Niana @nianawrites - Tumblr Blog

— Synopsis: Where you “unfortunately” caught your best friend's roomate—your unsaid enemy—masturbating in their shared apartment. — WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: smut, monster cock!seungcheol, explicit language and content, overstimulation, dry fucking, oral as a tongue massage (f. receiving)—a reward <3, body fluids (cum), dry humping, cock riding, dumbfication, degradation, aftercare, exhaustion, and DIRTY TALK.

here’s how it always goes with seungcheol:

you walk into a room, he immediately finds something to scoff at. maybe it’s the way you dress, maybe it’s the way you talk, maybe it’s just the fact that you exist in his general vicinity. but it doesn’t matter what you do—he hates you. or, at the very least, that’s what he insists on showing you.

joshua, your best friend and possibly the only person in the world who can tolerate both of you without losing his mind, always tells you to be the bigger person. “he’s not that bad,” he says, as if seungcheol didn’t practically hiss at you last week for sitting on his side of the couch.

but whatever. you don’t go out of your way to piss him off, and he doesn’t go out of his way to be nice. that’s just the way it is.

which is why you hesitate when joshua calls you:

“i swear, i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. i left my keys at your place before i flew out, remember?”

“okay, but i literally don’t want to step foot in his apartment,” you stress, cringing at the thought.

“it’s my apartment, too,” joshua deadpans.

you groan, already feeling a headache coming on.

“just go in, grab the folder on my desk, and leave,” he insists. “cheol probably won’t even be home.”

which is how you find yourself standing outside their apartment door, holding joshua’s keys and hyping yourself up like you’re about to enter enemy territory. which, in a way, you are.

butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway

"Just because I'm right, doesn't mean I'm being helpful" is a vastly underrated thought process that I strongly encourage others to get comfortable with

luvzayne

anomaly from the deepspace: you’re our future… WHAT?!

synopsis: you meet your kids from the future. the catch? you and him aren’t dating.

character/s: zayne, sylus, rafayel, xavier, caleb x f!reader (separate)

warning/s: none!

note/s: same names used from my previous dad!lads fic bc i honestly can’t be bothered to think of new ones. also, it’s been a while and i know i’ve disappeared for months but!! i’m back now <3. i hope yall enjoyed this one <3

zayne:

the doctor sat at his desk, typing away whilst simultaneously taking down notes from the thesis that he was reviewing. his hazel green eyes were focused on medical terms that he jotted down.

a soft knock interrupts his trance as a confused greyson enters the office holding the hand of a little girl who seemed to have finished crying.

dark-night-hero

Imagine being duke Zayne's knight. part 2

Imagine the way Zayne Li remembers the first time he saw you with a clarity that hurts.

Imagine it was winter, of course it was. The North never introduces anything without frost. His father returned from the border war with blood on his cloak and a child at his side. You.

Imagine you were small, too thin, eyes hollowed out by something no child should have survived. Your clothes were scorched at the hem and your hands clenched so tight around the strap of a satchel that your knuckles were white. You did not cry. You did not bow. You simply stood there, spine straight, gaze lifted not defiant, but determined in a way that unsettled him. A child who had lost everything and chosen to stand anyway.

Imagine, Zayne was still a boy then, fingers numb from cold, thoughts too sharp for his age. He watched you from the steps as his father spoke. "This one will stay." The Duke said. "They will be raised with you." Zayne did not know why, but something in his chest shifted. You looked broken. But not empty.

and Imagine in that moment, Zayne knew, without reason, without proof, that you would matter. That your presence would carve itself into his life until he could no longer imagine it without you. And he was right.

Imagine the way you grew together. You trained until your hands blistered and your bones ached. You fell into the snow and got back up without complaint. You learned the North's language, steel, silence, endurance, faster than anyone expected.

and Imagine the way Zayne learned you the same way. He learned the way your mouth twitched when you were about to smile but refused to. The way you went quiet when anger replaced grief. The way you lingered over wildflowers despite pretending not to care for them. He learned which scars you hated being asked about, which memories still made your hands shake when you thought no one was watching. He learned how to breathe around you.

so Imagine when his parents were murdered, betrayed by those they trusted, Zayne stood in black before the pyres, the future of the North crushing down on his shoulders. He did not cry. But you were there. Standing just behind him, armor too large for your frame, jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth. Your presence was a constant pressure at his back, solid and unyielding.

Imagine the way Zayne learned then that love did not always look like warmth. Sometimes, it looked like staying. And he loved you long before he had words for it. But love was a liability.

Imagine after that night, after blood stained the palace floors and trust died screaming. Zayne buried it. He wrapped himself in frost and distance and let the world believe he was cold. It was safer that way. For you.

and Imagine, on your eighteenth birthday, your debut as a knight, he gave you the necklace. He had made it himself. Cast the charm late at night, fingers shaking with exhaustion, magic woven carefully into silver. Protection. Reinforcement. A quiet promise disguised as metal and thread. You smiled when you accepted it. Zayne looked away.

because Imagine, that was the closest he ever came to saying I love you.

Imagine when the Saintess came with her proposal, Zayne's first instinct was refusal. Marriage was a chain. A spectacle. A vulnerability. But then she spoke your name. She spoke of visions. Of whispers in the capital. Of how his enemies had begun to notice that the Duke of the North did not walk alone. She told him she had seen you die.

Imagine Zayne did not sleep that night. By dawn, he accepted the proposal. It was strategic. Logical. Cruel in the way only necessary things could be. Marrying her would redirect attention. Assigning you as her guard would put distance between you and his enemies, and between you and him. Zayne told himself this was protection. That this was love.

Imagine the way he watched you train from the council balcony that morning. Your movements were sharp, precise, relentless. You always pushed too hard. "They're going to melt if you keep staring at them like that." The Saintess said lightly. Zayne startled, turning away too quickly. His ears burned red, easily mistaken for cold. She smiled knowingly.

Imagine the way they spoke of you. Of your discipline. Your loyalty. Your absurd refusal to rest. Zayne laughed. It surprised them both. The Saintess already knew his heart was not hers. Their marriage was temporary, an arrangement, a shield. When her role was fulfilled, she would leave. Zayne believed, foolishly, that you would still be there when she did.

Imagine the report came during a blizzard briefing. Ambush. Fire. The duchess's envoy was attacked on their route to the capital. And Zayne's first thought was not his wife. It was you.

Imagine he rode until his lungs burned and his hands bled. Every possible outcome ran through his mind, and none of them spared you. Zayne reaches the edge of the battlefield just as the snow begins to fall harder, ash and frost blurring the world into shades of white and red.

then Imagine, he sees you. You are running. Staggering, really. One shoulder slumped, blood dark against your armor, boots slipping in the churned snow, but you are still moving forward, still upright, still you. For one heartbeat, relief crashes into him so violently it steals the breath from his lungs. You're alive. You're alive.

Imagine you are carrying her, cradled close to your chest, her head lolling against your shoulder, unharmed. You did it. You protected her. Of course you did. That is who you are. And Zayne does not realize he has spurred his horse forward until it is already happening, until his body is moving before his mind can catch up. His hand lifts, mouth opening to call your name. And then the world slows.

Imagine it was not magic. It is terror. His gaze sharpens, the way it always does in battle, cataloguing details he wishes, desperately, he could miss. The way your steps falter for half a second. The way your grip tightens instinctively around her. The shadow behind you. Someone moves out of the smoke. Too close. Too quiet. Zayne sees the blade before he sees the man.

Imagine the way it catches the dying light, a brief, almost beautiful flash of steel. "No-!" The word tears itself from his throat, raw and useless, because he is too far away. Because the snow is too thick. Because time has decided to be cruel.

Imagine you turn your head. Not enough to see what's behind you, but enough that your eyes meet his. For the smallest fraction of a moment, recognition flickers across your face. Relief. Like you are thinking, He's here. It's done. I can stop now. Zayne's heart stops.

Imagine the blade drives forward. There is no dramatic arc. No warning swing. Just impact. Your body jolts sharply, breath punched out of you in a soundless gasp. The Saintess slips lower in your arms as your knees buckle, the world snapping back into motion far too fast.

Imagime the way Zayne screams your name. He does not remember dismounting. He does not remember drawing his sword. Only the way the man behind you falls moments later, blood spraying hot against the snow as Zayne barrels forward, too late, too late, too late-

Imagine Zayne catches you before you completely collapse. Your weight hits his arms wrong, too sudden, too light, like something already slipping away. He drops to his knees in the snow with you clutched against his chest, armor clattering, breath tearing out of him in a sound he does not recognize as his own.

Imagine there is too much blood. It seeps through his gloves, slick and warm, spreading fast, soaking into his sleeves as he presses his hands over your chest. His fingers shake violently. He cannot find where to press, where to fix, there is a blade, still embedded, impossibly real, impossibly deep.

"No." He says, voice low, already breaking. "No. Look at me." Your head tilts slightly at the sound of his voice. Your eyes flutter, unfocused at first, then slowly, painfully, settle on his face. And something in your expression eases. That is what breaks him. You look relieved. Zayne swallows hard, throat burning. "I'm here." He says quickly, desperately. "You're going to be fine. Just, stay awake."

Imagine he does not believe the words even as he says them. Your breathing stutters beneath his palm, short, uneven, wrong. Each attempt at air looks like it costs you more than the last. Panic claws up his spine, sharp and feral. You try to move. Your hand lifts weakly, fingers trembling as they brush against his breastplate. Zayne grabs it immediately, gripping too tight, afraid you will disappear if he loosens his hold even for a moment.

"Don't." He whispers. "Don't move." Your lips part. Nothing comes out. You swallow, chest shuddering, eyes squeezing shut for a heartbeat like it takes everything you have just to stay conscious. Then "It's…" The sound barely exists. Zayne leans in instinctively, forehead nearly touching yours. "What?" He begs. "Say it again."

Imagine your eyes open again, dull but stubborn, fixing on him with a faint crease between your brows, as if he is the one being unreasonable. "O… kay." The word hits him like a physical blow. "No." He says immediately, shaking his head, voice splintering. "No, it's not okay. Don't- don't do this." Your fingers tighten faintly around his, a weak, fleeting pressure. His chest tightens so violently it hurts.

"She…" Zayne shakes his head. "She's safe." He says quickly, too quickly. "She's alive. You did it. You protected her." Your gaze flickers, unfocused now, drifting past him, then back. "Sa… fe."

Imagine the way understanding lands like a blade between his ribs. You are not asking. You are reassuring him. Zayne lets out a broken sound, something dangerously close to a sob. His hands glow faintly as magic surges, reckless and unrestrained, pouring into you in desperate waves. The spell burns his palms raw. Nothing closes. Nothing heals.

"You're not allowed to do this." He whispers, voice cracking completely now. "You promised me." You never did. Your grip loosens. "No-" Zayne tightens his hold instinctively, pulling you closer, pressing his forehead to yours as if proximity alone can force life back into you. "Stay. Please. You always stay."

Imagine the way your body goes slack in his arms. The weight changes. The warmth remains but the tension is gone, replaced by something devastatingly still. Zayne freezes. For one unbearable second, he waits for your chest to rise again. It doesn't.

"No." He whispers. It is not loud. It is not dramatic. It is a command.

then Imagine someone reaches for him. Zayne snarls and shoves them away without looking, curling over your body protectively, armor clattering as he shields you with his own. Another hand grabs his shoulder. He lashes out.

Imagine it takes three knights to pry him away, their voices strained, boots slipping in the blood-soaked snow as he fights them like a wounded animal. Rage sharp, uncontained, terrifying. "Don't touch them." He roars, voice tearing apart. "Don't-" They pull him back anyway. Your body slips from his grasp.

Imagine that is when the North sees it. Not their Duke. Not their commander. Not the cold, unbreakable ruler of frost and steel. But a man on his knees in the snow, hands empty, breath broken. Holding nothing. That is the first time the North sees their Duke break.

Imagine when your body returns to the North wrapped in his cloak. Not linen. Not ceremonial white. Not a banner meant for heroes.

Imagine it was his cloak, heavy with his scent, still marked by old cuts and frostbite seams, the fabric worn thin where his hands always clenched it closed against the cold. It is clasped around you as if even now he is trying to keep you warm, as if the North itself might still hurt you if he does not.

Imagine no one argues with the choice. No one would dare. Zayne walks behind your bier alone. Not at the head. Not beside you. Behind.

Imagine his hands are bare in the snow, fingers red and cracked, unmoving at his sides. He does not look at the people lining the path. He does not look at the banners lowered in mourning. His gaze stays fixed on the dark edge of his cloak where it drapes over your feet, as if that is the only proof left that you are still real.

Imagine the way the Saintess follows at a careful distance. Her tears do not make a sound when they fall. They soak silently into the fur collar of her robes as she clutches the necklace you once wore, the chain tangled around her fingers like a prayer she does not know how to finish.

Imagine she tries to speak to him once. Just once. His name leaves her lips, thin and breaking in the cold. Zayne does not turn. Does not slow. Does not answer.

Imagine you are buried at the highest point of the North. Where the wind never stops. Where the snow scours stone down to bone. Where you once stood beside him and said quietly, almost shyly, that you liked the quiet up here. That it felt honest. That nothing could pretend to be gentle when it wasn't.

Imagine they lower you into the earth beneath a sky the color of steel. Your sword is placed beside you, edge facing outward. Not as a symbol. As an instinct. As if even in death, they cannot imagine you unarmed. As if part of them believes you are still guarding something. Or someone.

Imagine when it is over, when the last rites are spoken and the ground is sealed, people begin to leave in ones and twos. No one tells Zayne it is time. No one touches him. He kneels in the snow long after the wind has erased the last footprints. The cold gnaws at his knees, creeps through his boots, climbs his spine, but he does not move. Snow gathers slowly in his hair, melts against the heat of his breath, freezes again.

"I never told you." He says at last. His voice is hoarse, scraped raw by days of silence. "I never told you because I thought you would stay anyway." The wind does not answer. "I thought..." He continues, swallowing hard. "That you understood. That you knew I-" His breath stutters.

"I was ready." He says quietly. "To spend my life beside you as Duke and knight. As commander and vice. As friends, if that was all the world would allow us." His breath fogs the air. "Because I knew you would choose duty over yourself. Just like I would."

"I thought we had time." The words fracture there, small, helpless. "If I had known." Zayne whispers, voice finally breaking. "How little time you were given… I would have risked it all." His shoulders shake once. Just once. "I will live with that." And he does.

Imagine the North changes after your death. Not all at once. Not loudly. It hardens. Zayne becomes colder. Sharper. The pauses disappear. The restraint that once made his judgments terrifying is replaced by certainty. Orders are shorter. Mercy becomes rare. Traitors vanish. Borders bleed red. Those who oppose him learn fear not from his blade but from the silence that follows their names being spoken.

Imagine he never laughs again. Not privately. Not drunk. Not in moments when victory should demand it. The Saintess remains his wife in name only. They do not share a bed. They do not share secrets. They share an understanding carved from grief and guilt and things neither of them will ever say aloud. She never asks for his affection. He never pretends to offer it.

Imagine on the anniversary of your death, she climbs the mountain alone. She places flowers at your grave, wild ones, stubborn enough to survive the cold. She kneels only briefly. Long enough to press her forehead to the stone. The necklace is returned to the earth beside you. It glows once. Soft. Brief. Then fades forever.

Imagine Zayne visits you at night. Not always on important dates. Not always with purpose. Sometimes because sleep will not come. Sometimes because the silence inside the keep becomes unbearable. He tells you things he never told anyone else. That the North is peaceful now. That no one questions his rule. That the borders hold.

Imagine he tells you he still waits for you to argue with his decisions. Still listens for your footsteps behind him. Still turns, sometimes, convinced he has heard your voice carried on the wind.

"There is no one left." He admits once, voice barely more than breath. "Who calls me by my name without fear." His gloved hand rests on the stone above you. "I would give them all back." He murmurs into the endless white. "If it meant you were still here." The snow answers for you. It always does. It covers the mountain. It dulls the world. It preserves what it buries.

and Imagine somewhere beneath it, the one who stayed finally rests. While the Duke of the North lives on, not haunted by a love he failed to see, but by one he understood perfectly, and protected so carefully that it cost him everything.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026°

: uhm- this is not the spin off, but that also doesn’t mean that spin off has a happy ending, maybe, maybe not, idk- I'll update in days to come, the spin off.

cornusbooks

Productivity & Focus Hacks you can use as a student

1. Use the "Two-Minute Rule" 2. Define your "Most Productive Hours" 3. Harness "Parkinson's Law" 4. Batch similar tasks

leemoonaid

thedensworld

A New Vendetta| J. Ww

Pairing: Wonwoo x Mafia's daughter reader

Genre: arranged marriage au!, mafia au!

Type: angst, fluff, smut (mdni!)

Word count: 18k

Summary: Raised in an abusive family, you were thrown into an arranged marriage that overwhelmed you. Can you survive all of these?

Once you got into the cab and felt a hand cover your mouth with a cloth, a wave of dread swept over you. This was it, you thought. This was the end of your miserable life. You fought with every ounce of strength left in you, but as the world began to fade, your mind drifted to regrets you’d been holding on to. You could’ve accepted Mr. Seo’s offer for a date. You could’ve been kinder to your colleagues—especially Mrs. Chae. You could’ve treated your students with more warmth, if only you had known this was how it would end. Your end.

But then, somehow, you woke up.

You blinked against the dim light, disoriented, and slowly took in your surroundings. The posters, the bookshelves, the scent of lavender… You were in your old bedroom, the one you’d left behind four years ago. This was your parents' house.

You shot up from the bed, a dozen questions firing off in your mind. Hadn’t you been kidnapped? How were you here, of all places? You struggled to process, but then realization hit. This had to be your parents' or your brother's doing. They had found you...and forced you back.

"Welcome home," a low, familiar voice drawled.

serejae

BUT I THINK THEY CALL THIS LOVE | C.HS

IN WHICH…even when vernon is on tour, he always squeezes you in his schedule

gotta-winwin

OT13 Reaction -- when you ask them for an absurd amount of money as a prank

SCOUPS:

will transfer you the money, no questions asked. unless it's like an insane amount of money - like enough to buy a car - then he'd be concerned and ask why you need it. are you in trouble? are you being blackmailed? what can he do? he's ready to assist you in anyway possible and will be sulky when he finds out it's a prank. relieved, but a little sad that you'd even feel the need to test his loyalty to you.

JEONGHAN:

his immediate reaction is no. have you guys seen that interview where one of the members (i think it was dino? mingyu? my memory is so bad) said that jeonghan doesn't play when it comes to money and it lowkey stingy? yeah that. he'll definitely be hesitant and might even just flat out say no. extremely proud when you reveal it was a prank all along. i knew it was a prank, baby~ the student can't fool the teacher~

JOSHUA:

his immediately worried something terrible has happened. it's uncommon for you to ask him for money, usually its small enough sums that you don't even have to ask - you have his card anyways. stressed and annoyed when you tell him its all a prank. ai~ you know my weak heart cannot take you stressing me out.

JUN:

a little confused why you're asking him for money. he's the type to not catch on, you being in danger isn't the immediate thought when you ask him for 300 thousand dollars. will not react when you tell him it was a prank, the request for the money hasn't even properly computed in his head yet.

HOSHI:

he's going to complain he doesn't have that much money even though we all know he does. he'll agree to transfer it to you, but will whine and nag the whole time that this is his hard earned money! he loves you but why are you taking it away! another type to get sulky when you tell him its a prank and you don't actually need the money.

WONWOO:

ummm...why? he'll ask a shit ton of questions before agreeing, he needs to know why, when, what, where, who? all the details. this is his money after all, he needs to know where its all going. it gets to the point where you give up, just telling him its a prank cause his questioning isn't making it fun anymore. he tsks and asks if you have too much time on your hands to be pranking him.

WOOZI:

the money is in your bank account before you even finish asking. he's lowkey surprised you haven't asked sooner, he's always open with how much he's making and constantly tells you he'd just rather you guys have a joint bank account so he can spoil you. refuses to let you return the money once you admit its a prank. he makes more than enough anyways.

MINGHAO:

another one that's immediately worried. money's never been a topic you guys have ever talked about so he knows there must be something wrong. asks a boatload of questions trying to make sure you're okay and not getting scammed online or something. ends up just chiding you for even falling into a trap where you need that much money and narrows his eyes at you when you tell him its a prank. he thinks you're crazy and has too much time on your hands.

DK:

poor baby's scared. sure he makes a lot of money but he's never needed that much. eyes are popping out of his head when you tell him the sum of what you need. he agrees, of course, anything for you, but his hands are shaking as he reaches for his wallet. dramatically flops onto the floor when you tell him its a prank, begging you to never do that again - he might be rich but in his mind he's got like 5 cents in his bank account.

MINGYU:

blinks. pretends to think about it, but really he's been waiting for this day. the only possibility in his mind as to why you need the money is only for good things, and who is he to not spoil his baby? begs you to take his card anyways when you tell him its a prank. it's literally the only reason why i work, baby. just take my card.

SEUNGKWAN:

he's dramatic, screeching about how that's an insane amount of money and that he wouldn't even drop that kind of money on himself- and he loves himself very very much! calms down and genuinely sits your ass down to ask why you even need it. feels extremely betrayed when you tell him its a prank and vows to get revenge.

VERNON:

he sighs. he knows this trend and he's not having it. baby, you know i'd do anything for you right. you've got me like wrapped around your finger. you literally don't need to test my loyalty. apologizes when you get sulky over him already knowing the prank and offers to let you try again - this time he'll play along. ohmygod that's a lot of money are you being blackmailed? shopping in the black market? getting us a house in Bali? shrugs when you complain about his reaction being ingenuine and over the top. there is only so much he can do.

DINO:

his jaw is dropping at how large the sum is. yeah, he's got that money, and he'll show you his bank account just to prove it. but he'll start listing out what everything is for. that sum's set aside for our house, that one's to send our kids to school - we never said how many we'd have but i set aside enough to four university tuitions, and- you'll cut him off cause he's going to make you cry with how thoughtful he is. scolds him for ruining your prank. prank? he's confused. what do you mean prank? he got so invested in telling you everything he's saved up for your shared future he kinda forgot the original question.

wifeyoozi-deactivated20250301

Maybe we are soulmates

The idea of soulmates always felt a bit too fantastical for you, but right now, it didn’t seem so far-fetched. The way Jihoon had known exactly what you needed, without you even having to ask, made you feel a connection that went beyond words. (fluff // comfort ,, mentions of being soulmates but not a soulmate au)

hannieehaee

HIIII, i just want you to know every content of yours has always been my fav ,i always anticipate every single writing of yours .

I would like to request reader who is in a relationship with s coups , they have been dating for a very long time. in this scenario, he admires the reader being friends with all of Svt, and how she also loves them and treats them like her little brothers, the rest of Svt enthusiastically greeting her. scoups observes from a distance admiring you with the people he cherishes . he can't help but wonder how he became so lucky to have all these people in his life.

content: bf!seungcheol, established relationship, fluff, afab reader, etc.

wc: 749

a/n: thank u so much im so glad u enjoy my content :D!! hope u like what i came up with c:

masterlist

seungcheol knew he was lucky.

after putting his career on the line at a very young age by joining an unknown company and seeing himself forced to endure all types of trials to succeed, he was now showered with accolades on a daily basis.

he had his twelve brothers, a successful career, a healthy family, a daughter (in the form of kkuma), a loving fanbase, riches and wealth. he had everything a man could possibly want. and just when he thought he possessed every luxury known to man, you came along.