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ch4nb4ng · 1 year ago

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Marital Duties

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Word count: 9.4k

Genre: Established relationship, married

Warning: SMUT (18+ only), phone sex, sexting, car sex, mention of boobs, oral sex (f. receving), penetration, swearing, mention of cum, mentions of pussy, kissing, praise

Note: ok i kinda nervous to post this but yas! Here is my inspo (here) (here) (here) warning it’s literally p word.

Tagged: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree @kpopsstuffs

Summary: Having a job that meant travelling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husbands.

Work conferences were the bane of your existence. Yes you were away from your kid and sometimes it was hard, but being away from your husband was harder. There was no doubt about your job. Being a world renowned forensic psychologist was amazing and something you wanted for a long time. Sometimes though, it was nice to just curl up on the couch, read a good book, watch a comforting movie; there was nothing wrong with indulging in self-care, you just did not have the time to do so.

The recent promotion into becoming head of the north-west region of mental health care was a big step up from your previous job. No one than you was more qualified for this. Everyone, colleagues and board members put your name up. Psychology was your life, but your family was bigger.

Highschool sweethearts, you and your husband had been inseparable since what felt like the dawn of time. Meeting at 15, having your first dance at 17 at prom. Graduating and going to college together; If you had a dollar for everytime you accomplished a big milestone with him or because of him, you would be swimming in luxury. When the two of you got married, things just fell into place even more. The doubt of being able to help people mentally after graduating from your post grad made you nervous, but then again, you never thought that you would be married to such a wonderful man. A dream job at your local hospital fell into your lap, and your husband became the nurse that everybody wanted to assist them with their care. Working in close contact with him everyday was just another blessing in disguise; you simply could not get enough of him. It was impossible to get sick of him.

That was when you decided to have your first child. What could be a better mix than the two of you combined? The first 4 years of parenthood came with its challenges. Nevertheless, it was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than to share the unfamiliar journey with.

The promotion, however, meant that you wouldn't work with your husband as much, and spending time with your daughter was a little limited, but you knew he would never tell you to turn something down, and in a way it was the best decision for your marriage. The times together were shorter, but it also meant that every moment was savored tenfold. The time was better quality, the acts of service more thoughtful, and the sex. The sex, was that much more passionate, just like the first time he made love to you. He would always find ways to surprise you. Whether it was the way he grasped, grabbed you on the fibers that lingered to be touched, the way his body pressed upon yours, lips lingering on new places. You were always amazed with how much he could do, and what he was capable of.

These are the ideas that tortured your mind when you were away on business trips. Calling him and hearing his voice, seeing his face through the tiny phone screen was not enough. It didn’t matter how long you had been together, you always craved and missed him significantly.

“Hang on,” he whispered through the phone speaker, “someone wants to say hi to you.”

Your heart beamed with joy every time you saw her little face on the screen. God she looked like her dad, and you knew she'd grow up to be a beautiful woman.

“Hi mommy,” she giggled, fingers crinkling then uncrkinly as she waved at the camera, “I miss you mommy.”

“Aw baby,” you pouted, “I miss you too. Mommy will be home tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Yes,” he cooed, “and daddy is going to read you a bedtime after you say goodnight to mommy.”

Your baby squealed with joy, running out of the frame and to her room. You could do nothing but chuckles, careless that she was that excited over a book of words that she forgot to say goodnight.

“Let me call you back at 15.”

You nodded, pressing the red cross before rolling on your back and looking up at the ceiling, admiring the off white paint color, heart beating out of your chest every second that the callback was not made. It’s not that you were worried he wouldn’t call back, you just felt that longing you always did when you weren’t looking at him.

The vibration on your chest was extra sensitive. You rolled back over, now lying on your front with your hand resting on your chin, other hand holding the phone as you answered.

“Hey baby.”

“Hiiii,” you whispered, a smile on your face impossible to be rid of.

“She was out like a light.”

“I’m glad.”

“How was your day, baby? I want to hear all about it.”

You giggled as you saw him get up, walking into the bathroom of your house as he placed you against the bench next to the sink. Chan wasn’t shy. He thought it was completely normal to remove his scrubs and leave his upper body bare as he bent down to the bottom drawer, taking out his skincare and placing it on his face. Chan was your husband. You had seen him shirtless 100 more times than you could count. It should not affect you this much. It should not make the temperature of your cheeks rise. It should not cause a sudden sharpness of change in your breath. It should not make your eyes bulge, and it should definitely not send you into a head spin when his biceps flexed when washing his face. Being a clinical psychologist meant having pristine precision and concentration, so if anybody got a hold of this live footage right now, they might question your profession.

“Y/n, Y/n?”

You blinked, quickly snapping your head to get back in the game. It was too late, however, your husband was already smirking at your distraction. You could try and play it off, but the both of you knew that he was too smart to fall for that.

“Sorry babe, I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh yeah? What’s distracting you?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you know exactly what you are doing.”

“Me?” He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, flexing his opposite bicep, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his obvious attempt to woo you over, the subtle flirt. Sometimes it was easy to resist, but in this case, it was easier to play along, feign innocence until he truly told you what he wanted. The two of you liked to play such games, especially when you were on the road. It was time for you to sit up, placing Chan on the lamp atop of the bedside table before placing yourself on the edge of the hotel bed. The buttons on your shirt were suddenly feeling a little tight. The smirk on your husband’s face grew the moment he saw the first two buttons undone, a sneak peak of your cleavage making its debut for the night. You stopped there, gently pulling down the fabric, stretching the collar of the shirt, consequently putting your chest on full display.

“Two can play that game Mr. Bang.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he walked over to your shared bedroom, placing his phone in similar fashion to yours before removing his bottoms, your husband now in nothing but his boxers as he laid down, stretching out his legs before lifting you again, wanting the closest view to your fingers continuing to remove one button at a time, a painfully slow movement to your fingertips. Fuck. Now he kind of regretted starting this game with you tonight. A gasp of gratification spilt from Chan’s lips as he watched the satin material that made up your shirt slither off those, in his words, gorgeous shoulders of yours. The black lace bra, the one being your husband’s favorites out of pure coincidence the only garment covering your chest.

Chan loved every part of you, make no mistake. He would worship every part of your body 24/7 if he could. He simply could never get enough of you, but your chest, your breasts were on a whole different level. Chan loved your boobs. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, promiscuous acts or not, if he could have his hands on them, he could. Cuddling, sex, hugs; call him a pervert, but he didn’t care. It was his wife for god sakes. He would feel abnormal if he wasn’t attracted to them. Conveniently for you, this was something you could play to your advantage. Didn’t want to do the dishes? Show him your cleavage. Needed to put your daughter to sleep but you wanted him to do it? Promise him to show your cleavage after he does so. It was a convenient weapon to use, and this was the perfect time to use it. It was fair, seeing as he was using the weapon of his own to try and get you where he wanted.

“Aw come on,” he whined, “you did that on purpose?”

��Did what,” you smiled, fingers gently tracing the lace attached to the strap, “I didn’t do anything.”

Tapping the phone screen, you sighed. It was like, and your flight home was something that required you getting up much earlier that you would ever prefer. You should go to sleep. Hang up on him. You were going to see him tomorrow anyway, surely you could suppress your urges until then.

But then you saw your husband redirect his palm from the outside of his undergarment, which was obvious to the eye, to the inside, a gentle slap against his skin as it dived past the waist band. Fuck this was cruel now. Not only because you could see his hands subtly tumbling underneath, he drew attention to how hard he already was, and you didn’t know what aroused you more: his probaby pulsating length or the fact that he was as aroused as he was because of you. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred, Chan always had a way of making you feel special. Physically, emotionally, intimately; it was part of his aura, and one of the main reasons that you were so attracted to him in the first place.

“Baby,” you gasped, hands traveling up waist and to your chest, gently kneading the mass in an attempt to match his slow pace that he was palming himself, “you’re so naughty. I have to go to bed.”

“Aw come on baby,” he groaned, head resting atop the headboard, gaze even more piercing at the angle his head was at rest, “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know Chan,” you sighed, your next words going to be knowingly disappointing for him, “I have to check out at 3am and it’s already almost 10. You know what I’m like when I don't get my beauty sleep.”

Chan gave you a disapproving pout as he took his hands out of boxers, a shiny ring reappearing from the undergarment as he took the phone with both and lay flat on his back, sinking under the sheets and head gliding onto the pillow. He was humbly accepting defeat, most likely because he would see you tomorrow anyway; that’s when he could have his fun.

“I know baby it’s ok,” he smiled, bringing his face as close as possible to the camera, lips still pouting, “let me give you a kiss goodnight.”

“Thank you baby,” you giggled, also leaning forward to kiss the phone screen simultaneously before whispering a small, “goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and the adrenaline from your almost raunchy rendezvous over the phone wore off quickly. You weren’t that young anymore. Getting tired was much easier. There was much less energy, especially after getting riled up like that. Even if it was what you saw while you were sleeping in your dreams, and you only have to wait 12 hours to see your beautiful husband in the flesh.

***

The alarm caused a fright, a deep groaning sound of annoyance bellowing from you, but that quickly wore off. The immediate thought of seeing Chan and your beautiful daughter being the main reason for your sudden change in temperament. Your bags were already packed and you organized your brain knowing that you would be too tired to do it in the morning The smile on your face couldnt dared to be wiped off once you were in the taxi. The cool breeze of the warm summer hitting your face as you pushed the window in the back seat halfway down. Summer was your favorite time of the year, especially since it was the time you got to spend with your family that was of the best quality. All of the aspects of your job you loved, even the times you traveled. However, your heart did sink a little when you had to travel at this time of the year. The school holidays always felt too short, so when you had to travel, the amount was even shorter.

A ding from your phone brought out of your somewhat solemn daze, heat creeping to your cheeks immediately:

[hubby <3] 7:00 am Can’t wait to see you, hope there aren't any delays at the airport.

*one attachment*

Jesus fuck. Now sending a full blown dick pick with your daughter in the car, which you assumed was there, was definitely not the way to go; and thank god your husband knew that. But that did not let him off the hook. It was a photo of him, in the mirror, with his face cut off and only his lips in the frame. He was wearing a black sleeveless tank and those fucking grey tracksuit pants. Call yourself cliche, but nothing turned you on more than that particular piece of clothing. Chan had one hand on the camera, the other hand at the base of his hardened length. He always did this. As mature as Chan was, the times he chose to be inappropriate truly were the most inconvenient for you. A loud gasp escaped your lips, head almost hitting the chair in front as the driver came to a halt.

“Everything okay back there?”

“Uh yes,” your head snapped towards him, nodding furiously as a terrible attempt at acting in the norm, “why did we stop?”

“We are at the airport, miss?”

His tone sounded one of question, kind of looking at you in the rear mirror like you were one of the strangest passengers he had. You looked outside, a ferocious laugh escaping your lips as you decided it was better to say nothing and just pay, get out, and grab your own luggage. The awkwardness left your mind in shambles. How dare he send such a photo. Your husband. It was most likely to get revenge from last night, because he knew you would have to sit on the plane and suffer in silence.

Your luggage was checked in quickly, security easy to get through; there was plenty of time to wait in the boarding lounge. At first you were annoyed by the message. The sexual frustration that had already accumulated from your absence away from him was enough, but if anything, it felt like this was an extra punishment for last night.

But then you opened it again, started analyzing it (if you could call it that) until your finger was subconsciously in your mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you looked at him, your husband, he was always going to do it for you, every single time. The ache that has been coming and going throughout the week returned, and it made you annoyed. So annoyed that you found yourself lifting your butt from your chair, walking to the bathroom and locking yourself in one of the stalls. Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you pulled it down as much as you could without taking it off, mimicking a downward looking angle in an attempt to copy your husband, lips down as the camera clicked, off silent. Fuck. It’s fine. The idea that people may have heard the sounds of you taking a photo in the toilet. You were too fueled with a horny rage to think of the ramifications as you sent your photo, giving in and responding to him.

[Y/N] 8:30am No delays. Make sure you’re there on time.

*one attachment*

Oh, he was gonna hate that. Chan had patience for a lot of things. But short, dry messages were something that made him mad. Serves him for sending you that first. You knew exactly what his reaction would be as well, but at least you could board the plane in peace.

It was around 3 hours before the plane arose from one location and landed in another. The plane ride was painful. You tried to do the things you usually would. Create drafts for your patients, read a book, watch a downloaded netflix movie, and just sink into your non-reclining chair and relax; but you simply couldn’t.

The brain rot that was the simple image of your husband’s half naked torso should not be affecting you this much. But that was the problem too. It wasn’t just the picture. That image was the catalyst for the sexual rumination that had been numbing your brain for the past week. The want to get home was even stronger now knowing that you really had something to look forward to.

Of course, to your dismay and longing, the baggage claim took forever, security had a long line, and by the time all of that had been completed, it was, of course, an hour schedule that you told your husband to come and pick you up. The look on his face was sour to say the least. There he was, leaning against the exterior of your shared four wheel drive, drinking his probably now lukewarm coffee. The tingle instantly came back to your core, feeling like a teenage girl again. The scene was just like old times. Chan, waiting around the corner from your house to come and pick you up. The only thing that was different was that it was slightly taller, and had a few more wrinkles. Nonetheless, he looked super hot. Still wearing those grey sweatpants, and a fucking black tank. A fucking blank tank that was probably the tightest fitting pieceing of clothing in his fucking closet. His stance was strong, biceps, triceps, and ¾ of his pecs bulging out in public, and it was truly making your brain dizzy. You walked over quietly, the jarring sound of your suitcase wheels rolling along the parking lot concrete ruining the suspense of your arrival. Chan’s head snapped, eye widening the moment you appeared in his vision.

“Hi baby, sorry I’m late the customs took for-”

The interruption was welcome as Chan shoved his phone in his pocket, apparently with an empty takeaway coffee cup falling to the floor as he enveloped you into his arms, a groan of admiration falling from his lips as they immediately attached to yours, your body to relaxing against his, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. God, it was only a week. One week, but you craved his touch more than anything in the world. It truly was the little things such as his calloused textures, the warmth of his skin, his smile. Holy fuck his smile was, in your opinion, the greatest thing in the world that ever existed.

“Mmmh,” you hummed, gently pulling away, hands snaking across your husband’s waist, a smug smile on your lips, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too baby,” he growled, morning raspiness to his tone, “how was your flight?”

The implication of his question made your eyes ogle, the visual image of his text message imprinting on your brain. The smirk that developed on his face formed the expression of realization that hit you. Suddenly his grip on your waist was tighter, and Chan was pulling you in even closer, leaving you to feel everything; yes, everything.

“It was good,” you giggled, knowing that you had been caught, “what was not good was your behavior since last night.”

“Hmm is that so? I don't see this being a one-sided activity?”

Your right hand left his torso, smacking him on the chest before taking a step back and walking to the car. It was fun to pretend to be annoyed, especially because you knew it would work your husband up even more. Chan hated when you sulked, especially when he playfully called you out. Chan always liked games, and so did you, because you knew that there was always one thing it would lead to. The longer the game went on, the more passionate the ending to this game would be. You walked into the car, peacefully sitting in the passenger seat as you left your husband to take your suitcase and place it in the boot. Serves him right for being a smartass. There was no sound except for the car door once the two of you were inside. The ignition was turned on, and so were you, watching your husband's arm reach over to the shoulder of your car seat, his head turned to look behind him. This was so dumb! You really should not be aroused by this; you’ve seen him do this thousands of times.

“You okay babe?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of this lustful daze, “yeah, why?”

“Ok it’s just,” he paused, shifting into drive, then placing his hand on the inside of your thigh, “you’re staring at me like a piece of meat.”

“I am not,” you scoffed, “you wish I was staring at you like that.”

He said nothing, a light chuckle following as the car fell into another silence. A comfortable one at that, well, to an extent. His thumb was gently nudging at your skin, knuckles inching closer to your center. There was something in the air, and the longer it lingered, the harder it was to ignore it. The want. The need to have him. It was impossible. You knew that even if you did get home soon that your daughter was home, and there was no way you were going to traumatize her like that; kids remember everything. If you took too long in the car, your father would get suspicious. He was one to get on your nerves like that, especially if he spent more time than agreed to watching your beautiful child.

“I got your text message this morning.”

Chan’s eyes were on the road, which forced you to keep yours. Your eyebrows furrowed however, knowing that the street he just turned down was not the right way to your house. Instead, Chan turned the opposite direction, the car coming to an immediate stop at a lookout, but not just any lookout. The lookout east. The two of you came from a small town, meaning there weren't many spots to go; that was until the lookout east was uncovered. Back then it was the talk of the town, the go to hookup spot for many. You have seen it yourself. It had a beautiful view however, and most of the time you and Chan would go just to admire the view, but did not mean that every time would be an innocent one. The two of you had not been in years, and there was a big question mark as to why you were here right now. Chan said nothing, getting out of the car and walking over to your side, opening your own door before opening the back door, crawling in with you following. The two of you got comfortable, that was, until Chan pinned you down to the back seat, lips once again attacking yours as he pressed his horny groin into yours, a deep groan bellowing from your husband's chest. His dominance was easy to comply with, the desperate moan falling from your lips a culmination of feelings from the past 12 hours. This really could have been the horniest you have ever been in your whole entire life, even including the times of excessive sexual hormonal changes during pregnancy. His tongue snaked past your lips, without any slight of permission as his hips fell into a gentle rhythm. Chan moved with such delicacy and poise, yet somehow he was able to convey his ultra high level of arousal. Now you were in big trouble; it was serious business when Chan pinned you down like that. It meant he had serious business to take care of.

“Chan,” you tried to speak, his lips interrupting each word, “what, are you doing?”

He pulled away, sitting up. Chan said nothing, eyes fixated on your chest as he grasped your wrist to pull you up, your body clumsily falling into him as you fixed your balance. Chan was quick to attack your lips again, hands making light work as they gripped onto the edge of your shirt. Your arms lifted unconsciously, allowing the kiss to break as he took off your shirt, your upper body in nothing but your undergarments. Your husband was like a kid in a candy store the moment he saw the slightest bit of cleavage. Chan’s arms wrapped around your back as he effortlessly unclasped the unwanted fabric, lips immediately attaching to your left nipple. A gracious moan fell from your lips, a hand tickling the back of the hair at the base of his skull, keeping a guidance. At first this tongue was small, gentle. A few kitty licks right in the center. Although it was minimal touch, you were one to have more sensitive nipples, so the feeling was already heaven enough. It wasn’t until his entire mouth was attached, a parietal noise of vacuum escaping his lips each time your tit went in and out of his mouth.

“Mmmmm,” you hummed, back arching slightly at the subtle texture of his teeth, “you’re like fuckin newborn.”

“Mhh can’t help it,” he huffed, out of breath, hand replacing his lips for a brief moment, “makes me want to have another kid.”

Chan gave you no time to reply, lips resuming their position, but now on the opposite nipple. His fingers never stopped moving, either on your shoulder, running up and down your arms, but mainly on your breasts, doing whatever he can to feel you. Each squeeze of the mound brought a whine to your throat. His statement ran through your mind and just stayed there. Having another kid was not really something the two of you had ever spoken about. It wasn’t that it was off the table, no. It truly was just something that had not come up in conversation. You could understand why he wanted to have one, and in this moment especially, it had nothing to do with having an actual child.

It is true that when you met your husband, your body shape resembled more of a P, but when you were pregnant with your daughter, Chan was on another planet. Any chance he got, his hands were on them. Call him twisted, but he loved how much bigger and softer they got when you were deep into pregnancy.

When you came back out of thought, and the major distraction of your husband's lips on your body, you pushed him away gently. You followed the sort of harsh motion with a gentle peck to his lips, arm wrapping around his neck as you smiled at him in disbelief. The last chance the two of you, well more him, had been so reckless like this was so long ago you would not even be able to recall. This didn’t mean you hated it though, if anything, it satisfied that little part of your adolescence that lingered. The adolescence that was always sparked whenever you were away. Whenever your calls turned to a lustful space. The photos. The phone calls. Usually the ‘rebellious’ behaviors were to compensate for the distance. But now, Chan was hungry for you, even when you were right in front of him.

“Babe, what has gotten into you?”

Your husband buried his face into your chest, a large breath filling his nostrils, your scent deeply satisfying him before he responded.

“I just missed you a lot, baby. And that picture you sent drove me fucking wild.”

A smirk appeared on your lips, legs hovering over your husband's waist before encasing the lower limbs around his waist, a light amount of friction created by the swift move of your hips makes him hum in pleasure. Your eyes, now sitting on top of his lap, gazed over, looking down on the poor man. There was a slight emotion of guilt there. Depriving him of getting what he wanted. You didn't really care though. If anything, pissing him off usually led to better sex after, and there was nothing in this moment that you wanted more.

“Mmmh, as much as I want this,” you mumbled, another soft kiss in between your sentences, “I need to go home and see my daughter which I have not seen in a week.”

“You’re right,” Chan chuckled, “I am getting a little bit carried away, aren't I?”

Yeah he was impatient, but he understood, and it was one thing you really loved about him. He was extremely empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Able to put himself in everyone else’s shoes. So as soon as you mentioned wanting to see your daughter more, he understood. He passed you your bra and shirt, quickly helping you put them back on, not without stealing another mouth watering kiss, and hopping back into the driving and passenger seat promptly.

The drive was once again peaceful; which lasted around 30 seconds. Maybe it was a better idea to just fuck in the back of your car, because the ache between your legs, when reflecting on the past week, was at the most intense it had been. Maybe this was your karma for withholding your body from your very eager husband. It didn’t matter now because whether you liked it or not, all of this was going to have been scheduled at a much later, uncertain time.

Chan’s hand was placed on your thigh like before, the light background and the noise somewhat distracting you, but not for long. Your husband’s grip was getting stronger and stronger, inching closer and closer to your wanting pussy with each second. A sharp gasp left your lips when his middle finger traced over the hem of your jeans, your level of arousal heightened to the point where even the breeze most likely was enough to partly satisfy yourself.

“Chan.”

“Y/n.”

“Stop it,” you whined, fingers coincidentally fidgeting with the button of your jeans, following the same direction with your zipper before the pair of pants were below your waist, your bottom undergarments now on display. You looked down, embarrassed at the mass wet patch coating your panties. Your husband's hands took a little bit of a wander, but froze almost immediately when he felt that familiar patch he had felt oh so many times. The digits were quick to act, another moan spelling from your mouth as soon as he got you in the exact spot he knew to touch. That were the perks of having a husband, because whether the time of orgasm was long or short, he knew exactly where to touch you to make that happen.

“Your body is having the opposite reaction,” he smirked, “and my eyes are strictly on the road.”

“And keep it that way.”

“Mhmm,” he ignored, fingers somehow able to push your panties to the side, raw fingertips now spreading open those pussy lips. God you felt dirty, nasty. How could you do this in your fucking car? Too horny to even wait until you were in the comfort of your bedroom. You were much too harsh on yourself. It was most definitely your husband's fault for opening that can of worms the moment he rocked up on the facetime camera without his shirt on. Therefore, your humility was minimized, there were always much worse things you could have done. Chan was easily able to find that wanting little entrance of yours, two fingers effortlessly plunging themselves inside, the unsympathetic texture of his hard working fingers gently scratching the velvet interior of your walls, hips now gently rocking back and forth on him. Your hands came to your breasts automatically, pinching, twisting, flicking the sensitive buds in any way possible that could create a replica of Chan’s mouth from previous moments. Fuck, no one else could do you like your husband, even yourself.

“Fuck Chan,” you whimpered, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Shh it’s okay,” he cooed, coaxing you through his honey textured tone, “just let it feel good, worry about other things later.”

Just as you let your head fall against the headrest, eye fluttering shut, the car came to a halt. Eyes flying open, a mound of disappointment when your visual fields were filled with your front yard. To your dismay, your husband withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a large squelching sound in the moment as he placed his hands on the gear shift, placing the toe of your into park before turning the car ignition off. The look you were giving your husband now was one of sadness, despair, making him laugh. He loved when you were dramatic.

“You’re not happy to be home?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, redoing your pants up before storming out of the car, forcing your husband to grab your suitcase as you stood impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to open it. It would be impossible to wipe the puffed up look of content on his face, knowing that he got right under your skin. Games were fun to play, but you simply knew that if he didn’t give you what you wanted soon, the house would fall into chaos. It was one thing to wind you up, but this time it was too far to push through, then stop just when things were getting good.

A fake smile plastered on your face, the refreshing thought of seeing your daughter coming back into your mind as you walked through your abode. It faded however, unable to see or hear anything that resembled your little baby. It wasn’t until you walked down your long hallway that led to your kitchen that you saw the note on your marble bench. It read the following:

Hi Darling, hope you had a safe flight!

I have taken my beautiful granddaughter to the park for a playdate with a couple of her friends and the other available parents.

We are leaving at around midday, and won’t be back for a few couple hours. Apologies you will have to wait a little longer, but I couldn’t say no to her beating eyes when she asked me.

I'll see you when I’m looking at you.

Dad

“Chan!”

Your timbre was loud, somewhat frightening your husband as he rolled your luggage across the floor, meeting you in your shared kitchen. He was kind of worried. Chan knew that your dad was taking care of her while he went to pick you up, but he never said anything about taking her out. He stood next to you, trying to analyze your expressions before you spoke. You missed your daughter a lot, there was nothing false about that statement. Nonetheless, when the smug look came to your face at the thought of what having an empty house implied, you couldn't help yourself.

“Did you know that my dad took her to the park?”

Oh fuck. Chan thought he was in trouble; big big trouble.

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress your smile at how hopeless he looked. Being the medical professional you were, it was easy to read your husband like a book. And after his actions, which were already on the verge of crossing the threshold of what you would put up with, he was in his every right mind to react this way. Walking on eggshells was the right way to go. From his friskiness on the phone, to sending an almost naked picture to you in public, to publicly groping and prodding at your highly aroused body in the discomfort of your car, to now delaying your reunion with his daughter; my my my did he dig himself a massive grave that he would not be able to dig himself out of this one.

“No,” he answered, hesitance leaking from his tone, “she must have asked him after I left.”

“Right,” you paddled, handing the note your dad had left to your husband. A sigh of relief in the form of his chest falling from the fat breath he sucked in before dissipating from his chest. Taking a step close, your husband ignored, focusing all his efforts on the written material until he felt the texture of what was your fingertips find a place on his torso, index fingers ‘accidentally’ finding a way underneath the hem of the thin material that made up his shirt. The note was removed from your husband’s face in the form of a toss with his own hand, eyes piercing into yours the more and more the skin of his torso was being exposed to the light. Your palms then became a part of the conversation, gently pressing against your husband's groin as you could feel his length awake from a light slumber.

“Why am I sensing that you’re not mad now?”

“Me,” You gasped, feigning ignorance as you finally pulled the flimsy material over your husband’s head, “I was never mad?”

“You weren’t?”

“No Mr. Bang,” you giggled, wrapping your hands around your husband’s neck once more, “Mad that you have been teasing me for almost 24 hours straight?”

Chan didn’t answer, instead sweeping your legs off the floor and into your arms, carrying your bridal style back down the said hallway, bedroom door conveniently already open as he laid you down on your back. A hum of happiness fell from your lips at the familiar feeling of your own bed sheets encompassing your back. You were brought out of those thoughts quickly however, your husband left you little to revel in bed texture, removing his sweats immediately before lifting you by the armpits again, leaving you to stand and him sitting on the edge of your shared mattress. The invitation of your barely dressed husband with a pressing erection straining his boxers was a very enticing seat. One that you took without a second thought as his hands were straight for your throat, a gentle squeeze as your lips connected first, legs cloaking his waist once more, the both of your tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Chan’s mouth vibrated as he relaxed into the sensual nature of the kiss, hands drifting away from your upper body and right to the outside of your thighs, a gentle tingle of fingertips dancing across your heated skin as you pulled away from a brief moment, wanting to match at least half of his body in the lack of clothing. Your husband helped as he withdrew his hands from your body for a brief moment, deciding to, rather than pull your nice shirt over your head like a normal person, he pulled the seams apart, splitting the shirt into two before using one hand only to unclasp your bra this time. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t impressed by it everytime.

“I liked that shirt,” you pouted, “did you have to rip it?” “I’m sorry y/n,” he chuckled, hands snaking up your sides another time, “I just want you so badly.”

There was no time to react as your husband gripped your hips, spinning you around and pinning you into the mattress. His second attack followed impeccably, hands fumbling on your jeans before getting them undone, panties groped in unison as they hit the side wall. That was an irrelevant detail, because Chan was lying on his front, abs rubbing against your core as he brought his hands back to your tits; his most favorite thing in the world. The man could not keep his hands still, mouth slobbering all over the sensitive skin as he began his second attack of the day on your nipples.

“Never gets old,” you giggle, a gentle moan following after at the contrast of your flimsy mounds and rock hard nubs. Chan’s hands felt like no other, and when he had them on you, it was the time when you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Your husband’s chuckles followed closely to yours. Seeing his wife happy was one thing, but knowing that he could make you feel this good aroused him to another level. His admiration deepend, yes, but it was somewhat of an ego boost for him. Knowing that he was that good with his fingers.

Your husband’s lips, like his hands, began to wander, a strip of wet kisses trailing down the center of your stomach, causing him to crawl back further and further until his lips were just above your core. Chan brought his fingers right back to where he had them in the car, easily able to slip in two fingers without warning, a deep groan gritting his teeth at the way your back arched for him monumentally. The sight was one that he had been craving, one that you craved yourself. It did not matter how far apart you were from your husband, his appetite for you would never change. If he wanted to be close, he wanted to be close. If he wanted to be far, well that was just simply not plausible. As much as he wanted to pleasure you, make you feel good, like the diligent role of a husband should be, it was the closeness that motivated him every time. Chan longed for these moments, especially since the introduction of your daughter restricted the ability to do so. At any possible moment, Chan would demand to do whatever he could to profess his love, and it was always done with his mouth; his tongue to be more specific.

In this scenario, rather than speaking with tongue, it was sticking out of your husband’s lips, flattening as he dived in head first without hesitation, your hands automatically rummaging through the thick mound of curls that supported the top of his head. His tongue was heaven, spreading your pussy lips farther and farther apart and he used that ferocious organ to fiercely suck on your wanting nub. A monstrous moan escaped your lips at the contact, a gratifying humm coming from his throat at the way you tugged on his locks. Your eyes were barely open, unable to prevent yourself letting your eyelids dance back and forth from open to shut, mesmerized at the current view you had when hunching your neck to see. Chan could see the way you were desperate to view his fulfilling prophecy that was going down on his wife, making sure to lay his chest flat on your bed, ejecting his fingers from your cunt and hooking each forearm around each leg, compressing them into the mattress, giving you the perfect perspective of the combination that was his lips and tongue simultaneously pleasuring your aching core. If this was going to be the result after pining for each other for around 12 hours only, you would never think about it twice.

“I love being married,” you whined, another humorous hum escaping your husband’s lips, “tongue feels so good.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled, half of his face muffled in your pussy, “you taste so good.”

“What was that?”

He took away his tongue for a brief moment, looking you deep in the eye before repeating his statement.

“You taste so good.”

He didn’t want to take much time away from making you, his wife, feel good, let alone waste his breath on 3 words. His tongue snaked across your inner thigh, the organ licking a gentle strip up each leg before descending back onto your gushing pussy. The smile on your face at his works was impossible to wipe off, your moans through the pearly whites getting louder and louder at the same time with your core, the accumulation of your slick and Chan’s oral fluids contributing to the squelching sound that was bringing you closer and closer to peak arousal. His lust was simply one of trance and dedication. It genuinely could not be explained enough how much he loved seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one that was doing so. Your lips contorted, unable to keep the smile as your bite down on the skin below your bottom lip, harsh enough to leave a line of marks before you were sitting up, hands leaving his hair and dominating his face, palms spread across either side before pressing a kiss to his lips. Your nose crinkled, easily identifying the taste of you on his tongue before giving him one last look, eyes completely open as you crawled backwards on your elbows, left index fingers curling in a come hither motion. The invitation was simply too divine to resist. Your husband turned into a predator, jumping on top of you like he had just caught his prey. His moves were delicate, making sure to not crush you underneath him. His lips were itching to be on yours again, and the feelings were returned, tongue automatically parting his lips and dipping inside his wanting mouth as his hands left your figure for a brief moment, slipping the thin material down his legs and over his feet, fingertips, like magnets to his wife’s skin, straight back onto you. Your own hands were now back on your husband's body, fingernails digging into the large mound of muscles that was his upper back as his fully erect length pressed against your heat. A moan slipped out of your mouth and straight into his, causing him to pull away.

“Fuck you really missed me, didn’t you?”

His smirk was fucking priceless. So annoying, but it would just be a flat out lie if you said you were not attracted to it in the slightest. Cocky did not look good on most people, but it 100% suited your husband. Your nails buried themselves deeper into his flesh at his statement, a poor attempt at humbling him in the slightest as another moan fell from your lips as he began slightly rocking back and forth, the tip of his pre-cum soaked tip hitting your extremely sensitive nub. You went to open your mouth, a failing endeavor of speaking a sentence when the only thing coming out being sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t tease me Mr. Bang,” you mumbled in between each groan, bucking your hips to create a larger friction between your two bodies. Chan was getting impatient himself, but god, did he love to tease you. Your husband had no trouble making you orgasm over and over, he just had displeasure in making you cum so quickly. Your body was sensitive solely to him, even after all these years, it didn’t take much to get you there. Therefore, teasing you made the process so much more enjoyable. Watching you squirm was something that he really enjoyed.

“Hmm Mrs. Bang,” he hummed, lifting his hips off of yours, one hand now wrapped around the base of him, “you’re so cute when you’re all hot and bothered.”

Your eyes formed into a squint, annoyed at how easily he was pinning you down, “stop playing games and fuck me. Preferably today before they get home.”

“Oh fuck,” Chan chuckled, prodding at your pussy hole with his length, “you’re right, let me get to business.”

It was funny when previously mentioned that Chan left to tease and see you squirm, because once his length was comforted by the strength of your tight walls, your husband was a mess. He couldn't help it. Your pussy, after being with you for so many years, molded exactly to the shape and maneuvers that Chan needed. He tried to maintain a slow pace, allowing for your cunt to stretch perfectly around him, wanting you to feel every inch of him; but it simply was too irresistible to resist. Chan wrapped his hands around your ankles, lifting your limbs in the air and stretching them as far as they could go before kneeling on his knees as he began to flat out pound your busy. His pace was not as fast no, by the velocity of the thrusts was truly toe curling. Your jaw dropped to the floor if it could, the bedhead surely denting the walls at the arms as each time his hope made contact with your contact, a large noise resembling a slap occurred. Your husband was usually not as rough, but it’s not that you’re complaining at all. It was rare that he would just throw you around like this, usually if he was frustrated or that you had been away. So really, you should have seen this coming. Maybe it was what provoked you to reply to his lustful text in such a similar manner; whatever you have been doing it was right seeing as he was making your pussy cry with arousal.

Chan’s teeth sunk into your left calf, a string of large huffs and puffs escaping from his chest as he put all his mighty effort into each thrust, your husband breathing heavy at the combination of his force and pleasure he got from fucking you like that. His eyes ogled however, at how easily your tits bounced back and forth.

“Fuck,” you shouted, “s-so rough.”

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, keeping your legs in the air as your pulled him by the neck, foreheads accidentally smashing foreheads together with a significant force, “you’re fucking me like you want to put another kid in me.”

“Maybe I do,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your lips in between, “maybe I should put another kid in you.”

God the way he talks, especially like that, turns you on so much. Your hands now travel back to the familiar spot of his back, pulling his chest against yours as he picked up his pace, thrusts much smoother with rhythm as your eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the back of the pillow ad your husband relentlessly fucked your pussy. A deep breath blew from your lips, an insufficient try to maintain your composure as your husband refused to set a forgiving speed.

“Fuck your pussy,” he growled, unable to finish his sentence.

“Yeah baby?”

“Mine,” he huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as he pinned your upper limbs next to your head, head dipping down back to your breasts, a ferociously lick on your left nipple before he continued, “Fuck I’ll fuck another fucking child into that fucking pussy if you want me to.”

Chan became a menace when he reached his peak horniness, and during this timeline, that was right now. Anyone who met or knew Chan, as a well-respected friend, colleague, or even a stranger, knew that was one of the most polite people that you could possibly have the pleasure of meeting. Not one to swear, always use his manners and respect other people’s time and values. However, it was only you who got to see the truly feral side of him, like this, cursing his head off. It was only at this point did he forget that facade of a well-mannered gentleman. Chan was certainly not polite or gentlemen like when he fucked you, and it was a guilty pleasure of yours. It always aroused you to hear him say ‘fuck’, mumble a ‘motherfucker’ or ‘shit’ under his breath, even just in normal dialgoue. So when he said it during sex, it truly was one of the hottest fucking things your had ever seen.

“Do it,” you mumbled, unable to use your full voice, “put a kid in me.”

“Really?”

His head snapped up immediately, lips moving back to your own, pecking you one more time, but with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” you smiled, fingertips spreading across your husband’s cheeks, “you have my permission.”

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

Chan’s hands snuggled under your back, scooping you and placing you up right on him, cock still inside of you as he sat up himself, keeping you close to his torso as he scooched the end of the bed. He let out a groan as he stood up, hands trailing to your hips as began to bounce you. A new level of sound escaped your lips at the new angle he was hitting inside of your pussy. It was smart to keep your arms enclosed around his neck, head buried into his chest as he still managed to keep the same pace. You really didn’t know how much more of this you could handle; the pressure in your body was building. The pit of your stomach was making its way to your final high, and your muscles were tightening in conjunction. The room’s scent was full of sweat, but also passion. Sweet sweet passion and sweet sweet love filled the four nostrils in the room, bringing you even closer to the edge.

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you okay baby?”

“I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined, “I'm gonna cum so hard.”

“Oh me fucking too baby,” he fritted through his jaw breaking teeth clench, “I’m about to blow so fucking hard.”

“Yeah?”

“All in this pussy,” he whined, placing you back down on the bed, “my pussy.”

“Mhm, all yours.”

Your husband kept your back arching off the edge of the bed, making sure that when let go of himself, that nothing but even a drop would drip out of your hole. His hips became erratic; you could tell that your husband would not last much longer. Not that you were far off either, but you know that the release of his seed would tip you over the edge.

“Fuck,” he cursed, hard, “Y/n I’m so sorry I’m gonna cum first.”

“It’s ok,” you whined, “I need your seed inside of me so fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you clenched, eyes dark with lust as he kept his gaze on you, “put a fucking kid in me.”

“I fucking love my fucking wife so much,” he spat, jaw falling agape as his load exploded, the ropes of your husband’s orgasm roping over and over inside of you, “I fucking love you so much.”

“Fuck Chan,” you screamed, your own orgasm washing over and sending you into a haze, “it feels so good inside of me.”

Your whine was so attractive to Chan that he leant down to kiss you one more time, before withdrawing his aching cock, falling to your side in a heavy breath. He was quick to get back into action, however, falling off the bed and grabbing your ankles again, lifting them off the floor and onto the bed, ensuring that not a lick of his load would fall out. A fat giggle escaped from your lips when you watched him do so.

“Fuck you were serious about that kid hey?”

He was already gone, annoyingly leaving you by himself. He was quick to come back however, returning with a glass of water and a banana from the kitchen bench, handing over to you without a second thought. Your lips turned into a smile automatically, practically chugging the water down to quench your thirst before peeling the banana open. Your husband took his spot next to you, lying on his side as he watched you with admiration. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious, hesitating before putting your lips anywhere near the fruit.

“I’m starting to think you got this fruit for a particular reason.”

“No,” he chuckled, “just eat it.”

You looked away from him as your lips ‘accidentally’ slipped down the banana, much past where necessary to take a bite. You could see your husband's jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye as your motion.

“What,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, “you were asking for it.”

“Fuck your lucky that your daughter is going to be home soon.”

#bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan smut #bang chan scenario #bang chan imagine #bang chan x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids x reader #ch4nb4ng

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redrose10 · 25 days ago

Note

Could you do arranged marriage with yoongi, prompt 68, and a happy ending🥺

I hope this is okay!

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, hints of cheating, slightly suggestive, mentions of being drunk

#68 “Seems like you have to sleep here tonight”

When you first entered into an arranged marriage with Min Yoongi you did your best to try and make it work. Sure it wasn’t ideal and you would’ve rather fallen in love on your own terms but it was done and over with and you were determined to try your best and make things work.

The first time he broke you down though was on your wedding night. His parents had rented a large suit at the most luxurious hotel in the city so that the two of you wouldn’t have to travel far after the reception. You were nervous but hopeful and maybe even a little excited. You changed out of your big ball gown of a dress and were waiting on the bed for Yoongi. When the door finally swung open you perked up a little only to be shot down when he grabbed his clothes and told you he had booked his own room to sleep in and then left without sparing you a glance. You spent your wedding night cold and alone in a king size bed while your new husband was doing who knows what. A crack formed in your heart that night.

The next time he chipped away at that crack was a few months later. It was his birthday and you had spent the entire day cooking all of his favorite foods. It was a lot of work but you really wanted to impress him. He told you he’d be home at his normal time so the table was set and you had changed into a nice dress and had lit some candles. You waited and waited and thirty minutes late turned into two hours late turned into six hours late. Finally around 2am he came walking through the door completely ignoring you and all of the food that was now cold and ruined. After questioning him he let you know that his friends threw him a surprise party that you apparently had never been made aware of and he forgot to tell you he was going to be home late. He tried to apologize but you fought back tears as you shoved his present into his chest and stormed off to your bedroom. The crack in your heart grew quite a bit that night.

There were other things that chipped away at it here and there. Hurtful words and spiteful glares. The few times you would go out of your comfort zone and wear something to try and get his attention but he’d never do more than look in your direction before turning his attention elsewhere. There was the way he always introduced you simply by your name, never Mrs. Min or even My Wife. It made you feel like he didn’t want people to know.

There were moments of positivity though. The two of you talked a little bit. You both had a love for music which started many conversations. He sent you roses on your birthday. And you swore he showed the tiniest bit of jealousy when you ran into your physical trainer, Jungkook. You couldn’t quite make it out but you know you heard him mumble something about how he could have muscles like that if he really wanted to before telling you the car was ready even though it wasn’t and you two had to stand outside in the rain for an extra ten minutes. You got the feeling he just wanted to get you away from Jungkook.

One evening though, he finally shattered your heart beyond repair. Another night where he came home way later than he should have. You heard a loud crash in the living room followed by lots of giggles. You rush out there and found him stumbling around drunk out of his mind after having knocked over a vase. His two friends, Namjoon and Jimin, were off to the side not completely sober themselves but seemingly more coherent than your husband was.

Yoongi coming home drunk wasn’t anything knew or shocking. You were used to it by now. So you didn’t think twice when you went to help him up and get him in bed only to be stopped when you saw the large purple and red bruise on this neck. You threw his arm down like it had electrocuted you.

It had always been in the back of your mind that he was possibly cheating. You two had been together for many many months at this point never having done anything like that and it was starting to affect even you. You always pushed those thoughts away though but here was the evidence right in front of you.

Yoongi was too drunk to defend himself. Jimin and Namjoon begged you to listen to them as they could explain what happened but you didn’t care to hear it.

You stormed off back to your room leaving Yoongi passed out on the living room floor and his friends to sneak out knowing there was going to be a fight. That was the moment you fully closed yourself off from him and decided that you two were nothing more than business partners for photo-ops and charity events.

You spent the next year barely speaking or even seeing each other. The first couple weeks

Yoongi tried to explain what happened but you were having no part of it so eventually he gave up. You had bought your own apartment on the other side of the city and only interacted with him at events and family get togethers.

And then one day yours and his parents dropped a huge bombshell that you were not expecting. They wanted to know why the two of you had not produced an heir yet. You couldn’t help but laugh because the two of you were barely even on speaking term so how were you supposed to start a family. That opened up a whole bunch of questions from your families leading to them suggesting the two of you needed to spend time together to try and work on your relationship. It was non-negotiable and before you knew it plans were made and plane tickets were booked against your will.

And that’s how you found yourself alone with Yoongi in a snow covered cabin up in the mountains several hours away from your home.

“I am not sleeping in the same bed as you.”, you spat after you found out it was a one bedroom home.

“Okay sleep outside in the snow then. I don’t really care Y/N.”, he mumbled walking out of the bedroom.

You rolled your eyes but had already accepted that you would be spending a sleepless few nights on the couch because you refused to give in.

After the long trip all you wanted was a hot shower and to get into your comfy pjs so that’s what you did. By the time you were finished the cabin was filled with a heavenly aroma and you found Yoongi in the kitchen. There were two plates of food sitting on the counter. He had made your favorite. When he noticed you he gently slid one over in your direction and for the first time since the beginning of your marriage you felt something other than disdain for him. But you weren’t going to let him know that.

“Are you trying to poison me?”, you questioned.

“Eat it or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”

You felt a little bit of guilt watching him grab his plate and sulk over to the table. Quietly you took the second plate and joined him. You both sat in silence with him scrolling on his phone and you just staring at the snow falling outside the window. It seemed like a blizzard was forming as the snow fall had picked up quite a lot since you arrived.

“It’s snowing quite a bit. I hope we don’t loose power.”, you whispered while somewhat trying to gage his reaction to you speaking to him.

He nodded, “yeah I hope not.”

And as if the universe was playing a joke on you the lights flickered once…twice…and then the entire cabin went dark.

“You have to be kidding me.”, Yoongi grumbled before getting up to look for the fuse box.

While he was gone you got a notification from the rental company letting you know there was a power outage in the area due to the snow storm and the current time estimate for it to be fixed was at least 48 hours.

When Yoongi returned you showed him the text which only soured his mood more. He walked into the bedroom and returned a few minutes later bundled up in several layers.

“Where are you going?”, you asked concerned.

“Well without electricity we won’t have any heat. I saw an ax on porch. I’m gonna go chop some wood so that we can build a fire to keep warm.”

“Okay let me get dressed and I’ll come help you.”, you said already walking towards the bedroom. He stopped you furiously shaking his head, “No absolutely not.”

You felt a little hurt that he was so adamant against you going with him but you also knew you couldn’t really blame him either so you stopped your movements as he asked.

He must’ve noticed your reaction because he cleared his throat, “It’s cold and dangerous out there. Just stay in here and enjoy the warmth before it’s gone. I shouldn’t be long.”

You nodded and watched as he closed the door behind him.

You had gotten all the dishes cleaned up and were waiting around for Yoongi. He had been gone quite a while and you were starting to get worried. So you decided to get dressed and were about to head out when he came walking him struggling to get the door to close behind him thanks to the wind. His cheeks were flushed bright red from the cold as he dropped several logs of wood into the fireplace. Within a few minutes he had a fire going that slowly filled the room with much needed warmth.

The two of you sat on the couch in silence just watching the flames move and listing to the crackling of the fire.

After some time Yoongi left and returned with several pillows and blankets. He started laying them out in front of the fire place.

“Seems like you’ll have to sleep here.”, he said looking at you, “We’ll both have to sleep here.”

Your first instinct was to argue against it but then you felt a chill down your spine and you knew you would never make it through the night in the bedroom. So you nodded and joined him underneath your own blanket while he had his and you still made sure there was a considerable distance between the two of you.

The soft glow and the sounds provided by the fire were comforting and you could feel yourself slipping off to sleep fairly quickly until you heard Yoongi shift beside you for probably the hundredth time.

“Yoongi are you okay?”, you asked half concerned half annoyed.

“Yeah sorry. It’s just still so cold it’s hard to get comfy.”

You thought for a moment before taking a deep breath, “D-Do you want to get under the same blanket? We can use our combined body heat to keep warm.”

He became so quiet and still you almost felt embarrassed for even asking until he nodded and lifted up his blanket to give you space to get underneath it.

There was an immediate increase in warmth but you thought it was probably thanks to your body’s rising temperature from being so close to Yoongi.

The room returned to a noticeable silence until it was Yoongi who cleared his throat, “Y/N can I tell you something?”

“Mmhm.”, you nodded.

He took a deep breath, “I’ve never cheated on you.”

You were surprised he was bringing this up so nonchalantly and out of nowhere.

He continued, “That night…That night when I came home drunk and I had that bruise it wasn’t what you think. I was out having some drinks and there was this guy. He came up to me and was talking all this shit about me and my family and stuff. I tried to ignore him. But then…then he called you a gold digging whore and he said he’d take you off my hands for $5 because that’s all you were worth. I got pissed that he was talking about you like that and punched him and then there was a fight and I got hit with something. Maybe a glass or something. I don’t even know what it was but that’s where the bruise came from.”, he stayed silent for another moment, “I know I wasn’t the best husband from the start but I would never and have never been unfaithful to you.”

His words replayed over and over in your mind.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was angry and hurt that I wasn’t given a choice in this whole situation but you were the last person I should’ve taken it out on.”, he sighed before continuing, “I just wanted to put that out there. It’s bothered me for a long time and I figured since there’s nothing else to do right now I could take the time to finally say it.”

Your heart was racing as you fidgeted with your sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry too. I should have at least let you explain yourself before completely shutting you out.”, you whispered feeling a little bit guilty, “I just wanted you to give me…to give us a chance and I was hurt that you wouldn’t.”

The room fell into another silence other than the crackling of the fire but this time it was a little less tense.

“M-maybe we should start over. I promise I can be a good husband.”, Yoongi said after a while.

“You did build us a pretty nice fire so that’s pretty good husband stuff.”, you replied trying to lighten the mood a little. He chuckled, “Yeah that’s just the beginning of the things I can do for you.”

You smiled, “Okay let’s start from the beginning.“

He nodded before searching for your hand underneath the blanket. When he finally found it you intertwined your fingers with his.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”, he asked.

“I mean yes but I don’t think we need to start over that far back.”, you giggled as he squeezed your had.

“Yeah how far back should we go?”, he questioned.

You bit your lip debating your next move, “Well how about our wedding night?”

Yoongi chuckled before pulling you into a kiss, “Yeah I think that’s a good place to start.”

#bts #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi au #yoongi fluff #bts yoongi #arranged marriage au

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chaoticace2005 · 9 months ago

Text

You guys asked for it…

Why Lilith might have left Lucifer:

1. She lost interest. Simple at that. 10,000 years of the same routine…

2. She found out where Eve was and ran to her long lost love.

3. A deal was made with Alastor and she had to flee for her nefarious plans.

4a. Lucifer was bad in bed.

4b. He wouldn’t let her take off his hat while having sex.

5. Lucifer was good in bed and she was getting addicted, so for her own sake she left.

6. She had to get milk.

7. She took a look at hell after all her years of working, saw how fucked up humans are and said “nah.”

8. Donald Trump became president so she fled the country but forgot to take her family with her.

9. She could no longer deal with Lucifer’s ~autistic swag~

10. She got a coupon for an expense-paid trip to the Bahamas.

11. Lucifer wasn’t doing the DAMN DISHES.

12. Lucifer kept asking her to “quack” in bed.

13. There weren’t any good marriage counselors in hell. So she read drama books to fix her marriage and thought this was the best solution.

14. Lucifer got a sleep apnea machine and she couldn’t handle it anymore.

15. She bonked her head and completely forgot who she was. That’s why she scowls when Lute says “Lilith” at the end- because she has no idea who “Lilith” is.

16. Seven years ago Alastor killed Lilith. To cover his tracks he put on a wig and visibly left the cast as “her.”

17. SOMEBODY wasn’t putting the damn seat down. Do you think they have to deal with this in Heaven?

18. There was a silent uprising and assassination plot. She dealt with it all while Charlie and Lucifer remained oblivious, but is now being hunted.

19. Faked her death. Lucifer is somehow unaware that his wife even “died.”

20. Niffty blackmailed her into leaving.

21. They ran out of blond dye at the Hellmart and she couldn’t handle being the only one in the family without blond hair.

22. She felt the need to leave her family, build a luxurious pirate ship, hire random pirates, and sail the seas until she had a homoerotic relationship with a competing pirate and retired.

23. She too borrowed 50 grand from loan sharks, stole a car, and crashed it into a loan shark’s girlfriend (but that bitch had it coming!)

24. She went down in an airplane.

25. Fried getting suntanned.

26. Fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand.

27. Her feather allergy kept getting worse and she had to leave for her health.

28. Lucifer kept saying he was “magic in bed” and then would do magic tricks despite being a LITERAL ANGEL.

29. Susan.

30. Committed tax fraud and had to flee the country.

31. She was going to get bottom surgery after Lucifer’s top surgery and is still recovering. (Hell doctors SUCK okay??)

32. Lucifer wouldn’t admit that water is wet.

33. Lucifer was putting ketchup on his pancakes.

34. Lucifer wasn’t vibing with her BFF-girlboss-malewife-bestie Alastor. She couldn’t deal with the ~drama~

35. He wouldn’t stop talking about his Fantasy Sports team.

36. Needed to find some artistic inspiration because the whole “I’m in hell” thing is SO overdone.

37. Not a fan of the circus or clowns.

38. Mental health break. She’ll come back when she’s ready. Sometimes it takes a while.

39. She was KIDNAPPED.

40. Lilith is dead. That’s not Lilith. That’s a shadow version of Lilith made by Alastor who works for her killer (Eve?) That’s why she wears sunglasses. So we can’t see her eyes and the empty void behind them.

#catch the dumb references #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel crack #lilith hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lilith morningstar

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alaezasmystery235 · 2 years ago

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PILE 1 -> PILE 2 -> PILE 3 -> PILE 4

↛ Paid Readings ↛Pick a Cards

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒹 ; 𝗚𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗕𝗶𝗴 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗮.𝗸.𝗮 𝗪𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗗𝗮𝘆

rules, disclaimer and notes ☆

⋆·˚ 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 ⋆·˚ ----- This reading was made for entertainment purposes only. this is obviously a general reading so takes what resonates and leave when it doesn't, you don't need to force your energy to read this and leave such a bad comment just to say it doesn't resonates with you at all because the answer is very obvious!

⋆·˚ 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 ⋆·˚ ----- All of the pictures are collected and downloaded from 'pinterest' i don't own any of them but credits goes to the rightful owners however edits goes and belong to me only @alaezasmystery . I use the editor tools canva and kapwing for the header and divider. Extra credit to @daninixx for giving permission to use her rules and disclaimer.

ＰＩＬＥ 1

First court marriage then there will be big luxurious wedding party . It's a royal wedding !!!! You'll look like a powerful person . That's your day and you're just not ready to share it with anyone . Your Future Spouse can be famous or has fame to their name . Many people will make posts of your wedding photo viral in social media .

Extra information :- owl , Tik tok , China , Sushi , Pens and highlighter , Baby cradle , Red hair , Green and black eyes , 5 ' 6 - 6 ' 0 in height , garters , stockings , statement jewelry , diamond bracelet / heirloom , summer and June .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 2

Big fantasy wedding ceremony . There will be a huge celebration in your wedding . You'll look so gorgeous and luxurious on that day . You're manifesting a successful huge ceremony . I'm seeing many expensive gifts being given to you . A presence of child / children will be there too. Maybe you'll own a pet by then whom you treat like your own child.

Extra information :- Swan , Sunflower , mesh net , Zari works , minimal jewelleries , boots , blonde highlights , peach and white colours , grandparents , 2211 , 1818 , Name starting with R , S , W , U , 2009 , 1998 , 25 .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 3

Cute destination wedding is going here. Small amount of people are going to join your wedding . It's like a magical sacred union of two matured person. This wedding is going to be so intimate and exquisite. I'm seeing nature is included in your theme . Like beach , waterfall or ocean is present by your side. You'll look like an angel straight out of a fairytale .

Extra information :- Candles , fairy lights , cars , potluck , hotpot , 444 , piano , fluffy dresses , braids , ace of spades , Middle of the night by Elley Duhé , tulips , Netherlands , old photos , X , D , G , H , Ticket .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 4

Okay this is giving me destination wedding vibe !! It maybe a small wedding but this is going to take place in different place than yours . I'm seeing a very vintage vibe from here . You'll be radiating so much that day. A sense of pride is in the air. People will be talking about this for a while . Many of your family members will be shocked to see that you're finally getting married .

Extra information :- Old money , Manor , Dolce & Gabbana , Jesper , Finland , Bees , Long drives , 26 , 30 , 4+ years age gap , Teacher - Student vibes , Seashell , Mirror , Buddha .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

#pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a photo #tarot readings #free tarot reading #tarot reading #tarot community #free tarot #general tarot reading #channeled message #future spouse #future partner #alaezasmystery

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smellyraccooneatscheese · 5 months ago

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Yandere insecure husband x Kuudere afab reader

PART 1

Your husband has always worried about how you felt about him even after your marriage with him.

Your lack of affection to him and the fact that you smile so sweetly to your coworkers makes him want to mark you as his to make the world know that you are his and he is yours.

But poor clueless you, you didnt know that he was so insecure about your commitment to him that you don't even say you love him at the end of a call.

Maybe its because of you're trauma of showing your feelings. (but oh well atleast this is a great lore)

One day, you we're sitting on the bed. Peacefully reading your favorite book.

Then, suddenly your usually care-free husband walks up to you with a rather scary look.

You ignored it, thinking it might be a bad day for him or something but, before you knew it you were swept from the bed and carried outside, reaching the car before being shoved inside.

He went inside before slamming the door and driving to somewhere secluded from everyone and everything.

"Where the fuck are we going!?" you asked in an angry tone, glaring at him. But, he just looked at you, terrifyingly empty eyes not saying anything.

This is not like your carefree and loving husband, its almost like it was the same body but different souls but, you knew that, that's your husband.

Before you can utter another word you saw a mansion a but one it was beautifully eery like it was built her on purpose.

Suddenly your husband open the door and lift you up going inside the mansion and being greeted by maids and butlers.

"W-what the fuck is this!?" you yelp punching his back to let him put you down but, it was like your punches were mere massages for him. Continuing his walk in the mansion before opening a door.

Behind the door is a glorious and luxurious room, designed for two people and one king size bed, almost like he was preparing this since the moment he asked for your hand in marriage.

He locked the door, dropping you gently on the bed before cupping your face and giving you small pecks.

"My love, this will be our new home." he said in a lovesick tone, kissing your palm before grinning.

"WHAT!?"

#male baby trapping #lovesick #yandere #madly inlove x oblivious #yandere husband

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sarahowritesostucky · 10 months ago

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📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen

Word Count:

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, hurt/comfort, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, got to the masterlist

6. A Honeymoon

This Chapter: Steve looks at him pointedly. “I’m pretty relaxed when it comes to matters of protocol - if it concerns just the two of us or our Third. But in company I’ll expect you to mind yourself. Understood?”

Except for being trampled by a carriage and almost losing his arm, taking a boat over the Atlantic winds up being the worst experience of Bucky’s life.

It’s neat, at first. Bucky’s only ever travelled by boat once before, and Steve has booked them tickets for a first-class suite on a luxury liner. A week after their wedding, they drive to the harbor, Steve and Bucky in one car and two of their servants and all the luggage in another.

At the docks are a number of newspaper reporters, all standing around and yelling out for a comment. It’s to be expected for a newly-married Senatorial couple such as them, but annoying all the same. Bucky heads straight for the gangplank, ready to walk-on-by and ignore the shouts completely. It’s been drummed into him since childhood: never give the press an unauthorized interview.

So he’s taken aback when Steve grabs his hand and pulls him over to address the reporters. Bucky looks at Steve with wide eyes, but his husband is already speaking to the nearest photographer, who’s asked them if they’re off for their honeymoon. “Yes,” Steve says, an easy smile gracing his face. Surprised, Bucky stands there like a dolt while Steve takes questions and engages politely with the reporters.

How liberal of him, Bucky thinks. It’s certainly unexpected from someone like Steve, who’s a goddamn member of the Senate. These are nothing but a bunch of gossip rag sidewalk paparazzi. Even they seem shocked that they're being given the time of day. Normally men of Steve's stature stick their noses up at anything but the most coordinated of interviews, arranged and conducted by seasoned journalists from only the most respected publications.

Bucky bites his lip as he watches Steve, looking at his smile, his bright eyes. He’s so handsome, he can’t help but think. Why the hell would someone like that ever consider marrying someone like him? Bucky averts his eyes when Steve turns his head and catches him staring.

“Captain Rogers: Is it Europe then, where you and the Lord Rogers will be travelling?”

“Yes. England, and then we’ll be touring the continent,” Steve says. The other reporters bark out more questions, asking for private details about their wedding and their plans for the future, but Steve shuts them up with a raised hand. “I’m sorry gentlemen, ladies, but that’s all. We need to board now.” He directs Bucky back towards the ramp, and it’s with the sounds of still-squawking reporters at their backs that they board the ship.

Their staterooms are finely furnished but small.

Bucky figures that since they have a sitting room separate from the bedroom, and a private promenade, these accommodations must be quite spacious—for a ship. The servants put the luggage away, then excuse themselves to settle into their own cabins down in second class.

That leaves Bucky to wander about and look things over. He pokes his head into the bedroom. There’s a dressing table and a door that leads to the bath. The room has a bed with posts and a canopy, tucked right up against the wall. It's clearly meant for two people, but it is much, much smaller than the bed he and Steve shared on their wedding night.

That had been nearly a week ago. Steve had travelled to D.C. to set his Senatorial affairs in order before their trip abroad, and Bucky had stayed in his own family's home. Aside from Becca's teasing and Prudence asking naughty questions about 'marital activities', Bucky's almost been able to forget that he's married at all.

But now they're on the ship, in luxurious but cramped quarters—and with a bed sized to match. Bucky swallows and eyes the small frame, thinking about how he’ll be sleeping there with Steve for the next eleven days …

“Bucky?"

He inhales sharply, shaking himself from his thoughts "Coming!" He goes back out to the sitting room, where Steve is standing and looking about the room with a proud smile. "Well, what do you think? I made sure to book one of the finest staterooms. It's nice, right?"

It's fucking gorgeous, but Bucky isn't going to say so just so Steve can preen over himself. He shrugs. "Sure. I guess so."

The light in Steve's eyes dims a little, but he recovers. “There's a promenade," he offers brightly. "Want to see outside?”

Bucky huffs as if put-upon, even though he does want to see, and follows Steve onto the promenade. It’s nice—light and airy, with wicker furniture and large windows that can be opened to let the sea breeze in. Steve flops down onto one of the chairs and Bucky walks over to the windows, sliding one open and looking out. Their stateroom is on the side of the ship that faces the docks, and he observes all of the pedestrians and dock workers moving around on the street below. Some are passing by, others have stopped to look up at the ship as all of its passengers and luggage are brought on board. Below, the muddy harbor water sloshes gently against the bottom of the ship, and Bucky leans out over the edge of the window, trying to see if there are any barnacles clinging to the—

“Bucky!” Steve’s hands are suddenly on him, yanking him by his coat.

"Wha—oof!"

Steve pulls him back into the room, maintaining a harsh grip on his upper arm as he shuts the window. He turns and glares at him. “You could have fallen!”

Bucky jerks away from his hold. “No I couldn’tve,” he snaps. “Jesus, I was just looking. I’m fine. What’s your problem?”

"You could've been hurt," Steve insists. "Or killed! You have to be more careful."

"More careful than what?" Bucky scowls. He stalks away, not noticing the other man's pained expression as he watched him go.

Steve gives him his space after that, telling Bucky that he’s going down to arrange their dinner reservations, and that he’ll be back in a bit. Bucky waits, intending to bide his time in the cabin, but there’s really nothing to do, and it gets boring after only a few minutes.

So he decides he’ll explore the ship. He heads out, not unaware that he should probably be waiting for Steve, or at least leaving him a note telling him where he’s going. It is a big ship, after all. But he ignores the consideration. Steve can figure it out for himself. Bucky’s an adult, and even though Steve's his Headship, he hadn’t told Bucky to stay put. Bucky smirks as he leaves their stateroom and takes the lift down, thinking about Steve returning to the room to find it empty.

The ship, Bucky concludes, is ridiculous.

He stops a steward and asks about what he might see, and the man directs him to several attractions. There’s the day lounge, the smoking lounge, the bar, the library, the gym, the squash courts and the swimming pool. There’s a goddamn Turkish bath, of all things! Bucky can’t imagine what person thought that they needed one of those. God forbid they cross an ocean without the essentials.

It takes a long time to tour most of the ship. At least an hour goes by before Bucky makes his way up to the public promenade and sits on a deck chair, tired and ready to people-watch. He’s relaxing, enjoying the busy sounds of the ship and the dockside, when all of a sudden someone down the way is exclaiming,

“There you are!”

He startles, head turning to see Steve approaching looking quite harried. Oh. Bucky tucks his lips in, trying hard not to smile. “Oh, hey Steve.”

Steve comes over and stands there with his hands on his hips, staring down at him. “I’ve been looking for you for over an hour!”

Bucky shrugs. “I went for a walk.”

“A walk?!” Steve huffs. “What on earth was so important that you couldn’t have waited for me to get back?” He glares at him. “I had half a mind that you’d gotten off the ship!”

Bucky laughs out loud at that. Even he wouldn’t literally jump ship to escape his new husband. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that,” he drawls. “It’s an idea though.”

Steve’s face darkens, and he is not amused. Growling, he grabs Bucky by the scruff of his shirt and yanks him up. “Come on,” he says, verging on using his Voice. “We’re going back to the room.”

“Sit,” he says, the moment he’s got the door to their suite shut. He points at the couch. “There. Now.”

Bucky gulps. He’s never been on the receiving end of an alpha’s Voice before. Truth be told, he’d always expected that it wouldn’t have much of an effect on him. He’s beta: omegas are the ones who are supposed to be compelled. But Bucky definitely feels something. Steve’s Voice puts a slight urge in his brain, an itch to obey. Coupled with the fact that he's wary of his husband's anger, it motivates him to plant his butt exactly where Steve just pointed.

He doesn’t have to do this, he reminds himself stubbornly. He doesn’t have to obey Steve’s command. … It just feels better if he does. Bucky grits his teeth and tells him, “You don’t have to Voice, alright? I’m here. I won’t run off again.”

Steve’s features lift a bit, whether in surprise or relief is unclear. “Okay,” he says, and yeah, it’s relief. He comes to join Bucky on the couch. “I was really worried, Bucky.”

Bucky hates the honest look that’s on Steve’s face right now, hates the hurt pinch in his brow. It tells him that Steve is a good man, is just concerned for his safety. Bucky feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment at having to be scolded like a child. “Sorry,” he mutters, hoping that it'll be enough to satisfy whatever his husband needs to hear from him.

“Promise me you won’t go running off again,” Steve says. He’s not using his Voice anymore, but his tone is imploring. “On this ship or elsewhere. We’ve got stops planned all over Europe. I won’t be able to relax if I constantly have to worry about you disappearing.”

Bucky frowns. Sure, he’d disappeared for an hour or two, and maybe he’d enjoyed the fact that he knew it would annoy Steve, but that wasn't why he'd done it. Bucky had honestly wanted to see the ship. He tells Steve so, saying, “I just wanted to explore. I won’t run away.”

Steve nods, seemingly satisfied. “Okay. Thank you, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that. He feels suddenly awkward, sitting on the couch next to Steve; his husband, his Headship, the alpha who just a week ago had held Bucky tight to his body, jerked him off, and fucked his spend all over his thighs. Bucky swallows heavily at the memory. “I ...” he starts, needing to put some space between them. “Steve, I … need to use the bathroom.”

Steve frowns lightly. “Well go ahead. Jeez Buck, you don’t have to ask permission.”

Bucky shoots up from the couch, eager to get away because he's not sure he can keep himself from flinging out a nasty rebuttal, if he stays sitting there much longer.

They dress in tails for dinner in the ship’s finest and most exclusive dining room. Steve leads Bucky in by the arm, all eyes turning to watch them as they enter. Thankfully, everyone else in this part of the ship is just as, or nearly as, wealthy and important as Steve and Bucky are, so it isn’t long before most of the eyes trail away and their owners return to their previous conversations, two members of minor American royalty of no special note to them. Steve guides Bucky in the direction of their table, at which point they are accosted by two people.

“Captain Rogers!”

One of them Bucky recognizes. He’s Henry Mills, youngest son of Senator Mills of New Jersey, the man who used to be Bucky’s father’s counterpart—No longer, he thinks bitterly.

You’re the Lord of nothing!

He can still hear his mother's hissing rebuke from that day. He blushes, embarrassed to have to stand in the company of his old schoolmate like this. Before, as both a Senatorial heir and as a beta, Bucky would've been considered above Henry in status. But now all that's changed. He’s sure Henry must be thinking about House Barnes’ scandal, as word has undoubtedly gotten 'round to the more important families of society by now. Soon enough it’ll be in the papers and everyone will know. Bucky cringes at the thought.

Steve starts up a stilted conversation of pleasantries with the alpha who introduces himself as Henry’s husband—Lord Jamison, Senator of Ohio. Henry is omega and a younger son, two very simple reasons why he was never going to inherit his father’s Seat. Bucky thinks dejectedly about how now the two of them have ended up in very much the same place; married to alpha Senators to maintain their positions in Society. The only difference between them is their designation, and it’s glaring. Henry’s stomach is noticeable beneath his waistcoat and dinner jacket. He’s pregnant.

“Yes,” Jamison is saying. “We’re very excited to be starting a family.” He wraps his arm possessively around Henry’s waist, drawing him closer against his side. “And we’re thinking we may have found our third. A beta from Maine. She’s just a daughter of one of the elected, but even still, she’s a very nice girl. Don’t you think, Sweetheart?”

Henry nods, one hand migrating to his stomach as he gazes up at his husband in adoration. “Yes,” he says. “It’s been a wonderful first year. We’re very fortunate.” He returns his attention to Bucky and Steve, saying, “You must be looking forward to setting up your Household, when you get back.”

It’s framed as a question, and since it’s clearly been aimed at Bucky, he feels compelled to answer, “Um, yes?” It’s a terribly awkward answer, and the uncomfortable silence that follows it makes him want to shrink away. Henry’s so obviously in love with his Headship, and meanwhile Bucky is just … not. He feels guilty for making it so obvious.

Hadn’t they come there to eat dinner? He doubts he’ll have much of an appetite after this. He's been feeling a tad bit queasy since the ship departed that afternoon, and he desperately hopes that he won’t be prone to seasickness. “We’re moving into Steve’s brownstone,” he says, trying to offer something useful to the conversation. “It’s in Brooklyn.”

Jamison laughs. “Oh, how terribly chic of you. Such an eclectic place.” ‘Eclectic’, Bucky knows, is a euphemism for ‘common’. “You’ll have a lot to see there,” the alpha says. “I’ve heard they’ve made great progress in gentrifying some of the neighborhoods.”

Bucky looks to Steve, who is smiling a fake smile with tight eyes. “Yes, it’s nice. My favorite of all our residences.”

All our residences? Bucky thinks. All our residences? He tries to reign in his reaction. He hadn’t known that Steve owned more than one property, though it does make sense, given his wealth. He makes a mental note to ask Steve later about where the other houses are.

“Well, we really must take our seats,” Steve excuses. “I think I’ve seen our waiter divert himself twice, now.” He chuckles, and even that is fake, though Bucky isn’t sure the Jamisons can tell. “Gentlemen,” Steve says, and the couple bids them a polite goodbye. Steve waits until they’ve stepped away before he guides Bucky to sit at their table. “They seem nice,” he says, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap. Bucky follows suit.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess.”

The waiter arrives and asks Steve what they’ll have. He doesn’t address Bucky, as it’s traditional for Headships to order for their spouses. Bucky is annoyed but not surprised. He speaks up right after Steve’s asked for lobster and before he can order for Bucky. “I’ll have the duck à l’orange,” he says.

The waiter seems tense for a moment, eyes flicking to Steve to assess his reaction. Steve gives a slight nod, and the waiter relaxes. “Very good Sir. I’ll tell the chef.” He turns and walks on to the next table.

“You don’t mind, do you Steve?” Bucky asks sweetly, waiting for his husband to scold him for the embarrassment. But it doesn’t come.

“No, I don’t,” Steve says, smiling slightly when Bucky looks at him with surprise. “I’m pretty relaxed when it comes to matters of protocol.”

“Oh?”

He nods. “When it concerns just the two of us or our Third, yes.” He looks at Bucky pointedly. “But in company I’ll expect you to mind yourself. Understood?”

Bucky wants so badly to say that no, it’s not understood, but that would be embarrassingly childish, even for him, so he reins himself in. “Sure,” he says.

“Good.”

They sit in silence, uncomfortable, until Bucky blurts, “Where are your residences?”

Steve's mouth quirks. “Well for one, they’re our houses now, seeing as we’re married. And they’re in Brooklyn, the Hamptons, Washington D.C., Manhattan, London and Paris. The latter three are only apartments, but they’re sizeable. I especially enjoy the Paris residence. We’ll be staying there for part of the trip. I'll look forward to hearing your opinions on each, you know." His expression turns fond. "Especially about our house in Cobble Hill. That's to be our family home."

Bucky fights to keep his face neutral, but internally he’s impressed. House Barnes has only ever kept residences in Paramus and Washington D.C. Ruefully, he thinks of how his mother and sisters will likely be forced to move to a different house now that their Senatorial status is about to be revoked, the only thing keeping them in Society being Bucky’s marriage to Steve. For that, he is grateful. He nods and fiddles with his silverware. “That’s nice,” he says.

Steve smiles. “Have you ever been to France?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. I um, I went with my father to a state dinner in London once, back when I was introduced to Society, but it was brief. We didn’t go to the continent.”

“I see. Well I think you’ll enjoy yourself on our trip. I’m looking forward to showing you the sights.”

Bucky nods, not disagreeing but silent on the matter. Secretly, he’s been kind of excited to go on this honeymoon with Steve. He’s never traveled much, and touring Europe with a gorgeous Alpha is hardly a hardship. The only catch being that Bucky has to be married to him.

Their meal arrives before too long, and he's able to distract himself with the food. He drinks the wine that the sommelier suggests—a floral red that compliments the duck—and is pleased when Steve doesn’t protest his request of a second glass. Dessert is a rich chocolate cake, and Bucky nearly moans by the time he’s enjoying the last bite. When he finishes and glances up, Steve is looking at him with a mixture of amusement and desire. Bucky blushes. “Um, do you want to go to the smoking lounge, maybe? Have a brandy?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve had enough, and it's been a long day. Shall we head back to the room?”

Bucky swallows, nodding meekly and standing to take Steve’s offered arm. He thinks about what they’re going to do when they get back to their quarters. Will Steve undress him? Expect to have sex? Bucky’s thoughts drift back to their first night together; how Steve had handled him gently, made him come …

Steve guides him from the dining room. On the way out, they pass by Senator Jamison's table, and Bucky catches Henry Mills shooting him a friendly look—almost one of understanding, as though the two of them are Societal equals.

With a strange twinge in his gut, Bucky realizes that now they are.

Series Masterlist

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year ago

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lol, maybe its just me but I definitely think this is meghan running 3 different storylines in one and none of them are truly cohesive, so it comes across as very disingenuous. The first and only one I think may work long term is the patch thing. It fits her vibe and really the only truthful thing she's done. The second are the brands and her outfit, it's clear she was at least partially aiming for a fall mood board pin on Pinterest. the old money vibe that is all over instagram right now, the "no flashy, understated wealth" fit. Alot of these aesthetics are pulled from or based around royalty; the castles, boarding schools, yachts, brands the everyday person has no idea about. That is fundamentally not her. She's spent the last three years shunning everything about that lifestyle. She LOVES brand names. The last one is the missing engagement ring. Man I'm convinced that car cash debacle and harry attending last minute killed her plans of soft launch divorce. She's been laying the ground work since December of last year when the the Netflix series wasn't well received at all. She followed it up by not being pictured with in for any book interview or attending the coronation. That award photo she was completely over doing the I love him SO MUCH stuff. It swung so hard in the opposite direction that general public don't see a problem with the no ring even though she really really wants them too. If thought rumors keep getting shut down it's not going to be as shocking or as potent as she likely wants it to be. She's diluting the press with random stories right now, probably because she hasn't pulled any big brands.

The article in P6 was snarky too, and basically alluded to harry not wanting the children photographed at all, but that meghan does. I really wouldn't be shocked if she brings Archie to invictus games in September. It would give her attention and press shes craving with her own children.

“Quiet Luxury” a la Meghan, lol.

But that’s actually her target audience, so it’s not a bad strategy. It’s just that Meghan’s execution always falls short. Ditch the coat and put on some sneakers and that outfit would be perfect. Or ditch the scarf and bag. It was just too much.

They’re also trying to strike a balance between making the divorce palatable to people by hinting at it constantly, and keeping the surprise factor by claiming the marriage is going well. Again, it’s not a bad strategy, but the execution is off. Buying sunglasses for Meghan? As if.

I don’t think the kids will be at Invictus, but I imagine they are having tense discussions as to who gets to monetize the kids and how.

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hum-suffer · 4 months ago

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Didi Didi chp 6 kab ???

Arre shit, likh ke post karna hi bhul gayi 😭😭🖐🏻 I'm sorry

Of course, you'll hurt me 6 (Rajneeti)

Meeting Prithvi and Samar for the shopping is the first thing on her agenda and it's overwhelming.

Samar is wearing a white button up with a blazer and jeans, and Amrita remembers a time where he exclusively used to wear white t-shirts and white shoes on every Friday.

(On an impulse, she glances down. He's wearing white shoes. It's Friday.)

Prithvi is buzzing with energy, despite the hellish PR yesterday. To be seen with his kid brother, buying something for him, is a double edged sword. Some will claim how emotional must Prithvi be, so caring for his baby brother, with whom he's had to bear a separation for years. Samar's soft demeanor only helps in that narrative. Others, they will subject them to scorn for buying a luxury end product with the government salary.

Amrita sits in the front seat with Harsh while the brothers sit at the back, reading through the online opinions on Prithvi. It seems to be the general consensus that he's a bit arrogant but most people seem to think the arrogance suits him. Thankfully, Amrita has been able to mitigate the damage from yesterday to a minimum by spreading some "leaked" talks about Prithvi refusing any more grants than necessary and earning by his investments in several business and how he uses his government salary for charity every month.

Prithvi talks about some dream he saw last night, something about having an arranged marriage and he feverently shakes his head. "It was honestly a nightmare, Chhote. Why would I ever marry someone I don't like?"

"It's not that bad," Samar says, shrugging,"Mom and dad had an arranged marriage."

Prithvi rolls his eyes. "And look how that turned out. I want happiness and love in my marriage, not silent support and political gain."

Amrita clears her throat and gets out of the car as soon as Harsh parks the car, feeling strangely suffocated. Amrita doesn't care what happens to her, really, she can even live the rest of her life between books, following Prithvi and his heir and making sure that the party prospers. But she'd rather die alone and lonely then marry someone only to have an marriage like her parents.

Dev will never be forced to marry anyone he doesn't like, she vows to herself. Hell, she won't even insist him to marry if he wishes to remain a bachelor.

No fate is worse than being unloved so wholly.

She sees Samar stare at her with a look that she can't decipher but she ignores it, walking into the store with Abhinav, another security guard of Prithvi's. It's only after talking to the manager to provide Prithvi and Samar with privacy as well as the best possible suggestions that she leaves, wandering to where Prithvi and Samar are already browsing.

"Whatever you buy, leave a 10% tip for the manager," she advices Prithvi, not looking at Samar. "It's for your reputation."

Prithvi pulls her closer and winds an arm around her shoulders,"Chhodo yaar ye sab reputation. You're always making me do things for the public opinion."

"Because you keep ruining the public's opinion of you," she says back breezily. "I've got to make some calls to the creative team, you two continue with this."

She's about to turn and leave when she feels a brush of fingers against her arm. She looks back at Samar in question.

He freezes, like he didn't expect her to react to his touch. "Maybe you could buy a watch, too? If only you want one, Amu."

She shakes her head and holds up her phone. "I don't need a watch to know the time. Thanks."

Amrita walks away quickly before she can be held again, calling Archie. "Hi, my favourite reporter."

"Hello, my least favourite person."

"Harsh."

"You deserve it for threatening me."

"Technically," Amrita says,"I just threatened your career. And I gave you better news, didn't I? I did hear something about an incentive."

Archie laughs,"You're such a bitch. Go on. What do you want?"

"I'm going to need to meet you to give you some more information about Vijaynath's party. Very interesting information." She's already cleared it with Mamaji. They've both talked about it and they both know that sacrificing some people from the other party is the only way they'll change the topic for now. Offense is the best defence and all that.

Archie is silent for a while. Finally, he says,"Meet me at Surya palace today. 1 pm. Let's have lunch together."

"It's on me." She says, knowing that this small investment will go a long way. And really, it's not her money she'll be using. She's going to take Prithvi's card.

Archie huffs."I'll make sure to order the most expensive wine, then."

"I'm not your sugar mommy, no matter how badly you need one. And dress fucking well, if you wear garish clothes, I'll pour coffee on you." Amrita says, turning around to check on the brothers while jotting down the time and place on the palm of her hand.

Both of the brothers seem to have overheard her and Samar seems awkward like he always is, and Prithvi has raised his eyebrows.

Archie says something and cuts the call.

"Not a word, Prithvi bhaiya. Not a word." She threatens him, grabbing a bottle of water.

Prithvi shrugs. "I'm just saying, you're always talking about how I shouldn't spend time with Sharma."

"I'm not going to fuck him." She deadpans at him, ignoring the way a dark look passes over Samar's rigid eyes.

Prithvi turns back to the watches on display. "Yes, yes, that's why you were dictating what he should wear."

Amrita walks over towards them and stands beside Samar, completely ignoring him and looking over his back at Prithvi. "When I'm fucking someone, the world will know it. I don't do secret affection."

"Who says you need affection for that?"

"Who says I won't punch you for saying all this? Ever heard of the HR department?"

Prithvi smirks. "You're my little sister, you wouldn't complain."

Amrita rolls her eyes and looks back at the watches that Samar has selected, almost all of them have a round dial. But the one he has in his hand currently has a square dial. It's completely black with subtle golden accents. Amrita can't help but think that it matches the watch she's currently wearing.

She shakes the thoughts off and steps away. "I'm going to get tea for myself. You two want anything?"

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Most days, Samar struggles to maintain the shimmer of darkness that dances under the surface of his skin. It's always threatening to become into a forest fire.

The moment he overhears Amrita talk to some guy with such authority, his blood is swirling with need to talk to her and ruin the man if need be. He wants to be the one she has such rights over. She should dictate what he should do, not some random reporter.

Amrita claims she's not interested in the guy, and Samar swallowing subtly, swallowing the poisonous words back into his throat. She tells them she won't do silence affection and meaningless relations, and he feels something pierce and soothe his heart at the same time.

Amrita has always been loyal to a fault. Samar has known since they were teens that she will not be one casual relationships, not ever.

And yet, the words soothe his heart. He still knows her. She is still the same woman he knew, but she is also so much more.

She excuses herself to get tea and he sees Prithvi bhaiya shake his head and chuckle.

"She'll really hit you someday," Samar tells his brother in a half joke.

Prithvi bhaiya laughs and shakes his head. "Nah, she won't. And anyways, I could deduct from her salary if she hits me."

Samar raises his eyebrows. "Maa would buy her a gold medal if she can corral you into behaving, even if she has to use violence for it."

Prithvi bhaiya pouts at him mockingly. "You people have no respect for me. It's blasphemy."

"I don't think you're using that word correctly."

"Now you'll contradict your brother too?!"

Samar laughs at his dramatic brother and chooses the watch that matches Amrita's watch.

(He'd gifted her that watch, ten years ago. He's surprised to still find it on her wrist. He wonders what happened to the other gifts he bought her over the years on her birthdays. He stops himself from wondering what happened to that jean jacket she was wearing on the day he—)

Samar clears his throat and fiddles with his phone while Prithvi bhaiya pays for the watch. The background wallpaper on his phone is of Amrita, wearing his sunglasses. Prithvi bhaiya sent it to him yesterday, and he hasn't been able to take his eyes off.

When they walk out of the store with a new watch on his wrist, Samar sees Amrita's eyes dart down to his wrist and her grip tightens just so on the tea glass.

They wordlessly get back in the car.

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Samar gets to tag along to the meeting with Mr. Bajaj, because Prithvi and him had incessantly fought over what to eat. Prithvi wanted something spicy and Samar was craving something sweet.

Amrita was firmly in Prithvi's camp— she hated sweets and especially sweets so early in the morning just sounded horrible. Still, to maintain even a facade of professionalism, Amrita had refrained from taking any sides and had texted Dev instead.

That little shit was texting back in the middle of class, claiming that he hated the class because the subject was so boring. Amrita wanted to whack him over the head for being so overconfident.

However, now, sitting in Mr. Bajaj's office, Amrita wishes she was back in college and she could bunk this particular class. The day is beautiful, and she doesn't want to start it off by talking about politics and the implications of several PR moves.

Prithvi is the perfect son-figure to Mr. Bajaj. Extremely polite, unfailingly indulging and funny, and listening to his every word. Mr. Bajaj already seems besotted. If nothing else, Amrita knows that Prithvi is a good showman. He knows how to control his audience.

Amrita sits at the corner sofa, with Ritik, noting down the minutes of the meeting. Its tiring to keep with them, but the hour is well spent when they get up and Mr. Bajaj has a promise of a cheque ready on Prithvi's name for the near future.

"Thank you, Mr. Bajaj," she says, smiling widely at him. "I still apologise for the sudden rescheduling and I hope you're satisfied with the bargain between our collective powers."

Mr. Bajaj, a man who looks like every average Indian father, smiles genially at her and tells her,"The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Arya. Prithvi Babu is the icon of our future. He is fit to govern. I and Shiv Incorporation will always be here to assist in any way we can."

Prithvi and Samar talk pleasantly with Mr. Bajaj and Amrita turns to Ritik with a tired smile. Ritik frowns at her slightly. "Please, don't mind me saying this, but you don't look like you're particularly enjoying yourself."

Amrita raises her eyebrows and shrugs,"You have some courage, I'll give you that. And really, who actually ever enjoys meetings?"

"That's why I usually arrange meetings for Mr. Bajaj at meals!" He says,"At least I can fuck off to eat while he talks."

Amrita hums at him, absent-mindedly and gathers her purse with her as she stands up. "Next time, I'll keep that in mind."

As they're walking out of the building, Amrita spots Indu standing at the gates, leaning against her car with her arms crossed over her chest.

She risks a look at Samar and realises it's time. She'll become a choice for him again.

#desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #rajneeti movie

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