#PLEASE SEND MORE ASKS ABOUT THEM I LOVE THIS RARE PAIR | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lowkeyremi · 2 months ago

Note

Hey pookie, love your work and I hope you’re having a great day so far. I would like to request Haikyuu men x reader but instead of them giving reader silent treatment, we’re giving them the silent treatment. I would also prefer if it’s the same guys too. Hope this isn’t too hard and it’s totally fine if you don’t want to do it. Sorry if in any way it sounded rude, love your style and all of your posts ❤️

SILENT TREATMENT PT 2 !

pairing: suna, tsukishima, ushijima, osamu, sakusa, and iwaizumi x fem!reader (separate) note: hiii lovely!!! u don’t come off as rude at all so don’t even worry!! if anything I’m glad to write this. It’s just what I needed after coming back from my break. summary: men can be so irritating sometimes! what better way to deal with it than ignore them? (don’t do this irl, communicate is key!!!) content: slight angst to fluff, silliness, established relationships (marriage for a few + plus the same babies from the prev fic), cursing, reader is sassy, not proofread!!!! wc: 3.3k

SUNA:

“Are you seriously ignoring me right now, babe?” Rintaro stared into your soul waiting for an answer. He knows the answer already but he’ll do anything for you to talk to him.

Instead of giving him answer, you just scoff and make your way to the bedroom, where you will most definitely lock him out.

“Come on, I’ve already apologized. What else can I do?” The brunette is right on your tail. Sometimes you forget that his height allows him to cover more space than you. He’s practically right behind you.

“You can leave me the hell alone, Suna.” Last name treatment? Yep. He’s 100% fucked up. You know in his eyes it’s not a big deal but you see it as a big deal.

Your boyfriend was supposed to pick you up from work today but he had forgotten, and one top of that he went out and got drinks with his friends. Not to mention you waited a whole hour thinking maybe he was running late or something. Once you called him and realized he forgot, an uber was called and you went home.

Just as you’re about to reach for the doorknob of your bedroom, Rintaro grabbed your wrist forcing you to stop.

“Let. Go.” You say through closed teeth.

“Please listen to me,” He’s… pleading? Your boyfriend never pleads for anything- well that’s an exaggeration, he rarely pleads for things.

“Start talking.”

“As I said earlier, I am very sorry, baby. I felt like I was forgetting something today, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Next time you need me to come get you, send me a text an hour before you get off work, okay?” His voice is tender and soft. Nothing like his usually snarky and playful attitude.

There’s a petty urge to not forgive him just yet, but at the same time, he’s being super sincere and honest. All you do is sigh and take your hand out of his grasp.

“If you’re really sorry, buy me dinner.” His mouth ticks up into a small smirk.

“What do you want to eat?” He asks.

TSUKISHIMA:

Kei tries to go in for a kiss, again, with no luck. He’s looking at you with the most lovesick look, because you always fall for it.

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” He says AGAIN, which is a lie. He was laughing at you and of course you’re mostly immune to Kei’s quips and remarks, but you were feeling a little butt hurt after he laughed at you.

“You WERE laughing at me, Kei.” His long, pale arm reaches for the baseball cap on your head, but before he can take it off you grab his hand and squeeze it as hard as you can.

“Ow- shit, that hurts.” He says trying to pry his hand from your grip.

“Yeah well that’s how I felt when you laughed.” You let go of his hand and turn away from him. You’re both sitting on the couch but you’re facing away from him.

“I’ve already told you, I wasn’t laughing at you, it just caught me by surprise.” A little “hmph” leaves your lips and you cross your arms.

Before Kei went to go get the groceries you told him you were going to do something to your hair, a slight adjustment. He’d only been half listening at the time, so when he walked in to see your hair, he started to laugh on instinct.

Of course you felt insecure and went to put on a baseball cap to cover it up.

“Can I see it again?” He asks very softly, his hand ghosts over your shoulder and you don’t lean away from his touch this time.

“Fine, but I swear if you fucking laugh, you’ll have to asking Yamaguchi if you can stay over at his place cuz I’ll kick you out.” His angelic little chuckle blesses your ears.

“Kick me out of the place we both pay for?” He asks, quite assumed at your statement.

“Yes.” Before he can get another word in you slowly take the cap off for him to see.

His hand creeps toward your head, he hesitates right when he’s about to touch your hair.

“Can I?” He’s so polite despite how mean he can be.

In an effort to remain salty you say, “I don’t care.”

His fingers are so gentle when touching your hair that you feel little tingles in your body.

“It’s really cute, babe. Let me just-” He moves a baby hair that’s sticking out, then his eyes meet yours. They’re so beautiful, but so are yours.

“I’m sorry for laughing.”

USHIJIMA:

It had been an accident therefore he didn’t even realize you were ignoring him. He thought that maybe you just wanted some time to yourself.

You waited hours for him to realize you were upset with him, but it never came. If anything you thought he was ignoring you. (That wasn’t true at all though)

Nao notices his parents haven’t talked to each other most of the day, so he comes to you. It’s almost his bedtime and you see that Wakatoshi had given him a bath and he’s got his pajamas on.

Little Nao climbs up your bed and crawls up to you, “Hi baby, what’s up?”

“You not talkin’ to Daddy?” Nao is very perceptive for a three year old.

“Um.. no.” He tilts his head at your response.

“Why?” How can you explain it in kid terms??

"Mommy's not happy with Daddy right now." He nods in understanding but proceeds to ask another question.

“Oh. But why?” Now that you’re thinking about it, it’s kind of childish.

This morning when the two of you woke up, Wakatoshi had asked if you’d seen his wedding ring. Then, proceeded to explain that he had taken it off when he went to work, because he left the chain he usually wears it on at home. So, he assumed it was somewhere in his bag. Of course he found it, but it just ticked you off that he had taken it off with little regard for it.

“A little disagreement is all.” Your son nods again and gives you a hug. He doesn’t like when you guys get into the occasional argument.

They don’t happen often, because you two are able to work stuff out. When they do happen you both agreed that they shouldn’t be in front of your son. Not only because it’s not right, but because Wakatoshi had grown up in a household where his parents constantly argued with little regard for how he felt on the matter. He would never subject Nao to that.

“It’s time for bed, Nao.” Wakatoshi says. How long has he been standing there?

“Okay, Daddy.” Nao kisses your cheek before scurrying off of your bed. Since he’s not good with noise control yet, you over here him asking Wakatoshi to make up with you, because he doesn’t like when you guys are unhappy with each other.

After twenty minutes your husband returns. “So you were upset with me?” It’s so like him to get straight to it.

“Yeah, I was kind of ignoring you until you came to me, but I forgot you can’t really pick up on those queues.” He nods, almost abnormal like. He rids himself of his shirt and turns the lights down.

After he’s done doing that, he joins you in the bed.

Right as you’re about to explain yourself he speaks up, “it’s because I had forgotten my ring, right?”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

“Yes, and I see now that it was childish of me. You’re human, we all slip up.”

“No, no, I understand. I think I would be a little upset if you’d taken your ring off and tossed it somewhere.” He says, olive colored eyes looking into yours.

“You tossed it?” He shakes his head at the misunderstanding.

“I did not. I was just using it as an example.” Relief washes through you and you scoot closer to hug your husband. His skin feels so warm.

“Okay, good.”

“Are we alright now?” He asks hugging you back.

“Yes.”

OSAMU:

Never in a million years would you have thought you’d be staying at Atsumu’s place instead of your shared home with his brother, but yet here you are.

Speak of the devil Atsumu knocks on the guest room door and you tell him to come in.

“What’s up?” You’re pretty sure he’s going to ask you to talk to his brother. He’s been calling and texting you for the past three days. He’s probably been calling Atsumu too.

“Can ya just talk it out with him? ‘Samu’s been blowin’ up my phone, ‘n I know he’s probably been calling ya, too.” He looks tired of the both of you and you feel bad putting him in the middle of this mess, but there’s no way you’ll be talking to your husband anytime soon.

“No.” Atsumu sighs almost knowing you would say that.

“He’s worried about ya, ‘n I’m sure he’s very sorry too.”

Three days ago Osamu had a very busy and stressful day at the shop, it was just awful. When he arrived home it was evident that his day was shitty, so you tried to cheer him up.

That only made matters worse, as he proceeded to yell at you to “leave him the fuck alone.” and “your voice is making my head hurt.” Even though you knew he was saying that in the heat of the moment and he didn’t mean it, it still hurt to hear.

You yelled back at him telling him that you were doing what you could to make him feel better and that he was an asshole. When he didn’t say anything in return you rushed to the bedroom to pack a few days worth of clothes and get the hell out of there.

Was that a little bit extra? Yes. You could have probably just slept in your own guest room or on the couch, and then talk it out in the morning, but you were so pissed that your logic went straight out the door.

“Well… er… I-” You could see the guilt in Atsumu’s eyes when a string of loud knocks were heard.

“You called him over?” Atsumu looked away as not to meet your eyes.

“I caved when he said he was worried about ya ‘n ya didn’t even tell him where ya were goin’” Atsumu faked a cough before excusing himself to get the door.

Within seconds you see your husband standing at the bedroom door and your heart breaks when you see him. It had only been three days (2 nights) and he looked exhausted and miserable.

Before you could get a word in he dashes over to you and embraces you in a tight hug.

“Baby ‘m so so sorry.” He chants over and over.

“Please don’t do that again, ya scared the livin’ shit outta me.” Osamu was always better at hiding his accent than Atsumu, but when he was really stressed it would come out.

“I didn’t mean for you to worry like that, ‘Samu. I didn’t really think when I left.” He sits himself down on the bed not letting you go, he places you on his lap and you’re basically straddling him.

You squeeze him back just as tight. “I was so mad that you talked to me like that.”

“‘n I’ll never do it again. Even on my bad days ya don’t deserve that.”

You take in a big whiff of his cologne and you audibly relax in his arms.

“You better not because I might slap you next time.”

“Feel free to.” He says.

Atsumu ruins the moment with the most obnoxious fake gag, “Are ya straddl- actually I don’t fuckin’ care. Do that at yer own damn place!!”

SAKUSA:

When you woke up to your alarm, you realized Kiyoomi already left for work. Which that in and of itself wasn’t a problem. It was the fact that he left without dropping your daughter off for school.

Not to mention that you had a very important meeting with a client today. You got ready for work thinking about how you were doing well on time… until you noticed your daughter’s lunchbox sitting on the counter with nothing in it.

In breakneck pace, you ran to your daughter’s room to see that she was peacefully sleeping. “Oh baby, wake up we’ve got to go.” She starts to gain consciousness, her eyes squinting open when you turn on the light.

“Huh? I thought Daddy was taking me today.” Your little girl rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“He was but I guess he already left,” you search frantically for something simple but presentable for your daughter to wear.

“Oh, you’ve got your fancy business outfit on… is there something important today?” You’re so grateful to have a daughter who can read between the lines.

“Yes, there is but Mommy’s gonna be late.” She frowns up at that.

“Sorry.”

“Honey it’s not your fault, your father was the one who was supposed to take you.” She nods.

The two of you work together to get out of the house quickly so you won’t be that late.

Your daughter will only be running a few minutes late for school… as for you, your meeting started four minutes after you started driving to her to school, and the school is a twenty minute drive.

You’re gonna fucking kill your husband for this.

When you get to your daughter’s school she hops out immediately and says her goodbyes.

“Bye sweet girl! Have a great day at school!!” Of course you won’t let your anger get the best of you… for right now.

Luckily, your client was kind enough to excuse you being almost thirty minutes late, but it was still embarrassing nonetheless.

Some of your coworkers teased you a little bit afterwards.

“Slept in?” One who’s particularly close to you (he calls you his work wife and Kiyoomi hates it) asks nudging your arm.

“Nope, my husband forgot to take our daughter to school this morning.” A loud sigh leaves your lips and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Yikes, bet he’s gonna be in the doghouse for awhile.” He snorts.

“Hell yeah he will be. I’m just wondering, how in the world did he forget?? He’s better at remembering things between the two of us.” And that’s the truth. You’re curious as to what his excuse will be.

“Well he’s human too, ‘course he’s bound to screw up at sometime.” Even though he’s right, you let your pettiness take over and decide that you won’t give Kiyoomi the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m home,” you hear your husband shout from the genkan. Your daughter is at the table doing homework and you’re sitting with her browsing through your phone.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He walks in to the kitchen greeting his daughter with a kiss on her forehead.

“Hi, Daddy.” She says with a small smile.

“Hey baby.” As he leans in to kiss your forehead too, you dodge it.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “You okay?” Kiyoomi smells like his body wash and shampoo. Usually you’d be happy to have your nostrils filled with the smell of his post practice shower, but right now it just upsets you.

You got up from the table and walked away without answering his question. He obviously attempted to follow you to the bedroom, only for the door to be shut in his face.

“Hey what’s up with you?” You can hear the irritation in his voice through the door. He has no right to be irritated though.

Instead of answering him you make yourself comfortable on the bed.

After ten minutes of him trying to ask you what was wrong and literally begging you started to feel bad enough and open the door.

“What’s wrong is that you forgot to take our daughter to school this morning, causing me to be late to a very important meeting with a client.” His eyes widen in horror at your statement.

“Shit, I’ve been so focused on how I was going to go about this upcoming fan event for the past couple of days, that I completely forgot. You have every right to be mad.” Right, your husband still isn’t very social, and he still hates receiving gifts from his fans. Of course he’d been trying to figure out how to make an appearance, but not interact with anyone.

“Damn right, luckily my client was nice but it was still embarrassing.” He frowns.

“I apologize, and I’ll make sure to do better next time.” You roll your eyes and pull him in for that kiss.

“Yeah yeah, I guess you forget things too.”

IWAIZUMI:

Iwa hasn’t realized it, but while helping out this girl at the gym (he’s an athletic trainer and he couldn’t sit there and watch that girl screw up pull ups any longer) he was so oblivious to her obvious flirting.

She would bend over in those tight leggings, or hold onto his bicep for support. And yes, it was dumb for you to be upset with him, because one, you’re his wife and he only has eyes for you, and two, he didn’t even realize she was flirting with him.

“How are your sets coming along, baby?” He came over to ask you while the girl was getting water. Yeah, you know how to do all of these work outs, but you like having your man right there to spot you and correct your posture in the slightest way.

You pretend you don’t hear him, because you’re listening to music in your headphones. To sell the deal, you even mouth the lyrics of the song.

He raises a brow in concern. As soon as he goes to say something, the woman returns, “Iwazumi-san? I’m ready to continue!”

“I’ll be back.” He says, running back to that woman. You roll your eyes as you come down for a squat with a 25 lb kettlebell in your hands.

By the time you’re cooling down on the treadmill, Iwaizumi returns to you.

“What’s wrong with you?” He knows you can hear him, because even when you’re working out together, you keep your headphones at a reasonable volume, so you can hear him.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s up with you letting that woman touch all over you?” In an effort to ignore him again you turn the speed up on the treadmill.

“Really? Baby, you know my job requires me to touch people.”

“God, I know that. I’m not even talking about you, I’m talking about how she was all over you, and you didn’t even notice or anything.” He’s laughing? You just told him how you feel and he laughs?

He walks over to the front of the treadmill where all the buttons are and slows it down to a walking speed.

“Honey, I told her to stop touching me more than what was necessary. It was indecent and inappropriate. Then I told her I was married to you and I think she decided to keep going…” He pauses for a second waiting for you to come to a walking pace.

“Wanna know what I told her next?” He takes your silence as a sign to keep going, “I said ‘I suggest you stop provoking my wife, she knows how to fight and I would hate to see her behind bars for something like this.’” He smirks at you and you look away in embarrassment.

“And you were really going at it during your workout so I’m assuming she took my word for it.”

You stop the treadmill and hop off to stand right in front of your husband.

“Sorry for being so petty.” He just smiles at you.

“No don’t apologize, I don’t blame you babe. I’d be the same way if some guy was all over you, with no good reason.” You grab him by the collar of his compression shirt, “You’re so damn hot. Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

Note: last purple post!! 🥹 since i started this while my theme was purple. the hardest part of writing this was coming up with something sensible to be upset about 😭

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starryhyuck · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: ex!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 9.2k+

summary: you left with jaehyun’s son three years ago. an opportunity arises that may push you together for better or for worse.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: penetrative sex, rough sex, public sex, daddy kink, pussy eating, cum eating, creampies, breeding kink, spanking, possessiveness, some yandere vibes

“Got yourself all dressed for dad?”

Your five-year-old son hums happily, thumbs looped through his backpack straps like he’s afraid it’s going to run away from him. You smile and comb your hands through his hair, slightly frightened by how fast he’s growing.

The knock on the door takes you out of your head before you can dwindle on how your son is slipping away from you. You smile at Jaehyun behind the door, who offers a tight-lipped one in return.

You kneel down once more and tap on your cheek. “Give me a kiss before you leave, sprout.”

Your son giggles before planting a messy kiss on your cheek, wrapping his tiny arms around your neck.

“Bye, mom! I love you!” He practically hops away from you in excitement, running into his dad’s arms with pure joy.

You nod politely at your ex, who wraps his arms around your son and holds him to his chest.

“Hey, little bear. Missed you,” Jaehyun laughs, kissing your son’s forehead.

“I missed you too, dad!”

You clear your throat. “Do you want me to come pick him up on Sunday?”

Jaehyun’s eyes return to you, cold and distant like they have been for the past three years. “I could drop him off, it’s no issue. I canceled all my meetings on Sunday.” You wonder if he’s trying to imply something, as if the time taken off means anything to you.

You brush it off. “Sounds good. Be good to your dad,” you give a final warning to your son, who does nothing but wave his hand in return.

You’re about to close the door until Jaehyun quietly speaks up. “I needed to ask you something.”

You ignore the loud sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You simply nod, urging him to continue. He clears his throat, feeling a bit awkward as your son impatiently waits for his dad to take him to his other house. It’s rare for Jaehyun to linger around like this.

“My parents — they’re having that annual anniversary party again in Seoul. They asked me to invite you.”

You’re surprised, to say the least. You haven’t been invited to an anniversary party since you and Jaehyun separated. His family was extremely heartbroken when you left and as a result, you haven’t communicated with them since. The anniversary party, however, was a huge celebration in the Jeong family. It was a mark of success since Jeong Corporation opened almost twenty years ago, and the company has now founded themselves as one of the largest in Seoul.

“Um,” you stutter, unsure of what to say. You understood what the anniversary party implied — one whole weekend with your former second family and more importantly, Jaehyun.

“Don’t- You don’t have to make a decision now. You can tell me on Sunday if you’re ready.”

You nod reluctantly, and he sends you another tight-lipped smile before departing. You watch as he and your son drive away, leaving a hole in your heart as they go.

—

“No way. He wants to fuck you again!”

“Johnny!” You scold, feeling extremely embarrassed already. “He is not! He’s just trying to be a good son, you know how he is.”

Johnny laughs sarcastically. “Yeah fucking right. Dude, it’s the Jeong anniversary party. That shit is photographed like crazy. He knows what he’s doing when he’s inviting you to go with him.”

“He’s not inviting me to go with him,” you clarify for him, even though Johnny is throwing you a side eye as you hand him a cup of warm tea. “He’s just inviting me to attend.”

He rolls his eyes. “Please. He’s been waiting for this moment with you for so long. Especially after you left him like that.”

You swing at Johnny’s arm, causing him to clutch it dramatically and hold the end of your kitchen counter as if you just shot him. You glare at him. Even though it was still a sore subject, he found a way to bring it into conversation from time to time since he thought it was the worst decision you had ever made.

It was three years ago when you left Jaehyun, taking your son and finding a new place all to yourselves. Jaehyun was shocked to say the least, heartbroken that the love of his life took his child and ran. It obviously wasn’t your first choice, but you spent too long waiting for him to come home only to be disappointed continuously. Jaehyun was just starting to become a big name within the company, wanting to work up the ladder and prove himself to his father and to the public. As a result, he spent most nights sleeping in his office and growing farther apart from you and your son. You reached a point where you couldn’t handle being abandoned any longer, leaving him and giving him his first wake-up call.

Jaehyun, like everyone else, thought you were only playing a game with him at first. No one believed you would actually separate from each other, especially because you two were so in love. However, you decided you needed to do what was right for your son. You couldn’t handle the lonely nights when your son would ask when his dad was coming home.

The custody agreement was simple, and Jaehyun agreed to whatever terms you laid out for him. You allowed your son to see Jaehyun every other weekend, and Jaehyun made sure to take work off whenever he had him. He was really trying, which you could see, but it wasn’t enough.

You’re not sure if it’ll ever be enough again.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you mumble to Johnny, already mentally rejecting the idea of attending the Jeong anniversary party. “I mean, you know us. Our feelings get carried away all the time.”

Johnny frowns. “Are you saying you still have feelings for him?”

You sigh. Johnny has been your number one support system since you left Jaehyun, and despite his help towards adjusting you to a life as a single mother, he always rooted for the two of you to get back together.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you say clearly, stirring around the small spoon in your cup. You refuse to look up, knowing he can read you like an open book. “I’m just saying that being together for that long can cause cloudy judgment, you know? Plus, I don’t want anything to become confusing for all parties included.”

He shrugs, knowing you’re mainly talking about your son’s inability to understand why his mom and dad are suddenly spending time together. “I think the little sprout would like to have a weekend with both of his parents. He hasn’t had that since two birthdays ago.”

You recall your son’s third birthday party, which was the first festivity after the split. You awkwardly invited Jaehyun to come since you felt obligated, but it only resulted in tension while cutting the cake and opening presents.

“I know,” you whisper, feeling down. Your son asks you from time to time why his dad doesn’t stay when Jaehyun drops him off after a weekend together, and it always breaks your heart when you have to gently explain that his dad has work to attend to. Seeing the dejected look on your son’s face reminds you why you decided to leave in the first place. “But don’t you think it’s weird? Why would his family even want to see me again? I thought they hated me for leaving Jaehyun.”

“Yeah right,” Johnny laughs. “You saw the headlines after you guys split. Jaehyun started fighting so often with his parents. You know they loved you to death.”

“That might have been true before. I’m still the bitch who stomped all over their son’s heart and took their grandson away.”

“Hey,” Johnny scolds, hating when you speak lowly of yourself. “Anyone with eyes could see he was treating you miserably. It was completely fair for you to have temporary space.”

You ignore the fact that he implies the separation is still temporary.

“I’m just not sure, John. I don’t think it’s a smart idea.”

“Well, I think it’s a great one,” he smiles, brushing off your heated glare. “Listen, you can’t keep ignoring him like he’s the plague. If you don’t want the little sprout to have daddy issues when he’s older, you need to start getting along with Jae better. Just act civil, that’s all anyone’s asking of you.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Will you come get me if I text you?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Your shoulders eventually slump in defeat, and Johnny throws his arms up in victory.

—

You’re extremely anxious when Sunday afternoon arrives, which is usually when Jaehyun comes by to bring your son back. You try to shake the nerves out and remind yourself to do what Johnny told you.

Just be civil. You can do that.

You nearly jump out of your socks when Jaehyun finally knocks on the door. You shakily open it, offering him a small smile as your son comes barging through. He attaches himself to your leg, grinning widely as he waves a new coloring book in his hand.

“Look what dad got me!”

“Wow,” you speak incredulously, kneeling down to give him a kiss. “That was very nice of him. Did you say thank you?”

“Yes!” He exclaims with glee. “Can I go color, please?”

You laugh. “Give your father a kiss goodbye first, sprout.”

Your son hurriedly kisses his father’s cheek when Jaehyun leans down, rushing off to his room afterwards.

You chuckle again. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”

Jaehyun hums. “Of course. He really wanted it, and I wanted to do something special for him.”

You nod and the conversation settles into unbearable silence. You start gathering the courage to accept Jaehyun’s invitation before you wimp out but he talks before you can get the chance.

“Listen, about what I said on Friday, you can forget about it if it makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t want you to feel obligated, I just knew if I didn’t pass along the message, I would get hit on sight.”

You smile, thinking about how dangerous his mother could be when her son disobeys. “No, it’s completely fine. I mean, if it’s still okay with you, I would like to go.”

His eyes light up in surprise, and it’s the first time Jaehyun’s let his guard down with you in a while.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d want to.”

You shrug. “I think it would be nice. I’m sure the little sprout would enjoy a weekend with both of his parents too.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling genuinely. You forgot how much you missed seeing him so happy, dimples peeking out. “I know he would. He was talking about how excited he was today, getting dressed in a little suit and everything.”

Your heart warms at the thought of your son dressed so handsomely. “He would be adorable. Center of the party, I’m sure.”

“Of course. You know my mother never misses a chance to show him off,” he chuckles.

“Well, I look forward to seeing what they’re going to try and pull off this year. I’m assuming your mother is making it as lavish as possible,” you joke, knowing how elated his mother was when the Jeong Corporation finally gained enough funding to throw a large-scale party.

“You know it,” he agrees, eyes sparkling in the way they used to. “I could, um, I could give you more details if you’d like.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling slightly flushed. “Sure, that sounds nice.” You open the door wider for him, stepping back so he can come inside.

It’s the first time you’ve really invited Jaehyun in. He came once for your son’s birthday party and a few other times because your son really wanted to show Jaehyun some toys from his room, but never once fully initiated by you.

“Can I heat up some coffee or tea for you?” You ask politely.

“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you,” he says, following you to the kitchen.

He takes a seat on one of the kitchen stools — the same spot where Johnny told you that Jaehyun clearly wanted to fuck you again. You clear your throat, tossing the memory aside.

“So, is there a dress code for the party? Do I need to go out and get anything?” You question, starting to brew Jaehyun’s favorite blend. The both of you choose to ignore the fact that you still remember how to make his coffee just the way he likes it.

“They were endorsing a blue and white theme this year, but you don’t have to follow those rules, of course,” he assures you.

You shake your head, turning back to him and smiling. “I will one hundred percent abide by that dress code. You know how picky those businesspeople are.”

He chuckles to himself, fiddling with his fingers nervously. You wonder if he’s just as anxious as you are.

“Right, forgot about that. So I’ll come pick up you and the little bear Friday night?”

You nod. “That would be nice. Thanks, Jaehyun.”

“Of course,” he replies, thanking you when you hand him his coffee. “The party shouldn’t last for more than two to three hours on Saturday, but you know how my father gets with the speeches.”

“He’s just proud, that’s all. It’s not everyday a company you built from the ground turns so successful.”

He nods. “Every company comes with its sacrifices though.”

You swallow at him alluding to your separation. Luckily, you’re saved by your son, who comes running into the kitchen.

“Dad!” He exclaims happily. “You’re still here!”

Jaehyun laughs. “Just having a conversation with your mom, little bear. Did you color something already?”

Your son nods, already eager to showcase his coloring skills. Jaehyun situates him on his lap, listening as your son details the process of what colors he chose and what the monkey is doing exactly in the picture.

You grow fond at the sight, not seeing Jaehyun with your son like this in so long. You never doubted that Jaehyun loved him with his entire heart, you just always wished he made more time for the both of you.

“And who did you color this for, little bear?” Jaehyun asks softly, kissing his son’s temple.

“Mom, of course!” Your son says with certainty, and Jaehyun helps him rip the picture out of the book so he can hand it to you.

“Thank you so much, sprout. I’ll cherish it forever,” you promise, clutching the paper to your chest.

Your son has an affinity for coloring and drawing, and as a result, most of your fridge and walls were covered in his artwork.

“I’ll make one for you too, dad,” your son swears, wiggling out of Jaehyun’s arms until he’s back on the floor. The both of you watch him zoom off, warning him not to run too fast.

Jaehyun smiles. “I should get him those coloring books for adults. I feel like he would love them.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah right. He only enjoys these because they have animals in them. Give him a crazy pattern and he’ll give up coloring forever.”

He laughs before agreeing with you. A part of you missed this — the happy laughter and talks of your son with someone who also wanted the best for him.

“My mother’s set up a private cabin for us for the weekend,” he shares, avoiding your stare. “But I can always have the driver take you and the little bear back here if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” you say, briefly surprised by the fact that Jaehyun’s mother set all of you together. You would think she wants you as far away from her son as possible.

Jaehyun takes your response badly, face twisting into a grimace. “It’s no problem. I’ll tell Doyoung that you would prefer coming back here instead of staying the weekend.”

“No!” You exclaim, flushing by how loud your voice rose. “I mean, I was just shocked your mother did that for us. I thought she didn’t like me anymore.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows shot up. “My mother? The same one that wanted to buy us an island when we told her about the pregnancy?”

You chuckle. “That was out of the kindness of her heart, Jaehyun.”

“Please,” he scoffs. He takes the coffee mug you hold out for him. “She loves you more than anything. Nothing between us would change that.”

You smile, ignoring the nerves slowly creeping up every inch of your body.

—

“Johnny, put that back!”

“Why? It’s sexy!”

You grab one of your throw pillows and chuck it at Johnny’s head. He dodges just in time, rolling his eyes and putting your lingerie back in your drawer.

“I’m just saying, you never know what’s going to happen. You’ll regret it later when you’re trying to fuck Jaehyun and you have nothing but granny panties.”

“I regret asking you to help me pack,” you sigh, trying your best to fit everything you need this weekend for you and your son in a small suitcase.

“I’m going to ignore that comment since I’m willingly giving up my Friday afternoon for you. When was the last time you went shopping?” He asks.

It actually takes you a minute to stop and think about your answer. Ever since your son was born, your wardrobe has mainly consisted of haphazard pajamas. The only time you really went out and purchased clothes is if you were attending one of Jaehyun’s fancy events.

“All of these clothes are way out of season! How have I not noticed this before?” Johnny complains, rifling through your drawers. “We need to go shopping.”

You groan. “It’s too late for that. Jaehyun is picking us up tonight!”

The doorbell rings and you sigh again, massaging your temples in an attempt to make the headache go away. Johnny takes pity on you and answers the front door himself. You hear hushed whispers before he comes back into your bedroom, a smile on his face as he carries a large box in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that?”

“A special delivery from one Mr. Jeong Jaehyun,” Johnny replies, a smirk evident on his lips.

You’re still trying to recover from the shock of Jaehyun sending you anything before you realize Johnny’s ripping open the box. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning and you can’t help but lean over to see it too.

In the box is a beautiful, satin white dress that looks like a red wine lover’s worst nightmare. However, you can barely focus on the color when you can recognize exactly where this dress is from.

“Dude,” Johnny says in a small voice, sounding breathless. “It’s your wedding dress.”

And if this wasn’t your wedding dress — it sure as hell looked a lot like it. You remember the day you picked it out, insisting on going for a modern style instead of a princess ball gown. It was a simple, off-shoulder, stark white dress that you envisioned yourself wearing while walking down the aisle to Jaehyun.

And three years ago, you cried when you donated it to a local thrift store, refusing to continue to store memories of what could’ve been in the back of your closet.

You thought you would never see it again.

“He said the theme was blue and white, right?”

Johnny brings you out of your train of thought. You cough, avoiding his questioning gaze.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

You narrow your eyes at his suggestive tone. He shrugs.

“I think you’re going to have an interesting trip.”

—

“Hi, dad!”

“Hi, little bear!”

Your heart melts at the sight of Jaehyun and your son together. Jaehyun’s all smiles while he straps your son into his carseat, dimples peeking out. Once he’s settled, he turns to you as he shuts the car door. You awkwardly step around each other as he helps you with your bags and you slip into the front seat.

The drive to the cabin you’ll be staying at for the weekend is about an hour from your place, which means you have two choices — you could pretend to sleep and avoid speaking to Jaehyun altogether, or you could bite the bullet and make as much small talk as you possibly can.

Jaehyun makes the decision for you.

“So how’s work?”

You muster a smile. “It’s alright. I think I’m going to get promoted soon.”

He laughs. “It’s about time. I’ve never seen anyone else at that company work harder than you.”

You stutter at the compliment. You always forget how charming Jaehyun is, and how easy it is for him to make you feel like a teenager all over again.

You can’t hold back your next question. “Where did you find it? The dress?”

His fingers tighten on the wheel.

“It’s just a dupe I found online.”

But the response sounds too rehearsed. Too practiced. It’s almost like he had been preparing himself for when you would inquire about it.

“Jaehyun,” you whisper, and he knows you can tell that he’s lying.

He sighs, looking through the rearview mirror to check if your son has already drifted off before proceeding. “When you donated it, Doyoung found out and I asked him to buy it back. I know it’s your dream dress, and it’s my fault you never got to wear it. I just wanted you to have a night where you could finally show it off.”

You don’t know why, but you feel tears welling up in your eyes. The idea that Jaehyun kept your dress for you all these years tugged at your heartstrings. If the dress was a reminder to you of your failed relationship, you can’t imagine what he felt when he came across it in his own home every single day.

You turn your head to look out the window so he wouldn’t see your crushed expression.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I did. You deserve at least that, and so much more. For now, unfortunately, this is all I can give you.”

The two of you remain silent for the rest of the trip and you’re relieved when he pulls into the cabin’s driveway. You both fall into a familiar pattern as you get out to grab your son and he heads to the trunk to take out your luggage. You’re careful to unbuckle your son from his carseat in fear of waking him, and you relax when he’s in your arms, still sound asleep.

Jaehyun opens the front door and you marvel at the beauty of the cabin once you’re inside. You’re not surprised in the slightest that Jaehyun’s mother hooked you up with an extremely lavish place for the weekend.

“Upstairs, first door to the right,” Jaehyun whispers, and you realize he’s telling you where your son will be sleeping.

After you’ve tucked him in and made sure he’s out for the night, you tiptoe back downstairs.

Jaehyun looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, fumbling around with the television remote, pacing in front of the entertainment dock.

“So, um, what room will I be in?”

“Oh yeah,” he says uncomfortably, quickly grabbing your luggage. “Let me show you.”

He leads you down a hallway off from the living room, opening one of the many doors and setting your stuff inside.

“Here’s your room. I, um, I’m just across the hall. There’s also another room upstairs if you want to sleep closer to the little bear but it’s a lot smaller and doesn’t have a connecting bathroom so I figured-“

“This is great, Jaehyun. Thank you.”

He clears his throat and nods, quickly shuffling out of the room. He pauses in the entryway as he’s closing the door, something clearly lingering on his mind.

“You don’t have to wear the dress tomorrow, it was inconsiderate of me to assume you would want to. I’ll have Doyoung pick up something different in the morning for you to wear.”

Before you could protest, the door shuts. You sigh and run your hands down your face.

This was going to be a long weekend.

—

You and Jaehyun barely exchange any words the next day.

As promised, a new, navy blue dress hangs outside your door when you wake up. You fail to confront Jaehyun about it since he spends most of the morning playing with your son at a nearby creek. In all honesty, you want to wear your wedding dress. On the outside, it wasn’t too flashy since you refused to add a train or any embellishments, and it was perfect for a formal event like the anniversary party. On the inside, everything Jaehyun said yesterday was correct — this was your dream dress, and you wanted to just have this one occasion to finally show it off.

You call Johnny before Jaehyun and your son return, and he happily picks up on the second ring.

“Got fucked yet?”

“You’re despicable.”

Johnny’s joyous laughter is grating to your ears.

“It’s so awkward, Johnny. We had this weird conversation about the dress so he had Doyoung get me a new one, but I actually really want to wear my wedding dress. Is that crazy?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the last syllable for emphasis. “I think you’re just afraid of what wearing the dress means for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

He clicks his tongue, and you can picture him shaking his head at your alleged stupidity. “Think about it. The last time you wore this dress, you were engaged and about to marry the love of your life. Don’t you think wearing it again is going to spark up any old feelings?”

You ponder over the idea for a moment before shaking your head. Johnny was wrong — you just wanted to wear this dress because you liked it. You convince yourself there are no lingering feelings you should be worrying about.

“You’re full of shit.”

“Uh huh. We’ll see about that.”

However, later that night when you slip into the dress, you understand exactly what Johnny was talking about. You used to have vision boards of this dress plastered on your living room walls, picking what flowers and color scheme you wanted to compliment it. You remember Johnny even photoshopping you in this dress next to Jaehyun in his suit, the both of you standing in front of what was supposed to be your dream venue.

The memories come back to you like a tidal wave. Jaehyun planning the perfect dinner for the two of you when you were six months pregnant. Jaehyun proposing to you that night, tears in his eyes as he confessed how much he loved you. Welcoming your son into the world three months later. Trying on the dress again after his birth, worrying your body would look too different. Jaehyun getting the dress re-tailored for you when your insecurities started to affect your daily life. Your son crying night after night while his father stayed late working in his office. Postponing the wedding every year because Jaehyun was too busy. Shoving the dress in the back of your closet because you couldn’t stand to see it any longer. Finally getting the courage to pack up your things and leave, taking the dress with you. Giving it away when you felt like you needed to close this chapter of your life. The chapter where Jaehyun was supposed to be your eternal love.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the door creaks open.

“Mom, why are you sad?”

You immediately straighten yourself and wipe away your tears, turning to see your son at the door with his head tilted in concern. You laugh when you see his suit is half buttoned.

“I’m not sad, little sprout,” you smile, walking over to him and scooping him in your arms. “I’m so excited for tonight! Look at my handsome boy!”

He giggles when you press kisses to his cheek.

“Mom,” he whines. “Help me!”

You keep your smile on as you help him fix his suit, and you hear the door creak open again when you’re on the last button.

If Jaehyun notices the redness in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Little bear, why don’t you finish your dinner before we head out? Don’t want you getting hungry.”

Your son obediently follows Jaehyun’s orders once you’re finished buttoning his suit, running to the kitchen to eat his meal.

You walk back to the full length mirror in the corner of the room in an attempt to make yourself look as presentable as possible. You can feel his eyes on you, burning a hole in your back.

“You look beautiful.”

You falter, fingers shakily trying to put your earring on. “Thank you.”

“I thought you wanted to wear a different dress.”

“No, I actually want to wear this one.”

“Oh, okay.” A pause. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jaehyun. Can you make sure Doyoung has coloring books and crayons in the car? In case the little sprout gets bored.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” he nods, and you lock eyes with him in the mirror.

He doesn’t say anything else but you know he’s worried about you. He purses his lips before closing the door, and you sigh in relief when you hear his footsteps fade away.

—

“Nice to see you again.”

You grin as you envelope Doyoung in a hug. The last time you saw Jaehyun’s assistant was almost three years ago at the last anniversary party you attended. Doyoung had always been a very loyal right-hand man to Jaehyun, and he used to be one of the constants in your life.

“You look gorgeous,” he compliments, his bunny teeth peeking out.

You thank him and he helps you and your son climb into the car, Jaehyun following after. Doyoung takes the driver’s seat and rolls up the partition so you can have some privacy. You wish he would do the opposite and make small talk with you, especially since you could cut the tension between you and Jaehyun with a knife.

Your son is seated between the two of you and he plays a helpful role in the awkward atmosphere. He starts asking Jaehyun questions about the party and who will be there, which Jaehyun answers patiently as your son bombards him with question after question.

You start fiddling with the fabric of your dress, the satin slipping between your fingers. When you look up, you see Jaehyun’s eyes locked on you, and it makes you wonder how differently this picture would have looked years ago.

This car would’ve been driving to your wedding venue with your son as the ring bearer. You would be leaning over to capture every moment of Jaehyun’s lips before you would have to kiss in front of hundreds of guests, a thought that always rattled you. You would have a bouquet of daisies bunched up in your hand, similar to the ones Jaehyun gave you on your first date. You would be scared of your veil tearing, trying your best to make sure your son didn’t accidentally rip it. All while Jaehyun stares at you like you hold the world in your hands, his fingers interlacing with yours to assure you everything would be okay.

You imagine he’s thinking the same as you if the longing in his eyes is anything to go by. But then the car hits a speed bump, forcing you to break eye contact. He returns to answering your son’s questions and you start playing with your dress again.

When you finally arrive at the Jeong Corporation building, you’re immediately greeted by your former mother-in-law.

She wraps you in her arms as soon as you step out of the car, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say she’s trying to strangle you by the sheer force of her strength.

“My favorite daughter!”

You flush at the greeting, remembering it was her favorite nickname for you. You catch Jaehyun carrying your son from the corner of your eye, his ears blooming red from embarrassment.

“Hi, Mrs. Jeong,” you reply, reciprocating her embrace.

She releases you to step back and take a look at your form. She looks exactly the same as she did three years ago, and you feel her manicured hand stroke your cheek.

“Look at you. Still so beautiful.”

You smile, slowly feeling your nerves dissipate. Maybe Johnny was right — maybe Jaehyun’s family didn’t actually hate you, they just missed you.

Her gaze flickers to her grandson, and she coos at him as she takes him from Jaehyun.

“And here’s my strong tiger! So handsome tonight!”

“Grandma!” Your son exclaims happily, chubby hands wrapping around her neck.

She gestures for you and Jaehyun to follow her inside the building as she begins walking. You share a glance with him before coming to a silent agreement, looping your arm through his in an attempt to show solidarity. You ignore the ache in your feet and the thumping of your heart, keeping your eyes trained on Jaehyun’s mom animatedly speaking to your son. She guides you to the conference room on the main floor, where the party is being held.

She turns to you once you’re at the entrance. “I’m going to take him to meet Yoojin, she’s been begging to meet my grandson. And don’t you two worry, I’ll take him back with us when the party’s over. He needs to spend some quality time with his grandparents! Have a fun night together!”

And before you can protest, she’s disappeared into the crowd, taking your son along for the ride.

Jaehyun curses. “I’m sorry. Let me catch her and let her know we want him to come back to the cabin with us.”

You stop him with a firm tug on his arm. He stares at you in confusion.

“It’s okay, let her take him. She’s right — he hasn’t had quality time with his grandparents for a while.”

He slowly nods and slips his arm back through yours. You both don’t know where to begin for the night now that your conversation helper is gone. The first stop you choose is the open bar while Jaehyun starts his formal thank you parade around the floor. You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You turn to see Seulgi, who is practically beaming at you.

“I was wondering if it was you!” She giggles and hugs you tightly.

Seulgi worked as head of marketing for Jeong Corporation, and you used to chat with her quite a lot whenever you visited Jaehyun in the office.

“I can’t believe you’re here, I haven’t seen you in forever,” she hums, sitting on the barstool next to you. She tells the bartender her order before focusing back on you. “How have you been?”

“I’m good,” you chuckle, a little floored by her presence. You forgot that attending this party meant you would also be running into all of Jaehyun’s colleagues that you used to be friendly with. “How have you been?”

She huffs. “Swamped with work, but this party is always a nice change of pace. Did you come with Jaehyun?”

You also remember how Seulgi doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Yes, I came with him and our son.”

“Oh, I have to see him before I leave. I bet he’s all grown up now,” she murmurs. “So you’re all back together then?”

“No, no,” you deny, thanking the bartender when your drink arrives. “Jaehyun just invited me as a plus one this year. Or plus two, I guess.”

She hums noncommittally, throwing a mischievous side eye. Actually, in this moment, you realize how much she resembles Johnny.

You feel a hand graze your back. You look up to see Jaehyun, who’s throwing a timid smile in Seulgi’s direction.

“Sorry, can I steal her for a bit?”

Seulgi smirks knowingly. “You can have her for as long as you need, Mr. Jeong.”

His eyes narrow at her before he’s leading you away from the bar, his hand still sitting firmly on your lower back.

“Sorry to interrupt your conversation,” he apologizes in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the proximity. “I need you to be my shield for these terribly boring conversations or I’ll melt into a puddle on the floor.”

You giggle. “So you’re throwing me into the dumpster fire?”

“More like I’m having you join me in the flames.”

The rest of the night eases your nerves more and more, and it gets to the point where you’re falling back into your old harmony with Jaehyun. You’re exchanging raised eyebrows when people aren’t looking, sharing your portion of small talk with the guests who approach you, and whispering in each other’s ears when a funny joke pops up. Jaehyun’s mom even swings by with your son a couple of times, giving you and Jaehyun the opportunity to spend some time with him together. You even manage to skirt around the straining questions if you two are back together, telling people you’re just here as friendly co-parents.

Despite that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like a family again.

By the end of the night, you’re climbing back into the car with Jaehyun while his parents wave you off, holding your son in their arms and assuring they’ll take good care of him.

Once they disappear out of view, you sink back and relax. Jaehyun laughs at you.

“Long night, huh?”

“My feet are killing me,” you complain, undoing the straps of your heels and tossing them aside.

His hand instantly comes to your neck, slowly massaging the tense muscles. You remember how he used to do that after every socially draining event you attended, and you lean into his touch.

“Thank you.”

The car runs into another speed bump and the movement causes you to grip onto Jaehyun’s arm, pushing your body into his. You gasp and he grabs your waist to steady you.

His hand feels like someone took a searing hot iron to your skin, and you grip his palm out of instinct. Your eyes glance over at him and you find he’s already looking at you, his other hand still resting steady against your pulse.

You don’t know who moves first.

The next sequence of events passes in a flurry, lips smashing together sloppily, hands flying around. You moan into his mouth and he unbuckles both of your seatbelts so you can climb onto his lap.

“Jae,” you groan, feeling his hands lift up your dress, sneaking up your thighs.

“I fucking missed you,” he says, sucking at your neck.

“Please, Jae,” you whimper, hands curled on the collar of his suit.

His hand firmly cups your clothed cunt and you whine loudly. You missed this — missed how rough he would get with you, how he would take you in front of anyone and everyone just to prove you were his. It’s why you got pregnant way before you planned to, and how you uncovered his desire to fill you raw.

“So fucking wet. This pussy’s all wet for me, isn’t that right?” He hisses in your ear, his deep voice causing you to soak your panties even more.

“Just for you, only for you,” you promise.

He captures your lips again as he pushes your underwear to the side, thumb circling your clit. You cry, hips starting to move on their own accord.

You admit, it’s been a long time since you were intimate with anyone, and it’s made you quite sensitive as a result.

“Want to feel it, baby,” his tongue traces your lower lip. You can start to feel drool pooling out of the corners of your mouth, but you know Jaehyun doesn’t care. If anything, he loves it when you’re sloppy like this. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

It’s almost as if his words trigger something deep inside of you, because as soon as two fingers slip in, you’re already reaching your climax. He lets you ride out your high, hips moving back and forth on his fingers as if he was just a toy for your pleasure.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. Want to breed you so badly, baby.”

You gasp at the thought, pulling him into another searing kiss.

And that’s how Doyoung finds you, straddling Jaehyun’s lap with remnants of your orgasm leaking onto his trousers, lips desperately connected for more.

“Um, we’re back.”

You almost scream and Jaehyun pulls you closer to protect you. In your lustful haze, you failed to realize the car had come to a complete stop and Doyoung had opened the door to help you get out.

You’re incredibly embarrassed but Doyoung used to catch you in way more compromising positions before — one time, he had to uncomfortably barge in on Jaehyun fucking you over his desk because one of his shareholders was about to come in for an important meeting. So the fact that you’re still clothed lessens your shame.

You and Jaehyun waste no time, scrambling out of the car and quickly thanking Doyoung before sprinting into the cabin.

As soon as the door’s closed, Jaehyun’s on his knees, pushing up your dress and dragging your hips until you’re perfectly seated on his face. You hear the rip of your underwear but you don’t even care, fingers flying to grip his hair.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbles, tongue darting out to lick at your folds. His hands grasp your thighs, hard enough to leave bruises. “Ride my face, baby. Like you used to in those stuffy restaurant bathrooms, remember?”

Of course you remember. Every time Jaehyun brought you along to a boring business dinner, you always ended up riding his face in the bathroom just to make the night more interesting.

You channel that feeling you used to get, pushing your cunt on his tongue until you start to feel your wetness dripping down your thighs. You can hear the squelch of your pussy riding Jaehyun’s tongue, and it makes your hips move even faster to chase your release.

“S-So fucking g-good, Daddy,” you whine, your climax building in your stomach. “Gonna cum for you.”

You feel him push away in favor of sucking on your clit, three fingers prodding at your entrance. You cry at the intrusion.

“Too much, Daddy!”

“Gotta get you prepped, baby. You remember how hard it is for you to take my cock?”

You couldn’t forget. Jaehyun had to have the perfect body, almost like he was sculpted by the gods. This meant that he was extremely well endowed and most nights, it usually took a lot of prep for him to even fit halfway into your pussy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss when his fingers curl. “Gonna cum, gonna cum.”

You have never felt more grateful to Jaehyun’s mom until that moment, because the sound of your loud moans would normally be leading towards a noise complaint from the neighbors, but since the cabin was the only house for miles, you could be as loud as you want.

Jaehyun coaxes you through your high, abusing your clit until you beg him to stop, pushing him away from the overstimulation.

When he rises up on his feet, it’s like you two are teenagers again. He’s scrambling to take off your dress without damaging it and you’re clumsily pulling at his belt buckle until it gives. Once your dress has fallen to the ground, he throws his suit jacket somewhere and steps out of his slacks.

“No bra?” He groans, mouth immediately latching onto your nipple.

“Doesn’t- fuck, I can’t wear it with the dress. The straps will show.”

He picks you up like a ragdoll, and you find yourself being thrown over the coffee table, breaking at least three mugs along the way.

“Jae, be careful,” you try to scold him.

He doesn’t give a single fuck, taking his cock out and giving himself a few strokes.

“Raw, baby?”

You whimper, spreading your thighs apart in anticipation. “Yes, please, Daddy!”

The stretch of taking him is not unfamiliar, but it definitely fucking hurts.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders.

“Have you fucked anyone else? Let anyone else inside what belongs to me?” He asks you, his gaze growing more intense.

There’s that possessiveness you remember. You recall every time anyone would try to flirt with you, Jaehyun would drag you home and fuck you until you cried just to show no one else could make you feel like he does. There was even one instance where he fingered you in front of some poor guy at a club, forcing him to watch as you screamed Jaehyun’s name.

“Just one guy,” you hastily confess. “Johnny set us up but he wasn’t good. He wasn’t anything like you, Daddy.”

He nearly growls at the mention of another man being intimate with you, hands pushing your thighs closer to your chest so he can sink deeper into you.

“I’ll kill him,” he whispers harshly down at you. You open your mouth and he’s fast to spit into it, watching you swallow. “I’ll fucking kill anyone who touches what’s mine.”

You groan, pulling him down so you can kiss him. He starts to thrust into you and it’s like you can feel yourself being split in half.

“Don’t act so innocent,” you breathe into his lips. “I’m sure you did the same.”

“Haven’t fucked anyone since you left,” he admits, bottoming out. You mewl and bring him closer. “I watch those movies we used to make and cum into my hand, wishing it was yours. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Early in your relationship, you and Jaehyun used to make a collection of home movies for your eyes only. It ranged from fucking in your old childhood bed to getting railed on a balcony in Paris. It used to be something for you two to look at when you missed each other, but you haven’t seen one in years. Knowing that he still gets off to them makes you even more wet.

“Fuck, you just got so tight, baby,” he groans. “You like knowing that I can only cum to the thought of you? That I picture filling you up every night, imagining you begging for my cock? Does that turn you on, baby?”

You curse loudly, body feeling like it’s on fire. His fingers trail down to pinch your clit and that sends you over the edge, crying and whimpering as you reach your third orgasm of the night.

Your limbs feel like jelly, but you know Jaehyun’s not even halfway done. He made you orgasm six times in one night before, and ever since then, he’s been trying to beat his record.

You feel him lift you up, still attached to his cock.

“I-I can’t, Jae,” you plead, but you know it’s no use anyways.

He places you down in front of the hallway mirror, where a long table stands beneath it, filled with small trinkets and ornaments. He’s quick to push them off, and you wince when you hear glass breaking.

“Jae-“

“Don’t give a fuck, baby. I’ll replace it later. Hands on the table, eyes on the mirror.”

He turns you around so your ass is facing him, and you whine when he gives it a hard slap. You obey his instructions, placing your palms on the wood and focusing on his predatory look in the mirror.

As he pushes back into you, his hand snakes around your middle, pulling you back onto his cock.

“Tell me,” he taunts in your ear. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“S-So much,” you sniffle. “I fuck myself with that toy you bought me and I pretend it’s you.”

“Yeah?” He snickers, offering another slap to your ass. “What else?”

“I miss you all the time. Miss how I could go to your office and ride you before your next meeting. Miss sucking your cock dry before you left for work. Miss you filling me up until it was dripping out of my pussy.”

He groans, pressing his face into your shoulder and biting down.

“Tell me,” you whisper, starting to feel vulnerable. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“You know how much I missed you, baby,” he replies, eyes locked on yours through the mirror. “You know and you never need to ask.”

And there’s no other words that need to be said, because you understand exactly what he means. You almost begin to cry at the thought of him coming home to an empty house, searching through every room for you and your son and finding nothing but empty drawers and naked bed sheets.

“Don’t be sad, baby,” he murmurs, gently thrusting into you. “You know I deserved it.”

“I missed you,” you choke out. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.”

He tilts the side of your face and pulls you into a kiss, railing you deeper and deeper until your toes scrape the floor.

“Please cum in me, Jae. Please, I need it,” you beg.

“Are you back on birth control, baby?”

You shake your head. “No, but it’s okay. Cum in me raw, it’s okay.”

“Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do, and I want it,” you whisper to him, interlacing your fingers. “It’s okay, Jae. Fill up my pussy, baby.”

He curses loudly before releasing inside of you, filling you until his cum starts to drip down your thighs.

He’s quick to drop back down to his knees, pulling you to his mouth again so he can send you to another orgasm. You tell him you don’t need another one but he doesn’t listen, fervently eating his cum out of your pussy like it’s his last meal.

You reach your high just like that, with his tongue deep inside you and your hands still gripping the hallway table.

When you come down, he lifts you bridal style and carries you to your bathroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

—

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and a large heater pressed against your back. Except the large heater is actually your ex-fiancé, who’s snoring loudly in your ear.

You smile fondly, thinking about the previous night. You reach to check your phone on the nightstand, and roll your eyes at your unread text messages.

[johnnyjsuh]: so what happened? did he fuck you?

[johnnyjsuh]: oh he FOR SURE fucked you, you’re not even reading my texts rn

[johnnyjsuh]: just confirmed with doyoung

[johnnyjsuh]: have fun whore

You feel Jaehyun stir behind you and you place your phone down. He kisses your temple.

“Mm, good morning, baby. Breakfast in bed?”

You smile at the thought and nod, watching him get up and pull on his boxers. However, there’s a lingering voice in the back of your head and you wish you could stop it before it grows, but it’s impossible.

“Jae?” You question before he’s out the door, and he pauses to look at you. “Why did you never get mad?”

He blinks a few times, processing your question. He walks over and sits at the edge of the bed, and you sit up to look at him properly.

“Why would I get mad? You were doing what was best for you and the little bear.”

“But I never told you. I just-“ you place your head in your hands, guilt washing over you. “I just left you.”

You feel him taking your hands away from your face and he tilts your chin up so he can look at you.

“It was a bad situation, and I caused it. You were right — I never came home, I was overworking myself to prove something to the public, and I lost everything because of it. I needed that wake-up call from you. And I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve begged you to come back, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I convinced myself that you were better off without me, and that the little bear deserved a father who was always present. It’s all my fault and I never want to see you blame yourself for my wrongs.”

You frown, taking your hands in his and staring into his eyes.

“Do you really believe that? That all of the blame should’ve fallen on you?”

He nods meekly, suddenly too embarrassed to meet your stare, looking down at the sheets.

“Jae,” you sigh. “You know our relationship held equal weight on both sides. Did I wish you were more present for us? Of course. But it’s also my fault for never communicating to you how frustrated I was. I just didn’t know how, and it resulted in me running away from the problem instead of working through it. I think about that day all the time — what would’ve happened if I just waited for you to come home? What would’ve happened if I told you how I was feeling? It was too difficult for me to process and as much as I was confident in my decision, a part of me wishes I would’ve stayed and talked through it.”

“But you should’ve never been in that position in the first place,” he replies, looking more heartbroken than you’ve ever seen him. “I knew I was working way too hard for something that might not even be achievable. I was so desperate to be accepted that I forgot about my family. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Your eyes well with tears and you wonder how long he’s carried this guilt with him. You lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, hands still desperately clutching his. “If you promise me that this time will be different, I want us to be together again. To try and be a family again.”

His eyes sparkle with hope and he kisses you again.

“I promise. I promise I’m here for our family. I’m going to be a better partner and a better father. Thank you.”

“And?” You raise an eyebrow and he laughs, nuzzling his head into your neck playfully.

“And I love you. More than anything in this world.”

His lips chase you until your head hits the pillow. You whine when his hand roughly clutches your waist.

“We-“ he starts to say, kissing down your neck. “We have to go pick up the little bear.”

“In a minute,” you respond, wanting to savor this moment with him. “Let me suck you off first.”

He groans. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that, baby. If we’re on limited time, you know I’m making sure I get you pregnant before you walk out that door.”

You moan. “I’m pretty sure you already did that last night.”

“You never know until a couple of tries later, right?”

He moves to drop his boxers but then he suddenly remembers something, looking bashful as he glances down at you.

“What? What is it?”

“I was a little too rough last night and well, I think your dress got the receiving end of most of it.”

“Jaehyun!”

“I’m sorry, I tried my best not to damage it!”

You roll your eyes and turn over, pushing yourself on your hands and knees.

“Put a baby in me and I’ll forgive you.”

“I fucking love you.”

#nct smut #jaehyun #jaehyun smut

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rafedarling · 2 months ago

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your last one shot about them being actors was so fun!! do you know how vogue or gq does those how well do you know your partner video? maybe they could do it? or the reader does a vogue beauty secrets video and rafe intervenes accidentally

oooooh that’s a great ideas anon, thank you for send in!!

𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐦

pairing: rafe cameron x actress!reader summary: vogue invites you to participate in their popular “secret beauty” series, where you’ll share your personal beauty routine on camera. filming alone in the comfort of your home, you’re deep into your routine when your husband, rafe, accidentally interrupts the shoot. what follows is a light-hearted and playful exchange between the two of you, filled with the kind of easy affection and banter that defines your relationship. rafe’s unexpected appearance adds a layer of fun and warmth to the video, showcasing not only your beauty secrets but also the loving dynamic between you and rafe. warning: english is not my native language. fluff au: like, reblog and comment are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. a sequel to “love, fame and the future” but can be read as a stand alone one-shot. taglist

Afternoon sun streamed through the windows of your living room, casting a warm glow over the sleek, modern décor that you and Rafe had carefully chosen together. The space was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional distant chirp of birds outside. You were alone-well, almost alone-getting ready to film a special “Secret Beauty” video for Vogue.

You’d been thrilled when the invitation came through. As an actor, you were used to being in front of the camera, but this was different. This was personal, an opportunity to share a side of yourself that fans rarely got to see. And doing it in the comfort of the home you shared with Rafe made it even more special.

The crew had sent over the necessary equipment the day before, but you’d opted to set everything up yourself. It felt more intimate that way, just you and the camera. You’d arranged a small vanity area in the corner of the living room, where the light was best. Your collection of beauty products, everything from skincare to makeup was neatly laid out in front of you.

You did a quick check to make sure the camera was positioned correctly, framing the scene just as you wanted. Satisfied, you hit record, flashing a bright smile at the lens.

“Hi, everyone! I’m Y/n Cameron, and welcome to my Vogue Secret Beauty video. Today, I’m going to be sharing my everyday beauty routine with you all. This is what I do to keep my skin looking fresh and my makeup natural, especially when I’m off set or just hanging out at home.”

You reached for the first product on your vanity, a gentle cleanser. “So, I always start with a good cleanse. It’s really important to make sure your skin is clean before you do anything else. I’ve been using this cleanser for a while now, it’s super gentle and doesn’t dry out my skin.”

As you explained, you began applying the cleanser, massaging it into your skin with gentle, circular motions. “I usually spend about a minute doing this, making sure I get every part of my face.”

Once you were satisfied, you reached for a soft towel, patting your face dry. “Next up is toner. This one’s great because it helps balance my skin’s pH and preps it for the rest of my routine. I just put a few drops on a cotton pad and gently sweep it across my face.”

You demonstrated, moving the cotton pad across your skin with care. “It’s really refreshing and makes my skin feel super smooth.”

You paused, letting the toner absorb, and then reached for your favorite serum. “Okay, so this is one of my must-haves. It’s a vitamin C serum that brightens my skin and helps with any dark spots. I just take a few drops and press it into my skin, focusing on areas that need a little extra love.”

As you applied the serum, you glanced at the camera, flashing a playful smile. “Rafe actually loves this stuff too, even though he won’t admit it.”

You laughed softly at the thought, your mind wandering to your husband. He was out at the moment, running some errands, but you knew he’d be back soon. Knowing Rafe, there was a good chance he’d come back while you were still filming, which could make for an interesting and probably hilarious outtake.

“Alright, now that the serum is on, I’m going to follow up with my moisturizer,” you continued, reaching for the jar. “This is super important, especially after applying a serum. It locks in all that goodness and keeps your skin hydrated.”

You scooped out a small amount of the moisturizer and began applying it in gentle upward strokes. “I like to use something lightweight during the day, so it doesn’t feel too heavy under makeup.”

You were just finishing up with the moisturizer when you heard the faint sound of the front door opening and closing. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized Rafe must be back. You kept filming, wondering if he’d notice you were in the middle of something.

Just as you were about to reach for your eye cream, you heard his voice from the hallway. “Babe? I’m back! You won’t believe the traffic out there—”

He appeared in the doorway, stopping short when he saw the camera. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then a slow grin spread across his face.

“Am I interrupting something?” Rafe asked, clearly amused.

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning to face him. “Just a little. I’m filming my Vogue beauty routine.”

Rafe’s grin widened as he walked over, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh, so this is the famous ‘Secret Beauty’ routine? I’ve been dying to know what goes into it.”

“Really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “You already know most of it. You’ve borrowed half these products at some point.”

He chuckled, moving closer to inspect the array of products on the vanity. “I might have. You’ve got good taste, what can I say?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Well, since you’re here, do you want to help me with the rest of it? The viewers might enjoy a little guest appearance.”

Rafe looked at the camera, then back at you, feigning a thoughtful expression. “Hmm, I don’t know. Do I have to do anything?”

“Not really,” you said, reaching for your eye cream. “Just look pretty and maybe pass me a couple of things.”

He laughed at that, pulling up a chair next to you. “Alright, I think I can manage that.”

You grinned at the camera, happy to have Rafe by your side. “So, where were we? Oh, right-eye cream. This is essential, especially on days when I haven’t had enough sleep. Just a tiny bit under each eye to help with puffiness and dark circles.”

You dabbed the cream under your eyes as you explained. Rafe watched with interest, occasionally glancing at the camera as if to check if he was doing it right.

“And now,” you said, setting the eye cream down, “we’re moving on to the makeup. I like to keep it light and natural, especially when I’m just hanging out at home.”

Rafe reached for the foundation, holding it up like a game show host presenting a prize. “This is the one, right?”

You laughed, taking it from him. “Yep, that’s the one. It’s really lightweight and gives just enough coverage without feeling heavy.”

As you applied the foundation, Rafe watched, leaning in occasionally to make funny faces at the camera behind your back, which you noticed only through the camera’s reflection. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help laughing.

“Okay, now for some concealer,” you said, reaching for the small tube. “This just goes on any spots that need a little extra coverage.”

Rafe nodded sagely, as if he were learning some deep, important secret. “You know, I’ve got a spot right here,” he said, pointing to a non-existent blemish on his cheek.

You playfully pushed him away. “Very funny.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to learn,” he protested with a grin.

“Sure you are,” you said, blending in the concealer. “Alright, now for a bit of bronzer to warm up the face.”

Rafe picked up the bronzer and handed it to you with a flourish. “Your bronzer, madam.”

You accepted it with a mock curtsey. “Thank you, kind sir.”

As you dusted the bronzer along your cheekbones and forehead, Rafe looked on, clearly entertained. You could tell he was enjoying himself, which made you even more relaxed and playful.

“Next, some blush for a bit of color,” you said, swirling the brush in the blush compact. “Just a little on the apples of the cheeks.”

Rafe tilted his head, studying your technique. “Looks good. You missed a spot, though.”

You paused, mid-swipe, giving him a look. “Really?”

He leaned in, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek. “Right… here.”

His touch was soft, and you felt your breath hitch slightly, caught off guard by the sudden tenderness. He pulled back with a satisfied smile, leaving you a little flustered, but in a good way.

“Thanks,” you managed, giving him a playful shove. “Now, let’s finish up with some mascara and a bit of lip balm.”

Rafe picked up the mascara, twirling it between his fingers before handing it to you. “Be careful with this one. It’s dangerous.”

You laughed, carefully applying the mascara to your lashes. “I’ll try not to poke my eye out.”

Once your makeup was finished, you reached for your lip balm, applying a quick swipe across your lips. “And that’s it! My secret beauty routine are simple, natural, and easy enough that even Rafe could do it.”

Rafe, who had been leaning back in his chair with a smug grin, feigned mock offense. “Hey, I might just take that as a challenge. Next time, I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, really? I’d love to see that.”

He smirked, leaning closer to the camera as if sharing a secret. “Maybe we should film a ‘Rafe Cameron Beauty Routine’ next. Show everyone how I maintain this rugged charm.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea, shaking your head. “I’m sure your fans would love that. You know, maybe we should actually do it. Could be fun.”

Rafe’s eyes lit up at the thought, clearly entertained by the idea. “You’re on. But you have to be my assistant. I can’t possibly do it alone.”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Deal. But only if you promise not to turn it into a comedy routine.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. “No promises, but I’ll try to keep it professional.”

The two of you shared a quiet moment, your laughter fading into comfortable silence as you sat together, Rafe’s arm warm around you. The camera was still recording, capturing the easy affection between you, something that came naturally, whether the cameras were on or not.

Finally, you turned back to the camera, giving the viewers a warm smile. “Well, I think that’s a wrap for today. Thanks so much for joining me on this little behind-the-scenes look at my beauty routine. I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.”

Rafe chimed in, his tone playful. “And remember, if you want a real beauty routine, stay tuned for the Rafe Cameron edition.”

You laughed, playfully shoving him again before waving at the camera. “Thanks for watching, everyone! See you next time!”

With that, you reached over and hit the stop button, ending the recording. The red light on the camera blinked off, signaling the end of the shoot. You leaned back in your chair, feeling a sense of accomplishment and a bit of relief that it had all gone smoothly, well, almost.

Rafe stood up, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied grin. “Not bad, Mrs. Cameron. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a warm flush at the way he called you by your married name. “Well, I’ve had a bit of practice. But I think you might have stolen the show.”

He chuckled, reaching down to pull you up from your chair. “Hey, I’m just here to support my wife. And maybe sneak in a little screen time.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, letting him pull you into a hug. “You know, you actually made it a lot more fun. I’m glad you interrupted.”

Rafe’s smile softened as he looked down at you, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. “Yeah? I’m glad too. It’s nice to be part of these little moments with you.”

You rested your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear. “Me too. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

For a few moments, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside your home feeling miles away. It was in these quiet moments that you were reminded of just how lucky you were to have found someone who understood you so completely, who made every moment, whether big or small does feel special.

Rafe finally broke the silence, his voice soft and teasing. “So, how about we celebrate our first Vogue feature with some takeout and a movie? Maybe we can critique my on-camera skills.”

You laughed, pulling back to look up at him. “That sounds perfect. But I think you might just be a natural.”

He grinned, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Only because I have the best partner.”

With that, the two of you started to clean up the vanity, chatting and joking as you put away the beauty products. The light in the room was starting to fade as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything.

As you worked together, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. This was your life now, a life full of love, laughter, and the kind of everyday moments that made everything else worthwhile. And as long as you had Rafe by your side, you knew that every day would be an adventure, filled with more joy than you ever thought possible.

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writersblockedx · 5 months ago

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Hi there!

I really love your fanfics!

I couldn’t use the link to submit a request so I’m sending it here !

What about a fanfic where Ried has a family but he’s kept it secret for so many years so they wouldn’t get hurt. He has a small daughter and a young son. One day at the office, he gets pictures of someone taking pictures of them with a threat so he has to come clean to the team and bring his family to the office to keep them safe and they are all shocked

Please no pressure for this fic! Love your work!!!

Securing Secrets / S.R.

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - Spencer has always attempted to keep his family safe. So much so, they had become a secret. But when their lives are threatened, he has no choice but to come clean and ask for the help of his team. Warnings - Stalking, mentions of violence and death Words - 3.8K

A/n - I hope this is okay for you - I wrote a little more than I intended to but I still hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

It was no wonder why Spencer had kept his family to himself. When he had faced killers like Cat Adams and Tobias Hankle, he knew what humans were capable of - if he dared to even compare them to anything humane. So, he made the decision when he met Y/n to forever keep her a secret from his work. And when they started growing a little family with two children, he kept them a secret too.

Sometimes it killed him inside. As much as he loved his team, risking the lives of his family just wasn't enough for him. He had lost his first love, had his mother held captive, he wasn't about to risk his family too. He had learnt from his past - at least he thought he had done.

"Morgan, hey, no, you can't-" Y/n called towards their seven year old daughter whose sticky fingers had grasped a hold of a copy of fifty shades of grade. When she thought taking the kids on a day trip out to the book store would be easy, she hadn't imagined her seven year old reading smut. "You can't read that." She scolded before placing the book back on its shelf.

The bushy-haired girl gazed up at her mother, "Why not?" She huffed.

Her arm wrapped around Jay, their more reserved, four (and a half) year old. "Because it's an adult book. When you're old enough, you can read it."

"I am old enough, Daddy said I've got an advanced reading age!" Of course, she did - she was the daughter of the guy who could read 20,000 words a minute. Not to mention, she was going through the 'I'm old enough to do what I want' phase.

"Ask me again when you're 18, how about that?" She suggested before the child wrapped at her torso and stared up at her.

"Will Dada be home?" He asked.

Jay always liked coming home from their day trips to find Spencer already there, his head deep in another book or a case file. But days like that were rare - as much as both the parents hated such. "Erm-" Before she could give her son an answer, her phone started to ring. "That should be him." She gave the boy a smile before pulling out her mobile and seeing Spencer's contact staring back at her.

The man, from the moment they made it official, had always made sure to call her at the end of his working day. Whether he was in a hotel somewhere in the country, on the jet or if he was simply in his car, travelling home. "Hey, Spence, you should hear what Morgan wants to read-"

She could barely finish her breath, "Where are you?" He asked, his tone ever so stern that it was already making her nervous.

"The bookstore down town." She answered, already glancing around like she suddenly felt as if she was being watched. "Why?"

The girl could hear his uneven breaths on the other side of the phone, "I- Shit-" That's when Y/n knew something was wrong - her husband never swore...ever. "Can you come to the office? With the kids, we need you here."

"The office? Spencer, what are you talking about? I thought they didn't know."

"Yeah, well something's changed." Her heart started beating so fast that she wondered if Jay would be able to feel it. "Please, I need to know you're all safe."

She nodded and gazed over at her two children whom were waiting to hear about what Daddy had told her. "We'll be right over," She assured.

"And Y/n," He spoke, "In your car, in the glove compartment, there's a pistol, please, take it." What the hell had happened? Spencer could barely use a gun himself, never mind her. "I put it in there just in case and, just keep it on you until you get here."

"Okay, yeah." She didn't like the idea but, if someone was threatening them, if someone was putting her and her children at risk, she would do whatever was needed.

"I'll see you soon." Spencer huffed, "I love you."

"I love you too."

And with that, she ended the call. Only a single exhale dared to leave her lips before she stood. "Is Dada home?" Jay nagged.

She scooped the boy up into her arms, "No, but we're gonna visit him at work, okay?" Jay didn't seem happy about the idea but she'd rather the boy be safe than happy. "Come on," With her free hand, she grasped Morgan's finger tips tightly. "We need to go."

She rushed her and the kids into her parked car outside, making sure to look over her shoulder. Once she was seated in the driver's seat with the engine running, her gaze glanced to the glove compartment. Y/n needed to. Her hand leaned over, pushing it open and finding the gun stuffed behind a thick car manual. She grasped it for a moment before placing it on the passangers seat for easy access.

From there, she didn't take her foot off the gas. She was usually an ulta-safe driver. But, tonight, everything was different.

When they arrived to the BAU, Y/n pressed the button for the sixth floor and waited for the doors to glide open. With two children at either side of her, she wandered into the office. Her eyes instantly searched for Spencer. Instead, a blonde, colourful girl came running over to them. Well, walking as fast as she could in her thick heels. Garcia, Y/n assumed.

"Oh, you must be the lovely Mrs Reid," She sighed in relief when she came face to face with Y/n.

She glanced her up and down; there was no way this was JJ or Emily. "Penelope, right?"

The girl almost seemed surprised, "You- you know me?"

Y/n's face softened ever so slightly, "Of course."

"Y/n!" Her head turned from Garcia to see Spencer jogging over to her. Once he was close enough, he instantly engulfed the girl into a tight hug. "You okay?" He asked before pulling away and hugging his two children.

She nodded, "Yeah, we're okay, don't worry." When Spencer stood from hugging his kids, he gazed back over at his wife. She had grasped her hand from the back hem of her jeans, pulling out the pistol he had made sure she take. "Here, I've no idea what I'm doing with it anyway." Spencer took the weapon from her before her expression turned stern, "Now, what the hell is going on?"

Spencer's eyes instantly glanced down at their children; they didn't need to hear this. "Morgan, Jay," He spoke ever so softly to them as he leaned down, "Why don't you go with Garcia, she'll show you all her funky toys?" He glanced back at Penelope who was gleaming with a smile as she offer a hand for each child.

"Oh, yeah! I've got unicorns, fairies, fluffy pens, everything." She gleamed, trying to hide her fear for the true reason Spencer's family had been bought into the BAU. Once the kids took the woman's hand she gave one last look at the couple, "Let me know if you need anything."

The boy nodded before Garcia began leading the children towards her cave, "Someone- someone found you." He started to explain as he interlocked his hand with her, guiding the two over towards the conference room where the rest of the team were waiting. "I don't know how and I don't know who but- but around 30 minutes ago I had email to my work address. There's photos, almost a months worth."

Her brows narrowed at him, "Of what?"

"Of you."

Oh god. Despite all the effort the two had put in to keep their family personal, someone had still connected her and the kids to Spencer. And for whatever reason, they had become a target.

Spencer opened the door to the conference room, where the team were waiting. Most of them sat at the round table where they had several files and papers scattered in front of them. But at the entrance of Reid and his secret wife, they each turned. She offered them a weak smile before the man, whom she assumed was Hotch, spoke up, "Sadly we don't have much time for small talk, but we all want to help." He stood over towards Y/n and offered her his hand, "Aaron Hotchner."

She shook his hand, "Hotch, I should have known." And then she glanced around the table at the rest of the agents. Without hesitation, she named them all, "JJ, Emily, Rossi and Morgan." She smiled at each of them. "Spencer talks about you all a lot."

The boy next to her grinned every so slightly. "I wish we could have met differently." Morgan offered as he stood up, "Take a seat, we'll run you through what we know."

Y/n followed Spencer as the two sat at the round table and the tv screen in front of them started filling with papazzi-style photographs of the woman. Her grocery shopping, her at a bar with some friends, and even one from this morning: hand in hand with Jay as she led the two children into the bookstore they adored.

"You said this has been going on for a month?" How could that have been the case and she had no idea?

Hotch nodded, "We believe so yes."

"Who would want to do this?" She questioned; she wasn't exactly an interesting person. She had a normal life - as the pictures had proven.

Spencer took her hand, "We erm, we're not sure yet. We have one theory."

The tv screen clicked onto another slide. A woman's face filled the screen. A woman whom Y/n had heard far too much about: Cat Adams. "We know Adams has an obsession with Reid, and well, we know she likes to target his personal life," JJ informed as Y/n recalled the days in which Diana had been held captive. "If she somehow found out about you, it would have set her off."

"But she's in prison." Y/n pointed out.

Emily shrugged, "She was in prison when she found Reid's mother. She's- She's a master manipulator and ever since Reid first encountered her, he was the first man to challenge her." All of which Y/n already knew.

"If you really think it's her then-" Her eyes gazed over at Spencer, filled with worry, "You're going to have to talk to her aren't you?" It wasn't a question; she knew it.

Spencer sucked in a breath before he dared to nod.

It didn't take them long. Before Y/n realised it, she was watching out the window of the conference room as two prison guards held Cat by either one of her arms. She was smiling- no, she was smirking. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes gazed around the office until she was forced into an interrogation room.

All they needed to know was who her contact was. Once they had a name, they could find them and put whoever that was in prison too.

Y/n stood next to Spencer as they stared at the woman through the double-sided mirror. "If she's done all this to get to you, why are we letting her talk to you?" The girl questioned.

"She always slips up in front of Reid." Emily answered - despite how much they all hated the idea.

Rossi was the first to pose another opinion, "What if we give her something she isn't expecting?" He suggested, "What if we don't give her Reid?" Surely, if the team sent in someone Cat Adams didn't expect, then maybe she would slip up just as easily - if not more so.

The older man shared a glance with Emily. A glance of which allowed them to silently suggest something; the two had an idea that wasn't yet shared with the rest of the group. It wasn't until Emily's eyes landed on Y/n that they started to understand what the two were thinking, "What if- What if we sent Y/n in?"

The girl scoffed; that must have been a joke. "You're kidding, right?" She laughed. "I mean, I'm not- I'm an agent. I'm a normal person. I can't talk to a criminal!"

"That's exactly what we need," Spencer spoke aloud without even realising, "She's expecting me, she's expecting FBI, send in someone different and it might just make her slip." Spencer turned to face Y/n, one hand gently cupping her cheek as he spoke, "Especially if we send in the very girl she's jealous of."

Y/n's head shook; she couldn't. She was with Spencer, but she wasn't a part of his world, "I can't."

"You can," His voice soothed, "You can do anything."

"We'll be right here," Emily assured.

Y/n glanced back at the window, at the criminal who had targetted her. If this was their best shot, then she might have to take it. Her family was at risk for goodness sake. Once they figured out who her partner on the otherside, all this would be over. The girl sighed, "Fine," She finally agreed. "But if anything happens, if she does anything, please-"

Spencer was already nodding, "We'll get you out of there, don't worry." He promised.

His hands fell from her skin before she glanced between the other two agents, "How do I do this then?" She asked.

"Go in there, vague questions, act better than she is, because you are," Emily mentored, "We need to figure out how she's orchestrated this."

With those instructions, the girl nodded and Rossi handed her the file. The one of which was filled with the stalker photos of herself and the kids, "See what happens if you show her these too, it might tell us a lot." He explained.

And with that, with that grace of a nod, a peck to Spencer's lips, the girl headed into the interrogation room.

Cat Adams was nonchalant. She had learnt a lot. She had learnt the best way to not let BAU agents know what she was thinking. But sending Y/n in certainly hadn't been what she expected.

The girl swallowed as she took the seat across from Cat with a very weak smile. She gazed up at the woman who had suddenly grown a sickly smile which made Y/n become nervous. She wanted to leave already, "Hi," Cat shrugged her shoulders and gazed softly at Y/n.

But the other girl was staring back with narrowed eyes, "Do you know who I am?" She questioned.

Cat leaned back and shrugged, letting out nothing but a hum. So Y/n leaned forward and placed one of the photos in front of the girl. It was just of her - no Jay or Morgan present. Just her, exiting her car as she headed to the store, "So you don't recognise this?".

She barely glanced at it, "Should I?"

"You know Doctor Reid though, don't you?"

Instantly, her demeanour shifted. But she desperately tried to hide it, "Bumped into him...sure." She shrugged it off.

Y/n thought for a moment before raising her left hand, wiggling her ring finger to show off her wedding ring to the girl, "Yeah well, I know him quite well." She said, watching as Cat's smile completely dissipated, "And he, well, he sort of mentioned you. I mean I sort of remember your name...remind me again? Carol? Cath-?"

"Cat." She cut in.

The girl faked a shock of realisation; this was exactly what Emily had asked: make herself look better than Cat. "And you don't know me?" She glanced back to her wedding ring, "Wife." She spoke.

The girl huffed and smiled to herself like something was funny, "Yeah, good luck with that."

Y/n glared back at her, tilting her head. The words from Emily echoed through her mind. "And what do you mean by that?"

Cat doesn't want to answer that. More specifically, she doesn't want to answer Y/n. "He- he's complicated, I'm sure you're aware right? Girlfriend died, no dad around, mum got kidnapped, and well, god knows everything that's happened to his team." She almost finds it funny.

Y/n leaned her elbows against the metal table, "And you were the very person who took his mother. I know you, Cat. I know all you want is to win against my husband but tough luck, it's not going to happen." The girl tried to keep up her straight face but when facing Cat Adams, it seemed to be proving difficult.

She shrugged, "Maybe not before, but now I have you." Her eyes narrowed and suddenly Y/n grew nervous; she was behind this. All of it. "And of course, you two little munchkins." Her shoulders squeezed and she smiled sickly.

"So you do know them."

"I know everything."

A shiver flew down her spine. She was behind all of this. And Y/n couldn't help but ask: "And what do you want?" Y/n had some idea. This had nothing to do with her or the kids; it was all about getting back at Spencer.

She giggled, "Well there would be no fun in telling you, would there?"

"You can't do this myself yourself," Y/n stated. Once they had the name of whoever it was on the outside, they could get over this: they could move on.

The girl on the other side of the metal table simply shrugged, "Who says I am?" And like that, it was confirmed. Not only the fact that she was behind this, but that she had partner and the outsider. And that was all they needed - for now, anyway.

With narrowed eyes, Y/n glared at the girl and started to stand from the chair. She didn't need anything else. She took a breath before turning her back, "You might want to look over your shoulder." Cat taunted.

Something of which, the girl had ignored as she continued out of the interrogation room. An exhale fell from her lips as she found herself back in the company of people she trusted. Of people she knew...with Spencer.

His hand instantly reached at her waist, pulling her close. The feeling of her skin at his releasing a relief she couldn't stop. He was safe. He was loving. He was her husband, "Are you okay?" He questioned before anyone else had the chance to speak.

The girl nodded but gave no words. What was she meant to say after a face to face with Cat Adams? "She's definitely behind this," Emily confirmed.

"She's working with someone too," Y/n added as she eased into the familiar feeling of Spencer.

"So now we know that," Y/n started as she gazed between the three agents, "What do we do now?"

"Now," Answered Rossi, "We get Garcia."

And so the group of them wandered over from the interrogation room and headed to what they called Garcia's 'cave'. And safe tp say was. No windows, just a lot of screens and several different sparkly things. Plush teddies, framed stock photos of puppies and a slingy which Jay was playing with.

"Hi," Y/n gleamed as she greeted her kids once more, "You two been good for Garcia?"

The woman stood from her chair, "They're angels," She smiled.

"We need your help now," Spencer said as they quickly entered back into the situation at hand. They didn't have time for small talk.

"Of course, anything."

And so she sat back at her chair as Spencer came to her side, beginning to list the profile they had started, "Look for names that pop up in the guest book of the hotel Montana, it's the building next to our house." Spencer informed and Garcia became manically typing. "They'll have been a guest for at least a month, cross check that with anyone from Cat's old life, work, college, high school, anything-"

"Nothing."

"What if- I mean surely whoever this person is would be using an alias," Y/n suggested.

A theory of which Spencer agreed with, "Bring up a photo of the guests who have stayed for a month."

Garcia followed: there were three. As they scrolled through high school pictures and then college- "There!"

A photo matched. A woman, same age as Cat, sickly sweet smile, fire red hair and geeky glasses. And then the name: Amy Duke. They had a name. They had everything Garcia could find. "That's got to be her," Emily confirmed.

"Garcia, send us everything." And like that, everything was go-go-go.

Y/n barely had a chance to speak before her hand was reaching out to stop Spencer from running off, "Hey," She called.

His hands cupped at her cheeks, "It'll be alright, I promise." He gave a smile which could ease her nervous a million times over. "Go home, I'll be there soon."

And like that, he was gone.

Y/n said her goodbyes to Garcia before taking her kids hand in hand and heading for the exit. She tried to not think about what Spencer was doing, about the woman he was facing. It was all too overwhelming. Instead, she focused on feeding her kids and getting them dressed for bed. It was horrible when they asked about where Daddy was - if he was coming home. All she could tell them was that it was going to be fine...even if she wasn't so sure of such herself.

She perched at the end of Morgan's bed, her door open, giving the woman a view of a sleeping Jay in the room across the hall. She didn't dare to leave her children when there was danger still looming over them. The girl watched as her daughter's chest rose and fell with her breaths. And after what felt like hours, the front door rustled open.

Y/n became alert, she flew up to her feet and wandered carefully out of Morgan's room. She lingered at the top of the stairs; what if it wasn't her husband? "Spence?" She called, worrisome.

He was already rushing up the stairs at the sound of her voice, "Hey, it's me don't worry." He met her at the top of the landing, engulfing his body around her. "It's over, I swear, she's been arrested, Cat is back in prison." Relief flooded her. "It's all over."

Her head gazed up at him, a slight grin brushing over her lips, "What a way to meet your second family, hey?" She giggled. And while the day had been horrid, there was some good out of it - she wasn't a secret anymore.

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moonlit-stay · 20 days ago

Text

Kinktober 2024 ▪ Day 19

▪ Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

▪ Kink: Bulge Kink

▪ Genre: Smut

▪ Word Count: 2.1k

▪ Warnings: Soft!Dom Chan, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, big dick Chan, unprotected sex, bulge kink, creampie

▪ Other Warnings: brief mentions of fire, mentions of food and consumption of food, reader both mentions, and interacts with both of her parents

▪ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Black, Ash Grey, Burnt Orange, and White Oak <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

The cold night air sends chills up your spine as you pull the blanket that's draped over your shoulders tighter around you. You sit in silence, admiring the comforting sound of the crackling logs that burn slowly in the fire pit in front of you.

You take a second to peer across from you at your parents, your mom tucked securely into your dad's side as they too gaze into the fire. A bag of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate squares sit in a neat pile in one of the vacant chairs, patiently waiting to be savored amongst the three of you.

The way this scene is playing out reminds you of your childhood. The comforting warmth of the fire, the soft glow of the moon, the gentle twinkle of the stars, it brought you peace, and to some extent, made you feel like a little kid again.

You love visiting your parents, enjoying the break from all your responsibilities and otherwise hectic life, but you can't say you don't really miss Chan. It's rare for you and Chan to be separated for any reason other than work, and you two have grown used to the schedule, handling it with ease, but a weeklong trip to visit your parents is not work, and it's not part of the schedule you both have grown familiar with, either.

To say you're both feeling each other's absence is an understatement. As dramatic as it may sound, you feel incomplete and out of place, like a compass that endlessly spins, never quite gaining a sense of direction.

Chan isn't much better off. Tossing and turning in your shared bed that he normally sleeps soundly in, hugging your pillow close in hopes of easing his restless mind. Instinctively making enough food for two, only to realize after the fact that you're not there to enjoy it with him.

As much as you're enjoying spending time with your parents, the days feel like they're dragging on, and you would be lying if you said you weren't counting down the days until you finally go home.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" You hear your mom gently call out, bringing you out of your thoughts as you blink at her a few times.

"Oh, uh...I'm okay." You answer, giving her a nod of reassurance.

"You miss Chan, don't you?" She asks you knowingly, watching you nod in response as you sink further into the chair.

"This is the first time we've been separated in over a year, and...neither of us are taking the distance too well." You explain, feeling yourself choke up a little bit at the simple mention of being away from your boyfriend.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." She hums apologetically, gently squeezing at your dad's arm as she sits up, leaning forward before she speaks. "Next time you come around, bring him with you! He's always welcome, you know."

You smile at her words, nodding in response.

"I think he'd like that."

"I think he'd like anywhere as long as he's with you." She replies, winking at you as she reaches for the smore makings. "Now, who wants smores?"

You spent the next couple of hours sharing stories with your parent's, telling them about some of your favorite memories with Chan, as well as listening to each of your parents favorite memories of their time spent together as a couple. It made you cherish your relationship with Chan even more, hoping to one day have the opportunity to tell stories of your relationship with Chan to kids of your own.

It wasn't long before you all decided to turn in for the night, exhaustion setting in as you go your separate ways. You make your way to your childhood room, quickly showering before you crawl into bed.

You see a text from Chan, asking you to call him when you're free, and you smile at the notification before you call him.

"Hi, gorgeous." The sound of his voice makes your heart drum in your chest, and you beam at him as his face comes into frame.

"Hi, Channie, how was your day?"

He lets out a long sigh, falling back against his pillow before he speaks.

"It was alright, I just wish you were here." He tells you honestly.

"I know, baby," you sigh back, melting into your bed as sleep slowly takes over your form. "Tomorrow, Channie, and I'm all yours."

"You mean that?" He asks you with a smirk, watching a smile pull at your lips before you hum in response.

"Always."

He stays on the line with you until you fall asleep, reluctantly hanging up before he lets sleep embrace him as well.

The next morning you all but leap out of bed, getting ready for the day and hurriedly packing all your things before you part ways with your parents, assuring your mom you'll let her know when you're home safe.

The three-hour drive back to you and Chan's shared home feels like eternity. The remaining time on your GPS seemingly unmoving as your eyes continuously dart back to the estimated arrival time. You feel your heart rate quicken in pure anticipation when the arrival time finally reads five minutes.

You pull into your driveway, almost jumping out of your car as you make a beeline for your front door, letting it swing open to reveal Chan already standing there waiting for you with open arms. You fall into his embrace at record speed, tightly wrapping your arms around him as he carefully walks you backwards towards the front door, kicking it shut as he holds you close.

"God, I missed you so much." He breathes into your neck, pressing a kiss to the soft skin right after.

"I missed you, too." You respond, your breathing slowly becoming ragged as Chan trails open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

"Channie-" you breathe out, melting into his touch as his hands sneak under your shirt to feel your bare skin. "I still have to get my stuff out of the car."

"That can wait, baby." He softly explains, walking you towards your kitchen table. "I'll even bring it all in for you, but only after we make up for lost time."

You almost chuckle at his words, but the sound dies in your throat when he hoists you up onto the kitchen table. He takes a step away from you to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it out of his way before he does the same with your own. Your hands are quick to lay flat against his chest, letting your fingertips trace along the muscles in his chest and torso as his hands find purchase on your waist.

He tugs you closer until you're sitting at the very edge of the table before he helps you lay flat against the surface. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and panties, tugging them down your legs in one swift motion before they join your previously discarded clothes. He lets out a moan at the sight of your bare core on full display in front him, his knees feeling weak at the thought of finally pushing inside you.

His shorts and briefs are the last articles of clothing to join the discard pile, carelessly kicking them to the side as he parts your thighs to stand between them. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his shaft presses between your folds.

He hurriedly slides his tip through your slit, gathering as much of your arousal as he can before he presses his tip to your hole.

"Missed you so much." He mumbles out, slowly pushing past your entrance as he speaks.

"Missed you, too." You answer, the sound of your voice already coming out broken and desperate as your back arches off the table.

Chan holds your waist securely in his hands, keeping you in place as he buries himself inside you to the hilt.

"Fuck, you're so big-" you mewl out, your hands gripping at his forearms.

"Did you forget that during the week you were away, baby?" He asks you breathlessly, still smirking down at you, nonetheless.

"M'not sure, jus' feels so good." You whine out, squirming in place as he slowly pulls out until just his tip is inside you.

"Let me remind you how much you love how big I am, hm?" His hips slam into yours right after the words leave his mouth, making your body jolt against the table as a choked scream tears from your throat.

He sets his pace, slow and rough as he watches your mouth fall open at the pleasure. Your grip on his forearms tightens with every thrust of his hips, your nails leaving crescents in his warm skin. Each of your pretty noises leaves your mouth in syllables, broken somewhere in the middle by the sheer force of Chan's thrusts.

You involuntarily clench around Chan's length when he lets out a low moan of your name, causing his pace to pick up in speed only slightly as he gets closer to his high. He rests one of his palms flat against your clit, watching you immediately grind against his palm as the need to cum clouds your brain and guides your movements.

You let out a choked sob when he brings his hips to a complete stop, his length still buried inside you as he pulls his hand away from your clit right after.

"Channie, no, please-" you whimper, bucking your hips for some sort of friction.

"Fuck, hold on, baby." You feel his hand press against your tummy, lightly at first before he increases the pressure. A loud, involuntary moan tears past your lips as your body trembles at the feeling. "You feel me here, baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?"

You can only nod as moans and whines spill past your lips, your thighs shaking against Chan's hips. You feel Chan gently grab your hand, placing it on your tummy before he presses down again, another loud moan slips past your lips and Chan bucks his hips involuntarily at the way your body reacts to his actions.

"Look, baby." He gently calls out, directing your attention to where both you and Chan's palms are pressed against your tummy. "Taking me so well, aren't you, pretty girl?"

You glance down, seeing the way your tummy bulges where Chan's length is buried inside you, and you let out another moan at the sight.

"Watch me fill you up, pretty." He breathes out, each of his breaths short and labored as he fights to restrain himself.

He draws his hips back, both of you watching the bulge disappear before he thrusts back into you, the bulge in your tummy reappearing when he bottoms out again. Your head falls back against the table with a thud, your eyes screw shut as your mouth falls agape, the knot in your stomach tightening again with every desperate thrust of Chan's hips.

Chan can't take his eyes off the bulge in your tummy, his head cloudy as he drowns in the pleasure, chasing his high as his hips speed up. Both of you are so close, desperate to reach your highs after a week of not seeing each other, and not having any kind of release. The table creaks with every thrust of Chan's hips, the noise falling on two pairs of deaf ears as you both come dangerously close to reaching your orgasms.

Chan presses his hand between your thighs again, rubbing the heel of his palm against your bundle of nerves as you jolt in his hold.

"Cum with me, baby, please." He moans out, feeling your walls throb around his cock.

His hips connect with yours a few more times before he stills inside you, his mouth falling open and his moans mixing with the sound of yours as he cums deep inside your cunt. Your entire body tenses before you tremble in his hold, your vision going white as you desperately cling to whatever part of him you can reach. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer as you cream around his cock, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks as you moan out his name like a mantra.

The sound of moans and skin connecting repeatedly dies down, sounds of heavy panting and gasps filling the space instead. Eventually, your breathing evens out and you look up at Chan like he just gave you the world. He returns your gaze, looking at you like you just hung every star in the sky for him before he helps you sit up, pulling you into his chest a moment later. You hear his heartbeat, now calm and stable beneath your ear, smiling to yourself as you wrap your arms around his torso.

Maybe you'll get around to letting your mom know you made it home safe.

Maybe your stuff will eventually make it inside, too.

Right now, those are the least of your worries as your heartbeat settles, softly drumming in sync with Chan's as the comforting smell of his cologne invades your senses.

There's truly no place like home.

Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

▪ Author's Note

I am very fond of this day, it feels very comforting to me for some reason.

Might be because it's about Chan and that man is quite literally comfort personified, dunno

▪ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll @ka0ila

Send me a DM or ask to be added to the taglist

▪ Extras

©All rights are reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Stealing, reposting, copying, translating, plagiarizing, and modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: October 19th, 2024

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !

#stray kids smut #stray kids smut imagines #stray kids bang chan smut #stray kids chan smut #bang chan smut #kinktober

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

Winter's King 21

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I am very tired.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As promised, the king acquires you a full outfit to face the cold. A fur trimmed hat to replace your standard linen cap, a pair of lined hide gloves, and thick boots that go to your knees. He has bolstered you to face the elements but you are wholly unprepared to face the corridors as the glances of soldiers and servants meet you with a new glint of judgement.

You wear the king’s cloak as before. You keep your head low under the hood as he walks ahead of you. It is a farce. A poorly acted charade. How naive you’d been for so long not see through it all. You were the perfect fool for an intent audience.

You descend and come out to the west of the castle, through a door beneath a sharply peaked arch. The snow continues to heap over the land though the winds have relented. The king pauses as you emerge and reaches to take you by the wrist, as if he fears you might be lost in the powder.

He walks you across the yard towards the stables built across a flat of land nestled along a curved rock wall. The doors creaks as he pushes through and the heat of braziers and horses’ bodies greets you within. Sniffs, snorts, and knickers rise in the air as you walk between the stalls. There is one in which a single horse resides, the rest crowded in pairs and trios.

You look up at the steed’s dark snout, it’s eyes even bleaker as it snuffs out harshly. It’s nostrils flair at your approach and the king clicks his tongue at the beast. It raises its nose then shakes its head. It’s ebony iris fixates on you as its master touches its braided mane.

“Roach,” you murmur into the dry air.

“You remember,” he comments gently.

“Yes,” you watch the horse as it watches you. It bows its head, nose coming close to yours, fuming hot breath around you. It sniffs the trim of your hood.

“Let the animal see you,” the king advises.

You bring your hands up and push back the hood, letting it hang over your shoulders. You stare at the dark eyes. Roach continues to twitch his nose in your direction then further dips his head, pressing against your chest. Uncertain, you bring your hands to touch his soft ears.

“Ah,” the king sighs, “Roach is rarely partial to any but me. Even I receive a nip or too from the curmudgeon.” He chuckles and touches the horse’s thick neck. “others have nearly lost a finger and even sacrificed garment or two.”

“A creature so volatile, he makes a good war horse?”

“She,” he corrects you.

“Oh, apologies.”

“I doubt she minds,” he muses and pets her long nose as she raises her head. “She is restless. She would do good for the exercise.”

He lowers his hand and unclasps the stall door. He pulls it out as you step out of the way. The horse clomps through, kicking impatiently as it blows through its lips. The king moves parallel to you and draws you before him. Before you or Roach can react, he has you aloft, urging you onto the horse’s unsaddled back.

“Hold tight,” he girds and puts his hands to the horse’s shoulder, “come, Roach.”

The horse starts and you press your hands to her back, clamping on with your thighs. You rock with her motion to keep from slipping. You duck with the mount as she bends through the door the king holds open. The winter snows dusts down on you as you emerge.

The king drags his palm along the horse’s side and swings himself up with little effort. He sit behind you, Roach not missing a step or buckling at his ascent. He pulls you snug to him, tugging up your hood as the chill nips at your cheeks. He wraps his arms around you and clutches a swathe of the horse’s braids. He whistles and leans, guiding the horse away from the castle.

“She is obedient,” you remark at her agile response.

“I prefer mares for that reason,” he returns. You wonder if it is a quip meant for the queen or yourself. Perhaps both. “It isn’t very far, though the path is steep.”

You nod and stare at the white expanse, a few jutting rocks pocking out above the carpet of snow, leafless branches reaching out here and there. The horse carries you to a ledge, narrow and treacherous, and you lean back into the King Geralt as the edge has you dizzy. He slips his hand beneath your cloak to squeeze your hip.

“I have you, treasure, you needn’t fear,” he assures.”

“Yes, your highness, thank you,” you touch his knuckles and shiver.

“Sweet summer maid,” he purrs as he draws you snugger. “This winter is harsh but I will keep you warm.”

You shudder and hang your head. For so much comfort as he offers, you find little. It isn’t only the snow which chills you.

You ride on, the impact of hooves softened by the layers below, the air hollow and biting as it seeps beneath your hood. The sky ripples grey and seems to darken as you descend the curling path along the cliff’s edge. At once, you are plunged into thick blackness.

The world levels out and the king shifts, sliding off the mount to land on his feet. You peek over your shoulder and see the grim light through the mouth of the cave. The king touches your leg and you turn, letting him help you from the height. Roach kicks and spits.

The king frames your waist before he releases you. You listen to his steps as he moves through the dim. There’s is a scratch as he strikes flint and flame illuminates his shadow. He bends and takes something from the ground. He pauses and works with one hand, wrapping something around the thick stick. He lights the length of linen around the wood’s tip, a torch to see you along.

“She will stay, she is not keen on confinement, especially underground,” he girds and removes his own cloak, draping it over the horses back, “the air enlivens me, I shouldn’t need that much.”

He wears a leather coat, sewn of thick strips of black and studded with silver. He approaches you and bends his arm, offering it gallantly as a gentleman might with a lady. You hesitate and hook your arm through it, hugging his elbow as he leads you deeper, the torch flickering with each step.

You enter a tunnel with rocky tendrils stretching from top to bottom, encased in layers of ice and frost. The flame illuminates the frozen layers. Deeper and deeper you go, quiet as your curiosity mingles with concern. Where are you going?

Your boot slips on a slippery patch but the king keeps you upright. You thank him and bring your other arm across to steady yourself on his bicep. You feel his muscle bulging beneath. You do not doubt his promises. He will keep you safe. Down here, but you doubt what he might do without.

He raises the torch as the air thins and you the cave opens up. You look around as the walls lay beyond the breadth of the torches glow. Your eyes are drawn by the icy fingers hanging from the ceiling. There is one close to you. You reach to touch its pointed tip.

“Icicles,” the king says, “be careful of the thin ones, they might fall.”

He moves the torch to show more, all around you, light fangs the line the cave, lining the edges. The flame sparkles on their eerie translucence. Then the king lowers the light and you look down beneath your feet. You’re stand on ice!

“Your highness,” you instinctively pull yourself closer to him, your soles sliding as you try to walk further.

“It will not break,” he assures you as he urges you on, “this cave never thaws, even in the warmer months. They call it the Moth’s Den.” He leads you across the ice and your eyes catch on the icicles, thick and thin, some pointed, some reach to touch the floor. You hear an odd hum, almost a buzz, and he sweeps the torch before you.

You stop to gape at the wall before you. It looks soft and fluffy, almost like fur. Then you lean closer and see the wings. Pale silver moths, fluttering in place, clinging to the wall. Their fuzzy bodies line every morsel of the space.

“Snow moths. Harmless creatures. Unlike their summer counterparts, the detest the light,” he extends his arm and a circle along the icy wall is sudden bare as the moths move to avoid the glare. “When I was a boy, I always wanted to have one as a pet. I could never get one past the entrance before it escaped and flew back to the depths.”

You blink and lower your hand from his arm, though you stay hooked onto him, “I didn’t think this was your home.”

“As a boy it was. At least, that’s how I saw it. My father, king of the day, sent me here to train with Lord Vesemir. As much to keep me out of trouble. I am not unaware of myself. I was not the best behaved. Vesemir took me in and he bides no mischief,” King Geralt explains, “though he does not rule without compassion. He taught me many things more than discipline. He taught me,” the king peers over at you, “that my heart should be heard just as plainly as my mind. If you do not balance them, then it will all topple.”

You look back at him. Your chest aches deeply. Doesn’t he know you don’t have that privilege? Can he not see that you do not get that choice? Even for a king.

You might never had cared for Lady Rezlyn and her gossip. You think it cruel and unkind. Often you wonder if she spoke less of others, if she might gain more friends. You never engaged much in Merinda’s whispers either. But you heard them and you know what becomes of mistresses.

The other woman. That’s what you’ll become. A whore. A name to be spat. A figure to be avoided. A maid might be ignored but she neither favoured or despised. She just is. She has her purpose. A mistress only has the stain put upon her. The one who taints who my walk away, but she never will.

“The ice becomes you, treasure. The cold it... pales to your beauty,” he smiles down at you. His gold eyes are vibrant and his fine features are even more admirable in the limn of the flame.

He lifts his chin and takes steady steps away from the wall and leads you towards a jutting stone at the other end of the cavern. He bends to plant the torches base in the crevice at its foot. The torch leans but stands on its own.

He faces you, untangling from your arm, and puts his hands on your shoulders, “I want to know what you think. Tell me. Do you like my homeland? Do you like the winter?”

Your lips part and you glance up. Your eyes wander around the space and you turn your head. You raise your hands to touch the king’s leather gloves.

“I think I do,” you answer. You can’t deny the beauty even if it is deadly. “I might think differently should I meet a bear or a wolf.”

“It is why you must stay close, treasure, I would never let a beast get anywhere near,” he avows, “I refer to all beasts. Be it man or animal. You will always have me. You needn’t be afraid.”

You lower your eyes. You can’t say the truth. He knows it but he refuses it. His is a king, he might bend even the world to his whim. You let your hands trails down his forearms. He drops his hands and takes yours.

“Will you tell me more? About when you were a boy?” You ask, hoping to forget the present a little longer. You are intrigued to think of this man as just a child. It is a rather impossible concept.

“Hm, well,” he lets go of you and moves around you. He comes behind you and presses himself to your back. He rocks you as he turns you to admire the cave, “I would come to these caves and talk to myself...” he laughs rockily, “you see, if you holler loud enough, your voice bounces back at you. Lord Vesemir, he is not always in the mind for conversation and horses can be just as finicky.”

He continues to turn you with him. Even without his cloak, his warmth seeps into you.

“And I would gather bouquets of frostwart and white willowrods for they are the closest to flowers that grow here. I would put the bunches all around, as if I was too be coronated. I was told every day I would be king and I wanted to be ready, but mostly, I’d pretend I was at tourney. I would have my practice sword and I would parry with the air. The air was not so mean as Vesemir with his jabs.”

You listen, closing your eyes, trying to see it in your head. A white-haired boy with his golden eyes and flowers and swords. Now a man who’s marched through blood and dirt. How time changes more than the seasons, it transforms all.

“What of you, maid? I want to know of you. When you were a child, did you frolic with the rabbits and the squirrels?”

You go rigid. You try to pull away but he has you caught. You lean back and exhale heavily.

“The life of a maid isn’t very interesting,” your murmur.

“You were always a maid? Even when you were young?”

“Always,” you affirm. “I emptied pots, brought Lord Dustan his boots, though at times, Lady Jazlene required a playmate...”

He’s quiet at the mention of his wife. You feel the crack in your heart. Your nose is numb and tingling.

“Yet, how did you become a maid? Before that, was there nothing?” He asks.

“Please, your highness--”

“I bid you call me by my name.”

“Geralt,” you utter, “please, I beg you, I wouldn’t speak of before.”

“Did you have parents? Siblings--”

“None of it,” you hiss and elbow away from him, throwing your arms out to keep balance. You spin and shake your head, “please. My parents are dead. Long gone. And the memories I have of them are nothing more than that. They’ve only ever been dead to me.”

He is taken aback, his face pale and cheeks tight, “treasure, forgive me, I only... I want to know everything of you--”

“You know what I am. I am a maid. That is it. That is all I can ever be. I am not a lady, not a wife, not a queen,” you clap your hands together, the impact softened by your mittens, “you cannot make me anything different, king as you may be. I will only ever serve, and you will only ever command.”

His lips part and he steps towards you, “that isn’t true.”

“It’s what must be true,” you look to your feet, “might I make a request?”

“Anything,” he says.

“Take me back to the castle,” you raise your eyes.

He nods solemnly and reaches for you, “as you wish.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

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sundrop-writes · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! I hope this is okay to send because I’ve sent this type of request to others (and I know that’s normally bad) BUT it’s because I enjoy the different opinions of all the amazing writers!!! It’s not a fic request but just a request for your top headcanons for Spencer Reid.

The things that you’re like “this is canon and I’ll fight you over it” - smut, nsfw, tame, domestic, anything - just your opinions/rants!

(If it’s not okay to ask though please accept my apology!!! I’m still learning the social etiquette of tumblr requests! ) - 🌑

I definitely think this is okay to send to different writers, because you will usually get very different results - usually writers don't like it when you send a request that can only get similar results (asking for a narrative fic with a detailed, similar plot). But I love giving my random headcanons about characters.

Random Spencer Reid Headcanons

And okay, the first one I have in mind for Spencer is so weird.

One of the headliners that I always have in mind for Spencer - he wears tighty whities.

Like - the only kind of underwear that he wears are the classic hanes briefs (usually white, maybe heather grey, never black or any other 'fun' colour) - he doesn't wear boxer briefs, he doesn't wear boxers. Whenever I see a fic saying 'and then Spencer took off his boxer briefs', I'm like: "no, you don't know him like I do".

Spencer is a fucking nerd. Spencer is the type of fucking nerd who would insist on wearing the nerdiest underwear - tighty whities. And people probably write about him wearing boxer briefs because those are the sexy men's underwear and briefs are not like 'hot' to picture men in - but that is exactly why I HC him as wearing them and exactly why I mention that he wears them in every single one of my fics.

Spencer would wear the dorkiest underwear in expectation that he's not going into a sexual situation. He wears his underwear thinking that he's not going to fuck - he's not going to have to 'impress' anyone. Also, over time, of writing several fics about him and thinking about Spencer for 100s of hours a week - I have come to develop this kind of kink for picturing his giant nine inch cock trapped inside the crotch of a pair of briefs, hard and struggling to fit in there. It would be hot in its own way. (Which, Spencer always is.)

Speaking of his cock - you may notice that with a lot of my fics, I take the time to describe in depth what a male character's dick looks like. This is because I take the time to picture and think about what a characters dick looks like and how it is different from other characters (because no, not every characters dick is nine inches, thick and veiny. no) - I call it the Dickscription. And I think it's a very important part of characterization.

Spencer is eight to nine inches (when fully hard) - but he is skinny. His cock is a bean pole, just like he is. You would look at his dick and call it a snake. His cock is very smooth - the skin on it is baby soft and smooth, rather than veiny, and Spencer does not shave his pubes. Spencer is a full bush kind of guy - because he is terrified of putting a razor anywhere near his dick. He would only shave if you helped him and if he trusted you a lot. And he had a very thick, dark bush of hair near the top, around the base of his cock, but it gets more sparse around his balls, which even get soft and fuzzy in some places. (I have thought about this way. too. much.)

He is uncut, and when he gets really needy and teased or if you don't let him cum, then his cock turns a really bright shade of pink or even red, and the colour goes across his whole cock so his cock becomes like this beautiful bright pink rocket - and he leaks. Spencer is a very leaky guy, to the point where he gets everything so wet before he can even cum.

(These headcanons are getting out of control, lets get back to something more wholesome, shall we?)

Spencer is the kind of person to take himself on dates. On the rare occasion that he gets a day off, Spencer indulges in going out alone. It's not necessarily that he likes the solitude, but he's used to it because he spent his entire childhood pretty much alone, and there are a lot of activities that he likes that he thinks no one else he knows will enjoy. So he tries to enjoy treating himself to a day out alone.

He will bring a few good books to a cafe and drink a few expensive lattes (and probably eat a few pastries) and simply enjoy the peace and quiet of reading by himself for a while. He'll go to a book store and browse for hours before finally picking something. He'll go to a naturally history museum and walk around by himself, not tied to the whims of what someone else wants to see.

Hmmm

Maybe some relationship headcanons?

(Because we all love Spencer, lets face it.)

This is something I bring up in Careful (as you guys will see) - but I genuinely believe that Spencer Reid would treat his partner like royalty. He is someone who has spent years reading about romance - especially with his mother reading him so much classic literature, he regards the classics as the bar for romance (and he just hopes that his life doesn't become one of the tragedies where one or both partners die in the end). So he's not the 'Netflix and Chill' type - and he definitely doesn't bring you to the movies to sit in silence on a date.

He is the type of person to hire a violinist to play your favourite song by the table on a date, he will open doors for you, help you with your coat, pull out chairs for you, recite poetry to you (probably in other languages just because it sounds beautiful).

He will always think of the most unique dates to take you on. He'll take you to museums, to an observatory, to the orchestra - he'll take you to a large, elegant library that has rare books and recite lines from those classic books to you while you're there. He would take you to plays or a midnight picnic by a lake. Dates with him would never be boring or typical - it would be like living in a romantic movie.

A lot of people HC that Spencer would not be into PDA because he's too shy, but I don't think that's the case. Early seasons Spencer maybe, but I think that even he would get to a point where he's just so enamoured with you that he needs to touch you in public. But his PDA wouldn't be steamy or smutty, it would be romantic and soft and passionate.

He would keep a hand on your lower back while walking around, a sign that he's right there with you, a gentle signal to anyone around that you're with him. He would lean in close to speak right in your ear - showing that his words are only for you, that nobody else in the vicinity deserves to hear what he has to say, only you do.

He would graze his fingertips right across your arm, causing goosebumps on your skin. He would stare into your eyes with such intense, burning passion. And he would kiss you in public - lingering only long enough to leave you wanting more. And on occasion, he would lean in to kiss your neck or bring your hand up to kiss the back of it - gentle things to show his appreciation of you without giving away too much for prying eyes to see.

Dating Spencer would be like dating a prince from a hallmark movie, I swear to god.

(That's all I have for now, because if I keep thinking about this too much, I may explode because Spencer is not real and I can't actually date him.)

#sundrop writes #requests #requested #spencer reid #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months ago

Text

Poisonously Bad Day

Requested Here! (Thank you so much for my first Tim Bradford req!!)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: Just before your anniversary with Tim, you receive threatening messages. When someone tries to take your life, you and Tim learn the importance of talking to one another. (Or, Tim's crazy ex stalks you and Tim gets really worried about you.)

Warnings: reader is stalked and threatened, violence with a nail gun, reader has severe food allergies and uses an epi-pen, a little bit of grumpy x sunshine with our favorite grump, angst to fluff & hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: I do not have much practice writing for Tim, so I apologize if he's OOC. However, I really love writing for him and trying to capture his amazing character, so I love the practice and appreciate any other requests you send me! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Tim Bradford doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Or he didn’t before he met you. Your sunny personality drew him in, making his world a little brighter. From the moment he met you a few months ago, Tim has been enraptured by you. He’s still grumpy; his personality didn’t change overnight upon meeting you, but your sweet laugh and kind responses to his grumpiness make him happy. His smile isn’t as rare as it once was, but you still fight to see it, bringing as much sunshine as possible.

As your two-month anniversary approaches, you’re happier and giddier than usual. Toning it down as you knock on Tim’s door, you’re surprised to see him already smiling when he invites you in. It seems you’re rubbing off on him, even if he only shows you the softness that lies under the grumpy Tim you know and love. Although your relationship is very new, you haven’t even learned much about Tim’s previous relationships, you know you love him and treasure every moment you spend with your man of honor.

“Hey, you,” Tim mumbles, pulling you into a warm hug. “Missed you.”

“Long day?” you ask, pushing your fingers through his hair.

“Unbelievably. Nolan and Lopez decided to interrogate me about why I was in a ‘good mood’ all day.”

You stifle a laugh at Tim’s air quotes. He rolls his eyes when he sees your bright smile but pulls you into the kitchen anyway.

“I didn’t even know you could smile,” you tease him. “Now I want to know what caused the good mood.”

“I think you know.”

Despite his initial hesitance in getting close to you, Tim obviously knows how to treat you right and make you feel seen, appreciated, beautiful, and loved. Each moment you spend with him makes you a little more curious as to why no one has snatched him up yet. Yes, he’s grumpy, but he’s also just a big teddy bear underneath if you’re willing to dig.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim usually walks you home after dates, but he gets called into work, so you return alone. There is a small envelope slipped in the space between your door and the jamb, and you decide to open it before going inside.

The simple message reading ‘Back Off’ doesn’t give much information, so you shrug as you unlock the door. It’s probably just some kids messing around or a silly prank that ended up at the wrong house.

As soon as you lock the door behind you, your phone rings.

“Hello,” you greet cheerfully.

The line is silent for a few seconds before it beeps, disconnected from the other end.

“Wrong number,” you hum to yourself as you walk away from the phone.

When it rings again, you don’t answer. Your cell phone rings, a rare picture of Tim smiling (that he will delete as soon as he finds it) lighting up your screen as you race to answer it.

“Hey,” you say.

“I called your house a second ago, are you home yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, someone called right before with a wrong number, and I thought it was them again.”

Tim hums before telling you he wouldn’t be at work as long as he thought; he just needed to help with some paperwork before a case went to court.

“I can get reservations for next weekend if you’re still okay with my restaurant choice.”

You smile at Tim’s willingness to let you choose before assuring him that you only want to be with him, but you like the food there, too, so it’s a win-win.

After Tim hangs up, you fall asleep, forgetting about the note and the phone call.

✯✯✯✯✯

Someone knocks on your door as you exit your bedroom the following morning. You locate a bathrobe, pulling it over your pajamas before opening the door. Another envelope is on your mat, but no one is in sight.

The message in this one is a bit more concerning. The message, typed in a plain black font, reads: ‘I will KILL you to take him back.’

You consider calling Tim, asking him if he knows of any pranks like this going on in the neighborhood before deciding he’s probably too busy with real police work. Maybe you’re just paranoid.

Your cell phone rings, and you answer quickly, silencing when the only noise on the other end is distorted breathing. After they hang up, your thumb hovers over Tim’s number.

“Grow up,” you chide yourself before returning to your room to get ready.

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the day, more creepy phone calls are made to your cell phone until you finally turn it off. When you meet Tim for lunch, he asks if you got the message he sent you, and you tell him a white lie: too many telemarketers were calling, and you turned it off. He nods, but his gaze is intense like he doesn’t quite believe you.

✯✯✯✯✯

After three days of phone calls with nothing but breathing and more notes about someone killing you to get whoever him is back from you, you’re tired. However, the morning goes by with no calls, and you think maybe whatever it was is finally over. When you walk out to your car, you freeze in the driveway and nearly drop everything you’re holding.

Someone has slashed your tire and put a large building nail through it to attach a note.

You are next.

Up to this point, you’ve been more agitated than anything, but now you’re scared. Whoever this is has been close to you and knows when you come and go. But, at the same time, it’s just some notes and phone calls, not like you’re in any immediate danger.

Your phone buzzes, and you jump, an incoming text from Tim startling you. You reply to his message quickly, telling him you ran over a nail at some point and won’t be able to meet him for lunch. Seconds after pressing send, he calls you.

“Morning,” you answer, staring at the nail in your tire.

“Are you alright?” he asks, ignoring your nice greeting.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m still at home, just noticed the tire.”

“I can come pick you up for lunch,” he offers. “Or come see you.”

“It’s completely out of the way, Tim, no worries. I’ll make up for it tomorrow?”

Tim doesn’t speak for a moment, and you can nearly see the crease on his forehead as he dissects your answers.

“Sure,” he says finally. “Call me if that changes.”

As he ends the call, he rubs his chin and decides to ask you what’s going on next time he sees you. You had been so happy and excited leading up to your anniversary, but it’s like a switch was flipped in you, and now you don’t want to talk to him. He believes you about the tire, but something else is bothering you, and he intends to find out what.

✯✯✯✯✯

Eating lunch at your desk, someone brings you a box from your favorite bakery.

“This was delivered to the front desk,” your coworker says, leaving it with you.

There are no names on it, but Tim is one of very few people who knows how much you like their treats. He also knows that you have severe food allergies, and it is one of the few bakeries in Los Angeles that happily works around them. Smiling at the idea of Tim sending you something after your rough morning, you open the box and take one of the goodies out.

After the third or fourth bite, you realize something is really wrong. As your throat closes, you start to panic as you dig through your bag for your epi-pen. One of the girls at a desk near you sees you and rushes to your aid, pulling your spare epi-pen from the communal snack area and inserting the tip into your leg as she yells for someone else to call 911.

The adrenaline surges into you, clearing your throat as you take a deep breath. Immediately, you know that whoever slashed your tires knows more than where you live and when you leave.

✯✯✯✯✯

The hospital is busy, and people are in and out of your room so frequently that you can barely think straight. You hear someone yell your name, recognizing Tim’s voice anywhere. He appears in the doorway a moment later, wide-eyed as he looks you over.

“I completely forgot I put you as my emergency contact. I’m so sorry,” you apologize lowly.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice softer than it was outside as he nears your side.

“I- I ate something and forgot to check the ingredients. Then I couldn’t find my epi-pen.”

Tim knows you always check the ingredients; your allergies dictate part of your life. If you didn’t make it or order it after inquiring about its ingredients or how it’s made, you don’t eat it.

“How are you feeling now?” Tim asks, deciding it’s not the best time to press for the truth. His hand lands on your leg, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

“I’m okay. My chest is still a little tight but they gave me something for it.”

“Let me call my chief and I’ll take the rest of the day off so I can take you home,” he offers.

“No, don’t do that, Tim. One of my coworkers can give me a ride home so you can go back to work.”

“I don’t think you should be alone.”

“The medicine is working, I just have to give it time and take it easy for a few hours. I promise I will be fine.”

Tim nods, squeezing your hand before kissing your forehead. “If you need anything, call me.”

You nod, watching him go. The feeling of his hand on yours is still there, and you feel terrible for lying to him, but there’s no real evidence that someone is trying to hurt you. Maybe someone was trying to be kind with the treats and didn’t know about your allergies.

Even as you think it, you realize it sounds ridiculous. You’re in danger, and you’re going to have to tell someone eventually.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your coworker drops you off after you insist you can walk to the door alone. Mostly, you don’t want her to see the giant nail in your tire.

Worse, you realize, is the other one. You slow when you see your front door, with a six-inch building nail driven into it. It’s nearly level with your eyes, and a disgusting mix of red and brown paint covers the door below it. A replica of a murder scene, you presume.

Finally understanding that every little thing over the last few days has been a threat, you don’t feel safe alone in your house. Stepping back, you prepare to call Tim.

Before you can, you see a woman standing in your driveway, staring at you with a nail gun and a paintbrush hanging from her hand.

“Who are you?” you ask quietly, swallowing as you try to steady your voice.

“I’m the one that Tim Bradford is supposed to be with,” she answers, slowly moving toward you. “Everyone could see how good we were together. Then you showed up and he changed his mind about me. Whatever you did to get him away from me… I will do so much more to you.”

You step backward as she speaks, fumbling with your keys behind your back. Just as she reaches the front of your porch, you step inside quickly and slam the door, locking it and looking around frantically for something you can use as a weapon. It gets quiet outside, not even a footstep audible as you hold your breath to listen.

A key slides easily into your lock, and you scramble into the kitchen, loosening your grip on your stuff to grab a knife on your way to the bathroom, one of the only doors that lock. The front door closes and locks, her easy footsteps far too familiar with the layout of your home.

Reaching for your phone to call for help, you realize that you dropped your phone to get the knife. You stand in front of the bathtub, terrified as you raise the knife in front of your chest.

After a moment of silence that seems to last an eternity, the doorknob jiggles. You tighten your grip on the knife handle as she hums.

A nail shoots through the lock, lodging in the metal mechanisms, and you back up until your calves are pressed to the cool side of the tub. Another nail comes through the door, launching through the hollow wood and lodging into the tile on the wall behind you. You drop your head as the tile shatters, and a third nail follows quickly, her aim much lower as it hooks your pants, pinning you to the porcelain behind you. You rip your leg free, stepping away from the tub and failing to notice the stinging sensation or the blood trickling down your ankle as you climb into the tub, hoping it offers enough protection.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim clenches his jaw when his third call to you goes unanswered. You promised to keep him updated after the anaphylaxis scare, but it’s been a couple hours since he left you in the hospital, and he hasn't heard a thing.

“Tim, just go,” Angela says, a knowing look on her face. “You won’t be able to focus until you know they’re okay. Unless you’re finally willing to tell me who brought a little sunshine to Timothy Bradford’s cloudy skies,” she taunts at the end.

Tim lets out a soft “hmm,” accepting her offer and gathering his things from the edge of her desk.

“She must be important,” Angela calls behind him, smirking to herself when he doesn’t correct her.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your breaths are loud and shaky even as you focus on controlling them. Several more clicks are heard from the nail gun, and you flinch each time, curling further into the bathtub. A loud screech draws your attention, a second nail dislodging the knob and the lock before the door opens.

You take your chance, hoping to surprise her as you jump toward her, knocking her to the floor and using both hands to point the nail gun away from you. She tries to roll out from under you, squeezing the trigger and firing a nail into the ceiling as she does. A small shower of drywall dust coats the room, but you keep your head down, entirely focused on keeping her at arm’s length.

“When it ends – when you end – I get him back!” she grunts, twisting in your grasp.

The sharper end of the paintbrush she had earlier is pushed into your side, and you gasp, loosening your grip on the nail gun. She raises it quickly as she tilts to the side, dumping you onto the floor and taking the upper hand. A nail is fired beside your head, momentarily deafening you as you flinch away from it.

You are unsure if she said him or Tim, but you think she means the same either way. Tim is the only thing you can think of that someone might want to take back from you.

“Isn’t that his choice?” you ask, pushing her hands away from you as she gets angrier.

She drops the paintbrush before using both hands to push the nail gun toward your forehead. You raise your legs, kicking her forward and over your head. As she topples, she squeezes the trigger multiple times. After the last firing sound, you open your eyes and notice a nail holding your shirt to the floor.

When you hear her groan behind you, you reach over until you feel the metal trash can beside your toilet, raising it over your head and dropping it aimlessly.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim has dozens of questions he wants to ask, but as he races to your house, they slowly fade into two: are you safe, and how can he make you see that telling him everything will benefit you both? He knows he doesn’t always seem like the best listener and isn’t big on sharing, but he wants to know what is happening in your life, what you’re feeling, and what you’re dealing with. More than that, he wants to be at your side, helping you navigate a life with him.

✯✯✯✯✯

The door opens with a loud bang, causing you to flinch. You attempt to sit up before yelping in pain when something tugs your side. Someone is running through your house, and you’re torn between yelling for help or staying silent in case she wasn’t working alone.

Tim yells your name, and you sigh before answering, “In the bathroom.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Tim turns into your driveway, blocking the sidewalk as he parks behind your car, he sees the oversized nail protruding from your tire. Walking past it, he knows that wasn’t accidental, nor was the slash below it.

Worried about you and racking his brain over who would do something like that to you, he sees the scene on your door and kicks it open before he even thinks to knock.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim stops in the hallway, his eyes raking over the nails lining the door and the few stray ones in the wall across the hallway. It appears that most of the attack was aimed at the bathroom, but whatever happened escalated quickly.

Using his shoulder, he forcefully opens the door before entering the small bathroom. He steps over your unconscious assailant, lowering to his knee beside you. Looking over you, he lays a hand on the side of your neck, a warm and welcome comfort as he directs you to look at him.

You try to move closer to him, but he rushes to stop you.

“Don’t. Don’t move. The ambulance and more help are on the way, let’s just wait for them,” he says.

You nod, trusting him but unsure why he won’t let you move.

“Is she…” you ask, trailing off.

“She’s unconscious,” Tim answers concisely. “What’d you hit her with?”

“The trashcan,” you answer, a small smile appearing and making Tim shake his head.

“I should get one of those,” Tim jokes, leaning toward you.

Sirens grow louder as they get closer, and Tim sighs in relief.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I can’t ask what happened yet, that’s for the next cop. But as your boyfriend, are you okay?”

“I am now,” you answer, raising your hand to lay over his on your jaw.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Do you know who she is?” the officer asks as the EMT sits beside you.

“No,” you answer. “I’ve been getting phone calls and messages for a few days, but I’ve never seen her before.”

“I have,” Tim interjects, shaking his head at you before supplying a name. “My ex.”

“Any idea as to why she attacked you?” the officer asks, glancing toward Tim.

“Sergeant Bradford, I presume. She said she’d kill me to get him back, but never said who him was,” you answer.

Tim nods, lowering his voice to explain something to the officer as the EMT asks questions about how you feel.

You sigh in relief as the paramedics carry Tim’s unconscious ex out, gripping Tim’s hand as he moves to your side again.

“This is going to hurt, I’m sorry,” the kind EMT says.

Tim moves his fingers, letting you squeeze him as much as you need.

“The nail caught some of your skin, but I’m going to try to go fast to minimize the pain.”

Understanding why it hurt to sit up before, you focus on Tim’s hand in yours rather than the hands on your torso, working to free you from the bathroom floor and stop the bleeding.

“All done,” the EMT announces. “You didn’t even flinch. We’ll get you to the hospital and let the doctors check everything.”

You sit up with Tim’s help, leaning against him as a temporary bandage is placed on your side. Looking around your destroyed bathroom, you move closer to Tim, grateful for him.

“Your ex is crazy,” you mumble against his shoulder.

Tim laughs, and it's a short but relieved noise accompanying his arm across your back, keeping you close and comforted.

“We’ll fix the bathroom later,” he promises.

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, prompting Tim to kiss the crease between them. “You’re not coming back here for a few days. Don’t give me that look.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Leaving the hospital, Tim lifts you from the wheelchair, staring at you when you grab his shoulders.

“I can walk, Tim,” you remind him.

He doesn’t listen or doesn’t care, taking the last few steps to the passenger seat and setting you down before buckling your seat belt, mindful of your bandaged side. He carries you into his house, grabbing some of your favorite snacks and drinks before sitting beside you and welcoming you into his arms. He’s quiet, but you’ve grown to understand Tim’s different silences better than most people’s words.

Right now, he’s relieved, but you’re sure he has a lot of questions, too. Getting him to ask them is the hard part.

“Have any other exes I should know about?” you ask after a few minutes.

“Hmm.” He raises his fingers as he nods and shakes his head, a playful ‘debate’ over who is worthy of being mentioned. Lowering his hands and giving you a sincere look, he says, “No, I don’t think so. And I’m sorry I didn’t mention her, I never expected she’d do something like this.”

You nod, though you never considered blaming him for something so completely out of his control. This is all on her, and she’ll have a chance to explain herself.

“Think I’d be a crazy ex?”

“You won’t be an ex at all,” Tim answers, tugging you closer against his chest.

Turning toward him, you trace your finger in small shapes over his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tim asks gently.

You shrug. “I didn’t know how. And it wasn’t that bad at first.”

“You have to tell me these things or I don’t know something is wrong, I can’t help.”

“But you get grumpy,” you reply with an exaggerated pout.

Tim proves you right, grumbling even as he kisses you. “I’m allowed to be grumpy when someone is hurting the woman I love.”

You sit up quickly, and Tim’s eyes widen, his hands raising to your side as he grows concerned that you hurt yourself.

“You love me?”

Tim shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he mutters, “Against my better judgment, yes.”

You giggle at his grumpiness, leaning back into his side. He pulls your legs across his lap, letting you curl completely into his side. Toying with the hem of his your borrowed sweatpants, Tim lets his mind wander before tracing a gentle finger around the bandage on your ankle.

“Tickles,” you argue when you yank your leg away from him.

Tim pulls your leg back down, pointing out, “I deserve a few tickles after the week you put me through.”

“I was poisoned, and you had a bad week?” you repeat.

“I knew you were lying, you lying liar that lies!”

You duck your head at the reminder of everything you kept from Tim over the last few days. The anniversary you were so excited about now seems tainted.

“Hey,” Tim whispers, drawing your attention. “I’m not mad at you. And whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m right here.”

“I don’t even know how she found out about the allergies,” you mumble.

“That’s probably my fault. I have notes and epi-pens everywhere, so if she was close enough to do this to you, she was close enough to find any of my stuff laying around.”

You shiver at the idea of her going through your things, but Tim’s hand rubs down your back and chases those thoughts away.

Taking his invitation, you start at the beginning and tell him about the notes, the phone calls, the bakery box, and how the little, seemingly harmless notes progressed so quickly. He grows grumpier with each word, so you determine you may need to make the ending a bit more interesting for him.

“And then my knight in shining armor showed up and saved the day,” you finish, kissing his cheek. “He’s just a grumpy teddy bear.”

Tim pulls you closer, glad to have your company again. “Tell me things and I’ll be even more of a teddy bear.”

You smile excitedly, so Tim clarifies, “Only for you.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #tw: violence #tw: injury #🐿 anon

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huskersbooze · 7 months ago

Note

Helloo! Can i Request an alastor x reader angst? (I love angst im sorry😭) where reader n alastor are good friends, but soon alastor starts catching feelings, he didn’t like that so he starts ignoring reader hoping it’ll go away, but when alastor realizes it doesn’t, he wanted to apologize for ignoring reader and maybe confessing, but he couldn’t cause he found out reader got redeemed into heaven? Please and thank you!!

A/N : Oh fuck yes I'm a sucker for angst. This is actually a really interesting concept! Completely opposite to my other fic where Reader ignores Al. Thank you for the ask <3

Alastor Doesn't Do Feelings

Alastor x Reader

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here, Gn!Reader here)

Warnings : Cusing(what do you expect? It's Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags : Angst, no use of (Y/n), use of dear/darling

Word count : 1.25k

It was never supposed to turn out this way. Alastor, the fucking Radio Demon, doesn't do feelings.

But here he was, finding himself getting flustered, his cheeks red, ears pinned back and his smile faltering.

And it was all because of you.

"-and so I told him to back the heck away, but I swear his brain can't seem to comprehend simple words! He-"

You went on and on about your day, but Alastor could only focus on the close proximity between the two of you and your hand came so close to brushing his every minute or so.

"Alastor! Freaking hell!" He snapped out of his trance when he heard you yell his name.

He cleared his throat, quickly gathering himself once more, "Yes, darling?"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Of course, I was." Which, frankly, was a lie.

"Just go to bed, dipshit."

"I don't need sleep."

"Your brain is hijacked, Al." You try to give his ears a scratch. Alastor attempts a dodge but fails. "See? You can't even dodge a simple pet on the head."

"I let you do that."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Darling, you know I don't sleep."

"It was an expression, babe."

He knew you meant it as a joke, a light-humoured name you called him; like how he called you "dear" or "darling".

But he couldn't help the blush that found a way to his face.

"Alastor! You're doing it again!"

"I beg your pardon?" He snaps out from his trance.

"You're dozing off again. Are your radio parts radio-ing properly?"

"I'm not an actual radio, my dear."

"Well, you sure act like a broken down machine." You let out a giggle, him doing the same, but it ultimately sounded like he was buffering.

"You need help." You get up and give him another ruffle behind the ears, catching him off guard. "G'night, Al."

He doesn't respond.

He's too busy screaming internally.

-----

Alastor doesn't do feelings. Yet, here he was a broken mess because of you.

No, this was unacceptable. All he'd work for. His reputation. The danger it'd put you in.

He couldn't afford any of that gone — especially not you.

How was he to get rid of this weird churning he gets in his stomach when you near, though? How was he to stop loving you?

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings. He nearly did, once, because of you. But he’d found a way to stop it.

Or so, he thought.

“Good morning, Al.”

Out of everyone in the hotel, you were the one person he could tolerate. Despite your polar interests and behaviour, Alastor actually found it quite enjoyable to be by your side.

Sure, you rarely cursed, was so sweet and couldn’t bare the thought of killing, but Alastor never minded. You were the one person he looked forward to seeing everyday. He would usually only talk to you.

“Husker, may I have a word?” Yet, here Alastor was, completely ignoring your existence like you were some irrelevant imp a few rings down.

“Uh, sure, boss.” Husk sends you a questioning stare as you return the favour.

He didn’t actually have anything to say to him; it just hurt to see you. The feelings still lingered and he couldn’t do jackshit about it.

Staying away from you was only supposed to get rid of his feelings, not intensify them.

“Alastor?” Yet, your voice captivated him in every way possible and his desire to be yours increased.

He simply left the room, and the two of you never spoke after that.

-----

“Alastor doesn’t do feelings, honey.”

“I know, Rosie! But we’re just friends and he knows that.” You take a sip from the tea Rosie prepared for you. “Though, lately, he’s been completely disregarding my presence like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Don’t look too much into it! I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just Alastor being Alastor.”

“But it’s not.” You sigh. “Something’s changed between us and I’m not sure what it is.”

“Well, did anything specific happen?”

“I.. I don’t know.” Your voice cracks at the agony. “I just.. Everything was fine that night. I just told him to sleep and the next morning it’s like I never existed.”

“Hm. That does sound odd.”

“Exactly! And I’m not sure what to do or if- if I’ve angered him- or- or maybe he’s sick of me-”

“Honey, breathe.” Rosie’s hand finds yours across the table as she rubs soothing circles on the back of your palm. “It’s in his nature to be sending mixed signals. Just give him time. He’ll come to terms with you eventually.”

“Are.. Are you sure?”

“You came to me for a reason.” She jokes, though her warm smile never left her face.

“Thank you, Rosie.”

-----

Alastor, your beloved strawberry pimp, doesn’t do feelings. He didn’t, he doesn’t and he won’t.

At least, that was before he realised he was catching feelings for you.

He’s tried so hard to ignore it. He’s done everything he could to ignore you, but despite his best efforts, you still found a way to float straight back into his mind.

“Alastor?”

“Yes, darling?” It took him a while to comprehend the fact he accidentally called Husk “darling”. His mind was just filled with thoughts of you.

“Uh.. anyways.” Husk cleared his throat. “You were close with the kid, right?”

“I suppose.” He shrugs, saying it as a matter of fact-ly. “Nothing serious.”

Alastor nearly flinched as he said it himself.

Nothing serious.

But in fact, it was starting to get serious. He was in love with you, head-over-heels obsessed, but he couldn’t come to terms with the fact and decided to push you away.

Fuck. What was he thinking?

“Yes, well I just.. wanted to let ya’ know she’s-”

“In a minute, Husker.” He says, taking off and trying to find you. He had to apologize. He had to talk to you and explain himself. But then, that would mean he had to confess.

Confess. Alastor’s smile widened as he thought of the idea. Blush crept from his face all the way down to his neck and his tail was uncontrollably wagging under his coat.

He loved you.

Turns out, Alastor does, and will do feelings.

-----

“Husker, have you seen her?” After a whole day of looking around the hotel, he couldn’t seem to find you anywhere.

“Her?” He asks, then immediately realising there could only be one her. “I was trying to tell you, boss. The kid.. The kid passed.”

“What?” His smile falters, eyes twitching, but still keeping his composure.

“Some drunk ass dude got hold of an angelic weapon from the last extermination. She was stabbed on her way back from cannibal town.”

The static in his ears were ringing louder by the second. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, it wasn’t supposed to end like this. He was only supposed to get rid of his feelings, not you.

This whole plan backfired. It was a mistake. He kept what he hadn’t wanted, and lost what he desired.

-----

Alastor doesn’t do feelings.

He does, but only for you. He keeps his heart closed in hopes you’re still somewhere out there.

Any other demon who tries to get with him, ultimately gets turned down.

Alastor doesn’t do feelings, no; but he does feelings. He saves the romantic kind for you. The platonic ones, however, are open doors now because of you.

Alastor didn’t do feelings, but he does now — in hopes he gets redeemed and can find you in heaven.

———[ End. ]———

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disneyprincemuke · 10 months ago

Text

get this right * aa23

the thought of proposing to you is one that always comes easy to alex, but what he hadn’t expected is how difficult it is to execute it

pairings: alex albon x fem!reader

warnings: literally nOthing just a buNCH OF CUTE SHIT

notes: YALL i’ve been simping for this man for like weeks but in my head, he’s just such a sweetheart that i can’t imagine him in bad situations and nOW I FINALLY GOT IT

also… i’m really liking these multiple scenario fics… if you guys have any suggestions with stuff you want to see, please feel free to send them in here and this has been in my drafts since october oh my gooooood

(f1 masterlist)

“you’re telling me you already bought the ring?” max raises an eyebrow at alex, completely baffled at the story his friend has chosen to bestow upon them.

to the question, alex nods. his head snaps to george, who then asks, “and you’ve had it for almost a month?”

again, the thai nods. “and you have yet to propose?” lando says his piece, just as shocked as the rest of the table is.

alex can only nod, dropping his head in disappointment. in the middle of their circular table sat a red velvet box. inside it is the ring that alex had very carefully picked out with his sisters and mother.

yet the diamond ring sits comfortably in the box instead of your finger. and so does he amongst his friends while he faces the million dollar questions as to why he’s had the ring and has yet to propose to you.

“are you having second thoughts?” charles speaks up, tilting his head and biting his lips in curiosity.

if the answer were to be a ‘yes’, that would be worrisome. considering alex is one of the more romantic people they all know.

“no,” alex finally speak, putting a firm hand down on the table. he meets all of their eyes and feels the judgement. he sighs. “i’m not having second thoughts. i want to marry (y/n) just as much as i said before.”

george lifts his hands up and throws alex a questioning shrug. “so what’s holding you back then?”

“well…” alex chews on the inside of his cheek. he glances down at the box and scrunches up his nose, recounting the numerous times he has tried to get on one knee for you.

“i’m afraid it’s really not that simple.”

-> 20 days ago

alex glances at the door of your shared apartment then his eyes jump to the clock hanging just above your decorative plant. you should be home any minute.

the living room has been decorated beautifully with the help of his sisters. there is a singular heart helium balloon tied down to the bouquet of roses that sits on the kitchen island.

he’s even dressed up in his best suit to greet you a warm welcome home.

he sinks further into his couch, shaking his leg in anticipation. he runs his thumb over the velvet material of the box.

alex hadn’t been planning on proposing to you so soon, if he were to be honest. but he woke up that morning to empty half of the bed, with a note in your handwriting reminding him how much you love him and that breakfast is on the table.

his heart felt so full and he just knew today is the day.

so he got up and called his sisters up. they decorated the house together. with their help, he at least has the slightest idea of what to say to you.

it would be embarrassing if he was stuttering every 5 seconds thinking of what to say to you next.

it was 15 minutes later that he started to get worried about you. you usually get home from work around the same time whenever he’s in town — give or take about 5 minutes.

as if you’d read his mind, his phone lights up with a text notification from you.

my car died. can you pick me up please?

without another question, he is already typing a response to let you know that he will be on the way. he adds on the fact that he will call a tow truck for you after you send him your location.

when he gets there, he sighs in relief that you’re safe. he’d already known you were stuck in the parking lot of a mcdonald’s, but how can he really know when he’s rarely home?

you’re sitting on the trunk of your car, eating some ice cream with your phone propped up a box of nuggets. you’re fully occupied by a video you’ve put on to accompany yourself during the wait.

“my love, why didn’t you sit in the car where the seat’s more comfortable?” alex asks as he opens the car door.

you turn your head and open your mouth with an answer, but immediately close it when he comes into view. your eyes scan him up and down, slowly gulping the remaining ice cream in your mouth.

you point at him with the spoon of your mcflurry. “why are you dressed all fancy? you were gonna go out, love?”

alex freezes. he hadn’t even thought of changing out of his outfit before coming to get you. now he has to scrape his brain for an excuse to throw you off, without sabotaging the relationship whole.

it’s like a lightbulb goes off in his head. you’ll totally buy the excuse. “i was giving my clothes a test run,” he giggles sheepishly, but hesitantly from the daggers you were shooting at him. “wanted to see what fit and what didn’t.”

he can almost envision the gears turning in your head as you process his lie. he sighs again when you turn away to lock your phone.

he’s a very bad liar. for two people who have been together for as long as you’ve been, it’s very easy to spot all his telltales.

he tries his best not to lie to you. today is when he’s exerting every single ounce of his ability to do so.

“my car battery died. i saw a screw lose when i’d checked,” you explain, gently climbing off the back of your car. you waddle over to him, lips puckered up as he bends down to meet your lips. “i’m sorry to trouble you, love. i’m sure you were enjoying your fashion show.”

he chuckles, pulling you in for a quick hug. “anything for you, my love.” he walks over to where you are and opens the mcdonald’s paper bag. “oh, you bought us dinner?”

“you dinner,” you correct him. you lean slightly into him with a loud and frustrated huff with your arms hanging around him loosely. “i’ve had such a long day at work today. it could really be deemed as the worst day; i just want to go home and relax.”

alex scrambles in his mind, thinking of several ways he can deviate you from the house a little longer. he makes a mental note to text his sister to do a quick cleanup before you make your way home.

he simply refuses to propose to you when you’re in a bad mood. he doesn’t think your answer would change depending on how you currently feel, but it just doesn’t feel right.

alex hums, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you. “what do you say we go to our spot up in the hills and chill for a little bit?”

he watches you in anticipation. if you didn’t agree, he really wouldn’t know what to do at all. there are only so many excuses he can make. and there's only so much time before his sisters can get to the apartment and get cleaning.

“hm, okay." you lean into him and squeeze him in your hug. “anywhere with you is relaxing.”

-> 18 days ago

so alex shall try again in the planned department. he is once again in your shared apartment. there is a singular rose this time with dinner on the table. this time, decorated by himself.

he’s practised in the mirror. what he should say. everything he had planned out a few days ago is forgotten as the nerves are slightly different this time.

he doesn't get nervous often, but whenever it comes to you, it's inevitable that it bothers him. when it first happened, it was a confusing feeling that he spent days pondering what exactly it is.

when george smacked his head and told him, he looked down shyly at the ground and nodded.

he got the same feeling when he asked you to be his girlfriend and met your parents.

his chosen seat is a bar stool this time, and he plays some games on his phone to remain calm and collected. though still a little bit distracted.

his attention is split between the phone in his hands and the door. occasionally, the footsteps in the hallway make his heart stop as he looks up and waits for a lock to click. it's never the door he wants to open.

his game is briefly interrupted, his mother's picture flashing on the screen while his phone buzzes. it's not unusual that she's calling, but it is a bit of a shock since she knows he's planning to propose tonight.

he picks up the call, an explanation as to why he hasn't texted at the tip of his tongue.

“i’m sorry, sweetie,” his mother’s panicked voice comes through the phone. “can you please come over? it’s an emergency.”

that’s all he needed to hear before he was darting all over the apartment. he’s popped the balloon, as there was clearly no need for it tonight, the rose is hiding behind a bunch of folded shirts in his drawer and the velvet red box goes back into the deepest pit of his underwear drawer.

this time, he remembers to change out of his clothes. it’s slightly less put together than before, but it was still an effort.

“alex, love?” the sound of the door opening makes him perk up. your voice bounces through the apartment, followed by the pitter-patter of the cats’ nails against the hardwood floor. “are you home?”

he stumbles out of your bedroom, pulling up his sweatpants. “i need to go over to mum’s.”

you stop dead in your tracks, the door still held open and the key in your hands. clearly, you notice his panic in the way he’s barely even greeted you. you raise your eyebrows and step aside, leaving a gap for him to go through the door.

“i can drive you if you want,” you offer him, watching him jog towards the car keys.

he’s shaking, and it’s noticeable from the way he’s struggling to find his wallet. his wallet that is very clearly sitting above the shoerack in the entryway.

you grab it swiftly and say his name. it makes him stop briefly, turning to you as he held up the couch’s cushion, still in search of his wallet.

you lift up the leather item and then show him your car keys. you nudge your head towards the hallway. “come on, i’ll drive.”

-> 10 days ago

third time's the charm, right? right?

alex sits in his chair, hands fixing his collar, then his hair, picking at the menu, and then the lace table cover.

"hey, love," you say from behind him, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. "i'm sorry i'm late. there was traffic in the parking lot at the office."

"don't worry about it. i just arrived not too long ago." alex gets up to his feet, pulling you in for a tight hug. he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before running over to pull your seat back for you.

you thank him with the squeeze of his arm while you take your seat. you grab the menu and get comfortable in your seat. "have you looked at the menu yet?"

"not yet, i was waiting for you."

he feels like a stalker watching you from across the table. his hand is in his jacket's pocket, rubbing circles over the velvety material once more. when exactly is the right time to ask you?

"how was work?" alex starts, taking the menu into his hands, looking at you shyly as he awaits your response.

"it's alright. nothing out of the ordinary from me," you mutter with a shrug, flashing him a small grin before returning your attention to the menu. "the pasta looks good, don't you think?"

"i saw their salmon dish online - that looked good," alex answers. but he's been on the same page of the menu for a hot minute, his eyes have read the same item so many times that he has its description memorised.

all he can think of is how to transition to popping the question.

"it does look delicious... do you want to share a dessert after too?" you inquire, looking up at him with a huge smile. "i really want the lava cake."

"with vanilla ice cream?"

"of course!"

and you make small talk with him. which almost makes him forget the ring that's in the pocket of his jacket. you talk and he thinks and thinks and tries to find the perfect time to pop the question to you.

until your smile drops and your head angles to the side slightly. your lips part as your eyes move from his, over to the door in pure shock.

"love, what's wrong?" alex follows your moving gaze.

and he also freezes in his seat. it's his ex-girlfriend. the same exact person that you'd mentioned you thought you could never live up to.

all because his mother had slipped up and asked about her over casual conversation over dinner, and because you had noticed that his sisters still kept in constant contact with her.

he watches you, from the corner of his eyes, sink into your seat and drop your head. you press your lips together and give him a small smile. "maybe let's cancel dessert? i'm not very hungry."

-> now

"do you get why it's a little complicated now?" alex groans, throwing his head back. "it's not like i haven't tried."

charles presses his lips together, nodding slightly as he tries to assess the situation for himself. he hasn't proposed to anybody in his life, so what advice does he have to give his friend? "maybe you're overthinking it?"

"yeah," george nods. "maybe you just have to... ask her. just ask her."

"you're aware i'm proposing to her. i'm not just asking some random girl to be my prom date to the dance," alex lays out his situation slowly, scanning his friends' faces carefully.

they're not serious about just asking you without a whole get-up, are they? he never would have asked them if he'd known how minuscule this issue was to them. it's never as simple as just asking you to marry him.

it's an important question.

"actually, i think twiddle dee and twiddle dum have got a point," max smiles, pointing at their two other friends now rolling their eyes. "if it all keeps blowing up in your face when you plan your proposal, maybe you just need to do it when you... get the feeling. you know?"

"no."

"just do it when you're so overwhelmed at the thought of spending the rest of your life with her," george shrugs, taking a sip from his drink. "would help the nerves, and it makes it more genuine."

alex shakes his head. "i don't know. that doesn't make the moment very special, now, does it?"

"just try it, and then let me know."

-> 5 days later

"love!" your excited voice fills the house, prompting alex to lift his head from the armrest of the couch.

he'd been home all day, claiming a rest day from the gym and other press commitments before he had to do it all over again this weekend for another race.

"yes, love?" alex smiles, opening his arms, watching you walk out of the kitchen and excitedly walk over to him. "what's got you so preppy?"

"love, i was outside coming home from work, and i saw the cutest little snail right outside the apartment building," you giggle, dropping your bag by the foot of the couch. you drop yourself into his arms, adjusting yourself to fit the small space that the couch provides you. "i took a picture, look!"

"you took a picture of a snail?"

"yes!" you nod. "its shell looked so beautiful. and i even moved it to the side so that nobody could step on it unknowingly. just so sad when that happens to them."

and then he knows. it hits him, then and there, while you were rambling on about how beautiful this snail's shell is, that this is the moment. this is the moment that max was talking about.

he props his head up with his hand, nodding as you zoom into the picture you'd taken.

"we should get married," alex blurts, unable to hold himself back. the ring is not even with him - it's somewhere in the back of his closet. but it doesn't even seem like a necessary accessory for him at the moment.

"what?" you tilt your head, slowly dropping your hand into your lap. you sit up and look down at him. "alex, what did you say?"

"i have the ring and everything. hold on." alex scrambles to get off his seat, but you shake your head and put a hand over his chest. you pull him back into the couch, maintaining his position next to you with a puzzled stare.

"did you just say what i thought you just said?"

"yes. and i've been trying to propose to you all month," alex sighs, "something always goes wrong: your car broke down, my mum called, then we saw my ex in the restaurant. i tried setting it up, and of course, i ask you when i don't have the ring with me."

he's flailing his arms in the air as he explains his troubles to you, ultimately throwing his hands towards the direction of your bedroom before he slumps his shoulders and looks at you. "i wanted it to be a picture-perfect moment. i wanted it to be everything you dreamt about growing up. remember?"

"so i heard you right? you're asking me to marry you?" you can barely hide the smile growing on your face, eyes tearing up as you grab his hands. "i don't care about the ring. you're asking me to marry you?"

"do you still want to? i couldn't even propose to you right."

"of course, i want to marry you," you giggle, throwing your arms around him. you pepper his cheek with kisses, alex hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist as he leans back onto the couch. "i love you, alex. you just had to ask me the question. i don't care how, where or when you'd say it."

"obviously, i didn't know that until now," alex laughs. he buries his face into your hair, making a mental note to thank max next weekend for the helpful tip.

#alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #aa23 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #f1 fanfic

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hysteria-things · 7 months ago

Text

based off of this

NSFW ALPHABET

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: some of these are inspired by the nate nation anons AND one will be a little teaser for bereal😌

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

gives you the princess treatment! he will specifically tell you to not get up from the bed. thirsty? he’ll grab you a water. hungry? he’ll grab you a snack.

afterwards, you are rewarded with the most amazing cuddles. he’ll lay on top of you and nuzzle into you softly.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

he LOVES when you scratch up and leave hickeys on his torso region, including his back. nate has no issue showing off your marks, even if it’s out in public.

if you’re the sturniolo’s little sister in this scenario, for their sanity and his safety, he’ll cover everything if you guys hang out with them.

in all honesty, he just adores your face. he’ll squish your cheeks every chance he gets, or cup your face every time you guys kiss. the way it contorts in pleasure when he’s fucking you sends him over the edge.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

on rare occasions will cum inside you, but that’s the last resort. oh my god, the way he will always paint your body with his cum.

when you suck his dick, he’ll spurt his cum all over your face. other times, he’ll pull out and either smear it on your ass, chest, or stomach.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

when you’re not around and he’s super horny, he’ll hump his pillow to get off because he doesn’t like touching himself if you’re not there. it’s pathetic how many pairs of the poor boy’s underwear got ruined.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

has maybe one or two bodies before you, but he doesn’t like to count them since they were hookups.

but he 100% knows what he’s doing. he will never disappoint with the way he fucks his girl.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

COWGIRL OR DOGGY. for cowgirl, he wants to see your facial expressions and your tits bouncing right in front of him.

when it comes to doggy, he ain’t stopping. let’s just say, you won’t be able to walk for days…

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

nate’s an extremely goofy person outside the bedroom, but when he’s going to town, he’s as serious as ever. you have a thing for the way he can change how he acts in such a short amount of time.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he got some hair, but tries to maintain it as much as he can. will NOT deal with the itching of it being bald. (he learned his lesson from the last time)

you, on the other hand, are cleanshaven. in the beginning of the relationship, he said he didn’t mind if you had hair or not. however, this was your decision and he’s perfectly fine with it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

will hold you like his life depends on it. face in the crook of your neck while he praises you for how good you take him and how well you’re doing.

like the first time you guys had sex (in his treehouse🥰), you were a virgin. was the gentlest with you and asked if you were okay every three minutes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

the only time it’s acceptable to jack off is if he’s on the phone with you. you will either 1. talk him through it or 2. discuss how your day went.

however, he will purposely edge and overstimulate himself to the point where his eyes start to water and his hand gets cramped. his dick will be swollen and red, leaking pre-cum as he pumps his fist rapidly up and down.

“p-please. please keep talking, baby.”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

a sucker for dacryphilia and hair pulling. something about hearing you sob from pleasure makes him feral. like holy shit he’ll keep going until you beg him to stop and use your safe word.

pounding you from behind, he’ll grip your hair tight, and if you don’t listen to whatever demand he throws at you, he’ll pull it. hard.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

either his/your bed or oddly the floor. i don’t know, it seems like the floor can help him go deeper by how hard and stable it is.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he’s so sensitive that seeing you stand there has him bricked up to the fullest!

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs)

he DESPISES when you call yourself ugly. if you talk bad about yourself, he’ll fuck the daylights out of you until you say that you’re pretty.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving you the best head of your life is his number one priority. nate will eat you out nose deep until you cry, like always, and has no intent of stopping. you’ll cum so many times that you won’t be able to think straight and stars will take over your eyesight.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough. the only time he went slow and sensual is when he took your virginity. bro is the definition of pound town.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

if you guys are out shopping or at a party and he’s bored, he’ll drag you to the bathroom and fuck you fast against the door.

he needs at least something for entertainment.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

barely, but if you come up to him to ask to try something new, he’ll respect your wishes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can be exhausted and will STILL keep going. surprisingly, he’ll do four. nate just loves you and loves dicking you down so much that he doesn’t want it to end.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

to be honest, you guys aren’t a fan of that stuff. he would never admit this, but the thought of you using some toy instead of him will make him feel a little insecure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

likes to have his hands full and will grab your ass no matter what you’re doing. you get all flustered and it makes him tease you even more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

name a sound, and he’s doing it.

whimpering, moaning, groaning, grunting… literally everything. he’ll purposely do it in your ear because he knows that makes your legs shake.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

once, he was railing into you hard when his bereal notification went off. because he turns into a cocky son of a gun when in private, he grabbed his phone off the night stand, lifted your head up from the pillows, and put the camera in your face to take a picture of how fucked out you looked.

the reactions under his post were priceless.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

body wise, short king nate is BUFF and has abs. the magic in his pants is huge.

in his words, he calls it “the nate-a-tron 5000.”

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

wants to fuck you every second on every surface all day.

doesn’t help when you’re bending over and he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, thrusting his clothed boner into your thighs.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

two words: out cold.

one time you for real thought he was dead.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2

#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe fanfic #nate doe smut

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buckys-wintersoldier · 5 months ago

Text

Escape | Bucky Barnes

// Pairing //

-> WinterSoldier!Bucky Barnes x Scientist!Female!Reader

// Summary //

-> Bucky and you use the chance to escape Hydra together.

// Wordcount //

-> 2.278 Words

//Warnings // Teen

-> Fluff, slightly angst, mention of brain washing, one sentence with sexual hint (but nothing really)

// Request //

-> Totally not sending this cause you asked me to :) Could I please request another part to the fantastic WinterSoldier!Bucky Barnes x Hydra!ScientistWorker!Female!Reader work you did? Absolutely no rush tho!! <3 Love you 😍💋 @somnorvos

// Authors Note //

-> Thank you for the request, hope you like it. Love you too, princess.Thank you to @lanabuckybarnes for proofreading, means a lot bbg!

-> Second part of “The Winter Soldier”

// Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist //

You don’t know why but his lips against yours feel so soft and warm. The cold man, the most feared assassin, has the softest lips you have ever felt on your skin. His hands are still on your hips, digging into your soft skin.

Bucky feels so familiar, his lips, his touches, just his presence. You already knew you fell for the super soldier, even though you rarely talked, he never scared you. Maybe because you have always seen the broken soul deep under the surface or his intense cold stare.

When both of you need to catch your breath, you pull away just enough to do so. His forehead rests against yours and he is looking straight into your soul. His blue eyes are so full of emotion, and you have never seen it like that before.

“You know they will wipe me when they find out about this, and they won’t let you work here either. I-I don’t want them to hurt you, but they only need to see the emotions in my eyes and they will-“ he pauses, closing his eyes for a moment.

You feel his shaking breath against your lips. You bring your hands to his neck, caressing it softly. “I know but— there is something only the people who work in the lab know about. Bucky, you have to be the winter soldier for one more time and then we can be free, can you do that?”

With hope shining in his eyes he looks at you, then he nods. He would be the winter soldier when you need him to be, if it means that the two of you can be free together. “What do you have in mind?”

His large hands capture your cheeks and he smiles softly, something you have never seen before but you’re sure you want to see him smile more often. His nose slightly scrunched, his lips curl up while his eyes light up in the most adorable blue you have ever seen.

“When they want to bring you back into your cell I will tell them that you need to stay overnight for a few tests with the super soldier serum. And tonight you need to act like you have to lead me somewhere as the winter soldier,” you explain, pushing him softly back to the chair he sat on when he came into the lab earlier. Bucky nods, a slight shift in his expression shows you that he’s scared but at the same time he trusts you.

“And where are we going? I-I don’t have an apartment or money, I'm living in the cell here,” he mumbles, looking down while he lets himself take a seat on the chair, his hands wander down your body, stopping on your hips.

“I have an apartment, it’s in Romania,” you say, bringing one of your hands up to lift his head. The warm smirk on your lips causes him to smile back and nod once again.

“Sounds like a plan, doll,” Bucky says. He pulls you closer toward him until you’re standing between his spread legs. His head falls down against your belly and he sighs softly. Your heartbeat is calming him down, he knows he has to be the man he never wanted to be, but he won’t be him completely.

When the agents come back into the room, Bucky sits on the chair, staring at them, his expression doesn’t say anything about his feelings. Excitement rushes through his veins, the first time since he felt more like himself, that he could be happy. That he could be loved by someone — someone he can love back, and show affection towards.

“The soldier needs to stay overnight. We need to do some tests with the serum,” you explain to the agents who look at you with just cold gazes. They don’t ask anything further, they knew that someone in lab has to do their work just like they do, so they only nod, talking to one another before one of them turns toward Bucky.

“Солдат, тебе повезло, что ты нужен ей для анализа сыворотки, иначе мы бы тебя вытерли. Так что придется подождать до завтра.(Soldier, you're lucky she needs you to analyze the serum, or we'd have wiped you. So you'll have to wait till tomorrow.)” The agent laughs darkly and you notice the slight shift of Bucky’s expression but just as fast as it came, it's cold once again.

The soldier looks like he doesn’t even care what they say. But deep down, underneath the surface Bucky is gasping, his eyes would be filled with fear of being wiped again, to be just a machine for them.

“Good, then have fun,” one of the agents says, smirking at you, his eyes roaming over your body and you feel a shiver of disgust rushing through you. You push the urge to roll your eyes away and only turn around to pretend like you’re preparing something.

When the men leave the room and close the door behind them Bucky immediately jumps off the chair and causes you to jump too. His blue eyes roam over your body, slightly worried that you hurt yourself. “I’m sorry, I—I really don’t like that chair, it kind of scares me.”

You nod, smiling softly while you push the utensils to the side and make your way to the door, immediately locking it before you make your way to the couch, waiting for Bucky. He stares at the door, shifting from one to the other feet and you can see his blue eyes flicker with an emotion you haven’t seen often on Bucky’s face but he looks scared.

“Bucky?” You ask, waiting for him to look at you and he does, slowly. You see his body tensing even more when his eyes slide through the room and land on you. “Are you ok? Do you want me to unlock the door again?”

He shakes his head, forcing a smile on his lips before he walks closer to you. His legs shaking lightly and even his hands are shaking when he lets himself fall down next to you on the soft couch.

“Are you sure? We can unlock the door when it makes you feel safe?” You assure him but he once again shakes his head. Bucky inhales deeply, his right hand running through his long hair, he then clears his throat and looks at you.

“Isn’t it ironic, I hate locked doors because I can’t escape even though I can’t escape anyway. And a little part of me hopes that someone comes through the door and helps me to escape. The only people walking into the room are agents who want to wipe me,” Bucky sighs, chuckling softly.

“They won’t, we will manage to get out of here and then we go to the apartment in Romania, no one knows us there, we can start there, Bucky,” you tell him. You place one of your hands on his thick thigh and his eyes widen when you touch him so softly like that.

You hesitate if you should remove your hand or let it sit there, but he places his big one on your smaller one and you relax. “Not many people touch you in a soft way, do they?”

“Not really, but—“ he interrupts himself. Bucky’s lips curl up into the sweetest smile you have ever seen. It’s real, you can tell because his nose is scrunched and his eyes light up, the blue looking like the most beautiful ocean when the sun is shining. “I don’t know a ‘but’ they just never touched me softly.”

You nod, thinking about a question to ask him, and when you finally have one you two ask one another a lot of questions, small talk ones but also deep talk, you two chuckle but there are also serious topics and it never feels weird or uncomfortable to talk to him.

When the night comes and most agents are already in their rooms. You get up from the couch you’re still sitting on. You turn to face Bucky, who looks really nervous and you can’t blame him, you’re not much calmer than he is. And he has to pretend to still be the winter soldier, so you smile softly at him and place your hand under his chin to tilt his head back. You lean forward, pressing your lips softly against his, causing Bucky to sigh softly and place his hands on your hips.

“Are you ready?” You ask softly, he nods his head but his eyes tell you everything. He isn’t, how could he, when he just shows a bit of emotion outside this room you both will be in so much trouble. But he wants to be strong, he wants to help you to escape and he wants it too. “It’s fine, one more time being the winter soldier, Buck.”

He nods his head once again, leaning his forehead against yours before he inhales deeply. “Can I kiss you once more?” He asks, his blue eyes looking pleading at you.

“Kiss me, pretty boy,” you giggle. And he does, Bucky presses his warm, plump lips against yours. You’re moving your lips against him, causing him to hum and to pull you even closer. For a moment you both forget everything around you, feeling safe in one another’s embrace.

When you both pull away he makes his way to the door of the room. His expression changed from the soft he used to have all day into the cold one he is used to as winter soldier. You shiver lightly when you see his eyes so stormy with emotions — deep down behind the cold surface — his jaw only clenching and so cold, you wouldn’t know that there are feelings inside of him.

You get some utensils to look more serious and grasp his arm, he is holding it out so he can lead you through the floor. And that’s what you’re doing, he opens the door, his eyes focused on everything in front of you. But his arm holds your back, your grip tightens when you make a step out of the lab you’re in.

Your heart is racing, you’re sure he can hear and feel it but you try to stay as calm as possible. Bucky squeezes your arm with his hand lightly, then he walks further through the floor, slowly so you follow him. Your fingers are digging into his arm, the floor is almost empty but the few men looking at you are enough to let your nervousness grow.

“Soldier!” Someone says next to you and you immediately freeze. You swallow thickly, now they found out and they will brainwash Bucky, they will make him the winter soldier again. Bucky turns his head to the man who is talking to him, gaze cold and not a hint of emotions. “I want to fuck her when you’re finished.”

With a low laugh the man walks away. Your eyes widen when you look after him, Bucky’s expression still as cold as before. You both make your way further through the floor and when you finally see the door out of the base you feel your heart racing more and more.

Bucky turns his head around, looking through the floor when there is no one he smiles softly at you. You both reach the door just a moment later, he opens it and you slip outside, followed by him.

The cold air is surrounding you immediately and a shiver is running down your spine. Bucky grasps your hand, pulling you with him and into the woods as fast as he can.

It’s been a few weeks now, you’re living with Bucky in Romania, after you left the base behind you made your way through the forest until you reached the train station to go to Romania.

Bucky and you really fell for one another with every day making you love him more and more, his nightmares aren’t as bad as they were as long as you’re around and he smiles more often.

“Guess what I got?” He asks with a grin on his lips when he walks into your shared apartment. Bucky holds a paper bag in his hands and you chuckles softly.

"Plums? Maybe you should ask them out on a date,” you joke before you kiss your boyfriend softly. He shakes his head, opening the bag filled with plums but also your favorite fruits. “I love you, Buck. And I have a surprise for you too.”

Bucky wraps one of his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. “I love you too, doll. What’s the surprise? Did you buy a plum tree?”

You shake your head, laughing. Then you hold up a letter and a picture of someone. Bucky’s jaw drops; he almost drops the paper bag too.

“T—That’s Steve!” He mumbles, his eyes scanning the letter and the picture you’re holding in your hand. “H—He wants to visit us? Isn’t he mad that I didn’t recognize him? How did you manage—“

“Shhh. Bucky, let’s take a seat and I will answer all your questions. Or maybe Steve does,” you chuckle, feeling Bucky wrapping his arms even tighter around you while he kisses your neck softly.

“You’re the best, I love you so much, you know that. Do you? So in love with you, gonna make you the mommy of my child’s before Stevie’s here,” he says, almost jumping up and down, you love him, especially when he is excited and happy like that — and even more when you’re the reason for his happiness and joy, because he is yours.

// Taglist //

@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @lives-in-midgard @pono-pura-vida @randomawesomeperson102 @bucky-barnes-lover @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing

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marvelouslizzie · 2 years ago

Text

just let me make you feel better

summary: after a long day of work, you finally come back home and rest. your period is making your day miserable but your boyfriend is here to help you.

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, period comfort, established relationship, pet names, mentions of menstruation pain, a little bit of period stigma, comfort offering, sexual activity during the period, nipple play, clit play, fingering, after care, obviously blood, unrealistic portrayal of male partners, no mention of y/n.

a/n: I just wanted to write a Bucky Barnes offers to comfort you during your period story so here we are. Unfortunately, this kind of care is really rare so I’m sorry for fucking up your expectations about men. Most of them don’t even do the bare minimum. This concept would shock them but don’t settle for anything less.

Thank you @notafunkiller and @es1dit for beta-reading and helping me better this story. Love you both!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me or send me a question regarding the stories I write. I would love to talk about it and no, it would never bother me.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

God, you can’t wait for this day to be over. It’s not the worst day of your life, you know it, but still, the freaking pain just doesn’t want to go away. At least, not completely. It finds different ways to crawl back to you and keep you suffering.

You tried a lot of stuff, starting with good old painkillers. There’s no denying that the pill is helping you, but it’s just not good enough. Your back is hurting, joints are feeling sore and there’s still a headache on the back of your head that no matter how many painkillers you take, keeps lingering and torturing you. Like bleeding isn’t enough.

Yeah, being on your period and working at the same time is no fun. It’s not even bearable. Still, you make it through the day and come back just to drop on the couch. You really want to get rid of these clothes, take a hot shower and change into something comfortable, but you just don’t have the energy. Mentally, you are already doing all this stuff, imagining how good it would feel to stand under the hot water and just let it relax your muscles. Yet your legs don't want to move. You just lay on the couch like a bag of potatoes.

As you drift between sleep and being awake, you hear the keys jingling, signaling that your boyfriend is home. Is it weird that you can already smell him while he’s standing across the room? You have no idea but you can. It just feels like something… familiar. You have no idea how it works, but it makes you feel safe even though he did nothing but step into the apartment.

“Darling?” Bucky calls out because he isn’t used to not being greeted by you when he comes home. Usually, you are either going toward him or yelling “Welcome home, baby” from wherever you are.

You can’t find the strength to call out so you groan a little while raising your hand. God, his expression changes so quickly. He walks towards you at a trot.

“Are you alright?”

“I am.” You are just exhausted, nothing out of the ordinary. Especially not at this time of the month.

“Are you sure? You don’t look alright.”

“It’s that time of the month again.” The worried expression on his face slowly fades away when he notices you are actually alright. It makes you wonder what he thought happened to you, but you don't ask him.

“Oh, darling…” His voice is so caring. Your period completely saps you of your energy and he knows it. He knows how you suffer or what you do to make yourself feel better. “Did you take a painkiller?”

“Yes.” Of course, you did. That was the first thing you thought of.

“When?”

You stop for a second to think. “In the morning and after lunch.”

“So you can take another one now, right?”

That’s a good question. You can take another pill, but your stomach is already protesting at that thought. You should eat something before taking it, but you don’t feel like cooking. Even the thought is exhausting.

“But first you will need food.” God, is he reading your mind or what?

“I don’t feel like–” Before you can finish your sentence, he’s already standing up and making his way to the kitchen.

“I will prepare something for you.” When your words register, he turns around and looks at you. “You don’t wanna eat anything?”

“No, no. I was going to say I don’t feel like preparing anything.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” He turns around. “Don’t worry. I will make your favorite.”

You have yet to learn what he means by that because you have many favorites. A meal, sandwich, snack, or dessert? You find out what he means when he comes back with your favorite sandwich, a glass of water, and the painkiller you use only during your period. You love him for paying enough attention to notice that.

“Eat while I draw a bath for you. Warm water should help.”

Why didn’t you think about filling the tub and just sitting there? The thought of laying there for a while sounds so much more appealing than a quick shower. It doesn’t take long for you to finish the whole sandwich and take the pill. Your stomach isn’t protesting anymore, and neither are your taste buds. Still, the pain and that discomfort are there, lingering and making you regret being born. Men don’t have to suffer like this and it’s so unfair! You hate mankind for that privilege. While you are lost in your thoughts, Bucky comes out of the bathroom and you notice: No, you don’t hate the whole of mankind. There’s one exception. You can’t hate Bucky when he’s the most thoughtful person you've ever met.

“The bathtub is ready for you. Did you finish your sandwich?” He kind of sounds like a teacher or a parent, checking if you did everything you were supposed to.

“Yep, all done.” You gesture to the plate. “Took the painkiller, too.”

“Good job, doll.” He comes closer without taking his eyes off of you. “Wanna head to the bathroom now?”

“Yes, but I need to take some clothes with me first.”

“Don’t worry, I will take care of it. Just get in there and relax, okay?”

You just nod with a small smile on your lips. When he takes care of you like this, you feel so lucky and so seen. You never asked him to do any of this stuff for you. Occasionally, you just said “I don’t feel like cooking” thinking you would order take out or you asked for a painkiller, but he registered all that information and started to do things without you asking. Seeing how he paid attention and cared about you just makes you feel valued.

You have no idea how long you have been laying in the bathtub. It was nearly perfect with the bubbles and the scent. You expected him to show up and tell you what to do next, but that did not happen. After a while, you decide to properly clean yourself and drain the bathtub. That’s when you notice he put your towels to warm on the radiator, which instantly makes you smile. You wrap your hair with one and dry your body with the other. Thinking you might bleed around, you quickly leave the bedroom to find your clothes.

While you are thinking if you should go for a pad or a tampon, you find your missing boyfriend in your bedroom. Your clothes are already chosen and set aside, your favorite pajamas waiting for you.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“A little better. The painkiller started to work its magic.” You walk towards your clothes to put them on as quickly as possible, still thinking about the blood.

Bucky quickly gets in your way. “No need to rush.”

“No, no, I really need to rush.” He gives you a look that makes you think he's confused. “I don’t have a tampon on. I will bleed on the floor.”

“And?” His tone is so carefree, it confuses you.

“And we will have to clean it, Bucky.” You state the obvious.

“Then we will clean it.” He makes things sound so natural, so casual. Like it’s the most normal thing on earth, but you are conditioned to think that you shouldn’t bleed around, that you should take care of any mess you make.

“You don’t wanna see that.”

“Maybe I do.” His answer comes instantly, surprising you.

“Believe me, you don’t.” You make a move in the direction of your clothes, but Bucky doesn’t let you.

“Bucky!”

“Darling, I have been fighting for god knows how long. Do you think your period blood would disturb me?” His question sounds so genuine, you stop to think for a second. He has a point, but not really. It's a different kind of blood.

“I mean it’s not the same, is it?”

“Yeah, it’s not.” The confirmation you expect finally comes. “I’m used to seeing blood caused by violence, not by nature.”

Wait, what?

You don’t know how to react to this. Of course, it is natural, but it is also torture and it makes a mess every time. A huge mess. Usually, your exes were disturbed by the idea, keeping a respectful distance while you were on your period, but apparently not Bucky. His fingers were already grazing your skin carefully. He looks into your eyes, asking for permission silently.

“I really don’t feel like it, Bucky.” You hate saying no to him, but the pain is still there. You are sure it will make things uncomfortable.

“I’m just asking for permission to touch you, doll. I’m not asking for anything else.” He keeps confusing you tonight.

“What do you mean?”

“Just let me make you feel better.” His answer is simple, but not enough for you to understand his meaning. What does he mean by that?

“I think having you there now isn’t a great idea, Buck. I’m in pain and a little bit too sensitive.” You try to explain as simply as possible.

��Darling… There are other ways to make you feel better, or did you forget about those? Maybe I should remind you, huh?” Gosh, the smug smile creeping up his lips… It sends shivers down your spine. “Just lay down.” He gestures to the bed.

“I will blee–”

“Shh…” He doesn’t let you finish. “Just be a good girl and stop thinking too much.”

For fuck's sake… A good girl? He definitely knows how to shut your brain up. You slowly sit down on the bed and notice a big towel under you. He already thought about everything, so you won’t have to worry. So you can just enjoy this. If that’s what he wants, you can do that. You can shut your mind for a short while and try to enjoy yourself.

As he lies down next to you, he turns his entire body in your direction and props himself up on his elbow. His flesh fingers start to caress your skin very lightly, making their way to the towel you wrapped around your body.

“It is time to…” His fingers work quickly to undo the towel. “...take this off.”

He sounds somehow impatient. Maybe just to see you naked or hear the sounds you make while he touches you all the ways he knows you love. His fingers move to your nipple, fingertips grazing over carefully. As he touches you so lightly, another wave of goosebumps washes over you. It's not normal for you to be this sensitive, but your nipples are already hard. Your lips tremble as he moves closer and gives one a long lick.

“God, damn it.” You mutter and he instantly looks up.

“Should I stop?” The way he asks the question shows how concerned and focused he is.

“No, no.” You take a deep breath. “Just be gentle. I’m just…”

“Sensitive, I know.” He smiles and dives back in. His tongue swirls around your nipple over and over again until you start to cry out.

“Fuck!” That’s so unexpected. The pleasure you are feeling is foreign. Nipple play never felt like this before. “It feels so– so good.”

He moves his mouth away with a wet pop just to say: “Yes, surrender yourself to the feeling, darling.” Then he goes back to sucking your nipple, while his metal hand is massaging your other breast. It’s such an amazing change after feeling pain for hours and you can’t help but crave more. Your hips are rising unintentionally. Bucky’s flesh hand moves down to your body, sliding between your folds really carefully, but it makes you push your hips up again.

You've never felt this wet in your life. You are sure your period has a lot to do with it, but god… That’s not the only reason. The way he’s paying attention to your breasts, the way his index finger is working between your folds… It feels like magic. His fingers start rubbing on your clit and the next thing you know you're moaning his name over and over again. Whenever you moan, his tongue becomes more relentless around your nipple. The pleasure hits you suddenly, it takes your breath away.

“Buck–” Your back arches like a bow. “Oh my go–”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second. His fingers and tongue work you through your orgasm until you start to feel a little sensitive. You let a long breath out, proving how satisfied you feel.

Finally, he lets go of your nipple and looks up. Hair messed up, lips swollen and eyes glossy. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.” You breathe out again and it makes him smile widely. So fucking widely… “I feel great.” His hand rests on your pussy while his head is on your upper body. You lean down a little and he meets you in the middle in a messy kiss. God, his lips are the most delicious thing you've ever tasted. They're nearly sweet and just intoxicating.

You sigh loudly, feeling so much better than before. The pain is the last thing on your mind. You actually think about a possible second orgasm already and a little smile creeps up on your lips.

“What?” He asks wondering what you are thinking.

“I think I want a bit more.”

“Oh, you do?” He is fully smirking now. You just nod while biting one side of your lower lip. “Would it be okay if I put my fingers inside? Would that be comfortable for you?”

“I hope so. We can try and if it’s uncomfortable, I'll tell you.”

“What a good girl you are.”

Before you can say anything in return, his fingers move a little down and he pushes one of them inside.

“Bucky!” The sudden pleasure catches you off guard.

“Sorry, sorry. I will go slow.” He moves himself a little bit up, just to be able to kiss you comfortably. You look at him and excitement is written all over his face. He’s actually enjoying this even though he isn’t getting off himself, and you love how your pleasure affects him. Licking your lips, you close the little distance between you two.

He kisses you deeply while moving his finger in and out. He’s using just one, but dear god… you are so sensitive. It feels so good even though you aren’t completely filled. Slowly, he pushes the second finger inside, crooking them and rubbing them along a spot where you can see stars. Your mouth suddenly opens as you let out a loud moan. You are unable to kiss him back, it feels like your whole body just tensed up and your muscles stopped working.

“Yes! God, yes.” You manage to say while he keeps on working. “Just like that.”

“Don’t worry, doll.” He speeds up a little. “I won’t stop.”

He keeps working his fingers while kissing your neck. You can feel your second orgasm approaching and it feels so good, but also not enough.

“Please…” You beg without thinking. “Please…”

“Tell me what you want.” His voice sounds so deep, so full of desire.

“Faster. A little faster.” You take a deep breath. “I’m so– close.”

He doesn’t make you ask twice, just starting to move his fingers a little faster and that’s all it takes.

“Bucky!” You scream so loudly that it surprises even you, but it’s too late to bite your lip. The overwhelming pleasure takes over, making you scream so loudly that Bucky thinks all your neighbors know what you are up to. And he doesn’t care. They should know he is the one making you feel this good. He is the one who makes you forget about your pain and mindlessly moan his name like a prayer.

When you come down from your high, you feel boneless. It’s like your whole body relaxed after the blinding pleasure. Maybe it’s the mixture of the orgasms and the painkiller you took, but you are too tired to care.

While you stretch your arms, you notice Bucky isn’t next to you anymore. You look around to see where he went and he comes out of the bathroom with another towel in his hand.

“Looking for me?” God, his smile is so smug, but you can’t blame him. The way you just screamed his name without having his cock inside you… That must have boosted his ego. Rightfully so. His fingers are magical. And his tongue. Also his lips. The way he turns you on so much and pulls this pleasure out of you is unbelievable.

“Yes. Why did you leave me?” You know he didn’t but you like to play.

“Just got a wet towel for you.” He kneels in front of the bed, between your legs and you prop up on your elbows to see what he’s doing. He gently moves the towel on your thighs and wipes the blood he smeared while making you scream his name.

“I could clean myself. You didn’t have to.”

“I know you can, doll. Nobody said you can’t.” He rubs the towel against your slit and you jump a little, feeling sensitive. He notices your reaction and tries to do it more carefully. “I just want to help you.” After he’s done wiping, he folds the towel and puts it away. Immediately after, he grabs your clothes and helps you get dressed: your underwear first (and no, he did not forget about the pads), then your pajamas. In a couple of seconds, you're clean and all dressed up. “Now it’s time to rest.”

You move backward and get under the covers while watching him collect the towels all over the room and put them in the dirty laundry bin. It amazes you how he doesn’t forget about anything. He doesn’t let any small detail bother or worry you. You hear him washing his hands and he comes back with a smile on his face.

You don’t know how you got this lucky. Having a loving and caring boyfriend like him… Getting taken care of like this… You remember how your friends talk about their boyfriends and how they do absolutely nothing. You know that’s not how a relationship should be, but you also know how rare this is. Your eyes wander back to him while he is getting undressed, showing you how incredibly hard he is. Yet he didn’t even make a move to relieve himself. He didn’t ask for a hand or begged to be inside you like he does sometimes. He put you first and unfortunately that’s even rarer.

He quickly puts on his pajamas and slips right next to you in bed. His arms are already around your waist, pulling you closer. You carefully move your hand down and palm his still rock-hard erection.

“Nope.” His answer is simple yet firm.

“Let me take care of you, Bucky.” You try to say as sweetly as possible. You want to return the favor.

“Not tonight, darling.” He gently moves your hand away. “But I promise, you can do whatever you want to me when you feel better, alright?”

“Alright.” He’s right. You are feeling sleepy already, you can do this another time.

After all, you are his and he is yours. You have all the time in the world.

He pulls you even closer, putting his head on your shoulder behind your back.

“It’s time to sleep.”

“I love you Bucky.” You say while feeling the weight on your eyelids. It’s hard to keep them open.

“I love you too, darling.”

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wonustars · 4 months ago

Text

Rain or Shine Cafe (Teaser)

Ⱄ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader Ⱄ wordcount: ~10k or less (this teaser: 2.6k) Ⱄ genre: fluff, cafe coworkers au, suggestive

Ⱄ reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

Ⱄ summary: with no umbrella in hand on a rainy day, you felt like your life couldn’t get any worse. losing your glasses while it’s pouring cats and dogs, well maybe your life really was the worst. thankfully a faceless stranger was there to pick up your glasses and hand you his umbrella. you weren’t able to ever thank him for his act of kindness, but the sweet memory stays with you for awhile. soonyoung was in need of a new job and on the first day of his interview he stumbles across a blind stranger with no umbrella, and no glasses. he didn’t think too much about the stranger then, not until his first day of work at Rain or Shine Cafe.

Ⱄ tags/warnings: cafe coworkers!soonyoung and reader, dancer!soonyoung, reader wears glasses, set in vancouver canada, they develop feelings quickly, reader is a little type a, mentions of other svt members, mentions of alcohol, hoshi tiger agenda is very present (more tags when the actual fic is posted)

Ⱄ note: this is a teaser for my fic for the @svthub world tour collab!! thank you to the admins who are sosoosoooo creative because i love this concept sm!! i hope you all look forward to this fic because i adore their little love story sm ♡. if you want to be tagged when the fic is posted please leave a comment or send me an ask! (ps: teaser is not that edited so sorry in advanced) - see you soonest, anna ♡.

Today was one of those days. The birds don’t sing at your wake, the sun doesn’t shine as bright. You weren’t sure what had been the catalyst to such a terrible day; maybe it was forgetting your umbrella, or losing your glasses under the gloomy sky, or the rain that pitter-pattered against the pavement and mocked your misfortune.

It wasn’t until a faceless stranger entered your blurred field of vision, offering their umbrella and picking up your glasses. Before you could even thank them for their help, they whisked away so quickly it was like they were a figment of your imagination.

That small kind gesture had stuck with you for days, wondering if you would ever be able to meet them again. You desperately wished you were able to see what they looked like, but from the softness of their voice, to their gentle touch, you had a feeling that their personality is just the same.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Working a shift at Rain or Shine Cafe is always the highlight of your day, especially after spending so many hectic hours at your university. The cafe was always serene, the customers were kind, and you liked how calming it would get once the Vancouver rain started to pour in. The droplets hitting the glass windows in a rhythmic pattern that could probably put you to sleep if you allow.

Rain or shine cafe was like your little safe haven from the busy city and university town. Working the evenings while your boss, Seokmin, would cover the mornings. It definitely was a little bit complicated with only the two of you, but you didn’t mind. You liked being the only person during your shift, it meant that you were practically your own boss.

It wasn’t until the day that Seokmin decided it was time for a new hire, your safe space seemingly turned upside down.

“Y/n, I’ve hired a new person, you’ll have to train them okay?” Seokmin informs you the moment you clock in.

Giving him a defeated sigh, you knew it was time for a new coworker to join you. Although you hate the idea, you felt bad at how hard Seokmin works in the mornings, and on the rare occasions when you’re sick, evenings as well.

“I don’t know Seokmin… are you sure I should be the one training them?” your tone wavers, if anything the owner would be able to do a better job than you at the training the new hire.

“What! You’ll do great, you’re my best employee after all,” he gives you a reassuring pat on your shoulder.

With furrowed brows, your eyes bore holes into his back as he heads back to his office.

“I’m your only employee!” you shout back while he can still hear you.

The idea of having to train a new person after spending so much time finding your own rhythm while working at the cafe doesn’t particularly thrill you. With many many prayers to the universe, you just hope they aren’t a pain in the ass to deal with.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Soonyoung wasn’t sure what to expect on his first day, and he was especially nervous because he’s never worked at a cafe before. Although his coordination is great when it comes to dancing, he isn’t so confident in his coffee making skills.

The moment he walked through the door, he saw your face shining against the afternoon sun, his heart beating so fast he thought he might have to go to the doctor for a serious case of heart palpitations. He can’t help but curse at himself silently, knowing that he was going to be extra nervous because of his extremely pretty coworker.

As he approaches you he starts to feel a sense of familiarity bubbling at the bottom of his stomach. Wondering if he’s seen you around before, but he quickly scratches that idea knowing that there's millions of people living in the Greater Vancouver area.

Clearing his throat he tries to get your attention as you delicately refill the pastry shelf with almond croissants and bagels. Your eyes turn towards the figure in front of the counter, assuming it’s another student from the university wanting to order.

“U-uh hi,” Soonyoung blurts out, his pillowy cheeks turning red under your gaze.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” you ask him, trying to ignore the awkwardness between you two.

“Oh! I-I’m not here to order, I’m the new hire?” He tries to explain, but you can tell he feels a little unsure about being here at the cafe.

“Oh. Soonyoung right?”

“Yeah, that’s me, but uh- you can call me Hoshi,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

The words ‘play it cool’ keep repeating in his mind as he continues to talk to you, not wanting to make a bad first impression with his gorgeous new coworker.

“Ah, I see, Hoshi,” you say apprehensively while nodding your head, yeah i’m not calling him that, you think to yourself.

Seokmin told you that the new hire would be coming in for his first shift today, but he didn’t mention anything other than that.

From first glance Soonyoung wasn’t the type of person you expected Seokmin to hire. His dark clothing, bright blond hair and piercings along his ears didn’t scream “barista”. The aura around him screamed men’s fashion influencer just from the way he dresses. Although his clothes were casual you could tell there was still thought put into his outfit, from the baggy dark wash jeans to his graphic tee and earrings.

“How about you come around the counter and clock in so we can get started,” you add as you finish placing the pastries into the display shelf.

Scratching the back of his head he walks over only to hover behind you, a meek expression washes over his face.

You turn to him with a quizzical eyebrow, not sure as to why he’s just standing there like a lost child in a supermarket.

“H-how exactly do you clock in?” Soonyoung mumbles while twiddling his thumbs.

“Seokmin didn’t show you where to clock in?” You question him.

There was a part of you that has a feeling that you might have to teach him every little thing around the cafe. When Seokmin told you the new hire was coming in today, you were hoping that they would at least have a little bit of background knowledge.

“U-uh no he pretty much hired me on the spot and told me to come in today,” he mutters, feeling a little embarrassed by your judgement, “this is actually my first job ever.”

“Ever?”

“Yeah, so I’m not sure why he even hired me, but I needed a job so I didn’t turn it down,” he continues, the blush on his soft cheeks becoming more apparent.

You sigh deeply, this shift is going to feel a lot longer than you initially thought. Knowing it’s his first job means that you’ll have to train him a little slower. As you walk to show him where to clock in you silently pray that he’s a fast learner.

Soonyoung can tell that you��re not excited to train him, and he feels bad that he doesn’t have the experience to be good at his job right away. But he’s determined to learn quickly, not wanting to disappoint you or Seokmin.

He spent most of his time in university being able to pay for his expenses from his dance scholarship and the little money he was given from his parents, but unfortunately it wasn’t enough to fund his trip for him and his dance troupe’s upcoming competition.

They had entered a national competition taking place in Seattle and although the commute is only a two hour road trip, there were so many other fees that he couldn’t afford unless he found a way to earn money. Plus if he wanted to fund both his dance trip and tiger collection, it was either he get a job near his school or he would have to resort to selling feet pics online. But getting a job at the cafe seemed like the safer and more logical option.

“Well now that you’ve clocked in, this is your apron and the tag that Seokmin made you,” you inform him while handing him his things.

Soonyoung doesn’t say a word, only nodding while listening to you explain how everything works at the cafe.

“First we need you to learn all the drinks that we serve,” you explain, pushing the double doors that lead back to the main room of the building.

“Okay, I can do that, it can’t be that hard right?” Hoshi shrugs, trying his best to act nonchalant to mask his nervousness.

…

“Wait-No! That’s wrong,” your voice raises in panic as you watch Soonyoung put a fresh shot of espresso into the plastic to-go cup.

Freezing, his eyes go wide as his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape as you start to scramble with panic. The plastic starting to shrivel from the heat of the coffee.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would melt!” he exclaims, pouring the contents into the sink.

It had been an hour of teaching Soonyoung how to make the drinks that were on the cafe menu, and he had somehow made a mistake every single step of the way. Thankfully today is a slower day in the cafe, allowing Soonyoung to observe your routine on serving customers.

“It’s fine, how about we take a break and I'll show you how to use the oven to heat the pastries,” you sigh with defeat.

Soonyoung’s face drops a little because he knows that he’s disappointed you. He wishes that he was good at his job the same way he is with dancing but his naturally good coordination and reflexes can only take him so far.

“If a customer asks for a pastry they can have the option for them to be toasted in the oven, you just need to use the tongs and place them onto the rack,” you explain, demonstrating the steps that you would usually take, “then you don’t want to set the timer for more than twenty seconds or it’ll burn.”

Soonyoung nods along, trying to follow your instructions closely, but he can’t help get distracted by your features. Your hair tied up, glasses perched on your nose as you try to concentrate. He knows that it’s important to pay attention but he can’t help but feel attracted to you. There was a certain familiarity to you that he couldn’t seem to pinpoint. He hasn’t felt like this about someone he just met ever, and it’s not helping that you’re the one teaching him how to do his job properly.

If he could stare at you during his whole shift instead of actually working, he would.

“Does everything make sense so far?” you pull him out of his thoughts, staring at him expectantly.

“Yeah, the pastry stuff seems like the most simple thing so far,” he comments, watching you put the croissant into a bag to eat after you’re off work.

“How about we go back to making more test drinks? Just so you can get the hang of it,” you offer, wanting him to get more practice just in case it’s a busy day the next time he comes in for a shift.

“Sure, you’re a great teacher by the way, I’m just new to all this,” he comforts you.

“Thanks, and don’t worry too much, you’ll get better with time,” you pat his shoulder.

You give him a smile of gratitude. The past few hours had you doubting your knowledge, patience, and teaching skills all at the same time. But his words of reassurance make you feel him warm inside.

The way Soonyoung’s cheeks puff as he smiles makes you giggle. There was something about his soft features that makes him so endearing, which makes you feel a little bad for raising your voice at him earlier while he was trying to learn.

Sure, he’s not the smartest when it comes to working at a cafe, but you have faith that he’ll be able to learn as time goes by. From the looks of it, Soonyoung seems determined to do better, that or he’s faking it. Either way, you owe it to Seokmin to show him everything you know.

Ⱄ a/n: i hope you enjoyed the teaser!! lmk what you think :)

#soonyoung #hoshi #seventeen #svthub #hoshi fic #soonyoung fic #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt smut #svt x reader #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #seventeen fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Bad Guy 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can't seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: I'm going to a physio today for the first time.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is quiet as you come out of your room. The single floor is just enough room for you and your mom. You’ve never needed much else and all your life, you’ve made do with what you have. It’s just the way it is.

You stretch your arms and arch your spine as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. You yawn. You fell asleep reading outdated discussions about your most recent syndicated obsession. You should know better by now, that thorn in your neck is only driving deeper.

You bend at the elbows to rub your neck and drag your feet over the cold tile. Your nipple poke rigidly against your cropped tank top and goosebumps raze up your bare thighs. You open the fridge and pull out the bottle of orange juice, your panties riding up with your movement.

Before you can stand straight, a sharp strikes snaps against your ass and radiates through your flesh. You yipe and grip the bottle by the neck as you jump and turn to face the culprit. The strange man stares back, his brows twitching.

“Mm, you’re not Gail,” he mutters.

“No, I’m not,” you press the juice to your chest, overly aware of your barely covered body.

You don’t ask who he is. You stopped doing that in middle school. She’s another one of her ‘callers’. You don’t usually see them more than once, if at all. Most leave before you’re awake.

“Was takin’ a piss, heard you skittering around, thought...” he trails off into a shrug.

He’s shirtless too. He only wears a pair of briefs as he stands shameless before you. A dark tattoo covers half his chest and extends around his shoulder and down his arm. It’s the typical snake and skull aesthetic sported by men like him.

“Nope,” you reach for the fridge door and step to the side as you close it.

He doesn’t move. You go to dip around him and he moves with you.

“Taking all that with you?” He points at the bottle. You look down and sigh. You push it towards him. “Here.”

He puts his hand under it and you let go. You skirt around his other side and squeeze through the door behind him. You don’t look back as you flee to your room. You resist the urge to reach back and cover the bottom of your ass, not wanting to draw attention to it if he is watching.

You shut your bedroom door and cringe. Great. You can’t really complain. Your mother hasn’t kicked you out. Yet. Not like half your friends’ parents. She just asks for half the rent and you can manage that. With the rent around here, you’d be on the street otherwise.

You cross the room and flop on the bed. You pull out your phone and go back to scrolling the old discussion boards. It’s funny. The more recent posts are totally contrary to the ones when the show aired. You’re not sure who you agree with.

You roll onto your back and drop your phone to the mattress. You have to work at noon. So much for a relaxing morning. You’ll just be hiding in your room until that man leaves.

A knock jerks you up and you roll your eyes. You search the floor and pull on the wrinkly pajama bottoms. You go to the door and crack it open an inch. It’s him.

“Uh, hi?” You utter dully.

“Got you a glass,” he offers one of the cups in his hands. You squint at it then look him in the face.

“Thanks?” You go to take it but he doesn’t let go as you wrap your fingers around the cold glass.

“There a problem?” He asks.

“Uh, no,” you scrunch your nose. “I said thanks.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

You let go of the glass and retract your hand. His eyes flick down and yours do too. The white tank does little for your modesty. You cross your arms.

“Okay? Well, never mind,” you go to close the door and he steps forward, digging his elbow into the wood as he blocks you with his body.

“Your mom said you’re a nice girl,” he looks you up and down again. “Coulda fooled me walking around like that.”

You frown. It’s your house. Why should you worry about what you’re wearing? Besides, if you knew he was there, then you wouldn’t wander around in your panties.

“Thanks for the orange juice but you should just give it to my mom. That’s why you’re here,” you shrug.

He scoffs. “Got a smart mouth.”

“No, I—I didn’t do anything.”

“There you go again. Disrespectful.”

“Huh?” You shake your head in confusion.

“That way you talk. Low and flat, like you don’t give a fuck. Maybe you don’t. Would explain why you’re grown living in your mommy’s house,” he mockingly pouts.

You blink, “you don’t know me.”

“I know girls like you. Pretending like they don’t care. You care. We both know you do.” He moves a glass closer, “say thank you. Like you mean it.”

“I don’t want it,” you insist.

“Don’t want to waste it. Was it you or mommy who paid for the bottle?” He taunts.

You grit your teeth. What is his problem? Why won’t he just leave you alone?

You deflate. You really just want him to go. You look at the ceiling then back to him. He’s the kind of man you would avoid on the street. His blue eyes are as cold as ice and his hair is shaved, but a little longer on top, and he sports a goatee amid the short stubble on his jaw and cheeks.

“Thank you,” you reach for the glass again.

“Thank you, sir,” his voice grizzles as he corrects you.

You steel yourself and your lips slant. You really just want him to tell him to fuck off but like you always do, you don’t say what you think. You keep it inside. Put on that face that keeps you safe.

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat after him.

“Now smile,” he demands.

You flinch and look away. You take a breath. That’s you’re least favourite, when they tell you to smile. It happens often at your job and it always sours your day.

You force a smile.

“Come on, you can do better,” he snickers.

Your cheeks tremble and your smile falls. You tuck your chin down.

“Can you please just leave me alone?” You mumble.

“Excuse me, girl? I can’t hear you.”

“I said...” your throat locks up and your eyes singe. God! When you get angry, you don’t get bold, you just get teary. You hate it. “I said ‘thank you, sir’.”

You grab the glass so abruptly that it sloshes over the side. You don’t stop, you just spin and throw your weight against the door. He lets it close and it slams. You spill most of the juice down your front.

You hear the friction of his fingers dragging down the wood. It sends a chill through you. You slowly pull away and put the glass down, juice dripping down your arms and chest.

He’ll be gone soon, just like the rest.

💀

Your mom’s still asleep when you leave for work. As you sneak out of your room, you listen for any sign of life. If the man’s there, he doesn’t make himself known. You step into your shoes and leave through the front door without looking back.

You head down the street with your earbuds in, a podcast about an old show you watched in high school droning on, as you take the shortcut behind the house at the end of the street. It’s almost four blocks to work but you save money on bus fare. You try to only waste the change after dark.

The ice cream shop is never very busy outside of the post-soccer game crowds. You take your vigil behind the cold counter and bob along with the radio station’s Top 10 countdown. Miley leans in the corner by the till as she chews gum and scrolls through her phone.

You’re fidgety to do the same, but you hate just letting your eyes glaze over. You pace a bit back and forth until her shift is up. When she’s gone, you feel a little less on edge. You always prefer being alone, you don’t have to worry about performing.

Customers come and go. You greet them with the usual ‘how can I help?’ You’ve never been very good at the customer service part but you’re not rude. You just do your job, which it to scoop ice cream and toss some sprinkles around.

You’re entitled to one cone a shift. You rarely have it. You don’t need the extra sugar or the brain freeze. That day, as you close up, the chocolate peanut butter entices you to go outside your routine. You put the lids on all the canisters except for that flavour and do yourself up a waffle cone before you lock up.

You lick the softening cream and turn to face the dark plaza, lit only by the overhead marquee. There’s a car idling just by the curb. You ignore it. A few neighbouring businesses close up around the same time.

The engine revs, and it jolts forward. The horn nearly has you throwing your cone. You fall back into step and keep walking. The Trans Am continues to follow you and honks again. The window rolls down as someone whistles. Only your name stops you.

You turn and bend to see through the window. What the heck? It’s him. The man that invaded your house and threatened you over orange juice.

You exhale through your nose and stand up. You turn down the pavement and keep going. The bus will be there any moment.

“Hey,” he barks, “get back here.”

You keep going. Why is he there? Because of the orange juice?

The car door opens and closes. You speed up as you hear him following you.

“Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he says.

You snort, “sure she did.”

“Really,” he says as his footsteps echo yours.

“She doesn’t even know when I work,” you keep going and he catches your arm, yanking you back.

You spin to face him and yelp. Your scoop shifts precariously in the cone. You try to pull away but not too hard as you selfishly want to keep your treat intact.

“Alright. I offered. I heard you leave. Figured you could use a lift.” He squeezes and you whimper. “I can be a nice guy.”

Can be.

You wince and flutter your lashes, “can you let me go... please?”

He opens his fingers sharply and lifts his hand, showing his palm. “Since you said please...”

You look over your shoulder then back at him. Finally, you glance at your cone. You weigh your options. You’re not a quick runner.

“I appreciate the ride but--”

“I appreciate the ride, sir. Like I said, I can be nice, but respect is earned, girl.”

You swallow tightly, cheeks pinching.

“Sir, I appreciate the ride but I have money for the bus--”

He clucks and points over your shoulder, “that bus?”

You turn and watch the headlights blow by the stop. You flick your eyes to the sky and face him again. “Mmhmm.””

“So, is that a ‘thank you, sir’ on your lips?” He challenges.

You slant your lips back and forth. You fight back a wave of hot frustration. You’re used to feeling powerless but he is suffocating. You nod.

“Thank you, sir,” you choke out.

“See, not that hard to be a good girl.”

He waits until you move. You head back towards his car, and he gets in the driver side. As you claim the passenger seat, he huffs. He looks at you as you try not to acknowledge him.

“Don’t like food in the car. Try not to get it all over,” he snarls.

“I can--”

“Just be careful,” he snips.

Just be quiet, you tell yourself. You pull the seatbelt down and stare through the windshield. You lick around the cone as the cream threatens to melt onto your fingers. The car idles and you glance over. He watches your tongue as you lap up the trickle.

You sit back as his eyes cling to your lips. He lifts his chin and turns straight. He grips the wheel and cranks the volume on the stereo. He speeds off and you struggle to keep from doing just what he warned you not to. You’d tell him to slow down but not only will he not listen, but the sooner you’re home, the better.

#destroyer chris #destroyer #chris x reader #series #bad guy #dark!destroyer!chris #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au

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