#and instead of thinking maybe we should like take her somewhere

[oetscop]

more random childhood neglect thoughts. within the last month ive been (re???) diagnosed with ocd and also crohns. i originally wasnt going to go through with an autism diagnosis because its damn near impossible when youre an adult and also (technically) a woman. and id have to seek out another specialist and i just. frankly dont want to do that lmao

but after talking with my pcp (who heard me talking abt ibs and was like thats absolutely not fucking ibs) shes like pretty convinced i have dyspraxia. which makes sense i mean i have adhd and im probably on the spectrum

but i never considered it. i didnt learn how to tie my shoes until i was like. 8. and its not even like..the normal way. and it always takes me a fucking long time. and i never thought anything of it. bc nobody fucking taught me how. everyone around me just KNEW. and i was keeping mine tied and just slipping my shoes on. literally a teacher taught me when i tied my shoes together one time and like was shocked that i didnt know how to fix it.

so like. who even knows. like what if thats something i wouldnt have struggled with if someone just told me how to do it? i dont fucking know.

the older i get the more resentful i am.

[fishofthewoods]

I see a lot of people clowning on the people of Pelican Town for not repairing the community center themselves or clowning on Lewis for embezzling and. like. Those criticisms aren't entirely unfair. But I think instead of coming at it from a perspective of "why can't the townspeople do this" we should be asking "why and how can the farmer do this?"

Like. Think about it. The farmer arrives in Stardew Valley on the first day of spring. By the first day they're obviously different. By day five the spirits of the forest who haven't been seen by the townsfolk in years or generations are speaking to them. By the second week they've developed a rapport with the wizard that lives outside town.

In the spring they go foraging and find more than even Linus, who's spent so many years learning the ways of the valley. Maybe he knows, when he sees them walking back home. Maybe he looks at them and understands that they're different, chosen somehow.

In the summer they fish in the lakes and the ocean for hours on end, catching fish that even Willy's only ever heard of, fish that he thought were the stuff of legend. They pull up giants from the deep and mutated monstrosities from the sewers.

In the fall, their crops grow incredibly immense; pumpkins twice as tall as a person, big enough that someone could live inside. The farmer cuts it down with an axe without even batting an eye. Does Lewis wonder, when he checks the collection bin that night and finds it full to the brim with pumpkin flesh? What does he think? Does he even leave the money? Does he have the funds to pay the farmer millions of dollars for the massive amounts of wine they sell? Or is it someone--something--else entirely?

In the winter, the farmer delves into the mines. No one in Pelican Town has been down there in decades. No one in living memory has been to the bottom. The farmer gets there within the season. They return to the surface with stories of dwarven ruins and shadow people, stories they only tell to Vincent and Jas, whose retellings will be dismissed by the adults as flights of fancy. People walking by the entrance to the mines sometimes hear the farmer in there, speaking in a language no one can understand. Something speaks back.

The farmer speaks to the the wizard. They speak to the spirit of a bear inside a centuries-old stone. They speak to the shadow people and the dwarves, ancient enemies, and they try to mend the rift. They speak to the Junimos, ancient spirits of the forest and the river and the mountain. They taste the nectar of the stardrops and speak to the valley itself. They change Pelican Town, and they change the valley. Things are waking up.

And what does Evelyn think? She's the oldest person in the valley; she was here when the farmer's grandfather was young. (How old *is* she, anyway? She never seems to age. She doesn't remember the year she was born.) Does she see the farmer and think of their grandfather? Does she try to remember if he was like this too, strange and wild and given the gifts of the forest?

And does their grandfather haunt the valley? He haunts the farm, still there even after his death; his body died somewhere else, but his spirit could never stay away for long. Does Abigail, using her ouija board on a stormy night, almost drop the planchette when she realizes it's moving on its own? Does Shane, walking to work long before anyone else leaves their house, catch glimpses of a wispy figure floating through the town? Does the farmer know their grandfather came back to the place they both love so much?

Mr. Qi takes interest in the farmer. He's different, too; in a different way, maybe, but the principles are the same. They're both exceptional, and no matter what Qi says about it being hard work and dedication, they both know the truth: the world bends around the both of them, changing to fit their needs. Most people aren't visited by fairies or witches. Most people don't have meteorites crash in their yard. Most people couldn't chop down trees all day without a break or speak to bears and mice and frogs.

The farmer is different. The rules of the world don't work for them the way they work for everyone else. The farmer goes fishing and finds the stuff of fairy tales. The farmer goes mining and fights shadow beasts and flying snakes. The farmer looks at paths the townspeople walk every day and finds buried in the dirt relics of lost civilizations.

The farmer is a violent, irrepressible miracle, chosen by the valley and destined to return to it someday. Even if they'd never received the letter, they would've come home.

They always come home eventually.

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[beejunos]

SPEAK TO ME | Alastor x f.reader

Summary: Alastors voice turns you on. Something he loves to take advantage of.

FULL STORY!

Here we have it! The full story! 5k of pure smut. Enjoy darlings! Tags: Dom!Alastor, masturbation, oral, light bondage, fingering, dirty talk

Attraction was a funny thing. It could never be explained, and often, it just appeared one day. Attraction could hit you like a train in the dead of night, but sometimes, it would follow you like a shadow. Whispering sweet words in your ear without making itself too known, not until it was too late, and you realised that you had stayed awake for two hours when you should have been asleep instead of thinking about what someone's hands would feel like on your skin. 

Attraction was an annoyance, but lust, its evil twin, was irrational, unpredictable, and, worst of all, it made you stupid. 

So incredibly dumb.

The lust had crept up on you like a thief in the night. Stealing your rational mind and sanity, leaving only the body to fend off the raging attraction that wanted to sink its teeth into your tender flesh. 

Having a crush on the radio demon was a poor choice and a painful one.

It began weeks ago when you first arrived at the crumbling hotel. 

Hazbin Hotel, with its rehabilitation program, had been your last resort after your landlord, who really deserved to be in Hell, kicked you out of your apartment. 

You had been tired of fending for yourself, trying to work, feed yourself and find an apartment with a landlord who wasn't a humongous creep. It seemed to be an impossible task in Hell. It wasn't until you heard one of your coworkers talk about the interview on the news with the princess of Hell that you found out about her little redemption project.

The Hazbin Hotel appeared like a lighthouse on the horizon for you, and the prospect of a warm meal and a soft bed was too enticing to pass on.

Charlie had, of course, taken you in straight away and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally catch your breath. 

The bath you took that evening in your own bathroom, connected to your own bedroom, was heavenly. Almost sinful with how much pleasure you took from it. 

The next day had been quite overwhelming to you, to say the least. Thrown into the middle of trust exercises with people whom you had known less than 24 hours, where you had, in the span of two hours, visited a bondage club and escaped a turf war that Vaggie had thrown you into. If that was how she had learned to trust others, then maybe you weren't cut out for redemption. 

While the other hotel residents turned out to be a wonderful company, one, in particular, made your little sinner's heart skip a beat. 

Alastor, the infamous radio demon. 

He had ... not been what you had expected. 

From all the tales you'd heard of him, you expected a grotesque monster who murdered anyone who would just look at him funny. But he couldn't have been further from the image you had created of him from all the rumours. 

First of all, he was beautiful. His soft red eyes were so hypnotising that you feared you would drown in them, with a smile showing rows of sharp teeth. One thing was for sure: Hell would contort any morals and virtues you may have had, and if you had liked the idea of lovers biting your skin during intercourse before, it was now a raving obsession. An obsession that would fule you nightly fantasies for weeks and weeks. 

Sometimes, that was the only thing you could think about, his sharp teeth grazing your neck or nibbling your ear. 

Alastor was also very charming in his own way. A gentleman by hellish standards. Whenever you were going somewhere in the same direction, he would always hold up doors for you or pull out the chair for you during dinner time. Something you were highly unused to, and it had taken a long time for you not to blush whenever he did it. 

Whilst his jokes were lame at best, the conversations you would have late at night by the fireplace were your favourite time of the day. Because you loved his voice. You really loved his voice. 

There was something so bewitching with that transatlantic accent and that strange buzzing overlay to how he spoke. It made it sound like he was far away when he was, in fact, right in front of you, and the gentle buzzing had made you tremble more times than you could count.

Something that you suspected that Alastor had caught on to with how often he would appear behind you, only to put his head right beside yours and say the most innocent things that would make you react in the most sinful ways.

The day he had started to call you 'my dear' had been a day you would never forget, for you had laid awake all night imagining him whispering those exact words in your ear as you brought yourself to climax. Again, again, and again. 

You had had a tough time the day after looking him in the eyes without thinking of all the times you had desperately whispered his name into your pillow with your fingers between your legs.

"What's this?" you asked, surprised as you sat down to eat breakfast. On the table sat a red present with a big black bow right in front of the seat you always occupied. You could recognise Rosies' gift rapping technique anywhere.

"It is a gift, my dear. Open it," answered Alastor and sat down to your right at the end of the table.

You and Alastor were always the two residents in the hotel who were awake first: You because you wanted to spend as much time as possible with the strange but charming sinner. Unfortunately, he had the habit of disappearing during the day, so you only ever had the morning and the night to talk uninterrupted with him. You also suspected that Alastor barely slept because, after your evening chats, when you went to bed, Alastor would go up to his radio tower to host his show, and you had no idea when he would end them.

You opened the gift slowly as if savouring it, trying not to get too excited about having gotten a gift from Alastor when, in reality, you just wanted to rip it open.

Inside the box was a beautiful antique radio in pristine condition. The dark wooded exterior was smooth and shiny as if someone had just polished it, and it made you almost not want to touch it in case you left fingerprints on it.

You looked up at Alastor, whose smile seemed to grow as he looked at you.

"I remember you telling me that you had never had the pleasure of hearing my radio show, and now you can listen to it whenever you want!"

At times like these, you wondered if Alastor knew of your slightly obsessive crush on him. He struck you as a man who liked to play with his food.

The radio turned out to be a great gift that you used almost religiously. Every evening, when you were preparing to go to bed, you would turn on the radio and listen to Alastor's radio show. You would have the radio on softly in the background as you walked around your room doing your nightly routine. Sometimes, you would even invent stuff for you to do so you could stay up longer just so you could listen to his voice.

It was almost like he was in the room with you, talking just to you about anything he found interesting. On the odd occasion, Alastor would incorporate a passive-aggressive threat into the show for some poor sinner getting in his way, but that never scared you. In fact, you looked forward to those instances.

Alastors' voice would drop and get darker, reminding everyone who listened that he was still dangerous—a predator waiting to strike.

A wolf in sheep's clothing, and what a stupid sheep you were. Yearning for the wolf bite.

Halfway through your night routine, you turned on your radio at a soft, pleasant volume, and Alastor's smooth voice filled the otherwise silent room. 

"Salutations, friends and hellish residents! Tonight, we have a splendid assortment of the latest news and the best Hell has to offer in jazz, but before we chitchat about our dear city's hellish affairs, here is the newest music from Miss Jezebel and The Wicked Six!" 

Slow and sultry jazz music started to play on the radio. The woman who sang had a deep, smoky quality that was inherently sexy to you. There was just something about women who sang with deep voices that made your hips sway from side to side, effortlessly dancing across your room as you started to strip, pretending there was someone there who enjoyed the show you put on. 

You turned off all the lights except the small lamp by your bed and crawled under the thick blanket. Leaving the radio on as you made yourself comfortable, hugging one of your pillows close to you. 

The song ended, and Alastor came back. This time, he started talking about the news. Since the news sometimes made you too sad to sleep, you never really listened to what he was saying; you only listened to his voice—his tone, the cadence of his speech, and his transatlantic accent. 

You let his voice wash over you like a soothing balm to your aching body, but soon, you felt the familiar tingles run up your back. Warmth pooled low within you as you shifted in your bed, lying on your back. The desire to touch and be touched grew in you, to move, to grind, to satisfy the urge for sex. 

Closing your eyes and letting your hands wander over your body, you start by slowly dragging your fingertips over your sensitive throat, making sure that your light fingertips touch all the places that made you weak. 

Your hands travel from your throat down to your chest. Palming your breasts in your hands, you drag your nails over your sensitive nipples. Pinshin, pulling and rolling them between your fingers till they are warm and hard. 

Your senses sharpen as you start to feel more intensely, but your mind goes hazy, making it hard to think clearly. Alastors voice is but background noise now that edges you on.

One hand stays on your breast as the other journeys down, down, down and under your underwear. 

You slowly drag your finger between your lips, coating your finger in your wetness as you slowly pull it towards your clit. A breathless gasp is pulled from your mouth the first time your finger comes in contact with your sensitive clit. Slowly and with the lightest touch, you start to circle the organ, and what feels like electricity builds in your loins.

You can't help but move in your bed, legs bending and toes curling as you give yourself the pleasure that you wished Alastor would provide you. Your hand that previously played with your breast joined your other hand, and you let out a not-so-subtle moan as you pushed two fingers into you. Desperately, you curl your fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. 

You want it. You need it. Your toes curl almost painfully as Alastors name falls from your lips like a prayer. 

You're so close. So close you can see stars behind your eyes. You breathlessly chase that sweet release. Building, and building, and building. Your legs are shaking as you bite your lips. Hips lift from the mattress as you fight the urge to close your legs.

You are so, so close.

"What are you doing, my dear?" 

Cold dread crashes through your body as you rip your hands away from your body. You frantically look all over your room in the shadows. Looking for that all-knowing smile and calculating red eyes. 

His voice had been so close and clear that he had to be in your room. It had felt like he had spoken to you right beside your ear. But you were alone. No one was in your room but you. 

"Such a naughty little creature you are, my dear. So desperate to be touched." 

Goosebumps travel up your back as you slowly turn in the direction you hear his voice. On your nightstand is the radio that Alastor gave you. It is still on, but the yellow light of the display has turned red. 

Towering over you in your bed, you almost feel like he is watching you. Observing you as you lay naked before him. Your blankets were by the end of the bed as you had kicked them off a long time ago. 

"Can't even listen to me talking without having to touch yourself. My oh my, what will I ever do with such a bad little doe, hm?" 

Shaking all over, you lunged for the radio's electrical cord and jerked it out of the outlet. The radio fell silent as you collapsed in your bed. Spent, but not satisfied. However, you soon start to tremble all over again over the fact that Alastor had listened to you pleasuring yourself, and he seemed to like it.

You would be lying if you said you had a good night's sleep after that fateful evening—or if you said you had slept at all.

You had stayed up all night replaying the previous night's events, unable to comprehend what you had been through. Had it really happened? Had Alastor really listened to you masturbate while you were moaning his name? It had almost felt like a fever dream had you not stared at the pulled-out electrical cord for the radio all morning.

The clock on your dresser kept ticking as you sat in your black dressing gown on your bed. The time was about to turn nine, and you had not stepped a foot outside of your bedroom, too scared to face the man after your night. You knew you had to leave your bedroom sooner or later, but you were waiting until you were sure that Alastor would have gone for the day to do whatever he usually did during the day. As soon as you were sure that you would not encounter him in the hallway, you would sneak out of your bedroom and go down to the kitchen to steal all the snacks you needed to survive the day cupped out in your own room, like the coward you intended to be. 

It was one thing to fantasise about Alastor naked, but it was a completely different thing to now face the possibility that maybe he would like to see you naked, too. 

Three knocks were heard from your door out of nowhere before Alastor slammed the door open and stepped in with a silver tray full of food in his band. You let out a small yelp before climbing further up into the bed to get away from the other sinner, who waltzed into your room as if he owned the place.

"My dear, what are you doing in bed at this hour? Don't you know that you've missed breakfast?" Alastor's voice was laced with a hint of amusement as if he found your predicament delightful. He walked over to the little table and armchair you had in front of the unused fireplace on the opposite wall to the bed and sat down the tray on the table before conjuring a matching armchair out of thin air. He sat down as if nothing was out of the ordinary and leaned his cane against the armrest as soft jazz music began playing.

As you sat on your bed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your underdressed state, you watched in disbelief as Alastor, seemingly unperturbed by your unease, crossed his legs and settled into your room. His casual demeanour, coupled with his humming along to the music, only served to deepen your sense of bewilderment, and you were sure that you were hallucinating. 

You must have eaten something terrible yesterday, and maybe everything you thought happened last night and now was all in your head. 

"Are you going to eat or not? Your food is getting cold, my dear." 

The look Alastor gave you from the corner of his eye told you that it was in your best interest to sit in the armchair in front of him and eat. 

You slowly left the safety of your bed and walked over to Alastor. However, the steps you took on the way were tiny, considering that your dressing gown ended in the middle of your thighs, and you didn't want to flash him accidentally. Not caring about the look you got from Alastor, you shuffled your feet across the room and sat down in the armchair, struggling as you continued to keep your legs as close together as possible. 

With shaking hands, you took the small coffee cup and were about to put it to your lips for a sip when Alastor spoke up again:

"Aren't you forgetting something, my dear?" 

The look he was giving you made shivers travel up and down your spine. Shivers dipped in fear with a hint of excitement. He had never looked at you so intensely before. 

"Thank you for bringing me breakfast," you whispered hoarsely. 

"Good girl." You almost choked on your coffee, "And you're welcome." 

You had a tough time looking into his eyes after that comment as your cheeks grew warmer and warmer. 

Without warning, Alastor began to talk about everything that needed to be done that day. Apparently, Niffty had found a cockroach infestation in the basement, and Charlie had decided they would use chemicals instead of Niffty's needle, which she liked stabbing them with. 

Alastor kept talking on and on about work and the hotel as you ate. On the outside, you kept calm as you finished the last of your breakfast, but on the inside, you wondered if he would mention what had happened yesterday. Had it even happened? 

Maybe it hadn't, and your obsessive crush had finally broken you. 

"Ah, I see that you have finished your breakfast! Well, I best be on my way!" With a snap of his finger, Alastor made the breakfast tray disappear into a red cloud. He did, however, leave the extra chair he had conjured up. 

"Could you be a doll and tell Vaggie that I'll need the documents later today and that she can leave them in the bar? I need to head out today, and I don't think I'll be back until this evening," said Alastor as he stood up, brushing invisible dust off his impeccable suit. 

"Uhm, sure. I'll do that. Just close the door when you leave, please," you answered as you looked as Alastor made way for the hallway door. He waved absentmindedly over his shoulder in affirmation of your request.

A small part of you were disappointed that this little breakfast meeting had turned out the way it had, no matter how confounding it had been. If only you could have gotten a hint from Alastor about what he was thinking and why he frankly was there.  

Maybe he had just brought you breakfast from the goodness of his heart? Or he had just missed your company that morning since you usually only got to talk uninterrupted in the morning.

You turned around to walk to the bathroom as he left your room. Letting your shoulder slump in disappointment, you wondered what you would do that day. You remembered that Charlie had mentioned that it would be nice if the hotel's garden were more well-kept but that she couldn't hire a gardener just yet. 

That could be the thing you did today. Find some gardening tools and surprise Charlie by pulling out all the weeds in the flowerbeds. 

Oh, what a joy, you thought sarcastically as you started to open the bathroom door. However, it slammed close hard in front of you as a hand shot forward and a hard chest pressed into your back. 

All around you began shadows to dance as if they were made of mist, and the air got charged with a static you were all too familiar with. The shivers came back, but your whole body shivered this time as his other hand gripped your hip, pressing you closer to him, but the only thing you could focus on was his breath fanning over your ear as he whispered:

"I will be back at eleven tonight, and when I get back, I will find you in your bed, naked, waiting on me. You are not allowed to touch yourself, and don't try to defy me, my dear, for I will know if you do." 

In a heartbeat, Alastor was gone, and your body instantly felt colder. Shaking all over, your knees finally gave away under you, and you collapsed in front of your bathroom door. 

Behind you, the radio began to play softly—the same music Alastor had played during breakfast. Looking at the blasted thing, you could see that the radio wasn't plugged in.

The clock was about to strike a quarter to eleven, and you had been a nervous wreck for the past three hours. Time couldn't have gone by slower as you constantly turned to look at the clock hands to see how far they had moved. 

You had tried to distract yourself during the day with the gardening, but you constantly got distracted by all the fantasies you had of what Alastor would do to you. Turned out that it was really hard to work when horny. 

As you looked at the clock again, you re-adjusted in your bed for what felt like the thousandth time. 22:47. 

Ugh, this is taking forever! 

Laying down again, you looked over at the radio on your nightstand. It had been quiet since the morning, but you still waited to hear the tiniest sound from it that would indicate that Alastor was with you. But nothing came. 

You turned on your side to continue staring at the radio as you took one of your pillows and pressed it against you. The air in your room was cold against your skin, yet you ignored your chilled skin, for the mere thought of what would happen tonight warmed you from the inside out. 

The benefit of laying on your side was that you now could feel the slickness between your legs, coating almost all of the insides of your thighs. You knew that Alastor had said that you were not allowed to touch yourself, but he had never specified in what way you could not touch yourself, and if you didn't get some of your release soon, you felt like you would spontaneously ignite.   

Slowly, you started to press your legs together as you rubbed them against each other. Sweet pressure was building up the pleasure within you as you pressed your face into the pillow. Harder and harder, you tried to push your legs together, increasing the pleasure you had longed for all of them. 

Close, you were so close, and the excitement of defying Alastor just heightened the experience. 

You only needed one more push until you would fall over the edge into sweet release, but it never came as something grabbed onto your ankles and roughly pulled your legs apart. 

"I must say, I am really disappointed in you, my dear." 

From the shadows stepped Alastor out and looked down at you from the end of the bed, but what scared you the most was that he was not smiling. 

Looking down at you from heavily hooded eyes, Alastor dragged your body further down the bed, keeping your legs spread out with the help of his shadow tentacles. 

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it," you pleaded, hoping he would show you mercy, but from the looks of it, you would not be shown any. 

"Don't lie to me. You know very well what you did." With a snap of his finger, the armchair Alastor had conjured earlier that day dragged across the floor and stopped behind him. He sat down and made himself comfortable, looking over at you as he had a full view of between your legs.

"Now, darling, since you didn't listen to me, there will be consequences," said Alastor, crossing his legs and leaning his head in his hand lazily. You pressed up on your elbows to look over at him, and while his body language did not look interested, his eyes were sharp, focusing on your wetness that glistened in the light from the chandelier.

"One, you are not allowed to touch me." 

"What?!" you cried, the fear that you had ruined your only chance with Alastor burning within you like a forest fire. 

"Silence." You instantly shut your mouth as static filled the air and prickled your skin. Alastor's antlers had grown in size. He sighed and continued when he was sure that you would not say one more word.

"As I was saying, you are not allowed to touch me, but I can touch you however I want. If you wish me to stop, you will simply say television. Understod?" 

"Yes."

"Yes, and?" 

"Yes, sir?" You weren't sure what Alastor wanted to hear, but from the smirk that started growing on his lisp, you were sure that you had said the right thing. 

"What a good little doe you are, my dear." Whilst you were sure that was said condescendingly, you could not help the pride that grew in you that he thought you were good for him. A small yelp was pulled from your lips as you felt Alastors tentacles start to massage their way up your legs.

"You seemed to like my voice so much, my dear, that I thought you must love it if I command you as well. Isn't that what you want? For me to tell you exactly what to do to you and how to do it? Wouldn't you like to put on a show for me, darling?" 

Your brain was short-circuiting as you could not get a single word out. The only thing you could do was nod enthusiastically as Alastor's shadow tentacles gently began to play with your lips between your legs without touching your clit.

"Lovely." said Alastor, now giving you his trademark smile, "Why don't you show me how you touched yourself yesterday? I could hear those delicious sounds you made, my dear, and I want to hear them live."

And so, with shaking hands, you began massaging and caressing your body, making sure that you touched every part of your body that made you sing in pleasure. You wanted to put on a show, but you were so eager, so impatient as you played with your body that you could not bear the thought of prolonging this torture. 

You needed to be touched, and you needed it now. 

Dipping your hand between your legs, you could feel Alastors tentacles pull away from your genitals but keep a firm grip on your thighs. The first time you touched your clit was electric, as you made sure to look Alastor deep in the eyes when you did it. A soft moan from you filled the air.

Rolling the tip of your finger lazily against your clit you looked on with great satisfaction as Alastors eyes dropped from your down to your finger between your legs.

"Drag your fingers between your lips, darling, but before you do, circle your opening. Slowly without pushing in," commanded Alastor, and if you weren't delusional, you thought you heard the desperation in his voice, but his face gave nothing away. He readjusted in the chair by uncrossing his legs, giving you a full view of his hard cock in his pants. 

Never had you been filled with the need to fall on your knees and suck someone's cuck as if it was what you were created to do as you did now. You licked your lips and whined loudly as you circled the opening to your vagina with your finger, wishing it was Alastors finger or tongue that did it instead.

After circling for some time, you pulled your finger through your lips up to your clit and began touching your clit again. This time, with additional wetness, you let all the sounds you wished to make leave your mouth as you quickened the speed of your finger. 

"That's it, darling, you are doing so well." Whispered Alastor as he leaned forward in his chair, "When you feel like you're about to cum, remove your finger immediately."

The demand almost made you want to cry, but from the look Alastor was giving you, you did not want to challenge him. Savouring the feeling of your fingers a few seconds more before you removed your fingers from your clit that begged your release. The orgasm that had been at the tip of your fingers slowly fizzled out as you started to calm down. 

You looked at Alastor, who had moved from his chair to sit on the bed by your feet, waiting for his following instructions. 

"What a treasure you are, darling. So willing, so needy."

Alastor lifted his hand and, with the back of his fingers, caressed the inside of your thigh. The touch was so charged that it felt like you could cum from that mere touch alone. As your leg twitched from his touch, Alastor's tentacle tightened around your leg, pulling you closer to him. Your breath got stuck in your throat as you watched Alastor climb onto the bed, sitting on his knees between your legs.

"How long have you dreamt of this? How long have you been mine without me knowing it?" The look in Alastor's eyes grew increasingly intense as he leaned over you, looking down at you with an almost mad look in his red eyes. Out of nowhere, Alastor pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them, making your hips lift from the bed involuntarily at the pleasure. 

"How long, my dear? Answer me," he growled as his antlers grew. You could barely breathe as he continued to curl his finger repeatedly inside you, hitting the spot that made your toes curl. 

"Since... since I first met you!" you cried as your breathing quickened. Above you, Alastor chuckled darkly as he put his free hand on your left thigh. 

"So long. We have much time to catch up to, don't we, dear?" 

You could barely comprehend a single word that left his sinful mouth as you neared the orgasm you desperately wanted. And had you not made the mistake you would have made, you would have cum on Alastors finger. 

In your lustful haze, you placed your hand on Alastors arm, holding your thigh. Instantly, Alastor recoiled from you, and the second orgasms you had almost tipped over were ripped from you. 

"What did I say about not touching me?" 

Two new tentacles came out of nowhere and wrapped around your arms, pulling them above your head. 

As you begged and pleaded for forgiveness, the weight of your desperation was palpable. You implored Alastor not to leave you like this with every fibre of your being. The thought of losing him now was unbearable, and you knew that if he did leave, it would be the end of you.

Your legs shook from the strain of being in the same position for so long. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. You were overwhelmed with emotion, your heart aching with the fear and uncertainty of what would happen next. The tension in the air was unmistakable, and you held your breath, waiting for Alastor's response.

But he only looked at you from under heavy lids. Slowly, he lifted his hand that had fingered you and licked the wetness that was still on it. 

"If you think I would leave you now, my dear, you are indeed mistaken. You are mine now, and I will do with you as I please." Grabbing both of your legs under your knees, Alastor pulled you towards him before bending you backwards so your toes almost touched the bed beside your hands. He stared deep into your eyes as he put his tongue against you and licked you from your vaginas opening up to your clit. The sound you made had been ungodly and would have been a miracle if no one else in the hotel had heard you. 

Alastor quickly started to suck and lick your clit as your legs began to shake. You could feel the sinner's claws dug into your flesh as he grew increasingly frantic in his administration, acting almost like someone who had just been presented with a glass of water after 12 days in the desert. 

Pressure built up within you for the third time, this time stronger and more intense than the previous ones. Closer and closer, he took you to the edge you wished to fall from. 

Shaking, twisting, and pulling against your restraint, you let Alastors name fall from your lips loudly as you looked at him, giving you pleasure. Blood was dripping down from your thighs where his claws had dug into your skin, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the sweet release that you begging for. 

"Close, Alastor, I'm so close," the words tumbled out of you in a whisper as you looked on as the man licked your clit with the tip of his tongue. The only thing Alastor did was briefly look up at you as he continued to give you pleasure. 

Closer, closer, and then you fell. 

The orgasm ripped through your body like a tidal wave, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably. Your toes curled almost painfully as you threw your head back in ecstasy.

You had no idea when Alastor had put your legs back down, but suddenly, when you came to it, he was sitting by your head, gently brushing your hair from your sweaty forehead. 

"What a good little doe you were for me, my love." 

Thank you for reading my little story! I hope you like it!

Taglist: @mossingvines @kitty-kei @chibistar45

[personasintro]

come for me | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it's a first proper date he's supposed to plan, unfortunately it does not go according to his plan

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, fluff, smut, neighbors au, enemies to lovers (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, protected s*x, little spanking, rough and quick s*x

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k+

a/n: this is one of the secrets I've been keeping and god it's finally here!! i wasn't even planning on finishing this today but I did and I'm so happy to share it with you! hope you like it <3

↳ previous parts

Jungkook is convinced the entire world sucks.

What should be considered as the most exciting time for some men, Jungkook finds it as a literal torture. Planning a date shouldn't be so tough. He has never truly done it before – not when he truly meant it. Whenever he went out for what could be considered as a pathetic attempt at a date, its purpose was clear. To fuck and end it with a mind-blowing orgasm on both parts. 

He has never done it like… this. 

Fuck.

Just the thought of it makes him want to throw up. He definitely can't mention that to you – who's pretty much clueless about his thoughts and would kick him in the balls if you knew. 

“I don't know dude, you should bring her roses.” Taehyung proposes, watching his friend in a mild panic as he bounces Ruda in his arms. 

“She's not like other girls.”

“What do you mean? Every woman loves roses! You can't go wrong with that!” Taehyung protests, offended that Jungkook rejected his idea right away. 

“I wouldn't say every but yeah, it's the effort that counts. Plus, she knows you've never done this before.” Yoongi joins in that conversation, shrugging nonchalantly while Jungkook nibbles on his bottom lip. 

Fuck! This is not like him. 

It's already enough his friends share an amused look, one he definitely notices and finds really offending. They find this entire thing very amusing while Jungkook is having a midlife crisis. 

“Okay, maybe forget about the flowers. What does she like?”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowns.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “What things does she like to do? Does she like to eat? Likes to watch movies?”

Jungkook's a little taken back by those questions, a clueless expression clouding his face while Taehyung snorts in the background. He's too busy trying to think of a proper answer to glare at him in return. 

“I–I don't know,” he admits.

“You don't know?” Yoongi deadpans, “Come on dude, you gotta know something.”

“I don't know!” he exclaims in distress, causing Ruda to babble as if to remind him she's there. He shoots her an apologetic look, looking back at Yoongi. “We never really discussed that kind of stuff. We fucked. That's what she likes for sure.”

“Should you talk like that in front of the baby?” Taehyung points out, met with another glare that shuts him up. 

Ruda is too young to understand. He'll take care of his bad mouth by the time she understands, he naively thinks to himself.

“Then just fuck her.” 

Jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at his friend and his stupid idea. “Seriously? I'm supposed to take her on a date. Beats the whole purpose of it if I just fuck her instead.”

“Look at him, so much progress.” Taehyung mutters amusingly, causing Jungkook to grab one of Ruda's plushies and throw it aggressively at Taehyung's head. 

“Then just take her somewhere and fuck her after. If the date is awful, at least she gets her world rocked.”

They both start to laugh while Jungkook whines loudly, a groan following right after. “You guys are fucking with me. Literally, you're no help.”

“JK, we can't exactly help you when you have no idea what she likes. Maybe you should find out first and then think of something?”

“Oh, how did I not think of it sooner?” Jungkook mocks, doing a little stance with his arms while Ruda is in his hold. “Very smart, Yoongi. I don't want to make it seem as if I don't know what I'm doing.”

“What's so wrong about that?” Taehyung questions, “You just ask her what she prefers and it'll be easier to plan something.”

“Yeah, he's right.”

Jungkook sighs, pinching his brows. Ruda starts to fidget in his hold, causing him to sit down in a chair. He hands her one of her rattles as she starts to wildly shake it in her tiny hands. 

“Won't I look pathetic if I just asked her?”

“You literally look pathetic right now.”

“Taehyung, God help me–”

“Just ask her.” He cuts him off. 

Somehow, he made it sound easier than the thought of it is. 

The next time you see Jungkook is when you bring him the dinner you cooked. You haven't had that much time to see each other, with you working and his sleeping schedule all over the place, you had to settle with a message for the time being. It hasn't been that long, only like three days since he asked you on a date.

You're not going to lie, you feel a little giddy thinking of it. It's weird because you can't imagine the famous Jeon Jungkook on a date. If someone mentioned the words date and Jungkook in the same sentence, you would laugh them off. But now that it involves you, you find it almost flattering. He's taking you on a date. 

You. 

And no one else. 

You want to devilishly cackle at all those bitches that got to fuck him, wanted something more with him. Realizing that's kind of evil, you humble yourself because nothing's sure yet. 

Since this is very new to not only you but Jungkook as well, it's hard to have any say when it comes to the future. You're trying to prepare yourself for any outcomes but it's tough. Tougher than you think it would be. The idea of this failing makes you weirdly sad and you can't stand it.

However the sight in front of you completely brings you to other thoughts. You've never been someone who would thirst over dads. The whole DILF thing discussed between women was a pure fantasy, something they would romanize or even sexualize. Not that you were purely against it. Are women who find young dads hot that bad? 

The potential man would have to be hot in order to find them being a young dad hot. Some men just have that spark. And you've never really met one even remotely close to Jungkook.

And there he is. 

He opens his front door, hair slightly raffled and messy, as if he hasn't brushed it the entire day. He has one of his oversized gray shirts on, a map of spit or whatever that is decorating the thin material. He has a baby cloth draped over his shoulder, momentarily widening his eyes at the sight of you. 

Then realization hits him and he steals a glance at the watch around his wrist. He forgot you were supposed to drop in for dinner. 

Other than he looks fucking hot, even in his messy state, you also find him adorable how he stares at you with big doe eyes before he ushers you to come inside. 

“Where's my favorite baby?” you ask excitedly, keeping your tone down just in case she's sleeping. It's awfully quiet in Jungkook's apartment. 

“You make it sound as if you knew dozens of them.”

You give him a look, hearing him chuckling as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Rude.”

“She's sleeping,” he answers instead, but a cocky grin is attached to his moisturized lips. “She's been a little cranky this night,” He lets out a yawn. “Barely got any sleep.”

You pout at the thought of it. “You should've told me. We could switch or something.”

He stares at you dumbfounded as if you just came up with the craziest idea. Perhaps it is one. 

“You have a job, Y/N. I can't let you have a sleepless night.”

He has a point. Even if you were willing to spend a sleepless night helping him, you wouldn't really help much since you have to wake up early in the morning. You can't babysit during the day, unless it's the weekend. And babysitting during the night so Jungkook can sleep, even if for a few hours would cause you to look like a zombie the next morning.

You love your sleep. But you're willing to give it away for Ruda. And Jungkook. 

Jungkook ends that particular topic, leading you further down his apartment and to his kitchen where you place the containers. “It's tomato sauce pasta with chicken and basil. Not exactly a trophy winning menu but I tried to cook something quickly.”

“Fuck, I'm so hungry,” Jungkook whines, opening the container as he inhales the scent, a steam coming off it since you just finished cooking. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

“No worries, I told you I wanna help in any way I can.” you assure him. 

He motions for you to sit down, already pulling out a glass for you where he pours you an apple juice. “Have you eaten?” he asks, already digging his fork into pasta.

“It's hot, be careful,” you warn him, even though the steam itself is enough of an indicator that it's indeed very hot. But Jungkook looks as if he's ready to swallow the entire thing with no thoughts. “And no. I came directly here but no worries, I will eat when I come home.”

“Nonsense,” Jungkook waves you off. You watch him stand up and before you can complain, he pulls out a plate for you and opens the other container you had prepared for him for tomorrow. “Here, let's eat together.”

“Jungkook–I have my food at home, I just came here to drop this–”

“Stay for a while.” he says simply, looking too irresistible and straight into your eyes for you to object. 

“Okay.”

You dig into the food, not realizing how hungry you've become once again. Your entire apartment smells like tomato sauce, garlic and basil. You hope by the time you come there, the opened windows did their job because you would hate to sleep in a smelly apartment. 

When you were cooking, you inhaled the smell a lot so naturally, you didn't feel as hungry anymore but now the hunger comes back. Without any argument, you both eat in silence while trying to talk about your days. 

You and Jungkook haven't really talked that much before. You both know what you spent most of the time doing. That's changing and it is a pleasant change.

It does feel slightly odd to be talking about casual stuff like your work. But once Jungkook takes over and talks you through their day. He's got a lot on his plate. He has a baby for fuck sake. He looks exhausted, yet his eyes are sparkling and he doesn't make it sound as if he's complaining. He informs you, even laughs at Ruda's cranky mood and what work she makes him go through. 

You're done and Jungkook takes it upon himself to clean the dishes and give you back your food containers, even though you told him it can wait. He protests and while he just as much protests with you cleaning the mess in his living room, you do it anyway.

There are toys and a few dirty and empty bottles laying around. There's not that much of a mess and it's done shortly after Jungkook finishes dishes.

You both decide to hang out for a while before you have to get home, take a shower and prepare yourself for the night. 

“Hey, I meant to ask you about something…”

Jungkook starts unsurely, arm outstretched behind your seat on his couch as you're cuddled to his side. You could fall asleep like this.

“It's about our date.”

You pull away slightly to look at his face, “Are you backing down from it?” you muse, watching the way his face turns into panic and that alone tells you that's far from the truth. It's enough to let you relax as you giggle.

“No!”

“Then what is it?” you ask, cuddling back but in a position where you still can see him. 

“What do you like to do?” he asks, a little awkward as he scratches the back of his head. “It sounds fucking stupid but I was wondering where to take you and I realized–we never talked about this stuff. And I–” Don't want to mess up. He doesn't finish.

Something warm collects in your chest and you try to hide a smile, not wanting him to feel as if you're finding him amusing or anything of that sort. Actually, you find him endearing. He's showing you a side of himself that you've never seen before.

“Whatever you plan, I'm sure I'll enjoy it.” You settle on saying, not having anything particular in mind which is not a help at all. 

“Come on!” Jungkook whines, “I'm trying here. I've never done this shit before.”

“Did you just call our date a shit?” you tease him, watching him open his mouth before he closes it and glares at you.

“I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know, I just love teasing you,” you muse, met with another glare which causes you to giggle silently. “I've never seen you like this. I'm quite enjoying it.”

“Yeah, make fun of me.” he scoffs a little.

Realizing this might not be just as fun and humorous as you make it seem to be, you also realize this must be important to him in a way. Your smile drops and you sit up, watching him slide his arm off the couch and into his lap. He stares there thoughtfully, avoiding your gaze.

“I'm sorry, I didn't think you would worry about it this much,” you tell him gently, “Depends on what time we would go on a date.”

“I called my mom and she can babysit until 9PM. She has to go back home after that.”

“Hm, okay. And what time are we meeting?”

“I thought maybe around… four?” he says, stealing a glance at you as your purse your lips in thought.

“How about we eat somewhere nice–nothing fancy!” you warn him, not really sure if he's the type to go all out since he has never done this before. 

But still, you want to make sure he doesn't spend a fortune on a single date. Plus, you would like to pay too. Not because he has a baby and other expenses, but because you're independent. You don't need a man to pay for everything.

Maybe eventually it would be nice to get spoiled a little. But at the moment, you can't imagine it. It wouldn't seem fair considering what a position he's in now. There's a little human here that needs more of everything than you do.

It's not something you've had to come to terms with, you've understood it from the beginning. Jungkook is a dad now. And it has a certain baggage with it. 

“And then we could do something–I don't know. Maybe we could think about it after? To see what we're in the mood for.”

“You sure you'll be okay with it?” he asks unsure.

He's met with a confusion as you pull back and say; “Why wouldn't I be? I just suggested it.” you giggle.

“Just askin'. I've never done this before.”

“So you said.” you tell him, standing up. “I would go and check Ruda but I don't want to wake her up. So kiss her for me, okay?” 

Jungkook looks like he's ready to protest, perhaps telling you to stay a little longer or even night, knowing it might be too soon for you. Once he checks the time, he remains quiet and the pout is the only thing visible on his face. 

You lean down, kissing him on his cheek. “Don't worry about the date too much, okay?”

He hums, though keeps his pessimism to himself. You wave at him for the last time and it's until he hears a soft click that he's once again alone with his daughter. The one that announces herself shortly after you leave. A loud sigh leaving his mouth as he stands up and goes to check on her. 

“What do you mean you can't come?” Jungkook shrieks, so out of his character that even his mother on the other line stays silent for a second.

“I'm sorry, Jungkookie. They canceled all train connections because of an accident.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing his mother scolding him but he pays her zero attention. “Can you grab a taxi or something? I'll pay for it.”

It's out of his budget but he's desperate. 

“No, it's too expensive plus I wouldn't be able to make it in time. You know how it is here. It's hard to find a taxi.”

He groans, rubbing his face frustratedly as he stares out of the window. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He had it all planned. Even though you talked about getting food, he thought a lot – embarrassed to say – he even googled a few spots that were recommended around here. He would let you choose and maybe you would be able to visit them all within five hours that you would have for yourselves. 

But now everything's out of the window. 

“I could come tomorrow?” She tries to help, but Jungkook shakes his head.

You can't tomorrow. There's some kind of family party you need to attend. 

“No, it's fine, mom. I'll call you later.”

“I really am sorry, Jungkookie.”

He starts to think of every single thing that he knows. Every person gets on his mind and he wonders if he should call them. In a moment of realization and reality hitting back to him, he realizes he can't just call anyone to watch over his daughter. He sits down in disappointment, realizing how selfish that would be of him. 

He can't call Yoongi or Taehyung. They would not be able to take care of her and he would spend the entire date worrying, probably leaving to check on her. That's completely out of the question. None of his other friends, that probably fuck around as we're speaking would be able to help him.

None of his family members are around. Plus, they still haven't met Ruda – most of them – for some reason he thinks it's too early. He's still in a stage of trying to figure out to be a father. 

It's only his luck that his mom calls him from the train station, having no other way to come here. Just because some dumb fuck decided to jump in front of the train. 

He stops.

Fuck, he really is selfish.

He takes it back immediately, having more compassion now than ever since he has a whole baby to raise and take care of. 

You're supposed to be here any minute. He had it all planned. 

His mom should've been here soon, he would briefly talk her through Ruda's routine. He trusts her. She raised him and could surely take care of a baby. Plus, Ruda's sleep is better these days and she's too little to make a fuss about her dad not being here. 

When a knock resounds on his door, his entire stomach churns and he prepares himself for the disappointment that he seems to be. It's even worse when he opens the front door and you stand there, fully prepared in a short dress. Your hair is neat and nicely done, so is your make-up. Not that you aren't pretty either way, but he can definitely tell the extra effort you've put into yourself. 

It truly makes him feel like the biggest asshole. 

You smile, telling him something but he can't hear. He just stares, both out of awe and then frustration when he realizes what he's about to tell you. 

“What's wrong?” Your smile drops, making a note of his weird expression of pure sadness. 

“We can't go on a date,” He forces the words out of his mouth.

It's weird how his heart drops when you suddenly grab the strap of your bag, looking as if you're shielding yourself from him. 

“It's–My mom just called and she can't get on the train.”

“Oh,” you let out. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, um–come inside.” he says, gently grabbing your wrist as he pulls you inside. He doesn't need any nosy neighbors witnessing this very uncomfortable and awkward situation. 

You stand in his entry way, looking around in awkwardness as he scratches his temple.

He's obviously styled and prepared to go out. You've noticed his nice outfit right away. He's wearing black slacks with a casual white t-shirt tucked inside it. His hair is trimmed and styled back. You can smell his aftershave and hair gel along with his cologne. 

Clearly, he hasn't stood you up and what he's saying is the truth.

It's not like you doubt him but well – all of this is new and maybe it wouldn't be so out of character if Jungkook panicked and decided to make a lie to save himself. 

“I'm so sorry–I really had everything prepared for tonight. And it's completely ruined. I fucked up.”

You frown, staring at him for a second. “You didn't fuck up, Jungkook.” you tell him softly. “It's not your fault.”

“I thought of calling one of my friends, but they're not able to take care of Ruda–I can't just let them–”

Probably they wouldn't even want to babysit, now that he thinks of it.

“Jungkook, it's totally okay. I understand.”

“I can't let just anyone watch over her.”

“I understand,” you emphasize softly, smiling at him. “How about we take her with us?”

Jungkook's head snaps in your direction, looking at you as if you're crazy. “You wanna take a baby with us? Nothing against Ruda but–we're not gonna be able to enjoy it. She will cry eventually and I had plans–I can't possibly imagine taking her there–it's too much work.”

He panics and you need to get a hold of his shoulders to stop him.

“We don't have to take her to the restaurant or wherever you want to go,” you inform him, “We could just take her for a stroll and see from there? If she's gonna cry and be cranky, we'll just come back.”

You're not a mother yourself, but somehow you can empathize with his situation. He hasn't taken her out for too long, not onto too many public places. Until you count grocery stories and nearby parks. He's by himself most of the time. While he finally got the hang of the feeding, bath and sleeping routine, the thought of suddenly taking her there makes him unsure. Even though he knows he'll have to do it eventually. 

“Plus, I will be there. It's gonna be the two of us.” 

Something about that specific line makes him pause as he watches you. You give him a look, wondering what's the stare for but he just smiles. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you assure him. “Nothing's ruined. Plus, I think I'll prefer Ruda's company there too.”

He looks at you suspiciously, almost like he doesn't believe you. And perhaps he doesn't. But you giggle. “I'm serious. There's gonna be time to enjoy ourselves alone.”

“I–” he stops, “Wow. Okay. I'll prepare her and we can go.”

“Great,” you smile, “I'll prepare her stroller. Do you have any formula prepared?”

“Yeah, had one prepared for mom. It should still be warm.” 

You both jump into action. Jungkook takes Ruda out of her cradle that he bought for her and has its place designed in his living room. She starts to wake up, her little face twisting as you coo at her while you walk past them. You prepare the bottle and stroller, watching Jungkook put her there as you bring some extra clothes for her just in case. 

You're out of his apartment in a record time, fully prepared as you shoo Jungkook and take the stroller. He walks beside you with a teasing smile, but there's a huge relief and content behind it. 

Jungkook's nerves are put at ease. 

Not only you but the situation proves to him that he can still go and eat out, even with a baby. Ruda has been like an angel. Once she's awake, she just stares around before she falls asleep shortly after. You feed her in a nearby park which slowly lullabies her to sleep.

After walking and getting to know each other's interests through stories, you find a nice restaurant where you can eat outside. It's not probably what Jungkook had planned but it has its own magic. 

Stroller kept next to you at all times, you fill up your stomach and even sleeping Ruda gets a few compliments along the way.

“Aw, what a cute baby! You have a very pretty baby.” The waitress tells you, beaming from a distance at sleeping Ruda, causing you both to smile.

None of you correct her. Why should you? She's a stranger and it doesn't matter what she thinks. You understand why she would think you're a family. It's a standard here. Nobody expects single dads out here. 

Well, not so single anymore. You hope.

“Thank you.” you smile at her in gratitude, eyes dropping to the sleeping angel that's next to you. Okay, maybe you appropriated Jungkook's daughter but he doesn't seem to mind. Actually, it seems like he's enjoying the sight in front of him.

“Your daughter is a star around here.” you tell Jungkook once the waitress is gone.

He chuckles, “Stealing my spotlight from birth.”

“Oh, she definitely helps you catch even more eyes.” you muse, watching him laugh in confusion. “Everyone's staring at you. All those women we walked past. They're thirsting over you.”

“Are you sure it's because of Ruda?”

You roll your eyes while grinning, “So cocky as usual.”

“What? I've always caught a female's gaze if that's what you were saying.”

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes again, “But there's something hot about a young hot dad. You're a DILF now.”

“Don't call me that.” he groans, causing you to laugh.

“Either way, it does bring you attention whether you like it or not.”

“Doesn't matter, I only like your attention,” he says. 

The two of you share a look as Jungkook cringes while laughing while you shriek in both excitement and disbelief. You probably look like a crazy couple. “That was smooth!”

He laughs, “I'm trying. I'm not romantic.”

“Are we having this conversation again?” You lift your brow. “Anyway, they can only look. You're on a date with me.”

It's a diplomatic way to say, aiming at something that hasn't been discussed yet. This is your first date after all. None of you have a certain plan. 

Yet, you're sure to admit that you don't like the attention Jungkook gets. 

“Does that make me your boyfriend?” he asks, tasting the way that words sound out of his mouth. 

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Hell yeah. If it means repelling all the men from you, I will be anything.”

You laugh, “You sound jealous.”

“Because I am,” he says, throwing a piece of sweet potato into his mouth. “I want you all to myself.”

“Hm, I'll think about it. Ruda has a place in my heart too.”

“I can share with her.” 

You both share a giggle together, something you've barely done before. 

“Does this make it official?” you question.

He shrugs, “If you want it to be. I know I do.”

“Me too,” you tell him giddily, sounding like an excited teenager. “I want to be your girlfriend.”

“Do people get together on a first date though?” he asks, finding you staring dumbfoundedly at him. “No, I'm serious. I really wanna know.”

You sit back, taking a sip of your drink. “Who cares? We kinda did it backwards anyway.”

“True,” Jungkook hums. “Who cares.”

Throughout those four hours of getting to know each other more, the connection between you grew some more. You've found out about Jungkook's secret hobby which is graphic art. It kind of explains the love for his tattoos as well. He's no longer just the boy that partied and fuck his way through his years. Actually, he's not that at all.

His guilty pleasure is eating snacks in the middle of the night, though he really tries to restrict himself from doing so. It's tougher to visit a gym these days, one of his obvious hobbies that you've already known. But he talked more about that and there wasn't a minute that it felt awkward or uncomfortable.

Ruda has been a pleasant company as well, her cuteness making both of you laugh and giggle. You were kind of bonding over her as well. Until it was starting to get darker and the two of you have decided to get back. 

On your way to the apartment complex, Ruda has pooped which proved your decision to go back to be right. Jungkook invites you to his place, not too keen on ending your date just yet and you agree. Though, you have to wake up early to pack your things and get ready for your cousin's birthday party, you don't want to leave them. 

You offer to take Ruda's nappy but Jungkook refuses, thinking it might be too much to ask of you but truly, you wouldn't mind. You try to tell him that but he just shakes his head, tells you to sit down and make yourself at home.

Shortly after, he comes back informing you that Ruda fell asleep. He joins you on the couch with what sounds like an exhausted sigh. The two of you share a look, both chuckling, silently of course because there's a baby sleeping in the other room. 

“Did you like it?” 

Jungkook fills up the momentary silence, voice slightly unsure and nervous.

He glances at you sideways, quickly looking away as he clears his throat.

“The date.”

“I did,” you giggle, nodding. “I really did. Thank you, it was very lovely.”

He allows himself to smile, mentally patting himself on his back for this going so smoothly. To be honest, he expected a disaster. It began like that, so he can't be blamed for expecting it to continue. But he's pleasantly surprised. 

Too happy about today. 

He feels like a freaking teenager and he gets this weird fluttering in his stomach. Urgh! He's not sure how he feels about it because it's new.

“Though you could've let me pay at least for the botanic park–or the museum.” you tell him, giving him a dirty but teasing look. 

You've really managed to visit many places Jungkook prepared for you. At first – which you're clueless about – he wasn't sure how to feel about it because he never went to a freaking museum. Maybe when he was on a school trip. It was totally involuntary, of course. But he caught himself enjoying it – and maybe it was because you were there – but he realized he doesn't mind enjoying himself, knowing it's because of you that he was able to. 

“No can do.” Jungkook shakes his head, teasing you some more which makes you groan. 

“I will pay next time.”

“Next time?” he teases, wiggling his brow.

“Aren't we dating now? It's what couples do, going on dates–”

“We are,” he hums. “What else do they do?”

You smirk, inching closer to him as you cuddle up to his side. He welcomes your touch, throwing his arm around you as he pulls you even closer while he doesn't take his eyes off you.

“They kiss,” you whisper, noses bumping into each other as you let your lips linger over his. Not quite kissing him but then it's too irresistible, he is, that in the end you press a soft kiss on his lips.

“They cuddle,” you continue, “Fuck.”

Jungkook chokes on his spit, “Don't say it like that.”

“Is Jeon Jungkook getting shy?” you tease, kissing his jaw. “You know a lot about fucking.”

“I–fuck–I do,” he agrees, voice sounding almost choked up. He tries to concentrate badly, he really does, but you're making it too hard when your kisses trail down his neck, making more parts of his body alive. “It just makes me–”

��What? Horny?” you tease and he groans.

“Well obviously,” he rolls his eyes, hands on your hips as you sit up and straddle his lap. “Wait–”

“Why?” you pause, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

“No, wait, wait, wait–” He quickly says as if he could read your thoughts. He can surely see the starting embarrassment and the way you pull away, putting distance between you. “I really want nothing else than fuck you.”

“But?”

Jungkook presses his lips together, “I wanna take it slow. Won't it ruin if we just fuck right now?”

You give him a look, slightly caught off guard. “Why would we? We've done it before multiple times.”

“Yeah, we did but… but it was different, you know?” he says and weirdly, you do know what he means. However– “I just don't want to fuck this up.”

Your eyes soften, taking Jungkook's face into your hands as you press a soft kiss to his lips. “You won't fuck this up, Jungkook.”

“You don't know that.” He frowns.

“Well, yeah. I meant it in a more encouraging way. You're trying and I can see that. I do appreciate it.” you confess to him, silently and softly as if saying it out loud will make it embarrassing. You're a little sheepish when it comes to confessing such things. Talking deeply and emotionally with him. “I personally don't think us having sex tonight will ruin anything. But if that's what you're worried about, we don't have to. What I wanna say with this is–I respect it.”

He watches you, eyes clouded with restraint and desire. Currently having an inner battle with himself, he sighs and leans his head back.

“Plus, I think it's cute.”

“Cute?” he deadpans, moving his head down to look at you. 

“You're cute,” you admit, giggling at the look of disgust on his face. “This really means something to you.”

“Does it not to you?”

You laugh, “Of course it does.”

He smiles, pulling you closer as he's the one who kisses you now. “Fuck, you're really making this hard.”

“Not just this.” you point out, wiggling your brows at him when you shift in his lap, feeling his hardening length under you.

“Stop!” he shrieks silently in horrification.

You giggle, “We could watch a movie instead. Or talk.”

He rubs his lips together, eyes dropping low. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. There's desire, lust and impatience clouding the air around you, just as much as it fills your gazes. Jungkook's eyes are the first ones to drop down your lips. Staring at them painted in a nice shade that compliments your skin tone. They're moisturized and never looked so tempting. He's not sure. He can't think straight right now. 

“Fuck movie.” he pants, grabbing you by your sides and pulling you onto him. 

The kiss is no longer soft and minimal, you both practically throw at each other letting your bodies act upon their biggest temptation. The making out is messy and fast, no longer staying at that as Jungkook lays you down and starts kissing you down your neck. 

“Fuck, that feels good.” you gasp, moaning when Jungkook lowers down your dress and starts sucking the skin on top of your breasts. 

You arch into his touch and warmth, craving for every inch of him. It leads you to become even more impatient, ushering him to take off his shirt. He does and you immediately salivate at his pecs and muscles, hands trailing down his back and abs.

“Fuck, almost forgot how hot you are.” you confess. Okay, that might be a lie. It's hard not to notice how Jungkook glows with hotness, even if there are traces of exhaustion every day. 

“Oh, you forgot?” Jungkook teases, “Should remind you.”

“Mhm, you should.”

And boy, he does. 

In a split second, the dress is ripped off you and thrown somewhere on the floor, underwear followed right after. You complain about Jungkook's upper body still dressed, though there's something incredibly sexy about him wearing slacks with chest on full display. It's almost too shameful that he turns you around, getting you on all four. 

Both of you go completely feral. The position making your ass arch as Jungkook delivers a slap to it. He stops for a second though, freezes and waits for any sound coming from his bedroom. You watch him relax as he continues, a little smile playing on your lips. 

You hear him unzipping his slacks, not wanting to get the sight stolen from you so you turn around and stare at the scene in front of you across your shoulder. He smirks, noticing you watching as he reaches toward his coffee table.

Once he pulls out a foil packet, you give him a look with raised brow. “How did it get there?”

“My wallet dropped the other day and someone rang the door, I panicked and put it there.”

You laugh at his story, wondering if he's telling the truth. He looks like it though and quite frankly, you don't care. 

“Turned out to be convenient.”

“It did, thanks to whoever rang that day.”

He smiles, not elaborating any further as he takes off his remaining clothes. You hear the familiar sound of foil ripping and before you know it, Jungkook's tip pokes you at your asscheek. 

You might be already impatient enough, both of you too hungry for one another, but you also know there is no time to fool around when you now have the chance to have sex. Any second Ruda could wake up and put an end to your and Jungkook's desire. Seems like he knows it too because he gives you an apologetic look.

“It's okay, just fuck me.” you assure him with a moan, arching your back for him. 

He spits on his fingers, stretching you out with them and you sigh in content at the feeling. Giving you a few pumps to make you at least somehow prepared for him, you whine his name in ushering him and silently telling him you'll be fine.

That's all it takes for him to enter you, both of you swallowing down any set of curses and sounds. Jungkook pulls back just for him to thrust into you. He finds a perfect rhythm, rocking your bodies fast and roughly.

Jungkook growls, “Holy shit.”

He slaps your ass, trying to keep it down as you both giggle in the middle of it. It's soon cut off by his thrusts you try to meet. Giggles get switched by silent moans and pleas. Everything is heated and rushed, both of you ultimately aiming to orgasm knowing it could get interrupted any minute. Keeping that in mind, you don't hold yourself back and neither does Jungkook.

Despite your situation, he does not refrain himself a few slaps to your ass which only brings you closer to the end. 

“Jungkook–”

“Fucking hell, I wish I could hear you moaning and screaming.”

You wish you had more time, though you don't regret it happening now. You wouldn't have it any other way. Thinking that you both would have to wait for each other sounds like a proper torture. 

“You're fucking creaming my cock–fuck.” he groans silently, seeming to have as much as struggle to keep it down. 

Still, it's kind of hot to experience it. You never had to keep it down. Sure, there were many times when you specifically had sex and tried to be silent because of neighbors. With Jungkook, you never cared about neighbors before. Not that much at least.

“Fuck–I'm almost–there.”

“Come for me.” Jungkook grunts, hands gripping your ass so much that you're sure there will be bruises tomorrow.

And you do. Not even five seconds later, you bury your face into his couch and let moans disappear into its material. Jungkook follows right after you, not being able to hold it for much longer as he comes inside the condom. 

He stays inside for a moment, softening slowly as he carefully helps you to turn around. He sits back on his knees, condom soiled by your cum and juices but none of you move. 

You stare at each other, smiles coming up at the same time as you silently giggle. 

This is the best date ever.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (very minimal), injury(very minimal), john not knowing how to handle certain situation.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3!! - part 4

-----------

That's when it started, the weird energy that set the scene for every interaction between the two of you. He couldn't help but start to see this so-called “tension” gaz had mentioned fulfill its way into your lives. Not only was it your beauty, it was the domesticity that settled in your relationship. You need that lightbulb in your room replaced, you politely knocked on his door, car troubles? Yeah John should know how to do that. But what scared him the most wasn't the attraction he felt towards you, it was your lack thereof. He never seemed to catch you sparing him any extra glances than were necessary. Unlike him he couldn't help but catch his greedy eyes secretly soaking in every inch of you when given the opportunity. 

But he couldn't be further than wrong 

Because at the opposite end of your home your mind seems to be obsessed with the thought of john. What a man he was. He must’ve been getting some back on base and you couldn't even be jealous, aroused though definitely. He's actually all 6 foot something of fine, absolutely climbable. But god does that man often look like he wants not a thing to do with you. Especially most recently you rarely even see him and when you do he barely speaks or spares you a glance.

—-----------------

“Hey, haven't seen you in awhile.” you surprise him extremely early in the kitchen one morning.

“Oh um good morning, I’m fine just been a bit busy. Why are you up so early?” He lies then quickly changes the topic knowing being awake during these hours of the morning  isn’t your forte.

“Scheduled a client for 6AM instead of 6PM and it's too late to cancel.'' He hums in response, willing himself to say something more but his mind comes up blank as it often does in your presence. 

So he leaves without a word and nothing in hand he just leaves. And you stand there absolutely thrown through the loop at the moment that you two just shared. 

—--------------

“We were doing great as roommates. You know I was comfortable and he seemed comfortable but now I swear that man avoids me like the plague.” you say to the longtime client in your chair.

“Maybe he’s just not social.” She chimes in, you concentrate while trying to part her hair before replying.

“I could see that being the case if he hadn’t been so social the previous two weeks you know, we’ve made meals in the kitchen together, watched television in the living room so I don’t understand what changed.” you say applying product to the sectioned hair.

“What if he doesn’t like you?” your hands pause for a second as you ponder the thought.

“Well I guess he doesn’t have to like me to live with me.” you say with very visibly discontent.

“But you on the other hand strive when people like you.” she replies, reading right through you.

“Well yeah I think anybody would.” you shrug.

“Not a military man who’s probably widely hated.” She's always right and you hate it.

“What's not to like about me?” you genuinely couldn't come up with an answer yourself.

“Are you a messy roommate or do you bother him a lot or do you nag him for his mess?” You can’t think of doing any of those but maybe asking for his help from time to time.

“I might be bothering him but nothing I would consider too much , just some help from time to time.” she laughs from her seat and you unenthusiastically spin the chair she's in to face you.

“Was it in the contract that he'd have to help you from ‘time to time’.'' You give her a quizzical look and she just continues.

“Men like to do the bare minimum and that's it. They hate being bothered. Take it from me. I'm married with three sons and they're all the same. Oh they have to do the dishes, sure, but will they dry them, or put them away? No, because that's not what I asked.” you hum understanding her point but still finding it hard to see john really feeling that way.

“So then I shouldn't ask him for anything and maybe he'll come around?” you ask in an unsure tone.

“yup.” she replies blunt, fast and very sure of herself.

—-----------

So you listened, this whole week you've not asked John for a thing which was pretty easy up until now. Your luck never fails to run out at the worst times. A flat tire in the middle of the road on your way home. You pull off to the side contemplating what to do as the sun is beginning to set and there's really only two options.

One, call John and ruin your streak of leaving him be. Two, call the car service company and pay their ridiculous prices to change the tire out. Of course you go with option two cause calling john seems to make you more nervous.

It takes 3 hours for the mechanic to get to where you are, change the tire, and point out other imperfections about your car that you pay no mind to. When you finally make it home you’re bothered, exhausted and broke.

John doesn't miss the unusualness of your late arrival but also doesn't question it, even though he wants to. Your groans of frustration echo through the hallway and he immediately can tell it was a bad day.

You change out of your work clothes and go into the kitchen for a snack as you do your daily phone call to your sister to tell her about the events of your day. John creeks his office door open to hear a little better but nothing noticeable. 

“He charged me six hundred dollars, I mean how is that even legal?” You complain into the phone that’s balanced between your neck and shoulder. 

“It was just my tire that was flat, nothing else.” you follow up while chewing on an apple. You swear you could cry by repeating that monstrosity.

John can't help but feel a bit confused and upset that you hadn't just called him instead of calling whatever dick that charged you that much for something so simple. Changing a tire is an easy 30 minutes that he definitely had on his hands especially for you. You had not hesitated asking for help before so what's changed now?

—-------------

“Okay, unscrew the old bulb and screw in the new bulb, very simple.” you reassure yourself as you stand on top of the tall ladder to replace the porch light. It’s icy outside and cold sweeps under your layers of clothes making your normally shaky hands shakier.

“Okay okay- damn it.” You drop the bulb that burnt out onto the floor watching the glass scatter.

You screw the new one in and step down, closing the latter with frustrated groan, then going to pick up the bigger shards to toss out before sweeping. You should’ve known that bulb glass was insanely thin and sharp but sometimes your brain leaves out the important stuff.

“Ow, fuck fuck fuck.” You cry out at the shard of glass that forms a long clean cut on your palm. You cry as you run into your home holding the cut tightly. Finding the sink you turn the water on and rinse it clean. Your ears don’t comprehend the loud footsteps that make their way towards the kitchen.

“What happened?” A deep voice sighs out behind you.

“Nothing.” Your hiccups escape involuntarily as it continues to bleed dramatically. You squeeze your eyes shut as it begins to burn more and more.

“Let me see.” He tries to grab at your hand genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, it’s just a cut.” You resist him by keeping your hand under the water.

“Cut from what?” he's a bit frustrated at your refusal of letting his trained mind and hands help.

“I was changing the light bulb outside and one broke.” you admit quietly.

“Why didn’t you ask me to do it?” once again what is with you no longer asking him for his very available help.

“Cause I can handle myself John.” You’re irritated at the obvious evidence that you cannot. Your non wounded hand rips a paper towel from the roll and you hold it to the cut to go bandage it in your room. 

You leave John standing in the kitchen and don’t even look back as you make your way to your room. He stays in that same spot for a second wondering where your random change in attitude is coming from but in the end he comes up blank and goes out to the porch to clean the rest of the glass up.

—----------

You feel terribly guilty when you wake up the next morning to see the porch swept clean and ladder put away from the previous night. You toughen up and put your big girl pants on to go apologize. You knock on his bedroom door and hear ruffling on the other side before he answers.

“hey john i'm really sorry for-” you stop noticing him dressed from head to toe in his military attire and damn.

“For what?” He takes notice of your pause and one up.

“For um the way I acted last night I know you were only trying to help and um why are you dressed like that?” You can’t help but question it.

“I have to go on base for a little bit, maybe a day or two. It shouldn't be too long but who knows, let me grab my check for you.” He walks back into his awfully clean room and grabs something out of a drawer and hands you a white envelope that consists of his monthly rent.

“Oh okay.” You can’t even hide the blush that laces between your features and although he notices it he can’t pinpoint the reasoning.

“Also don’t be sorry we all have our days and I shouldn’t have overstepped.” You nod in response not really knowing what to say. 

“Okay bye then I guess.” You awkwardly wave at him even though you stand mere inches away from his tall frame. 

“Bye doll.” He says before you walk away entirely thrown over whatever conversation that was.

----------------------

comments and reposts and appreicated <3

thankyou for all the love on this story so far.

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy

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[luveline]

hi honey bun! i was just having a thought about someone coming home after a night out, a little drunk and sleepy, just crawling into bed with the reader? n maybe trying not to wake her w cuddling and such? 🥺 im so indecisive and couldn’t choose between peter or one/poly marauders, but please also feel free to disregard if it’s not the one for you! kisses xx

Sirius tries to tell them to be quiet, but James is so drunk he’s going to wake up amnesiac and Remus isn’t far behind him. Sirius has a kinder buzz, opening and then closing the door for his idiots begrudgingly. “Shush. You’ll wake her.” 

“She should be awake I miss her so much I’m gonna throw up,” James says, all in one breath. 

“That might be the Guinness,” Remus laughs. His cheeks have gone pink. Sirius thinks it’s the cutest Remus has ever looked, and he gives him an affectionate smile that’s returned tenfold. 

“Be quiet,” Sirius says. A yawn comes suddenly. “Go sit down and have some toast or something.” 

“I definitely will throw up then,” James groans, bending over in the middle of the hallway. 

Remus, despite being similarly belligerent, starts doting on him. “You okay?” he asks, bending down with a similar sigh of pain. “Come on. I’ll make you a– a glass of water.” 

Sirius has spent the night with them, so he loves them, but he misses you too much to stay. He chucks his shoes vaguely in the direction of the shelf and starts up stairs. The walls move under his hand and the bedroom door proves hard to open, but he sees you and forgets that he’s drunk. You’re laying on your side curled into a pillow, arm curled around, one leg sticking out of the quilt. 

Sirius pulls the blanket back gently, remembers he’s wearing jeans, changes out of the jeans, and slides into bed in front of you. He slowly, slowly, pulls the pillow from your arms, wrapping his arm under yours and behind your back, the other just shy of your face. Beautiful girl, he thinks, a little woozy from having suddenly changed directions. 

You mumble and hug him weakly, fingertips tickling his side. 

“For fuck’s sake!” James says somewhere downstairs. “What is this?” 

“Water, Jamie,” Remus says, quieter. “You can’t have anything else, don’t be–” A sound and a laugh. “No, kissing me won’t change my mind.” More laughing. 

Sirius tugs your hand up to smile into your palm. 

“Home?” you mumble. 

“Mm,” he hums, eyes closed and heavy but his arm awake behind your back, pulling you closer to his front. “I told them to be quiet… didn’t listen.”

“You…” you’re still stuck in the throes of sleep, and forget you’re talking. Sirius laughs a huff and you blink. “Okay?” 

“Yeah. Everything was okay. Next time I’ll stay home with you,” he promises, rubbing his nose into your cheek. 

“I liked being alone for a bit, but… missed you in the end.” 

Footsteps start up the stairs. “Sorry for waking you up,” Sirius says. 

“S’okay. Make them be nice to me.” 

That’s easy. As the door begins to open, Sirius pulls you right into his chest, as close as you can possibly be, and shushes you gently. Remus’ laughing swiftly ends, and James says, “Oh no, what’s wrong?” in his softest tone. 

James climbs over the bed still in his shoes. Remus grabs him before they can touch the sheets and takes them off, and then James crawls up behind you and hugs you, Sirius’ arms included. “Hi… my angel.” 

You ignore him with a disgruntled whine. 

“Sorry we were so loud.” 

You whine again. 

“Do you want Remus instead?” 

“No. I don’t not want Remus,” you clarify. “I’m not mad at you. Stay here.” 

Remus falls rather drunkenly in behind Sirius, forcing everyone to move over. You look for him in the tangle of arms and blankets, everyone Sirius loves rammed into one bed and exhausted. 

“Is anyone in the mood for a kiss?” James asks.

“Too tired,” you mumble. 

“Too far away. Make it up to you in the morning,” Remus says into Sirius's shoulder. Sirius is having a hard time following the conversation, distracted by the smell of your perfume and all the skin pressed to his. 

James sighs forlornly. “Fine.” A pause. “Sirius?” 

He snores. 

[docholligay]

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[steddieas-shegoes]

scared to want you

for @steddie-week prompt 'exes to lovers'

rated m | 1021 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: post breakup, getting back together, idiots in love, platonic stobin

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

“Are you gonna stop staring at him anytime soon?” Robin’s voice asked loudly in his ear.

“Probably not,” Steve admitted. “He’s wearing my sweater.”

He saw Robin’s head whip around to look back at Eddie. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

It’s surprising to see Eddie here at all, let alone in Steve’s sweater. Eddie had moved back in with Wayne three months ago after an argument with Steve that led whatever they were to destruction.

Steve wanted more, Eddie had been afraid. Steve said he loved him, Eddie said he needed to leave.

Steve spent the last three months hurting. Eddie was wearing his sweater in public.

Everything was a little confusing right now.

“We should go, Steve.” Robin sounded angry now, and Steve loved her for it. She’d been the one to show up at his door a few hours after Eddie was gone and held him while he cried. She’d been there for weeks while he avoided everyone’s questions, went through the motions of being an adult while barely getting by. She had blocked Eddie on all of his social media and her own out of spite. “It doesn’t do you any good to sit here and pine after someone who hurt you.”

She was right, of course, but he couldn’t leave.

Eddie was wearing his sweater.

Eddie looked good in his sweater.

“Steve.”

Steve turned to Robin, who was smiling sadly back at him.

“I don’t think I can go without talking to him.”

Robin nodded once, always so understanding of Steve, supportive even when he didn’t always deserve it. She was the best, and he was about to piss her off.

“I’ll text you when I leave,” he said as he gave her a quick hug. She wouldn’t want to stick around to see what happens with this. “I’ll be fine.”

He wouldn’t, and she knew that, but she squeezed his hand in hers and left anyway.

Eddie hadn’t noticed him yet, or at least wasn’t acting like he had. He was standing at the bar talking to the bartender and a woman who walked in only a few minutes ago. Whatever he was talking about seemed serious, none of them smiling.

Steve walked up to the bar slowly, but with the sole purpose of talking to Eddie.

The bartender turned to him and smiled. “Hey, hon. You need another Sunrise, Sunset?”

Steve shook his head, but smiled at her. “No thanks, Kim. Just here to say hi to someone.”

When he turned towards Eddie, he was already looking back at him, biting his lip nervously.

“Hey, Eds.”

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Been a bit,” Steve swallowed. He didn’t actually know what he was trying to accomplish here. All he knew was there had to be a reason he was wearing Steve’s sweater. It wasn’t exactly his usual style. “Doing alright?”

The other woman seemed to catch onto what was going on, turning away and talking to the bartender instead.

“Um, yeah I guess.” Eddie was lying. Steve could always tell when he was lying. “You?”

“Been better,” Steve replied. “A little surprised to see you here. In that.”

Eddie looked down at what he was wearing and then up at Steve, cheeks red with embarrassment. “Laundry day.”

“Sure.” Steve sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. He just had to say something. Maybe closure would be good. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

Eddie nodded and started to walk to the back of the bar where the office and bathrooms were. Steve followed, assuming they’d go into the bathroom and hope no one came in. When Eddie led him into the office, Steve frowned.

“I don’t think we have permission to be in here.”

“I work here part time. Kim lets me take my breaks in here,” Eddie explained, closing the door behind them. “I didn’t know you liked this bar.”

“We’ve only been a few times,” Steve explained.

“Oh, you’ve um. You and your date?” Eddie was leaning against the desk, eyes cast down to his feet.

“No. Me and Robin.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath. “Right, good, yeah.”

“Eddie, look at me.” Steve stepped closer, could almost feel the heat coming off of Eddie’s body. Eddie looked up at him, eyes watery and bottom lip bitten red. “Why are you wearing my sweater?”

“I needed you.” Eddie’s broken voice was all Steve needed to close what little distance remained between them, pulling Eddie against him and holding him as tightly as he possibly could.

“I didn’t think you needed me anymore,” Steve said against his neck, trying not to get his hopes up despite Eddie’s tears now soaking his shirt. “You didn’t want me anymore.”

Eddie’s hands tightened in Steve’s shirt and Steve felt him shake his head. “I wanted you too much. I was scared how much I wanted you.”

“Are you still scared now?”

“Only that I don’t have you.”

Steve’s lips found Eddie’s, hopeful and desperate.

Eddie took control within seconds, turning them around so Steve was sitting on the corner of the desk, legs spread so Eddie could fit between them. Where he belonged.

As Eddie’s hands pushed Steve’s shirt up and Steve’s legs pulled him in impossibly closer, the thought that they were still in a public place occurred to Steve.

He ignored it as Eddie’s thumb brushed against his nipple and his teeth bit his bottom lip.

“Want you now,” Eddie groaned against Steve’s neck. “Want you forever.”

“Lock the door.” Steve ordered.

Eddie locked the door.

****

When they left the office, hair disheveled and suspicious stains on their shirts, they were met with a knowing look from Kim.

Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed Steve out the door by the small of his back.

“Still living with Wayne?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Could we go to yours?” Eddie asked hesitantly.

“Only if it can be ours.”

Eddie stopped him on the sidewalk, eyes blinking furiously. “You would want that? After I left?”

Steve smiled. “Are you gonna leave again or are you gonna let me love you?”

“You can still love me?”

“I couldn’t not love you.”

“Then let’s go to ours.”

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 1

"Champions of Europe"

Index | Chapter 2

Masterlist

“C’mom, go talk to her. Look at how miserable she looks.”

“Why don't you go talk to her?”

“Because she doesn't fancy me, Gavi” Ferran smirks.

“That's something the press made out.”

“Or not” Ferran shrugs. 

“If you don't go talk to her, I will.”

“Fermín, don't you have a girlfriend?” Gavi says.

“Yeah. And?”

“You can't go talk to the princess. That's cheating.”

“It's just talking, Gavi. Relax” he chuckles.

“Unless the press sees you and then boom! Fermín the Prince” Ferran laughs. 

“Fermín I of Spain. Sounds cool, I like it. What do you think, Pedri? Pedri?” he says, looking around for his teammate.

“Where is he going?” Ferran asks.

“He’s… Oh my God, he's walking towards the princess!” Gavi gasps.

“There he goes. Pedro I of Spain” Fermín chuckles

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And then it all had been a mistake!”

“That is so funny” my dad laughs. “Isn't it, Sofía?”

“So funny” I say with my best fake smile. 

Why am I stuck with a bunch of old men? This is a party to celebrate that Spain just won the Euros. I should be out there mingling with the young people, talking with the players and their families, getting to know them all a bit and properly congratulate them. But no. I'm stuck with a man telling us about his latest golfing trip to Scotland. 

“Something similar happened to me last time we went to Mallorca” my dad says, making me already disconnect from the conversation. I know which anecdote he is about to share. I probably already know it by heart just from hearing him telling about it to everyone he's met lately. So instead of listening to him, I start looking around.

There are some players dancing with their partners, others playing with their kids (which is the cutest thing ever), others are just chilling… And then, there is someone wearing red and a medal around his neck walking towards me. Or trying to. 

“Right, Sofía?” my dad says again.

“Yeah, yeah” I nod. 

One of the good things about him having told this anecdote so many times is that, by now, I also know when he asks for my support and how I have to react to it, what I have to say. Which comes very handy when your eyes are stuck on the guy smiling and standing in front of you, and who is currently moving his head to one side to make you follow him somewhere. 

“Dad, do you mind if I go get myself a refill?” I ask him.

“Yes, sure. But just beer.”

“Just beer, I promise” I smile before finally leaving the group of men and following Pedri. 

Oh, yes. Because the guy who had been smiling at me and asking me to follow him, was freaking Pedri González. 

“Ma’am” my bodyguard says behind me. “Are you going somewhere?”

Shit. Fuck. I had forgotten about him.

“I'm just going out to get some fresh air. I'm feeling a bit dizzy” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Alone?” he says, looking at the glass door that leads outside the room, Pedri waiting on the other side.

“I… Ummm… It'll be just five minutes.”

“Ma'am…”

“Five minutes, Carlos. It's not like he can kidnap me or something with his leg like that” I chuckle. 

“He cannot, no. But what about others? You are Spain's Princess.”

“But not the heir. No one cares about me.”

“Don't say that, ma'am.”

“It's the truth” I shrug. “Anyway, can I go outside for five minutes? Please? He may just want a photo for his mum.”

“Ok, fine” Carlos sighs. “But don't leave the building.”

“I won't, I promise” I smile before basically running towards the door. He may still regret letting me go.

Once outside, it takes me a moment to find Pedri. When I spot him, he is resting against one of the huge windows, checking the brace he has to wear on his knee. 

“Is it too uncomfortable?” I ask him as I walk towards him.

“Uh?” he says, looking up. And maybe, just maybe… I gasped when the lights from outside illuminated his face in all the right places.

“The brace. Is it uncomfortable?”

“A bit, yeah” he smiles. 

“I'm sorry about what happened.”

“Thank you” Pedri smiles again. “Though everything worked out in the end” he says, touching his medal. “Do you want to try it?”

“Oh, I, ummm…”

“Here” he says, taking it off before walking towards me and putting it around my neck, carefully untucking my hair so it doesn't get tangled with the strap. “Perfect. How does it feel?”

“Heavier than I expected” I chuckle.

“It can't be heavier than a crown” he laughs.

“I don't know. I've never tried on one.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. It's not like I'm gonna be the one who is gonna have to wear it. That's my sister, the heir.”

“But you still are a princess, aren't you? Don't all princesses wear crowns?”

“Nope. I may get to wear a tiara one day if I'm invited to a big event like a royal wedding or a reception for someone important, but other than that…”

“I'm sorry.”

“Oh, don't be. Sometimes being the second born that everyone forgets about actually comes with its perks. Like being here today, for example.”

“I thought it was because you liked football.”

“That too” I chuckle.

“And football players?” Pedri asks me. “Do you also like them?”

“What?”

“My friends were talking about you fancying Gavi.”

“That's my sister, not me.”

“Ha! I knew it! I knew it was her and not you. But they were so convinced they didn't want to listen to me.”

“I'm used to people mixing us, don't worry” I say while playing with the medal. “And I actually am more into dark haired guys than brunettes like him.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah” I shrug, still focused on the medal. 

“Anything else you like in your men?” 

“Why are you interested?” I ask him, looking up and at his face, a little smirk on his lips. 

“Just curious about how the future Prince of Spain could look like” he shrugs.

“Well… I like men with interesting noses.”

“What?” he laughs.

“Yeah… I don't know how to explain it. But if you look at the list of men I'm attracted to, famous or not, they all have that in common. Yours would actually make the cut.”

“My nose?” he laughs again.

“I… It is too weird, isn't it? Urgh” I say, covering my face with my hands. And that, my friends, is how you ruin things with the guy you are trying to flirt with. 

“No, no. Not at all. Is just that no one had complimented my nose before. Most girls talk about my lips.”

“Your lips?” 

“They say they were made to kiss and be kissed. What do you think?”

“What?” I say, still covering my face.

“Are my lips kissable or not, your royal highness?” Pedri says, his hands suddenly on mine, moving them away to rest at my sides. But he doesn't let go once they get there. He keeps holding them, his fingers playing with mine, his thumbs sometimes caressing my knuckles or the inside of my wrist and sending waves of heat all the way up my arms. 

“They are ok” I manage to say.

“Just ok? I think I'm gonna have to move closer so you can see them better” he says, closing the space between us a bit more. 

“They just look like lips” I shrug. But that's a lie. Because his lips do look made to kiss and be kissed.

“Maybe if we moved towards the light…” he says, his hands suddenly on my waist, moving me until my back is against the big window, the light once again hitting his face in all the right places. 

I knew Pedri was handsome, but this handsome? Wow.

“Better now?”

“Let me see…” I say as I move forward a little bit, the medal doing it with me and hitting his chest. We are so close right now… “Nothing. Just lips.”

“Well, if you can't see anything, I'll guess we'll have to try with a different sense. Like touch, for example.”

“What?”

“How does this feel, your royal highness?” he says, gently taking one of my hands and kissing it, the other still resting on my waist.

“You can start calling me ma'am now. Royal highness is just for the first time you address me.” And how I've managed to give him a protocol lesson while feeling my skin burn on the spot where his lips have been, will forever be a mystery.

“Ma'am sounds like something for someone old. What about my lady?”

“You could also call me by my name” I shrug. 

“We just met, my lady. Aren't you going too fast?” Pedri smirks.

“Me? Who is the one looking for a way to kiss me?” I smirk back.

“Busted” he laughs. 

“Though if you want to kiss me, you just have to ask.”

“Ok, then. May I kiss you… my lady?”

“You may” I whisper. 

“Thank you” he smiles. “But…” he says, stopping just as his lips brush against mine. “After I've done it, will you tell if my lips are made to kiss and be kissed?” 

“I will.”

“A princess must keep her promises.”

“I will, I promise. Now are you going to kiss me or not?”

“As my lady commands” he smirks before finally doing it and kissing me. Pedri… the Pedri… is kissing me. And it is… wow. Just wow. “And?” he whispers against my lips.

“I haven't told you to stop.”

“So bossy” he chuckes.

“Well, I am your princess, am I not?”

“You are, yes.”

“Then as your princess, I'm telling you, Pedri González, to keep kissing me.”

“With my lips made to kiss and be kissed?” 

“With your lips made to kiss and be kissed, yes” I say, making him smile before kissing me again and… Oh, my God.

I thought winning the Euros earlier had felt amazing, but I was wrong. Being kissed by him, and in the way he is right now, is what truly feels amazing. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I think this is yours” I say, giving Pedri his medal back.

“It looks better on you, tho.”

“Oh, stop it” I laugh, putting it around his neck, the place where my hands were resting not that long ago.

“It's the truth” he shrugs. “And do we seriously have to go back in there?” he says, nodding towards the party.

“We do, yes” I sigh. “But, we are meeting again tomorrow.”

“We are, yes. And you've promised me a tour of the palace. And a princess…”

“Keeps her promises” I smile.

“Exactly” Pedri smiles back. And we stay like that, just smiling like two idiots, until someone clears his throat behind us. Carlos, my bodyguard. “I think that's our cue to go inside.”

“I think it is, yes.”

“Do you think he will send the secret service after me if I kiss you one last time?” he whispers.

“There is nothing like trying” I shrug.

“Ok, then. Bro, look the other way!” he says to Carlos while I just laugh, his hands suddenly cupping my face before kissing me one last time. “No secret service?” he whispers, opening one eye. 

“No secret service.”

“Thank God” he sighs, making me laugh again. “Anyway… I should probably go in first, shouldn't I? Distract everyone with my limping so they won't look at you.”

“Oh, don't worry. No one looks at me, I'm the invisible princess.”

“Only someone blind would not look at you, my lady.”

“Thank you” I say, feeling my cheeks getting warm. We've been kissing and flirting, and him saying that is what finally makes me go shy. “But like I told you, I don't mind being invisible sometimes. This” I say, playing with the strap of his medal. “Would have not been possible if I was the heir. And the secret service would have definitely jumped at you the moment you got too close.”

“Lucky me, then” Pedri smiles.

“Lucky us” I smile back. “Now go. I can see Carlos getting impatient.”

“Urgh, fine… See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Ok. Good night, my lady” he says, kissing my cheek.

“Good night, sir” I giggle as I watch him walk back into the party, laughing one more time when he turns around to look at me and blows me a kiss.

“Feeling better, ma'am?” Carlos says behind me.

“Much better” I smile. 

“Then I'm sorry about what I'm about to tell you, ma'am.”

“What?” I say, turning around to look at him.

“It's about him, about Pedri. Something I heard his friends talking about when I went back inside to give you some… privacy.”

“Carlos, you are starting to worry me.”

“I… I'm sorry, ma'am.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

The next day…

“My lady.”

“Pedri.”

“I wasn't expecting to be offered croquetas at the royal palace” he chuckles, nodding at the table in front of us.

“Yeah, well.”

“When we met earlier it was kind of awkward, wasn't it? Shaking hands with your parents and your sister, acting as if we didn't know each other and nothing had happened last night…”

“Did something happen last night?” I ask, eating an olive and finally looking at him. “Besides you winning the Euros, I mean.”

“We… you… what?” he says with a confused look.

“I don't remember anything important happening” I shrug.

“You don't… Oh. Oh, I get it. You are teasing me because out here someone could hear us” Pedri says, looking around at his teammates. After meeting the whole team inside the palace, we are now in the gardens, everyone chatting, having a drink and relaxing before they have to go to Cibeles to celebrate.

“I'm not teasing you, Pedri. I don't remember anything” I shrug again. “Wait, no. I do remember one thing” I say, moving forward. “That you are a dick” I whisper in his ear before walking away.

“That I'm what? What are you talking about?” he says before following me. 

“Is your hearing also injured?”

“My hearing is perfect, my lady” he says, struggling to keep up with me. “What I don't understand is why.”

“Why what?” I say, suddenly stopping. We've walked away from where everyone else is, kind of hidden behind some bushes.

“Why are you calling me a dick? What did I do?”

“Do you seriously have to ask?” I laugh.

“Yeah.”

“I can't believe it” I laugh again. “You fucking used me, Pedri!”

“What?”

“You used me to have a laugh with your friends! You made a bet with them to see who could get a kiss from me first!”

“What?” he says again, looking more and more confused by the second.

“Carlos heard them talking about it, so don't you dare try to deny it. I'm sure you all had a laugh this morning when you told them everything that happened between us.”

“We don't… I…”

“I was an easy target, wasn't I? The poor princess that no one looks at, the one who always is in the shadow of her sister, who always is the second option. I'm sure you felt so proud when you told them how easily I fell for your charms, how stupid I was. But not anymore, you hear me. Not anymore.”

“That's not what happened” Pedri says, grabbing me by the arm when I try to walk away, earning himself a even more deadly look than the ones I was already giving him. “Sorry. I'm sorry” he says, letting go. “But please let me explain myself.”

“Why? Why would I do that? You manipulated me once, you could do it again. I am that stupid.”

“You aren't stupid, and I didn't manipulate you. I…” he says, running a hand through his hair. “The boys were talking about who could get you out of your misery, that's true. We were watching you talking with your dad and those men, and you looked so… Bored. Like you wished to be anywhere but there. But I wasn't part of it, I swear. I actually was getting mad while listening to them and the way they were talking about you. So before any of them found the guts to go talk to you just for fun, I did it myself. Not the go talking with you for fun part. The one about finding the guts to go talk to you. Because I… I have a bit of a crush on you.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Yeah” he says, nervously touching his cheek. A cheek that had turned almost as red as his Spain's shirt. “Here, look” he says, taking his phone out of his pocket. “I have proof.”

“Proof of what? You being an idiot?”

“An idiot for you, yes” he says, showing me what he had been looking for on his phone. “It's a WhatsApp conversation I had with my brother yesterday before the game when it was announced that you were attending. You can check the date and the time, it isn't fake.”

Your girlfriend is gonna be at the game tonight 🤭 If you win she may give you a kiss 😚 Instead of Casillas and Sara Carbonero, Pedri and the princess ⚽👸🏻👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 

“This… This means nothing” I say, giving him his phone back. 

“I can show you more messages from him teasing me about it. Look.”

People are shipping Gavi with the princess after the game 😂 Maybe he could introduce you to her little sister 😏 Gavi king and you prince 😂

“I… Pedri…”

“Everything that happened last night was real. I swear it” he says. “I didn't kiss you because of a bet with my friends. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I like you.”

“You don't know me. Like, you barely know anything about me, only what the press publishes.”

“I know enough. Because to me” he says, taking one of my hands on his, his thumb caressing my knuckles like he had last night. “To me you aren't invisible or someone's shadow. To me, you shine brighter than anyone else. King, queen, heir to the throne or whatever.”

“That's so cheesy” I chuckle.

“But the truth.”

“Pedri, I…” I say, meeting his eyes. He isn't lying. Everything he's said about kissing me because he wanted to and not because of a bet, about liking me, about me not being the invisible princess I always believe myself to be… All that is true. I can see it in his face, on his blushed cheeks, in his eyes. He is being honest about it all. “I believe you.”

“You… You do?”

“I do” I nod.

“Thank God” he sighs. “I thought any moment now you would call the secret service and they would send me to… Where do they send people when they arrest them?”

“Can't tell you. It is the secret service for a reason” I wink.

“Makes sense” he chuckles. “But does this mean that I am not a dick anymore or…?” he says, closing the space between us a bit.

“Well… There is something you could do to make me completely forget about it” I say, also moving closer towards him.

“Something like what?” he asks, his other hand finding mine, now both his thumb caressing my skin, bringing back the waves of heat I felt last night. 

“You could kiss me with those lips of yours” I smirk.

“Here?” he says, looking around. “What if someone comes this way and sees us? Like someone from the team, your dad or… your mum. Your mum is quite scary, you know?”

“Oh, I know” I laugh. “But if we move over here…” I say, walking us behind a big tree, my back against it. “No one will see us. We'll be… invisible” I smile.

“You are anything but invisible, my lady” Pedri smiles back, his hands letting go of mine and moving to rest on my waist.

“Then show me” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“Will you then give me a tour of the palace? You promised it last night, and a princess…”

“Keps her promises, I know.”

“Exactly” he smirks.

“First we kiss, then we do the tour. But just so you know, Carlos will probably join us.”

“Wait, is he here?” Pedri says, looking around, his eyes wide.

“He may be hiding behind a bush, yes” I laugh.

“Shit. If he sees together after what he heard last night…”

“I'll explain everything to him, don't worry. But if you are being serious about getting to know me…”

“Deadly.”

“Then you better start getting used to his presence.”

“I think I can do that. Because you” he says, brushing his nose against mine and making me giggle. “Are worth it, my lady. So worth it” Pedri says before finally kissing me again, making me feel what he has been telling me since we met: that I'm not just someone's shadow, a second option. That I am not the invisible princess anymore. 

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | y’all accidentally adopt a kid

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; parenthood (?), mentions of violence

♡notes; i work with toddlers all day yet still somehow get baby fever- so here’s this i guess lol.

i can’t see Brahms as a dad so skipped out on him this time, Vincent is iffy too but we might come back to him

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> micheal never wanted to be a father before he met you

> he knows for a fact he has something terribly wrong with him

> and while it never bothered him…it was far too dangerous to pass on

> but the way you light up when little kids on the street wave to you

> how you talked about building a family when you got drunk and sappy

> and how soft and gentle you were holding your friend’s baby…

> he knew you’d be the perfect parent, good enough to balance any bullshit he was bring to the table

> so it’s maybe not a complete accident when he stalks into the house with a banged up stroller out front

> the baby is crying, his parents passed out from some shit they snorted in the living room

> it makes his job easier when he slits their throats, and he’s sure as hell not sympathetic

> not that he ever is

> he follows the cries upstairs- a tiny little boy is wailing in his crib

> but he stops and stares at Micheal, blue eyes wide as he looms in the door

> at first Micheal thinks the racket it going to start again and braces for the scream

> but the boy reaches for him eagerly instead, making grabby hands and squealing

> it takes a bit of snooping but Micheal finds some paperwork after he’s secured the child in a carrier

> Miles. The boy’s name is Miles, and he’s ten months old- just tiny for his age

> you think he’s fucking with you when he sets a baby carrier on your table that night

> “…that’s Miles.” He mutters and walks away

> you’re pissed but you can’t say you have anything but an urge to protect this tiny boy

> he has red hair, and light freckles and the sweetest disposition

> he’s perfect, surely Micheal wouldn’t just steal a child…not without good reason

> and you notice Micheal still lingering, watching you both

> you try not to smile

> “…well. Gonna help me find somewhere he can sleep or not?”

Thomas Hewitt

> when Charlie brings in the little girl, Luda Mae is beyond excited

> she had no idea the couple she’d sent down their road had a baby

> her dark curls and chubby legs and ruddy pink cheeks remind her so much of Thomas at that age too

> not too far off from one if she’s got it right

> she’s thinking selfishly, she’s always wanted a daughter

> but Thomas’ eyes go so wide when you both walk in

> he’s in awe of the tiny lil thing sleeping against his mama’s shoulder

> he won’t hold her, terrified of hurting her

> but you’re eager to take her for a bit and he gets real close, chin hooked on your shoulder so he can inspect her closely

> she’s all giggles as she touches his mask

> and you’re nearly in tears when she snuggles up against you

> “…yknow…i’ve been thinkin. i’m much closer to grandmama age than mama age now”

> you say yes before Luda can finish her ask - there was nothing you wanted more than a child with Thomas

> he’s hesitant, but he already adores her

> you have no way of knowing her name, so what you should call her is a bit of a hot topic for a few days

> Charlie wants to name her Charlotte because he’s a self centered bastard , and Luda Mae has about a thousand suggestions that come from baby books decades older than you

> but you let Thomas decide

> Audrey Mae Hewitt is what he chooses

> Audrey from a book he read

> Mae from his mama

> and it suits her perfectly

Bubba Sawyer

> “hey cook! look what i got!”

> Drayton about beats Choptop in the plate when he sees him carrying a toddler under his arm like a log

> but he’s kind of impressed such a scrawny dirtbag can carry a chunky kid like that

> the little boy is a healthy weight for two or so, with lil chipmunk cheeks that dimple when he grins

> and the cutest damn mullet you’ll ever see

> Drayton is getting too damn old for this, and there’s only one person he trusts even a minuscule amount in the house

> so he just. hands him to you when you walk into the front room

> “congratulations, it’s a boy”

> you’re confused but excited

> and a bit concerned with how he and Bubba will feel once the man gets home

> a kid is a big commitment- and a man that wears people’s faces can be scary

> but Bubba immediately squeals and beelines for the little one when he staggers in

> they both tilt their heads curiously before the boy tries to climb up his leg

> when he picks him up, the boy gives a huge belly laugh, kicking his legs

> you choose his name- politely declining your boyfriend’s brothers’ insistence on Lil Choppy or Drayton II

> Jedediah Junior sounds perfect to you - little JJ

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse - Part 2

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Overwhelmed, you seek a moment of solitude on your sister's wedding day at the garden, but you can't even have that thanks to your sister's now brother-in-law, Miguel. Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: use of y/n; no name for your sister still (I think we're just going to go with a nickname); some cussing; alcohol consumption; pesky aunts and a divorced man offer unsolicited opinions; some Spanish but translations are provided in text; a bit of arguing; suggestive content, so MDNI, please!; reader is fluent in Spanish; I think that's all A/N: hiiii, finally updating this after two months 🫠 But anyway, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @lauraolar14 for the amazing fanart she made from part 1!! Found here ! Thank you, Lara!! 🥰 Pls go and support her!! Masterlist | Spotify Previous Part

You down a glass with water and place it on a tray just as a waiter offers you another drink. You politely decline before letting your gaze wander around the elegant venue your sister and Gabriel chose for the reception, thinking how it’s truly beautiful and perfect for the wedding they both envisioned.

Your eyes eventually land on the newlyweds as they dance, a smile tugging at your lips. They’ve been dancing nonstop since their first dance, which means their feet will likely be sore tomorrow. However, by tomorrow afternoon they should be in their honeymoon destination, relaxing from the last couple of days of last minute wedding shenanigans and basking in their newlywed energy.

“Aww, sweetie,” someone says, ripping your attention from your sister and now brother-in-law. It’s one of your aunts. You offer a polite smile as she approaches, your gut warning you about her intentions. “Look at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Look at me…?” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“This must be so hard for you,” your aunt says, taking your arm and holding it, with a sad tone that matches the frown on her face.

You hold back from sighing in annoyance, recognizing where this is going. You’ve heard it twice already from two other aunts.

“Not really. I know she’s the baby of the family, but well, we all grow up, right?” you reply, forcing a smile. You hope your words will deter your aunt from explaining what she truly means, but unfortunately for you, it doesn’t.

“Aw, not that, sweetie. I mean, yes, but I was referring to how hard it must be for you as the eldest. Seeing your younger sister get married before you - it must be so hard. You should’ve been married by now, maybe with a little toddler at your side. Instead, you’ve found yourself witnessing your younger sister marry first, and who knows, maybe pregnant in a few months, but cheer up, sweetie. Don’t let this make you feel less, okay? Sometimes… Not everyone has the pleasure of marrying and experiencing motherhood, but that’s alright. I’m sure you have other… things that bring happiness to you, like… your job?” your aunt says, giving your arm what she thinks is a reassuring squeeze, but is rather an uncomfortable one. On top of that, she’s delivering another jab at you she doesn’t even know she’s making. “I’m sure that brings a lot of satisfaction to you.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” you force yourself to say with a fake smile that seems to go past your aunt. You silently pray she leaves you alone and that this is the last time you have to hear the same “comforting” and “reassuring” words for the night. You hope so, or you’ll slap someone. Mentally, of course. You’d never cause any kind of commotion publicly, much less at your sister’s wedding when you care so deeply about her and Gabriel. Besides, that’d give the people a field day and fill their minds with thoughts of you being “jealous” or “resentful” about your sister marrying before you.

Thankfully, your aunt leaves, off to offer more unsolicited advice and words of comfort, probably.

“Mierda [shit],” you sigh just as you hear a man somewhere behind you.

“Ah, Miguel! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Working all the time, huh?”

Subtly, you glance behind you at the man’s words. You didn’t even know Miguel was nearby, but now knowing he is, you wonder if he heard your aunt. You hope he didn’t as the last thing you want is Miguel to think you were looking at the newlyweds with jealously and that that was the reason your aunt felt the need to provide those “reassuring” words.

“Yes, yes. I stay busy working,” you hear Miguel reply.

“Good for you. And you’re still single?” the man asks.

“Si. No tengo pareja [Yes. I don’t have a partner],” Miguel replies, a hint of humor in his tone.

“That’s good, that’s good! No plans of marriage in sight for you. It’s better that way. You can spend your money how you want to, no children involved, no woman bothering you about grand gestures, or making you spend money. Enjoy your youth, have your fun. Maybe later on, you can settle down.”

You continue to watch the people on the dance floor, but you can’t help but scoff to yourself at the difference.

Your aunt was just pitying you about not being married and having children, but Miguel is being celebrated for the same thing by this man when he’s a few years older than you. You grab a glass from a waiter’s tray, thanking him. “I need one, or two after the crap I’m hearing,” you murmur to yourself as he walks away.

“You think so?” Miguel asks. “At my age, people think I ought to be married. Maybe with a kid or two.”

“No, no. Trust me, it’s better. That’s why I divorced.”

“I thought it was your wife who divorced you,” Miguel says gently. Despite the gentleness, Miguel’s words tear down the man’s attempt to make it seem like he had been the one to make the decision, and had you been watching Miguel, you would’ve noticed his raised brow to go along with it.

“Ah - well. Yes… But who cares? I’m divorced and free. I’m doing better than I was.” The man laughs. “I’m doing so, so, so great...” he says trailing off before chugging down some alcohol, a sign of a man who is most definitely doing great.

You roll your eyes. God bless that woman, she made the right choice divorcing the idiot behind you.

“Yeah, well…” you hear Miguel start. “I guess marriage is not for everyone. I’m not going to say it’s not for me, though. Who knows? Maybe one day a woman catches my attention.”

“You’ll be a miserable man, trust me. Don’t let any woman lure you into the marriage trap. You’re too young. Enjoy your youth. Go on dates. Have fun, if you know what I mean,” the man says, using a tone that leaves no doubt about what he’s referring to.

You decide you’ve heard enough, so you walk away, glass in hand. You glance at your sister and Gabriel from the sidelines of the dance floor, still dancing and lost in their own little and magical bubble. The sight brings a smile to your face once more before you turn, seeking a moment to yourself.

You step out of the venue, sighing deeply as you walk into a garden area where photos were taken earlier in the day. You briefly recall the photo session and how you were forced to take some photographs with the groom’s best man, who looked equally displeased to stand next to you, the maid of honor. You stood next to each other, stiff as surf boards and hands clasped in front of you with the most serious faces.

“This is the most scoffs, eye rolls, and scowls I’ve ever seen in a photo shoot. C’mon, guys! You’re the maid of honor and the best man. And -” Arturo, the cameraman, paused, walking closer. “Respective eldest siblings to the bride and groom. You should be acting like - a family. Here, let’s just move a little closer,” he said, finding it easier to move you instead of Miguel, and moving you closer to him.

You stiffened even more at that and Miguel scoffed at the way you were acting, like he had some incurable disease.

“You, too, señor [sir]. Please step closer,” Arturo gently demanded.

That earned Arturo a scoff and a glare.

“Yeah, O’Hara. Move closer and stop wasting time,” you added, innocently.

“Thank you, señorita [miss],” Arturo replied happily, believing he had at least turned your attitude around when in reality, you were simply taking the opportunity to poke fun at Miguel. It was the only way to make the photo session bearable.

With an eye roll, Miguel stepped closer until his arm brushed against yours. “Better?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Better,” Arturo confirmed. “Though…” he trailed off, frowning.

“You look like a three-day old piece of bolillo [savory bread in MX + other Latin countries],” you said all too seriously. “Stiff.”

Arturo, bless his heart, turned away and attempted to hide his shock.

With a poker face, you turned to look at Miguel and found a scowl, his eyes on you already.

“A three-day old piece of bolillo?” he repeated, annoyance dripping from his mouth. “And what are you? A fresh, sweet, soft piece of cortadillo [a kind of pan dulce; Mexican pastry], I suppose?”

You snorted at that. “I’m flattered you think of me like that. Cortadillo is so good,” you replied, smirking softly.

“Dios mio [my God], I’m just trying to do my job and those two are talking about pan dulce [Mexican pastries],” Arturo complained from somewhere, thinking he was quiet enough that he wasn’t going to be heard, but he was.

Miguel and you stared at each other as the cameraman’s words of frustration rang in your heads. You held each other’s gazes and as much as you both wanted to keep the glares and scowls, Arturo made both of you smile and then burst into quiet laughter.

In the end, Arturo got his opportunity with that moment of laughter and managed to capture the best man and maid of honor smiling in each other’s presence before you both ran off to get other duties done once the photographs were done.

You shake your head from the memory and look up at the garden lights hanging over you, giving the area a whimsical look, before you walk further away from the door and into a less well-lit area.

You sigh deeply again, something you’ve found yourself doing too much lately. The comments from your pesky aunts and the conversation you overheard have caused you some irritation, but it’s not just that. You’ve been trying to ignore a problem that’s been weighting on you all day. You’ve tried not to let it dampen your mood, today being your sister’s wedding, and you had succeeded until now. On a normal day, those conversations with your aunts and the man’s words to Miguel would’ve mattered little to you, but with the big issue in your life right now, they’ve managed to put you in a bad mood.

The big issue?

You were forced to resign from your job two days ago, leaving you unemployed.

It wasn’t anything that you did, but rather what you refused to do that led to the decision. You grimace in disgust just thinking about it all over again. You started working at the company two years ago and everything was great with you rising up the ranks quickly due to your hard work and determination, but as you rose higher and higher, you were warned.

You were told to be cautious of your boss and his wandering hands. You did your best to avoid him on your own and always kept a professional attitude to set clear boundaries. Foolishly, you thought you were safe with two years in and no impropriety on your boss’s side, but you were wrong.

Two days ago, he cornered you in his office to make his move. Of course, you made it known you weren’t interested nor willing to do anything beyond what is professional. Even when you were promised a promotion if you “played” the game, you refused - something that angered your boss. Apparently, the disgusting man believed you’d accept his advances. Despite taking it to HR, nothing was done because of the position and status your boss holds within the company. You knew then that you needed to leave the company, so you did.

You don’t regret it. You’ll never give yourself away like that to some disgusting and horrible man, even if you’re unemployed now.

However, you don’t look forward to job searching and all that it entails. Thinking about it makes you feel stressed and even some anxiety. Then, there’s also the words from your ex-boss, his promise to make it hard for you to find a job within your field.

You wonder. Surely he doesn’t have that much power, right?

You hope not.

You down the rest of the drink, briefly thinking about how you should probably stop drinking by now, but the unexpected change, one you’re carrying on your own because you refused to tell your family about it with the wedding coming up, is weighing heavily on you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door open, follow by footsteps. You recognize it’s not a woman’s, at least you don’t think so since there’s no sounds of heels, but either way, you can’t help but feel annoyed that someone has stepped out and taken your small moment of solitude. You just wanted a moment to yourself, but it seems that whoever stepped out, decided otherwise.

“Ah, you’re here, too?”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face Miguel O’Hara. Of course, it had to be him of all people.

Miguel stands a few feet from the door, hands inside the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants while staring at you. For some reason, your annoyance grows at the way it hugs him in what women would say the “right way,” which you’re certain many women did comment on tonight, considering you caught many staring at him like he’s a piece of candy. You’re sure many are probably having little fantasies of him now; recalling how tall he is for a Mexican man, his wide shoulders only enhanced by his suit jacket, and the way his hair frames his chiseled face so well like God himself styled it for him.

And if they shook his hand, they may be thinking about how large and warm it was, how it felt against their own.

There may even be some women imagining making their parents suegros [parents-in-laws] and planning some elaborate wedding in their heads, thinking the bride today will be like a sister to them.

“Yes,” you simply reply, turning away again and making it known you don’t wish to talk. He can stay over there, on his own little spot, and let you be over here, unbothered.

“Needed some fresh air?”

Great.

“Yes.”

Miguel snorts, decreasing the distance between you. He’s still not in your space, but he’s significantly closer now. “One-word answers. You must be having a night.”

You don’t reply. Maybe if you don’t he’ll go back inside, but with your luck recently, doubtful.

“Did the comments from your aunts get to you?” he asks suddenly when you say nothing else.

“What comments?”

“You know very well which ones. I happened to be there, you know. When the first aunt went over, the second one, and then, the third and last one.”

You scoff. “Didn’t know you were a chismoso [gossiper; masculine noun].”

Miguel snorts again. “It’s not my fault they talk so loudly and I happened to be there.”

True on the talking too loud, but you still wish he hadn’t heard, just like you wish you hadn’t heard him being celebrated for the same things you were being pitied on.

“Right, and are you here to offer words of comfort, too?” you reply in a snappy tone. “Or, are you out here to celebrate how you were recommended to stay clear from commitment by your friend?”

Miguel scoffs. You really think he’s that kind of man?

“If you heard the conversation, surely you heard what I said,” he replies defensively turning his body to face you now. “I don’t agree with that mindset.”

“You know -” you step back and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second. “I don’t care. Can you just - leave me alone?” you snap, stepping away. You don’t care about the topic anyway, it’s not the reason why you’re truly upset. Miguel O’Hara can do whatever he wants with his life and your aunts can nag and pity you, you don’t care. What you care about is the fact you lost your job the way you did and that now you’re unemployed.

“No,” Miguel says, upset. “I’m not. You seem to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Just because we’ve never been two to get along. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I don’t care what kind of man you are. This isn’t about you.”

Miguel steps forward, his body brushing against your arm making you turn to face him, too. You glare at him.

“This isn’t about me, but I’m receiving the brunt of your anger.”

“I’m not angry about what you think I am, alright? I could care less what my aunts said, what that man said to you, though it’s unfair, but it’s not what’s on my mind. So, do me a favor and drop it. Leave me alone. You’re not the center of my world,” you reply with a scoff before turning away from him.

“What a shame,” Miguel murmurs following you. He grabs your arm and pulls you back, his hand wrapping around your flesh with enough force to keep you still without hurting you. “¿Que te pasa [what’s the matter]? Why are you so upset if it’s not that, then?”

You tug at your arm, a fruitless attempt to free yourself since Miguel doesn’t let go.

“Answer the question,” he demands, those deep brown eyes looking straight at you.

“It’s none of your business,” you answer, still glaring at Miguel.

He scoffs, holding your gaze as you look at him like he’s the most disgusting thing your eyes could ever lay upon.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, his grip tightening around your arm slightly, tugging you closer to him. With narrowed eyes, he holds your gaze for a few seconds before images of your lips flash in his mind from the dance lessons.

He had never been that close to you before, never held nor touched you.

Miguel had never noticed the way your eyelashes framed your eyes, the shape of your lips, nor had he ever noticed your scent, a mixture of your very own essence and perfume. It’s the kind of scent that makes a man weak in the knees and wish for a closer inhale. No, Miguel had never noticed those things about you and it was to his great annoyance that not only had he noted them, but that those details had also made him feel weird afterwards.

Miguel felt so off that he had to make up the excuse about having a call to make. In reality, all he did was step out and take some fresh air, his mind boggled with the entire situation from the comments the dance instructor made about the two of you being in love and sharing passion to his little stunt after your two left feet comment and your payback, which left an ache on his foot, to the details he had never noticed about you. His mind was boggled and yet, you were the same as always with him; annoyed by, distant from, and uninterested in him.

And for some reason, it bothered him that day.

When he went back inside, he found you on the other side of the dance studio, looking closely at the couple and offering some advice to help them, ignoring his presence. Even when the four of you met up at the parking lot once again after the dance lesson, your attitude was the same. Your sister and Gabriel asked if either of you were interesting in grabbing something to eat, but you declined so fast and stated you had other things to do before the wedding, “maid of honor duties” you called them.

He watched with a scowl as you got in your car and left, only having said bye to the couple while barely giving him a glance of acknowledgement despite the conversation you had just had about making things work for the sake of your sister and Gabriel.

Of course, Miguel declined the invitation, too. He was in no mood to be third wheeling and he did have some things to do for work, so he, too, left with thoughts of your annoying self on his mind.

He eventually placated his thoughts with work, including dealing with his team and the fact that his current assistant put in their four weeks. Thankfully, he still has some time left before his assistant leaves, which he hopes is enough time to find someone to fill in the position. Either way, his work helped him set his thoughts about you aside that day.

Now, Miguel pushes past his thoughts and focuses on you, still holding your arm.

“And what of it?” you reply to his comment about you being a brat, still glaring at him so fiercely and angrily about whatever you’re upset about, proving Miguel you can be such a brat sometimes.

For two seconds Miguel has a thought - bending you over his knee and teaching you a lesson to tame that bratty attitude of yours. Then, his brain betrays him and he imagines what you’d sound like if he did. Would you still be a little brat when his heavy palm makes contact with your rear, or would you whimper and -

“You’re so upset,” Miguel says in an almost breathless way, his mind blanking for a second. “If it’s not your aunts’ comments, then what is it? It must be something of importance, if it has you like this on your sister’s wedding day,” Miguel adds, trying to focus on the moment at hand and not on whatever the hell his brain is going on about. He decides, quickly, that he’s probably had a few too many tequila shots. That’s probably why his brain is acting up. Surely.

“As I said earlier, it’s none of your business,” you reply, once again trying to free your arm, but to no avail. The giant man has you rooted to his side.

“Bullshit,” Miguel replies. His brother married into your family and your sister into his, that makes the two of you something now, doesn’t it? You’re tied for life now, for better or worse, in this way thanks to your siblings. And, the two of you did agree to get along for their sake.

“No te metas en lo que no te importa [don’t get involved in what doesn’t bother you],” you snap. “Mind your business. We may have agreed to be civil, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be besties.”

“As if, princesita [little princess],” Miguel responds with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be able to take your little attitude for two hours, even if I was paid, much less be ‘besties’ with you.”

“We have that in common, at least. I wouldn’t spend a day with you, even for a million dollars,” you reply, even though you could really use a million dollars, especially now.

Miguel smirks, amused by your response, and pulls you closer. “Not even if I paid you two million?”

“Not even five.”

Lies, lies, lies. You wouldn’t be worrying about being unemployed if you had even just one million dollars in the bank right now.

Miguel shrugs. “Maybe it’s too little, they’re little numbers after all,” he replies with a cocky smirk, for some reason bragging about his wealth to you now, something he’s never done before to anyone, but then again, his brain is not working accordingly right now.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. You know Miguel is a CEO for a company you’ve never bothered to learn the name of, so you’re not surprised he has money, but saying five million dollars is “too little” is aggravating, and kind of shocking.

“Whatever, let go of me. Now,” you demand.

Miguel now scoffs at your demanding tone as if he couldn’t easily throw you over his shoulder and carry you off, or pin you against a wall.

“¿Qué tal si te digo que no? ¿Qué vas a hacer entonces, princesita? [What if I tell you no? What are you doing then, princess?]” Miguel replies, pulling you closer, so much closer his expensive cologne surrounds you.

You breathe it in, subtly of course. It’s rich, warm, and woody mixed in with his own scent. It’s the kind that sends a pool of warmth to your very core if allowed to inhale straight from a man’s neck with your nose pressed to his sensitive and warm flesh. You freeze for a second, the very thought almost makes you grimace, the fact that you’ve thought of such thing with Miguel of all men.

“You’re gonna slam your foot on mine again like the other day?” he asks mockingly, bringing you back to your senses.

“And mess your pretty, expensive shoes?”

Miguel snorts. “I can easily replace them.”

“So, you want me to slam my foot on yours? Is that what you’re saying?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel grins, leaning closer, so much closer. He continues to hold your gaze, holding you still.

You scoff, your gaze unwavering.

You’re such a little brat, Miguel thinks again, his hand tightening around your arm just a tad more.

“What? Can’t make up your mind now?” you ask with a smug smile.

He scowls, pulling you so much closer. Your breath fans his face and he finds himself growing still when he feels it against lips especially. He swallows deeply while holding your gaze, your scent filling his nostrils and making him lean almost instinctively.

“You can ruin the shoes, I’ll simply buy new ones. I’ll even get you some pretty heels for your trouble. ¿Trato [Deal]?” he asks quietly, his gaze flickering to your lips for a second.

And God, maybe it really is all the drinks you’ve both had tonight because you lean closer, too.

Suddenly, it feels like two rocks rubbing against each other, a spark of fire made beneath the moonlight.

“¿Que pasa [What’s wrong]? Cat got your tongue?” Miguel whispers with a smirk.

“No. I was just thinking about the color I'd like the heels,” you reply, sarcastically.

“Ah, the color. Don't worry, you can choose whatever color you like. Whatever brand. Saint Laurent, Burberry, Gucci…”

You snort. “Didn't know you were so giving, O’Hara.”

“You don't know me” Miguel replies, tilting his head a little.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a smirk that makes Miguel's heart skip a beat. He leans slightly closer, further decreasing the distance between your faces.

“I’m a man that likes to give - to provide,” Miguel continues, his hand tightening around your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips once more.

“Ah, interesting. You're the tree that keeps on giving, hm?”

“Such a smartass,” Miguel mumbles, eyes narrowing and meeting yours again. “One of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

“I can't wait,” you reply defiantly.

Miguel scowls, your little defiance stirring something in him once more. He huffs, eyes moving to your lips yet again, not thinking straight. All he’s suddenly thinking about is closing the distance and shutting your mouth - with his own. He thinks about his mouth pressed against yours, about slipping his tongue in and swirling it around yours to taste you, to make you whine.

Meanwhile, you look at him, noticing his gaze on your lower face. You find yourself doing the same, your eyes landing on his full lips specifically. You silently wonder, despite yourself, what they’d feel like against yours and against your skin. The thought creates a fluttering feeling inside your chest, one that Miguel shares.

His heart races, his mind clouded with these strange thoughts. Miguel thinks about leaning in all the way and doing it, kissing you once and for all to satisfy a hunger and craving he’s suddenly overwhelmed with.

And he would've, if only the door leading to the garden hadn’t suddenly swung open before you both register voices.

You both pull away instantly, staring at each other like two deer caught in headlights. The realization hits the two of you like a ton of feathers at once, the truth echoing in your heads over and over again.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

The only thing that breaks Miguel and you from your shock are the sudden intimate noises, tearing your gazes from each other to see what’s the matter. It’s then that you both see a couple making out against the wall, totally unaware that Miguel and you are there due to the poor lighting.

Seeing the intimacy and hearing their noises of passion is all you need before you walk past Miguel, fleeing the garden area wordlessly to pull yourself together.

Miguel doesn’t try to stop you, not even when you brush past him. He stands there for a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction, hands clenched.

It’s not until you find yourself utterly alone once more that you stop walking. You stare at the ground, your heart racing while your mind plays the last few minutes over and over again. It makes no sense. There’s no way Miguel was about to kiss you, right? You huff in frustration and begin to pace back and forth, one hand clenched tightly around the glass you brought out with you as you try to make sense of the situation.

“Alcohol,” you say quickly to yourself, nodding. “Too much alcohol. It makes people do stupid things.” You nod once more, slowly calming yourself as you repeat this in your head.

At last, you stop pacing when you find reason for that near mistake.

Alcohol, which messes with your brain. Nothing more.

“Hey!”

Startled, you jump and let out a small gasp before turning. You find your mom, happily smiling.

“Come on! What are you doing out here all alone, mija [my daughter]?”

“Just - taking some fresh air,” you answer, walking over to her.

“Your sister and Gabrielito are about to cut the cake. They were wondering where you were,” your mom informs you, offering her arm to you.

You smile and accept your mom’s arm, embracing her comforting presence as you both head back inside the party.

“They were also looking for Miguel. You haven’t seen him, have you?” your mom asks, nearly making you trip.

“N - No, I haven’t,” you lie, clearing your throat and checking your shoe to pretend something is wrong with it to make up for you nearly tripping. “He’s probably talking with the men. They all seem like big fans of him.”

Your mom smiles, nodding. She hums softly as you both enter the venue again, the kind of hum that only moms can muster when they know something you don’t.

“I’m sure Miguelito is somewhere around here. Maybe he needed some fresh air, too,” your mom continues, patting your forearm as you fully enter the reception room now. “Let’s go get some cake.”

After eating cake and making toasts with your family and the guests, you stick near your parents’ side for the rest of the night, as a distraction to forget what almost happened earlier, until it’s time to see your sister and Gabriel off. You watch next to your parents as the newlyweds walk out of the venue, saying bye to the guests and other family members until it’s the immediate families’ turn at the end.

You hug your sister and Gabriel goodbye when it’s your turn, wishing them a great time and congratulating them yet again.

At last, the couple makes it to the car and gets settled. You smile softly as they wave goodbye one more time before the car departs. Watching the car grow smaller and smaller, the realization that your baby sister is married dawns on you. In the blink of an eye, she grew up and turned into a wonderful young woman. You briefly recall when she was a little girl, when she used to follow you everywhere because she wanted to do everything with you. And now, she’s all grown up and starting a new life with the love of her life.

A few feet away from you, Miguel does the same with a thoughtful expression on his face. He can’t believe Gabriel is now a married man, that he’s all grown up. He sighs, wondering where time went before he turns sideways, finding you staring in the direction of the car. He has no doubt you’re having similar thoughts like his, the two of you being the eldest siblings.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you turn, only to meet Miguel’s eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds, the moment at the garden flashing through your minds like the highlights of a video with one particular part in replay: that moment when Miguel leaned forward and his gaze fell on your lips before you allowed yourself the same with his.

Your senses, both Miguel’s and yours, are overwhelmed in seconds. You easily recall each other’s scents, the warmth from your bodies, and the angry energy that slowly turned into something different due to the shoe talk before you fell into whatever that was at the end.

You blink at last and swallow deeply, pushing the memory away. You scoff at yourself, still holding Miguel’s gaze.

Damn alcohol and the things it makes you do and feel. Right?

You finally look away and walk off to meet your parents, not sparing Miguel another glance.

Miguel’s eyes follow you until you disappear from his sight. He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, frustrated. He doesn’t even know if it’s at you or himself, or both. Or, maybe he’s just exhausted form the wedding planning and the actual wedding activities.

He doesn’t know anymore, just like he doesn’t know what he was thinking back at the garden. He turns away and scowls at himself. Okay, fine. He knew exactly what he was thinking: kissing and tasting you.

“Miguel-”

“What?” Miguel snaps, turning. He clears his throat when he finds Daniel, the man from earlier who was boasting about being divorced and advising Miguel to stay single for a while longer. He sighs and shakes his head. “Forgive me, Daniel. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s alright. You’re probably tired from the wedding. These things are always exhausting. I was just going to ask if you are interested in joining me and some of the other guys to a bar. It’s still early,” Daniel says before three other young men reach them.

Knowing the men, Miguel knows what kind of night they hope to have; one with no attachments but filled with carnal pleasure.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m too tired. And besides, I still have to wrap up some things here regarding the venue. You guys have fun.”

The other men boo him and one even dares to call him “old fashioned” since they know Miguel isn’t interested in those type of nights with strangers. They eventually walk away, leaving Miguel alone once more. He shakes his head as he sees them pull out of the parking lot before fishing for his own car keys inside his pockets.

The truth is, Miguel has no tasks related to the venue left. A cleaning crew was hired to take care of everything so neither families would have to worry about it. The food situation was handled and the gifts have been collected to be stored for now until the couple comes back from their honeymoon.

All Miguel needs to do is wish everyone a good night and head home. That’s it. Yet… His thoughts are a storm and you’re at the center of it, the culprit.

His gaze, despite himself, searches for you. He finally spots you several feet away talking with a man, one he doesn’t know personally. Miguel watches the interaction, noticing the closeness and the way you seem at ease with the individual. Hell, you’re even laughing at something the man says.

He looks away when the man places a hand on your forearm while talking, opting to gaze at the venue’s front gardens with trimmed bushes and perfectly aligned flowers.

Miguel suddenly realizes it. He’s stalling, but why? He turns to look your way again, discreetly, and the need to talk to you suddenly hits him. He needs to talk to you about what almost happened at the garden earlier. So, Miguel takes a few steps your way.

As he approaches you, he’s unsure of what he’d even say. I’m sorry for almost kissing you? Miguel cringes internally. Should he even bring it up? Talking about it makes it more real. It means acknowledging that that almost happened between you along with admitting some level of vulnerability, something neither of you have ever shared with each other.

He suddenly finds himself standing next to you and the man, his large strides making the walk a short one. The man stops talking and looks over at him, a look of confusion at Miguel’s sudden appearance. On the other hand, to Miguel’s annoyance, you give him a look of nonchalance.

“Excuse me,” Miguel starts, acknowledging the man. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need a word with Ms. Y/N.”

The man nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “I see. I’ll give you two a moment,” the man says despite you beginning to protest.

You watch the man, a son of one of your dad’s friends from work, walk away. Slowly, you turn to face Miguel, keeping a neutral expression. “Yes?”

“We need to talk about what happened,” Miguel says quietly, meeting your gaze.

“What happened?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t give me that attitude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At the garden,” Miguel continues through gritted teeth in disbelief at your nonchalance.

You hum, tilting your head. “Nothing happened,” you respond.

“Are you kiddi-” Miguel starts but stops, his frustration mounting. He lowers his voice. “Don’t play stupid with me, princesita [little princess]. We both know you’re far from it.”

“You know what I know?” you ask quietly. “There’s nothing to discuss. Don’t make a storm in a glass of water, okay?” With that, you walk around him.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking,” Miguel replies, following you.

“As far as I’m concern, we have nothing to talk about. So, I’ll see you around, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, ending the conversation as you head to your car.

“Dammit,” Miguel murmurs, still following you.

You quickly unlock your car and get inside, slamming the door close. You start the car even when you see Miguel standing next to it, trying to talk to you. Sighing, you consider rolling your window down for a few seconds to let him talk, but at the same time you don’t wish to hear him out. A part of you knows that talking about what nearly happened will make it feel important when it’s not. Or, at least you’ve made yourself believe it’s not.

You shift the car’s gear, ready to drive off, but at the last second, you roll your window down. Facing forward and with your foot on the brake, you speak. “We’ve both had drinks. Alcohol makes people do things that they wouldn’t do when they’re fully sober, even with a little bit in their system. There’s nothing to discuss nor explain. Nothing happened and that’s what matters. I’m certainly not making a big deal out of it, nor have I been offended by what nearly happened, so if that’s what you’re trying to do - apologize - save it. Have a good night,” you state firmly before driving off, leaving a frustrated Miguel in the parking lot.

Through your rear view mirror, you look at him one more time. You find him watching you drive off, his arms at his sides in a stance that lets you detect his frustration clearly. At last, you look away, certain you’ve handled the situation accordingly.

A/N: Hiii, I'm sorry for how long it took me to update, but life got crazy in August due to a family member's death and then sickness. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed part 2! When I wrote part 1, I wasn't planning on this being a multiple parts fic, but with writing part 2, I guess I am now.

I'm unsure of how long this will be. Tbh, I'm hoping for it to be short 😭🙏🏼 Like, 10 chapters or so? Maybe less. I need to sit down and plan accordingly! As you can probably guess, this will transition into a CEO!Miguel x Assistant!female reader who are also now connected because of your sister and Gabriel, so I'm just letting you guys know the forced proximity will increase! 🙂‍↕️

Thank you for reading, and I hope you're having a great day/night!!

Alondra❤️

p.s. I have attached my side Spotify account in case you guys are interested in keeping up with the music I listened to while writing this chapter.

for the people that asked me to notify them for part 2: @vera4luv @safixiovi

[rafesangelita]

Toxic!Rafe and toxic!reader, where they’re fighting because he wants to go out to a strip bar with Topper and Kelce which reader hates (she thinks they encourage his bad behavior) after she told him no. so when reader goes on insta to look at Rafes story and sees he lied and went anyways after seeing a pic of him in the sniffers row at the bar, she gets all crazy and starts responding to the story with full paragraphs 😭 and so when he starts replying she blocks him mid argument, and he goes home and yells at her until they get all lovey dovey again 🥰 (sorry this is long)

warnings: toxic relationship (?), slight humor, cussing, lying, crying, shouting, arguing, mentions of sex, a little plot twist at the end

“..i don’t know about that, man. y/n has a bitch fit everytime i go somewhere without her, i highly doubt she’d be okay with me going there of all places.” you stood outside your bedroom door, rolling your eyes at the sound of topper’s voice. “who cares what she says? she’s not your fuckin’ mommy, bro.” you suppressed a laugh, knowing rafe has called you ‘mommy’ a numerous amount of times. your boyfriend sighed, staying silent for a moment. “look, i’ll ask her alright? if she says no then i ain’t going.” you smiled to yourself, walking into the room with a fresh stack of t-shirts in your hands.

“here she is now, i’ll call you back.” you placed the folded laundry on top of the dresser. “tell the spawn of satan herself we say hello!” kelce shouted in the background. “aww is that dumb and dumber on the phone? hey, guys!” rafe shook his head, a laugh tumbling out of his throat. he hung up the call, getting up to wrap his arms around your waist. you leaned into him, breathing in his cologne as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “listen, uh, topper and kelce are inviting me out tonight, ‘wanted to know if i can join them..” you arched a brow, turning around in his hold.

“and where do y’all plan on going?” rafe cleared his throat awkwardly. “well.. you know how the guys are, they always wanna go to some new place..” he trailed off, clearly stalling as much as he could. “just say it, rafe.” he swallowed nervously. “a strip club.” suddenly his hands felt tense on your skin, and he couldn’t hold your stare. “a strip club?” you repeated, pulling away from him. “that’s cute, but no.” rafe tongued the inside of his cheek, immediately taking out his phone.

[4:30 PM] to: topper, kelce: i’m in, pick me up at nine.

“what are you doing?” you eyed him as he brought the phone up to his ear, walking around to the other side of the bed. “m’telling them i can’t go, because you’re gonna be all pissed off if i do.” you scoffed, eyeing him carefully. rafe cursed under his breath, praying to god you couldn’t tell he wasn’t actually calling anyone. “hey, bro. i can’t go, it’s a hard no.” he scratched the back of his neck. “yeah, i know. maybe another time- wait, where?” rafe stopped pacing, nodding along to his own imagination. “pizza and beer? that sounds good. nine o’clock? alright i’ll see y’all then.” he shrugged as he pretended to hang up.

“alright, no strip club, but charlie’s pizza instead, is that alright?” you nodded. “that’s fine, but you better text me.” he jumped up, pulling you into a hug that ended with you two falling in bed. “i mean it rafe, i want pizza pictures and everything!” he showered you with kisses, taking his time when he got to your lips. you two stayed like that for a few minutes, making out softly before you pulled away. “you should start getting ready before i get too horny, ‘cause then i really won’t let you go anywhere.” you ran your thumb over his bottom lip, sighing when he got up. “good call.” he laughed, getting an outfit ready for tonight.

nine o’clock rolled around faster than you wanted it to, and sure enough topper and kelce were outside honking like maniacs once they pulled up. “i love you, baby, i’m gonna text you in a bit.” you smiled, watching him holler all the way down to where topper and kelce practically tackled him. “we promise to have him home no later than one, mommy dearest!” you gave kelce the middle finger, shutting the door once rafe blew you a kiss. now that you had the house to yourself you figured you’d shower and unwind, maybe finish the book you had been reading. all was well until you glanced at the time on your phone. 10:45 PM, and still no word from rafe.

you opened instagram, spotting the green circle around your boyfriend’s profile picture, indicating he had posted on his close friends. you clicked on it, your heart dropping at the video of rafe throwing money at a stripper’s ass. “front row seats, baby!” he cheered. just as you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the next story was a photo of a blonde sitting in rafe’s lap, topless and smiling from ear to ear. “this motherfucker..” you closed the app, deciding you saw enough before opening you and rafe’s text thread on imessage.

[10:55 PM] - i don’t know what’s funnier; the fact that you had a whole conversation with yourself in front of me to make it sound like you were just getting pizza and beer with your dickhead friends, or forgetting to take me off your close friends list when you want to post yourself at some sleazy ass strip club. you’re a fucking joke.

rafe had never sobered up so fast in his life, all the blood draining from his face when he read your message. “fuck!” he cursed at himself, his head resting in his hands.

[11:10 PM] my <333: baby i promise i’ll explain everything, i’m telling the guys to take me home right now.

[11:15 PM] - there’s nothing you could say that’ll ‘explain’ what the fuck you did. you sat there in my face and kissed me and reassured me when you were getting your way all along. can you even comprehend how fucked up that is? you made me look stupid in front of your friends who already don’t like me. AND THE TOPLESS PICTURE???? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE???? if i posted a picture with my tits all in jj’s face, how would you feel? we both know he’s one phone call away if i really wanted him.

rafe’s blood was boiling after he read your message, knowing that you could leave him and have someone as desperate and lovesick as jj replace him in a heartbeat. “bro don’t sweat it, man. she’ll get over it.” topper slurred, entering figure eight again. “shut the fuck up, you don’t know the first thing about being in a relationship.” rafe shot back, clenching his fists when the message he tried to send turned green. topper didn’t respond, the rest of the ride home being dead silent.

rafe didn’t even say bye to kelce or topper when they arrived at tanneyhill, instead he rushed inside, eyes immediately falling to you resting on the couch. you were wearing your pink, fluffy robe, rollers adorning your hair while you were typing something on your ipad. “babe-” rafe shut the door, falling to his knees before you. “don’t get near me. you probably smell disgusting.” rafe’s jaw ticked, his patience already running low. “i’m so fucking sorry, y/n. i shouldn’t have lied to you, baby. i promise i’ll never do that again.” you finally looked at him, his bangs falling in his face.

“i know,” you sighed, “you don’t have to worry about me doing anything either.” you got up, attempting to walk past him before he grabbed your leg. “what are you talking about?” you knew rafe well enough to know when he was getting angry, and the way he was looking at you right now only confirmed your suspicions. “you don’t get to do what you did and think it’s all going to be fine and dandy with an apology, rafe. i’m leaving for my parents tomorrow, and don’t ask me when i’m coming back because i don’t know. i don’t think i can live with a liar.” you shoved him away, only making him grab you again, this time throwing you down on the couch.

“you don’t think you could live with a liar?” he narrowed his eyes, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “has it ever occurred to you that i wouldn’t have to lie to you if you would just not freak the fuck out everytime i want to go out and have fun?” you couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “you’re one to talk!” you screamed in his face, making him stand up. you followed suit, refusing to let him make you feel powerless. “you wanna act like you’re trapped here? fine! play the victim, but don’t forget everything you do to keep me from going out too.” you were pacing back and forth now, running your fingers through your hair.

“you literally slashed my friend’s tires to keep me from going to her birthday party, and all for what? because you found out other guys were going to be there?” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “i paid for the damages, y/n…” he groaned. “so?! it’s the principal! you do the most when it comes to me wanting to go somewhere, but me telling you not to go to a literal strip club is where you draw the line?? fuck you!” you started making your way upstairs, rafe right on your tail as you did so.

“fuck me?! i’m the one who takes care of you! there’s nothing in this world that you want and don’t have! i take you on regular vacations, i take you out damn near everyday, i keep you in all the newest shit, i pay for you and all your friend’s beauty appointments so that y’all could have a girl’s day twice a month, you just have no fucking clue!” he shouted, making you stop in your tracks. you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, breaking his heart in two.

“and what about everything i do for you?” you let out a shaky breath. “i’m what makes this house a home. i wear the clothes you want me to wear, i eat the food you want me to eat, i talk the way you want me to talk. i’m here when all else fails. i’m the one who holds you and comforts you when things get hard for you. i’m the one who makes sure you never feel alone, ‘makes sure you don’t go through anything alone. i do everything you say. on the days you work long and hard, i’m right here waiting for you with my legs open. on the days that you’re particularly tired, i’ll be on my knees, i’ll ride you and do all the work, and i’ll do everything happily because i love you.” rafe was crying with you by the time you finished speaking, both of you standing in the hallway.

“i get up at the ass crack of dawn and doll myself up everyday because i want to look good for you, i want to please you with everything i do. when we go to the country club, i speak of you in the highest regards, and i do it because i want everyone to know that i respect you. i do all of this, and i do it all without the commitment of having a fucking ring on my finger. if that doesn’t speak volumes for you, then i don’t know what does.” you walked inside your shared bedroom, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. he dropped to his knees once again, hugging your waist like you’d disappear if he let go. “we need each other. i need you.” he cried. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him up off the floor.

“i love you, y/n. please, you can’t leave.” you cupped his face. “i haven’t seen my parents in almost six months, rafe. i have to..” he nodded slowly, taking your hand in his. “then we’ll go together. ‘tell them we have a special announcement.” you watched him with a confused expression as he went to grab a small box out the bottom drawer of the bedside table. “rafe!” you gasped, hands flying up to cover your mouth. “i’ve had this for a while now, i don’t know what i was waiting for, but i want to do this now.” he opened the box, the biggest diamond you’ve ever seen lighting up your eyes.

“i know we have to work on some things, but there’s no one else i’d rather do this with.” you gazed into his eyes, a small smile gracing your lips. “okay, let’s do it.”

[reiding-writing]

hiii congrats on 2k!

could I please have a second hand book with our dearly beloved cold reader? I'm thinking maybe she gets too drunk and Spencer has to take care of her? but I'm cool with anything!

love ya ❤️❤️

TALKING FISTS — SPENCER REID!

alcohol and a short temper don’t mix, who would’ve thought?

spencer reid x cold!reader | fluff? | 1.2k | cold!reader masterlist

WARNINGS | intoxicated!reader, fem!reader, reader punches someone and instigates a fight, mentions (but it doesn’t actually happen) of throwing up, reader is a bit of a twat as per usual

a/n — a bit of a different way for spencer to ‘look after’ our beloved cold!reader, but i think this is accurate to what would happen if she actually got super drunk 😭

main masterlist. | 2k book fayre !! | event masterlist.

Spencer knows you’ve had too much when he has to physically stop you from fighting someone.

Realistically, you’d had too much four drinks before that, but with the way Morgan was feeding you shots it was kind of hard to keep track.

It had been a long week, and you were in no mood to entertain anyone. Still, somehow, Garcia had convinced you to go out for drinks with everyone after a particularly difficult case.

You weren't the kind of person to get swept up in the camaraderie, but every now and again you gave in, and in this case specifically, you felt like the weight of the last few days might lift with a strong enough drink.

As the night wore on, you found yourself knocking back one drink after another, not even sure why you were still there.

Maybe it was because you needed to feel something other than the exhaustion that had taken up permanent residence in your bones.

Or maybe it was because Spencer kept looking at you with that concerned, too-perceptive gaze of his, like he could see right through your icy exterior.

You weren't sure when the tipping point happened, but somewhere between drink four and drink five, you became more irritable than usual.

The alcohol loosened the tight grip you usually had on your temper, making you feel even more impatient, even more annoyed at the crowd around you.

Someone bumped into you as they passed by, spilling a bit of your drink, and that was all it took to set you off.

“Watch it.” You snapped, your voice sharp.

The guy turned around, clearly drunk, and rolled his eyes. “Relax, it's just a drink.”

You stood up from your chair, your movements a little unsteady but your glare deadly. “I said, watch it.”

The guy laughed, looking you up and down like you were some sort of joke. “What, you gonna do something about it?”

Before you could even think about backing down, your fist connected with the side of his face.

It wasn’t a hard punch—not enough to seriously hurt him—but it was enough to shut him up.

Or at least, it should have been.

Instead, in the midst of the widened eyes and the gasps, he turns back towards you, chin cradled in his hand, and sneers.

“You wanna start something? Don’t think I won’t hit you back because you’re a fucking girl—”

Suddenly, there were hands pulling you back, the noise of the bar amplifying as more people got involved.

You were distantly aware of Spencer calling your name, trying to calm the situation, but your blood was boiling, and the alcohol made everything feel disconnected, like you were watching yourself in third person.

“Okay that’s enough—“ Spencer's voice cut through the haze, sharper than you were used to. He was beside you now, his hand on your arm, pulling you out of the fray. "Come on, we need to go now."

You wanted to protest, to rip your arm out of his grasp and tell him you didn’t need help, but the room was spinning, and you couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

Spencer’s grip tightened, and before you knew it, he had steered you out of the bar, away from the chaos you had started.

The cool night air hit you hard, making you stumble, and if not for Spencer’s hands steady on your shoulders, you probably would’ve fallen over.

He guided you carefully towards a bench nearby, and you collapsed onto it, Spencer crouching in front of you with his brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, his voice soothing but full of worry.

You tried to wave him off, but your hand felt heavy, like it wasn't really yours. “I'm fine, Reid,” you slurred, though the words came out much less convincing than you intended.

“You’re definitely not fine,” Spencer said, a small, exasperated smile tugging at his lips despite the situation. “You just punched someone. In the face,”

You blinked at him, your brain struggling to process. “He was being a dick.”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying he wasn’t, but you don’t usually… you know… punch people.”

You leaned back against the bench, the world still tilting slightly around you. “Maybe I should punch more people.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Then, his tone softened. “Let’s get you home.”

You were too tired to argue, and when Spencer helped you to your feet, you leaned on him more than you intended.

He was warm and steady, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, even though you had spent so much time keeping everyone at arm's length.

Spencer wasn’t someone you ever imagined being close to, but in that moment, you were grateful for him.

The cab ride back to your apartment was quiet, with Spencer making sure you didn’t fall asleep or throw up on the way. When you finally stumbled through your front door, he guided you to the couch, sitting you down gently.

“You need anything? Water?” He asked, glancing around your apartment like he was looking for something that might help.

You groaned, resting your head in your hands. “Just… leave me alone.”

Spencer didn’t move. He stood there, awkwardly, clearly debating whether or not to listen to you. Eventually, he sighed and grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, directing it into your unstable hands and carefully pushing the bottom of the glass upwards to direct it towards you lips.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he said quietly, and you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice as you reluctantly took the first sip.

And then it wasn’t so reluctant, and you downed the whole glass.

That seemed to satisfy Spencer enough for one night.

“Get some sleep okay? I’ll call you in the morning,”

“Whatever,”

Spencer presses his lips together in the hint of a smile as he turns to leave, content that you’ll be able to take care of yourself from here.

“Night,”

Spencer lets out a breath, fondness escaping through the cracks of his mouth. “Goodnight,”

[urinarythreatinfection]

Hi, I really like your work with Sanji! Can I request a fanfic where the reader is a person who didn't get love from his parents as a child, but only money? The reader is a woman, if anything! How the reader will try to show her love to Sanji is your choice! Thanks in advance!

This was a bit hard at first but I ended up getting into it eventually. It might've turned out a little more angsty than I thought but I felt like it worked really well. If you aren't at 1053 i'm really sorry I put it in there bc it worked really well too.

Insecure Love

Sanji x Fem Reader. Angst/comfort and some fluff. Major Spoilers for episode 1053. 2740 words.

Sanji adores you, you’re perfect to him. Beautiful, amazing, talented, everything. You are the best woman he could ever wish for. Sometimes he even lays awake at night thinking of the memories the two of you have made, goofy smile on his face he’s so enamored. There is one problem though, just a teensy one, you’re not at all affectionate. You don’t stop him from being affectionate to you, but you don’t exactly reciprocate or initiate. Instead, you give him gifts, which was nice at first but he started to feel a bit conflicted about it the more it happened. He would rather get love from you rather than a material good you’d bought somewhere. What’s worse is that the gifts have stopped, it’s almost always just money now.

“Here.” You say blankly to Sanji while he’s cooking, handing him cash. He spots you and his eyes trail to the berri in your hand, a small frown on his face. “Is it not enough?” He jolts and quickly shakes his head.

“No, that isn’t it. Thank you.” He forces a smile and takes it, pain in his chest. Your boyfriend tries so hard to make you feel loved, cooking for you, complimenting you, showing physical affection, but all you do is hand him cash like payment for a service; like his love was simply something nice you pay him for. He’s tried refusing it before but you had gotten upset, putting it away with a sad expression until he agreed to take it. Now you look at him as he pockets it, telling himself he’ll use it to buy ingredients for a dish you’ll like. After he puts it in his pocket he hugs you, kissing you for a bit before pulling away. “I’m going to finish cooking soon, my love, would you like to stay here?” His eyes are expectant, hoping you’ll stay, but you shake your head.

“I’ll leave you to it, you should focus.” With that, you leave him alone in the kitchen. He looks at the ingredients he was chopping, the money you gave him weighing down his heart. Is this really so one-sided? Has he just been bothering you this entire time? Maybe he’s just a toy you can play with, a music box that sings for you when you put money inside. Those thoughts crowd his head as he cooks until he accidentally lifts a hot lid with his bare hand, burning his skin; but before he can go to treat it... it heals on its own. The cook grits his teeth, clenching his fist. What a creepy ability. He puts his head in his hands and takes deep breaths, it’s okay, he loves you, you’re still together.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks him as he sets food down in front of the girls, including you, completely spaced out.

“Oh, sorry Robin-chan.” He snaps out of it and smiles at her. “I’m doing okay.” The cook leaves to serve the rest of the crew, steps noticeably heavier than normal. The women watch this, then look to you.

“Did you two argue or something? What’d he do?” Nami asks, ready to defend you, but you shake your head.

“I don’t know, I thought he was okay earlier, I handed him money and he accepted like normal.” You’re confused, and they both look at eachother.

“Like normal..?” Nami asks again.

“Yeah, I’ve been giving my allowance to him since we started dating. I know he sometimes struggles with food budget so I like helping out.” You explain and the two girls stare at you.

“(Y/n) what have you been doing so far in your relationship with Sanji?” Robin questions you and you start to talk, explaining that you’ve been getting him gifts since you both started dating; but you ran out of ideas on what to give him so you’ve started to give him money when he makes you happy.

“Wow…That’s horrible.” The navigator states, starting to pity Sanji.

“Like a sugar baby?” Your jaw drops slightly at Robin’s comparison and you quickly shake your head.

“A sugar baby!?” You’re shocked but start to think about it. “Wait, is that what he wants?”

“Obviously not!” The navigator snaps at your obliviousness. “He basically collapses the moment a woman does something for him but you’ve just been giving him money?”

“Wouldn’t you like that though?” You point out and she frowns.

“That’s different.” She considers money an okay gift for her, though even she would get annoyed if she had a lover that would only give her money and ignore anything else. “Plus you hardly show him affection, I thought it was just your guys’ thing so I didn’t say anything but you’re clearly bumming him out.”

“I haven’t refused anything from him though, and I don’t get mad at him for flirting with other women.” The navigator sighs, mentally facepalming, this isn’t working out. You’re too oblivious and Sanji’s too much of an idiot to tell anyone something’s wrong, much less a woman he loves. Robin comes up with something.

“Tomorrow you should come to our room at noon. We’ll assist you” You tilt your head, confused, but agree.

That night, Sanji heads to bed still sad and only getting worse. He can’t sleep, he’s been having trouble doing so since that happened. ‘She was there, she must’ve seen.’ An unnatural thing, becoming the same type of monster he always despised. You must’ve fallen out of love with him, that’s it. He can’t blame you, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t digging a hole into his chest. He curls up into a ball on his bed, grasping at the sheets next to him like you’ll be there.

_________________

The next morning goes as it usually does on the Sunny. Sanji wakes up early to make breakfast for everyone and when they wake up it’s time to eat. The difference now is that Sanji seems off, tired, he doesn’t yell at Luffy or Zoro and his happy comments towards Robin and Nami aren’t enthusiastic. When he sets down your plate in front of you you look up at him, trying to scan his face if he’s sick. He awakened late so it would make sense if his Germa genes weren’t as strong, maybe he’s gotten sick? You’re worried and so is everyone else, except Luffy who doesn’t notice until after eating. He almost says something but is promptly elbowed so he keeps shut. He means well but mentioning it right now will make things worse, plus, the girls have a plan.

Afternoon finally strikes and you walk into the shared girls room, they aren’t there. 'Maybe I came too early?’ You think to yourself, checking the time to make sure it’s noon. Suddenly you hear footsteps and the door opens, revealing Robin, Nami, and your boyfriend. They push him inside and he spots you, looking shocked; but before he could ask what’s going on the door closes. He tries the doorknob but it’s locked, switched so the lock is on the outside.

“Don’t even try unlocking the door or breaking it down. You aren’t allowed out until you two communicate.” Nami states and footsteps are heard fading away. You stare at Sanji’s back, his hands on the wooden door. Does he not want to be with you alone with you this much? Usually he’d be excited to have time to spend with you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him and the cook turns quickly, not prepared for this. He isn’t ready yet! He still needs to prepare his heart for the breakup and practice his apologies for you falling out of love. “Sanji..” You reach a hand out to him and he flinches, pressing his back against the wall like he’s afraid of you. He’s scared to be touched by you, scared that when you feel his skin you’ll retract from fear and disgust from the steel-like flesh. It isn’t right, these misunderstandings cause pain and you bite your bottom lip. What are you doing wrong, what did Nami mean by saying what you were doing was horrible? You step away from him and turn around, the both of you too insecure to speak. Fortunately, being trapped in this room will force you to.

‘She can’t even bear to look at me.’ Negativity clouds his judgment, irrational thoughts filling his mind. “I’m sorry.” An apology, it sounds guilty. This must be a sign.

‘He’s breaking up with me…’ There’s too much stress, him avoiding you, being told something is wrong, and now this breakup. The dam of stone formed by the years of trauma starts to crack, tears dripping from your eyes. Sanji doesn’t see it, but he can hear your shaky breaths. It causes his eyes to widen and his worry for you overpowers his instinct to pull away.

“Mon cœur!?” Your lover walks to you and scans your teary face, his hands cupping your cheeks.

“You don’t have to call me that,” His heart breaks, you’re breaking up with him so he would have to stop calling you that. Your next words confuse him, though. “I know you don’t want to.” …He doesn’t want to? Sanji blinks a few times, why would he ever not want to call his everything what she is?

“What are you talking about? I-”

“Stop forcing yourself!” You yell and he jolts. “It must’ve been hard. Your love for women made you stay with me for so long but I know you don’t love me. Being hesitant about my gifts, not talking to me as much, and you're starting to look tired too.” You step back and put your face in your hands. “You must be staying up late thinking about how you could break up with me.” He stands there, shocked. Him… breaking up with you? The perfect woman completely out of his league? Tears flow from your eyes faster and he tries to make sense of it all, his brain so focused on his own faults that the thought of you being insecure of yours is unable to cross his mind.

“Do you mean the berri you’ve been giving me?” He manages to put together and you nod. He continues to think. “You… it wasn’t payment to you?” He doesn’t know what else to call it so he settles with that word.

“Payment?” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “Is that why you’ve been staying with m-”

“No, nonono of course not. I thought..” Sanji quickly interrupts you, stopping that thought. This is different from what he thought was going to happen, but it still hurts to speak his mind when it only reminds him of what’s wrong, well what he thinks is wrong. “I thought you were giving me those things as payment because you didn’t want to pay attention to me. So I wouldn’t bother you, that my love was just a transaction.” He says the last part more quietly and your heart drops. This is familiar, you’ve felt this exact way before when you were young. Going to your parents for love and only getting money in return to shut you up and get you away. You start to shake and cry harder.

“I-I, I didn’t know. I’m sorry..!” You’re just like them, but Sanji doesn’t care; hugging you.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” He’s already forgiving you and you haven’t even explained anything.

“No, it’s n-not okay.” You say while shaking your head, it’s nerve-wracking to talk about your past but you choose to. For him. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing. That I was different from my parents who would give me things instead of love, I always made sure t-to never tell you to go away or reject you but I ended up making you feel the exact same way I did!” You pull away and cover your face. “I’m horrible!”

‘The same way she did?’ He processes what you said, what’s happening. The struggle of trying so hard to be different from family only to end up like them is something he knows as well. His hand goes to his chest, pressing down and feeling almost completely dense skin instead of the regular squish of flesh; just like his brothers. “You don’t think I’m a monster…” You quickly shake your head. “Why didn’t you say so? Are you sure- I mean you never wanted to be with me!” Whenever he was cooking or if he went shopping you would just give him money and wave him off.

“I..” You think about that, then start to get embarrassed. “I didn’t want to bother you, what if I get overly clingy and get you mad?” Sanji hears this and it’s like weight has been dropped from his heart, but hearing you say this so insecurely still makes him slowly sink to the ground. “Sanji?”

“Bother me.. being clingy.” Gods, he would do anything to have you cling to him when he’s cooking or shopping. “You could never, ever, not in an eternity, ever bother me by being ‘clingy’”

“But don’t you get busy? You work so hard cooking and when you’re out shopping you’re talking with women, wouldn’t I make it awkward if I butted in?” He hangs his head in shame, the few times that you’ve agreed to go shopping he has flirted with other women; but he had assumed you didn’t care. In a way, he would do it on purpose hoping to get a reaction, even looking back at you. Anything to show a sign you loved him, that he wasn’t a toy, but all he was doing was making things worse. This lack of communication was only causing pain to you both. How could he ever make this up to you? He was already unworthy and now he had dared to cause such suffering to the love of his life. “Baby…” You crouch down and cup his face so he’s looking at you, his eyes are teary.

“I hurt you.”

“We ended up hurting each other.” You wipe his tears with your thumbs. “Do you still want to be with me? Even if I've been messing up?”

“I should be the one asking you that, treasure. My love.” Sanji hugs you, pulling you close to him so you’re on his lap. You can feel his hesitance, the fear that you’ll pull away because he’s different now, but you don’t. Instead you press closer to him, lifting your head up to look at him. You don’t really initiate kisses, so you’re nervous as you place your lips on his. He’s only shocked for a moment before he kisses back, resting his hand on the back of your neck. This is the longest series of kisses you’ve had, almost a minute before you have to pull away. “S-Sorry, I’ve gotten better at holding my breath lately.” A bit awkward it’s from something he dislikes, though.

“So I don’t have to worry if I kiss you alot?” You ask and his pupils basically turn to hearts.

“No, you don’t.” Before you two can kiss again there’s the sound of the door unlocking, making you quickly get off of Sanji’s lap as he stands up so Robin and Nami don’t see you in an awkward position. They almost think that nothing has happened but seeing the two of you clearly panicked changes their mind, making Robin smile.

“It went well, then?” Robin chuckles happily as the two of you flush. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

_______________

Sanji hums as he cooks, a good mood from making up with you so amazingly. His ears perk up when he hears you come inside, not needing to look to know it’s you. “I’m almost done, my love.” He states as he expertly flips a steak. You don’t say anything, which confuses him but before he can turn around he feels your arms wrap around him and your body press against his back. His girlfriend, who hasn’t shown real affection until yesterday, is clinging to him while he cooks. Is this a dream?

“Don’t turn around, I’m still a little shy.” You say quietly and it echoes in his mind. Shy… shy… Gods, you’re too cute. His face goes red and he falls to the side, blood seeping from his nose. “Sanji!?” You manage to stop him from slamming fully onto the ground, shaking him. He’s in heaven, this is heaven.

[minniesmutt]

I loved your pet play fic with seungmin, would you mind writing one with hyunjin? with kitten instead of puppy? and maybe soft dom hyunjin? 😶💖

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱, 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: SOFT DOM! HYUNJIN, KITTEN! READER, PET PLAY, FOOD MENTIONS, SOMNOPHILIA, CLIT PLAY, ORAL (F. REC), NIPPLE PLAY, PRAISE, UNPROTECTED SEX, CREAMPIE, HYUNJIN REFERRED TO AS DADDY, AFTER CARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 1.5K ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Y/n was over it. Everyone at work was pissing her off and she was doing things far above her pay. It had been like this all week and she was at a tipping point. She was one moment away from crying. Her boyfriend was her only savior at the moment as his name popped up on her screen.

     “Hey babe,” Y/n said as she held the phone to her ear and packed up her bag

     “Hey. Everything alright?” Hyunjin’s voice came from the other line 

     “Yeah. Just packing up to leave.”

     “Rough day?”

     “Rough week. I might just go home and cry.” Y/n made her way out of the office and down to her car.

     “I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m stuck in the studio rehearsing a little longer than I thought I would be so I can’t comfort you.”

     “It’s okay Hyun. I understand, I wouldn't pull you away from work.”

     “Can I order dinner for you? Let me do something because I don’t know when I’m going to be home.”

     “It’s fine. I’m sure we have leftovers I can heat up.”

     “Let me rephrase, I’m ordering dinner for you. Go home and take a shower. I’ll order your comfort food, please eat, and then I’ll cuddle with you when I get home.” 

     Y/n got in her car and sighed as she sat, “Okay,” Y/n said

     “Hang on.” She heard some movement on his side as she started her car and connected her phone. “You in your car, kitten?”

     “Yeah,” Y/n, blushing a bit 

     “No more thinking, okay? Go home and shower then eat. I’ll call you when I’m off.”

     “Okay…”

     “Okay what, kitten?” 

     “Okay, daddy.”

     “Good girl. Daddy will take care of you when he comes home. No more thinking for the weekend. Just let me take care of you, alright?”

     “Alright Daddy.”

     “Drive safe kitten. Text me when you’re home.”

     “I will. I love you daddy.”

     “I love you too, Kitten. I’ll order your food for you.”

     “Thank you.”

     “You’re welcome. I’ll see you at home.”

     Hyunjin hung up the call and Y/n drove home. Trying not to cry in her way, not because of work but because of how grateful she was for her boyfriend. She barely beat the delivery man to her house. Her dinner was delivered right as she kicked her shoes off. She thanked him and took the food. 

     She let her boyfriend know she was home and was going to eat before taking a shower. She didn’t get a reply but she knew he was busy. She cleaned up and went into their room after she finished eating. Turning on the shower and going to grab some clothes. Noticing Hyunjin had left a couple of their kink things out from last night just as her phone rang with a text

hyunnie 🩵: alright baby. just relax until i get home, okay? y/n: you left my ears and collar from last night hyunnie 🩵: Oops! I’ll put them away when i get home. don’t worry about them  y/n: oooorrrr i can put them on and wait… hyunnie 🩵: are you sure baby? you don’t have to if you’re not feeling up for it y/n: please hyun🥺 it’ll make me feel better  hyunnie 🩵: okay. shower and get ready then. we’re almost done so i should be home soon then i’ll take care of my pretty kitty.  y/n: I love you 💚💚💚 hyunnie 🩵: i love you too kitten💚💚💚

     Y/n smiled at their little emoji code. Their way of giving the other consent when they were out of the house but had something planned. Y/n walked back into their bathroom after grabbing an oversized t-shirt. She stripped herself of her work clothes and got in the shower. Washing away the stress from the day under the warm water. 

     She dried off and put on the t-shirt. Walking back into their bedroom and grabbing the accessories he had left out. Putting on her cat ears and little collar before getting in their bed. Letting him know she was going to take a little nap while she waited and to wake her when he was home with a green heart. 

     Hyunjin didn’t see her last text till they finished their last run-through. Collapsing dramatically on the couch, took a breath then grabbed his phone. He smiled and texted her that he was coming home even though he knew she was asleep. He chugged the rest of his water and then gathered his things. Walking out with his friends before going their separate ways and confirming their time for practice tomorrow. 

     The dancer got in his car and made his way home to his sleepy girlfriend. Bouncing his free leg impatiently at every light he got stopped at. He all but ran into the house once he was home. Dropping his bag by the door and kicking his shoes off. He made his way up to their room. Finding the lights off and his precious girlfriend napping under their sheets. He smiled as he made his way to her. 

     Gently he pulled them off her body and kissed her head. She didn’t stir as he gently rolled her onto her back. Hyunjin kissed her forehead as he got on the bed. He spent his time gently peppering kisses on her face and neck as his thumbs rubbed circles into her thighs. Muttering a few words of affirmation he’d repeat when she was awake. 

     His hands roamed up her shirt, finding she had disregarded putting anything other than her shirt on. Hyunjin smiled and gently pushed her shirt up above her chest. Leaning down and continuing to pepper kisses on her breasts, moving her legs to the sides of his legs. 

     “Poor kitten’s been too overworked,” Hyunjin mumbled against her skin and ran two fingers through her folds. 

     His lips wrapped around her nipple as his fingers found her clit. Gently rubbing circles as she made a light moan. His tongue swirled around the bud in his mouth before he switched to the other one. Eventually leaving her nipples behind and moving down to her clit. Hyunjin gently put her legs over his shoulders as he lay on his stomach. He kissed her clit before licking a strip between her folds. Tongue dipping into her entrance and thrusting in and out of her. Lubing up her walls with his saliva and her own arousal. Moving the muscle in and out of her and switching to suck on her clit. Arms wrapped around her thighs to keep her still, even though she was sound asleep.

     Occasionally he could hear her sleepy moans as he prepped her. Looking up at her to check, only seeing she’d maybe turned her head from one side to the other. He pulled his tongue out of her and sat up on his knees. He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it to their floor along with his pants. Stripping himself and pushing her legs apart.

     Slowly, Hyunjin pushed the tip of his cock into her. The intrusion made her whine a bit. He moved slowly, rubbing her clit with his thumb while he moved into her. “My precious kitten,” Hyunjin said.

     “Daddy…” Y/n mumbled, starting to stir

     “Mhm. Daddy’s here Kitten,” Hyunjin said as he started thrusting in and out.

     Y/n moaned as she opened her eyes a bit. “There’s my pretty girl,” Hyunjin smiled

     Y/n moaned as his tip brushed a certain spot inside her. “Daddy,” Y/n moaned

     “I’ve got you kitty. Tell me what you need,” Hyunjin cooed

     “Faster,” Y/n meekly asked

     Hyunjin picked up his pace and leaned over her. Planting his free hand next to her head as his hips bucked into her. Thumb almost matching his thrusting pace. Y/n reached up and wrapped her arms around him. She pulled him down to her as she moaned into his neck. Hyunjin smiled as she clenched around him. 

     Hyunjin smiled as he mumbled more praises into her ear till he had her creaming around him, almost sending him over too. “Fuck kitty,” Hyunjin groaned 

     “In me. Please Daddy,” Y/n whined 

     “Anything for you, kitten. Don’t have to ask.”

     Hyunjin thrusted into her a few more times before pushing in fully and unloading inside her. Holding himself up so as not to collapse on her before he finished. Once he was sure she had milked every last drop from him he pulled out and away from her. Y/n whined as he did, reaching out for him

     “Gotta clean you up kitten,” Hyunjin reminded her

     “More…” She mumbled     “Later pretty. You need some proper sleep.”     Hyunjin got her to the bathroom and cleaned her up, taking off their play accessories and setting them on the counter before taking her back to bed. Hyunjin tucked her in and properly cleaned up their room before getting in bed with her, pulling her onto his chest and letting her rest there till morning.

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