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ch4nb4ng · 1 year

Text

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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denwritesandcries · 9 months

Text

Call me Yours – N.S

Pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: You’re in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: NSFW minors dni, no crash!AU, cursing, arguing, jealousy, makeout session, thigh riding, slightly toxic behavior?? but it wouldn't be a yellowjacket relationship if it weren't just a little.

Note: Is it a secret relationship?? Friends with benefits??? I don't know man but they’re horny.

English is not my first language.

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio.

There is a party going on outside, students filling the rooms of Lottie's house with loud generic music playing in the background, but the small room you two were locked in remained silent, too silent.

“See ya’ in 7 minutes, ladies!” Van's mocking voice cuts through the air, but a knife could have done the same; the blonde snorts and you roll your eyes, fixing your gaze somewhere in the darkness so you don't have to face her.

“Ugh, how old does she think we are?” Natalie hisses, you can feel her eyes on your face, even though you can't see much more than the outline of her body at the moment.

You say nothing, arms crossed over your chest and a frown covering your face, Nat tries again:

“I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.”

“I get it,” you bite, just because you know her well enough to guess that she won’t stop complaining until she gets something out of you, “I get that you don’t want to be here, Natalie.”

She must finally realize how mad you are – mad at her – at the sound of her full name instead of the nickname that always seemed to be on the tip of your tongue, because you swear you can hear her teeth chattering when she shuts her mouth.

With a growl of frustration, you let your head hit the wall with a thud. Great, your night was already being shit, the last thing you needed was to end up playing 7 minutes in heaven with the person who was the cause of your bad mood. Simply amazing.

You see, Natalie had been acting weird for days now, randomly avoiding your company and acting like she didn't know you in the school hallways and being really rude to you during practice. Now, this might even be normal and acceptable behavior from the quiet blonde if you were anyone else, but you weren't. You are her girlfriend.

Are? Were? You don't know for sure anymore given the way she's been acting lately.

Maybe it wouldn't have made you so angry – confused? Yes. Sad? Definitely, but not angry like that – if it weren't for today, for the party.

You had planned to meet Nat at Lottie's party and corner her to finally make her explain what the hell is wrong, dammit, because one afternoon you're smoking with your girlfriend and friends quietly in the basement and the next she's throwing you daggers with her glance every time you open your mouth around her. Anyway, that's what you were going to do, until you found her in the Matthews' giant kitchen leaning against the counter with a cup of beer in her hand and Kevyn Tan practically throwing himself at her, keeping an arm full of spike bracelets wrapped around her shoulders and face with heavy makeup too close to hers to be considered friendly, drooling for Nat like he's always done since you've known about his existence.

Now that really pissed you off.

Who does that sad, emo, pitiful boy think he is to touch your girlfriend like that? And why is she letting him?

You think she could feel you fuming as you stared at them from the door, because the next second she lifted her head and looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights, as if she knew exactly that she was doing something she shouldn't have.

Screw it, you thought, if she'd rather act like you didn't matter anymore, then fine. You won't be standing just watching.

You turned around and only managed to disappear around the house for the next half hour before Taissa appeared with a tired frown and practically dragged you to where the group had gathered with an empty bottle, because Van and Jackie wanted to play something – 'If I'm in this, then you’re too!’ – and well, fuck.

You two have been completely quiet for almost a whole minute and that it's eating you alive; Nat has always handled silence well, you haven't.

Fidgeting with the hem of your own shirt angrily, you huff and give up on the tough act, the blonde straightens up when she hears your footsteps approaching her.

"What is happening?" Your voice comes out in a shamefully desperate tone, “Why are you acting like this with me? What did I do?"

You can see her now, being so close and now used to the dark; her fists are clenched, Natalie keeps her eyes fixed on your figure. For a moment, you think she's going to keep her cold facade and avoid your question with some sarcastic response, she most likely considered it, from the way her mouth opens and closes for a quick moment.

She turns her face to the side, trying to hide, but you can see the difference in tone in the paleness of her skin anyway. Oh, she's embarrassed.

“Nat?”

She mumbles something you don't understand, then your curiosity gives way to the anger and your hands find her face, turning it so Natalie is looking at you.

"What was this?" You ask again, softly this time.

“You called me your girlfriend.” She spits it out fast as if it were just a single sentence, rolling her eyes at your confused face, “You called me your girlfriend to everyone when we were smoking after practice last week.”

Oh, you remember that, when Jackie decided to lecture you all about the smell of smoke that lingered on her clothes after she and Shauna decided to tag along on one of your hangouts with Lottie, Van and Tai, turning up her nose and talking about how you all – and especially Nat – should stop with this habit. ‘Jackie, stop bothering my girlfriend!’, that’s what you said. Is that what made you spend a whole week grounded in the doghouse?

“...And isn’t that what we are?” You try, unsure. This conversation is not taking a very pleasant turn toward a reconciliation.

Nat bites hard her bottom lip, you can see her struggling with the next words:

“It’s just… no one was supposed to know.”

“Oh,” you mutter pathetically, sounding very much like a wounded puppy, “So that’s the problem.”

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

You can tell she regrets it the moment she says it, grabbing your hands in hers as you pull away.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I– I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you meant that then?” Your initial anger and frustration return with a vengeance, you move forward until Nat's back hits a shelf in the small room.

Natalie always does this. Avoid anything that labels your relationship as real; calling your dates ‘hangouts’, not touching you when there are people around, leaving your house before you wake up in the morning, avoiding kisses and caresses that don't initiate anything sexual, calling you ‘friend’ when you can see that the whole team knows this is not all you two are.

Still, – still – she always shows up at your house when she's upset; she doesn't like it when you miss your 'hangouts'; always stays close to you wherever you are together; gets mad when she sees you talking to other girls, even if they are nothing more than classmates; leaves marks all over your body, but doesn't let you do the same, spots and more spots all over your neck that are impossible to cover. People know that you're dating, they just don't know that you're dating Natalie.

And then she gets mad at you for finally putting a name to whatever this is and starts avoiding you completely, even though it's been months since it all started and you've known each other for years.

Nat gasps when your hands find her waist with a firm grip, bringing your lips closer to her ear:

“I’m gonna make you want me to be your girlfriend.”

You swear you feel the shiver that runs through her body. Nat smells like cigarettes and mint gum and it tastes the same when your mouth meets hers.

Her arms are around your neck before she's even processed what's happening, black painted nails playing with the hair on the back of your neck like it's second nature – and it is.

The way Natalie tilts her head to deepen the kiss and bites your lip hard when your hands come up to caress the skin under her shirt says your actions are much appreciated.

The husky, needy moan that escapes your throat when you realize she's braless, palming and massaging her soft skin brings a cocky smile to her face, she sighs, breaking the kiss and letting her head fall back against the shelf in satisfaction.

Nat doesn't moan, not like you do. She seems to want to hold back as much as possible, taking all kinds of reactions from you and your body, but not giving the pleasure of having the same from her. You want to change this.

You let your mouth roam from her strong jaw to her pale neck, leaving wet kisses, bites, and marks. Many marks. You bite the thin skin in different spots, soothing the bite with your tongue, hoping for the spots to form and stay there for days, for everyone to see.

You lazily slide a knee between her legs when you feel Natalie try to turn you around to take control. You usually let her do it, but not today. She squeals in surprise and pleasure, hips instantly grinding against you.

“Nah-ah, Nat,” you cut, bringing a hand down to slow the pace of her hips, “I guess you shouldn’t take anything today, or do you think I forgot about how much you paid attention to that little emo bastard earlier, huh?”

“You hate him that much, huh?” She tries to say in a mockery tone, wanting to turn the tables again, but it sounds pathetic as her voice breaks later in the last words.

“Yes,” you say easily, leaving a lingering kiss on her shoulder, finding her pulse point, “He was touching you. Touching my girlfriend.”

You bite down hard on the skin when Natalie turns her head to grant access and she moans, actually moans, fuck, you did it. A full sound, loud enough to make your pupils dilate until your irises almost disappear. This, this sound, you want to hear this forever.

It's been more than seven minutes, you think, or maybe our discussion was just really quick. You wonder if you would have time to take one of her breasts into your mouth, feeling the way she rolls her eyes and thrusts her hips against your thigh, now free from your hands, when you roll her nipples hard between your fingers.

She sighs as she receives another kiss from you, much softer now, more affectionate, feeling her hand tracing circles on your cheek.

A quick, loud knock on the door startles you both, making Nat jump and bang her head against one of the shelves behind her and knock something over, “Fuck!” She screams and you instinctively reach for her head to check for injuries.

You look at the source of the knock, it's definitely not Van calling, she would have opened the door at once just to laugh at your faces.

“Girls, time is over!” Jackie's voice sings on the other side.

“Ugh,” Natalie grunts, clearly frustrated at being interrupted so abruptly, she takes the opportunity to finally take a look at the closet as you head towards the door, “Is this some kind of pantry?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Rich people have so many random rooms scattered around their houses.”

There are loud whistles and jeers as you leave, half the football team gathered in the busy room and giving you knowing looks, you give Van the finger when she points out the traces of dark lipstick on your mouth.

“Were you guys actually going to fuck in there?” She teases, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.

You open your mouth to retort – probably with something stupid – but Natalie is quicker:

“Fuck off Van, stop bothering my girlfriend.”

Van gives up the provocation, raising her arms in surrender and Nat rolls her eyes as if she hadn't said anything important, but you're absolutely frozen, listening to your heart beating rapidly against your ears.

Natalie looks back when she notices you standing still and snorts in amusement at your reaction, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you with her.

“C’mon,” she says, “Let’s go, silly, I got something to do–”

“Move!” Jackie interrupts with an anxious tone, pushing you gently by the shoulder and bouncing on her heels, “It’s our turn.”

You catch a glimpse of Shauna standing shyly behind her like a shadow being dragged to the closet and Jeff sitting on the floor with the rest of his classmates with the most confused and defeated expression you've ever seen as Nat hurriedly guides you out.

When you're about to get into her car, Natalie surprises you, grabbing your waist with her cold hands and pressing you against the door, hungry eyes fixed on your form.

“I–” you stutter nervously, “I thought we were going home?”

Natalie nods.

“We are,” she agrees, “I just have to do you first.”

Well, maybe your night won't end as bad as you thought it would.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio #nat yellowjackets #denwrites

690 notes · View notes

w2soneshots · 4 months

Text

Dad mode -W2S

words: 0.9k+

warnings: none.

summary: Harry takes care of your baby while you’re away.

notes: hello lovelies!! Please send it more requests! My baby fever is officially back😚. I hope you enjoy this dad!bog fic🧸💓

Today I'm leaving my baby girl Millie for the first time. She just turned three months old. It's been amazing so far. Me and Harry love her with every ounce of our being. I was a little bit apprehensive about leaving her but it's only going to be for twenty four hours and I know I can trust Harry.

I packed an overnight bag then left the apartment at 7am. Unfortunately I didn't get to say goodbye to Millie since she was still asleep. I did say a quick bye to Harry though and he could tell I was nervous so he reassured me that everything would be fine and that he would send me regular updates. Which calmed me. Harry's looked after the baby for a few hours but never overnight.

Harry's pov:

I fell back asleep after y/n left. Then just half an hour later I woke to the sound of Millie crying. I quickly slid out of bed then grabbed her from the small bassinet that sat in the corner off our room. "Shh, I've got ya." I whispered as I picked her up and held her close. I changed her nappy then made her a bottle. "There we go." She sat on my lap and peacefully drank her milk.

After quickly eating my own breakfast I got dressed. Then I picked out an outfit for Millie. I put her in a light pink long sleeved onesie with some denim overalls over the top. It was actually an outfit y/n had put her in a few weeks ago so I knew she looked ok. I grabbed her nappy bag from her nursery (that she hasn't actually slept in yet) along with the buggy. Once I was ready to leave I sent y/n a text that read "she's had her bottle and she's in a good mood. I'm gonna take her on a walk. Love you x" she replied almost immediately. "I knew you'd be fine. Love you xx"

Once I got Millie into her buggy we left. I walked just over fifteen minutes until I was stopped by a young girl. "Excuse me, are you Wroetoshaw?" She asked. I nodded. "Could I please get a picture?" "Yea, sure." I took a quick pic then she turned her attention to Millie, who was sound asleep. "Thank you. Your babies really cute." And with that she happily walked away.

Ten minutes later I was outside the tall building where we film more sidemen and everything for side plus. I checked in at the front desk then pushed the buggy into lift. "Ey! Bog!" Ethan shouted once I was inside. "Hey." I replied. JJ rushed over. "You brought Millie!" He excitedly looked into the pram. "Yea y/n's on a work trip so I'm looking after her today. Thought I'd come and say hi." On the way up she'd woken up so I pulled her from the pram and gave her to JJ. He has really taken to being an uncle. I didn't know he liked kids that much but he turns into a marshmallow when he's around her and Olive.

Tobi also came to say hello. "I swear she's grown twice the size since I last saw her!" Tobi commented as he held her. "Yea! She's growing up to fast." JJ added. She always gets a massive fuss made over her when she's around the boys and she loves it. After a little while I left the boys to film and headed back home.

Once I got home I sat with Millie while I watched the most recent Chelsea match. We both had some lunch then I got a phone call from y/n. "Hey." I answered putting it on speaker. While she told me about her day I gently rocked Millie. "So how's it going? Did you take her to see the boys?" She asked, since I'd told her yesterday that I planned to visit them. "Yea, they made a fuss as usual." I replied. She giggled.

When 6pm rolled around it was time to put Millie to sleep. I slowly placed her into the cot but she immediately began screaming. My eyes widened. "Okey-dokey." I sighed as I picked her up again. y/n was usually the one to put the baby to sleep and I do the morning shift so I hadn't had much practice. "Shh shh." I rocked her. She continued to cry. "For fudge sake." We decided that we should try our best not to swear around the baby so we say, sugar, shoot and other random words instead.

I grabbed the tv control from y/n's side of the bed then clicked onto youtube. I selected 'night changes' by one direction. Since it seems to be one of the only things that calms her down. And it's ironic since that's actually the song that was playing when she popped out into the world. She slowly stopped crying until it was just a small sniffle. "There we go. No need to be so upset you donut." I whispered as she drifted off to sleep. I held her for a few more minutes until I placed her into the cot. Thankfully she stayed asleep. I grabbed the baby monitor from the side then crept back into the lounge.

The next morning I woke to the smell of bacon. I jumped out of bed to follow the smell. y/n stood in the kitchen, Millie on her hip, hair in a messy bun and a slight bounce in her step as she hummed quietly. "She looks beautiful." I thought as I lent against the door frame. "Morning." I smiled as I walked towards her. She jumped slightly. "Sugar! You scared me." I laughed. Then pecked her on the lips.

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 7 months

Text

Alright, bet...

John Egan X Female! Reader

Summary: John Egan wants a date, he's ready to do anything to have it...

Warning: Flirting/ allusion to sex/ historical inaccuracies/ alcohol/ use of Y/n/ Swearing.

The bar was crowded, and it was full of soldiers and women hoping to get the attention of the soldiers. The music was loud, and the smell of alcohol was filling the nostrils of everyone stepping inside the bar. Y/n and her friends were on a girl's night out. She was a dancer, she danced in bars, it was her way of making money. No husband and parents were not happy with her career choice. She was alone. When they stepped inside the bar, they were amazed at how many men in uniform were inside. "Is it a new military base?" One of her friends, Ollie, asked. "I don't know, but I have a thing for men in uniform," Jocelyn said. Making the girls laugh.

John Egan was drinking. He was going on the base tomorrow and wanted to enjoy his last night before duty calls. When he saw her enter, he thought she was beautiful. Her presence in the room was hot. She stepped near the bar, ordering drinks. They made brief eye contact before she was dragged by her friends at a table. He had a new objective tonight: Get a date with her. He was watching her, laughing, talking and smiling to something her friend said. He clearly needed to talk to her.

When the girls saw a man approaching the table, they squealed, How was this handsome man going to talk to? "Good evening, ladies. Can I buy you something to drink?" Egan said, leaning against the table. Y/n smirked. It was the same man that she'd made eye contact with earlier. They looked at each other, making it clear who the chosen one. "We're good, but our friend here wants another one," Ollie said, pointing to Y/n. She mentally hit her, way to make it obvious, she thought. Y/n got up her seat and walked with Bucky to the bar. "I'm John, but call me Bucky," he said to her. "Y/n," She said, looking at him. "What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?" He flirted. "Drinking, just like you. I'm not working tonight, I thought I could go out and have some fun. What are you doing here, Bucky?" His name rolled on her tongue. He grins as he orders two shots of whisky. "Same thing as you, what do you do for work?" He asked, handing her the shot. "I'm a showgirl, I sing and dance to entertain people," She boldly said. She grew more confident about her job. At first, she'd lie about it. But now, she didn't care about the other people's opinions. They both drank the liquid and smiled. "You sing?" He asked. She nodded, looking at him.

"What would it take to get a date with you?" Bucky asked. They didn’t know how much they both drank or how many time had passed, but they both went to sit at a table. Just the both of them, her friends had left. She giggled when he mentioned a date. "Are you asking me out, Bucky?" She said, smiling. "Yup," he admitted. An idea came to her mind. The band was playing music, and it needed vocals. "If you go on that stage and sing a song, I will go out with you." She dared him. A spark in his eyes lit up. If there was one thing that John Egan loved, it was signing. Plus, the alcohol in his system made him more confident. "Alright, bet," he said as he got up his seat. He started to dance a little. The maestro looked confused, but when Bucky took the microphone and started to sing, he understood.

Y/n couldn't believe that he was actually doing it. She laughed as she heard his voice. It was joyful, raspy, and filled with passion. He knew he wasn’t a good singer, but he was getting that date. During the song, he looked directly in Y/n's direction. He had a huge smile on his face, and so did she. He was really committed to the song, and when there weren't any lyrics to sing, he was dancing again. At the end of the song, he took the mic again. "Thank you, I just earned a date!" He cheered. Y/n put her hands in her face. She was going on a date with him...

"I still can't believe you actually sang." She laughed. They both laughed. They left the bar after Bucky's performances. "Yeah, well, I wanted a date," he said, smiling. She looked down, blushing. "Now, what do I have to do to get a kiss?" She said. Bucky was speechless. She just flirted with him. "Nothing, darling, you can kiss me right now," he said. She looked at him, pulled him by his tie, and their lips crashed together. Bucky put a hand on her cheek. When they pulled away, his lips were red and a little bit swollen. "Holy fuck, can I kiss you again?" He asked. She nodded and their lips crashed again. Who would've thought that him singing would've get him that far. He was so gonna brag about it to Buck!

#john egan x female reader #john egan x reader #major john egan #bucky egan #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #callum turner #master of the air imagine #master of the air

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prettymase · 3 months

Text

FINDING OUR WAY BACK TO EACH OTHER

CHAPTER ONE

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

"Rosè, slow down." you shouted from behind her little self. Your one year and six month daughter ran as fast as she could, as fast as her little chubby legs allowed her. As soon as Rosè heard the sound of the front door open, she was out of your sight. You sighed, wiping your hands with a hand towel, before walking to the front of the house.

The scene you were encountered with made your heart grow a couple sizes inside your chest. Her dad's suitcase plopped down with a big sound, forgotten as his daughter made her way to him, holding his little girl close to him as he repeatedly kissed her head.

"Daddy missed you so much, Rosè." Mason whispered. As well as for Rose who tried to reply to Mason, although she could only get out 'daddy' or 'dada.'

After a moment, without letting Rosè go, Mason looked up finding your sight, his smile only managed to get wider when he saw you, "Hi Y/N."

"Hi..." You corresponded to his greeting. You maintained eye contact, making your stomach burn under his gaze. You hadn't realised how much you had missed him up until now. "How have you been?" Your intention to sound calm and collected went in the bin.

"Now that I'm home," Mason said directly to you. "I'm fucking amazing."

You rolled your eyes at him, "Mase, the swearing!!!" You pointed at Rose while scolding him.

"Sorry, you don't repeat that until you're thirty," he stopped to kiss Rosè's brown curly locks. "Or mumma will be pissed with daddy."

You turned around on your feet and made your way to the kitchen. "You're impossible." You muttered.

"I heard that!!" Mason chuckled.

You listened to Rosè and her daddy talk for a bit. It was mostly Mason with little sound interventions from their daughter. He was so gentle with Rosè that you couldn't fight the warmth spreading through your limbs. Instead, you tried, key word being tried, to distract yourself by starting the kettle.

"Were you a good girl for your mumma?

"I missed you so much. Did you miss daddy?

"C'mon let's go to mumma"

Sooner than later, Mason appeared into the kitchen with Rosè. He made his little girl while dancing around the kitchen for a minute. He was always so sweet and soft around Rosè. In these moments, you were very happy with the universe because your little girl had the most amazing daddy, and you wouldn't change that even though the circumstances were a little weird, but you promised yourself that if your daughter was happy then so were you.

You let yourself admire them. The little Mount had missed Mason more than her little body was prepared to bare. Multiple times Rosè would search for Mason around the house when she'd find herself missing him which was about 100x a day which drove you insane because you couldn't really do anything about it but you made long distance work for the three weeks Mason was away.

Mason obviously had to travel for work, the prospect of not moving from home was quite literally impossible.

Multiple facetime sessions, hundreds of photos and obviously seeing her dad on the tv. After a complicated few weeks, this was Rosè's moment - mostly - to be happy and to celebrate her favourite human coming home. You, who witnessed everything along her side was bursting for your little ray of sunshine.

The kettle had reached the boiling point, bringing you out of your daydreaming. You made two cups of tea and placed them on to the kitchen island. Mason tried leaving Rosè on the chair to his right, but she wasn't having it. Finally, when Rosè sat on her father's lap you laughed under your breath knowing that she's going to be clinging onto Mason all day. Looking at the two from the opposite side of the island you were just admiring how Rosè looks exactly like her father, even at a young age, stubborn when she set herself a certain goal.

Looking at Mason, you noticed how exhausted he looked. "Thanks for this." He said after taking a sip of his tea.

"You look tired, Mase." You pitied him sometimes. The pressure of the public opinion and him being his own critic.

"I'm exhausted but i missed you both." He said moving his leg up and down, making Rosè jump up and down giggling. "But i can't wait to get into bed."

"I made your bed. I didn't mean to intrude, I just thought it would nice -" You tried to explain.

"The perfect housewife!" Mason interrupted as he flashed you a smirk which you knew that he was just kidding.

"Omg shut up." You failed miserably to hide your rosy cheeks behind your cup of tea. " Don't say that. You already know the amount of -" you stopped yourself from swearing in front of Rosè. "things people talk about us." You exposed one of your current worries.

"Yeah, well I don't care. You shouldn't either. Let them talk, only we know what's going on and quite frankly no one else needs to know too. It's none of their business."

You knew you shouldn't but at the same time, you wasn't famous at all and your life was pretty normal for anyone to care about. Still, being the mother of Mason Mount's daughter was enough to drag some unsolicited attention. "Have you read the articles they put out?"

Mason threw his head down, leaving kisses on Rose's head. He had read them, he had tabs on his phone with notifications. Mason wished to have the power to shut them up once and for all. Mason didn't want that life for Rosè or you in that case. He wanted to protect their privacy. "Yes i have. I'm going to kepp my opinions close to my heart for now." Mason said with a tone of anger in his voice. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Mase."

He didn't respond. Mason felt like he was the only one to blame, for every violation of their intimacy. These reporters were always nasty, however the worst started when you got pregnant, when they decided to co-parent, adding to the mix living in the same house. Reporters made the multiple decisions they took as parents of Rosè one of their disgusting website's top stories.

You and Mason were good friends before anything else happened between the two of you, so that option was the most reasonable at the time. The press and public thought otherwise.

You tried, really tried, to ignore them. Falling in the process. mason tried to persuade you multiple times about ignoring whatever they were saying, the comments of random people on twitter, even when he wasn't any better at it.

Truth was, not only you would read about what they had to say about Rosè or you. Sometimes at night, when Mason was away, you fell onto those sites. Articles included Mason's relationship with you. You deep down knew you and Mason wouldn't be anything more but it was hard to think that one day he would be with a woman that's not her. Not that it was your business, you weren't a couple before and definitely not now. You tried to repeat it as a mantra, trying to convince yourself that even though you are co-parenting it doesn't mean anything else.

Deep down, you knew it would eventually happen. He was at the top of his career, being fitter than ever and showing a new mature side as a father. Soon a girl would make him fall hard, and unfortunately it wasn't going to be you. You were his friend and the mother of his daughter only. You knew Mason loved you like a friend. Only like that. Not Mason or anyone knew the deep feelings you were trying really hard to suppress.

You felt sorry for yourself when thinking about those fantasies of him with a well put together woman. Someone who was the opposite of you. Someone who wears make up everyday, has a body you’d give an arm to have, and above all, someone smarter than you. You happened to be far from that now. Having a toddler was hard work, alongside with your 9-5 office job. Most of the time, at home, you wore comfy clothes, stained with something that Rosè had put on you or something, your hair up in a messy bun and zero make up. You couldn’t remember the last time you worked out. It was just all over the place in your head, and on top of that trying to be the best mum in the world for Rosè.

“Y/N?” Mason said, startling you out of your thoughts. You looked at him with your eyes blank. “We lost you for a second.”

“Sorry.”

“Everything okay?” He asked, visibly concerned about you. Meanwhile, Rosè tried to participate in the conversation with Mason. You softly grinned at her.

“Yeah, just tired.” You lied. Before Mason could say anything else - something that would successfully break down your walls by making you talk about your worries. “How about you go play with daddy while I clean the kitchen, hm?” You asked Rosè. You felt like you needed to keep some distance from Mason, even though he had just arrived home.

Mason laughed at Rosè’s excitement while standing up and off they went into the living room to play with his daughters learning blocks she loved doing.

After leaving the mugs on the sink, hearing your daughter giggle with her dad made your heart melt, it was one of your favourite sounds. You took a deep breath, you didn’t know how you would keep your shit together, but for the good of your daughter you were willing to do everything.

Even keeping your feelings at bay.

if you enjoyed please leave feedback it would mean the world 🩵

🏷️ @lunamelona

#mason mount x reader #mason mount fic #mason mount oneshots #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount #mason mount angst #mason mount fics #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x oc #mason mount x you #mason mount drabble #mason mount oneshot #Mason mount fanfics

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kira-fluff · 2 years

Text

"can you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

pairing: osamu miya x reader (haikyuu!!) a/n: unfortunately based off a true story. tw: anxiety, bullying, swearing, threatening

you sidled yourself in a seat next to your good friend. "heeeeey 'samu~" you grinned.

"what do ya want?"

"can i not just want to greet my amazing friend?"

he gave you a skeptical look and you blanched. "well, uhm..."

"if it's my food ya want, yer not gettin' it." he grumbled, selfishly sucking more milk through his straw.

"can you be my boyfriend?"

comically, osamu proceeded to spew the milk in his mouth out in shock, nearly missing atsumu who sat across the table, much to both of their dismay.

wiping some milk from his mouth, osamu managed to choke out a strained, "yer for real..?"

you blinked, then flushed, "i-i-i meant for pretend, i mean it!" you bit your lip, "there's this girl who recently decided she doesn't like me. i'm not sure why... but she started telling rumors and lies about me to other people.....including her boyfriend. and...and.. he's super intimidating..." you looked away, "'samu, he came up to me the other day and said that if i mess with 'his girl'... that i'd 'regret it'....'samu, i'm scared. it's silly, right? but.. but it would just make me feel safer.."

a warm hand fell on your shoulder, "'s not silly. 's a threat. do ya want me 'ta take care of him?"

you shook your head quickly, "n-no! i just... i need you to just.. pretend. i know it's weird, but it would mean a lot to me, okay?"

osamu eyed you up and down before saying, "why me?"

your eyes widened and you once again couldn't look him in the eye. after all, it'd be pretty lame to confess after he so blatantly shot you down a few minutes ago. "well, you're my best 'guy' friend. and you're pretty much built like a greek god--"

he smirked, amused, "ya think 'm built like a greek god?"

"i'm still here, guys, keep the flirting to a minimum," piped in atsumu.

you both turned in unison to him, identically saying, "shut up, 'tsumu."

you cleared your throat, "anyway, you're bulky and strong and could definitely beat him in a fight."

"obviously."

"so will you help me... please?"

osamu's resolve seemed to waver the longer your stared into his eyes with a begging expression. to be honest, the moment he'd heard that some guy was harassing you, he was beyond pissed off and was ready to agree to just about anything you asked of him. but, once he found out that you had also wanted to be his (albeit, pretend) girlfriend? it seemed like the perfect opportunity to show you what it could really be like.. and how much he loved you.

"i guess." he said, his cheeks slightly flushing.

it shocked you that he had agreed. after all, this is osamu you're talking about. he scarcely looked your way, much less harbored any idea of you being his girlfriend. and yet here you were, walking down the halls, holding hands. he avoided your gaze, though you knew him well enough to know he wasn't annoyed with you, just embarrassed, which you had expected.

what you hadn't expected, however, was that girl. you call her that girl because you honestly didn't know her name. only that she despised you. you frowned, recalling the numerous times your friends walked up to you telling you she'd said you were "annoying" or that she was surprised you were ever invited to anything what with the way you make everything about yourself. you knew your friends meant well but a part of you wished they'd never told you. you weren't exaggerating when you say that you are a "drama-free" person. you seemed to always be the last one to hear the gossip going around and certainly the last to spread anything. it upset you that despite your best efforts someone had decided that you were irritating enough to make comments to others about. you tried to not take things personally, you really did, but when you'd heard her talking about you while you were in a bathroom stall, it took all of your strength to hold back your tears. unfortunately, because you're drama-free, you also aren't the most confrontational person. rather, you preferred confrontation when the other people didn't seem to take anything anyone ever did personally. you thought back on yourself, searching for anything you could've done wrong to bother her but after much consolation from friends, turned up nothing. still, a part of you felt like it was all your fault. maybe you could've tried harder to be extra kind to her?

you were broken out of your thoughts by a squeeze to your hand. making eye contact with that girl, she rolled her eyes and turned, walking the other way. osamu looked down at you in concern as your brows furrowed in a hurt expression.

"do ya even know her?"

"..no."

"then why should you care what she says or thinks?"

"because, 'samu, it's not that easy. i can tell myself it doesn't matter and that i shouldn't care but that doesn't make it so. it doesn't rewire my brain to stop caring about what other people think. no matter how hard i try."

he was silent for a moment, contemplating something.

then, he lightly caressed your cheek with the palm of his hand, smiling softly. "i guess i can't change yer mind... but i can remind you that the people who are actually worth yer time won't make some round-about shitty way of telling ya they have a problem with ya."

you smiled warily, though he had to admit he said exactly what you needed to hear. besides that, you noticed you'd definitely chosen the right guy - his acting skills as your boyfriend were superior. your eyes wandered around to the gaze of your fellow peers as some cooed not-so-subtly at osamu's public display of affection.

your gaze returned to his as he eyed you up and down. "ya sure yer alright?"

"positive."

"ya know it's okay not to be fine all the time."

you laughed lightly, "thanks, 'samu. but really, I think I'm okay. i just can't think about it or it'll make me all upset again."

"wanna come over tonight? thankfully i'm makin' dinner and not atsumu," he grinned.

you conservation switched to various other topics as you both walked down the hall before he had to go to volleyball practice.

"didn't i tell you what happens to bitches who mess with my girl?" a gruff voice called behind you.

you froze, regretting the fact that you neglected to bring your phone with you during your lunch break and were subsequently now completely alone with some gorilla-faced man who spoke gravelly like he wasn't in high school at all. slowly turning, you cowered, "i-i don't think i did anything wrong.."

immediately his fist slammed against your locker. "obviously you fuckin' did if my girl is tellin' me you've been a fuckin' problem!"

"i-i-i don't even know who she is," you defended, moving your hands to shield your face in fear.

"bullshit."

you screamed as you felt a hand tightly grab your wrist and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the impact of a fist. after a few moments, you opened them, shocked to see osamu standing in front of you, shielding you from the gruff boyfriend.

"get a load of this guy," osamu smiled sardonically, "getting involved in his girlfriend's drama because she can't handle it herself? you must be her hero."

the man grit his teeth hard, winding up for a punch that osamu immediately countered, without breaking a sweat.

"you take that back you fuckin' piece of shit!" he growled, aiming for a blow to osamu's kneecap. "how the fuck does a prick like you even know this stupid bitch anyway." he continued, seemingly adding fuel to the fire.

osamu's eyes widened with a fiery rage, "you don't get to talk like that about my girlfriend." within seconds, the man was pummeled to the ground and osamu's fist connected against his face repeatedly until you pulled osamu away.

as if the situation wasn't already at its worst, that girl came running down the hall. "you BITCH! how dare you do this to my man! i fucking knew you were a rat." she paused for a moment before letting out a shriek of laughter, "oh? what's this? there's no fucking way you managed to get a boyfriend. what, you finally found someone willing to fuck you for a price?" she giggled, "osamu miya, was it? tell me, how much is she paying you to play pretend?"

osamu ground down on his teeth dangerously as he eyed the girl with contempt. "I'll have you know that i asked her out and was lucky enough for her to say yes."

she forced out another laugh, "then you're both pathetic! a match made in heaven."

you willed the tears to stay in your eyes, not wanting to give the girl the power of knowing that she hurt you, that she made you cry. you whispered something even you could barely hear.

"what was that? finally apologizing to me?"

you narrowed your eyes, looking her directly in her own as you raised your voice, "I said 'LEAVE US ALONE!'" you screamed with all you had in you.

she smirked, seemingly only a little fazed by your outburst. "fine, I'll leave. as soon as you prove you guys are actually dating. 'cause, like, there's no way, right babe?!" her boyfriend grunted out a laugh from his position on the floor.

this is the end. you thought. i'm gonna have to confess that i made this whole thing up and then i'm never going to hear the end of it. you sent a worried look to osamu who was already inches from your face. you tried to back away in shock, but his hand found purchase on the small of your back. he pulled you in tightly before taking your chin in between his index and thumb. his eyes conveyed a message you couldn't quite decifer.

yet, the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. it wasn't at all the sort of chaste or reluctant kiss you were expecting, but one filled with hunger and desire. you returned in equal force, intertwining your fingers in his gray-brown locks. you could've sworn you'd heard a guttural groan as you shifted your leg in between his. when you at last separated, the girl and her boyfriend were gone. it was just the two of you.

osamu looked down at your lips once more before meeting your eyes. "hey."

you laughed breathily, "hey."

"do ya wanna date fer real?"

you answered with another eager kiss.

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greenorangevioletgrass · 4 months

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Okay, so Tuesday at the park, yeah? Amazing! Imagine Art, loving father that he is, absolutely melts when f!reader helps him with Lily's public bathroom tantrum. She'd like to use the women's toilet like the "woman" she is, but Art's anxious about how many things could go wrong at this public bathroom & he can't just go in. I could also imagine the poor reader being asked to explain what the tampon machine is to her 😂. I feel like that would endear her to Art, like seeing his daughter being so respected by someone who isn't just trying to suck up to The Art. Just one person choosing kindness...and maybe the little girl's dad being so cute isn't hurting the situation.

(As someone who was once a little girl with a single dad, I still remember my dad's anxiety over public bathrooms)

ohmygod, thank you so much!!! that means so much to me 😭

there is an alternate universe of tuesday in the park where they don't part ways right away, because Lily is like "daddy, i need to pee" bc it's chilly and she's been playing with water lol. Art pauses for a moment, and Lily knowingly reminds him, "in the women's toilet, please." you shrug and lightly offer, "I can take you."

Art opens his mouth, but Lily already grabs your hand and rushes off to the bathroom with a quick thank-you. You can only flash him a smile, half apologetic and half-reassuring.

Two minutes never felt so long for Art Donaldson, and he perks up, standing about ten inches from the door when you and Lily come out. "All good?" Lily smiles in relief, and his shoulders relax a little. He opens his mouth for another apology, but you quickly cut him off. "It's really no trouble. If anything, I'm sorry for--"

He frowns, wondering what you could possibly apologize for, until he realizes the quiet rustle of something in Lily's hand. She unassumingly waves it in her hand, "They have these too, like in Mommy's bathroom. What is this?" she fiddles with the tampon string in her little hands, and you grimace,

"...That. Sorry for that."

(and he swears, that's the moment he falls in love with you.)

#EEEEEEEEE this makes my heart clench #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fluff #divorced!art #ask ava #ava writes

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wonryllis · 4 months

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𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒

𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎?

ׅ ꢾ꣒ find the MASTERLIST here.

PREVIEW. you always get what you want, spoiled with the love of everyone around you. and it's all innocent love, at least that's what everyone thinks. it comes with much surprise therefore, when heeseung makes a move on you. thirteen long years of being in the brother zone having made him utterly clueless that if he’s going to date you he has to pass through your actual brothers first. and he knows how scary they can be. especially since they are known to have a sister complex and he’s been the third scary one with them, numerous times before.

𝐈 check out the PROFILES.

PLS READ THE CONTENT BELOW ALL THE CHARACTER INFO IS LISTED IN JUST THIS ONE POST !

𝐈𝐈 tune in to the CHARACTER INTERVIEWS ( given by the characters themselves ! )

CHOI YN 20 ( fashion ), well what do i say? hello everyone i'm choi yn! im sure everyone knows me already ^^ .. what else do i say? hmm i love my life a lot! i love my brothers and heeseung and wonie so much, they are the closest people in my life! oh shit sorry riki too hehe oops. college has been fun since im doing exactly what i wanted and it's fun to hangout with won all the time. seungie brings me snacks all the time and binnie lets me eat cakes everyday even though junnie has scolded them not to cause i easily get dental problems and then he has to convince be to go to the dentist, eww.

LEE HEESEUNG 23 ( film ), if you ever stop hearing from me, please know that my day has come and i have chosen to be exposed. as much as jun and soobs love me, and as much as they love tiny(my yn, she's just real cute) if i ever dare speak of that kind of love with tiny in the same sentence it's my last moment on earth. jay and taehyun help a lot and i'd give everything to thank them for it but man they still haven't been able to actually help me get with yn?

CHOI SOOBIN 24 ( law school ), yes my sister is my everything, each one of her wishes no matter how stupid and idiotic they are, must be fulfilled. i think i was like ten when ynie said being a lawyer would be so cool, and it's been my life's motto now. law school kicks my ass yeah but whenever i think of how happy she'd be to see me as a badass lawyer it feels like nothing. i could easily help her win the divorce that's a plus point, i think i should start looking into divorce attorney things.

CHOI YEONJUN 25 ( model ), i swear scaring away my baby sister's admirers is one of my full time jobs besides runaway modelling but alas she is my sister of course she's a beauty. i know she will date and marry a motherfucking guy one day, and i won't be able to stop it but i hope that day takes the longest time to come. she was one of the first ones to say how good my dressing style was, if it wasnt for her i would not be one of the rising faces in the fashion scene today.

PARK JAY 22 ( music production ), being lee heeseung's childhood friend has been my life's greatest downfall. and being his emergency contact number one is probably the biggest mistake of my life. it's so so so infuriating to see him do nothing and panic over the fact that some might sweep her off her feet right before his eyes like fucker you gotta sweep her off her feet rather than worrying over how someone else might sweep her off her feet. taehyun probably understands me.

SIM JAKE 22 ( physics ), it's fun, so so fun i can not express it verbally man, 'm having a blast! there's so many new things to learn i am so happy with my major and my astronomy club thing is going so well too, it's been amazing so far. the only thing i dont like is my mates ignoring me, like i tell them about all these quantum mechanics things and how it's works like it's legit the coolest thing ever and they don't wanna listen me and then come to me for help with assignments like dude? there's no give and take here and it's not high school anymore? but i do it cause im nice :)

PARK SUNGHOON 22 ( communications ), first of all i gotta thank my man taehyun for letting me copy off of him to pass my semesters so far. as a full time commercial and photoshoot model, college is just a side quest for me at this point, just need an arm candy degree to show that i am infact educated contrary to what people think. oh and i'd like to tell this, don't tell anyone, i actually know all the drama going on and it's so funny but i gotta stay low if i wanna be safe. sometimes i do think of stirring things up but yeonjun man he scares me, i better be on his good side.

KIM SUNOO 21 ( journalism ), for real god am i the only one working my ass off here cause why the hell all these dicks be fucking up their lives and copying off people to survive like? look at me, every little gossip on campus and you know who to go to get the full info! exactly how it should be for a journalism major. i swear i am doing all the shit ass work here. i admit i slip sometimes especially with heeseung's secret in front of god forbidden yn but 'm just a human, and humans make mistakes yk? and please tell kai to fuck off please, thank you.

YANG JUNGWON 20 ( fashion ), it's a different feeling when three guys trust you with their precious sister. and it's a different feeling when that precious real spoiled girl treats you like the best buddy she could ever have. but it's not so fortunate when you gotta dash to protect anytime the brothers ping you, it's like a national secret agency part time job and it's the hardest thing when the target is someone like yn. i treasure her a lot, as a friend! yes, yet the times when her brothers get jealous of me are some of the most nerve wrecking times.

NISHIMURA RIKI 20 ( photography ), are we surprised here? no wtf have y'all not seen the pics i post on my twt like i got talent you have to accept it. especially a lot of talent in gaming and luck, my luck be through the roofff. just started lol a year ago and my YouTube Chanel six months ago and im already almost a diamond and about to hit a million subscribers.. talk about god's favorite! ha that's me. but the thing is more than that i wanna be yn's favorite like i know she says won and i are same but i know that kitty is closer. for now i like being glued to yn, but after figuring out things so easily it's hard to keep quiet.

CHOI BEOMGYU 23 ( film ), with the amount of hate train behind me it's a miracle i am still breathing and in one piece. praying all this ends quickly and my life is returned back to me or i'll go crazy it has been like what two? three? years already! i need my freedom. i can count and name with my fingers the people who hate me. actually no it's everyone. anyways, i share all classes with heeseung and lord is it the scariest part of my life. at least yeonjun and soobin would need time to hunt me down but lee heeseung? he's right behind me two rows, staring down my every movement. look it's not my fault okay?

KANG TAEHYUN 22 ( communications ), it wasn't consensual. it is very important to clear this up. i did not give my papers to park sunghoon by choice. he had to pay me hefty for that so there's no thank you man, dude is pretending. and i am fucking sick of covering for heeseung all the time like dude grow balls, real balls dig up some manly guts and fucking do it before i lose patience and fuck shit up. every moment of listening to him lamenting over his feelings is the most frustrating shit ever. make him hear this one for god's fucking sake.

HUENING KAI 22 ( journalism ), no matter how much everyone denies it, i know they won't survive a day without me like? i provide sunoo with all the gossip of our side? how else do you think heeseung sneaks around yeonbin with his feelings? god it's me i do the passing the parcel of info. i mean taehyun is also involved with them but then i am more useful than that reality check of a guy, i mean who needs reality when you can live in a fantasy! hehe i just outdid everyone with that! or not anyway moving on yn's cr— SUNOO: shut the fuck up bitch!

𝐈𝐈𝐈 learn about THE GROUPCHATS.

01. HEEYN TRUTHERS heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, taehyun and sunoo: the group that has been supporting heeseung in pursuing his feelings since he first revealed it to them. for whenever he fucks up and they have to discuss how to save his ass. normal chats happen too.

02. BOSS BABIES yn, jungwon, riki: the trio that has been friends since middle school, and sticks together. yn spends most of her time with them, that is in college. often goes out to hangout and these two are yn's only actual friends!

03. SHOOTERZ 4 YN yeonjun, soobin, heeseung and jungwon: they use this chat to text each other whenever someone upsets yn or she's going somewhere alone and they need jungwon to secretly tag along to give them updates later.

04. PRINCESS & HER KNIGHTZ yn, yeonjun, soobin and heeseung: the main stars— spoiled baby and her overprotective boys. usually text her when it has to do something with the four of them, like when yn goes out or she needs someone to pick her up or accompany her or when they have dinner at each other's place and someone's missing and likewise.

05. PSYCHOS W/ SICKOS yeonjun, soobin, beomgyu, taehyun, huening kai and heeseung: well this is heeseung's other friend group with the yn brothers' friends that become his own after a while. this is yeonbin dominated friend group chat and beomgyu is main character lmao

START THE STORY — prologue 𓈒 ‎𓈒 ‎𓈒

TAGLIST . ( OPEN ) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @aaa-sia @snoopypupp @criminalyun @oddracha @satan-223 @diorsyun @hooniehon @fakeuwus @caramelcandescence @intromortal @kookify @yutasberryy @sumzysworld @nikiswifiee @shuichi-sama @primroselover @rayofsunshineeee @aishigrey @yjwluvs @soraokkotsu @nyfwyeonjun @srhnyx @trashx678 @wondipity @winuvs @hoondiors @niniissus @firstclassjaylee @biancaness send an ask to be added! (if your comment goes unnoticed it is not my responsibility)

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #HOPE Y'ALL FIND THIS FUNNY ENOUGH ㅠㅠ #enhypen smau #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung imagines #heeseung imagines #enhypen social media au #enhypen socmed au #enhypen social au #heeseung smau #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts

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eternalsa2z · 6 months

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Savant

It just didn't make any sense. My friend Kiki was SUCH an airhead. She could barely choose which panties she wanted to wear in the morning; often she was so indecisive she never put any on. Her focus was short and easily distracted by anything shiny, which was tough because she loved wearing jewelry. I swear she'd forget her hair if they weren't long blonde extensions attached to her silly little head.

All that was adorable...but also reeeeeeally annoying. Because besides looking amazing all the time, Kiki was incredible at one thing: fantasy football. I considered myself a football fanatic but every year her picks put my team to shame. Of course I was happy for her and proud. But there's only so many times you can hear, "OMG I won?!?!? No waaaaayyyyy! Yay!" from a giggly bimbo before you start to question the meaning of life and why you bother trying so hard at fantasy games.

I've accepted that she's a savant. But I tried to learn from her...and got even more frustrated. She doesn't watch the games! I tried once with her and she spent the entire time twirling her hair or getting distracted from the screen by looking down at her huge boobies. She also doesn't even really know the teams. There's 'the orange kitty kats!' and 'the Tenny-see Titties!' and the 'the 69ers!'. I'd swear she was messing with me if she didn't look and act so honestly sweet and innocent all the time.

There's also no rhyme or reason to her thinking. For a draft strategy Kiki might pick a player 'cuz he's dating a totes cute celebrity!'. Sometimes she likes the team's uniform colors or mascot. Or even just because his name makes her giggle. It's all vibes with her and I can do nothing I can do but smile and shake my head.

Eventually we struck a deal. She would teach me which players to pick and how to think. I'd use that in other leagues to make money. Soon I was rolling in prize money and spending it all on her turning her into a bigger bimbo. Because she earned it and somehow it's making her better at these games. Besides, if I've learned anything from these lessons, a bimbo like Kiki is the best fantasy trophy anyone could ever hope to celebrate with.

#bimboification #f2f transformation #sweet

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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Pizza Box Puzzle Pieces - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake is a responsible drinker, he swears. But when you're stuck being responsible for the night, a very drunk Jake gives you all but one piece to a puzzle you don't complete until the morning after.

Contents/Warnings: drinking, fem!reader, typical hangman behavior, enemies to lovers (really more like rivals to lovers)

Requested: A thousand times congratulations on such an amazing milestone! Could I please have an espresso w. enemies to lovers with Jake ‘hangman’ Seresin? ☀️ - @saintlike78 THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS SINCE SEPTEMBER I AM SO SORRY MY LOVE i hope you still like hangman <3

WC: 5.3K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Jake Seresin is a responsible drinker. He keeps a rideshare app on his phone, he tells Bob (the permanent sober babysitter) that he needs to be cut off after 10:00 PM, and he gives Penny his keys before he even orders his first drink.

Tonight, though, she'd left them unattended. There they were, shiny and appealing, sitting on the bar. She had left to get a clean dishrag, he could just take them! Driving sounded fun now, less of a chore and more of an adventure now that his brain was blurry.

You watch Jake's eyes widen as he catches sight of his keys, and your hand darts out to snag them before he can. His reflexes are slow, and when he reaches for them, his hand hits empty counter space.

He looks around, bewildered. They'd just disappeared.

"Here, Bagman." You jingle the keys in your hand, and he catches the sound from the few seats down where he's sitting. His eyes drift aimlessly over to your hand, and brighten at the sight of his keys.

"Thanks," He drawls, his southern lilt far more noticeable now that he's running on autopilot, "I'm gonna-" he hiccups hard, his chest bouncing, "Head home."

He stands, wobbly on his feet, and treads forwards to take the keys from you. You raise them above your head, but he doesn't follow, instead slumping forwards as his hand grasps at thin air. His head hits your chest and Coyote catches your eye from over Jake's shoulder. You widen your eyes, flaunting the keys you'd managed to snatch from him.

All the pilot does is laugh, and then his attention is shifted back to the dartboard. Typical.

"Jesus," You grunt, pushing at Jake's chest. He straightens up again, eyes blinking open from where they'd been shut, "What did you drink?"

"I don't remember," He admits, and that's all the explanation you need.

"Come on," You reach for his pocket, his phone sticking out, "Let's call you a ride."

"Nooo," He darts away, almost too late to evade you, "That's my phone."

"Yes Hangman," You smirk, "I think you're smarter drunk than you are sober."

"But that's-" He fumbles with his cell, "You can't touch my phone."

"I want to get you home," You urge, once more reaching for the device in his hands, "Don't you want to go to sleep?"

"You can't have it," He insists, yanking the waistband of his khakis off of his stomach and slipping his phone dangerously close to his crotch, "Unless you-" Another hiccup that flutters his eyelashes, "-wanna take it."

The smirk he shoots you after shoving his phone down his pants contains lethal cockiness. You're surprised the sheer size of his ego doesn't knock you down, you're not sure how you're standing so close to him without running into it.

You glance down at his phone. It's protruding just enough from his waistband for it to be quick and easy to grab. But your hand has never been that close to Jake's dick before, and you're hoping it never will be.

"Fuck," You deflate, shoulders slumping as your fingers curl tighter around his keys, "Come on, I'm driving you."

"Take my car," He insists, as if he's forgotten you have his keys, "It's.. It's really cool."

"Can't wait," You gripe, slinging his arm around your shoulders, "Come on, one foot in front of the other, Seresin."

The cold night air hits you like a tsunami. It floods your thin shirt and seeps into your bones, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. You've never known it to get this cold here, and the skin-to-skin that Jake's shoulder provides against your own is your only warmth.

You prop him up against his car while you fumble with the keys, but before you can click the 'unlock' button, he's snatching them from you.

"I wanna- I wanna do it," He insists, gripping the pointed end and bumping it up against the panel on the outside of the keyhole, "It's my car, I wanna.. do it."

You give him a minute to figure out the key. After it passes you yank it from where he's been pathetically butting it up against the hole, still confused about how to slot it inside.

"Gimme," You grumble, sliding the key into the hole with barely a second's delay, "You're too drunk for this."

"I'm not drunk." He scoffs. He says it with so much sincerity, with so much raw belief, that you're surprised that it doesn't come into existence. You're surprised the alcohol doesn't drain from his system completely, and leave him his usual coordinated, upright self. But he's still leaning against his car, half-coherent and dizzy.

"Right." You chuckle, throwing open the driver's side door and unlocking the rest of the car, "Get in, Hangman."

He starts for your seat and you shove him away, "No, not the driver's seat," You groan, "Other side."

He starts for the backseat.

"For fuck's sake," You exclaim, grabbing his bicep to lead him around the car, "The passenger's side!"

You get him wrestled into his seat with no further drunken antics, and you relish the fact that you've gotten him calm for the night. He's anything but when you finally glance up at his face, though, great big tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"You're mean." He whispers, his voice shaky. You've never seen such a pitiful sight, his big green eyes brimming with anguish that seeps down his cheeks in rivers of tears. "You grabbed me, and-" He waves his bicep at you, "And you manhandled me," He gushes, angst-stricken, "You're mean!"

"I'm sorry," You sigh, playing into his inebriated sorrow, "Are you okay, Hangman?"

He doesn't note the sarcasm in your voice, sniffling pathetically, "No. It hurts."

You offer a quick pat to the affected area, but he shakes his head.

"Kiss." He offers in explanation, 'Kiss it better."

"I am not going to-" You begin, rage evident in your voice. Then you glance back up at his eyes, filled with new tears.

It's a staring contest for a moment, but you break first. You hunch, bracing yourself for the most humiliating thing you've ever had to do when you pucker your lips and press them into his bicep.

It's firm. Fuck, you wish it wasn't, it holds up under your lips and warms them. It's intoxicating, your lips on his skin, so close to his chest. It's exhilarating. You have to get away.

"There." You grouse, practically glaring at him despite the blush at your cheeks as you straighten, "Better?"

"Yes," He whimpers, and it's small, broken, pathetic, "Thank you."

You shut the door without another word, letting him wipe his own tears.

His car is surprisingly nice. Where you'd expect fast food wrappers and condoms, you find an air freshener.

He grabs it excitedly, shoving it into your face as you start down the road, "Darlin' you gotta- gotta smell! It smells like ocean breeze."

It slips over your eyes and you strain to get away from it, "Okay, Hangman, okay! It smells very nice," You gush, giving him the attention he's seeking. He preens proudly as he hooks it around his mirror once more, but he doesn't settle into his seat.

"Those are cool jeans," He prods a finger at your thigh, and even though you know it's drunken rather than lustful, his touch makes you shiver.

"They were five dollars," You humor him, feeling him fiddle carefully with the ripped strands of fraying string showcasing your skin.

"Cheap." He murmurs, concentration far too heavy on rearranging the strings. Half of them have ripped beyond repair from where they were stretched over your thigh, but he seems to be playing with them like they're yarn to a housecat. You have the sudden urge to run a hand through his hair and see if he purrs.

"My house is that way," Jake points blearily through the windshield down a one-way street, "It's the big blue one."

"You live in an apartment," You turn the wheel in the opposite direction, "And it's not blue, and it's not that way."

"Oh so you-" He hiccups, "-know where I live?"

"I do," You nod, keeping your eyes on the road even when his fingers keep pawing at your jeans, "I've been there before. Remember? We had a movie night."

"Oh yeah," He nods, brow furrowed, "Payback spilled his water on my carpet."

"Not water," You snort, remembering the cheap liquor spilled over the shag, "But yeah, he did."

There's a bout of silence that follows your words, shadows ripping through the car as you pass beneath trees. The road is paved unevenly in a few spots, and Jake's car bounces on its tires.

"Woah," He grumbles, head bumping your shoulder after a particularly raucous pothole, "Look! Look they're in a- a heart."

You slow to a stop in front of his apartment and glance down to where his finger is digging into your thigh. The loose strings on your jeans have all been twisted and tied into a heart that overlays the rip, puffy and frayed where it rests against your leg.

"Oh," You let the sincerity of the gesture steal the breath from your lungs, even if it does come out of a drunk man, "That's pretty, Hangman. Thanks."

You unlatch your seatbelt, breaking his trance. The heart, tied at the bottom and woven through other strands at its apexes, stays tightly knotted into your jeans, and you wonder if you'll ever be able to get it out. It's the last of your concerns, though, as Jake fumbles with his own seatbelt.

He finally jabs just right at the button, though it's after a string of mumbled frustrations. You swear you hear something along the lines of "You're pretty." thrown into the mix, but you choose to ignore it so that your hands don't get sweaty. You probably misheard.

It's a wonder that he's able to get himself out of the car. He lands with a crunch of gravel onto the driveway of his apartment, feet planted firmly beneath him. You suppose he might have sobered slightly during the long, quiet drive, and you're just glad you don't have to press him to yourself anymore to keep him upright.

Thankfully, he knows which door is his, but he forgets that you have his keys. You keep a hand stuffed into your pocket, curled around them, while he fumbles in his pocket for them.

“Damn,” He hisses, patting his pockets and coming up empty, “My- my keys are gone. I think someone took them, we have to-”

“I have your keys,” You’re far too smug as you hold them up, the ring hooked over your middle finger, “Remember? That’s why I drove?”

“Oh.” His brows furrow, and the word adorable flashes through your head before you can stop it. As soon as you acknowledge it, though, it’s gone in a puff of smoke.

“I’ll do it.” You carefully shoo his hands away from the door, slipping the key in and turning it. His apartment is neat, you’ll give him that, but you suppose it’s because he doesn’t have time to mess it up. You toe off your shoes in the doorway, leaving them in a heap which he contributes to. His boots are going to muck up your white wedges, but you can’t care about that right now. What’s more important is making sure Hangman doesn’t head straight for his own liquor stash, which of course, he does.

“No,” You rush for the bottle he’s about to grab, “You’re cut off for the night. Remember?”

“No,” His brow furrows, and he stares at your fingers wrapped around his own against the neck of the bottle, “I don’t.”

At least you know he’s being honest. You pry his hand off of the bottle, setting it back on the counter and letting go of his fingers. You expect them to drop but they don’t, they curl around your own and slot your palms together.

You stiffen but he doesn’t seem to notice, his hand still enveloping yours in a gesture that sends heat rushing up from your fingertips and straight to your heart. You glance down first, then up at him, finding a gooey, lovesick smile on his face paired with empty eyes.

“Hi, darlin’.” He gushes, and squeezes your hand.

Fuck.

“Okay, bedtime.” You decide, trying to pry your hand out of his grip. He won’t let you, though, the more you pull the closer he gets. Until he’s pressed to you, his right thigh to your left, chest-to-chest, smiling contently at you.

If you can’t make him let go, you suppose you can move. So you do, you lead him through the short hallway, and flick the light on in his bedroom. His room is.. less neat. There’s clothes on the floor, and what looks dangerously like an old pizza box sticking out from under the bed. You decide to ignore it for time’s sake, your main goal is to get Jake into bed before he tips over.

He looks close to it now, stumbling towards his nightstand to snatch a necklace off of it. It’s a delicate silver chain, and there’s a pretty heart pendant on it.

“Look,” He shows it off, “‘S my mom’s. She gave it to me before I came down here.”

“That’s very sweet,” You croon, and all of a sudden you want to know more about Mama Seresin, “I think I’d like to see you wear that someday, Hangman.”

“That’d look silly.” He muses, eyes shiny as they rove over the charm, finally putting it down to look back at you, “But if you’d really like it I’ll do it.”

You suppose that if anything comes out of his drunken stupor, it’ll be a hell of a lot of blackmail material. Apparently he’s blabby when drunk, and you’ll definitely ask why he’s not wearing his mom’s necklace tomorrow when you meet for breakfast.

“Okay, Jake, let’s get you changed.” You hum, glancing around his room and peering apprehensively at his dresser. You turn back, intent on asking him which drawers you should avoid opening, and are met with-

“Jake! Put- put your pants back on!”

Your hands fly to your eyes to shield yourself from the sight of Jake Seresin’s Uncovered Crotch, but you forget that he’s still clinging tight to you, and he stumbles along with you. All you can do is let out a strangled cry as his outer thigh presses against yours, praying nothing else will.

“Put your boxers back on,” You beg, “And- and get into pajamas! Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Jake giggles, far too inebriated to read the room, “That’s what they all say.”

“I hate you,” You groan, and finally, he lets go of your hand.

There’s absolute silence for too long, but just before you can urge him to hurry up and get dressed, he speaks.

“You do?”

HIs voice is unlike you’ve ever heard it. Jake has a particular talent for boasting, and his voice often bleeds confidence, loud and strong and clear. Now it’s small, unsure and weak.

“Get dressed,” You huff, “With pants, please.”

You’re not eager to admit it, but you don’t hate him. Not at all. Sure, he annoys you, but he annoys everyone. He shoves confetti through the slats in your locker so that opening it triggers a snowstorm, he steals food from your plate when his own is nearly full, and he always, always knocks his knuckles against your helmet. But he’s never mean, he’s never insulted you or pushed you or demeaned you. So you can’t find it in yourself to hate him, even if you don’t always like him.

Or maybe you do. Maybe you bite back a smile when you find confetti on the ground, and maybe you bend over with your back to him just in case he likes what he sees. Maybe you steal his food right back, and maybe the best part of your day is when you make it a competition, and he practically crawls over Fanboy to try to nab a piece of your orange chicken. Maybe the rapping of his knuckles on your helmet makes you want to respond by bumping it against his chest, an urge you’ve never dared to act on.

Feigning hatred is much easier, you’ve found, than admitting love.

His voice cuts through your thoughts, still devoid of its usual enthusiasm, “I’m dressed.”

You let your hands fall to your sides with a relieved sigh, and though your vision is somewhat bleary from being covered for so long, you work with it, blinking until you can see his form, already under the covers on his bed and facing away from you.

“Okay,” You hum awkwardly, glancing around the room, “You’re gonna need medicine in the morning. And water, so-”

“Pills are in the bathroom cabinet, there’s a cup on the counter.” He drawls, voice muffled by his pillow.

You bustle off to gather those, and when you reenter his bedroom you find him staring at the wall. It’s a sad expression, an empty one, but you suppose that’s what binge drinking does to a man.

“I’m gonna head out,” You speak to his back, setting the pills and glass down on his nightstand, “Are you.. gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” He hums, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” You mumble, more than ready to flee the awkward scene, “Bye, Jake.”

“Do you really hate me?”

You freeze in the doorway, heart thudding in your chest. You turn slow, your eyes meeting Jake’s before your body faces him, giving you enough time to figure out a response.

“No,” You speak carefully, “I- I was just teasing, Jake. I don’t hate you.”

“You’re sure?” He peers up anxiously at you, looking more like a scared child than a naval aviator, “You really don’t?”

“I’m sure,” You nod, gracing him with a soft smile to soothe his nerves, “I don’t hate you, Jake.” “Okay,” He breathes, his frown flattening out into a neutral expression as his eyes drink you in, “Thanks, Y/N. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime,” You promise, and you mean it more than you’ll let on, “Get some rest, Jake, we’re meeting for breakfast at nine tomorrow.”

He nods, and that’s your cue to leave. Your shoes are still by the door, and you slip them on, fiddling with the straps. When you straighten up from where you’d hunched over you spot Jake’s keys where you’d left them on his entryway table, and realize he won’t know where they are in the morning. You don’t want him to panic, so you scoop them up, knowing that his door auto-locks behind him as a part of the apartment’s security features. You’ll be able to leave without the keys, and he won’t be at risk overnight.

You pad quietly back into his room, intent on setting the keys by the glass of water and leaving. But you realize that he’s already asleep, the magic of booze eliciting soft, even breaths from him that ricochet off of the pillow he’s smushed against and blow his hair back. You stifle a giggle at the sight, and pride yourself for how much self control it takes not to record it.

You set the keys down, and your heel catches on the pizza box beneath his bed. Your nose wrinkles, and you decide there’s no good reason for Jake to be keeping old food under his bed, of all places.

You pick it up and it feels nearly empty, prompting confusion on your part. Pizza is not weightless.

Maybe you should, maybe you shouldn’t, but you decide to flip the lid open. You brace the box on his nightstand and pop the top, your eyes landing on a collection of memorabilia inside, not cheese and bread.

You recognize a chubby baby as Jake himself, a slightly aged photo that looks delicate. You bite back a soft smile, but decide that his baby pictures are none of your business, fingers ghosting over the lid to shut it once more now that you know he’s not hoarding Papa John’s beneath his mattress.

Just before the lid closes, your heart stops. Your eyes catch a picture of just about the last face you’d ever expect to see in a pizza box under Jake Seresin’s bed: your own. It’s a picture of you talking to Payback, eyes shut and crinkled at the corners, mouth open in a laugh you’re sure was less-than-graceful at whatever the other aviator had said. You pick the photo up, pushing away a jewelry box that’s lying on top of its corner, and finding dozens more of your squadron beneath it. There’s one flipped on its front, and Jake’s scrawled sharpie over it, ‘Rooster being dumb. 6-07-2022.’

Upon inspection, the photo is of Bradley making a fool of himself. He’s halfway to the ground, foot caught in the sand as he topples over. You remember that day, you’d all laughed when he’d emerged with a mustache-full of sand.

You flip the photo of yourself, brows furrowing when the description is less-than-understandable.

‘Third time. 5-03-2021.’

Third time.. Third time you’d… laughed at Payback’s jokes? Definitely not, he’s quick on his toes and surprisingly witty.

Thumbing through each photo of you and your friends, the descriptions are all simple. ‘Natasha losing a bet’ showcases her rare defeated look, and of course Jake would have that documented. ‘Fanboy exhaling lemonade’ is self-explanatory, the substance shooting out of his nose in response to the Bradley-Sand-Mustache incident. The only ones you can’t figure out are your own, ‘First time. 4-25-2020’, ‘Second time. 10-10-2020’, and even, ‘Relapse. 9-14-2022;.

For the life of you, you can’t figure them out. You realize that you’ve been sifting through Hangman’s personal possessions far longer than you should have been, stuffing them all back inside the pizza box and sliding it beneath his bed. Something strange and confusing clouds your brain as you make your way to the front door, and you barely remember to listen for the click of the automatic lock when you leave.

Your apartment isn’t far from Jake’s, it’s only a few streets down, and you’d hitched a ride with Omaha to the Hard Deck anyways. You won’t make him pick you up to drive you three blocks.

There’s something infuriating about knowing that Jake writes about you in code. It’s like a mental game, and you’re losing. You ponder it all the way back to your apartment, and you dig your own keys out of your pocket to get yourself inside.

Your determination to figure Jake’s code out only transforms into insomnia, and you fall asleep at nearly three in the morning, alarms set for five hours ahead, wondering if you’ll ever find out what they mean.

Surprisingly, for how you’d left him last night, Jake is the first one to show up to Team Breakfast. Your typical spot at the local cafe is inhabited by none other than Hangman, checking his watch to see how late everyone was running so far.

“You’re here early,” You marvel, and his head shoots up to meet your gaze. He grins sheepishly, nodding, “I had too much of a headache to go back to sleep.”

“Oooh,” You laugh, “Tough luck.”

“Yeah. Reckon’ I drank a lot last night?” He asks, already grimacing in expectation of your response.

You take a particular pleasure in nodding, “You tried kissing Bradley.”

He hadn’t, at least, not on this particular occasion. Rooster has gotten his fair share of Drunk Hangman Love, as have you all, but this time he’d stayed away from anything too intimate.

“Shit,” Hangman grimaces, screwing his eyes up and plunking his chin to his chest, “I thought you said Bob was gonna start watching out for that?”

“He did,” You snort, “He saw it about to happen, and left before you could do it to him. He watched out for himself.”

Jake mumbles something, probably along the lines of ‘typical’, but it’s as he raises his head again, and the glint of something silver at his neck catches your eye. You squint, hard, glimpsing a familiar heart-shaped pendant pressed to his chest and outlined beneath his shirt.

“Oh my god,” You laugh, “The necklace! You’re really wearing it.”

He bites back a smirk and fits his lips to the rim of his water glass instead, “I told you I’d wear it. I’m no chicken.”

“Send a picture to your mom,” You suggest, “Tell her you’ve got her heart with you.”

His smile dims, something apprehensive in his eyes.

“You went through the box under my bed last night, didn’t you?”

You still at the question, your eyes wide, “What?”

“I heard you,” He admits, “I’m- I’m not mad, or anything. I just.. I know you did.”

“I’m sorry,” Even if he’s not upset, you feel awkward, like a kid caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar, “It was none of my business, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” He shakes his head, reaching back for the clasp on the necklace, “It was your business. Is, if..” He hesitates, face screwed up in concentration.

“Y/N,” He finally continues, necklace now pinched between his fingers, “This isn’t my mom’s.”

“Oh?” You pry cautiously, “Who’s is it, then?”

“Yours.” He admits, and your brows furrow.

“It’s not mine, I’ve never had one like that. I- I guess someone must have left it at your apartment or something, maybe Phoenix?”

“No,” He sighs, eyes screwed shut, “I mean- I mean I bought it for you.”

“You,, you bought that necklace.. for me?”

“Yeah,” He nods, “Did you see the box in there?”

You nod, recalling the teal case.

“I bought it for you for your birthday last year. Chickened out before I could give it to you, though. That’s why I had to give you half a bottle of whiskey.”

His lackluster birthday present made a lot more sense now.

“I know you saw the pictures I’ve got of you,” He continues, keeping his eyes on the pendant of the necklace that he’s pressing against his thumb, “I just thought.. I’d get everything off my chest.”

“First time..” You recall, and he raises his eyes to you questioningly.

“The pictures of me,” You prompt him, “On the back, you had little.. notes? Captions? Whatever, they said first time, second time, third time, relapse. What did those mean?”

He stares at you, the prolonged eye contact making you squirm.

“You sure you don’t hate me?” He asks, just as timid as he had the night before.

“Jake- of course I don’t hate you!” You promise, “Just- tell me, please?”

“They’re every time I fell in love with you.” He murmurs, and your entire world stops spinning. You’ve built it carefully on a foundation of Jake-directed sarcasm and a healthy distance away from your fellow aviator, and when the word ‘love’ slips from his lips the foundation crumbles. You feel everything collapse, every witty comeback, every dramatic eye-roll, every logical pushback. Nothing remains, except love. The word, the feeling, the sound of it coming from his mouth.

Apparently the demolition of your entire world takes too much time. Jake cringes, tucking the necklace into his fist and going to pocket it, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- fuck, I should have just shut my mouth. I won’t bring it up again, we can just forget this, and-”

“Stop,” You reach for his hand, covering his closed fist with your open palm, “Give me the necklace.”

He unfurls his hand, slowly, unsurely. His eyes linger on you, and he watches as you carefully scoop the jewelry from his palm, your fingers delicately brushing over the heart.

“You really love me?” You verify, keeping your eyes on the silver charm so that if this is some sick joke, you won’t see him break the facade. You won’t see the adoration in his eyes turn to mockery, the love to hatred.

“I really do,” He promises, “And I know that I’m not the best at communicating that…”

“What with the constant teasing and badgering?” You glance up at him for the first time since his confession, your view of his face obscured by your lashes.

“Yeah,” He grimaces, “That.”

“Can I be honest with you, Jake?” You bite the inside of your cheek, regretting admitting what you’re about to say before you’ve even said it.

“Yeah,” He breathes, and you think he expects the worst.

“I kind of like it,” You admit, and his frown breaks.

“I knew it,” He gloats, his grin wide and bright, “I knew there was a reason you never say anywhere I couldn’t steal your food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You groan, closing your fist around the necklace, “I haven’t responded to your confession yet, have I, Seresin? Don’t get too cocky.”

As much as you’re teasing him, he takes it seriously. His grin dims, and his eyes soften, worry pooling in his irises.

“I..” You start, eyes on the heart that still lies in the rips of your jeans instead of his own gaze, “I love you, too.”

“You do?” You think you’re starting to like his voice when it’s not brash and cocky, instead sincere and a little timid.

“I do,” You nod, glancing back up at him, “And.. I don’t really know what to do about that. I tried to ignore it, because we work together, and because I wasn’t sure you liked me back, but.. I do love you, Jake.”

“That,” He smiles, real and genuine, “Is something I’ve wanted to hear you say for years, darlin;.”

“Well. you should thank your inebriated self last night,” You laugh, letting him take the necklace from your fist and unclasp it, “You’re very touchy when you’re drunk, and I may or may not have seen your penis.”

“That’s.. not something I remember.” Jake grimaces, pausing with the necklace open in his hands, “Was it.. I mean- did you.. like it?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” You advise Jake, leaning forwards so that he can wrap his arms around your neck, “I’m not talking about your dick at brunch with our friends.”

“They’re not here yet,” He murmurs, and when you lock eyes, you take in the fact that he’s only inches from your face.

There’s a soft click as he clasps the necklace against the base of your hairline, then he drops it to your neck. The chain is cold, but Jake’s hands are warm where they smooth over your cheeks. You let your lashes flutter shut, lips already slightly puckered, waiting for the press of his own over them. You can’t be but a hair’s breadth away from kissing Jake when a shrill scream comes from the parking lot, and your eyes snap open with a start.

You turn, but he doesn’t release your face, instead pressing his cheek to yours as you both look for the culprit. It’s not Natasha you find with her hands clamped over her mouth, but Rooster, though the former is smirking.

“We carpooled,” She informs you, elbowing Bradley in the side, “We were only five minutes late, and you guys have already sucked face?”

“I gave her the necklace,” Hangman reaches over to show off the charm around your neck, “I, uh- asked for Phoenix’s help buying it. I didn’t know what you’d like.”

“Thanks,” You laugh sheepishly, though you’re not sure who you’re talking to. Maybe both of them, “Uh, is that Fanboy’s car?”

It is, tires crunching against spare bits of asphalt as he turns into the parking lot.

“Coyote’s in there, too,” Hangman groans, pulling back from where you’d been smushed together, “Let’s hope they didn’t see.”

“Oh, we’ll tell them,” Natasha promises, and her laugh can only be described as maniacal, “They each owe me $20, they thought she’d say no.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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dixons-sunshine · 5 months

Note

Love your work it’s amazing and helps me with so much shit in my life🎀 been feeling so down insecure lately .could you write something about female reader being really insecure about her appearance and her mind and intelligence ,looking at herself in mirror and Daryl catching her do it. just pure fluff him feeling bad because he wants her to see herself the way he does

That's What Makes You Beautiful | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: While getting ready for the party at Deanna Monroe's house with the other women, old insecurities crept up again after being dormant for a while. However, Daryl won't have his beautiful girl thinking bad things about herself.

Genre: Kinda angsty to fluff.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, insecurities.

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: This was heavily self-indulgent. I struggle with body image issues, so this was easy and yet extremely hard to picture and write. But darling, even though I don't know you personally, please know that I think you're amazing and beautiful! I hope this fic portrays how much I love you, even if I don't know you personally. Daryl in this is me reassuring you that you are enough, and that you are worthy. 💜

(Also, Michonne is your hype woman in this because she is my queen and I need her to hype me up when I feel down.)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Laughter filled the small room that you had found yourself in with Michonne, Rosita, Sasha, Tara, Maggie and Carol. All the women were having a mini fashion show as they tried on different dresses and shoes, having the time of their lives as they did something that everyone missed from the world before the dead started walking. However, the same couldn't be said for you.

You smiled weakly at Rosita as she showed off the dress she was wearing, eyeing the way the dress fit her curves perfectly. In fact, all the women looked amazingly beautiful in their dresses. Even Carol, who wasn't wearing a dress and instead opted for a flower shirt and a pair of jeans, looked gorgeous. You couldn't deny that they all looked like princesses, and that made you feel bad about yourself—your old insecurities crept up into your mind again.

The dress that Michonne had picked out for you was splayed across your lap. You had no intention of putting it on anytime soon, preferring to want to do so without any of these stunning women in the room. You wanted to be sure of how you looked before allowing anyone to see you in the dress, and when you more than likely looked terrible in it, you wanted to be able to handle your emotions without everyone present. You didn't need to see their disgusted faces when you wore it.

“Hey, you gonna get dressed and join us downstairs or just sit there and look pretty?” Michonne asked playfully, snapping you from your thoughts.

You winced at her words, but plastered on a small smile. “You guys go on ahead. There's something I need to do before getting changed,” you lied.

Michonne frowned slightly, seeing right through your lie but choosing not to address it in front of everyone. She'd pull you aside later and ask what was wrong. For now, however, she understood that you wanted everyone to leave, and she nodded at you.

“Okay, we'll see you when you come downstairs,” she replied, ushering the other women out of the room. She turned back to you before she left, giving you a questioning look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” you told her, not missing the way she sent you a disapproving look. You sighed and looked down, toying with the dress in your lap. “I'm fine. I'll meet you downstairs, okay?”

Michonne reluctantly nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, pulling the door closed behind her and leaving you alone in the room.

Sighing, you hesitantly got up and started undressing, refusing to meet your reflection in the mirror in front of you. You slowly slipped the dress on, the fabric covering your skin from your chest to your mid thighs. You adjusted the straps over your shoulders, not even trying to zip up the dress from behind. You reluctantly turned towards the mirror and physically recoiled at the sight in front of you.

You continued staring at your reflection in disgust, hating the way you looked. You started getting lost in your own self deprecating thoughts, so much so that you didn't hear the door open behind you, or the footsteps that abruptly stopped in their tracks.

“Wow.”

You flinched and spun around, locking eyes with your partner. Daryl stood by the bed, staring at you with wide eyes. He took a tentative step forward, his eyes trailing over your body.

Mistaking his wide eyes for disgust rather than awe, you crossed your arms over your chest. You tried to shield your body from his view, but Daryl walked over to you and held your arms in his hands, sending you a questioning look.

“Nah, why are ya doin' tha'?” he inquired, rubbing your arms with his hands. “Ya dun' need to hide yerself from me, 'specially not when yer lookin' so pretty all dolled up.”

Without meaning to, you let out a choked sob, tears starting to fall from your eyes. Instinctively, Daryl pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly to his chest. He didn't know why you were crying, but he didn't care. He would comfort you through it, just like you had comforted him through so many things, ranging from his inability to track down Sophia all the way to the guilt he felt over Beth's death.

“I look ridiculous,” you choked out, your cries muffled into his chest. “Everyone looks so beautiful in their dresses and I look like this. I can't—”

“Shh, s'okay,” Daryl whispered into you ear, rocking you from side to side. “S'okay. I got ya.”

He simply held you in his arms, allowing you to cry all your negative emotions into his shirt. When you finally managed to calm down, you pulled back and tearfully looked up at him.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled. “It's so stupid.”

“Nah, it ain't stupid,” Daryl disagreed, taking your face into his hands. “But where's this all comin' from? Why do ya think tha' 'bout yerself?”

“I can't—I don't—”

“Please, peach,” he pleaded, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head, casting your eyes down towards the floor. “I don't know. I just... I grew up being bullied for my looks, about my intelligence, for just about everything. When everything went to shit, I guess those insecurities got buried, but now, wearing this dress, I—”

Daryl cut you off by pressing his lips against yours, but quickly pulled away again. He looked deeply into your eyes, keeping your face in place to ensure that you kept your eyes locked on him.

“Do ya trust me?” he asked.

You nodded your head. “Of course I do.”

“Then listen real close, sunshine,” he began softly yet sternly. “M'not sure wha' fuckin' assholes talked this shit into yer head, but yer not wha' ya think ya are. Yer so unbelievably smart, and ya've proved it a lot of times. S'cause of ya tha' we were able to save Hershel way back when. S'cause of ya tha' we found tha' store with all those supplies while we were on the run fer eight months. Yer such a badass, and yer so unbelievably beautiful. I wish ya could see yerself the way I see ya. Yeah, ya have yer flaws, but they're part of wha' makes ya beautiful. Nobody's perfect, but yer the nearest damn thing there is to it.”

You were flabbergasted. You felt like crying all over again, but from pure happiness this time. “You really think so?”

“I dun' think, I know,” Daryl confirmed. “I love ya so much, bunny.”

“I love you too,” you replied with a small smile on your face. You turned around and faced the mirror again, giving him a full view of the back of your unzipped dress. “Zip me up?”

“'Course,” Daryl nodded, gripping the zipper and slowly zipping up the dress.

You shivered slightly at the feeling of his fingers slowly brushing along your spine. When your dress was zipped up, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. He looked at your reflection with a small smile, staring in awe at how beautiful he found you.

“Damn, woman,” he muttered with a small chuckle. “Yer gon' be the death of me, lookin' all pretty in this damn dress. Pair it with heels and we ain't makin' it outta this room tonigh'.”

You giggled and shyly ducked your head. “That's too bad. I promised Michonne that I'd go to this damn party.”

Daryl groaned and buried his head into your shoulder. “Fuck,” he mumbled, successfully coaxing another laugh from you. “Now I gotta wait? S'fuckin' ridiculous.”

Before you could respond, Rosita and Michonne walked into the room, making you and Daryl withdraw from each other's hold. Michonne and Rosita looked at you, smiles on each of their faces.

Michonne let out a playful wolf whistle. “Look at you! You're putting us all to shame.”

“She's right,” Rosita agreed. “You're looking real stunning. Daryl will have to fight of the other men. They're all going to want your attention.”

“Hell, some ladies, too. Daryl might have to fight me off,” Michonne joked.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Nah, I ain't lettin' anyone take her from me. 'Specially not ya, Michonne.”

Michonne laughed lightly. “Can't blame a girl for trying.”

As Michonne and Daryl bickered back and forth, with Rosita adding her own playful input, you couldn't help but feel happy. In a matter of minutes, your partner and two of your closest friends had managed to cheer you up. You doubted that your insecurities would ever fully go away, but with people you love there to remind you of your worth, you would be more than okay.

And, just to tease Daryl a bit that night, you did end up wearing the heels with the dress, and Daryl made sure you knew just how beautiful you were to him that night—by worshipping your body like the goddess you were.

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ur-fav-inactive-writer · 10 months

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Klaus Hargreeves x Sister!Reader

Summary; Most people hate their siblings. This is not the case for two of the Hargreeves. A big brother, his baby sister, and a whole load of chaos.

CW: cringy tries at inserting lyrics, swearing, a bit angsty, mention of drugs, bad writing ig, not proofread

WC: 1908

On an early Saturday morning, the Hargreeves' children were awoken by Pogo. They were all fourteen at this point and were used to being awoken early in the morning to do training. They reached for their training gear, but Pogo stopped them.

"Ah, actually, today your father needs to discuss and announce something, so training is delayed for the hour" All the Hargreeves children were confused, but dressed themselves and lined up in the living area. Their father came into the room and, to their surprise, was holding a small infant. They gasped in surprise, staring at the child. "Children, this is number 8. They, like you, have powers. They have the ability of water manipulation, and I will be raising them alongside you."

They all stared at the child, taking in their features and their peaceful expression. Klaus stared at them; he felt a strange connection to this kid. Reginald placed the child into a bassinet and left the room, and ordered the siblings to get back to training. They all wanted to stay for a moment and process what was going on, but Grace shooed them out of the room. Klaus stepped outside so his mother would get off his back but went back into the living area once she'd left. With shaking hands, he reached for the baby. He gently picked up the child, and her eyes fluttered open and stared at Klaus. Her expression changed to one of confusion, and Klaus panicked, thinking she would begin to cry. Much to Klaus' surprise, the baby began to giggle. At that moment, Klaus just knew he'd have a special bond with that little girl.

☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

*4 Years Later*

Klaus really did love her. He did. But not even his love for her could make him stand the thought of spending a second longer in that house with his cruel father. He felt terrible. Most of the Hargreeves' children had left home already, moving out and pursuing a new life. Klaus had held off on this for a while, wanting to stay for (Y/N). But he just couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to stay and protect her, she still had at least twelve more years here, and God knows what their father would do with her once none of her siblings could defend her. After the fight Klaus had with his father, though, he couldn't stand the thought of staying in that house anymore. He felt horrible, he couldn't leave without a goodbye, but you were nowhere to be found at that point, likely somewhere with Grace. He sighed, collecting a few of his things that he didn't mind leaving in your possession. He grabbed a photo of the two of you from his nightstand. The photograph captured one of you and Klaus' many good memories. In the photo, you were on Klaus' bed. Klaus was tickling you, and you were laying on the bed, shrieking, giggling, and kicking. You had a bright grin, and Klaus was looking up at you with pure adoration in his eyes. He felt tears swell in his eyes, reminiscing on that precious moment, but he blinked them away. He grabbed your favourite glittery gel pen and began to write on the back of the photo.

Dear (Y/N/N), I'm sorry, but I have to go. You need to know that I still love you, though. You're the most amazing little sister in the world, and I'm gonna miss you. I'm sorry for leaving you but I can't stay any longer. I'll see you soon, sunshine. I'm gonna miss you so much.

- Klausy"

He felt horrible for leaving the poor girl behind; she was so small and vulnerable. He'd come back for her someday. He put his things into a pile and left the photo and note on her bed. A tear rolled down his cheek as he went to leave your room. Just before he left, he grabbed one of your stuffed animals. You and Klaus always played with it when you were little. He shoved into his bag and walked out of your room. He shut the door, climbed out his window, and didn't return to the Hargreeves' mansion for years.

☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

*12 years later*

You were 16 by now. It had been a long time since you'd seen any of your siblings, and you missed them dearly. You hadn't seen or heard from Klaus since he left that note on your bed. It broke your heart when he left, he was your best friend. You still had all your brothers belongings that he left in your room and kept whatever he left in his bedroom. You were 4 when he left and had grown a ton since he had left. It had been 4 years since you had seen any of your siblings. The last one of your siblings you saw was Luther before he went to the moon, even then, he didn't ever talk to you much. You liked watching the news or movies to see your sister, Allison, or your brother, Viktor, or even your other brother, Diego. Your father had recently passed away, and you were devastated. He was a cruel, cruel man, but he was still your father. However, this meant a funeral would be held.

You prayed that Klaus would come to it, wanting nothing more than to see your favourite brother again. It was finally the day of the funeral. You changed into your black dress, with tights and your black converse. You got dressed and applied your makeup before heading downstairs. There was a knock on the door, and you ran down the stairs to answer it. Your eyes blew wide to see it was Klaus. You went to leap on him, but he stopped you. His eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed out of it. You quickly realised that he was on drugs and likely didn't recognise you, considering how much you had grown up since he last saw you.

"Klausy?" You said quietly, in shock. He stared at you, perplexed, until he remembered that nickname. "Oh (Y/N/N)!" He shrieked and hugged you tightly. "Oh, how I missed you, sunshine!" You smiled happily and hugged your brother back tightly. It was weird to see him now, he looked so different. But it had been 12 years of no contact, and you also looked drastically different, so you couldn't say much.

☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

*a few hours later*

You had spent your last few hours greeting your other siblings and doing other random things but spent the majority of it bonding with Klaus. He was amazed at how grown up you now were and felt a pang of guilt, knowing he missed all of your childhood. You both went over what you had been up to for those past few years and Klaus listened intently to every word you said.

It was nearly time for the funeral when you heard something outside. Everyone rushed outside, and you saw something that looked like a bright blue portal. You stared in confusion, hidden behind your brothers. Much to your surprise, a boy (who looked a couple years younger than you) fell from the portal. All your siblings seemed shocked to see him, as if they knew him, but didn't expect him to be there. He looked somewhat familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

"Does anyone else see little number Five? Or is that just me..?" Klaus said, unsure if the drugs were causing him to see things.

The boy looked around, staring at the faces of his siblings. "Shit."

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You had now properly introduced yourself to Five and realised where you recognised him from. He was in the painting over the mantel. He knew of your existence from Viktor's book but was somewhat glad to formally meet you. It was now time for the funeral... it didn't exactly go down well. Diego made some ballsy remark, and it all kicked off. Him and Luther began to shove each other. You watched, eyes blown wide. You were stood with Klaus underneath his pink umbrella. Klaus watched as they fought, pushing you behind him and putting his arm out in front of you. Your breath hitched, you were scared at the sight. Klaus encouraged the fight until he saw your reaction. He covered your eyes, "Oh cmon, not in front of the kid!" As the words fell from his mouth, they crashed into Ben's statue. You heard the crash and Allison bluntly say 'Well, there goes Ben's statue.' Klaus did enjoy watching fights but wanted you away from the scene.

You sat down on the sofa, shaken by the scene. You knew Diego was violent and ballsy but you never expected him to do such things. You were staring into space, paying no attention to your surroundings until you felt the sofa dip beside you. You turned your head to see Klaus. "Hey sunshine, so much for a funeral, huh?" He laughed breathily, taking a puff of his cigarette. You looked down, Klaus noticing your dejected state. He put an arm around her. "Cmon, sunshine, no need to get down about it, they're just moody old men. They'll be fine." You smiled softly up at your brother and he grinned at you.

"There's that smile, huh." He said, attempting to make your smile even wider by tickling you. You began to shriek and giggle as he poked at your ribs. He laughed softly, remembering the picture he had left on your bed all those years ago. The memory was bittersweet, he loved it but couldn't help but associate it with abandoning you all.those years ago. He vowed to never leave you like that ever again.

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*dallas, texas, 1963*

It had been a while since you ended up in Dallas, after going through that portal. Luckily for you, you landed with your big sister, Allison. She took you under her wing, allowing you to live with her. She told Ray that you were 16 and just looked a bit old for your age and that she had you when she was in her teens. Ray loved her and believed it, he accepted you as his own daughter. But nothing made you stop missing your big brother. Allison sent you to school in order to not arouse suspicion. You weren't the biggest fan, but it helped you to keep your cover. One day, you'd had a pretty shitty day and stormed into the house. You hoped to collapse onto the sofa and just lay there. As you slammed the front door you heard a man's voice as well as Allison's. You peeked into the living room, seeing Klaus. "Klaus?!" He looked up at you, "Oh, sunshine! Just the girl I wanted to see!" He leapt up from the sofa, taking you into his embrace. Allison smiled, opting to leave you two to have a moment. He pulled away, wanting to see how much you'd grown since you last saw each other but noticed your tear-stained cheeks and red eyes. "Whoa, whoa, woah, what happened to you sunshine?"

"N-nothing, it's fine." You sniffled, averting your gaze to the floor. "Talk to me, what's going on?" With this, your eyes teared up again, and you broke down crying, explaining what had happened. Klaus held you, stroking your hair and consoling you. "It's gonna be okay sunshine, you should know I'll be there for you." You smiled up at him weakly, and he dried one of your tears. "If we have each other, we'll both be fine." He said with a soft smile.

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A/N: I'm aware this is a bit shit but im js tryna get back into writing so i tried this out :) hope you like reading it <3

TAGLIST: @book-place @shefollowedthestars

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