#and i realized they followed just to see what i had to say about stove ogres and get angry after

[smileysuh]

night terror

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As much as you love being a mother, you think some of your favorite moments might just happen when the kids are asleep. Seeing Seungcheol with Hana and Daehyun is one of the great joys of your life, but you have needs too, and after a long day, you really need something to help you relax.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, bathroom sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, praise, fingering, blow job, deep throating, mentions of masochism, loud sex, your kid hearing you scream during sex and then your husband lies to her and says it's night terrors when really it's him - he's the night terror, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.2k

🍭 aus. rich businessman cheol, husband cheol, established relationship, father cheol, stay at home mom reader, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. i need a rich husband sugar daddy and i need him now

There had been a time in his life when Seungcheol had thought he might never settle down. As a busy businessman, he’d never been able to comprehend how it would be possible to factor a wife - let alone children - into his schedule. But then, one summer afternoon, he’d met you, and all his fears had vanished.

His previous relationships had been marred with accusations about his lack of making time, and he’d been ready to repeat the same issues with you. However, the conflicts never came. You were a strong, capable, young woman, and as the first months of you flew by blissfully, Seungcheol had realized you accepted him for him, work and all. If anything, distance made the heart grow fonder, and when you were together, you both gave each other your complete attention, nurturing the relationship in a way that he’d never had a relationship truly nurtured before. 

Six months in, he’d asked you to marry him, and it was the most confident he’d ever been with a decision in his entire life. When you’d gotten pregnant, only a short while after your honeymoon, the two of you had sat down to discuss what being parents would look like. You’d both been committed to giving your children the best lives possible going forward, and - knowing he’d be around less than a dad with a different, less demanding job - Seungcheol had asked if you’d be interested in the stay-at-home life.

It’s been five years since then, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where Seungcheol has questioned his decisions with you. He comes home at erratic times in the evening, but he always finds you excelling at motherhood. 

He truly doesn’t know how you do it and make it look easy. You have such a gentle way with not only the kids, but him as well, and he almost feels as if you were meant for this role. You’re a caregiver, through and through, and Seungcheol thinks he must be one of the luckiest men in the whole world to be able to fulfill the provider counterpart. 

It’s a Monday evening, and he’s managed to get off work early. When he arrives at your large family home, he follows the sound of giggles to the kitchen. This room has been the heart of your house ever since the kids were old enough to follow you around it like ducklings, watching you cook with eyes full of wonder - he thinks they must get that trait from him at least. 

He leans against the wall while he watches you, taking in the vision in front of him. It’s mac and cheese night, a long-held tradition in your household, wherein you help the kids make the base, and allow them to choose their favorite toppings to go in the ramekins before oven baking. 

The elder of your children, Daehyun, is more adventurous, and it looks like you’re helping him saute a pan of mushrooms on the gas stove top. Even while dealing with the hot element, and a little boy grabbing at your apron while teetering on his cooking step stool, you’re giving just as much attention to your youngest. 

Hana is the apple of Seungcheol’s eye, and - bless her heart - she’s a cheese fiend. There must be five different kinds of cheese on the counter, and you’re softly talking to her while she struggles to grate a small block of what looks to be gruyere. 

“You’re doing so well,” you tell your daughter. “Give mommy just a moment and she’ll help you grate the last of it. I don’t want you hurting your hands.”

“Okay, mama,” Hana nods, setting the cheese down before leaning over to watch you stir the pan. 

“Do you want to try a mushroom, sweetheart?” you ask, picking one out of the pan to taste for yourself. “They’re very good.”

Hana’s always been better at trying new things if you or Seungcheol go first, and the businessman finds himself smiling while he watches the soft moment.

“Okay,” Hana says, but she doesn’t sound too sure. 

“It’s a little hot, so I’m going to put it on the cutting board to cool before either of you taste it, okay?” You lift a few mushrooms from the sizzling pan, setting them down and gently blowing away the steam. “Let me know if these are good, Daehyun, or if you’d like me to cook them a little longer to make them more crispy.”

The three of you are so wrapped up in your own little world, and Seungcheol supposes the soft classical music in the background had drowned out the sound of his footfalls as he’d approached. He decides it’s a good time to make his presence known, so he moves into the room, coming to stand on the other side of the island countertop.

“Look at you three chefs,” he muses.

“Daddy!” His children scream, with Daehyun jumping from his stool to run around the table and hug Seungcheol around the waist. Hana, meanwhile, still needs help getting down from the steps, and Seungcheol watches you lift the small child to set her on the floor so she can join her brother on the other side of Seungcheol. 

“It smells good,” Seungcheol tells you, smiling at you as he rubs the backs of his children.

“We were just trying mushrooms!” Daehyun announces, releasing Seungcheol in favour of running to you to grab the food before dashing back to his dad, holding his hand out. 

Seungcheol accepts the mushroom, and he tries it, letting out an embellished groan. “These are great,” he says, which prompts both children to try them too.

“Perfect!” Daehyun agrees.

Seungcheol watches you turn off the heat under the pan, moving to finish grating the gruyere for Hana. “How was work, my love?” you ask.

“Fine,” he sighs, not wanting to think about his job in a moment like this. “I couldn’t miss mac and cheese night. How were things around here?”

“Hana, why don’t you tell daddy about preschool?” you suggest, moving a pan of preprepared pasta bake ramekins on a tray to the island counter. 

“We did art!” Hana says proudly. “Made something for you.”

“Really?” Seungcheol loves receiving drawings from his kids. “Want to go grab it for me?”

You’re two steps ahead of him, even while cooking, and you reach behind yourself to grab a piece of paper from the fridge. You hold it out to Seungcheol, and he takes it from you, smiling widely as he looks at the image.

“It’s our family,” Hana explains, although, with the dad character holding a briefcase and dressed in a suit, Seungcheol thinks it would be impossible for him to think it’s anything else.

“I love it, you’re going to be an artist one day,” he tells her, reaching down to pick her up, tucking her by his hip. “And how about you, Daehyun? How was soccer practice?”

“Mommy picked me up after school and she had veggie snacks which weren’t that good but I ate them anyways, and we did practice and I scored goals-” Seungcheol loves how his son rambles, and he listens patiently while Daehyun describes finding a coin on the field that he can add to his collection of treasures he’s picked up throughout his life.

By the time the story is finished, you’ve already put the mac and cheese in the oven, and you’re standing with your palms on the counter, watching Seungcheol interact with his children. There’s a gentle smile on your face, your eyes lit up with affection.

Seungcheol is drawn to you, and he walks around the island, Hana still tucked on his hip. “Hi,” he says softly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “How was mommy’s day?”

“Good,” you respond. “Hana and I went to a greenery after preschool to get some new plants for the garden.”

“Oh yeah?” Seungcheol looks down at his daughter. “Did you two find anything nice?”

“Mommy got me a bouquet of tulips,” Hana confirms. 

“We also got a few more lavender bushes and some rosemary,” you add. “She played with bubbles while I planted them, and then we went to get Daehyun for soccer. A few of his friends came over with their moms after that to play in the pool, and then we started mac and cheese.”

“Sounds like a full day,” Seungcheol nods. He’s constantly in awe of how you juggle both kids, house maintenance, a social life, and cooking. 

“The kids are tuckered out,” you say, reaching out to brush some hair from Hana’s face. “They were thinking we could watch some Disney movies after dinner before bed.”

“Well we can’t say no to that, can we,” Seungcheol smiles. 

“No, we can’t,” you agree. “Daehyun, the mac and cheese is in the oven, should we start on a salad?”

“Do we have to?” he asks.

“Greens are an important part of a healthy diet,” you remind the little boy who’s always had problems with his veggies. “How about you help me choose what type of salad to make?”

“Can we have the one with lots of cheese?” Hana questions.

Seungcheol loves his little cheese fiend, he loves his family, and most of all, he loves that he gets to share it with you every day.

After being filled up with hot mac and cheese, the kids had fallen asleep less than thirty minutes into their movie. Seungcheol had carried them to bed, double checking to make sure they were tucked in all right, and now, he heads into your shared room, closing the soundproof doors behind him.

“I’ve said it already, but I’ll say it again, dinner was great,” he tells you, as he heads to his closet to begin removing his button-up shirt. “Even the salad was good, I haven’t seen Daehyun eat that many greens in months.” 

“He’s warming up to them,” you smile, coming up behind your husband to give him a hug from behind, your cheek pressed to his back. “We were all happy you were there to eat with us. I know work has been busy, so I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

“And miss mac and cheese night?” Seungcheol scoffs. “Not even Jeon Wonwoo himself could keep me from that.”

You laugh at the mention of his business partner. “He can join next time, if he has the time. Hana misses Uncle Woo.”

“That's because he dotes on her.”

“As if you don’t.” 

“We all do, she’s a special kid, that one.”

“They both are,” you muse. “Daehyun downplayed it, but he was doing really well in practice. Coach says he has some real talent. Apparently he can’t shut up about the way that you take him to games twice a month in box seats. I think it’s making a huge difference.”

“That’s good to hear,” Seungcheol smiles. 

“Anyways, enough about our days,” you sigh. “Do you need a shower?”

“Why? Do I smell?” Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle.

“No, I was just thinking I might have one, and maybe you’d like to join me.”

Seungcheol groans. “Well, now I definitely need a shower.”

“Perfect.” You pull away from his back, reaching down to take off your shirt as you head to the bathroom. “I’ll see you in there, daddy.” 

As much as you love being a mother, you think some of your favorite moments might just happen when the kids are asleep. Seeing Seungcheol with Hana and Daehyun is one of the great joys of your life, but you have needs too, and after a long day, you really need something to help you relax. 

You turn the shower on, and as the spa-like bathroom fills with steam, you undo your pants. You’re slipping out of the fabric when Seungcheol joins you. His large form gently presses against your back, and his lips find your shoulder. His hands smooth down your arms softly, and he presses his crotch against your bum, showing you how turned on he is.

“You look so beautiful today,” he tells you.

“And you look as sexy as ever,” you respond, smiling while leaning back against his bare chest. 

“I do, do I?” You feel him grin where he’s kissing your neck, and you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of him. “Guess this means we’re a match made in heaven.”

You love when he sweet-talks you like this, and when his hand slips down your abdomen to cup your pussy, you let out a groan of pleasure. “Should we go in the shower?”

“The shower can wait,” Seungcheol states, “and these panties have to come off.”

“You got it, daddy.” You hook your fingers in the waistband, pushing them down so his eager fingers can touch you directly. The contact has you shivering, and he begins to circle your clit. 

“How did I ever get so lucky with you?” he asks, teasing you while he grinds against your ass.

“I ask myself the same question every day,” you confess, whimpering when one of his large fingers slips into your core. 

“I think I’m the lucky one,” Seungcheol tells you, sucking on the sweet spot on your throat that always makes your entire body react. 

“Agree to disagree,” you whisper, consumed by the feeling of his fingers as he adds a second one, working you open. 

“It’s torture spending a whole day without being able to touch you,” your husband confesses, as he applies pressure to your clit with his palm.

You know exactly how he feels, and although you’re leaning into his touch, allowing him to be the one exploring your form, you know your patience will run dry soon. You need his cock, more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

It’s tantalizing, having his large bulge rubbing against your ass while he finger fucks you closer and closer to a release that’s always much too easy for him to earn. 

You turn your head to the side, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his lips to your own. 

After all these years, Seungcheol knows your body inside and out. There are no words that need to be spoken as he gets you closer and closer to your high, only whimpered moans and groans of pleasure as you remain lip-locked.

Your first orgasm overtakes you, and you gasp into the kiss, wiggling your hips for more stimulation while he helps you through it. His free hand is on your waist, and he aids in your motions, which only adds to your pleasure.

“Cheol-” you whisper.

“I know, darling, I know,” he presses his forehead to yours, finishing you off before removing his hand from between your legs. He quickly sucks your juices off his digits before working on your bra, which falls off to join your clothes on the floor.

You turn in his embrace, palms flat to his chest so you can push him back until his bum hits the edge of the sink. “I wanna suck you off,” you tell him, feeling confident and as needy as ever.

“Fuck, I love it when you use that sweet, pretty mouth of yours to say the dirtiest things,” Seungcheol groans, large hands moving down to work on his belt while you sink to your knees on the tiled floor.

“You had a long day,” you tell him, knowing every day is long for the successful businessman, “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good,” he smiles, pushing his pants down so his cock can be released. 

Wasting no time, you wrap your hand around the base, taking one last look up at him to muse, “Well, I want to make you feel great,” before your mouth finds his large cock. 

The sounds he makes during sex have always been a huge turn-on for you, and the groans he lets out as you suckle on the head of his cock are like angels singing. You close your eyes, leaning into the act of pleasuring the man you love most in the world. 

His gentle hand finds your head, and he helps you blow him, taking more of him into your mouth while your hand pumps the base.

“You’re so good,” he whispers. “So fucking good for me.” 

You groan at the praise, and it makes his hips twitch, cock slipping into the back of your throat.

When you’d first been together, you hadn’t been used to the sensation, but after all this time together, you’ve become accustomed to it. In fact, you even kind of enjoy it when he throat-fuckes you, in some odd masochistic kind of way.

He’s slow with it, and you know he’s watching you carefully for any signs that he should let up on you. With you focused on your breathing and relaxing your throat, he never has to actually pull away. You listen to his sounds of pleasure grow, his grip tightening in your hair. 

“Fuck,” he groans, gently pulling you off his cock. “I need you.” 

He helps you to your feet and in one motion, he lifts you up and sets you on the sink, slotting between your legs. Your hands find his strong shoulders while he guides his cock to your pussy. His lip is caught between his teeth in concentration, and your heart swells with love for your husband.

The head of his cock slips into you and you both groan. 

“You’re wound up, darling,” he muses as he sinks a few more inches into you, test thrusting so your wet juices can cover his length and make it easier for you both. “Are you sure you don’t need some more of my fingers?”

“No,” you hold his strong shoulders tighter, “I just need you.”

“Yeah?” he leans in, pressing his lips to yours while his hands find your hips, one slipping to gently cup the small of your back. “Are you still my needy princess?”

It had been the first true pet name that stuck when you’d started dating, and even after all these years, it still makes a tingle run up your spine.

“Yes, Cheol, you feel so good-”

His thrusts have his cock sinking fully inside of you now, and you can’t help the way your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your body is alight with pleasure, and you truly can't help the sounds that are escaping past your lips.

You try your best to be quiet with Cheol most nights, but your kids are asleep. On top of that,  there’s a soundproof bedroom door, a bathroom door and a shower running to muffle your noises, so you figure now is as good a time as any to let loose a little.

“God, I love it when you get loud for me,” Seungcheol groans, leaning forward to pepper your throat in kisses while you lace your fingers through his soft hair. 

Each thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, and you can feel tension building in your abdomen, a sign of another orgasm on its way.

“You look so perfect like this,” your husband muses. Suddenly, he’s pulling away from you. “I want you to see.” 

You moan in annoyance as he pulls out of you, dragging you off the countertop so he can turn you around, facing the steamed mirror. You bend over the sink, letting out a whine when he slips inside of you again, leaning forward with his chest pressed to your back while he wipes a hand along the reflective surface. 

You can see yourself now, and you look completely fucked out. 

Cheol grins behind you, and you love how the reflection showcases how much larger than you he is. With your smaller form in front of him, his shoulders are visible on either side of your own, and his height makes your pussy clench around him.

“Told you it was sexy,” Seungcheol muses, leaning forward again to press his lips to your shoulder. “I want you to watch as I make you cum.”

You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to keep your eyes open, but you nod all the same, eager to please him as he begins to fuck you again. Each thrust has your hips pressing to the marble sink top, and it hurts a little, but the pain is pleasure.

You groan, panting as you watch Seungcheol fuck you from behind through the mirror.

He truly is a vision. each slap of his hips against your ass has your breasts bouncing too-

Steam is quickly covering the mirror again, and you reach out a shaky hand to wipe it away, intent on doing your best to follow through with his command.

“Cheol,” you whimper, his thrusts getting faster, harder- 

“That’s it,” he groans. “Let me hear you.” 

Your sounds are getting louder and louder as the tension in your stomach builds- and when Seungcheol licks two fingers, slipping his hand down your front to play with your clit, the noises of pleasure become uncontrollable. 

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, breath hot against your throat.

Everything feels so intense, the steam in the room adding to your heightened senses, and you nod quickly. You can’t find it in yourself to speak, you can only grab the sink as an anchor while your husband works you to the edge-

“I’m there too,” Seungcheol assures you. “Cum with me.” 

The sound that escapes you as your pussy clamps down on his cock is almost inhuman, and you struggle to keep your eyes open, gazing at your own fucked out expression through the mirror while Seungcheol rides out your highs.

His head is thrown back, throat all gorgeous and on display- 

You love him a stupid amount, and it only makes your core throb harder around his cock while he fills you up with his cum. 

It doesn’t help that his fingers are still on your clit, and you twitch from oversensitivity, letting out another loud cry. Seungcheol’s eyes open, as if he hadn’t even realized what he was still doing, too lost in the feeling of your throbbing cunt- he’s quick to pull his hand away, resting it on your hip as his thrusts begin to slow.

“Fuck,” he groans, “that was good.” 

His lips find your shoulder, and you both do your best to slow your heavy breathing. 

“Now I really need that shower,” you joke, earning a chuckle from the man still inside of you.

“Let's do it,” he says, giving you one last kiss before he pulls out of you.

He grabs your hand, helping you to the shower-

“Shit, did you hear that?” His head turns towards the closed door.

“I didn’t hear anything,” you tell him.

“No, listen, there it is again-” Seungcheol lets go of your hand, and he quickly grabs his robe, wrapping it around his naked body. He opens the bathroom door. “Shit, we woke up one of the kids. I’ll be right back.”

He exits the bathroom, shutting you inside behind him as he tightens his robe, rushing to the large soundproof bedroom doors. When he opens them, he finds Hana standing there, her stuffed teddy in her arms.

“Is Mama okay?” she asks, looking up at him like she’s on the verge of tears.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Seungcheol is quick to sink to his knees, wrapping his daughter in a hug. “You know she gets night terrors sometimes. It was just a bad dream, but I got a shower started for her and she should be okay.”

“Are you sure?” Hana asks, wiping at her eyes.

Seungcheol releases her, taking a look at her face and helping her clear the tear tracks with his thumb. “Yes, love, mama is fine. Here, let me get you back to bed.”

He picks up his daughter, carrying her back to her room. She settles in alright, and with a quick kiss to her forehead and a goodnight, Seungcheol leaves her be. He’s in a rush to get back to you, and as he enters your room and ensuite bathroom, shrugging off his robe, he finds you in the shower.

“I swear that kid has super hearing,” he muses softly, joining you under the water spray and pulling your body tight to his own.

“Maybe our soundproof bedroom door isn’t as soundproof as we thought,” you suggest. “Did you tell her it was night terrors again?”

“That seems to be the company line, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle. He feels a little bad that the lie has gone on for two years already, but what else is he supposed to say to a kid who just heard her mother screaming?

“Hey, Night Terror,” you tug him closer, “you look lost in thought. What’s on your mind?”

Seungcheol sighs. “Just that maybe we need to invest in some good earplugs for the kids.”

You laugh, snuggling close to his chest while he wraps you in his arms. “Darling, I love the way you think.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! sometimes we all just need a short, sweet, established relationship sugar daddy/ A+ actual dad Cheol in our lives, you know?

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  “Fuck the house, I want you here. Now.” You don’t waste another second, grabbing his face and crashing your lips against his. His own hands find your hips, and within moments he’s pulling you onto his lap, growling into the kiss. It’s clear from the way that he’s touching you that he has no objections to fucking in the hot tub.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism, fucking in a hot tub, dry/wet humping, multiple reader orgasms, sensory stuff with the hot tub and heat, breast worship, fingering, cheol using her like a fleshlight, manhandling, some dirty talk, praise, breeding kink, finger sucking,. I petnames. (hers) princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring.Cheol x afab!Reader

bonus

“Uncle Woo!” Hana lights up as one of her favorite people enters the house, and Wonwoo returns her smile, dropping onto one knee to embrace her.

“Hey, Hana,” he grins.

“They told us we were sleeping over with you but I almost didn’t believe it!” Hana raves.

“I got the guest room all set up for you two,” Wonwoo says, standing up while holding your daughter to his chest. His gaze shifts to Daehyun. “Uncle Mingyu and Uncle Vernon are going to pop by for a bit too, they’ve been missing watching soccer with you. I’ve got the game from earlier recorded, you could have some boys' time while I play princesses with Hana.”

God. You love Wonwoo. He’s the best uncle you could have asked for concerning your kids. It’s clear Seungcheol thinks the same, his grip tightening around you while his smile widens. You all watch Hana joyfully rant about playing princesses, and Daehyun is even smiling at the thought of spending time with his favorite uncles.

“Do you two have any special plans for tonight?” Wonwoo asks when there’s a lull in the conversation. 

It’s your anniversary tonight, and you definitely have special plans, but none you can discuss in front of the kids.

“Mostly just taking her out for dinner,” Seungcheol says, which is only half a lie as he turns to gaze at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Nothing too extreme,” you agree, patting his chest. 

Wonwoo gives you a look that tells you he sees through your bluff, but your kids are none the wiser, and - as it is with your ‘night terrors’ - at the end of the day, a few white lies to protect their innocence doesn’t hurt anybody.

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[sereneres]

“ln yn forgetting she’s an idol f…” ⁰

le sserafim x lsfm 6th member!reader / 1.1k

summary. — “ln yn forgetting she’s an idol for five minutes and a few seconds (aka yn having no filter).”

warnings. — cursing / somewhat vulgar language / typical slurring from lsfm!yn / yn encouraging parasocial activities / video-format by @/jihyoruri

“unnie, stop touchin’ m’like that.”

chaewon blinks. yunjin freezes. kazuha promptly looks away from the camera, desperately trying–and failing–to hold back her laughter. eunchae was already snorting. sakura, in an attempt to do damage control, continued talking cheerfully to the camera, subtly shifting so that she could cover whatever was happening behind her with her head.

“practice has been pretty hard.” she says, sighing. “not because the dance is hard, though that’s a reason too, but because it ends pretty late into the night.”

“yah, ln yn!” chaewon’s voice is heard, followed by the sound of skin hitting skin–likely her hand slapping some part of your body–and a muffled yelp. “if you say things like that, people are going to misunderstand!”

“but unnie, you keep touchin’ me ‘n weird places.” the younger whines. “what else ‘m i s’pposed t’say?”

sakura, having given up, just slumped onto the floor, letting those watching the live see what was happening behind her.

chaewon was practically on top of you, shaking you back and forth by your shoulders. yunjin was snickering as she attempted to get the leader off of you with little to no success. eunchae was still laughing, her face red, and kazuha, at somepoint, had joined in on her laughter.

“ln yn!” chaewon screams, her cheeks reddening. “you’re an idol, for goodness sake, an idol! don’t say that kind of thing!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“‘where is yn?’”

“yn is currently preoccupied in the kitchen.” chaewon answered, eyeing something off screen. “both kazuha and eunchae are helping her which is why they aren’t here either.”

“they’re making cookies.” yunjin added, smiling. “erm, chocolate chip cookies, if i’m not–”

the sound of a door opening violently interrupts the american’s words, and the two girls on screen look to their left with surprised looks on their faces.

“chaewon’nie, the stove’s ‘n fire.” following your words is the high pitched beeping of what is undoubtedly the dorms fire alarms going off.

“what?!” chaewon stands up, with yunjin following suit. “what do you mean it’s on fire?!”

“‘s ‘n fire.”

yunjin, seemingly having remembered that the live was still going on, quickly ducked into view of the camera. “sorry, guys, we’ll be right back.”

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“ow, ow, fuck, ow–”

sakura, frowning, looked over to where you were presumably standing off screen. “ynnie, are you alright?”

she isn’t facing the camera, her head turned just enough so that those watching could tell she was worried by how tense her jaw was but not enough that they could see how her eyes had widened in alarm. you had cursed, after all, and in the middle of a live no less.

“m’fine, jus’ slammed the cabinet on m’finger.” you murmured, trudging into view with a hand wrapped tightly around your wounded finger. “it really hurt, ‘kura-unnie.”

oddly enough, you don’t seem all that worried about having potentially ruined your image as an idol by cursing. if anything, it seemed as though you hadn’t realized you had cursed aloud at all.

sakura, who is more than worried enough for the both of you, hums in response, absentmindedly checking your finger as she glanced at the live’s comment section. fortunately, it looked like no one was put out by your cursing, finding it more hilarious than upsetting.

“‘nnie, why’re they all laughin’? did somethin’ funny happen?”

“err… not exactly.”

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“unnie, wou’d you accept a kiss fro’me as a present?”

yunjin blinks, visibly stunned by your words. chaewon and sakura, both having realized just what you said, glance at the staff member standing behind the camera nervously. eunchae and kazuha, on the other hand, had quickly got over their shock and were giving you incredulous looks.

“oh my god-”

“…’s tha a yes or a no?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ln yn, just what do you think you are doing?”

you freeze, giving sakura a panicked look–to which she responds with an amused smile–before slowly turning around to face your angry leader. “erm, h’llo, chaewon’nie.”

“hand.”

behind you, you could faintly hear yunjin and eunchae whispering about how chaewon sounded like she was speaking to a dog, ordering for it to give her a paw or something.

chaewon, unamused by your lack of response, both verbally and physically, raised a brow. “yn.”

you sigh, reluctantly doing as the older girl ordered and give her your hand, where a long cut glared an angry red on your skin.

“ooh~ unnie is in trouble~” eunchae murmured, smiling innocently at you when you turned to glare at her.

“yn, how did you get this?”

“…erm, i accident’lly stabbed m’self with scissors?…”

yunjin chortled, enjoying the scene before her all too much. “cut, more like.”

“not helping, unnie.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“‘kura-unnie’s basically m’ sugar m’mmy.” you mumbled to the camera, eagerly showing off the brand new pair of sneakers you had gotten–been gifted–earlier that day. “see? she bought m’ the shoes i was lookin’ at the other day.”

eunchae, who had been quiet until this moment leans into view of the camera, snorted. “unnie, you call anyone who’s ever bought you anything your sugar mommy.”

“sug-ar mom-my?” kazuha repeated slowly, tilting her head as she turned to look at chaewon, who sighed and shook her head with a look of disappointment on her face.

noticing how irritated the leader looked, the ballerina wisely decided to stay quiet and mind her own business.

“‘m not wrong though.” you point out to the unimpressed girl. “‘kura-unnie ‘s really m’sugar m’mmy. she buys me s’much stuff…” you giggle sleepily, turning back to the camera. “th’nk you, ‘kura-unnie~”

at that, chaewon, probably having realized just how… weird the conversation has gotten, clicked her tongue, drawing both your and eunchae’s attention.

“should i tell her to stop buying you things then?” she asked rhetorically, an eyebrow raised. “after all, we can’t have an idol, much less a girl group idol, being called ‘sugar mommy’ by one of her members…”

panicked, you sit up. “s’rry ‘nnie, i’ll ask ‘em to cut it out, ‘kay? don’t tell ‘kura-unnie anythin’!”

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“to those who’re sayin’ that they wanna marry me…” you start absentmindedly, staring at the screen of your phone before raising your head to look at the camera. “‘you bein’ serious? ‘cause if you are…”

[ lsfms#1fan: yes. desperatehoe: YES?!!! reasonableperson: uh no r u not a minor??? desperatehoe#2: PLEASE BE MY GIRFLRIEDNHSJQBWBS ]

reading the more or less desperate comments your fans were making, you smile lazily, though it looks more like a smirk than anything else.

“if tha’s the case, then,” you continued, clearing your throat as you kept your eyes on the camera. “please sign a prenup agreement.” from the corner of your eye, you could see a variety of confused comments. “then, and only then, will i consider being married to you.”

masterlist.

[abbysbunny]

MODERN!ELLIE HCS

warnings: none! bit of cursing:)

word count: 0.6k

notes: hai guys:3 here's some ellie hc's! kinda proofread !!

-used an iphone 6 till it completely died and then she couldn't decide what phone to get because she didn't want to get a "fancy" one. you had to drag her to Mediaworld because she was basically refusing even though she hadn't used a phone in almost a week😭 (she'd been having to use your phone)

-has about a thousand hoodies and wears three of them, she buys them everytime she goes to the mall but then she uses the ones she bought when she was a teen. she doesn't even notice if you're wearing one of her hoodies because she didn't even know she had it

-she has a clear phone case and the only thing in it is a polaroid of you guys on your first date:') she hasn't changed it since that day

-still wears the same converse she's had for god knows how long, and when you asked her if she wants a new pair for her birthday she looked at you with the nastiest side eye ever. she couldn't even think about changing the pair

-has a private Instagram where only friends follow because she's scared of other people commenting on her post, like what if they say something mean? or what if they flirt with her? so she keeps it private and post a story maybe once a month

-even through she's not on Instagram that much she is always on tiktok, like you'll wake up at four in the morning for some water, turn over and her phone is inches away from her face the screen lighting up her face.

'ellie go to bed!' you mumbled as you got up and rubbed your eyes

'babe look at this borzoi' she tapped your arm and you rolled your eyes

-expending on her interest with borzois, after they become a meme she's just completely obsessed over them, if you're out with her and you see one you bet she's running up to it and awkwardly asking if she could pet it and then pets and plays with it for 5 straight minutes making you stand by her apologizing to the owner for her taking so long

-popeyes lover !!!! if you don't know what to have for dinner she'll order pop eyes (without) your permission, and suddenly the bell will ring and she's speeding down the stairs and running back up with a huge bag and the cutest smile on her face

-okay so if u have a fyp like mine then you know about mulch, so I think her fyp is full of mulch and lobotomy videos, and sometimes while your having a nice moment she'll say

'ugh I am so full of joy and sandy loam'

you'll look at her with the most judgemental look ever and lightly punch her shoulder

-loves I mean LOVES dried apples, will munch on them for hours !! she sneaks them into movie theaters and basically annoys everyone in the room because she's so fucking loud. also loves dr.pepper ! if you'd give her a bag of dried apples and a can of dr.pepper she'd be the happiest girl on earth

-can't cook for shit, like it's actually scary, somehow she'll burn everything she puts on the stove or in the over, she either puts the heat too high or just forgets she has something cooking at all. but will put the most amount of effort in a date night dinner !

-sometimes if you're lucky she'll get sappy and serious, like you'll lay down on her and fall asleep and she'll whisper something like 'I'm gonna marry you one day' then she realized what she said and cringed at herself

[astrolynnworld]

Can I have a Chris fluff where he lifts the readers bump?

baby bump

pairings: chris x reader

summary: your back has been killing your active pregnancy. chris does whatever he can to relive that ache

warnings: fluff, pregnancy, sad thoughts, reassurance, comfort, love

a/n: in this fic, you and chris are already married

word count: 662

it’s been almost 8 months since i found out that chris & i were having a baby girl.

i wanted to do the whole gender reveal theatrics but chris and i both agreed that we did not want to wait.

when we revealed the pregnancy to our family and friends, it was like endless masses of support.

everyone congratulated us, gave us money, sent gifts, and offered endless hours of help.

there are still gifts coming into this day.

although the pregnancy is starting to overwhelm me.

The cravings, the nausea, the headaches, and the pain that finds itself everywhere, especially my back.

it’s so hard for me to do the tasks that I once enjoyed.

I feel bad for chris because a once active wife had probably just become a burden to him.

I hated this thought, but I was left with no other choice when I would see Chris pick up everything that I used to do.

he was switched to start working at home so he could take care of me, our baby, and our home.

tonight I thought I would surprise him by making dinner to reward him for all his generosity and support with our new lifestyle that I was trying to adjusted too.

he had went to the store to go pick up a few items for the house that we have been needing, so i took this moment as an opportunity.

half an hour into cooking, my back starts to ache really badly. i decide to sit because i realize that i had been standing for a while

I take a five minute break, but this does not stop the ache.

I get back up to finish dinner since i had only had a few more steps left to complete in the recipe.

but, as im finishing up i hear keys start to unlock the door along with bags tussling as footsteps enter the house.

“babe?” chris calls out

“im in the kitchen” i respond

he follows the sound of my voice

“babe what are you doing? you’re supposed to be resting.” his voice says laced with concern

“i just wanted to surprise you with someone special. you’ve been doing a lot for me and i want to show you my gratitude” i say back in a soft tone

“baby.. you’re pregnant with our kid right now. do you really think you’re the one that needs to be showing gratitude to me?” he asks with a soft smirk

i smile at his rhetorical question

“i will never be able to show you enough gratitude for how much you mean to me and how lucky i am that you stick beside me everyday” he says while wrapping his hands around my back to give me a tight hug

i coo at the added pressure

“im sorry, did that hurt?” he asks with concern

“no, you’re fine. my back has just been aching all day.” i complain

“can i try something?” he asks

i nod my head yes with a bit of confusion.

he gently puts his hands under my belly and lifts its slowly.

the released pressure on my back and pelvis felt like heaven.

i drop my head on his shoulder as a sign of relief.

“i did not know about this relief tactic” i state with shock laced in my tone

“yeah. i did my research about the do’s and don’t’s with a pregnancy wife!” chris replies

i laugh at his humor

“i love you so much christopher.” i say as i lift my head up and look into his eyes

“i love you so much much y/n” he responds back.

he bends his head down to give me a kiss on the lips.

“now lets turn off this stove and get you into bed. you did enough for tonight.” he says while switching off the stove letting the, now cooked, food shimmer down.

he grabs my hand and guides me back to our bedroom.

———————————————————————

a/n: this was so cute to write, i loved it! hope you guys love as well

[ovaryacted]

Hold on. Hear me out.

Leon with the remote control vibrator inside HIM.

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

Now…you’re cooking here. Let me turn the stove on so I can let it simmer. Walk with me.

So, like having any conversation about sex, the use of toys would start with the approach of consideration. You two wanted to spice some things up in the bedroom, so you both get a few things to start, but the intention was for you to try them first, or for him to use them on you. In a few weeks, you’ve developed a collection of vibrators and dildos you like to use, either with him watching or when you are alone.

The new additions were fun and made the bedroom more enjoyable for both of you, but you started to see how Leon’s eyes grew more curious about the toys versus how you used them. It was as if he was learning your techniques, saving them in his memory for later. He was quickly developing a dirty secret, one that he didn’t want to indulge in just yet, but from knowing him well enough it didn’t take long to figure it out.

“You want to use one don’t you?”, you asked him one afternoon, the tips of his ears growing red as he pretended to deny the truth, but it was written all over his face.

“I’m just thinking is all. I see how using these things makes you feel, you always have fun and I’m not complaining. I kinda want to test it out myself, you know…for fun”, he shrugs to undermine his true desires, but you know enough to realize what he meant.

Clicking through your favorite sex toy website to search for toys that you think would be better suited for Leon, you stumbled upon a remote-controlled vibrating toy that could be inserted for prostate stimulation. It almost felt strange, to add the toy into your cart and type in your shipping information as you checked it out. But you waited anxiously for the discrete box to come into your mailbox, tearing it open and preparing to show it to the blonde when he got home.

He raised a brow the moment you showed it to him, desire settling in his gut and running through his body. In his mind, he had an idea of what to expect, knowing that it would be a new experience for him. He followed you into the bedroom with a certain smugness that you found charming, thinking he had the upper hand in how this was about to go down.

He wasn’t expecting this.

Laying down on the bed, Leon watched as you lazily sucked him off, eyes half closed and his mind blank. Inside him was the new toy you bought him, buzzing lowly and just enough to get him going. You’ve been relentless with your teasing, bringing him to the edge more times than he could count before lowering the toy’s intensity.

“You like this huh?”, you smirked at him, tongue going to lick at his balls and making him throw his head back with a loud groan. He shifted his hips upwards, desperate to have your mouth back on his tip where he was the most sensitive.

“Yeah…yeah…please baby”, Leon huffed, keeping his fingers on to the sides of his body and clutching the sheets below. He was delirious, surely he was close to losing his mind from everything he was feeling at one time. You grinned to yourself, licking up his twitching cock and clicking a button on the remote of the vibrator to take him off guard.

“Fuck!”, the man above you almost yelled out, his thighs shaking from the extra stimulation.

His eyes began to water, tears lining his lash line as you kept him pinned down to the bed with a hand on his leg. Leon started to mumble, gasping for air as he begged for mercy. You took it all in, seeing how easy it was for you to bend him at will and watch him fall apart under your touch. He was so close, needing just one more push before he finally got his release.

Only he never got it, the click of the remote lowered the sensation of the toy to the bare minimum, pulling an audible whine from Leon.

“Please…I can’t take anymore, I need to cum”, glassy blue eyes met your own, and you chuckled before giving him a soft kiss on his aching tip.

“You’ll cum when I say you can. Take what I give you, and I’ll give you what you want”, you ordered him, starting the cycle all over again until you felt he deserved more.

Leon’s curiosity will pay off in the end, now that playtime just got a whole lot more interesting.

[cuubism]

physical therapy, part 6.

--

Hob's been wavering on things like timeline with Dream because, well, he doesn't want to push, but he does obviously want more. There's a lot that he wants, and he thinks Dream wants it too. But Hob can be patient. Definitely. For sure. He's the epitome of patience.

In any case, after a few more dates which are oh so very patient, and in which Dream seems to be gradually coming more and more out of his shell, Hob finally takes the plunge and texts him:

If you want, come over to my place this weekend and I'll cook for you, and adds his address.

He paces nervously while waiting for a response. Dream coming over... he doesn't know how that would end. Well, it would hopefully at least end in Dream eating a proper meal, but other than that...

It's really not so long before he gets a response, though it feels like an eternity.

Okay, writes Dream, with a smile. 🙂 Should I bring anything?

Just yourself, writes Hob.

A shame, for I was planning to arrive incorporeally.

Hob smiles to himself at the comment. Dream is so much brighter once he decides he’s allowed to be.

On the agreed-upon date, Hob spends a truly excessive amount of time getting ready. He’s not even cooking anything elaborate, as he felt convinced he’d wind up fucking it up out of nerves if he did. But really, the quality of his food isn’t the wild card. What he’s nervous about is Dream’s response to being in his home. To being alone. Whether he’ll be okay with it. He doesn’t want to make Dream nervous.

But Dream arrives on time, and he’s smiling when Hob opens the door. He’s also carrying a huge canvas.

Oh!” Hob says, distracted from even kissing him hello. “What have you got there?”

“It is for you,” Dream says, and turns the canvas around so Hob can see it.

It’s a large painting of a rather clever-looking cat, bright colors and bold swathes of paint. It reminds Hob of Dream’s finger paintings, actually, but far more precise in technique. It’s lovely. It’s so cute. And much more playful than Dream’s older art, the pieces he had shown Hob from before his injury.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,”  he says, and Dream smiles shyly. “I take it your grip’s been feeling steadier, then?”

“Somewhat,” Dream says, following Hob deeper into the flat, as Hob takes the painting and sets it on top of a low bookshelf, propped against the wall. Later he’ll have to hang it up properly. “I am. Enjoying painting again. I think.”

It’s so good to hear. Each time Hob sees Dream he seems incrementally better. Less frozen. More outgoing. And it always makes Hob realize that he’s only gotten to see a fraction of the life that truly exists inside of him.

“I’m so glad to hear that, darling,” he says.

It hurts to think of the version of Dream that might have been there before being hurt. But Hob likes the Dream that he gets to know now.

He leads Dream into the kitchen and bids him to sit down at the table while Hob serves their food, which is staying warm on the stove. Normally, when he invites someone over, he’d offer them wine, but he doesn’t want Dream to get the wrong idea. God, he’s probably massively overthinking things. He’s being totally paranoid, he knows it. But it feels so important that it be right. He’d never forgive himself if he made Dream feel unsafe around him, even if it was by accident.

“I am curious what you’ve prepared to attempt to persuade me to change my habits,” Dream says, after taking a sip of the water Hob’s handed him.

“Something with a lot of butter,” Hob says, and Dream laughs softly. Dream needs it, though. He needs something that’ll stick to his bones.

What he has is tarragon chicken—fried in, truly, an excessive amount of butter—served over rice with string beans. If this can’t encourage Dream to eat real meals, nothing can.

And, gratifyingly, he’s right. Dream devours it, and has seconds. As he eats his own serving more sedately Hob wonders when the last time was that somebody actually cooked for him.

They barely even talk, but Hob doesn’t mind. He just wants Dream to eat.

“You can cook,” Dream says, and Hob laughs.

“Was that in question?”

A light blush graces Dream’s cheeks. “When you first mentioned cooking for me, I had the thought that you were a catch. For that reason among others.”

Hob can’t help himself from smiling—and perhaps blushing a bit, too. “I’ll have to keep it up, and maybe you’ll keep me.”

Dream looks down at his food, but murmurs, “I would like to.”

So Hob takes his hand on the table and squeezes it.

Later in the evening, when they’ve been ensconced on the couch for a while watching mindless telly, Dream’s head on his shoulder, Hob says, “You can stay over if you want. No expectations. Just don’t want you walking home in the dark.”

He’ll walk Dream home if that’s what he really wants, but it’s already midnight and it really might be easier to just stay put.

“Am I allowed to stay over in your bed?” Dream asks, and Hob’s pulse jumps.

“That’s what you want?”

Dream nods.

So, heart still beating hard, Hob says, “Alright. Come on, then.”

And Dream takes his hand as Hob draws him up.

He gets Dream situated with some of his pajamas, which are far too large on him, and with a spare toothbrush and so on, and when they’re finally ready he tries not to be too awkward or nervous as he climbs into bed and gestures Dream to follow, saying, “Come on, love.”

He expects Dream might hesitate, but he doesn’t, just crawls into bed after him and presses himself all up against Hob’s body, laying his head on Hob’s chest. And— God. He’s really decided that he trusts Hob. It puts a lump in Hob’s throat.

He feels like a fucking teenager again, stomach all fluttery just at the feeling of Dream lying against him. In past relationships, Hob had mostly jumped in sex-first, questions-later. But maybe there are more benefits to taking things slow than he thought. It makes every tiny thing feel monumental.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and Dream nods, hair brushing Hob’s chin.

“Yes, thank you.”

Hob pulls the blankets up over them, pets his hair. Dream lets out a long, happy sigh, and snuggles closer.

I’m going to keep you, Hob thinks. “Goodnight, Dream,” he says.

[elektramustdie]

dreams do come true

"Fuck, just like that."

It's the middle of the night when you begin to stir, a small ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable couch you and your roommate had fallen asleep on some hours ago, your eyes hesitantly and sleepily blinking open.

A soft glow of light from the television hardly illuminates the dark living room, a small yawn escaping your lips. A few incoherent mumbles continue to escape your best friend's lips, a slew of stifled moans and shifting limbs following them.

Peeking over your shoulder, you can barely make out the pale boy's features, his eyelids fluttered shut and lips slightly agape. "So good-“

"gerard?" You nudge his bare arm with your elbow, feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks at the quick realization he's having a far from innocent dream. You try again, with a bit more force, despite the exhaustion coursing through you from the lack of sleep. "Gee."

“Hm?" the black haired boy suddenly blinks awake, slightly panicked as he sits himself up, eyes hazy and distant. "What's wrong?"

You stifle a giggle at his wild hair and confused expression, his chest still heaving slightly from his startled state. "Nothing's wrong," you say, "You woke me up."

“Oh," a pink hue washes over him, swallowing a thick lump forming in his throat, blinking away the images left behind from his stupid little dream about his pretty roommate. "Sorry. Fuck, what time is it?"

"Uh," you crane your neck, narrowing your eyes to catch sight of the small digital clock on the stove not far from you. "Half past three."

"Shit," Gerard quietly hisses, shuffling underneath the knitted blanket covering you both, feeling a bit restricted in his jeans. With each blink of his eyes he can't stop picturing the sinful sight he'd been dreaming about. "Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," You dismiss him with the wave of your hand, backside still pressed against the boy's clothed thigh, thinking nothing of the position. A small smirk however twitches at your lips. "Dreaming about that girl again?" you tease, pushing your lips to the side.

Gerard shoots you a glare, clearly unamused by your attempt at a joke, though his heart skips a beat at the simple idea that you knew what type of dream was unfolding behind his eyelids. "No, lyn z’s annoying."

"I thought you said that eliza was annoying?" your brow quirks, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

"I said eliza’s obnoxious," he clarifies with a simple scoff, slinging his arm over the back of the couch, muscles flexing and catching your attention, "Why do you care anyway?"

Your breath hitches momentarily, affected unfamiliarly by the simple sight. You’ve seen Gerard shirtless a million times - hell, you've cuddled on this very couch on more than one occasion. Platonically, of course.

You ignore the blush on your cheeks and the small frustration bubbling in your stomach from his question, "I don't," you shrug, though he isn't convinced, "I'd just rather not be woken up by your stupid wet dreams."

Gerard’s eyes quickly widen, lips parting in slight shock at the confrontation, though he doesn't utter a single word to defend himself. You just offer a simple soft laugh before getting up from the couch, fetching the two of you a glass of water.

When you return, Gerard’s jeans impossibly tighten at your attire, your crooked little tank top and sleeping shorts, unknowingly bunched at the tops of your smooth tanned thighs. 

Never had Gerard looked at you, his best friend of nearly ten years in a sexual or romantic way, but the absence of a bra on your upper half and the little patch of exposed skin between the hemline of your tank top and waistline of your shorts has him on the brink of drooling.

"Hello, Earth to Gee," your hand waves in front of the boy's eyes, blinking out of his terrible, terrible thoughts to see you standing at the end of the couch, a glass of water in your palm. "You alright?"

A shaky hand reaches for the glass, nearly spilling the liquid all over his lap as he desperately brings it to his lips, chugging the contents in almost record time. Your brow raises curiously.

"You got that worked up over a dream?" You laugh softly, taking a seat beside him, legs criss-crossed while you sip on your own glass of water, no idea the effect you have on the pale boy at this moment. "Damn, Gee, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

"Shut up," he exhales loudly, placing the now empty glass on the side table, raking a hand over his face. God, why now? Why in the hell is he having inappropriate dreams about his best fucking friend? "Drop it." Gerard shoots you a stern glare, only fueling you further.

A mischievous smile appears on your lips, quickly disappearing as you compose yourself, feigning innocent curiosity. "Let me guess," you start softly, pretending to ponder, "Doggy? No, that wouldn't rile you up," you shake your head quickly, fingers tapping on the side of your glass, "Reverse cowgirl."

"Y/N." he mutters through gritted teeth, white knuckling the arm of the couch, fearful to glance at you. "Stop."

"What?" you giggle quietly, "Oh come on, don't go all innocent on me now," your eyes roll playfully, "Not like I haven't heard it all before."

"I'm serious," Gerard grumbles, trying to regulate his breaths but struggles, nearly full fucking mass in his jeans now. Thankfully the knitted blanket bunched in his lap prevents you from realizing how fucking turned on he is. "Cut it out."

Gerard chooses the wrong moment to glance at you, just as you’re leaning towards the opposite end of the couch to place your half empty glass on the other side table, giving the pale boy a perfect view of your backside. Fucking hell.

"You're no fun," you pout, turning back to him and meeting his darkened eyes, barely visible from the glow of the television. To this, your breath falters, noticing his tense demeanor. "What?"

"Go to bed." he suddenly says, not bothering to break eye contact between you two, watching as your tempting little lips part in genuine confusion. Had you pushed too far? Crossed a line?

"gee, I was just teasing-"

Gerard’s eyes narrow at you, almost menacingly, enough to make you choke down your words. "Y/N, if you're not in your bed in the next thirty seconds I'm going to do something we can never come back from."

To the boy’s surprise, you stay put. Not out of fear, or worry that you’ve done something wrong, but because you’re simply curious. Folding your hands in your lap, you remain silent, awaiting the boy's reaction with nervously pursed lips.

His hazel eyes flicker to those little fucking shorts, hardly covering you, and stifles a groan. "Come here," he says lowly, tongue tracing the inside of his lip. Hesitantly, you slowly crawl the short distance before sitting beside him on your knees. "God damnit, Y/N."

"What?" you ask, nearly a whisper, unaware of the effect you have on him. "Look, if I went too far I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

"Gerard-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N," gerard sighs frustratedly, tearing his eyes from yours, "Do you not get it?"

"Get what?" your fingers anxiously tap on the tops of your thighs, biting the inside of your cheek, filled with worry.

"My dream wasn't about lynz or fucking eliza," he scoffs, turning to face you again, his adam's apple bobbing slowly, 

"It was about you."

Your breath hitches. Are you still half asleep? Did Gerard really say-

"Me?" you whisper before quickly shaking your head, "Gee, that's not funny, okay? I don't know what game you're playing-"

Your words cease when a warm, calloused hand finds your thigh, gripping the soft skin firmly. "I'm not fucking with you," he tells you, "I don't know where the fuck it came from but those goddamn shorts of yours aren't helping right now."

Swallowing the thick lump of nerves in your throat, the words falling from your lips aren't remotely close to what Gerard could have ever predicted. "So do something about it."

"Oh fuck me," a low groan leaves gerard’s throat, tossing his head back momentarily, "Don't have to tell me twice."

And suddenly Gerard’s hand is on the back of your head, pulling you toward him forcefully to claim your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. You instantly melt into him, the taste of popcorn still lingering on his chapped lips from the bowl you’d shared hours ago.

Gerard doesn't hesitate to swipe his tongue along your lower lip, pushing your kiss deeper as you brace yourself by grasping at his shoulder, a soft moan escaping your lips, which Gerard is eager to swallow.

The boy’s unoccupied hand finds your hip easily, thumb firmly pressing against the bone there, his remaining fingers digging into the fabric of your pathetic excuse for shorts. Your hips instinctively roll at the contact.

Gerard regretfully pulling away, both of you adorning swollen, pink lips and flushed cheeks, even in the low light of the television it was quite obvious. "Fuck, you have no idea-"

"Me too," you cut him off in a whisper, eyes flickering between his and his intoxicating lips. "Gee-"

"Fuck, what've we done?" he mumbles more so to himself, though he doesn't retract his hands and you don’t bother to tell him to. "Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

"Just shut up," you shake your head, free hand grasping at the chain looped around his bare neck and pulling him forward, claiming his lips just as he had done to yours previously. He doesn't protest when you sling a leg over his lap, thighs settled on either side of his, eliciting a deep groan from his throat.

When your lips part, his eyes hesitantly flicker between yours and your new position, your hips flush against his own. "Are you- are you sure?"

You shyly nod. A groan of disapproval leaves Gerard’s lips, his grip tightening on the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair, pulling you closer to him as if your chests hadn't been brushing the entire time. "Yeah, silence doesn't work for me, baby"

"Yes," you breathe out, clenching your thighs desperately, "Yes, I'm so fucking sure, Gee. Please-"

"Fuck," he grits out, hips bucking against your center, "So fuckin' needy for me, aren't you?" When your eyes widen at his words, Gerard’s lips twitch into a sly, crooked smirk, filled to the brim with satisfaction. He tugs the strands between his fingers again. "Aren't you?"

"Yes- fuck."

The hand not grasping your hair retreats to your upper thigh, thumb resting in the crease there, fingernails digging into your soft skin and forcing his clothed length against your sensitive center. "Feel that, sweetheart?" Gerard’s tone lowers, fighting the urge to moan at the feeling alone, as he breaths low and slow against your lips, taunting you, "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

“Please," you helplessly whimper in response, eyelids tempting to flutter shut at the simple feeling, Gerard’s cock twitching in the confinement of his jeans at your sinful little plea. Never in his life had he imagined a scenario with you like this becoming a reality.

Gerard quickly taps your thigh so you’ll raise yourself, allowing him to kick off the thin knitted blanket on his lap, exposing the outline of his achingly hard length in his fitted jeans, the boy’s jaw tensed so hard his teeth begin to ache. He can't fucking begin to imagine how good you’re going to feel wrapped around him.

His ringed fingers fumble with the button and fly of his dark jeans, too fucking anxious to finally set his cock free. He leaves them pooled around his knees carelessly, his fitted black boxers following suit. A soft hiss leaves Gerard’s lips at the release. You, however, are at a loss for words.

"You-" you breathlessly choke out, unable to look away from his length, eyes widened and suddenly feeling a stir in your stomach. "There's no fucking way, Gee-"

“What, am I too big for you?" Gerard teases in a low tone, a sickening little smirk on his lips, head cocked to the side. "You don't think you can handle it?"

As you’re shaking your head and finally tearing your eyes away, you meet his gaze, hesitant. "I- I don't know-"

He lets out a low, sinister chuckle before his hands are on your hips again, pulling your clothed center flush with his exposed length, ghosting his lips against yours. "Too fuckin' bad, sweetheart, you're gonna take it and I don't wanna hear a single fucking complaint."

A low, drawn out whimper escapes your poor lips, swallowing your nerves while

Gerard continues to jut his hips. "Yes, sir." the words fall from your mouth before you can even process them.

"Ah, what a good girl, hm?" the boy hums against your lips, "Gonna fuck you so good, dollface I promise."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir."

"Goddamn," he pulls away slightly, so fucking hard he's nearly on the brink of orgasm from the simple word alone, ringed fingers retracting from your hip to the thin, stretchy material of your shorts, sliding between your thigh and the fabric until his forefinger finds the dampened material of your underwear. "You want me that fucking bad? Hm? Had to go and get this fucking wet for me?"

"Gerard-"

"Fucking pathetic," he scoffs, sending a shock straight to your spine as he slowly teases his finger against you, pressing firmly against your clit like some fucking expert. "Can't wait to watch you sink down on my cock."

You’re already a fucking mess and he's barely touched you, fingers grasping at the thin underwear and sliding them to the side, Gerard’s free hand preparing himself and pressing his tip against you. "So fuckin' wet, don't need nothin' else."

You suck in a deep, loud breath as Gerard begins to push inside, giving you no mercy as his hands find your hips yet again and force you down his entire length, your hands grasping desperately onto his broad shoulders. "Fuck-" you cry out, eyes pinching shut at the sudden stretch. "Oh my-"

"S'okay baby," he coos softly, thumbs pressing firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving bruises there you'll find in the morning."M'gonna take good care of you."

Your fingernails absentmindedly dig into his pale skin, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes. You’d never felt so full.

"Please, Gee-" your throat suddenly runs dry, eyes flying open as he uses the grip on your hips to pull your body upwards, forcing your back down onto his length roughly. "Fuck-"

"Quiet," he interjects curtly, "Want you to take my fucking cock the way I give it to you. Cry all you want, sweet girl”

The pain of the stretch doesn't last long, thankfully, though each rough thrust of Gerard’s hips has your vision blurring, the sound of his thighs smacking against the back of yours bouncing off the walls of your quiet shared apartment.

You adjust to the boy’s deep, rough rhythm, the fabric of your flimsy little tank top settling just below your breasts, catching Gerard’s eye. Managing to continue his pace, his teeth capturing this bottom lip, one of his hands slides the fabric further until they're both exposed to him.

“Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts softly, wetting his bottom lip due to the tempting fucking sight of you sinking down on his cock like the good fucking girl you are. He cups one of them, a whimper leaving your mouth amidst mumbled curses. "You feel so fucking good on my cock."

"Gerard-“

"Say it, baby. Fucking say it."

"Sir, please-"

"Fuck," he grits his teeth for the millionth time, the word never growing old as it reaches his ears, before he's suddenly halting, pressing his hips firmly against you until you’re nearly out of breath. So goddamn deep.

It takes less than a second before he's pushing you onto your back, still connected and instead of grasping your hips his hands find your knees, pressing your thighs flush against your chest.

Gerard sucks in a quick breath, standing on his knees as his jeans are still pooled around them, restricting him slightly but he simply doesn't give a fuck right now. Slowly retracting his cock, he keeps his eyes on your pretty little lips as he pushes his hips forward suddenly, hitting an entirely new spot and causing a borderline scream to leave your mouth.

“Fuck-" you gasp, lips parting. thighs already shuddering from one fucking thrust. This only heightens the boy’s satisfaction, ignoring the small beads of sweat that begin to accumulate on his forehead. "Oh my fucking god-"

"Fuckin' told you," Gerard grunts, a white knuckle grip on your knees, preventing any pushback you attempted to give as your thighs shake beneath his hold, "Told you I'd fuckin' ruin you, didn't I?"

"Y-yes-"

"That feel good, sweetheart?" he rasps, throat nearly raw from the groans and moans he continues to stifle, "Feelin' me so goddamn deep inside of you?"

“Gee, please- so- so deep-"

"Yeah, baby," instead of gripping both of your knees, Gerard decides to rest his forearm against them to keep you in place, snaking his free hand between your thighs, attaching his thumb to your sensitive clit, a desperate little whimper leaving you. "You're doin' such a good job, takin' me so well."

You instinctively clench around him, causing a hiss to leave his lips, eyelids falling shut at the overstimulation. "I'm- oh fuck-"

“That's it," he responds lowly, not slowing down his harsh, deep thrusts, rendering you nearly breathless. "Come on, fuckin' cum all over my cock."

"Sir- I-"

“Fuck," Gerard grunts, continuing his quick firm movements against your swollen, sensitive clit, as you clench harder and harder around his cock. "Good fucking God, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

"Please, please cum with me-" you ramble helplessly, eyes flying open and meeting Gerard’s darkened eyes, his breaths growing ragged and chest so fucking tight from the sight of desperation on your face. "Please."

Gerard’s thrusts grow sloppily, orgasm building quickly. lower lip tucked between his teeth. One last particularly deep thrust, hitting that goddamn special little spot has you gasping for breath. Feeling your release coat his length, he finally lets go, hips stuttering to a slow pace, eventually stopping all together.

Both of you adorn heaving chests as the sound of your breaths echo the living room, both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Y/N-"

"Holy shit, Gerard," You manage to choke out, every goddamn inch of your body now sore, choking back a whimper as the blonde slowly slips out of you. "I didn't- fuck."

"Didn't what?" Gerard asks, just as breathless, knees reddened from the friction against the sofa, tugging his boxers up his thighs and tucking himself inside of them. "Are you okay?"

"There's no goddamn way we can ever be friends," You slowly slink your knees down, feet flat on the couch's cushion. Gerard’s lips pull into a frown at your words, about to interject before a little laugh escapes you. "Not if you fuck like that."

Gerard playfully smacks your thigh, "You fuckin' scared me, Y/N, don't do that," he leans forward to hover over you, eyeing the snide little grin on your pretty lips. "Come on, if you shower with me I'll reward you for bein' so good."

Your dazed eyes blink slowly, watching Gerard smile admiringly down at you. You both know there's no coming back from this, no way you’ll ever be just friends again.

And you don't mind one bit.

"The only way I'm showering with you is if you carry me, I'm fucking wrecked."

"I think that can be arranged."

[kechiwrites]

decided to break it

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 4/?

synopsis: babies change everything, and neither you, nor simon handle change very well at all.

wc: 2.2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt with no comfort, language, break up fic, abandonment issues, no gendered language, discussions and depictions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: im back <3, more tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if i feel up to formatting on this hell site. for kitten, shia, nori, 👩🏿‍🍼 anon, and everyone else who cheered me up when i felt super down post-holidays

new to baby blue? start here.

"Fuck." You murmur, maybe for the fourth time since the 15 minute timer had gone off on your phone. The word doesn’t seem heavy enough to sum up how you’re feeling, but you give it a few more tries anyway, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word 'pregnant', however, is the heaviest you’ve ever seen, latching onto your limbs and skin and dragging you to the floor beneath you. ‘Pregnant’ stares you in the face from the stick in your shaking hands, punctuated with a little smiley face you can barely see through tears. In the back of your mind you kind of wished you'd gotten the kind with the little ambiguous pink lines, just so you could pretend you didn't understand what two lines instead of one meant. Just for a little bit. Alas, the pharmacist recommended the slightly more expensive test, the kind that gives you a week estimate. The kind that tells you you've been fucked for 3-4 weeks now.

Every emotion you'd been feeling up until then cedes to white hot panic. It's hard to breathe in your little blue bathroom.

You wonder what he'll say. 

No. 

You dread what he’ll say. 

It’s nothing you two have ever talked about, not in the cold blackness of night, when he’d sat in your arms with his face bare to you and murmured every gory detail of his upbringing to you and not a goddamn therapist. Not the following morning when you’d sobbed your terror of the future, and losing everything you had into his lap. And certainly not when you had mutually decided you were “getting serious”.

And now you have to. You have to tell Simon you’re pregnant.

There's a pit in your stomach when he comes by that night, mask off and eyes warm, considering like they always are. You get swept up in how it feels to be near him, to have him crowd into your space, soaking your senses in his scent, his warmth. He kisses you gently, so soft it makes you want to cry. He used to say he wasn't capable of being like that. Not with you. Not with anyone. 

Instead of sobbing into his chest like you’re desperate to, you chide him about wearing his boots in the house. You take the time he needs to unlace them to memorize what being with him feels like in this moment, the last time things will be easy. 

He levers up and nudges his boots over to yours, where they sit side by side. Tears choke your voice again, and you’re praying it’s just a pregnancy thing rather than a ‘you being an unstable wreck’ thing.

“Sit.” You turn to the kitchen, setting your kettle on the stove and turning the knob to high. He hunkers down on the worn cream leather of your couch. You linger in front of your stovetop as long as you can, fussing with the mug Simon uses almost always, an ugly misshapen pink thing you’d made at a beginner ceramics class four years ago. It’s chipped at the lip, rose coloured glaze cracked, exposing the beige clay underneath it. Your hand glances over boxes of tea, back and forth over colourful labels that may as well be written in gibberish for all the luck you're having reading them. 

It feels like there's no air in the room, like the secret under your t-shirt is taking it all, vacuum sealing your room until your chest burns and your head feels like it's going to pop. You tear open a brand new box of earl grey, stuffing it back onto your shelf when the tea bag is sat securely in the cup. 

"What's wrong?” He grouses from the couch, and it’s only then that you realize your shoulders are hunched up around your ears. 

“I..” your stomach rolls and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. You can hear him stir in his seat behind you, shifting forward so he can peer at you from your living room. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and oh god, maybe you actually will throw up, it’s too early for morning sickness right? Unless the stupid tests were wrong and now you’re going to cover your countertops in the stew you had for lun-

“Hey.” Simon is standing behind you now, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you lightly until you whip around to face him. The kettle is screaming now, filling your home with that shrill, high shriek of steam from the boiling water whistling through the appliance's tiny spout. 

Somehow it’s still quieter than your pulse pounding in your ear.

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out, if only to stop yourself from retching over Simon’s socked feet. God, it’s like time stops, then it splits and cracks in clean halves. Into before and after he knew. Before and after his concerned expression crumbled into disbelief, before and after he schooled that disbelief into placid nothingness. And it’s not like you’d entertained the delusion that he’d be happy about it. But the silent hang time before he reacts is this terrible, hollow, unknown that tears up your insides and relishes in the shiny, red viscera. 

A gruff, quiet "Are you sure?" is what you get from him, when he finally recovers, and you try so hard not to let it bother you. It's a shock. A surprise. A loud bang in the middle of a serene night, a cannon going off in your face, a gunshot into the sky when you thought the race was an hour from starting. 

You try to give him a bit of grace. Still, the pit in your stomach grows.

Now it's a bit of a sinkhole.

"Baby, I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't sure." You move to snag your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to tug him close so you can hold each other, support each other, but he take a small step backwards, letting his palms slip from your shoulders. 

The sinkhole is a cavern, yawning wide, open and empty. 

You toss your hope and love inside.

“I need…some time.” He mutters, slinking out of your space, out of the kitchen and back into your entryway. 

'Time to fucking what?' you think, but hold back. You know Simon. You love Simon. And you remember where he's come from. What he's come from. You realize a second too late you should be following him, and when you stumble over the kitchen threshold, he’s tying up his boots, his broad back facing you. You try to peer around him, try to get a look at his face, desperate to gauge where he’s at. But when you notice he’s knocked your shoes over in his scramble to get away, to be anywhere but here, you stop moving..

“Y-yeah. Okay. Just..uh, get back to me soon okay?” you stutter, and wrap your arms around yourself, like you know Simon won't. Not with the way his hands are shaking. 

He doesn’t even respond this time. 

The soldier just stands. He opens your front door. And walks out. Leaving you in your entryway. Water past its boiling point in the kettle.

You don’t see him again until you’re four, nearly five months along, the bump under your clothes now impossible to hide. When you stumble into your home, exhausted from working, he’s in your living room. Sitting there in his mask at your tiny dining room table. Like no time has passed at all. Like he should be there. You realize you never did get your spare house key back.

“Get out.” you spit, blood boiling under your skin. 

"I know you're upset-" He begins, like he’s about to deliver a practiced speech.

"Get the fuck out!" Your tone is caustic, and you hope it burns him, hope it strips off all the facade on the rotting structure he is underneath.

"I never meant to leave it so long. This." He won't even say it. Can't even refer to you, let alone your baby. He stands up and becomes this big, dark mass in the bright space of your living room, black mask, black shirt, black boots, just a huge black hole that sucks up every good feeling you’d had in his absence, every ray of light that’d shone through the dark gloom he’d left behind. Nothing escapes his pull. 

He peers at you from the gap in his mask. The stark white skull stretched over his face mocks you, maliciously whispers in your ear; ‘Did you think you knew him? That he was honest with you? Open to you?’

And you had. You did. You thought you were making progress, building some semblance of a future, falling in love.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of it.

"You want to apologize, take the fucking mask off Simon." Your voice breaks, and part of you hopes he hears it for the plea it is. Hopes he understands what you’re asking of him. Hopes he feels how bad you missed him, under the hurt and pain and bitter, bitter loneliness. If he would just take it off, just pull the stupid fabric over his face and show you he was still yours under there, that he’d make a mistake and he’s ready now, then maybe the two of you could fix it. This.

Instead, his silence, his stillness cracks open your ribcage and pours black ink over your heart.

Humiliation and anger simmer on your tongue. What comes next is shockingly easy. "Oh you can't do it, huh? Can't be a fucking person with me, huh?" You shove at his chest, and he takes it, staring at you with pain in his eyes. Like this is hurting him.

"I shouldn't have waited so long, but I-" he steps towards you and it feels so good to rip away from his touch. To step back from his advance.

"No!” You shout, and your face is so hot, skin ablaze with righteous anger. “Shut up! Three months? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

And yes, one month of that was deployment, you’d known that, you’d talked about it, together. One month of no contact. One month of sand and heat and blood. But the other two months had been that white hot panic you'd felt on your own, in that tiny bathroom with the peeling blue wallpaper he'd promised he'd help you strip and replace. The other months had been missed calls, and ignored texts and you getting bigger under your sweaters because unlike him, you couldn't just take a break from the situation.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You shove past him, deeper into your home, spinning around so he’s closer to your entryway than you are. “Don’t you ever show your face here again, do you hear me?” You’re screaming now, much to Ghost’s visible discomfort. Good. You hope your nosy ass neighbours call the cops. You hope they physically remove his pathetic ass. You hope they embarrass him. (It isn’t very likely, of course. But God, could you dream).

“You can't just keep it from me.” He steps closer and you lament that he has you on the backfoot. It’s your space, your home and yet it feels as though you’re the one who’s out of place, off kilter and uncomfortable. You glare at him. 

“It’s mine too.”

‘It’ he says, and that bothers you. Irks you. Him calling your baby an ‘it’. 

“Give me a fucking break, it wasn’t yours when you left me, you couldn’t wait to get your sorry ass out of here when I told you. Now you wanna play daddy? I don’t fucking think so.” You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms, leaving aching crescents in their wake. 

“And you know what? Maybe it’s my fault for wanting to be with someone who is so fundamentally fucking broken that he couldn’t fucking bear to show me his goddamn face until I’d begged him. Maybe I’m the idiot for thinking you could ever be capable of love, of decency. I needed you. And you abandoned me, Simon. You are a fucking monster.” 

The word hangs in the air, hovering between the two of you where it can’t be taken back, and it sure as hell can’t be forgotten.

“You are good at distancing yourself, you are good at killing your feelings. Keep doing that. Stay the fuck away from me and my kid.” You’re panting when you finish, and everything hurts, one of your hands is bleeding, your eyelids prickle with the pain of unshed tears, your throat feels strained and tight. He nods once, jerky and quick, before he takes an unbalanced step back. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s looking for something, anything other than hurt and hatred.

But there’s nothing else to find.

He turns, opening your front door and trudging out, heavy footfalls bracketing short moments of gut wrenching silence. It feels final. But it doesn’t feel good. Not like you thought it might.

He’s halfway into his SUV when you scramble out your front door, shouting over your porch railing to him in your driveway. “And get rid of my fucking keys!” He stares at you, standing stockstill, before he gets in the driver’s seat and pulls away.

whew, nice to post ghosty-poo again

series masterlist here

support city girls, reblog what u like

[ot9snumber1]

sub!momo bratting with mistress!sana then acting all innocent and nice with mommy!mina so that she doesn’t get punished.

however, mina had been watching on the security cameras in the house and her and sana take turns using momo 😵‍💫

i blushed like fr woah... ceo!mina and lawyer!sana btw but its not that important

"momo, i'm working." sana scolded, swatting momo's hand away from her thigh.

momo frowned. sana wasn't even doing anything! she was just reading a bunch of papers with words momo didn't care about. "but i'm bored, sana!"

sana raises her eyebrow, setting the paperwork down on her lap and looking at momo. "mind repeating that?" she asks, teeth gritted.

momo's eyes flickered with fear at first, but she realized the silver lining to this situation. if there was one thing sana prioritized over defending her clients, it was making sure momo stayed obedient to her and mina at all times.

"i said, i'm bored, sana." she repeats, a smirk gracing her face.

sana sighs. if she indulged her this one time, she'd stay put for the rest of the day. "on your knees, now." she says, setting her paperwork on the coffee table and putting her glasses on top of her head.

momo smiles excitedly, returning to her obedient self and doing as her mistress says.

sana smiled. she didn't like when momo would be a brat for attention, but her heart could never resist giving in to the poor girl. (plus, the punishment would be more fun with mina around later.)

—

momo was sitting by the counter, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone while snacking on some nuts while sana prepared dinner.

the doorbell ringing brings momo back to reality, perking up instantly because it meant mina was home. she looks at her mistress expectantly. sana turns to look at momo, smiling fondly when she sees the girl looking at her like that. "you get the door, baby. i gotta watch the tteokbokki."

momo nods, immediately getting up and running to the front door.

"looks like someone missed me." mina smiled, kissing momo's forehead as the older girl hugged her. sure, she could've used her keys to get in, but being greeted by one of her girlfriends was better than just walking in.

"'course i missed you. you were gone for too long, mommy." momo pouts, still clinging onto mina as she took her tie and blazer off. "really now? but didn't i give you a treat before i left?"

sana chuckles when she hears momo's whines get louder, no doubt mina had to drag her to get all the way to the kitchen. she lowers the stove heat before walking over to her girlfriends to give mina a kiss.

"how was work?" she asks, petting momo's head.

"uneventful, i had tzuyu take care of my meetings."

"really? i thought the proposal from park was important."

mina smiles devilishly, her hand running through momo's hair. "well, i was planning to be productive today. but something on our cameras caught my eye."

momo stiffens. surely, she couldn't have seen her act of rebellion against sana earlier, right?

sana pokes her tongue against the inside of her cheek, smiling. "oh, right. i thought i saw something unusual, too. didn't you, baby?" she coos, scratching momo's head lightly as the girl seemed to shrink in mina's embrace.

—

momo yelped when mina landed another slap to her ass. she was sniffling, even as mina rubbed her skin to soothe the pain ever so slightly. "what's the count, sweetheart?"

sana simply watched the show, finishing her serving of tteokbokki as mina further bent momo over her knees.

"n—nine?" she whispers, wiping her nose. mina brings her hand up again, giving momo another hard slap. she winces in pain, a loud groan escaping her lips. "be confident in your answer, sweetheart. mommy doesn't like when you don't know what you're saying."

"sorry." she mutters, "ten, mommy." momo quickly follows, eager to prove that she learned her lesson. "good." mina says, leaning down to press a kiss to her back.

momo was about to stand up before mina started dragging her fingers along her folds. "hm? did i say you could move, sweetheart?" mina raises her eyebrow, her fingers still moving up and down at a steady pace.

"no, sorry. i thought—"

"you thought i was done? oh, honey, sana and i aren't stopping until we know you've learned your lesson."

[buffyromanoff]

''Let it out''

Inspired by the Taylor Swift lyric ''you drew stars around my scars but now im bleeding'' submitted by anon and @wifeofnatasharomanoff.

Summary: After being gone on a months-long mission, Natasha needs your support...but she doesn't realize it till its too late.

Warnings: Ptsd related panic attack.

Genre: Slight angst, fluffy comfort

Word count: 1.3k

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

‘‘Y/n, may I speak with you privately?’’ Nick Fury asked as you were about to leave after a meeting.

‘‘Uh, yes, of course, boss. What is it?’’ you replied.

‘Why don't you have a seat, Agent?’ Fury gestured towards a chair.

The look on his face gave it away. It was about Natasha.

‘Is she okay?’ Your voice trembled as you fought back your tears that were ready to come out.

‘Physically, she is fine, but... she's going to need you.’ Nick slid a leave document across the table. ‘I just need you to sign this, and then you're free to go home.’

‘Where is she? What the hell happened?!’ You demanded answers. Fury was always so secretive.

‘We'll be bringing her home to you as soon as you get there.’

And so you did. Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, you drove home and waited for them to bring your girlfriend back to you.

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

The past few days had been bittersweet. You were thrilled to have Nat back home with you after her months-long mission with the rest of the team, but it weighed on you to see her suffering.

Natasha was a private person when it came to her trauma. It wasn't because she didn't trust you, but rather she didn't want to burden you with her struggles. Since her return, she had managed to hide it well. After that conversation with Fury, you expected her to be shattered and completely broken…except she wasn't, at least not for the first few days.

You could say Nat was an amazing actress, but you noticed her mask was starting to fade away.

‘Wow, that smells good,’ Nat said as she entered the kitchen.

‘It does, doesn't it? I hope it tastes as good as it smells, though,’ you giggled.

‘I'm sure it will, malyshka.’ She gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and sat on the counter with her book.

"We have perfectly good sofas and chairs in case you didn't know’’ you teased with sarcasm.

‘Meh, I prefer to sit here.’ Her cat, Liho, jumped on the counter with her. ‘Up here, I have a pretty good view of the sexy chef.’ She whispered teasingly, causing you to blush.

Liho started jumping around the kitchen counters, making a mess.

‘Nat, please control your cat before he jumps on the stove and burns his whiskers off.’

‘Hey, come here, little one,’ she called, but it was useless. Liho was in a playful mood and he was not taking orders from anyone.

The cat ran behind a pile of pots and pans, causing them to slide off the counter and crash onto the floor, creating a loud noise that made your heart skip a beat.

‘Jesus Christ, that scared me so bad, Liho, you little...’ You turned around, laughing, only to find your girlfriend standing in the corner, hyperventilating.

‘Nat?’ You reached out your arm, but she pushed you away.

‘Baby, it's me. It's okay, you're safe.’ Your voice shifted into a comforting tone, allowing her to keep her distance. She wasn't looking at you.

‘Try to take a deeeeep breath, baby.’

Natasha struggled to breathe, her hand clutching her chest. You took a deep breath yourself, hoping she would follow along. ‘And then you let it out slowly.’

Your girlfriend raised her eyes to you and tried to do as you said.

‘‘There you go, that's good, honey. Keep going.’’ Natasha's eyes were watering, but her breathing was starting to return to normal.

‘’Can I come closer?’’ You asked, and she nodded.

As soon as you got close, she grabbed your arm tightly.

‘I'm here, Natty. You're okay. You're having a panic attack.’ 

She couldn't speak yet, but you could see the relief in her eyes that you were there with her.

You held her close, gently rubbing circles on her back, feeling her body tremble less and less. ‘Do you recognize my perfume? It's the one you got me. I wear it every day.’

It was working. Making her focus on her senses was grounding her back to normal.

And then something happened: Natasha started sobbing in front of you for the first time.

Your heart sank as you held her even closer. She was falling apart, and you were the only thing she could rely on.

‘Don’t hold back, honey. Let it out.’ And she did until she ran out of tears.

Showers were her safe place. She always took her time with them, as the warm water usually helped her muscles relax after a battle. It was a calming and soothing experience for her.

You helped Nat undress, and what you saw broke your heart. Her body was covered in dark bruises and scratches. You had no idea how this woman was able to move around like nothing had happened while hiding both the physical and psychological pain. But that's Natasha, strong inside and out.

You sat on the toilet seat while she showered, until you heard the water turn off and she opened the shower curtain.

You wrapped her in a towel and gave her a soft kiss on her cheek.

‘Thank you, Y/n,’ she mumbled, giving you a sad smile.

Back in the bedroom, Natasha was feeling better. She sipped tea from her favorite mug, wearing your pink Hello Kitty pajama pants. She looked adorable. You sat on the bed next to her, playing with her hair and stealing little kisses whenever you could.

Suddenly, her stomach growled and you both looked at each other. She laughed.

‘Hungry, baby?’ You teased.

‘I wonder what gave it away…’’. Her sarcastic response made you sigh in relief. She was definitely feeling better.

You both ate the reheated dinner, and since it had gotten quite late for a movie, you went straight to bed.

Her head rested on your chest and you held her as close as possible.

‘Sorry about all this, malyshka,’ she said. ‘You shouldn't be dealing with this.’

‘Nat-’

‘I mean it,’ she interrupted. ‘I wish I wasn't so broken.’

‘You're not broken, Nat. You're just going through a rough patch’’ you replied.

‘Seems like my life has just been a long, messed-up road, then’’ She mumbled while snuggling closer to your chest.

‘Have you heard of kintsugi?’’. Your question caught her by surprise, and she responded with a vague ‘hmm?’.

‘It's a Japanese art form in which they repair broken pottery by filling the cracks with gold lacquer. They don't hide the cracks; they display them openly, creating something new and beautiful. It teaches us to embrace flaws and find beauty in the process of healing, you know?’

Natasha started giggling.

‘What's so funny?’ You asked, confused.

‘Nothing, I just didn't know I was dating such a poetic soul,’ she teased.

‘Oh, fuck off,’ you laughed and she stole a kiss from you.

‘You're magical, Y/n. Did you know that? I don't know what I would do without you,’ Nat said.

‘Guess you'll never find out because you're never going to get rid of me.’

‘Lucky me,’ Natasha said, wrapping her leg over your body.

‘But seriously, you don't have to hide your feelings from me. I love you with all my heart, Nat. I'm always going to be here for you, no matter how bad things get’’. You reassured her.

‘Thank you, my darling. I love you too.’

‘To the moon?’ You asked, raising your eyebrow.

And smiling, Nat replied. ‘‘And to Saturn,’

[angelbaby-fics]

Winter Wonderland

Pairing: Daddy!Lee Bodecker x Little!Reader

Word Count: 850

A/N: In my drafts, this was originally titled "Lee's Country Christmas", but I realized the fic itself doesn't actually have much to do with Christmas but rather winter... so I wanted to save the title for another one perhaps 🤔 hehe y'all know I'm always soft for that big soft sheriff daddy hehehe 💕

Lee made sure you were bundled up tight, ever the protective caregiver. He didn’t care about most people, not long ago he didn’t even care about himself, but he’d burn the world down just to keep you warm. You were practically immobilized by the amount of shirts and coats and stockings and scarves wrapped around you as you braced to face the snow. Your knees could hardly bend as you waddled out into the winter wonderland outside your shabby little home. Lee followed, leather sheriff’s jacket zipped up to his chin, his cheeks flushed red in the cold. 

Normally, Lee would have no interest in even leaving his bed on a day like this. Before you, he’d have stayed in bed all afternoon, rousing only for a cup of coffee with a little kick in it to keep him warm. But how could he ever say no to your big eyes and excited voice when you woke up to the snowfall outside? Even though he’d tried to pull the covers up over his head as you bounced on the mattress next to him, Lee found your smile even warmer than his bed, now the outdoors didn't seem so cold. 

When you plopped onto your bottom down in the middle of the yard, Lee got worried. He ran over to you, flailing in the snow, but as he got closer he found what he’d thought were distressed cries were in fact giggles of joy. You were making a snow angel, or at least trying to, as your excitement got the better of you and it turned into more of a snow-mess. He still praised your hard work, to Sheriff Bodecker it was the prettiest angel he’d ever seen. You were his little angel, after all.

Lee had opted not to make a snow angel, deciding he’d rather keep his clothes dry. Not on your watch! Didn’t he know you couldn’t have a proper snow day without a snowball fight? You waited until his back was turned, a rare opportunity since gazing at his babydoll was a favorite pastime of the sheriff’s. A bright red cardinal perched on the bare branches of the big oak tree, and Lee couldn’t take his eyes away as it preened its crimson feathers. That’s when you got him. 

The snowball smacked against Lee’s back and exploded into a burst of white. The sudden disruption nearly knocked him off his feet and sent flecks of ice down his collar. Scowling, he whipped around, ready to tell off whatever neighborhood menace was trying to start war, but his expression softened when he saw you giggling behind mittened hands. Shaking his head, he bent down to scoop up a ball of softly packed retaliation. Careful not to hurt you, even the slightest bit, even on accident, he chased you through the yard until he was close enough to splat the snowball right on your little woolen hat. Then, he picked you up and spun you around, his eyes not leaving yours as he set you back down in the snow. The tip of his nose was bright red.

“Angel, I’m gonna go inside and work on supper. You wanna play for a few more minutes?”

You nodded eagerly and went to busy yourself in an extra snowy patch of yard while Lee headed inside. He could still see you through the kitchen window as he turned the stove on under a saucepan. He didn’t consider himself a particularly smart man, but he knew that winter days went perfectly with hot soup. It wasn’t much, a couple cans of store-bought chicken noodle on the stove, but he added extra salt and a pinch of paprika, and when he ladeled it into two bowls, he put a sprig of rosemary on top to make it more special. He set the table, a big bowl and spoon for him and little ones for you, then opened the front door to call you back in. 

Lee caught you as you barrelled through the doorway, saving the house from a barrage of wet footprints. He freed you from your coats as you pulled yourself out of your boots. Now in just your dry underclothes and stockings, your daddy picked you up and carried you over to your highchair at the dining table, strapping you in before he took his own seat. He fed you first, taking bites for himself while you drank from your bottle. After a long day of outdoor play, you were nearly falling asleep into your bowl by the time you had emptied it.

Big strong hands lifted you out of your highchair and carried you over to the couch. You struggled to keep your eyes open while Lee settled himself into the sofa, before he pulled you into his lap and wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders. The soup had settled warmly in his tummy and you didn’t hesitate to make it your pillow. Lee’s hands traced shapes all across your back as you let yourself drift off into dreams of a winter wonderland.

[baileypie-writes]

i need a male reader with veneer asap i dont care what happends but im desperate atp🛐🛐🙏🙏

A/N ~ Sure! I hope you enjoy like the story I picked out!

~I’ll Take Care of You!~

(Part 2 here!)

Veneer x Male!Sick!Reader

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Reader: Male

Relationship: Romantic

Synopsis: You’re sick, and Veneer insists on taking care of you.

Warnings: Reader having a cold, Veneer being a bit protective, cringe

You felt yourself being pulled out of your dreamless sleep by your ringtone. Rolling over with a groan and a dry cough, you checked your phone to see who was calling you: Veneer. Of course.

You answered his call. “Hey, Veneer.” Your voice was raspy.

“Hey babe. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah.” You coughed again.

“Woah, you feeling okay?” Veneer asked, concern in his voice. As you were now fully wake, you came to the realization that, no, you in fact were not feeling okay. Your throat was really sore.

“No, not really. I got a sore throat.” Before you could say anything else, a dramatic gasp came from your phone.

“Oh no, are you sick? I’m coming over!” His words came out very fast, making his concern more obvious.

“That’s okay Veneer, I can take care of myself.” You tried to calm him down. While you loved your boyfriend, you didn’t want do deal with him hovering over you all day. You just wanted to sleep. But your attempt was proven to be a failure, because you could hear him zipping up his jacket, and grabbing his car keys.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon!” Said Veneer, clearly not hearing what you said. “Love you, bye!” He hung up. You flopped onto your back and let out a long sigh.

“Well, at least I can stay in bed all day.”

~~~~

About ten minutes later, you heard a car pull into your driveway. You knew who it was, and knew he had a key to your house, so you didn’t bother getting up. You heard the door unlock and open, followed by Veneer calling your name.

“I’m in here!” You called hoarsely. You heard quick footsteps approaching your room, then your bedroom door swung open.

“Hey! How you doing?” Veneer asked, clearly still worried. He walked towards you bed. You shimmied out your covers to sit up.

“Not any better than I was ten minutes ago.”

Veneer gave you a sad look, then put his hand to your forehead. “Yikes, you’re pretty warm. Do you have a thermometer?”

“I’m pretty sure I do. It should be in the cabinet to the right of the stove.” Veneer nodded, then zipped out of the room. You heard some digging around in the kitchen, then the sound of the cabinet closing. Your boyfriend came back a few seconds later, thermometer in hand. He held it in front of your face, so you put it under your tongue.

The two of you sat in awkward silence for about twenty seconds. Then the thermometer let out a beep, signaling that it was done taking your temperature. You took it out of your mouth, and looked at the tiny screen.

“Damn, 100.2 degrees.”

“Oh no, that’s high! I’m so sorry! Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? I can make you something-” There he went again. Nervous rambling.

“I would really appreciate it if you got me some medicine and some soup.”

“You got it! Just sit back, and let your amazing boyfriend, Veneer, take care of you!” Once again, he ran to the kitchen. You sighed, and layed back down. Before you could fully fall back asleep though, a question popped up in your brain.

“Does Veneer even know how to cook?”

The question worried you for a second, but you decided that you were too tired to care. You just let yourself fall back asleep, fully trusting Veneer to take care of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @thefreakandthehair! With thirty-nine works in the Steve/Eddie and Stranger Things tags on Archive of our Own!

In an underdogfics first, we have TWO nominators!

Our first nominator recommends the following works by @thefreakandthehair:

this is my month, I can feel it. october, baby!

never been afraid of any deviation.

scar-crossed lovers.

the answers are all inside of this.

Our second nominator, @sidekick-hero, recommends the following works by @thefreakandthehair:

over the hills and far away

meeting you was coming home.

make no plans and none can be broken.

rounding third, sliding home.

what's mine is yours (to leave or take)

Lex's brain is full of very creative scenarios, reading her writing is like reading an anthology of short stories but it's with all of your favorite characters! You get to see what they'd do in this AU or that AU, I love the exploration. It's like she's made a stew and it's simmering on the stove and you realize you're so hungry for stew as soon as you see it. <3 -- anonymous

Lex writes characters that come to life on the page while you're reading her stories. It makes it so easy to get invested in them, to feel with them and root for them to get their happy ending. She's one of these authors I would follow anywhere, any trope, any setting and universe, I am here for it. So I think more people should get to find her stories and be treated to the magic. -- @sidekick-hero

Below the cut, @thefreakandthehair answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

How can I possibly give just one reason! These two burrowed themselves into my brain like little gerbils with no hope of ever getting them out. I mean, was I supposed to hear ‘dontcha big boy?’ and be normal about it? But in all seriousness, they’re two sides of the same coin and those oppositions in character are super fun to play with!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

It was tough to choose, but friends to lovers keeps coming up!

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

If I have to choose a particular trope, hurt/comfort would be the closest fit, but in the sense of healing past hurts together as a unit.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This question sent me into an existential crisis and the best I could do is narrow it down to three, and even that was nearly impossible. In no particular order: We’ll Know For The First Time by KikiZ; carve your name into my chest by hexiewrites; and more recently, Among the Wildflowers by ParadimeShifts.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Rivals to Lovers in my football AU! I’ve been so excited to get moving on that one.

What is your writing process like?

Oh, I wish I had a better one. I start with a skeleton outline, pop on some music, and then pick and choose which part of the outline sparks joy in that moment. I rarely, if ever, write chronologically so I just write what feels good in the moment and then go back with a scalpel to create connective tissue.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Definitely writing out of order, I think! And if there’s one thing about me, it’s that someone is gonna have an introspective moment looking up at the stars. Someone told me it’s like my calling card and they’re not wrong.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I like a bit of both. I like to post on a schedule for multi-chapter fics but only after it’s either completely done or mostly done so that there’s no pressure to it.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Over The Hills And Far Away incorporated some personal bits of my past that were equal parts cathartic and difficult to write at times, so I’d have to say that one! It’s really satisfying to take experiences that you regret or that didn’t end the way you’d hoped and give them a different ending in fiction.

How did you get the idea for never been afraid of any deviation?

The Eddie Month prompt for that day! Me and my co-mod for the event, nostalgicbones, included Bad Reputation by Joan Jett as a prompt and as I was listening to it, it got me thinking about how Eddie is someone who cares for those in less than ideal situations— maybe even to the point of weaponizing his own bad reputation to protect someone. In this case, that was Steve!

When writing the answers are all inside of this, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to become multiple chapters! That one is part of my So Much For Stardust series (that I haven’t forgotten about, I’ve just been busy with big bangs) so it was based on The Pink Seashell interlude from the album. I still don’t know exactly how a 1-minute interlude turned into a 15k multi-chapter fic, but it was super fun to let go off the rails!

What inspired scar-crossed lovers?

Also a So Much For Stardust series fic, the first one in the series, actually. I heard Heaven, Iowa for the first time and wrote this based on that song in a day. My brain just kept rotating it around like a rotisserie chicken until I wrote it.

What was your favorite part to write from scar-crossed lovers?

This is ironic because I’m not an angst-writer by nature, but writing about the slow deterioration of Eddie’s van as a symbol for the passage of time was really fun to do. Bittersweet, but it was one of those things that I didn’t realize I was doing until I was in the middle of it and once I realized, I just carried it throughout!

How do/did you feel writing never been afraid of any deviation.?

Excited! It was the first time that I wrote pre-s4 steddie (which is wild that in two years, I just wrote that for the first time last fall?) and it was so fun to do!

What was the most difficult part of writing the answers are all inside of this.?

Probably balancing the kids’ voices in the first chapter while still creating tension between Steve and Eddie.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It isn’t one of the fics listed here, but in no better version I could pretend to be tonight, I loved writing the line “Something about Steve feels like home, and Eddie is only familiar with houses.” Hurt/comfort, my beloved.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’m planning on taking a break from big bangs for a bit to focus on some super neglected WIPs, so there are a few upcoming fics I’m excited about! My Football AU, an ASMR Artist!Eddie x Insomniac!Steve AU, and I’m working on a fic called Pickup Note with sidekick-hero and firefly-party that I cannot wait to dive into fully.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just thank you so much for all that you do with this blog! The ship truly exploded overnight and there are so many incredible stories that I’ve completely missed just because they’ve fallen through the cracks. I really appreciate what you’re doing here and the undertaking that it’s been!

Thank you to our author, @thefreakandthehair, and our nominators, anonymous and @sidekick-hero! See more of @thefreakandthehair works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

𝓢𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓲𝓪: 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓕𝓸𝓸𝓭

This is a series featuring the Twisted Wonderland cast in different scenarios where they show the Reader their love through food! It's Scarabia's turn ♡ Enjoy! ♡

Please note: Jamil's part is inspired by a headcanon I have for him, which I discussed with my friend Ian (@crystallizsch) here!

𝓚𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓶 𝓐𝓵-𝓐𝓼𝓲𝓶

☆ Cooking together ☆

⋆ Kalim had asked you to visit him at Scarabia around lunch time, saying he had a surprise for you. He looked so excited as he asked, itching to tell you what it was but doing his best to keep it to himself. His smile grew when you had agreed, bursting with excitement as he ran off. He exclaimed he needed to start preparing for it as he waved you good bye, coming back a moment later when he realized he forgot his kiss. You couldn't help but laugh as he ran back towards you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before rushing off again.

⋆ When you entered Scarabia you saw smoke coming from the hall, immediately heading to the kitchen. From the doorway you could hear a commotion, holding your hand over your mouth as you made your way through. Once inside you saw Kalim, standing over the stove with a pan in his hand. Whatever he was trying to make didn't work out, burnt to a crisp and unrecognizable.

"Oh no, not again!" He coughs from the smoke as he throws it away, clearly upset.

"I followed the recipe and everything! What am I doing wrong?! ...and Name will be here any moment! Maybe I should have asked Jamil for help..."

⋆ You approached him carefully, putting your hand on his shoulder as you asked if he was alright. He jumped in surprise as he turned to you, unaware you had been there. He did his best to smile, though you could tell it was forced, letting out a light laugh.

"Ah, Name! I didn't see you come in! I-"

He cuts himself off as he sees the state of the kitchen, deflating as he frowns, shaking his head.

"I wanted to surprise you with a date, and make your favorite food... But no matter what I did, it never seemed to turn out right! I'm sorry Name..."

⋆ Your chest grew warm as you looked around the kitchen, touched by the gesture. It was clear he had tried multiple times to make it, dirty dishes sitting on the counters and the trash piled with burnt food. You cupped his cheek with your hand, waiting for him to look you in the eyes before thanking him.

"How about we make it together?" You offered, Kalim's eyes shining at your idea. His face broke out into a genuine smile as he happily agreed, grabbing the recipe he found.

⋆ You and Kalim followed the recipe as best as you could, working together to prepare it. The kitchen was full of smiles and laughter, correcting each other's mistakes and feeding each other when testing the taste. It may not have turned out great, but it was the best you had ever tasted, knowing how much love and care was put into it.

"I'm glad you like it, Name! What should we make next? Oh, I know! How about your favorite dessert? I guess we could always save that for our next date, aha ha!" ♡

𝓙𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵 𝓥𝓲𝓹𝓮𝓻

☆ Family recipes ☆

⋆ There were dishes Jamil wouldn't make for others, ones that Kalim didn't even know about, holding them close to his heart. These were dishes that he and Najma grew up having, learning the recipes for himself once he was old enough. Recipes that have been passed down through the Viper family for generations, meant to be made and had with family. For loved ones. As he gets to know you, his feelings growing and turning to something more, he thinks of these recipes, wanting to share these foods with you.

⋆ There would be times when he was alone, having already made Kalim and the rest of the dorm their food, that he would end up making one of the recipes for himself, wondering if you would enjoy it as he ate. As much as tried to deny it, to fight it, he grew attached to you. Not just attached, oh no, he knew in the back of his mind what this was, refusing to admit it.

⋆ One day, he offers to make you dinner, asking you to stop by once his dorm was finished eating. His offer was unexpected, making your heart race as you agreed. You showed up early, finding Jamil still cooking in the dorm kitchen. He motions you to join him when he notices your arrival, asking if you'd like to help him prepare it. You agree, grabbing an apron before awaiting his instructions. He guides you through the dish, having you taste test it after each step. As you complimented it, he felt a sense of pride bursting in his chest, a small smile coming to his face.

⋆ Once it was done and served, you sat down across from each other, Jamil waiting for you to have the first bite. He was radiating with satisfaction as you both enjoyed your meal, soaking in your compliments.

"This is so good, Jamil! I don't think I've ever had this before. Is this a new recipe?"

He looks down at his plate at your question, focusing on his food as his face grows warm. After a moment he looks up, doing his best to be subtle as he responds.

"No, it's an old recipe. I learned it from my mom."

"Oh, really?"

"It's been passed down through my family for generations, and only those in the Viper family know how to make it."

⋆ It takes a moment before his words settle in, realizing that you knew how to make it now, your face growing warm as you turn away. He smiles at your reaction, his heart racing as you realized the significance of this dinner. He slowly moves his hand and places it over yours, holding it in the middle of the table.

"I'll have to cook for you again sometime." He promises, already having the next recipe in mind ♡

I hope you enjoyed! ♡ Which dorm should I do next? ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[mixes-archive]

König SFW Alphabet

Hello and welcome to the archive! It seems that a lot of guests have appeared since yesterdays advertisment, welcome! We do hope you enjoy your stay and make sure to read the rules :)

Requested by:

A = Affection

(How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

König is so affectionate, more so in private than in public. He loves calling you the most embarrassing german nicknames like Honigbiene or Mausi. Will mostly stick to Schatz when around others though. He also is very physical with his affection, leaning against you even if he knows you can't support his weight or carrying you around in various positions (man's is strong so he will carry you no matter what)

B = Best friend

(What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Becoming his friend might just be the most difficult thing you'll ever do. You'd have to be a bit careful around him outside of the battlefield, as to not scare him. But if you get him authentic Austrian alcohol or Mozartkugeln, he will be loyal to you forever.

As a friend, he'd constantly talk about his (and your) interests. König will also ask about your country a lot if you feel comfortable enough to answer his questions. He'll also actively seek your presence out just to be around you.

C = Cuddles

(Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

König is, once you get to know him, an oversized and touch starved teddy bear. He LOVES cuddles. Whatever position and wherever, as long as it's not infront of others. He will look for any excuse to wrap his arms around you though, yes, that includes "correcting your form" when you handle a gun he's even slightly proficient in.

Once home, or at base, you almost can't get him off of you.

D = Domestic

(Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I can't see him settling down, but if it was your wish, he absolutely would follow you anywhere to settle down, even if it was a country which language he didn't speak. But he'd probably ask to save up for a nice house where he doesn't bang his head on the door frames first.

He knows how to make a few Käsespätzle and that's it. If you know how to make Austrian cuisine like 'Oma', König will love you forever and beg you to teach him. He'll try to help you cook however he can, but DO NOT. let him near the stove.

He will gladly do the dishes and clean your home as a thanks though.

E = Ending

(If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I don't think he'd tell you, maybe write a letter and leave it for you to find once you get home.

That being said, you'd ever have to have fucked up massively for him to break up with you, or he's forced to for your safety. If the latter is the case, he will be back for you as soon as it's save to do so.

F = Fiance(e)

(How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It'll take a while for him to realize your relationship is permanent, maybe a year or so, but it goes fairly quick after that. He's lowkey really scared of either you or him dying, so he kinda tries to rush a wedding.

G = Gentle

(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Gentle giant baby boy <3

He'll be really gentle with you, since he knows how big n' strong he is, König will hold his strength back a lot. Although, if you're both on the battlefield, he will be much less inclined to care about that sort of stuff, just grabbing your hand and running or forcing your head down to avoid bullets.

He always thoroughly thinks about what to say before he says it, so if there's even the slightest chance something he says could hurt you, he won't unless absolutely necessary.

H = Hugs

(Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Much like cuddles, König absolutely loves hugs!! He's more inclined to stick to them on the battlefield since there isn't much time for affection there. His hugs are so warm and soft though, your face either stuck in his man-boobs or in the crook of his neck.

I = I love you

(How fast do they say the L-word?)

When either he or you confesses to the other. After that, he'll say it all the time. Alternatively, if you've been friends for a long time and your relationship just progressed in a romantic way, he'll have said it wayyy before he had those kinds of feelings for you.

J = Jealousy

(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Probably not that jealous, unless someone is explicitly flirting with and not leaving you alone. In that case, König will magically find more courage than any person should have and scare them away at all cost if they don't leave you alone.

After, he'll give you a lil kissy and say something like "Niemand sollte dich stören wenn du das nicht willst, Schatz."

K = Kisses

(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

A TON of forehead, nose and hair kisses. If his mask is on, he's more likely to kiss your hands, shoulders or neck. If you're really lucky, he'll even lift his mask up a teeny tiny bit and kiss you properly.

König is no more than putty in your hands if you kiss the corner of his mouth.

L = Love language

(How do they show their affection?)

GIFT GIVING, PARALLEL PLAY AND PHYSICAL AFFECTION. He loves collecting little trinkets for you!! Going from small flowers to an absolutely gorgeous necklace (he'll keep the secret of how much it cost to his grave). And honestly, König gets so giddy when he's in a 10 meter radius of you. If you leave the room to go sit somewhere else, he'll follow you around too. If he was drawing you, König will look at you like this >:(, but immediately melt if you just keep working and acknowledging his presence occasionally.

Also, just loves holding you however you prefer, he likes it warm >:)

M = Morning

(How are mornings spent with them?)

Trying to escape his iron grip to get ready. (spoiler: he will not let go ever)

You can however, convince him to let you go if you say you'll make breakfast. He'll consider letting you get up then.

N = Night

(How are nights spent with them?)

Cuddling and maybe having him talk to you in german. He'll try to teach you if you can't speak it too. If you respond, König will actually be so happy and fall asleep with a smile on his face :)

O = Open

(When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Honestly, once you get past his shyness, he's so talkative with you. If you ask, he'll tell you anything about his past and his childhood growing up in different parts of Austria.

P = Patience

(How easily angered are they?)

We all know how irritable he gets on the battlefield, but no matter what you do, that anger will never, ever be directed at you. You could literally murder his entire family and he'd be "Schatz, why did you do that? :( That wasn't nice :(( Please can we talk about this? :["

But seriously, if you do find some way to make him angry, he'll write you a letter and leave you alone for some time until he's cooled down.

Q = Quizzes

(How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Every. Single. Detail. If you told him about that one embarrassing thing you did in fifth grade, he won't only remember what you did, he'll also remember how you said it, the look of absolute horror in your eyes when you realized just how cringe it was and the way your arms moved was just so fascinating to him.

König will also write a lot of what you say down in is diary, occasionally reading old entries about you when he's separated from you for a long time.

R = Remember

(What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

(Trying) To make Schnitzel and Petersilkartoffeln on your off-day at base. König doesn't even think he'll forget the wretched smell the first burnt Schnitzel produced, but the payoff of the smile on your face and the final meal is unforgettable to him.

If he has the chance, he'll absolutely tell everyone about the story, his shyness leaving him for even just a minute or so.

S = Security

(How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

With his life. And his body too. König has been a meat-shield to you one too many times for your taste.

But in turn, you have to keep a little bit of a look out for him at social situations.

T = Try

(How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Maybe not effort, but a lot of thought. When it comes to tasks and dates at least.

König starts working on gifts month in advance, putting his blood, sweat and tears into it to get it just right for you.

U = Ugly

(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

If he can't remember how to say something in English or misuse a phrase, he'll stop talking for a little while, sulking about 'not being able to communicate properly'. He also has the tendency to back out of social situations last minute.

V = Vanity

(How concerned are they with their looks?)

Only about his skin. Man's uses more skincare items than one of those clean girl grwm on TikTok. After he meets you, he'll possibly also care a little more about his hair, but that's it.

W = Whole

(Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He relies on you a lot. Both in senses of communicating with others, as well as emotionally and physically. If you're gone for a while, he'll start hugging pillows and writing romantic letters he never sends. He's much more shy when you aren't around.

X = Xtra

(A random headcanon for them.)

Loves to draw you and flowers specifically. Also keeps trying to dry them in his sketchbook, but forgets they're in there and opens it before they've dried.

Y = Yuck

(What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Probably someone who makes fun of him for being shy, or bosses him around all the time.

Z = Zzz

(What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Hugging you and pressing your face into his tiddies<3

König loves gathering a lot of blankets and just stewing them atop both of you!!

A/N: he is so bbg and I love him please keep the requests coming

[lou-struck]

Pancakes for Dinner

Izuku Midoriya x reader

~ For some people, moving about the kitchen is effortless. You are not dating one of those people, but you appreciate Izuku’s efforts.

Wc:1.1k

a/n: I wrote this for pancake day but ended up having other things to do.

You think these cold, late winter days are starting to last just a bit longer. 

The evening drive home from work that usually has you chasing the sunset is now much brighter, and as your vehicle pulls into your driveway, the sky is just beginning to darken with rich shades of purple, pink, and orange.

Taking a deep breath in, you inhale the savory scent of someone using their grill the smokiness makes your stomach rumble as it yearns for a home-cooked meal. Between Izuku's hectic patrol schedule and your unorthodox work schedule, you cannot remember the last time you took the time to make a nice meal.

You hunger for something made with love and not just convenience.

But have not the energy to make it happen.

Tiredly, you reach your front door. You are about to put your key in the lock, but then you notice that it has already been unlocked. 

Tiredly, your lips form a small, fond smile when you realize that Izuku had gotten home before you. Maybe the two of you could order food and finally catch up on that show you've been meaning to watch.

"I'm home."

The front door closes behind you as your call remains unanswered. There is a doughy smell in the air, and the clanging of pots and utensils can be heard down the narrow hallway where your kitchen is located.

"Zuku?" you call again, following the noise with light steps, your socks pressing into the fluffy carpet. Your boyfriend's unmistakable sign reaches your ears just as you peer through the fluorescent-lit doorway. 

To say the kitchen is a disaster is an understatement. A creamy batter is splattered all over the countertops, and the cabinets and mixing bowls are piled high in the sink. But in the middle of the disaster, Izuku stands determinedly, his strong shoulders hunched over the stovetop poking at a skillet with a rubber spatula in complete concentration mode. The flames coming from the burner are ridiculously high as they lick the side of the pan.

The Sugarman apron you got him for Christmas secured snugly around his trim waist, tied with a lopsided bow. You wait to get his attention until he is a bit farther away from the dangerously high flames. Next to the stove, there is a plate piled high with crumbly bits of what you assume to be his attempts at making crepes. Some pieces are golden brown and paper-thin, while others are slightly thicker.

His phone is propped up against the ceramic flour jar, and when you see what covers the screen, your heart overflows with affection. It's the crepe video you sent him earlier while scrolling on your lunch break. You thought the recipe looked amazing and wanted to save it for later. 

But Izuku Midoriya, aka Mr. Acts of Service Is My Love Language, must've thought that you were craving them tonight.

"Izuku?" you call again. You voice much louder when he is out of arm's reach of the stove. You don't need to see his face to know that he is disappointed in how his crepes turned out as the one falls apart onto the plate. 

This time, the green-haired man turns with a bit of a jump in your direction. A bit of an embarrassed flush on his freckled cheeks as he runs his hand through his hair. 

"Y/n!" he smiles, glancing down at the mess. "You're home early today."

You walk in and lean in for a kiss. "Nope, right on time today." you hum playfully as he leans in for the kiss. Subtly, you reach behind him and turn the stove off, the flames dying quickly as you deny them of their fuel. Without the potential fire hazard, you shut your eyes and give his lips the full attention they deserve.

"Sorry about the mess," he murmurs against your lips. "I promise I'll clean it up when I am done.

You nod thoughtfully, knowing that he will. Izuku may be a bit clumsy when it comes to cooking, but he would never destroy the kitchen and leave you to pick up the pieces. "What are you up to here?" you tease, wetting your thumb with your tongue and wiping a bit of pancake batter that has somehow splattered onto his forehead.

"I- uhh." the tips of his ears turn pink as he looks sheepishly at the splatter marks on the cabinets. "I saw that video you sent me and wanted to surprise you by making some for you when you got home. I followed every step of the recipe, but making them was a lot harder than I thought it would be. As for the batter, I was a bit too strong when I was stirring everything together and it kinda went...everywhere."

You notice the way he awkwardly scans the room. But when he notices the plate from what he considers failed attempts out on the counter, he steps subtly to the side, trying to shield it with his body. But in truth, they may not look like the ones in the video, but they still look edible. 

"They really don't look bad," you say honestly. "This was your first time making them, so of course they wouldn't turn out perfect. 

"They are just broken little pieces," he mumbles more to himself than to you. His hand cupping his chin as he gets lost in his reflections. "Maybe I should've used a different pan or used oil instead of butter. The recipe only called for flour, but since they are breaking apart, I should've accounted for some sort of binding agent like yeast. Do they even use yeast in pancakes? I really tried to make them according to the recipe, but no matter what I did, they just kept tearing apart."

As he murmurs to himself, you reach over and pinch off a piece of one of the crepes to try. It tastes nice. The pieces are fully cooked, and the taste isn't too sweet at all. Overall, it's a solid first attempt. They were made with love, and that's all that matters.

"A-are they bad?" he asks, his eyes inspecting your face carefully as he waits to see your reaction. 

Leaning in, you place a soft kiss on his cheek, a simple act of reassurance that never fails to make your heart flutter. "Don't worry, they're perfect."

~

A bit later, the two of you find yourselves curled up on the couch, finally catching up on your show. In your laps are two bowls filled to the brim with scraps of crepes and toppings as you eat them with spoons.

Enjoying the sweet, sweet taste of breakfast for dinner.

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network