way your thighs tense and your breath goes ragged, sweat dripping down your back. Your hips wiggle and his fingers sink in deeper until he’s practically cupping your pussy in his palm. 

“Little bit more—c’mon, birdie, almost there,” Simon coaxes, fingers plunging in and out of the pretty quince between your legs, speeding up when he notices your thighs begin to shake. 

You gush all over his fingers when you come, your upper body slumping over, settling deeper into lordosis. Fingers slick with cum when he pulls them out, the fluid webbing between his fingers when he pulls them apart to look at the mess you made.

He finally gives you his cock after he’s gotten you so wet and pliant that he could fist you if he was so inclined. His cock throbs at the thought; that’s a thought for a later day though, when he can afford to take his time with you. 

This time when Simon settles behind you, he doesn’t wait for you to relax before pressing all the way in, trusting his own instincts over your frantic pleading. It’s a smooth glide in, wet channel stretching around his shaft with the memory of his size from earlier, easier this time even though you still swear through clenched teeth and shake when he nearly bottoms out.

“Shit…there we go,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead veins straining. 

In all his life, he’s never had the same pussy twice. Never cared enough about someone to go back for seconds. And now he has one that’ll last him the rest of his life. 

It’s rougher this time than in the backseat of your car. Messy and brutal. He fucks you fast and deep, nearly bottoming out with every thrust, panting like he’s been running with the bulls in Pamplona, blond tufts of hair on his chest matted with sweat. Your little grunted pants only spur him on.

He regrets not getting his mouth on your cunt before feeding you his cock. It’s so wet that it squelches every time his hips shuttle forward, slick leaking down the sides of his cock and pooling under you in a wet puddle on the mattress. His fault for not putting down a towel.  

When he glances down, he sees your back hole still shiny with his spit and, in a moment of inspiration, wedges a thumb into it to keep it nice and spread. Better to just train you now while your body is so receptive, given that he intends on fucking every hole of yours before the week’s over. 

“Coulda just asked for a fuck instead of doin’ all this,” Simon grunts through each thrust. “Wouldn’t’ve turned ya down.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t—”

He snaps his hips forward. “Yeah, you did. Filthy fuckin’ bird.” The sound of laboured breaths and wet, squelching pussy fills the room. “Been wantin’ this, ‘aven’t ya? Wantin’ me? That why you came waggin’ this wet cunt around?”

He’s desperate enough to trick his mind into believing that. The faintest flickering chance that it wasn’t just him sitting behind a booth and pining for what he couldn’t have. That maybe you’d been hoping and waiting for him to come to you instead, all coy and shy about it.

“No, no, I swear,” you gasp, turning your head to the side and looking up at him with your big, watery eyes. 

“Yeah, ya did, birdie.”

He has to squeeze a finger in beside his cock to help stretch you enough to take his knot, and it’s a miracle that he eventually works it in. It takes some effort; time. Your back is slick with sweat, tense as a steel pole when he finally works it in, walls febrile and thin around the swollen mass of his knot, a single continuous wail ripping from your throat. 

“Big, innit?” he asks rhetorically when he’s got you on the end of it and struggling to form words through soundless gasps for air. 

The way you gulp in your breath says it all. Eyes probably wide and bulging if only he had a mirror to watch your expressions in. He’ll have to remember that for later. 

It’s still good like this though. Draped over you, the pudge of his lower belly pressed against the small of your back, one hand on the mattress beside you and one clutching your hip to hold you in place. 

When he drops his hand between your thighs to jiggle your clit, your inner walls squeeze around his knot and his brain nearly leaks out of his ears. His cockhead nudges against the firm, spongy opening of your cervix, and you mewl like all kittenlike and sweet.  

“Gonna come, pet?” Simon rasps. 

“I think I’m—think I’m gonna pass out,” you admit, practically slurring your words and Simon barely keeps from collapsing on top of you and fucking your brains out, smothering you under his weight until your words become reality. 

It wouldn’t be enough to make him stop; would probably egg him on more than anything to have a soft, pliant body under him taking his cock without trying to squirm away. His knot throbs at the thought and he lets himself slip into the daydream, imagining you prone and unmoving under him. 

One day he’ll have you like that. Middle of the night, moonlight streaming in through the window in silver ribbons, your legs akimbo on the bed and his body between them, monstrously large over your slumbering form. An ugly brute with no business plunging his big, filthy cock into such a pretty, perfect fairy doll. 

He leans down, pressing a kiss into the back of your head, almost tender for what he’s doing to your pussy. “S’alright if you have to; I’ll take care of ya.”

A few more strums of his fingers over your slippery wet clit and you go tight and taut, coming almost violently, head lolling forward with the force of it, practically burying the crown of your head into the pillow. Maybe you do pass out for a minute or two. 

Just the thought of that sends him freefalling over the edge, emptying his balls into the warm clench of your cunt, swollen knot throbbing with each spurt. His knot barely keeps it all plugged in, so much cum flooding your womb from weeks of pent up lust. 

Indescribable pleasure crawls up his spine and winds around to the front through his ribcage. Too good for him to waste his time thinking about what he’ll do if his knot does what it’s meant to do and it takes. His cock pulses again at the thought, another wave of pleasure rushing through him. Jesus fuck. 

He’s hunched over you for a while before it starts to slough off, thighs tensed on either side of yours. Balls drawn up tight and then slowly relaxing. Finally aware of the sweat pouring down his back and dripping from his chest. Muscles relaxing one after another. There’s an ache in his low back that likely won’t come out until he’s stretched it out, but it’s worth the pain to feel the way your back presses into him with every laboured inhale as you catch your breath. 

Simon shushes you when you whine something about being full. “You can take it; you’re alright.”

“It hurts,” you whine, a touch dramatic for his tastes. 

“Supposed to hurt, bird.”

Got no choice, is what he wants to say. It’s always going to hurt with him. 

He keeps one hand on your belly to ensure you stay pressed up against him when he rolls onto his side, wary of you trying to pull yourself off his cock and hurting yourself in the process. The skin at your entrance is stretched taut around his knot, and though he’s never been a particularly gentle fuck, the idea of something ripping where you’re most delicate sets his teeth on edge. 

Your forehead is still hot to the touch when Simon checks. And it will be for a while, your heat coming and going like the sun hidden briefly behind clouds before reappearing again. He’ll have to savour these moments of tranquility when they come. 

The moment of stillness is broken when you open your mouth to say, “You know, you could’ve just…talked to me.”

He’s not used to being scolded. It’s been a long time since anyone had that kind of authority over him or reason to talk to him that way, longer still since he’s taken anyone’s words to heart. 

“Talkin’ to you now, ain’t I?” Simon asks rhetorically. You huff and he can feel the movement of your back against his chest and it tickles something in him that’s still somehow alive, even after all these years. Even after everything. 

“Not the same thing,” you mumble, cheek pressed against the pillow under your head. 

‘Course it’s not the same thing, he wants to say, but compromise is essential for survival. You can’t tell a rock not to be a rock. Or a junkyard dog not to bite. 

“Tell you what,” he rasps. He drags the hand moulded to your belly up your chest until it’s nestled between your breasts, cupping a tit. Not meaning anything particularly sexual by it. There’ll be a time for that later when your heat crests again and your eyes go filmy, any chance at a coherent conversation swept away. “When we’re done ‘ere…we can ‘ave a go at it. Pretend I asked you out first. Make a game out of it.”

He can feel your incertitude in the stillness of your body. “…What would be the point of that?”

Simon very nearly chuckles. Very nearly says that you alone are the purpose in anything. That everything else in his life has been an aimless meandering for some kind of meaning, all of which has been in vain. All of which has left him scarred and bloody and beaten and battered, and now, for the first time in his life, someone has come along and shown him how pointless all of what came before was. 

But that seems like too many words for now. 

“No point, bird. Jus’ to make you feel better about it.”

A fine layer of dust on the windowsill reminds Simon that he needs to call the cleaners again. 

It’s been at least a day since he brought you home, maybe longer. The sky outside is lighter now than when he brought you in, creamy with light filtered through the clouds, the sun somewhere in pieces behind them. 

His heart has always sat deep in the valley where the cold sinks. Sangfroid. Cold-blooded. He’s been called many things in his life, but never deserving. Maybe he still isn’t deserving of anything good. All he knows is how to take and how to spoil. 

Today though, his heart isn’t as heavy as it’s always been, and a faint voice breathes softly at the back of his head. 

You haven’t been asleep for more than a half hour when Simon goes into the living room to make a call. 

Price answers on the second ring. “Lieutenant?” 

He sighs. “Can’t keep calling me that.”

“Force of habit.” Simon isn’t thick. Price uses language like he’s casting bait; like if he says the magic word enough times, Simon will give up this bid for freedom and come crawling back with his tail tucked between his legs, ready to sign away his life again. He knows that Price would love to have him back under his command. “What’s the matter? You never call this late.”

“Gonna need a raincheck on our drink tomorrow.” His eyes shift to the bedroom door, darkness spilling from the crack where he left it open. “Something came up.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line and then a rough chuckle. “Oh, did it?”

His skin around his eyes crinkles as he stares into the darkness just beyond the bedroom door. If he quiets his breathing, he can almost hear the faint, soft sounds of your snores from the other room. 

“Yeah. It did.”

[shuafiles]

making the bed [c.sc]

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | you and seungcheol’s marriage is hanging on by a thread. separate rooms, broken conversations, and barely any contact, it's clear that what you once had is slipping away. desperate for a second chance, you both turn to couples therapy, but when intimacy—or the lack of it—becomes the topic of conversation, everything changes.

PAIRING | husband!seungcheol x afab!reader

CONTENT | nonidol!seungcheol, angst, bad relationships, miscommunication, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

WORDS | 4.9k

A/N | quick disclaimer i know nothing about therapy sessions, so there may be inaccuracies. i loooved writing this ! i hope u enjoy it as much as i did, pls pls pls leave feedback if u can. ty <3 not proofread !!!

you woke up to yet another feeling of cold sheets beside you. the sun peeking through the curtains, the cool breeze of air conditioning meeting your skin. you shivered at the sensation. you patted seungcheol’s side of the bed, knowing you would be disappointed yet again. your eyes fluttered open, the sight of neatly tucked sheets on the opposite side of the bed made your heart heavy. as if he hadn’t slept there at all.

for months now, your marriage had a cloud looming over it. love that was once warm had grown cold and silent, reduced to taking care of household necessities and meaningless small talk. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt comforted by your husband of three years. and even if you did, the memory wouldn’t bring any comfort.

seungcheol’s career was at its peak. he was a few steps closer to getting promoted to a higher position at the firm he worked at. of course, along with this almost promotion, he had to sacrifice spending time with you. he was never home most days of the week. and if he were home, he would instead be resting and catching up on whatever sports he watched on tv.

needless to say, you were getting tired of that routine. you felt lonely. you tried to keep yourself busy with work or even joining a pilates class, but every corner reminded you of how much you missed your husband. the sight of other wives being picked up from work or how some husbands would join their wives for workouts. the feeling was gnawing at your chest.

you and seungcheol didn’t fight. in fact, you barely even talked. you resorted to cooking his favorite meals–which were mostly piling up in the fridge because he was never home–and steaming his suits for him. the silence that gathered in your home was louder than any argument could ever be.

it was strange, living together, yet he felt farther than when he went on his business trips.

you loved seungcheol. you were so in love with him that the thought of losing him terrified you. but sometimes you wonder if love alone was enough to hold your marriage together. you often thought about what went wrong, questioning if you ever did something to make him lose interest in you.

you sighed, pulling the covers off you to prepare for the day. after showering and brushing your teeth, you headed to the kitchen to make lunch. the silent air greeting you as you walked through your shared apartment. you decided to make coffee for your husband, even if deep down you knew it would just grow cold. you wanted to show your affection for him somehow.

you took a sip of coffee from your cup, the bitterness lingering longer than usual. you glanced at the clock, seeing it was almost time for your therapy appointment.

it was your idea to attend couples’ therapy, seeing it as a last resort to salvage your crumbling marriage. when you first suggested it to seungcheol, he was hesitant and weary about the idea of running to another person about your problems. but seeing that it would mean a lot to you, and he didn’t want to put up a fight, he agreed to give it a try.

you hadn’t seen seungcheol since the previous morning when he hastily left for work. bidding you goodbye with a tired smile when he left you alone in the kitchen. a small part of you was worried he had forgotten about the appointment, not wanting to be disappointed, so you decided to send him a text.

wifey <3: hi, just wanted to remind you about our appointment at 2 pm

you stared at the screen, fingers dancing anxiously as you awaited his response.

cheolie <3: yea, i'll meet u there

that was it. no greeting, no apology for not coming home the night before. you pursed your lips at his response. feeling somewhat disappointed with his nonchalance. you convinced yourself that he was preoccupied with his career, too busy to send you a proper response. but nevertheless you decided to brush it off, tucking your phone in your bag as you got ready to head out.

when you arrived at the clinic, you couldn’t help but glance around the waiting area to find a glimpse of your husband. but to your dismay, you were the first one to arrive. you took a seat in one of the empty chairs, scrolling mindlessly through your phone in an attempt to ignore the tightening feeling in your chest.

exactly a minute before the clock struck 2, the doors swung open, and seungcheol walked in. his hair was messy, bags surrounded his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. he looked like hell, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was affecting him more than it was affecting you. his eyes landed on you and he made his way towards you, sinking in the seat beside you.

“hey.” he said softly, eyes barely meeting yours. hearing his voice reminded you how much you missed him.

“hi.” your eyes scanning him. you heart fluttered at the proximity between the two of you. you weren’t sure whether you were just touch deprived or you just missed your husband too much–it was probably a mix of both–but the thought of having him close to you made your head slightly dizzy. your mouth opened to speak but decided against it. you wanted to tell him that you were glad he made it and how much it mattered to you. but words felt too heavy to speak, so you enjoyed the silent company he provided instead.

the therapist’s door opened, and a nurse emerged, calling his and yours’ last name. you both stood up, walking inside the room side-by-side, hands almost grazing each other.

you and seungcheol settled on the couch in front of the therapist. she offered you a soft smile, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“hi, mr. and mrs. choi. how are you two feeling today?” she asked, her tone gently with a hint of curiosity.

your eyes shifted to seungcheol, wanting to see if he would speak first. he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “it’s been… a busy week.” he let out, eyes glancing between you and the therapist.

your lips formed into a frown, fingers fiddling with each other. “it has been tough. recently i’ve been feeling like we’ve been living separate lives despite sharing the same space.” you forced yourself to speak, the words falling out of your mouth before you could even comprehend them. “i’m afraid that if we let it happen for too long, we might lose each other in the process.”

you could feel seungcheol’s gaze on you, his once tired eyes growing soft from taking you in. he could tell you were extremely upset, your lips quivering and your hands playing with one another–which you only did when you were visibly upset. he wanted to reach for your hand, to provide you with comfort. but his cowardness was taking over him.

she leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. “i see. this must be incredibly difficult for both of you.” her eyes flickered between the two of you. “if you both want to reconnect, we need to address the emotional and physical barrier forming between you.”

you felt a lump form in your throat at her words. you glanced at seungcheol only to find him staring at you. his expression was guarded and unreadable. you felt tiny under his gaze, not used to the intensity of his eyes on you.

the therapist cleared her throat, drawing both of your attention to her. “the effort you two took to meet me today is a sign that you both want to save this relationship, but it seems that there’s a lot of distance–both emotional and physical.” you shifted in your seat at her words. you couldn’t deny the truth; it had been a while since you had a proper conversation with seungcheol, let alone a moment of intimacy. “when was the last time you two… shared a moment of true closeness?” her question was left open. still, you and seungcheol know her meaning was leading to one thing.

your cheeks burned slightly at the thought of it. it had been months since you last shared a bed, weeks since he last held you close; you couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex. you glanced at your husband, wondering if he felt the same embarrassment or if the thought of this issue would bring him back to you.

seungcheol let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, a hand rummaging through his hair. “i-i don’t know, it has been a while.” he admitted, voice so soft you barely caught on to what he was saying. “i’ve been too caught up with stuff at work, i don’t think we’ve shared a bed in a while.” hearing him admit your problems made your heart ache. he was capable of acknowledging his mistakes, yet he made no effort to correct them.

she gave you both a sympathetic look. “it’s not uncommon for couples under this kind of strain to lose touch emotionally and physically. often, intimacy is the first thing to slip, but it’s also one of the most important bridges to reconnecting. i’d like to encourage you both to try spending time together, maybe even share the same bed, and just… see how that feels.”

the suggestion lingered in the air. silence erupting from the two of you as you processed her words. glancing at seungcheol, whose gaze was fixated on the floor while it seemed like he was in deep thought. seungcheol lifted his head, facing you briefly, his eyes filled with vulnerability for the first time in a long time. you caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding at your therapist while sending her a soft smile.

the session ended with an agreement to try. hoping that the words you heard today were a head start to fixing your crumbling marriage.

seungcheol mentioned that he had to return to work but promised to be home early. without having a choice, you went separate ways and decided to go home. your heart was heavy on the drive home. you weren’t sure how he took the session today and all you wanted was to talk to him, to hold him, for him to remind you that everything would be okay and that he loved you.

as the afternoon turned into evening, you couldn’t help but pace around the apartment. you already tried everything to keep your mind off of what happened today, but it was nearly impossible. your habit of cleaning every surface took place, every inch of the house spotless as you awaited your husband’s return. even catching up on your favorite series couldn’t help you keep your mind at ease.

you found yourself checking your phone every so often, the time taunting you as it nearly reached 7 pm and there were still no signs of seungcheol. you sighed, feeling a twinge of disappointment form in your heart. not wanting to feel the empty space of the house any longer, you decided to get ready for bed.

after taking a shower and doing your skincare, exhaustion begins to seep through your body. you felt stupid, stupid to think that seungcheol wanted it to work as much as you did. you started to accept that maybe he no longer needed you, no longer felt the same affection he had for you when you first started going out.

you lay in bed, going under the covers as tears escaped your eyes. the memories of you and your husband’s early days haunting you, wondering where it all went wrong.

you hadn’t noticed that you cried yourself to sleep. the sound of rustling around awoke you from your slumber. with heavy eyes, you tried to make out the source of the noise.

“fuck.” seungcheol whispered as he dropped his phone that had his flashlight on as he tried to navigate the room in the dark.

“cheol?” you mumbled, hand rubbing your eye as you sat in bed. seungcheol turned to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“y/n!” he said, surprised, guilty that he had woken you up. “did i wake you? i’m sorry, i was trying to find a change of clothes.”

you leaned over the bedside table, turning on the lamp to provide light for him. eyes secretly glancing at the time, seeing that it was only 8 pm. “don’t apologize, this is your room too.” you said, but it felt more like a reminder than a statement; it had been so long since he slept here with you.

without saying a word, he stepped towards the bed, sitting on the edge while his back faced you. his shoulders were tense; you could tell he had much on his mind.

you watched with worried eyes as he sighed before he turned to face you. “i’m sorry, y/n.” his gaze was soft, lips dry as he mustered up the courage to speak to you. you inched towards him in bed, sitting directly in front of his body that was turned to you. “i know i’ve been… absent these past couple of weeks, months even. and your head was probably filled with thoughts about what was going on, and i-“ he gulped, tears forming in his eyes. it had been so long since he opened his feelings to you since he looked at you with warm eyes and honesty. the nights you spent alone and mornings waking up next to an untouched bed flashed before you. “i was trying to prove something… to myself, to you.” he admitted, his eyes filled with shame and regret. still, you listened to his words intently. “i thought that if i kept my head down and focused on work, i could finally give us this picture-perfect life that you deserve. and i-i thought you’d be okay with waiting.”

you took a moment to register his words. your fingers absentmindedly fiddling with one another–which he caught. you hadn’t been okay. the loneliness swallowed you these past few months, and his physical distance from you only made it worse. you missed him. you missed his scent, his touch–his hand on your back as you slept, the feeling of his arms around your shoulders, the way he pulled you close in his sleep. you missed the feeling of his soft lips, the feeling of his hands on your body. it had been so long since you felt good.

“you have no idea how hard it’s been, seungcheol.” you started, voice almost trembling as you spoke. “going to bed alone, having no clue if you’d even come home to me. i felt like i was losing you, little by little.” 

“god, no.” for the first time in forever, seungcheol reached for your hands instinctively. comfort rushing through your body by his touch. he held your hands tightly, his eyes pleading. “i thought i was doing this for us, y/n, but i was being so selfish. i pushed you away. i pushed us away.” his voice cracked, pain written all over his face. “i missed you. i missed everything about you. i missed us.” he admitted, his thumb gliding over your hands in an attempt to provide solace. “i didn’t want to fail you, y/n.”

his eyes shut, a tear slipping down his cheek. you reached out to cup his face, your thumb wiping away his tears. you felt him lean against your touch, making your heart ache. you couldn’t remember the last time he had been this vulnerable with you. you could see how deeply he felt the loss, even if he had hidden it from you.

seungcheol’s eyes fluttered opened, his voice barely above a whisper. “i promise i’ll make up for the lost time. i want to show you that i’m here and i’m sorry. you’re not losing me.”

his words impacted you harder than you had expected, providing you with both comfort and hurt. it felt silly to be so relieved by his simple promise. but after longing for him for so long, you couldn’t help it. it was exactly what you were waiting to hear. the assurance from him was more than enough to give you ease.

instead of saying anything, you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his. he exhaled softly at your touch. god, you missed him. it meant everything to you that he was here. actually here.

“cheol.” you mumbled, eyes shutting. “i missed you so much.”

you felt him nod lightly. “i know, angel.” hearing his pet name for you flooded you with warm memories. “i missed you, too. more than you could imagine.” his hand slid to the back of your neck. you pulled away from his forehead, eyes staring up at him as he rubbed the skin. slightly shivering at his touch as it reached down into the parts of you that had felt cold and empty for so long. “let me make up for the lost time.” his voice was deep as his gaze on you darkened.

your eyes fluttered open, gaze falling to his lips. you let your hands slide down his shoulder, almost pulling his body close to you. he leaned closer to you, his breath fanning your face, lips brushing against yours. you melted into his touch as he connected his lips with yours. your hands finding their way to his chest as the kiss deepened, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. it reminded you that he was actually here, and you weren’t alone as you had felt for all those months.

seungcheol wrapped his arms around your waist as he laid you on the bed, your back meeting the soft sheets as he climbed between your legs. his thigh rubbing against your core that was growing warm with his every touch. feeling the tension between you dissipate with each kiss and touch. the gap between the two of you shrinking as he showed you just how much he missed you.

his fingers made their way to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from your lips to tug the fabric off your body, leaving your upper half naked. he groaned at the sight of you, reminding him how much he missed seeing your body. “god, i missed you.” he whispered before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. moaning when his hand slipped between your legs, hand cupping your pussy that was growing wet at his mere touch. your body craving him more than you anticipated.

“cheol, i need you.” you whimpered against his lips as his fingers traced over your clothed core. desperation lacing from your voice made him grow hard against his suit. feeling his hard-on against your thigh. your hands reached up to undo his tie before unbuttoning his shirt. he hovered over you to give you more access, sliding the shirt off once you were done. you shamelessly checked him out, running your fingers over his chiseled chest. you almost forgotten how much you loved his body.

seungcheol hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and underwear. sliding them down your legs, feeling your arousal sticking to the fabric. in a swift movement, he inched his body down the bed until his head was in between your thighs, face dangerously close to your throbbing pussy. he took a whiff, your familiar scent welcoming him. “you smell amazing, baby.” his arm hooked around and over your thigh, pulling your body close to him. bringing two fingers up to your entrance, collecting your arousal, and spreading it up to your clit. “so wet and needy for me.”

you moaned at his touch, hips bucking upwards as you tried to get more friction but his grip around you prevented you from moving. he softly smiled at your state, wasting no time in pressing his tongue against your clit. you gasped, hand flying down to grip his hair.

seungcheol ran his tongue up and down your folds, lips sucking on your clit, occasionally flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. the sudden movements had your back arching off the bed, hand gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue lapped your hole. “f-feels so good.” you whimpered.

his free hand snaked around your body, his thumb circling your clit while his tongue fucked your entrance. the sensation driving you crazy as you let out curses. he knew your body all too well. he knew exactly how to push you over the edge even after all these months.

“my pretty girl. i bet your pussy was waiting for me, hm?” he hummed against your folds, the vibrations sending shocks throughout your body. you lifted your head to meet his gaze, his eyes flickering to yours. maintaining eye contact, he slipped his fingers down your core, abruptly inserting two of them inside you. you could barely let out words once you felt his digits curl inside you. he beamed once he saw you writhe beneath his touch, glad that you weren’t that disconnected from each other in every way.

seungcheol pressed his mouth against your clit, sucking on the bud as his fingers relentlessly fucked your hole. thrusting them in and out of you in addicting movements. your hips jerk up from the overwhelming pleasure. toes curling as you felt a knot form in your stomach.

“p-please, cheolie, i want to cum.” your voice shaking as he continued his movements. your hand reaching up to your breast, squeezing them as you felt your orgasm forming.

“let it out, angel.” he whispered against your clit, sucking on it harshly to the point tears fill your eyes. without warning, you came undone with his fingers in you, cursing his name. your insides clenching around his digits as his movements slowed down. you head thrown back against the mattress as you let out shaky breaths.

seungcheol detached his mouth from your clit, pulling his fingers away before entrapping them with his lips. savouring your cum to account for the many months that went by without tasting you. “my good girl.”

seungcheol kneeled between your legs, his cock hard against his stomach–you hadn’t even noticed he took his pants off. you lifted your head to face him, mouth watering at the sight. nearly forgetting how big and thick his cock was. you wrapped your fingers around his length, pumping it lightly before stroking it. his hips inching towards you as he leaned into your touch. your thumb running over his tip that was leaking with precum. you looked at him through your lashes, but his eyes were already dark and focused on you.

“fuck, baby.” he grunted once you jerked him off, but his hand reached for your wrist to prevent your movement. “stop teasing, princess. i need my cock inside your pussy.” his confession made sparks shoot throughout your body and onto your cunt.

seungcheol positioned his body between your legs, gripping his cock in one hand, aligning it with your entrance. you couldn’t help the moans that escaped your lips as he glided the tip of his cock along your folds, spreading your wetness before sinking into you. you gasped at the size of his length. your fingernails digging (careful not to hurt him) into his shoulders as you adjusted to his size.

“i know, baby.” his voice soothed you, hushing you as tears threatened to escape your eyes. fuck, you forgot how his dick felt inside you. “you’re taking me so well, angel.” he pressed kisses all over your face.

once he was balls deep in you, he stayed still for a moment. letting you get used to the sensation, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“m-move, please.” your voice barely a whisper. “you’re so big, cheolie.”

seungcheol growled at your words, slowly starting to move his hips. “missed your pussy, baby.” you felt every inch of his cock in you, insides splitting from his size. your insides burning, but it felt so fucking good. you bucked your hips, meeting his thrusts.

he took this as a sign to gradually increase his speed, his hips rocking into you faster. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer to you, scared that if you let go, he’ll disappear again.

the proximity allowing him to bury his cock deeper into you. in a swift motion, he pulled his cock out before slamming his hips against yours. sounds of skin slapping filling the room, along the moans that emit from you and the groans that escape his throat. he buried his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses against the skin.

“you feel so fucking good, shit.” his hand sneaked to your breast, taking your nipple in between his fingers, circling the sensitive bud. the rough pad of his thumb and index adding to the overwhelming pleasure. “fuck, i’m never leaving you alone ever again.”

you don’t know if it was his words or the pleasure from his cock that brought tears to your eyes. he pulled away from your neck, towering over you as he held eye contact with you. “my pretty wife, i love you so much.”

“i-i love you, cheol.” you breathed out, feeling him twitch inside you from your confession. the words felt foreign from your lips, but the feeling was reeling in so many memories. he picked up his pace again, relentlessly fucking you as if to remind you that he’s here now.

seungcheol leaned forward, capturing your lips with his. the kiss was more passionate and needy, his taste leaving you intoxicated. his hand inching down to your clit, rubbing circles on the nub. the stimulation building your orgasm even more. he knew you were getting close when you clenched around him, driving him to fuck into you deeper and harder.

“are you gonna cum for me, angel?” his voice deep as he watched you squirm underneath his touch. he latched his lips to your chest, sucking on the skin softly, enough to surely leave a mark. the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was providing was enough to drive you insane. the coil in your stomach begging to be released. “cum all over my cock, baby, let me feel you.” with the encouragement of his words, you released all over his cock. stars clouding your vision as you ride out your high. “s-shit, baby.” the sight of you cumming on his cock was enough to send seungcheol over the edge. with a few final thrusts, his warm seed burst inside you, painting your walls white, groans filling the room.

seungcheol slowly retreated his cock from you, his cum spilling from your pussy. you winced at the sticky feeling. he pressed a quick kiss on your forehead before he disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed a towel which he ran under cold water. he returned and immediately nursed you, dragging the towel up and down your entrance which made you giggle.

“thank you.” you mumbled as he went to return the towel in the bathroom.

“anything for my beautiful wife.” seungcheol grabbed a shirt from the closet, handing it to you because he knew how much you loved wearing his shirts to bed. even helping you slip it on your body. your heart warmed at the sight of him taking care of you. you barely noticed that he climbed into bed and pulled you close to his chest. “i told you, i’ll make it up to you, my love.” he whispered, pressing a kiss on the side of your head.

you could only nod at his words, feeling slumber take over you. hearing him whisper how much he loved you before falling unconscious.

-

you woke up to the warmth of a body shifting beside you, feeling the familiar weight of your husband’s arm around your waist. the soft morning light greeted you as you opened your eyes. you glanced at his sleeping figure, taking in the sight of his relaxed face, lashes resting against cheeks and lips slightly parted. he was still here. your heart was pounding so loudly that you were sure he'd hear it if he were awake.

your hand reached up to brush away the strands of hair falling onto his face. but before you could do so, his eyes fluttered open, a soft smile forming on his lips as he focused on you.

“g’morning.” seungcheol mumbled, voice deep and husky, still laced with sleep.

“good morning.” you responded, unable to hide the chipper in your voice. you rested your hand on his bare chest, rubbing the skin comfortingly, slightly scared that you were in a dream.

his hand fell to your back, pulling your body close to him. “i meant it, you know.” he whispered, his thumb rubbing circles along your back. “i don’t want us to fall apart again.”

your chest tightened at his words, but this time, the ache was different–it was hopeful. “neither do i.” leaning your head against his neck, softly kissing the skin.

“you have me forever, baby.” he said, a promise that felt as grounding as his touch on your body.

you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace engulf you. comfortable silence taking over as you lay there in each other’s arms. you both knew this was just the start of finding your way back to one another.

[brokenengene]

࿐second chances - l.hs

He calls her after work just to hear her fall apart for him. The next night, she’s in his bed, legs shaking around his head, soaking the sheets with every breathless thank you.

pairing: single dad! boss! heeseung x secretary! fem reader

genres: office romance, smut, angst, second chance, contemporary

This content is only for readers 18+

content warning: strong language, power dynamics, sensitive themes, sexual content, angst, brief mentions of alcohol, discussions of infertility, discussions of pregnancy, low self-worth talk/self-esteem issues, grief mention, detailed smut, 18+ themes

smut warning: kissing, making-out, oral sex(fem receiving), unprotected sex(please don't!) praise kink, verbal breeding kink, mutual masturbation (phone), mention of vibrator usage, interrupted intimacy, soft dom!Heeseung, creampie, crying during sex, emotional vulnerability

word count: 10.6k

soundtrack: daylight-taylor swift/ let me love you like a woman-lana del rey/ earned it- the weekend

College was a long, long four years. Sleepless nights and all-nighters, good professors and bad ones.

To be honest, it didn’t live up to your expectations. 

At all.

Your grades were top of your class but in the romance department, you failed with a zero.

Freshman year went by, and no boyfriend, sophomore year? still no boyfriend. Junior and senior year? Too busy with homework to even try.

But that wasn’t your main goal anyway. Studies were always number one.

You rarely went to any parties, and rarely had any hookups because honestly?

You had essays due at 11:59.

It went by quickly and before you knew it you were tossing your tassel and walking across the graduation stage. A smile plastered across your face and an ache in your heart. 

You did it. You truly did it. 

Now on to adulthood, your carefree years are left behind in the dust.

 You felt pressure the minute you walked off that stage. So, so much pressure.

From weddings and baby showers to getting bombarded with questions at every single. holiday dinner. 

“When are you getting married?  “When are you going to have kids? You aren’t getting any younger.” “I know we told you to focus on your studies but you should think about settling down.” 

When you were offered a position at the biggest marketing agency in the city you were swift to accept. Ready to transition from campus life to corporate life. 

The first few months were rough, but you pushed through. Before you knew it you were fitting right in.

Professionally sent emails, a schedule full of meetings, and coffee perfectly sweetened and delivered to your boss right on time. 

Soon you were caught up in the routine of your 9-5. 

Wake up. 

Commute.

Work.

Commute.

Sleep. 

The American dream you were sold. Yet you still felt so empty, like something was constantly missing.

Your hard work quickly paid off. Soon the company was promoting you to the role of assistant creative director. And with the pay raise came more responsibility—and more mental strain. 

Heeseung Lee, your new boss, didn’t seem thrilled. 

He seemed like he was always giving you a task to keep you as far away from him as possible. But being the hardworking woman you are, you complied.

You had an image to keep up anyway.

You didn’t know much about him. He mostly kept to himself, always buried in work from dawn until dusk. Never really gave you a second glance unless he needed an errand run. Or his coffee refilled.

You woke up to the same blare of your alarm. Starting the day off like all the others. Picking out another navy blue pantsuit and pairing it with some pumps and your work tote. 

You tie up your hair professionally, do some minimal makeup to compliment your features, and spray your favorite perfume. 

You’re out the door just in time. Driving the same sluggish commute to the office. The same songs still playing on the radio. 

As you wind through the crowded city streets the office building becomes visible in the distance.

The unchanging, rising floors and perfectly polished glass reflect the blue of the sky. The logos were perfectly stamped onto the top of the building and the doors. 

You step into the empty elevator and ride it up to the marketing floor. The large windows overlook the bustling city below, letting the sun's rays into the concrete structure. 

Your heels click against the floor, echoing in the empty hall as you make your way toward your desk—which just happens to be room next to Heeseung’s.

You set down your keys and bag before pulling out your laptop to get to work. 

You’re lost in thought and focused on getting a head start on the day. Make a list of clients to contact, things to print, and a schedule of meetings for your boss.

You hardly even notice the sound of the elevator opening with a quiet, ding!

You glance at the clock, no one besides you ever comes to the office this early. You watch through the glass prying your gaze overtop the desktop curiously to see who it could be.

Your boss steps out of the elevator, tie loose and crooked, shirt wrinkled, hair down, You’ve never seen him show up this…messy?

Immediately your interest is piqued. Your eyes narrow with confusion as you watch him stumble into the office, coffee in one hand and laptop tucked under the other arm. You glance down and notice a small boy clinging to his leg. 

He drags himself across the office floor and the boy latches onto his pant leg. You smile softly as you watch through the glass. Wondering who’s kid your stoic boss got stuck parenting this morning. 

 “Daddy I want pancakes!” The little boy yells. 

“Shhhhh inside voice Cal-“ Heeseung says to the boy as he covers his mouth in an attempt to muffle his echoed pleas for pancakes. 

Dad? Heeseung? A Father? You had no idea. You’ve never seen him wear a ring, he never seemed like the family type either.

No pictures of a family framed on his desk like your other coworkers.  You ponder, all of a sudden invested in knowing way more about his personal life than you should. 

Your curiosity gets the best of you as you decide to confidently step out of the office, pretending not to notice him. 

Heeseung's eyes shoot wide as he hears the sound of your heels on the tile floor.

 “Morning.” He says, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from the compromising position you caught him in. He’s visibly flustered.

Again that's a first.

You don’t know what comes over you. Before you know it you're simply leaning in to help. 

“Morning! Didn’t know you were bringing a guest today.” You say with a soft smile to the boy, waving to him as you step closer. 

You gently glance at Heeseung, his expression overwhelmed and stressed. He can’t even fight you as you take the coffee and laptop from his hands.

His shoulders physically drop with the release of the tension. 

Your fingertips brush against the warmth of his as you take the now cold coffee cup from his hand, leaning in and getting a whiff of his cologne as you take the laptop.

You feel his warmth as you do, his scent is woody and inviting. Again you’ve never been this close.

And it's making your heart race.

“Up we go-“ Heeseung says, picking up the still visibly angry boy in his arms as he follows you into his office. You set down his things on the mahogany desk and he closes the door behind you. 

Heeseung lets the boy down, and he instantly starts bouncing off the walls and running circles around his desk. He Jumps up and down on the small leather couch. Heeseung sighs as he looks over at you.

Helpless.

“The nanny I hired walked out on me at the last minute. I just didn’t know what else to do.” Heeseung mumbles under his breath. 

He rubs the back of his neck, You’ve never seen him so unguarded before.

“Callum down! No jumping!” Heeseung haggles as he pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve some of the headache. 

Callum, that must be his son, he looks maybe around four years old. It’s clear he’s full of lots of energy.

He also appears to be protesting his no-pancake breakfast.

Heeseung lets out another sigh, visibly stressed beyond anything you've ever seen. His shoulders are tense, so tense as his son only makes more and more noise.

It makes your heart ache, without even thinking you step in.

“Callum, do you want to color?” You say kindly, you don’t even know what’s taken over you, it just hurts to see your boss looking like a stressed-out mess.

And to be fair, you are his assistant. It’s your job to lend a hand.

You gather some copy paper from his desk before opening the drawers. You shuffle through the sea of sticky notes and paper clips before finding a few colored highlighters scattered around.

“I love to color!” Callum says as he jumps off the couch and onto the floor. 

With the office supplies in hand, you lie on the rug, kicking your heels off in the process. You don’t even notice Heeseung staring at you in awe as Callum takes the green highlighter from your hand and starts to scribble on the page. 

And for the first time since Heeseung walked through the door, it’s quiet. 

“Can you add a dinosaur? Pretty please!!!” Callum says cheerfully as the two of you continue to scribble your masterpiece onto the paper. 

“I can try…” you say with a weak giggle as you use the best of your ability to draw the shape of a dinosaur from memory. Letting your fingertips lightly brush the pens across the white pages.

Heeseung just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest with a stupid grin on his face. You look good, a little too good.

Shit...

He’s snapped out of his trance when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He immediately steps out leaving just you and Callum alone for a moment. 

You watch through the glass. There he goes again, stressed and frustrated. His shoulders tight on the call, his hand roughly raking through his already messy hair. 

After a few moments, he aggressively ends the call and steps back in, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his dress pants. 

“Sorry I’ve got to jump on a quick meeting, I didn’t notice the time got changed,” Heeseung says frantically as he grabs his laptop, his eyes wide as he looks between you and Callum. Like he just doesn’t know exactly what to do.

“You go, I can handle this,” you say, chest fluttering as you see his expression melt. You’ve never seen him so soft. 

“I owe you one, you’re a lifesaver,” Heeseung says breathlessly as he turns out the door, he looks back once, heart melting at the sight.

He looks back once more before rounding the corner to the conference hall. 

You and Callum are left alone in the office, you keep him entertained. Thankful that you came in early to get a head start on the day.

It’s easy to give him your full attention knowing you have an empty to-do list.

You get comfortable, taking off your navy blue blazer and tossing it onto the back of his office chair.

You slide your heels under the desk, watching Callum fill up sheet after sheet of paper with colorful, creative pieces of art.

“I like you more than the other lady,” Callum mumbles as he lies on the ground, brows furrowed as he focuses on coloring in the rough outlined shapes. 

“You do?” You question him with a sweet voice. You lean down next to him, taking one of the highlighters in your hand as you mindlessly start to draw on another sheet of paper next to him.

“Are you going to be my new mommy? I miss having a mom.” The boy mutters, his expression hopeful. 

Your heart drops. Is Heeseung taking care of him all by himself? You can only imagine how much stress he’s under juggling work life and home life too. 

You chuckle weakly as you continue to watch him scribble on the pages.

“That’s not really how it works Callum.” You inform kindly.

After about half an hour of coloring and dinosaur talk, Heeseung comes around the corner. You catch a glimpse of him through the glass and you swear your heart skips another beat.

“Daddy!” Callum says as he jumps up and runs into his Dad's legs as he stands in the doorway.

“Were you good for her Cal?” Heeseung asks, glancing at you briefly, his expression softening as he steps into the office and sets his laptop down on the desk.

You start to clean up the mess. Highlighters, pens, and paper scattered all over the floor, your hair a mess, blazer tossed somewhere to the side. You smile softly as you listen to the interaction. 

You catch another whiff of his cologne, woody, warm, and masculine. There it goes again, your heart skipping a beat.

“He’s a good kid.” You say with a smile on your face as you unintentionally lock eyes with Heeseung. He can’t help but smile back at you. 

You’re snapped out of your gaze when Callum tugs at the edge of your shirt. 

“Are you leaving? Please don’t leave! Daddy, can she come home with us?” Callum cries out. 

Heeseung lets out another weak laugh. Face flushing with embarrassment.

“Cal, she's got her own home to go to.” Heeseung watches, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. 

“Daddy I like her!” Callum says. Heeseung’s expression softens at his words.

His eyes linger on your expression as he pulls a granola bar out of one of the drawers of his desk. He softly breaks it into small pieces before handing it to Callum. 

“Chocolate Chip! Your favorite…” Heeseung mutters as he watches Callum let go of your shirt, running to take the Granola bar out of his hand. It's quiet while he munches away at his morning snack.

With free hands, Heeseung steps away from his desk moving even closer to you. Your heart rate picks up. Beating fast as you notice just how attractive he looks in the low light.

He’s young, he can’t be much older than you are. As you study his face you notice his expression changing, flickering with surprise, gratitude even.

“You’re really good with him. He’s never like this with anyone else.” Heeseung says to you his voice soft, just above a whisper. 

“I worked at a daycare in college, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” You say playfully, an unfamiliar warmth starts to pool in your stomach. You push it down in an attempt to keep the feelings strictly professional.

“You’re a natural, I didn’t know you had this side to you.” He says casually leaning up against the desk.

Your eyes linger on the way his body fills up his suit. The fabric straining against his muscles as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Likewise, didn’t know you had the cutest little boy around. He's real special..” You say as you casually slip back into your work pumps, smoothing out the wrinkles of your blouse.

You flush, noticing Heesueng’s eyes lingering on your fingertips, mentally tracing the curves of your body.

After a long moment, Heeseung shakes his head trying to snap himself out of, whatever he’s feeling.

“He deserves the world and I—I  wish I could give it to him,” Heeseung confesses his voice low, almost sounding defeated.

“You’re doing enough…trust me. I couldn’t imagine being in your shoes. Especially with that ball of energy.” You say truthfully, your gaze lingering on him for another second too long. Noticing the way his dark hair compliments his eyes. 

Heeseung nervously clears his throat, his cheeks flushing as the noise smacks you out of your trance with a nervous laugh.

Heeseung hesitates, there's a moment of comfortable silence before he speaks up. “Well I have another meeting at 12, and I’ve got a presentation I need to work on for Friday, I don’t know how I'm going to get it all done—”

“Don’t worry, I can watch him. I’ll order him some food and keep him entertained while you work.” You interrupt with a soft smile. Your fingertips mindlessly adjust your hair, making his heart flutter. 

“If that's okay with you?” You add nervously.

“Are you sure you really don’t have to…” Heeseung mutters, but you can tell from his body language he’s secretly relieved and deeply grateful for the offer.

“I want to, I’ve pretty much got a blank schedule today so I don’t mind.” You say as Callum finishes his granola and runs back towards the two of you. Leaving a messy pile of crumbs where he sat and ate his snack.

He gently clings to the side of your leg, gripping the fabric of your dress pants. 

Heeseung takes one look and he just can’t say no. 

“Daddy! Can we play some more!” Callum says as he tugs at the side of your pant leg. 

Heeseung smiles, this time it's different, authentic. 

“I’ll be back around 5.”

And with that, he leaves you two in the office to make it your very own personal playground.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The sun starts to set letting hues of orange and pink seep through the office windows.

5pm rolls around and  Heeseung couldn’t be more than happy to be done with his tedious work.

His breath catches as he turns the corner of the hall. Heart softening as he finds the state of the two of you. 

You’re still lying on the rug, barefoot, and with your hair loose as you type away at your laptop. Typical of you to get a head start on some work for tomorrow. 

Callum rests his head on your leg as he sleeps peacefully. His little chest rises and falls with soft breaths as he dozes off peacefully.

You don’t even notice Heeseung standing in the doorway again, as you continue to work.

Remnants of a door-dashed chicken nugget meal is left right next to you. A little bit of ketchup staining Callum’s dinosaur shirt. 

Callum is fed, asleep, and happy. 

That makes today a win. 

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you for this,” Heeseung speaks up as he steps into the room. His voice was soft enough to catch your attention but not to wake Callum. 

You flinch as you hear his voice, unaware that he was watching you for the last few minutes completely enthralled with what he was seeing.

“Is it 5:00 already?” You ask tearing your gaze away from your laptop to glance at Heeseung leaning against the doorframe. His tight blazer rode up just enough to reveal his strong build underneath his slim white shirt. 

“5:16 actually,” Heeseung says matter-of-factly. He drags himself into the room, setting down his laptop and keeling down to help clean up the mess. 

He starts to pick up the food trash, gathering up all the pens and markers. A few pages are scattered across the floor. He smiles as he flips through the drawings. 

Dinosaurs, castles, sharks—his heart stops when he sees messily drawn stick figures in front of a house. 

It’s a boy with black hair, a tall man with the same, and a woman that looks a lot like you. 

Callum drew this, little stick figures in front of his home, a family. 

Heeseung doesn’t say anything to you, he just continues to clean and pack up letting Callum rest on your leg peacefully. But his heart is thumping in his ears.

Imagining you with Callum, in his home. Imagining you in his bed—

He stops himself. You’re his assistant for God’s sake, not a free babysitter. You come here to get a check just like he does. Not to live out some fantasy that he knows is out of reach. 

Heeseung glances at the picture on his desk just one more time. He keeps telling himself it’s asking too much, and that having a family like that is impossible for him.

He tries, but his heart is tugging in another direction. 

There are hardly any words spoken between you as Heeseung packs up his things. The rest of the staff was already gone leaving the office dim and cold and empty.

You gently pick up Callum. He stirs slightly as you hold him up against your hip. You slip back into your shoes, and without even asking, Heeseung grabs the rest of your things. 

The elevator ride down is quiet. The only sound is the soft hum of the cables and Callum’s soft sleepy breaths against your shoulder.

Your heels click against the concrete as you carry Callum to the parking garage. Heeseung keeps glancing at you briefly, not being able to hold contact too long. Like he’s still trying to keep you at a distance, but he's failing. 

“The black Kia is mine…” Heeseung says softly as he leads you through the empty parking garage to the back row of parking spots.

Once you reach the car he opens the back door for you. Letting you easily slide Callum into his car seat. You don’t even notice the drool left on your white shirt as you buckle him into the car. 

Heeseung just stands watching from the side. You look incredible, and he notices the drool left on your corporate attire.

You just look so right, feel so right. But he knows it’s not right in the slightest.

Once Callum is bucked in you shut the door to the black SUV turning to take your blazer, laptop, and workbag from Heeseungs arms.

“You have no idea what you’ve done for me today,” Heeseung says softly, his tone truthfully like he means every word as he passes you your things.

“Anytime. Callum is worth it.” You say softly as you slip back into your navy blue blazer. 

“Here let me repay you for the Happy Meal I—“ 

“Don’t. Please. It’s my pleasure truly.”  You say as you playfully 'shh' him with your fingertips. His cheeks flushed a soft pink at the gesture.

You don’t even realize just how close you are. 

There’s a pause. It’s not awkward just heavy. Like you can feel the thoughts racing through your head and his.

You catch a breath as he stares down into your eyes, his gaze lingering across every one of your features. 

He hesitates, not wanting to cross a line, but God he wants to. He reaches out his hand, gently cupping the sides of your face, his thumbs brushing against the warmth of your cheeks.

You swear you can hear the beat of your heart echoing through the empty car garage. 

“You are so kind, so beautiful…” Heeseung mutters under his breath. His gaze locked on you like he’s in a trance. His fingertips gently brush against your soft skin. 

He leans in, his lips almost touching yours. His breath is hot against you. The woody and masculine smell of his fading cologne fills your senses. Reminding you how quickly the distance is shrinking between you.

The moment is charged, you both know you shouldn’t. But you're dying to have a taste of his perfectly shaped lips. 

“You really saved me today, I can’t say thank you enough” Heeseung whispers. Tension sizzles while his heart feels conflicted all at once.

But right now, off the clock, he’s feeling everything he’s been pushing down since the day you were promoted.

 Right now, you’re not just his assistant. You’re the generous, intelligent, attractive woman that he's been pushing away since day one.

His eyes find yours again, and he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

He’s scared but also excited. Maybe you could be something more.

“Then don’t say it.” You mutter softly… Your eyes widen as you realize what just slipped out of your mouth. 

Heeseung chuckles again. The sound makes your stomach flip as his dark eyes flick down to your perfectly shaped lips. 

His breath catches.

He hesitates.

But closes the distance. 

He leans in and captures your soft lips with his own. The kiss is soft, gentle, barely there like he’s trying to say goodbye and thank you all at once.

Your breath gets caught in your lungs as you feel the warmth of his lips against your own. You feel the tension slipping from your body as you kiss him back with a soft sigh.

You slowly move your hands letting them rest against his chest, gently pulling at the cool fabric of his button-up shirt. 

His lips brush against yours again, barely capturing your lips with his own, keeping his distance in case you want to pull away.

You don’t. 

You can’t help but lean into it. His lips are soft and feather-like. You gasp into his mouth, heart-thumping in your chest.

Your breath hitches, and Heeseung smirks. Noticing the effect he’s having on you. 

The kiss lingers, for two seconds, maybe three. After a short moment, he pulls away. His breath still mingling with your own.

His lips were pink and plump from the kiss. He lets his fingertips linger on your skin before reluctantly pulling them away. Leaving you with a shiver of cold without his warmth. 

“Damn,” Heeseung whispers breathlessly under his breath as he puts a few more inches of cold distance between you.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?” You tease with a soft smirk as you lean down to pick up the rest of your things, face burning as you realize—

You just kissed your boss.

“I’ve wanted to try that for longer than you think” Heeseung teases back as he nervously pulls his gaze away from you to dig in his pocket for his car keys.

The tension is heavy between you two, like you both want to say so much but the words just won't come out.

“I should get going it’s getting late—” You say nervously adjusting the wrinkled collar of your shirt in an attempt to ease some of the thick tension.

“You’re right, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Heeseung questions hopefully. His eyes lingered on you once again.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” You reply as you turn on your heel to walk towards your car, scared of what would happen if you stayed a moment longer.

“Drive safe…” Heeseung calls out behind you as he leans against the side of his car, watching as you walk across the garage before stepping into your car.

You pull the driver's side door shut with a slam. Letting out a loud heavy breath of relief as you try to process what just happened. 

Heeseung is a father. Exhausted, attractive, and kissing you like a fucking dream.

A problem in the making.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You can’t stop thinking about the day as you finally arrive home. You aggressively throw your things down on the kitchen counter and make your way straight for the shower. 

Hopefully, that will help clear your mind. 

You step into the shower washing your hair and skin. You can’t stop thinking about Heeseung’s gentle glances. About Callum's sweet laughter. All the things confessed and how natural everything felt in the chaos.

The weight of the day finally catches up to you as you change into a satin pair of pajamas and slide into bed.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. 

Just as you shut your eyes your phone vibrates and buzzes on the nightstand. You groan, lazily grabbing it, the illuminating screen hurting your eyes as you look at it in the darkness.

It’s Heeseung. 

At this hour? He can't be calling about presentations or pamphlets that need to be made. Your thumb hovers over the green circle. 

On the third ring, you pick up. 

“Hello?” You say into the phone with a professional tone.

“Hey sorry to bother you this late. You’re still up?” Heeseung asks.

You hear the rustling of sheets through the other side of the line and it only piques your interest. 

“Wouldn’t be talking to you if I wasn’t.” You say playfully in response. 

There’s a soft pause, the sound of your ceiling fan creaking overtop your bed the only thing that cuts through the breathing. 

“Hey about the kiss, I hope I want to cross a line or anything. I want to apologize—“ Heeseung breathes out.

“No trust me, you don’t have to apologize.” You say, your heart beating faster the longer the call goes on. 

Heeseung bites his lip, contemplating if he wants to say what he’s thinking. 

“I liked it, a lot actually and I would do it again,” Heeseung confesses, his voice shaky you can almost see how red he is behind the screen.

“Oh yeah?” You reply, your thighs already clenching together under the covers just at the sound of his voice. 

“I want to do more than just kiss you actually—God I shouldn’t be saying this. Maybe I should hang up,” Heeseung confesses, his voice heavy as your phone picks up the sound of more sheets rustling. 

 “Please don’t.” You plead. Your voice was shaky as it cuts through the silence. There’s another quiet pause before Heeseung softly interrupts.

“…what are you wearing?” He asks curiously with a whisper. His voice hits through the phone as you hold it to your ear.

“Satin..nothing underneath.” You say with a shaky breath. 

“Fuck. That’s hot.” Heeseung says into the phone as you hear more sounds of him from the other side. He lets a quiet breathily moan slip from his lips.

“I wish I was there. The things I would do to you, for you…” Heeseung mumbles his voice softly trailing off. 

“What things?” You ask, your voice a soft gasp catching in your throat. 

“I would kiss you again, letting my hands slide that satin off your pretty skin. Then I would kiss down your neck, letting you moan into my ear. I bet you’d sound so pretty.” Heeseung confesses. 

You imagine it, your thighs squeezing together at the thought, you’re heart beating faster as you hear his breaths getting heavier. 

“Fuck..” Heeseung gasps with a soft moan. Your eyes roll back in response as your free hand traces lower until it’s slipping into the satin fabric of your shorts.

“Then I’d kiss down your body. Down until I was kneeled between your legs, tasting you. Worshiping you, a real thank you compared to that kiss.” Heeseung gasps as you hear the bed creek underneath him on the other side of the phone. 

You moan at the thought, you don’t even realize it slipped past your lips right through the other side of the call. 

“Shit—“ you gasp your fingers slowing their movement between your legs. 

“You touching yourself?” Heeseung whispers. 

“Yeah..” you reply, your cheeks burning hot as you do. Not completely from embarrassment but maybe from how much you’re enjoying this.

“Me too…I’m so hard just thinking about you..” Heeseung says as he’s cut off with another soft groan. 

“Fuck—“ you curse as you grab some of the wetness leaking from your hole before dragging it up to your clit working small circles on yourself. 

“I’d be so good to you. Lying you back, fucking you in missionary so I can watch your pretty face.” Heeseung gasps, his breath heavy as his hand moves against himself.

“God, your voice..” you gasp as you rub yourself faster adding more pressure between your thighs. 

“Let me hear you. Fuck let me hear those pretty sounds..” Heeseung commands through the line, and the phone picks up the sound of his sharp breaths.

Your thighs shake as you push yourself further, getting lost in the image of his mouth on your pussy before sliding his cock into it. You close your eyes, letting his breaths turn you on more. 

“Daddy?” You hear softly from the other side of the phone.

 Everything stops. 

“What is it, Cal?” You hear Heeseung's muffled voice as the sheets are aggressively tossed on the other side of the phone. The room goes quiet as you hear him jump up from the bed

After a moment he comes back. 

“Shit—I’ve got to take care of him...I’m sorry..” Heeseung says frantically. 

“It’s ok I understand…have a goodnight.” You reply softly. 

“You too, goodnight,” Heeseung replies before hitting the red button on the screen leaving you completely in silence. 

You let out a sigh of pure disappointment as you turn to dig through your bedside table to find your vibrator.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The next day you show up to the office early. Partly because you always do and partly because you couldn’t hardly sleep at all.

Not after that call.

You remember the empty feeling of having the most unsatisfying orgasm ever. Your fingers and toys feel like nothing compared to his voice turning you on.

You shake your head trying to clear your head of the thoughts. Last night shouldn’t have happened, and you can’t let it interfere with your work. 

You pull your laptop out of your bag and immediately start to skim through your inbox, making the usual list of clients to call and meetings to attend. You’re quickly interrupted by a knock. 

You glance at the door as Heeseung steps in. His blazer unbuttoned along with the top buttons of his white shirt. His tie hangs loosely around his neck.

You immediately notice the bags around his eyes suggesting he didn’t get much sleep either.

“How’s Callum?” You ask honestly. 

“My nephew is home from college today so he’s watching him,” Heeseung says casually as he steps into the room closing the door shut behind him. 

“Can we talk about yesterday?” He asks as leans against the side of your desk. His blazer is tight as he crosses his arms.

“You think this is a good time to bring up the phone sex we had before your son walked in?” You tease casually as you continue to scribble notes onto your planner. 

“I didn’t mean to leave you hanging, trust me,” Heeseung murmurs his voice dropping an octave as he leans in close. 

“It’s okay I had my vibrator finish the job.” You tease matter-of-factly. 

“Now that’s cruel,” Heeseung says with a soft chuckle. The same laugh that was making you lose it yesterday. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You reply, already feeling yourself getting worked up again.

The warmth between your thighs, the flush in your cheeks. 

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.” Heeseung states as he glances deeply into your eyes. Like he’s pleading with you to not shut him out. 

You sit back in your office chair as he rounds the desk, you let him step closer, breath catching as he leans in. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will...” he whispers as he gently cups the side of your face again, his eyes flicking down to stare at your lips. 

You remember exactly how it felt in the parking garage, how warm and wet and inviting his kisses were. You’d be a fool to say no. 

Heeseung closes the distance his lips strongly clashing into yours. He lets out a deep groan of satisfaction at the contact. 

Your hands slide to the back of his neck, fingertips tangling in his dark hair as your lips move in synch. 

This time the kiss isn’t gentle and soft, it’s intense and full of need. 

You gasp for air as he pulls away only for your lips to capture his again. Your lipstick smudges down your chin as Heeseung sucks and nips at your swollen lips. 

You part your lips in invitation and Heeseung swiftly accepts. Gently pushing your lips open further with his tongue as he slips into your mouth. 

You whimper as you taste the remnants of his morning coffee on his tongue.

“God you’re so—“ Heeseung gasps as he pulls away an inch to catch his breath. Your lipstick smudged across his lips and chin. 

Heeseungs brows furrow as his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He pulls away, keeping one hand resting on your waist as he answers. 

The phone screen flashes ‘Riki’ with an option to pick up or decline.

“It’s my nephew— I have to take this...” Heesung grumbles as he keeps one hand resting on you, not wanting to completely pull out of the moment just yet.

“He’s sick? Fever?” You hear Heeseung say with a concerned tone of voice. His expression drops as he stays on the call. 

You watch with concern. After a few more moments of muffled talking from the other side, he hangs up. Letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Callum’s running a fever now…and I have a meeting at 4. I won’t be able to get to him and Riki just isn’t exactly—“

“Do you want me to pick him up?” You offer, secretly excited to see the little ball of energy again even if he is under the weather. 

Heeseung doesn’t even speak, he just kisses you again.

Another thank you, another promise. 

“I don’t want to push my luck— but if you wouldn’t mind.” Heeseung gasps against your lips. The tension was visibly relieved at your request.

“Text me the address, I’ve got you.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

**arrived**

The GPS beeps as you pull into the driveway of Heeseung's house. It’s a small modest home in a quiet neighborhood.

The outside was neglected. The grass was overgrown and the flowerbeds were messy.  

Heeseung pulls in right behind you. He swiftly puts the car in park, running right to your side. 

“How is he?” Heeseung asks frantically as he watches you lean into the backseat of your car to unbuckle Callum from his car seat. 

“He’s got a fever for sure, poor baby says his stomach has been hurting too.” You say with a sharp groan as you pull a sleepy Callum out of the backseat of your car. 

“There’s some medicine in the CVS bag up front I bought it just in case.” You say breathlessly as you balance a very sleepy Callum on your hip. 

Heeseung grabs the bag of medicine and locks up the cars behind you. He jogs awkwardly to catch up to you and unlock the door. 

Your heart softens as you step into the warmth of his home. The home is small but it looks lived in. 

Callum’s drawings on the fridge, days of unopened mail stacked up on the kitchen countertops, and Legos spilled across the carpet. 

You can’t explain the feeling any other way besides, right? 

Not perfect, just right. 

And maybe the imperfect is whats been filling that empty feeling in both of you. 

You kick your heels off at the door, letting your bare feet hit the carpet as you lie Callum down on the living room couch. 

He’s half awake, burning up, cheeks red. 

Heeseung is right behind you, opening up the medicine and pouring the syrup into a small cup. 

“Cal you need to take some medicine if you want to feel better,” Heeseung says softly as he kneels next to him. 

“No! I don’t like the red flavor it’s yucky.” Callum protests as he tries to knock the medicine out of Heeseungs hands. 

“Cal-“ he grunts with frustration as some of the medicine spills on his black suit. 

“Callum…” you say with a soft, soothing voice as you kneel next to him, your hands stroking through his hair. The same dark shade as his dad's. 

“If you want your tummy to stop hurting you have to take the medicine. You can do it, Callum..” you say softly as you rake your fingertips through his hair trying to calm his anxiety.

“I don’t wanna-“ Callum whines.

“What if I hold your hand? And we count to three?” You suggest lovingly.

Callum stirs but that seems to do the trick. You hold his little hand in yours as you start to count. 

“One”

“Two”

“Three”

With a sharp breath, Heeseung puts the cup to his lips, holding it there until he swallows it in a few shaky gulps. 

“There you go…see it wasn’t so bad.” You praise, gently patting his back softly. 

“You ready for bed Cal?” Heeseung whispers, his fingertips brushing against his forehead again to feel his fever.

“Is she leaving?” Callum whispers. 

You pause. Heart fluttering in your chest.

Are you leaving? 

“Can you tuck me in? That's what mommy used to do.” Callum asks, his little voice shaky as he sniffles.

You’re heart sinks. You don’t say anything.

You quickly glance at Heeseung for approval and he nods. 

You pick Callum up off the couch and Heeseung leads to down the dark hall to his room. There are toys all over the floor, mismatched furnishings, and the walls decorated with his finger paintings and prints of his favorite characters. 

You lie him down on the small bed tucked in the corner, pulling the blankets up and tucking him at the sides to keep him comfortable. 

Heeseung watches leaning against the edge of the doorframe. His heart felt warm and full at the sight.

He knows he can’t let you go tonight, not after this. 

He thought he could do this alone, thought he was the type of man that could juggle it all.

But your patience, your kindness, is something Heeseung hasn’t seen in a long time. 

“Can I have my dinosaur?” Callum asks his voice weak as he curls into the pillows and blankets with a cough. 

You pass him the dinosaur plush that was halfway tucked under the bed. Probably lost in the chaos of this morning. Callum grabs it and settles into the blankets.

“Thank you…” he says weakly.

Your breath catches, you know he’s not just talking about the plushie. 

“Sleep well Callum…” you whisper before gently pushing some of his dark hair away from his temple. You gently kiss him goodnight before turning to the door. 

Heeseung can’t look away. You look so perfect right now. And the way you handled everything it’s making his heart swell. 

The two of you file out of the door with unspoken words. Heeseung hits the lights and closes the door to Callum’s room. 

“Will you stay?” Heeseung asks, his eyes pleading like he’s begging you not to go. 

“Heeseung I—“ 

“Please I have wine.  I know it’s nothing compared to everything you’ve done for me, for us..” he trails off, his hands sliding between the two of your bodies to find yours. 

He laces your fingertips in his own, the motion taking the words out of your throat.

You know you should protest, but physically you can’t.

And you have to admit to yourself you want this just as much as him.

“Wine sounds perfect. And I’d kill to get out of this suit.” You reply with a playful breathy laugh. 

Heeseung lets you change into some of his clothes, a large oversized t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts. 

You step into the kitchen finding him dressed casually in gray sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt.

You bite your lip as you turn the corner. Your gaze lingers on his messy hair and casual attire. You’ve never seen him like this before.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy, single dad budget— you know how it goes,” Heeseung mutters as he opens the half-full bottle of red wine and pours it into two glass cups.

“I’m sure it tastes great.” You say as he motions for you to join him in the living room.

You sit next to him on the plush couch, fingers brushing against his as you take the wineglass from his hand. 

You bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of the liquid. Heeseung does the same. The air is thick, like there’s still so much left to say. 

“You’re incredible you know that? You got him to take his medicine without a fight. Sure you’re not casting spells on me?” Heeseung teases. 

You laugh, really laugh. It feels warm in your chest.

“God…Heeseung..” you say as you try to catch your breath. 

Heeseung chuckles too, his voice low and deep. He leans in, taking another sip of his wine as he turns to look at you. 

You can smell the fading scent of his cologne. You didn’t even realize how quickly the woody musk has become one of your favorite scents.

You lean in closer, letting your free hand rest on top of his.

“I always thought I would have this by now…a house, a family.” You say weakly. Your voice was shaky as you opened up to him in the quiet darkness of his living room. 

Heeseung doesn’t say anything. He just watches, just listens. 

“You know it was always homework in college then it was internships. Then it was hooking up with the wrong guy, then it was another who never wanted anything serious. It was just fail after fail.” You say with a bitter laugh as you hold back tears. 

“Then I just stopped looking, kept my head up, focused on work. And it paid off with the promotion it really did. But even with the raise I just felt so empty...” You say weakly as you blink back tears. 

There’s a quiet minute, neither of you says anything you just set the wine down and sit in comfortable silence. 

“Callum...wasn’t planned. At all.” Heeseung speaks up, his own voice shaky with emotion.

“I wasn’t in love with his mom. I was in college, was acting reckless, thought I was being careful that one time.” He says his voice dripping with self-depreciation. The tone makes your heart-ache. 

“Then she told me she was pregnant and that she wanted to keep him. So I stepped up. I got another job, took summer classes, and thought I could maybe redeem myself by showing up and doing the right thing.” Heeseung adds. 

“It wasn’t what I signed up for. But the minute Callum was born, the minute I became a father I just instantly had so much love for him. So I was determined to make it work with his mom.” Heeseung confesses. 

“She was bartending and taking classes, I was just starting with the company, and one night—she left for a shift late at night and didn’t come back. Found out she was killed in a car accident. That guilt, fuck it eats you alive.” Heeseung says, his voice shaking as he tries to hold it all together. 

You lean in, gently pulling him closer, just offering to let him rest or pull away. His arms reach around your waist, pulling you closer. 

“You’re doing enough, trust me.” You whisper into his ear as you pull him closer. 

His breath hitches, and he squeezes your waists tighter. “I didn’t expect to be a single dad at twenty-one god that just sounds—“

“Like a lot..yeah..” you finish. 

“But this with you..feels like the missing piece to a puzzle I didn’t even realize I was struggling to put together,” Heeseung confesses. 

Your heart stops at his confession. Your fingertips shake, this is exactly what you’ve been missing too.

Someone to lean on, a home to come home to. 

“I didn’t expect it to be you,” you whisper, still trembling from the confession. 

“Me either, but I’m tired of pushing this away,” Heeseung confesses. 

You kiss him, gasping into his mouth as you taste the sweet wine lingering on his lips. Your hands slide to the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. 

You don’t even realize tears are falling from your face until his hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing the tears away. You kiss him harder, pouring everything into the kiss. 

Heeseung pulls away gasping for air. His lips still mingling against yours, his breath shaky as he tries to hold himself back from diving in for more.

“Will you come to bed with me? I want to take my time with you. No interruptions” He suggests with a weak breathless laugh. 

You’re so breathless all you can do is nod.  

Heeseung kicks the room to his door open with his foot. He lies you down on the bed in the dark room. His breath was heavy and labored already. 

“Fuck..” he curses as she kisses you again, this time it’s hungry, needy. He lets his lips drag down your throat. And you can’t help but arch into his touch. 

Your hips arch off the bed and Heeseung lets out a sharp exhale. He reluctantly pulls away from your skin, his fingertips hooking inside the waistband of your shorts.

In one swift motion, he pulls them down tossing them to the floor. 

You gasp as the cold air hits your bare pussy, already starting to get wet from just his kissing. He doesn’t even bother to pull off the rest of your clothes.

He locks eyes with you as he spreads your legs, leaning in to drag his lips across the inside of your thighs.

“You’re so wet already? Goddamn, just from some kissing?” Heeseung asks rhetorically.

He spreads your legs and dives in. 

He lets out a deep groan of approval as his mouth finds your heat, his large hands keep your legs spread apart as he licks another slow stripe from your dripping entrance to your clit. 

“Heeseung God—“ you moan weakly as he holds you open more. He pushes up the fabric of your shirt so his hands can feel the warm skin on your hips and waist. 

“So fucking sweet…” Heeseung mumbles as he pulls away to catch his breath, only to gently kiss your inner thighs before his tongue slides across your folds again.

Your breath gets caught in your chest, the feeling of pleasure already starting to build in your core. Your hands tangle in his dark hair pulling him in closer. 

Heeseung drags his tongue through your folds like he is trying to memorize every inch. You gasp, feeling yourself dripping as his tongue flicks your sensitive clit.

Heeseung catches on, you like that. He drags his tongue back towards your clit and gives it more attention. He lightly sucks on it as your back arches off the mattress.

“You’re so good with him. Holding his hand, tucking him in—Do you have any idea what that does to a man?” Heeseung murmurs as he pulls away from you to breathe. 

You whimper as he kisses the inside of your thighs, your pussy shamelessly clenching around nothing as his mouth makes its way back to your place of need.

“That's it, soak me, let me give you a proper thank you.”  Heeseung mumbles into your heat. His tongue moves hot and fast like he’s been waiting to do this.

You feel yourself letting go. Your body relaxes under his touch, deep moans escaping from your throat as he eats you out with precision.

“Fuck keep going…” You moan as you prop yourself up on your arms to get a look at him between your legs.

He's deep in it. His eyes halfway shut as his hands grip tighter onto the back of your thighs. He’s completely lost in pleasuring you.

Your thighs tremble as he picks up speed, lapping at your aching clit between long, thick stripes up your folds.

He doubles down his efforts, squeezing your thighs tight, keeping them open as he sucks more ridged moans from you.

You curse, letting his name fall shamelessly from your lips as he pushes you to the edge. That familiar warm knot starts to pool in your stomach. Thighs trembling by his ears.

His tongue slides away from your clit, dipping into your wet hole to taste more of what you have to offer. His fingertips dig into your skin as he fucks his tongue into you with a low groan of satisfaction.

You’re wet, dripping, shamelessly letting it coat Heeseung’s lips and drip down his chin as he fucks his tongue into it with a steady pace.

“Oh, fuck I'm gonna come, Heesung—” You gasp breathlessly as your grip tightens in his hair. Your moans only grew deeper and thighs shook on either side of his head.

“Come for me, baby…Fuck I need it—” Heeseung gasps into your wet pussy, the sounds of his lips sucking at you only pushes you further.

He finds your clit again, tongue pressing harder as he traces patterns across it. Following your moans as he pushes you over the edge.

You let go. The orgasm is better and stronger than anything you could achieve with your vibrator. You shamelessly coat his lips and the sheets beneath with your hot arousal.

Heeseung gasps into you as he laps up what he can, you coat his face, wave after wave. Your clit buzzing with pleasure as he anchors his tongue to it.

He slows his movements to small, lazy licks as you come down from your high. Your grip loosens as your body falls limp onto the mattress. 

The heat flushes your cheeks as you bask in the afterglow, your body still twitching from the intensity of your orgasm. Completely overstimulated.

“Damn I can’t remember the last time I came like that..” you reply breathlessly. Your chest vigorously rises and falls as you struggle to chase your breath. 

Heeseung licks you one last time, savoring your sweet wetness before he pulls himself away. Wiping your juices off his lips and chin before he hovers over you. His large hands caging you in on either side of your head. 

“You should go ahead and throw away that vibrator. Now that I’ve got you I’m not letting you go.” Heeseung says with a playful smirk.

You cup his face as he leans in, kissing you slowly, his tongue languid against yours as he lets you taste your sweet essence on his lips. 

“Fuck need to be inside you. Holy shit—“ Heeseung says breath catching in his chest as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping into the waistband of his sweats before pulling them down.

He tosses them to the side letting his aching cock spring free. It’s thick, hard, and already leaking.

He doesn’t waste any more time. Heeseung guides you onto your back, his eyes locked on you as he spreads apart your legs just how he likes it, notching his sensitive tip into your wet entrance. 

He glances at you one last time for consent. You nod. 

He lets out a low groan as he pushes in. Your heat is tight, enveloping him and squeezing him perfectly. He takes his time sliding into you. Once he’s buried to the hilt he pauses.

“You were made for me—“ 

Heeseung starts to move, pulling out until just his swollen tip is notched inside only to grip your hips tighter as he slams back in. The wet sound of your body echoing off the walls.

“Mmm..you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this with you…” he confesses, his pace picking up slightly. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him for support. 

You only get wetter, his thick cock spreading you open deliciously with each thrust. 

You’re breathless as his thick cock slides against your walls, hitting spots inside you didn’t even know existed. 

“Fuck the way you’re squeezing me? Goddamn, you're making me want to make another baby…”

Heeseung mumbles as he grips the back of your knees, pushing your legs back towards the bed as he sinks even deeper into you. 

“Just imagine it, we could give Callum a sister, fuck imagine her with your hair and your eyes—“

You feel it again, that pit of despair in your stomach, that feeling of emptiness, that feeling of being broken.

“Heeseung…” you cut him off, your frustrated tone snapping him out of the mood. 

“Everything okay? Am I hurting you? He asks frantically, brows furrowing with confusion as he slows his thrusts. His breath is heavy as his hand moves from your leg to your face.

“Heeseung I can’t.” You say, your throat feeling like it’s being wrapped in barbed wire as you hold back tears.

“You can’t? Can’t what?” Heeseung asks as he stops his thrusts, his voice full of concern as his hands cup your face. Thumbs brushing across the softness of your cheeks.

“I can’t get pregnant, the chances are low.” You choke out, the words feeling like they’re being ripped from your heart.

You can’t help but start to sob after all these years dealing with this battle alone. 

Heeseung just holds you, his warm hands pulling you close. He doesn’t say anything right away, he just lets you cry. 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t know…” he whispers intimately like anything louder would break you even more. 

“It's okay, I’ve never told anyone this before.” You choke out as the aching sob comes to a stop. 

He’s still holding you, still inside you, still wanting you. 

He didn’t even flinch, he just held you. 

“I always told myself I didn’t want it, want this. The kids the mess, the family. Thought I could fill that emptiness by being the career girl.—" You say chest heaving as you whimper another sob.

“I can’t give you the life you want.” You whisper painfully. 

“I already have it.” Heeseung whispers against you as he holds you closer. 

“You, Callum, all of it. We can make it work. We could be a family again…” his voice trails off weakly. 

His words take the air out of your lungs, you can’t even speak, so you kiss him. 

Slow, deep, messy. Just like how everything so far has felt with him. 

And you wouldn’t want it any other way. 

His hands slide down your body again, hands gently holding your hips. He slowly starts to rock his half-hard cock back into you. His lips dragging away from yours. 

“Tell me what you need, do you want to keep going?” Heeseung asks, his breath heavy, his cock already starting to grow hard. Your warmth makes him choke back a moan. 

“Don’t stop..” you gasp, your eyes still watering from before. Heeseung leans down, his soft lips kissing your tears away as he slowly buries himself inside you. 

Heeseung takes his time, dragging his cock through your clenching walls only to push back in. His swollen tip kissing your cervix deep.

He just holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world. 

He fucks you like your fragile, not in an attempt to break you, it’s like he’s treasuring you instead.

The sounds of skin on skin fills the room, the squelch between your bodies is erotic. 

You can’t help but reach out to him. His hands hold you close, making you finally feel complete. 

He leans down to kiss you again, his lips reluctantly pull away for him to whisper. 

“I don’t need any more kids, not some perfect plan, you’re everything. And I love you, every part of you.” Heeseung confesses against your lips. 

Your world feels like it stops in that moment. After everything you've confessed, he still wants you.

Ans after everything he's confessed to you, you feel the same way.

“I love you too.” You choke out, trying to hold back another sob. Heeseung lets a breathy laugh slip past his lips. Like he can’t exactly believe this is happening, that this is real. 

You clench around him with a gasp, grounding him in reality. 

This is real. 

His hand slips between your slick bodies, fingertips finding you clit, still coated wet. 

“Fuck…Heeseung…” you moan into his neck. Your nails dug into the porcelain skin of his biceps. Your hips rock into his, chasing your release again. 

“Need you to come again, on my cock this time.” Heeseung gasps, his own hips jerking as he feels himself slipping towards the edge. His hand still rubbing small, torturous circles on your clit.

“Heeseung I’m—fuck so close—“ you whisper weakly. Your heart beats rapidly as you feel the warmth in your stomach again. Legs shaking as he pushes you over the edge. 

You come again, hands gripping him tight as he buries himself deep inside you. You clench around him, moaning his name as your toes curl with pleasure. Dripping wetness like a wave, the sheets below getting soaked. 

“Fuck, that’s it, I’m gonna come—“ he whimpers as he thrusts one last time hard and deep. He exhales as thick ropes of cum shoot into you. Painting you as his. 

He gasps your name as his cock throbs and he pushes deeper, letting your pussy squeeze out every drop of his cum. 

You don’t move, the two of you just lie there, heavy breathing echoing off the walls as cum drips down your inner thighs. 

Heeseung kisses you, his thumbs tracing small patterns right above the skin of your hips. He kisses you slow and deep like he’s telling you everything he couldn’t find words to say out loud. 

He breaks away, his sweaty forehead resting on yours. His eyes were half-lidded with desire, his softening cock still inside your warmth. 

“I love you.” He whispers, truthfully. There’s nothing else behind it. 

“I love you too.” You gasp back, tears threatening to spill again. 

With those words, it feels like the weight of the past falls away.

The path ahead isn’t smooth, but it’s a path worth walking. 

This time it’s not about the picture-perfect plan or the picture-perfect image. 

It’s imperfect and for once that’s enough. 

A beautiful second chance. 

For you and him.

*8 months later*

The timer for the oven beeps over the sound of laughter. You’re back in his home dressed in warm pajamas, bare feet on the kitchen floor.

You watch Callum as he plays in the living room with his toys. An old Christmas movie playing on the TV as the warmth of the house envelops you. 

You open the oven, and the scent of freshly baked apple pie fills the air. The heat from the oven is nothing in comparison to how full your heart feels. You set the pie on the cooling rack, turning to place the oven mitts back in the drawer. 

“Oh my God that smells amazing,” Heeseung says as he rounds the corner with a huge smile on his face.

“Apple pie, your favorite— You can thank the freezer aisle at Walmart.” You say with a soft chuckle.

Heeseung steps closer to you, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com. 

He looks you in the eyes, full of love. His breath hitches as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small folded piece of copy paper. 

“What’s this?” You ask softly. Take the paper in your hands and slowly unfold it piece by piece.

“It’s from Cal. I was just waiting for the right moment…” Heeseung whispers, his voice slightly trembling as he watches you.

Your heart stops. 

It’s a drawing with highlighters, a house scribbled into the background, a tall man with dark hair, a little boy with the same…

And a woman who looks a lot like you. 

Before you can even process it all Heeseung is in front of you, dropping to one knee. 

You can’t even breathe, he just smiles at you as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny red box.

“So I don’t have a speech planned, or roses or a photographer. But you, here, with Callum and I, it’s a second chance I never imagined I’d have. And I love you, and I want nothing more than to wake up beside you every day as my wife…”

“Will you marry me?”

His voice cracks, his hands tremble. 

You glance at the ring, and then back at him, proposing in the middle of the kitchen in his pajamas.

And it would be your greatest honor to become this man’s wife. 

“Yes. God yes.” You say breathlessly. Heeseung smiles with relief, he wastes no time taking the ring from the box and sliding it onto your finger.

It’s delicate and simple. No huge diamonds or lavish gold. But it’s more than enough.

He kisses you. His arms wrap around you like he never wants to let you go. You break away from his lips as you hear Callum barrel into the kitchen. 

“Did she say yes?!!” He asks as he hugs the both of you. 

You wipe the tears from your cheeks with a soft breathless laugh. 

“She did Cal-“ Heeseung says with a smile as he gives you another gentle peck on the lips. 

“Ewww are you guys going to kiss more now? That’s gross.” Callum groans. 

“You’ll understand one day Cal...” Heeseung mutters. 

You pull away taking the drawing in your hand and placing it front and center on the fridge with a homemade magnet. 

And you take one look around at everything. And the puzzle finally feels complete. 

This wasn’t just a new beginning.

This isn’t just a second chance, 

Maybe it was the right one all along.

© brokenengene

note: Thank you for reading this far! I hope it lived up to expectations! If it did I would love to hear about it! I was so emotional writing this chapter, definitely held back tears during editing. (Mostly because I'm painfully single right now 🥹) I'm so incredibly grateful for every comment, reblog, and like. It really means the world to me and inspires me to write for hours on end.

Again, I'm beyond grateful for the support. I wish you all the best. 💕

Written with love,

xoxo kate <3

masterlist!

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[rexhya]

Your anul writings are sooo good like i got hooked

Like imagine anuls dad saying he found a wife for him and reader starts distancing herself because the potential wife heard about how obsessed he was with reader and threatened reader that if she listened or obeyed him she would have her father kill them

yandere!prince who is livid at his father, who wants to kill the woman who's supposedly going to be his wife. ( as if )

Anul doesn't even bother trying to pretend to like her, he continues as usual. What he doesn't know is how this wretched woman has been treating you.

You're sewing together fabrics of Anuls clothing, ever since he'd learned you know how to tailor clothes he's been insistent that no one else but you touch them, a button on one of his shirts had broken.

You of course noticed the woman approaching you, her luxurious gown could be seen swaying from miles away.

"You, maid girl." the woman sneered.

You turned upwards to where she was standing, her chest puffed out proudly. "Yes?" you gulped, she was obviously a noble, though one you didn't recognize.

"Stay away from The Prince , and I mean it. I know you think he loves you, but's he just using you. He'll understand you're nothing but a bug on the wall once he meets me." she flipped her hair waiting for answer.

"Okay." you mumbled looking down, this wasn't worth your trouble.

But the woman wasn't done, "Dont get cocky, do you know who my father is?"

You pricked your fingers while sewing, "I'm not—"

"That's right, you're not anything, stay away from him or i'll tell my father what you've done, and trust me you won't like that." she didnt wait for an andwer as she stalked away, leaving you and your bloody pointer alone.

It wasnt long after this interaction that you began avoiding Anul, excuse after excuse eventually led hardly any interaction at all, and it wasn't like you didn't enjoy seeing the prince from time to time, its was simply for your own safety.

The woman had been watching you like a hawk, ready to catch you near him so she could punish you, or even worse, kill you. You didnt take any chances and went to great efforts to stay away from him, seeing as he was constantly looking for you on a daily basis this turned out to be quite dificult however you'd made things work.

Untill they weren't of course.

Anul was deeply upset, you were so slippery these days, everytime he wanted to see you there seemed to be something of great importance interupting his much needed quality time. You hadn't slept in his chambers in over a week! This needed to stop, and it needed to stop now.

A week and 3 days, and 4 hours since you'd been avoiding him Anul decides he's had enough. He knows everything about your routine, he decides to set a trap. A maid girl leaves a letter in your locker to head up to the head of the maids office, your terrible nervous of course, because of Anul you hadnt been exactly the most present untill this past week, you hoped you wernet being fired.

That wasn't the case at all, "[Name], so you really are alive!" you don't have time to answer before Anul swoops you off your feet and into the air, twirling you around in a way that delightfully makes you squeeze onto him.

He sets you down gracefully and you peer up at him, " My prince, what are you doing here?" you try to pull away but he has his arms locked on your waist an deliriously lovesick expression on his face.

"I missed you my love," he sighs burrying his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent.

You warm, it was weird feeling the sheer power of Anuls body after being away for so long.

"But what are you doing here! I thought i was in trouble, Ms. Jalei, she—"

Anul suddenly pulled away, a cold and angry look on his face, "We'll that's because you are, you''ve been avoiding and ignoring me [Name], you should tell me why." despite the coldness in his voice he sounded awfully hurt. Had being away from you really hurt that bad?

"I havent been—" you tried.

"Dont, I'm not in the mood." he stared, and you began to crumble, his gaze felt like starting into a void of pitch black smoke.

"I–" you voice clogged, when you thought about the woman. "Well, it's just that there was this noble. I don't know her name—"

"She threatened you?" he narrowed his eyes.

You nodded, it was an obvious conclusion to come to. Anul knew of his admirers, he simply didn't care for them. Then Anul did something unexpected, he sighed in relief. "Oh thank god, I thought you didn't like me anymore. You would never abandon me, how silly of me."

You didn't say anything to this, letting Anul rub his nose into your neck, he hadnt said it aloud but he'd been misreable without you, running on 4 hours of sleep because he couldn't fall asleep right away, accidentally cutting of this knight boy he'd sparred with, and not to mention the drinking, god, it got so bad his father almost gave in and demanded you back to him. His moaning and wailing kept the entire palace up.

"Well, that solves everything then," he smile was as wide as you'd ever seen if before. "Don't ever do something like that again, okay? Tonight you sleep with me."

You nodded again, you should've expected this, Anul wasn't one to give up to easily. He finally pulled back and away to peer at your face, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "You're so quiet, she didn't already touch you did she?"

You shook your head no again. Anul frowned. "Use your words."

"No"

He grins, "Good girl. My precious darling, It's been so long since we've last seen each other, I feel obligated to a kiss."

You blink rapidly, struggling to keep eye contact with the violet haired man, he loved it when you were flustered like this, "Well?" he whispered and softly your your lips open with a thumb, open-mouthed sucking on your tounge, you shivered, trying to ignore the prodding feeling between Anul's legs. He was just as flustered as you when he was done, crimson red coating his face.

"God, I can't believe I went a week without that, you're to never be away from me again you hear me? And don't worry about that woman, she'll be disposed of if it's the last thing I do."