#especially considering how much i call out at this job anyways like i feel like it'll be a relief for them to not have to deal with me
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what love feels like ༓ myg (m)
✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.
Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader
AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au
Rating: M, 18+
Word Count: 6.7k+
Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content
sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together
Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie
a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰
“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”
With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.
Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.
It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?
Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.
“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”
“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.
“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."
“Oh, well that’s very–“
“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.
“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”
Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.
“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.
Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”
As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”
“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.
“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”
With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.
“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”
The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.
“What did you say your last name is?”
You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.
“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.
“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.
“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”
Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.
“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”
“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”
“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.
There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.
Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?
“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.
“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”
“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”
“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.
“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.
“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”
Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?
This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.
“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.
“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."
Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.
For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.
Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.
Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.
“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”
What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”
“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.
You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.
“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.
“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."
With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.
"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.
"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"
You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.
"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."
"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.
"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"
"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.
"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."
Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."
"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.
"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"
You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"
"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."
The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.
"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."
That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.
"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.
"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."
"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”
"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."
Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."
Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.
"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.
"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.
"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.
"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.
"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.
"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"
Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.
"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.
"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"
"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."
"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"
"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."
"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"
Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."
Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"
"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"
"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."
It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.
"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."
"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.
"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.
"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.
The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.
Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.
"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"
Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"
"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"
"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."
You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.
"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"
"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"
"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.
"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.
"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."
"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.
"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."
"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.
"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.
"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.
Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.
What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.
You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.
"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.
"'m, I love you too."
Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.
"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.
"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."
He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"
You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.
"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."
You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.
"Yoon?"
"Mm."
"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.
"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.
"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.
"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.
You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.
"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."
Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.
"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."
His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.
"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."
Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.
"But...you haven't seen me–"
"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."
"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."
Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.
"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.
Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.
"Can I?"
You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.
With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.
"Fuck," you swear.
"Feeling good?"
All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.
"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.
"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"
He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.
Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.
"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."
"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"
Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.
Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.
You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.
"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.
"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."
Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"
"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.
"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.
"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.
"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.
"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."
"Really? You're not just teasing me?"
Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.
"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.
Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.
"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.
Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.
"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."
Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.
"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."
"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"
Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.
"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."
"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"
"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."
"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.
"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.
This is what love feels like.
a/n: LMK what you think 🥰
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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton
#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#yoongi x reader#yoongi fanfic#bts imagine#bts smut#bts fluff#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts scenarios#bts au#fic:whatlovefeelslike#kookslastbutton
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— Who hurt you?
— yandere dad-ghost x gn teenager reader
Summary || You come home bloodied and bruised from school. While getting patched up by your dad, you reveal things
A/N || This is one of my favorite fics atm. Idk why but seeing soft dad ghost?? Yeah. That's how to do, my heart is. Anyway, enjoy 😉
Warnings || details of being hurt/bullied, blood, hints that ghost kills, and comfort.
Copper and sharpie. That’s all you can smell. The stench has embossed itself on your clothes, your flesh, and inside your nostrils. It was embarrassing really, coming home after being chased by bullies.
They slapped you to the ground. Laughed in your face as the girls kept you from getting up, sitting directly on your chest. They pulled out permanent markers and drew foul things on your face, arms, and legs.
Knead your stomach and kicked you. All you wanted was to hang out with them.
Silence settles between the bathroom, hearing your dad — Simon Riley, Ghost or a big Kodiak bear you like to call him, go through his bedroom, the sounds of his drawers opening and closing as he huffs loudly.
You heard the cruel rumors of your reputation. It was a gnawing sort of feeling of betrayal. One that ate away at your very soul and left nothing but pain in its wake. The action alone may not be the worst thing in the entire world. But what made betrayal ache was that in the past, in its place, was trust.
The rumors of you spread like a disease; whispers in the school of ‘slut’ and ‘freak’. Everyone looked at you like something else. Even teachers scoffed at you. You thought you could handle it, until today. It’s expected for your favorite shirt to be stained — again.
You didn’t want to hear your dads voice. Him being incredibly disappointed in you.
You leaned your head on the back of the toilet, chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to come in. It was long, just like the torture you’d endured hours before.
“What happened?”
You stayed quiet, continuing to look up at the white ceiling before turning your head to the side, looking at him in the doorway with half-lidded eyes. He’s leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed against his chest; almost like he’s disappointed. But his voice says otherwise.
“Kiddo, what happened?” he re-asks, his boots creaking with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space toward you.
You stayed quiet, making him stare at you before sighing.
He opened the bottom of the sink, grabbed the med kit and seized the necessary items before turning on the faucet, grabbing another dark rag due to the one you’re holding already used; stained with markers, blood, and some snot.
Your dad clicked his tongue, “What the hell happened?”
“M’ don’t wanna talk about it,”
“You worried me,” your dad voiced, using your name. You considered his words carefully, staring at your lap, legs, and arms littered with all kinds of marks.
“You also worry too much,” you pointed out, watching him kneel before you.
He steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn’t speak; at first, silence hangs between you, once again as throws it away; grabbing the cloth into the sink. Then, he soaks it until it’s dripping, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint color and standing out against his pale skin.
“You didn’t answer your phone,” he directs, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. “I thought something happened. Which did.”
You stayed quiet for a second. “… I didn’t mean to scare you,” you whisper.
You can see his brown eyes narrow, his mind occupied by something. Clearly, he’s angry. And who wouldn’t? Finding your kid barely able to stand up, laying against the wall for help covered in bruises and blood, was a frightening sight. Especially with his type of job, anything is possible.
The pressure of the cloth against your face is so delicate, almost like he’s appearing afraid to hurt you — gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline as well as the drawings. He shakes his head gently, considering your words. “Not your fault, kiddo.”
He then grabbed your arm, rotating your wrist as he examined the bruises and forming – you watched his face fill with fury.
“Who did this to you?” he seethed, voice deep and low, a tone you’d heard not so much before.
You shook your head, clearly not in the mood to talk about it. But it didn’t satisfy him, he called your name, demanding you to look at him. Tears were already falling before more words curled out of his mouth.
At long last, finally with the adrenaline and frightened state going away, you let your guard down, letting tears pour down your eyes. It stung, face hurting more than you’d like. But you didn’t care. You needed to cry.
Your hands went up to wipe away the tears, but before you can hit your sore cheeks, he’s capturing you in his arms and pulling you to his chest. He doesn’t say anything, letting your head rest on his shoulder. All you required at this moment was to be held, to know you were loved. And that he wasn’t mad — never at you.
He rubbed your back, kissing the side of your head as you cried out more — sobbing turned into occasional hiccups and gasps, then sniffles and permanent hiccups that he would occasionally let out a chuckle on.
“Ready to talk about it, kid?” He asks cautiously, prodding but patient. You only sigh softly before looking up at him, quickly noticing the snot and tears stained into his gray hoodie.
“It’s just…” you pause, trying to find the right words to say. “Things have been rough, lately. School has been hard. Everything seems to be going wrong. Especially with the other kids.”
His eyes squint as he listens to you speak, the hazel color meeting your own, leaving you choking in your words. He’s your dad. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling him. But what if—?
“—And I know that being a teenager is hard. But, I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to see them.” you trail off, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as you feel your eyes swell up once more.
His thumb catches them before they fall, however, and you smile at him for a moment before continuing.
“I’m scared to go back,” you whisper brokenly.
For a moment, the bathroom is silent, but all at once your dad’s arms are tightly around you in a hug. All-encompassing, it only makes you cry once more. Your head slumps over, forehead pressing into his shoulder – his hand pressing against the back of your neck.
“How long has it been happening?”
You shrug your shoulders, digging yourself deeper into his shoulder. “Long enough, I guess…”
“Kiddo…” he starts, sighing out of defeat. “Shit- I’m sorry for not noticing. Le’s keep you home, mkay’?”
“Okay,” you whisper, but that’s good enough for him. His hands started rubbing your back, before reaching over for the rag on the counter — continuing to clean up the stained marks and your irritated cheeks.
“Do you need me to do anything?” he says, his tone hardened. From the looks of it, he had a plan. But, you knew or not. His face was unreadable at times.
You shook your head, before hissing out at the soaped cloth on your cheek. He gently moved your hair out of the way, just enough to expose the wound near your eye.
“Sorry. Need to make sure it won’t get infected.”
Before you know it, he was done. Already putting the first aid kit back under the sink and throwing the used cloth into the wash. “Tell ya’ what,” he says, making you raise your eyebrows. Though, he pulled his cracked-screen phone from his pocket, the exact one he’s had for years and the one you’ve begged to get a new one.
He offers it to you, already on the phone on. More often or not, he didn’t let you snoop through it. Licensed files detailed in the phone. Plus, the last time you played a prank on him with it, he grounded you — for two weeks.
“W-hat do you want me to… do?” you stammered questioningly, hesitantly grabbing it before looking at the screen. Then back at him.
“Order pizza. Get whatever you want.”
Your eyes widened, a smile widening to which he chuckled at. “There you are,” he says fondly, hand brushing your hair back. “You get whatever, yeah?”
“Okay,” you say, the first true smile forming today.
You got up, eagerly running out of the bathroom and downstairs as Simon yelled a small ‘watch it!’. As he gets up from his knees, he walked into his office – making sure to hear that you’re calling the pickup line before ringing Price.
He immediately answered, asking what he needed. From the way you described their name-calling, the images of you sobbing as he held you, anger filled his veins, knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist with rage.
“I need a favor.”
And weeks later, the news began talking about a murder spree – snapping you out of your thoughts, only to see both of your ex-friends, and those teachers on TV. A pang of guilt set through you. But, beside you, your dad had a huge smile; one that was promising to never let anyone hurt you.
—
Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!
© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.
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Charles Leclerc NSFW alphabet
A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)
He's very passionate and so will want to just lay there and cuddle for a while before picking her up and carrying her towards the bath, where they continue to bask in each other.
B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)
I'm lead to believe he doesn't have a specific favourite. But he likes ass and tits equally, I think he's one of those men who would slap your ass when you stand up. He also loves to hold her waist, no matter the situation.
On himself he really likes his arms. He loves seeing them around her body.
C-Cum (anything to do with cum)
Charles cums a lot, and pretty often. He definitely likes to cum inside of her, it doesn't matter whether it's a cunt or her mouth. He just loves it.
D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)
He’s not a big fan of deep throating when getting a blow job. He’s not too sure why, but he never understood the appeal. He does however a little bit of pain when getting head.
E- Experience (how experienced are they)
Have you seen him? Very experienced. He's not a big fan of hookups but he doesn't need to be guided too much as he's able to read her body language easily.
F- Favourite position
He actually loves missionary, especially when her legs are wrapped around him. He also loves bath sex so much, it's also so soft and comforting, she's usually on top of him, but he's thrusting up.
G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)
from time to time sex can be filled with giggles and jokes. But usually he's pretty serious as his focus is pleasure and how much he loves her.
H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)
He definitely shaves pretty often, or at least in neatly trimmed. It makes the clean up easier, and he thinks it just looks better.
I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)
He's SO intimate, he loves to watch her come undone and just wants to show her all of his love. He's very romantic and he loves to fill the bedroom with candles or take her on a lovely date and once they get home he makes love to her.
J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He doesn't masturbate very often as he like to wait for her. But if that's not possible, she would definitely be receiving a call. He doesn't like to masturbate while just thinking, he wants to hear or see her.
K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)
Mommy kink- but he is too scared to say so. He wants it's so bad, and he's been planning on how to tell her for months. Maybe it just slips out while she’s on top and he’s very shocked at what he’s said, but it’s very happy when he realised she liked it
Mirrors- he knows he’s hot, let’s be honest Charles is a little vain and wants to watch himself fucking her
Recording- is this a kink? Anyway, he likes to watch so his favourite thing is recording them and watching it a few weeks later on race weekends
Food play- even just the concept of licking syrup off of her body gets him going. That’s not to say he doesn’t like it on himself. Feeling her touch makes him lose his mind.
L- Location (their favourite place)
He likes hotel rooms because it can get pretty mess a lot of the time. He likes his yacht, it can be quite risky, but nothing he'd shy away from.
M- Motivation (what gets them going?)
Post race sex, that high he gets. Her wearing any of his clothes, it turns him on so much that he just can't resist.
N- No (what turns them off)
Anything usually considered gross. Or extreme pain.
O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)
He LOVES giving, he could spend hours between her legs, lapping up her cunt. He just loves it so much, so he is very skilled. He does like getting head, but he much prefers to go down on her. He knows all the techniques and is prepared to learn more.
P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)
Definitely more slow and sensual, he is NOT a lazy lover. He wants her to feel his passion and love, and that is the best way to do it. He definitely likes to be rough, but not particularly fast., this is usually after a bad race, or sometimes even after a win.
Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)
He has a very neutral opinion and so is not opposed, I think if they were short on time he'd prefer to just wait, or if he was that desperate, he'd happily have a blow job. Overall he prefers to take his time.
R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)
He probably really dislikes taking risks, but that does not mean he's completely vanilla. He just doesn't want anything to end badly in any way, so this is kind of his way of preventing it. But don't worry he does switch things up quite often.
S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)
He's very fit!!! So can go for quite a few rounds most days. Other days he's cumming almost immediately and has a pretty short refractory period. But that's partly why he's so good at oral, he just doesn't want the sex to end
T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)
Mostly likely some form of vibrator, he did use it on himself and few times, then he asked her for some help with it ;) but he does like to use them on her, just no very often, he sees it as a good way to tease or build up an orgasm. He probably owns some form of couples sex toy that he was too scared to talk to her about until she found it. They definitely had a good night.
U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)
He likes to tease a little bit, but he knows eventually he's going to get teased back. He likes teasing physically, using the lightest of touches or suddenly stopping all movement in one area and moving his hand somewhere else.
V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)
He like to be loud, whether he's a sub or not. Usually groans or even a bit of panting in a hot way. If he's subbing then definitely the most beautiful whines and moans you've ever heard. Don't get me wrong, he loves to hear her voice, it lets him know he's doing a good job
W-Wild card (a random headcanon)
Charles wants a baby so bad, so he's developed a massive breeding kink. He's constantly trying to fill her up, wanting to see her carry his child.
X-X-ray (how big are they?)
Have you seen the images? He's big and he's thick. Based on my terrible estimates probably 7 inches.
Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)
Not too high that it could be annoying, but still very high, especially if he's not seen her for a while, then they're fucking like rabbits. He just needs her so desperately.
Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)
Very quickly, he loves cuddles and so that can just put him to sleep. Don't worry, he keeps her on his chest while they sleep, big arms wrapped around her.
#f1 x reader#f1 smut#f1 x reader smut#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#charles lechair#charles leclerc x reader smut#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#Ferrari#ferrari f1
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same bitch who requested the last wrio pregnancy stuffs but I need more and I'm like kinda in love with your writing so I want to request MOREEEEEEE anyways how he deals with reader third trimester (WRIO DOTING ON U CUS UR SO ROUND AND CUTE AWEEHFUREILFRUEIWHFCIR) anyeyss thanks for listening ily nova
-> third trimester
synopsis -> wriothesley during ur third trimester of pregnancy. self explanatory
a/n -> anon ur my spirit animal i love ur energy (and u 😉) but anyways i could write so much more lmk if anyone wants a part 2
warnings -> pregnancy, lactation and vomiting mentions, besides that pure fluff
w/c -> 1.6k
he doesn’t know how to feel the moment you tell him you’re officially in the third trimester of your pregnancy. it all went by so fast, he thinks it was just yesterday you called him into the bathroom to look at the small test that changed your lives in the greatest way possible.
and now, you were almost finished growing your daughter. anyone who even took a glance your way could certainly tell that you were having a child, and it’s certainly the dukes.
the women of the fortress have been keeping tabs on you and your pregnancy, awaiting the day you walk with your baby in your arms instead of in your stomach. they’re so nice to you, so wriothesley allows you to wander sometimes because of it. they’re always willing to make you comfortable and give you some of the nicest labor-inducing teas they can find.
now, this is around the time he’s likely going to take a work leave, or just not work as often. his job requires his undivided attention, and he has to be flexible and able to be there in case a tragedy, like the seal breaking, were to occur. (hopefully not, because he still thinks about how he’d get you out of the fortress in time. you’re unable to run and you can barely walk at a quick pace, leaving him nervous and clueless a lot, considering your living quarters were connected to a door in his office).
besides that, your life is pretty good, despite how uncomfortable you feel all the time. you ache everywhere, and sleep is simply not a thing that comes by often anymore. so, these are the moments wriothesley is able to step in and make sure that you’re content and as comfortable as you possibly can be.
the main thing he needs to do for you is help you stand, considering that it’s incredibly hard for you now. you can do it of course, but it’s too much effort and you always either stand and immediately sit back down due to how winded you feel, or you just don’t try at all. wriothesleys strength comes into hand in these moments, almost making you fall forward due to how quick he pulls you up (the first time he did it, it actually happened. he caught you in time, but it left you laughing and him just there like “i almost just killed you sweetheart” and worried).
he’s so the type of husband to barely wake up when you scoot yourself out of bed to use the restroom, and him behind you giving you a little boost to get up before going right back to sleep. he’ll try to keep consciousness while you’re out of bed, in case you fall or something happens, but as soon as he sees you re-enter the room he’s out once more.
the only times he genuinely wakes up at night is when you frantically shake/tap him or you’re crying. if you’re crying, he’ll sit up and turn on a light (if you want) and try to ask you what the problem is. if it’s just a cramp or if you’re just achy/not in the right position, he’ll massage you or help you reposition the pillows to ensure your comfort.
and when it comes to you walking up his offices’ stairs? he’s incredibly paranoid about it, but he’ll try to not make it known. you had to tell him multiple times to settle, that the railing was enough to keep you on your balance, and that you were just pregnant, not paralyzed. he’ll still try to meet you down at the door to help you up the stairs, especially when you’re at your biggest point. he’d be anything but calm and composed if you were to take a tumble down them (he would have a heart attack on the spot).
and oh, would that man dote on your belly. you’re just so adorable, how could he not? especially when you’re curled up on the couch in his office with a luxurious sherpa blanket and the roundness of your tummy under the cover is very evident. usually, he won’t be able to help himself and would lay down next to you, his head lightly propped up on your stomach or on the side of your body. on the occasions he falls asleep, you stroke his hair, reading whatever book in his office that has piqued your interest this time.
he’s also a tease. sometimes. he’ll walk past you and gently brush a part of his body against your belly, usually his hip or his hand. but back to the point, he’ll rub it, massage it, hold it up to take off pressure from your back and pelvis, and cuddle it! you’re not gonna be pregnant forever, so he sees this as a chance he can’t waste. only if you’re comfortable with it, of course. if not, then he wont proceed.
this man loves tea, so there's no surprise when he brings in a tea that he’d read induces labor, or at least makes for a smoother one. he honestly probably has so many of those types, presenting you the box and allowing you to choose which one you’d like this time. seeing your eyes sparkle and your fingers wiggle as you choose your tea of choice always makes his heart soar in adoration.
and back on the tea thing, he’s on all of the times said book told you to have it. he’s always giving it to you right on the dot of the hour unless something else more important has taken his attention (which isn’t much, unless he’s in a meeting or something really bad has happened in fontaine/the fortress).
he’s also one of those husbands who secretly makes an important note in his brain whenever you have an ultrasound or any sort of baby appointment coming up. he wouldn’t miss one for the world- even though it's one of the little things, it means a lot to the both of you when he shows up alongside you, and shows the world how devoted of a husband he is to you. cue clorinde in the corner taking care of his work for him during the hour that he’s away.
like i said in my last post, his massages are incredible! usually, he’ll get the memo, and right when he gets home, he’ll set you in between his legs before rubbing the soreness out of your back, hips, shoulders, neck, foot, and calf.
he likes to make those moments last longer, and makes him feel good if you feel good. sometimes he’ll add a little kiss to the top of your foot or along your shoulders when he’s done, making you giggle a little before going on about how he has no need to be so formal (in which he counteracts by saying something cheesy about his love for you to make you laugh once more).
he hates seeing you in pain, and especially hates it when he hears you cry about how exhausted you are. no, not that he hates when you cry, he just hates that you have to do this all alone. obviously, he is there to give all of his support and more, and would carry the baby for you if he could, but he can't. and he knows you’re exhausted, but his issue is that there is nothing for him to do to help you feel at least a little better. he understands that it’ll come when the baby is born, and he’s already told you how for the first few weeks he’ll do anything and everything to care for the baby while you catch up on your hard-earned rest.
another great thing about him is that he pays no mind to things such as lactation, vomiting, etc (i have genuinely seen men who make fun of their wives for things such as that out of their control). he recognizes that its just something that happens, and its normal in pregnancy, and he won't get mad at you if any of these things happen while you’re wearing his clothing, either. considering you dislike maternity clothes, you’ve been wearing his shirts lately, resulting in milk stains in some of them. you’re over here apologizing profusely while he gives you a soft lecture on how he understands that it's not your fault, that it's out of your control. because he also knows for certain that if this was something you could control, you’d choose to not have it happen.
this guy is clingy at night, so when he realizes that cuddling you is kind of out of the options, either due to your absolutely obnoxious, in his words pregnancy pillow, or your belly is in the way, he’s certainly not thrilled. but he finds a way, which is usually just spooning you from behind or bringing your head to his chest. the first time you two did the second method, you felt embarrassed, due to your tummy barely even being able to fit the gap between you and his hip, but as time went on, you just didn’t care anymore, literally laying like half on top of him. not like he cares either. thats what he wanted you to do in the first place.
and in the times your so so clingy, wanting to just lay flat on top of him and forget about everything and just be in the warm, strong embrace of your husband, he’s even more crafty! usually uses the side method once again unless you quite literally find a position that’ll make you as close as you possibly could be to him. sometimes it’s incredibly uncomfortable, but if it makes you happy and safe and content, he won’t fight it. just know that this might be the only time you get to do that very position with him.
overall, mans is a great fucking husband during your pregnancy, always super patient with you and would never shame you for things out of your control. you know he’s so so soft for you and you love him so so so so much.
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#genshin x reader fluff#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley fluff#wriothesley x reader fluff#wriothesley x you#wriothesley x y/n#genshin impact fluff#cw pregnancy
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Ooooh, what about this? Future!reader accidentally time traveled to 1940s when she met William Killick, and he had to take care of her due to injuries she had. She ended up staying with him while rejecting his advances because she was trying to find a way to go back to future, and it wouldn’t be fair to him if she were to accept his advances, but she didn’t know William was sabotaging the solutions to ensure she would stay with him forever.
THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL LIKE HOLY SHIT. I was about to write something like this with Tommy in Black Heart, but I opted out, and I hadn't even considered this with William, so I'm so glad you requested it!!
this was supposed to be a short-length fic lol, it's like the longest thing I've ever written on here
Home Is Where the Heart Is ⸻ William Killick
pairing | william killick x future!reader
summary | You don't think much of the box when it arrives at your front door. That is, until you open it and are transported decades into the past. There, you fall into the arms of a handsome soldier, who is intent on making you stay.
word count | 9k
Warnings: DUB-CON, possessive!william, future!reader, period typical sexism it's okay when it's william, reader has a software job, weird time travel plot (who knows how the box got there? it's totally not going to be revealed in part two ;) ), mentions of war, reader simps so hard, p in v sex, breeding kink
Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.
A/N: I'm honestly not too proud with how rushed it was, but I'm glad it's out there. I'm definitely doing a part two. Be warned for errors.
You were lying in a field of grass, tall, bushy trees lining the area around you. You seemed to be in some type of countryside because in the distance you could faintly see quaint little houses and farmland (at least, you assumed it was; your vision was awfully blurry), but other than that, you had no clue as to where you were.
“Ah,” you hissed, noticing the cut on your body. When you arrived — however that happened — you had scrapped your arm on a sharp rock embedded in the dirt, and now it was bleeding, red blood trickling down your arm.
You sighed miserably, trying to make sense of the situation.
Yesterday, a packaged box arrived on your front doorstep. No address, no company, just a note in pen, To [Y/n] [L/n]. You were a little wary of its contents but brought it inside anyway. You opened it and uncovered a machine, steel and simple in its construction, yet difficult to understand. There was no instruction manual or labels for the buttons, and it took you a while to know if you were even looking at it right, the only hint being the Roman numerals inside the dials.
After tinkering around with it, you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were in a completely other place. All you had on were your clothes, some money, and your phone, which, surprise surprise, had no signal, so all you could do was look at your downloads — completely useless — and take a photo.
I must’ve been drugged, you thought, still feeling hazy. I should have called the cops the moment I realized something was off.
You got up and took off your socks, trying to stop the bleeding with it. It wasn’t the most hygienic, but it was all you had at the moment, and you weren’t about to tear off pieces of the shirt you had on, especially not when you were already shivering.
The contraption had traveled with you, and though you were aware it was the reason you were here in the first place, you thought it better to bring it along, as evidence. You could show it to the government, and they could use their little science ways to find the culprit. All would be fine.
All will be fine.
You started walking. You didn’t have any shoes on for protection, so it was difficult to step across the dirt, with all its rocks and insects swarming about, but you managed to get to grass quick enough, and it felt much better, almost healing to walk barefoot on the softness of mother nature.
But you didn’t get very far. Eventually, your stomach started grumbling, and you felt like your intestines were twisting inside with desperation. Your sock was now red, and your hand was trembling, so with a defeated sigh, you let go, of both the sock and the heavy machine, allowing the blood to flow freely. You bent over to pick the sock back up first, but the sudden movement made your head reel, and before you knew it, you were out again.
+++
“You’re awake,” a voice said, a male’s voice, a British accent that sounded like butter. Oh, butter, if you could get your hands on that alone you would be satisfied.
You opened your eyes, blinking. A figure, with pale skin and dark hair made it’s way over to you, and in a panic, you crawled away, eyes darting across the room. You were on a bed, bandages on your arm, but before you could calm down or even begin to think properly, panic took over, your heart rate elevated, and you sighed, before passing out again.
+++
For about the third time today, or however long you were out, you woke up. This time your vision was much clearer, but you still had this nasty migraine in your head. You were sick inside, the kind of sick that happens when you haven’t eaten in a while but can’t eat because you feel like you’ll throw up.
You wondered if you were in the same place again. You remembered a man, with a soothing voice, but he wasn’t here right now. Though the possibility that you had been kidnapped entered your mind, you noticed the lack of bonds and chains on your body. He was probably just helping you, you reasoned.
You slowly got out of bed, wincing at the shooting pain in your arm. You observed your surroundings. The bedroom was very minimalist, and . . . quirky. You loved the design and the materials used, as it reminded you of a cottage, but there was nothing helpful in sight. All the technology you could see, like the kitchen, needed to be updated and was worn out. There was some type of record player, or CD tape, or whatever that was called, on one of the counters and a radio beside it.
You didn’t bother with any of that. You were thirsty, throat dry and gnawing at you, so you went to look for water, hoping that whoever lived here didn’t go out and get it from a fucking well. He probably does. Look at this place!
“Shit!” you swore, your knees buckling from underneath you. You felt so weak and miserable and vulnerable. It hit you at this moment that you were probably a hundred miles away from home, in a strange place in a strange home you’d never seen before. How were you going to get back? What were you going to do?
Tears started welling in your eyes. You hated that you were being so emotional. Why couldn’t you toughen up and deal with the situation like a proper adult?
You leaned onto the counter, trying to balance yourself, when the front door opened up, and the man you saw before walked in, carrying a bag full of vegetables and other foods. He quickly placed the bag down and held you in his arms, his warmth comforting and relaxing.
He had short, dark hair, and a sharp jawline, and from this distance, you could see light freckles scattered across his cheeks. He had the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen, like glaciers, like the ocean. Fuck, he was so handsome.
“Here,” he said, guiding you back to the bedroom. He set you down on the bed, gazing at you with such intensity, like adoration or devotion.
“W-who are you?” you asked, voice cracking. “Where am I? Hngh.” You rubbed your temples. Didn’t he have any pain medications?
“My name is William. William Killick,” the man introduced softly. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.” He went off into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water. You drank it slowly, the cool liquid flowing through your body, wetting your mouth. “I didn’t know if you had family nearby, so I took you to my place.”
William paused, as if thinking of what to say next. “Get more rest, it’s night.”
You hadn’t even noticed the time, but one look out the window told you he was right. It was pitch black outside.
“You’ll wake up tomorrow, and have some breakfast.”
You shook your head, and handed the glass back to him, only for him to set it down on the nightstand table. “Where’s my phone? Where’s my . . . box?”
He stared at you blankly, before clearing his throat. “Your stuff is in the back. I didn't know what it was — hey, don’t move.” William’s strong hands kept you in place, pushing you back down to the bed as gently as he could whilst still keeping a firm grip. “Rest,” he ordered. “Don’t need you fainting on me again.”
You wanted to argue, but you couldn’t. You laid your head on the pillow, without a choice but to trust William, and fell asleep, wrapping yourself in the blanket with a content sigh. All the questions you had, all the thoughts, faded away and were replaced by darkness.
+++
You dreamt of yourself and yourself. You, the spectator, were standing outside a window, but it wasn’t just any window. It was your window, the one that led to the inside of your bedroom, where you could see you and William — the strange man — entangled in the sheets. Lovers. You two were lovers. You two were making love.
Anyone would have felt creepy watching someone else, and anyone would have noticed someone watching them, but none of that happened. The sun should have cast a shadow on you, but it didn't. The passerby should have called you out, but they didn’t.
You had just enough awareness to realize that this was a dream. How were you back at home already? Why were you and William kissing?
While originally you felt nothing, like a simple observer without thoughts, you were suddenly flooded with heavy emotions. Confusion, shame, lust, confusion.
But in just a few moments, the world around you crumbled, like an earthquake, and the sun and moon passed by, stars moving across the heavens, and you were warped by time, back in the same place you were before.
+++
You woke up with a gasp, cold sweat running down your body, and immediately William was by your side. You rested your head on his chest, grasping onto his shirt desperately, not wanting him to leave.
“Shh, shh,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair.
“Sorry,” you muttered, making no effort to leave his side. “I don’t know . . .”
“Shh.”
You both were like this for a while. Faint images of your dream passed through your mind, and from what little you remembered, you assumed it had been a wet dream.
I can’t believe it, you thought. Having a wet dream — about a guy I barely met. Control yourself!
You pulled away, already missing his warmth. William frowned a little but didn’t say anything. “What’s your name, darling?” he asked.
You hesitated.
“I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“[Y/n],” you finally told him. “Where are we?”
William narrowed his eyes. You had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, but you didn’t want to press.
“Wales,” William answered.
You froze. How the fuck did you get to Wales? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.
“Um, that’s nice,” you said awkwardly. “How long has it been since you found me?”
“A few days.”
You tried not to panic, but all you could think about was your job and your friends and your family. Have you been reported missing yet?
“You must be hungry,” William said. “I’ll cook something for you. I’m not the best, but I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”
“It’s alright.” You waved his concern off, though it did tug at your heartstrings that he was worried. “I'll get some fast food.”
You dug through your pockets, hoping your wallet was still in there. Thankfully it was. You pulled it out and grabbed two crisp twenty-dollar bills, but William hissed and pushed it back in, his hand not leaving yours.
“What are you doing carrying around that much money?” he asked, giving you an incredulous look. “How are you meant to protect yourself? Where’d you get that? Do you have a husband?”
You pushed his hand away. “I work. And what’s the problem?”
You knew that the American dollar wasn’t equivalent to a British pound, but was the difference that bad? Sure, forty dollars was a lot of money if you were just going to a gas station or something, but nothing to get excited over.
William huffed. “You can’t just show me that much money like that. What if I was a thief, hmm? What would you do then?”
“Are you?” you asked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal out of it.
“No. I’m a gentleman.”
You scoffed, amused, but there was a little smile on your face. “A gentleman?”
“Yes,” he insisted. “A proper man.”
There was a moment of silence between you both. You wanted him to hold you again, but you thought it would be best if you just went on your way.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, getting up from the bed. “And bandaging me and all.” You gave him one of the bills. “I know it’s in dollars, but I’m sure you can convert it.”
William didn’t take the money. “You’re not leaving — you’re still hurt. I’d be remiss if I let a lass half as pretty as you alone on the streets.”
You chalked up his way of talking to the region. You honestly found it quite attractive. That, coupled with his British accent, made you feel like you were in one of those romance movies. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t in love with you and that you were just acting irrational and horny.
“I’ll be fine. We’ll exchange numbers, do you have a charger?”
“What?”
“A phone charger. My phone’s probably dead.”
“The box?”
You narrowed your eyes. “No, the rectangle. The phone.”
“Ah, the one that glows?”
You briefly wondered if he simply didn’t know what a phone was. You knew some people preferred not to have modern technology in their life.
“Yes. I need to call someone — ”
“ — It stopped glowing.”
Great. William obviously didn’t have a charger. And if he didn’t know what it was, no one nearby would. All that was next to do would be to walk to a big city and hope someone there could help you get back home.
“Look, darling.” You ignored the way your heart fluttered when he called you that. “I don’t know what a phone is, or why you’re here, but I know that you still need to recover.”
“I appreciate it,” you said. “But I really have to go. I have work and — ”
“ — Surely you can take a day off. What is it you do?” William asked.
“I’m a software developer. I code.”
William had a blank face. A pink blush dusted his cheeks. He cleared his throat, “I, er, I’ve never heard of that. You mean computers? The big ones that take up a room?”
“No, it’s not the fifties.”
“Well, 1946 is close.”
You didn’t know what to make of that. “What does 1946 have to do with this?”
William observed you intently. “The year. The year is 1946.”
You blinked. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be the 20th century — that was impossible. So many things were wrong with that. How come it was you who traveled in time? Why didn’t the government know about this? Even if you were ignoring the question of how, there were still so many whys.
“No,” you said slowly, inching away from William. What kind of sick prank was this? He was supposed to be helping you, not confusing you. “You’re messing with me.”
William sensed that you were uncomfortable, because he backed away, his hands in the air. You could tell he was waiting for the perfect moment to get closer.
“I’m not a liar . . . Are you from the future?”
Fuck. You weren’t sure. How could that even be possible?
“No,” you said hesitantly. “I dunno, I must be . . .”
Your eyes subtly peered past William and at the door. If only you could get past him . . .
You looked straight at the window, making sure to grab his attention. “Oh,” you whispered, putting on your best shocked expression. The moment he was distracted you sprinted past him and bolted out of the room and out the house, running across the field to the next house you could see. Your arm still hurt, but you were willing to shove down the pain.
“No, no, please!” William shouted, running after you.
In just a minute, he had caught up to you and tackled you to the ground. He pinned your hands above your head and sat on your lower stomach, rendering you useless. His lips were so close to yours, and the look on his face was pissed.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice forceful, gripping onto your wrists tighter.
“P-please,” you pathetically sputtered out. “Don’t hurt me.”
He didn’t budge. “I’m trying to help you — I’m not lying to you, and I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re hurting me now,” you cried, squirming.
William’s eyes softened as he realized what he was doing. “You promise not to run again?”
You nodded, your lower lip wobbling.
“Alright.”
He still didn’t let go of you, but he did pull you up from the ground, wiping the dirt off of your back. Tears flowed down your cheek like rainwater, and you couldn’t help but curl in on yourself.
William held onto your arm as he walked you back to the house, not allowing you another chance of escape, but he did wipe your tears gently and soothe you. You felt embarrassed. Why did you run? You had acted purely on instinct there. This man was clearly only trying to help.
“Look,” he said softly, sitting you back down on the bed like a child. “I’ll take you into town, hmm? Show you around and all — maybe that’ll convince you. You must be quite far into the future to be dressing like that and to have a . . . phone with you, so things will be different, right? What year are you from?”
“. . . 2023.”
“I knew it. On your phone, there was a date. I wasn’t sure then, but . . .” William suddenly reached his hands up and rubbed his thumb across your chapped lips, catching you off guard. “They’re dry,” he said. “I’ll draw up a bath for you so you can bathe while I cook. I’ll get you some lotion afterward.”
You nodded. What else could you do?
+++
William had cooked some simple fish and chips while you cleaned yourself. You had to use a tin tub, which was insane to you, but you didn’t complain about it. He supplied you with clothing, an old-fashioned dress his mother had accidentally left here. You were grateful it was not from some ex-girlfriend or wife, even though you had no right to feel that way. You put aside your other clothes to wash later.
After finishing with that, you sat down at the dining table, and like the hungry girl you were, you gobbled the food down eagerly. It was so fresh and delicious, not at all like the food you had in the future, pumped with chemicals and artificially bred. You tried to be as neat as you could, but it was difficult when you were starving. William had watched on with amusement, telling you to slow down and straighten your back every once in a while.
He took the plates away when you both were done, and then did as he promised and gave you some lotion, but instead of letting you apply it, he took a bit of cream on his fingers and rubbed it on your lips. “Stay still,” he murmured.
“I-I can do it—”
“No, you can’t. You’re still injured.”
You understood his reasoning. And you didn’t mind him touching you like that.
“The rest of my body is dry, too,” you blurted out.
What were you thinking? You didn’t even know this man. Trying to get him to touch the rest of your body — stupid girl.
William’s breathing hitched. “As in . . . your knees as well?”
“. . .”
He cleared his throat. “Well, then. Put them out, over my lap.”
You bit your lower lip, watching on as he rubbed his hands over your legs. His touch was so warm and it felt more like a massage. You felt bad about doing this, leading him on. If he was right about the time travel, then you couldn’t entertain any sort of relationship with him. It wouldn’t be fair.
But it was just an act of service. It didn’t mean much, right?
“Oh, that’s nice,” you said, resting your head on the bed. You felt a bit off allowing a random man to do this to you, but he wasn’t random now, was he? He had saved you. And besides, he was he who insisted he rub the lotion in the first place.
“What is the future like?” William asked. “Is there another war?”
“Sort of. Not really,” you answered, which panicked William. “Don’t worry. If you’re talking about America and Russia, no one dies.”
William chuckled. “I should hope not. I don’t fancy serving in another world war.”
“You served?” you asked curiously.
“Yes. As a captain in the British Army.”
You supposed it was normal. Most men in this time either signed up for the military or were drafted. You couldn’t imagine the horrors William must have gone through. You would never be able to understand the trauma he carried with him. You were curious, but you knew better than to ask. He didn’t need your pity, and you certainly didn’t want to offend him.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“For what?”
“That it had to happen. War and all that.”
“Does war not happen in the future?”
Now you felt a little stupid.
“Well — yes. It does. I’m just sorry. We learned about the world wars in history — and I just — I’m not claiming to know anything. Yeah, sorry.” You looked down.
William didn’t say anything to that. He just kept rubbing your dry skin. Afterward, he put the lotion away and sat next to you, running his fingers through your hair.
“I expect stories from you. I want to hear everything about the future.”
You still didn’t believe you were in the past, at least, not completely.
“You can tell me as we pass through town,” he added.
“I need to wash my clothes first.”
Willian narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to wear that anymore.”
“Why not?”
He pursed his lips. “It’s too revealing. A woman should never go out wearing those types of clothing.” He sighed. “Perhaps it’s different in the future, but here, you’ll get hurt if you dress like that.” He continued playing with your hair. “I want you to be safe. So, you have to promise me that you’ll stay by my side at all times, yes?”
You nodded. You always thought that if you caught men talking to you like this, you would slap them, but here you were, turned on by William’s sexism. It was different, you reasoned. He was more focused on protecting you than restricting you. Was it bad that you found that hot?
“Good girl,” he said proudly. “Good girl.”
+++
Walking through town had been more of a frightening experience than you expected. You realized, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were indeed in the past. Producing a prank with this level of investment and money was pointless, and you never had any mental issues in the past, so why would one suddenly show up now? And even if it did, you couldn’t possibly be imagining this all in your head.
All the cars were shiny and new, yet old models, ones that wouldn’t be produced in the future. All the women and men wore traditional clothing, like the dress William picked out for you. The hairstyles were medium-length and curled, or slicked back, with lots of gel and products used to keep them in place. You were grateful William didn’t ask you to do any of that. Not that you would have let him. At a certain point, you would have drawn a line.
“I have to get back,” you told William as you walked on a trail. “The machine has something to do with it. I just have to figure out how it works.”
“That’s an engineering job,” he pointed out.
“I’m good at math and science. I work in advanced technology, so I should be able to figure something out. All it needs is a bit of testing . . . I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while until I figure out a place to stay. I’ll give you all the money I have and I promise I’ll find a job — ”
“ — No need. Stay as long as you like. I don’t want your money. I won’t stop you from finding a job, but it’s not necessary. I can handle any expenses.”
You didn’t argue with him. He didn’t seem averse to the idea of letting a stranger stay at his place. It made sense. People in this time were more hospitable and open (at least, when they felt like it), and William, being a man from the forties, would never allow you to carry any of the financial burden.
You still felt a little bad.
“Thank you. It means a lot to me. Now, what is it you want to hear about the future?”
William’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Do flying cars exist?”
You chuckled. “No. But we have self-driving ones.”
“Self-driving? How do they work?”
You paused. You had no idea. “I’m not sure. They probably have sensors to detect other cars. And, well, there’s a map. So it’s connected to a satellite . . .”
“Satellite?”
“It’s this thing in space. It does . . . stuff. It’s manmade.”
“Space? Have we discovered alien life?”
“No. But we have sent rovers to Mars and we’ve landed a person on the moon.”
William stopped walking. “The moon?” he repeated, bewildered. “Have you gone?”
I wish. “It’s only for astronauts. You have to be trained for that sort of stuff.”
“And when did this all happen?”
“Around the 1960s. There was a space race between America and Russia, and America won.”
Once you got the ball rolling, William would not stop asking questions. You answered them as best as you could and avoided topics like the current political climate and weaponry and all that. After he was done with all the serious stuff, like advancements in science and whether robots had taken over the world yet, he moved on to more social and cultural topics. You were relieved to find out that he wasn’t racist or homophobic or incredibly misogynistic. If anything he was rather tame about it all, and was glad that women had earned more rights, though he seemed upset that the dynamic of a gentlemanly husband and lady-like housewife wasn’t pushed upon society.
“There’s nothing wrong with things going the opposite way around,” he had said. “Two people of the same gender marrying. It’s only that women need to be looked after, and if she doesn’t want to work, then it is her man’s obligation to do it for her. And in return, she must be obedient and serve him whenever he pleases — whether it’s by cleaning the house or . . . other things.”
“And what if she doesn’t want it?” you questioned, referring to the other things.
“A man should always make sure she likes it.”
You could practically feel all the feminism leaving your body at that.
The conversation ended when you reached back home (home? It’s not your home, you reminded yourself). William replaced your bandages with care. You were already starting to feel better, since the cut wasn’t too big, and you offered to help with cooking dinner this time.
After that, you decided to tinker with the box.
It was made out of some type of metal, with two different dials on the top and a button on the side. But it wasn’t like anything you’d ever seen before. The first dial went from zero to nine (zero being nulla) in Roman numerals, and had four hands, each of them colored in order: red, green, blue, and yellow. Respectively, there were four tiny colored knobs on the side, like the ones by a watch, where you could move each hand. The other dial was the same case.
“It must be the date,” you said aloud to yourself. “But which is which?”
Taking a gamble, you pressed the button, but it didn’t do anything. All it did was signal a small lens to start blinking red.
“Are you sure you should do that now?” William asked, coming up from behind you. “Look at this.” He crouched to your level on the floor. “Your eyes have bags underneath them. You’re still tired.”
You rubbed the area beneath your eyes. Did they really have bags? You hadn’t realized.
“I should probably go to sleep then,” you said, putting the box down and getting up.
William walked you over to the bedroom, and was about to leave when you asked, “Where are you sleeping?”
“The couch.”
You frowned. “It’s your house and I’m your guest. You’ve already done so much for me – ”
“— If you’re going to suggest you sleep on the couch, then it’s a no. That’s final.”
“But — ”
“ — Final.”
You sighed. “Then come sleep with me. I’ll stay on the floor—”
“ — No—”
“ — Then we can share the bed. We’ll put a wall of pillows between us, like this.” You grabbed a pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed, separating the two sides. “Not so bad, see?”
William relented. “Alright.”
He crawled into bed with you. His hair fell over his face as he adjusted, and the last rays of sunlight coated his body in colors of orange and yellow. If your phone wasn’t dead, you would have asked him to sit still for a picture, because at this moment, he truly looked breathtaking. He was a beautiful man. You wondered if he knew it.
“What?” William asked when he noticed you staring.
Flustered, you turned your head to look up at the ceiling. “Nothing. I was just making sure you were comfy.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see William lick his lower lip.
“You’re a sweet lass,” he commented. “You always think about others first.”
He reached over, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you (which, admittedly, despite having had a wet dream about him, scared you), but he only brushed a small speck of dust off your shoulders and murmured “Goodnight”, before burying his chin into the blanket and drifting off into sleep.
You followed in suit soon after. A part of you was hoping that you could start a life here. You’d buy a nice house and live out a simple and peaceful life. You and William didn’t even have to be romantically involved. You could just be friends, and you would be happy with that.
But a part of you also hoped that when you woke up the next morning you would be back in your own bed, in your small one-story house that you remember being so excited about buying. You knew you would never like living here in the long term. There were too many things wrong with this time and you didn’t want to be the brunt of its issues. Not only that but being aware of all the tragedies that would soon occur . . . Did you want to be faced with the moral dilemma of whether or not you should stop them? How would your presence affect things in the future? After living your whole life in 2023, you could never adjust to life in 1946.
You had to find a way back. There was simply no other choice.
+++
William showed you many things. Just as he was interested in the future, you were interested in the past. The things that excited you most of all were old-school versions of what you had in the future. Washing machines, refrigerators — they were all so different, yet the same, and it was fascinating.
You even met a few people in town. They were nice enough to hold a conversation with, though they found it weird that you lacked decorum and the social understanding of the time. The women were chatty and mildly passive-aggressive, and the men — well, the men flirted with you quite openly.
William had told people that you were family, someone related but not close enough to be bothered with technical terms like cousin or niece. No one asked questions when you two explained it like that. All the men must have thought that if you were his family and that if you had no ring on your finger you must be looking for a partner.
You were charmed by their advances, but never serious about them. Besides, William hardly let them get a word in before he shooed them away.
By the time weeks and weeks had passed you became acquainted with everyone, seen every sight to see — including the swan lake William took you to — and become close enough to William that he opened up to you. You learned that while he wasn’t an orphan, his parents never held much interest in him other than the occasional birthday letter, and the reason he came out here so far away from the city was to find peace of mind.
You grew to admire him, and you were sure he grew to admire you, too. And soon, you started to feel a certain type of way. A way that made you daydream about all the things that could be, only for reality to stomp across it and remind you of the harsh truth.
+++
William was driving a car, a modern car, your car. He was humming a little tune on the radio, singing some lyrics, hands loosely holding the wheel as he passed by a gas station. It was some Taylor Swift song, and you remember faintly thinking: Of course, he likes Taylor Swift.
He looked over to you. You were sitting by his side, a passenger princess, looking out the window. All of a sudden it was night and you two were driving down a lonely road, parking by the side of some lake. In the distance, you could hear crickets and ribbits, but you paid them no mind.
You were curled up in William’s arms, looking out the sunroof of the car, the light of the moon gently descending through the glass. You offered him a piece of chocolate, and you two just sat there, in the dark, nibbling on snacks and observing the sky, until you woke up.
+++
William had to leave for work, like usual. He again told you not to leave his property line or stray out too far, which, again, was fine by you because most days were cold and bitter.
You spent your time messing around with the box, careful not to touch the wires in the back. Once you put your mind to it, you figured out how it worked. You paid attention to where the hands were currently located and found something promising. The first dial’s hands had the numbers I, IX, IV, and VI, and the second dial was nulla, IX, nulla, and V. Alone, you wouldn’t have been able to tell what the numbers meant, but with context, you understood. The first dial was the year, and the second one was the month and date.
You didn’t quite understand how the box brought you from the future, but that didn’t matter, as it was broken. There was a little loose piece on the backside that had been damaged — a little dent, probably when you were first transported here. All you had to do was plug it back in, but the only problem was, you didn’t have a screwdriver, and you certainly weren’t going to wrench your fingers near a bunch of wires.
When William came back you told him your solution. He agreed and said that tomorrow he would take you to a local store to buy a screwdriver, and he even apologized for not having one in his house. But for now, he said he wanted to take you out to lunch.
“Lunch?” you questioned nervously. Was he asking you out on a date?
You thought about it for a moment. You did want to go, but your mind was too preoccupied with getting back to your time. Besides, it wasn’t fair to him. You did like him, but you two could never actually be together. It was all in your head.
It’s all in your head.
“You know I’ll have to go back someday,” you said, watching William’s expression become more neutral as if he was hiding his emotions. “I dunno . . . I’m getting a little attached to you,” you said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
William seemed to understand where you were going with this. “It won’t be like that. I wouldn’t blame you,” he said earnestly, taking a step forward. “We ought to enjoy our time together, while it’s still here.”
He made a valid point, enough to convince you. He had been doing that an awful lot. Convincing you.
William took you out to a nice restaurant. The food was a bit plain, but it was good and wholesome. It reminded you a lot of William’s cooking, only fancier and more well-presented. Not only that, but the atmosphere felt calming and almost romantic. You noticed that most of the people here were couples, holding hands and giggling with each other, however young or old.
Was this William’s intention? Did he like like you? Or was this just him being courteous? You couldn’t imagine that many people here were used to dating or one-night stands. But you wouldn’t know unless you asked him, and you were too nervous to do that. Besides, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. William was a very traditional man, would he even want a woman like you? A 21st-century girl?
After you two were finished eating you engaged in another walk.
“Come closer,” William said, holding out his arm for you to take. If you didn’t have any self-control, you would have jumped his bones right then and there. He was right. He was a gentleman. No man in the future would have done this for you unless they were trying to make a joke out of it.
You placed your hand on William’s arm hesitantly, trying to figure out the exact placement, walking side by side with him. It was a little cold, however, and you shivered, catching William’s attention almost instantly.
“Oh, you poor thing,” William cooed, talking of his coat and wrapping it around you. It smelled of him, a little musky, smoky like a cigarette, but in a very subtle way. “You’re so nervous. Have you never had a man do this for you?” he asked. “Hold out his arm for you to take, give you his coat?”
“No,” you admitted. “Men don’t do that in the future.”
“I do,” he said, stopping both of you in your tracks. The area was secluded, mostly covered in trees and bushes, far away from any passerby. “I would do that for my woman.”
It was quiet for a moment.
“Well,” you said, wistfully, “whoever she is she’ll be a lucky woman.”
+++
William took you to a local shop to buy a screwdriver next. It all felt very domestic, something that you could get used to. You imagined running errands like this with William in the future. He would be absolutely fascinated by a grocery store, by the internet, by everything. If you thought hard, you could see it — a wondrous smile on his face, a giggle escaping his lips.
You tried not to think of it that much. After your fantasy passed your thoughts turned sad and cold, because you knew that would never happen. It will never happen. As much as you liked William, you missed your family, you missed your house, you missed everything.
When you both got back home, you plugged the broken piece in and screwed the nail. William watched on beside you, a frown on his face, drinking some tea.
“Here,” he said, inching closer, “I don’t want you exerting pressure on your arm. Let me do it.”
He grabbed a hold of the screwdriver, but he bumped into you in the process. With a gasp, he dropped his cup of tea. It shattered across the floor, glass pieces flying every, hot liquid (thankfully not boiling) splashing all over. You shrieked and backed away, watching as one of the glass shards cut right through one of the wires.
“William!” you snapped, but then your eyes turned watery, because of the cut on your hand.
He immediately went over to you, careful not to step on any glass, and picked you up bridal style, moving you away from the mess and towards the couch.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, looking panicked. “It was an honest mistake — I’m so so sorry, I can’t believe I just did that — are you hurt?”
You laughed at the absurdity of it all, even though you were clutching your finger in pain. It was a very small cut, something that would be healed within a day. “Calm down, William. I’m fine. Are you hurt?”
He shook his head, looking worried, or perhaps, scared was the right word. Yet, you couldn’t figure out why.
“William,” you said slowly. “It’s fine. You do realize we can just fix the wire? I just need a heat-shrinking tube and a soldering iron, nothing I haven’t done before.”
“. . . Oh.”
His tone made you wonder about his intentions. You’d been so caught up on how good of a person he was, helping you and giving you room and food, but really, what was his motive? Because it almost felt like he was trying to get you to stay . . . It sent a sinister feeling down your spine, albeit a tug on your heartstrings as well.
What do you want from me, William? What do you want?
+++
More time had passed. It was difficult to acquire things in this small town, and it occurred to you that such resources were not readily available at this time. You didn’t want to bother William by pestering him to go into the city for materials, so while you would bring up the topic every once in a while, you mostly kept quiet.
You took the chance to relish your break. After all, you weren’t working. It was like a fully paid vacation, so you might as well take advantage of it.
William still had a job, but when he came back, you two would just talk and talk and talk, conversations so smoothly flowing that it felt like you’d known him for years. When you weren’t talking, you were still in each other’s presence, doing your own thing. Occasionally, William would make sneaky moves like wrap his arm around your shoulder, or do the la bise. He claimed he was part French, and it was part of his custom, but even if that were true, you knew the la bise didn’t involve full-on smooches on the cheek.
You never stopped him from doing things like that, but you also never reciprocated, despite how badly you wanted to. All this stalling wouldn’t change the fact that you still had to leave. Not only that, but you were starting to feel homesick.
You missed calling your friends late at night, you missed watching colored TV, and you missed hot showers. You missed easy-access painkillers for your periods, and searching all your queries on the internet. You missed the future. Badly. And you could just feel that the day of return was near.
+++
“You dance, yes?”
Snapped out of your thoughts, you turned to William. You were both lounging on his couch, relaxing, talking, as the time passed by. He had given you a magazine to read, but you weren’t reading it, just dozing off.
You shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve gone to clubs. But — no, I can’t dance like that — William,” you whined, half-heartedly struggling as he pulled you up to you feet. “I’m going to ruin it, I don’t know where to place my feet or — ”
“ — You could never ruin anything, darling. Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me.”
You looked away. “You can’t say things like that, William.”
“Why not?”
You took his hands off you before he could even start the music.
“I don’t like it,” you lied.
William frowned. “That’s alright. Let me hold you. I know you enjoy that.” He chuckled. “When we first met you wouldn’t let go of me.”
The memory, still fresh in your mind, made you flustered.
“. . . William, what do you want from me?” you decided to ask.
He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean — what do you want from me?”
William licked his lower lip. “Nothing. I just want to take care of you.”
“But why?”
You could practically feel William’s nervousness. It was like when he dropped that glass. He radiated an almost jumbled energy, a desperate energy.
“Haven’t I made it more obvious?” he finally said, his hands on your waist. He brought his fingers up to brush the hair out of your face. “Am I not clear?”
You knew what he was going to say. But you wanted to hear it from him. “Clear about what?”
“I want you.” Your heart started beating. “I don’t care if you’re not from this time. I don’t care if you have a life in the future — I can be better. I can be your life.”
“. . . William.”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” he said, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eyes. “I know you want me too. I can see it.”
“But we can’t,” you weakly protested.
“So is this what you do?” His tone grew more sharp. “Imagine things in your head and never act on them?”
You stayed silent. He was putting you in such a difficult position, couldn’t he see that?
“What’s wrong?” he continued. “Am I not good enough?”
“William,” you tried to pull away. “I have to go — ”
He locked you in his arms. Your body was so close your noses were brushing up against each other, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe you’re worried I can’t please you right.”
You could have shouted. Why was he being so forceful? You ignored the way your body grew warm — you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t and so you wouldn’t.
“I don’t want it,” you lied again.
“Well, I told you, a wife should always submit to her husband’s desires.”
“We’re not married!”
“We will be.”
You froze.
William took your silence as an opportunity. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, turning his head slightly as his hand rested on the back of your head. You were caught off guard but didn’t try to push away. It felt so nice, and warm and inviting. Why you were denying yourself this? Why were you denying yourself love?
When your lips parted, a string of saliva connecting you both, you placed your hands on his chest. You had an idea. A brilliant idea. Why hadn’t you thought of this before? “William. I still have to go, but — ”
He growled and lifted you up, carrying you over to his bedroom, tossing you onto the bed, and pinning you down on the mattress. “No. I won’t let you. I won’t let you! Don’t you understand? I’m perfect for you — I can — I can.” He looked miserable. In fact, he looked like he was about to cry. “Let me show you,” he said, determined. He started unbuckling his belt with one hand. “Let me show you what I can do.”
You hadn’t realized how hard William was, but when he finally took out his cock — fat and pale, with pre-cum leaking at the tip, his balls a little hairy, you gulped, the area between your legs getting wetter.
“Take off your panties,” he ordered. “And lift up that damn dress.”
You didn’t. To be honest, you were a little frightened by his behavior.
William sighed and did it for you, spreading your legs apart, only for you to shut them close. “You don’t even have a condom!”
“I’ll put out,” he said impatiently, forcing your legs apart again. You gasped, not expecting contact to be made so soon.
He rubbed his cock against your wet cunt, soaking himself. He had this satisfied smile on his face, eyes closed for just a moment, before he looked down at you.
“I thought I’d have to warm you up a little,” he said. “You’re beau — stop it! Don’t struggle.”
He held your arms down as you writhed. “Please, William — I believe you,” you said. “You can fuck me good. Just listen — ”
William shook his head. “You’re the one who's supposed to listen. Listen and take it.”
With that, he pushed his cock in and started thrusting, hard and fast, your hands still pinned, his face contorted in pleasure. His moans were loud and shameless. He had his head right above yours, peppering small kisses on your lips. You tried to ignore how good it felt — him inside of you, but it was becoming increasingly difficult by the moment.
“Ah, I knew you weren’t a virgin,” he said, noticing the lack of blood or discomfort. “That’s okay — I still love you.”
“Love?” you repeated, trying to focus, but your abilities were lost when he used his thumb to rub your clit. “Wa-a-it!”
“Don’t say that,” William said, his tone surprisingly soft given how rough his movements were. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you didn’t want it. Just enjoy. Enjoy me.”
The bed was starting to creak, moving back and forth, rubbing up against the wood floor. Your breasts were bouncing, catching William’s eyes every once in a while. His cock slid in and out of you with precision, hitting that swollen part inside of you every time. His thumb on your clit only added to the intense sensation.
Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stopped struggling. You let your head hit the pillow, mouth parted, breathing heavy and hot. At the same time, you were overcome with a feeling of hurt. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it, but for him to take you so forcibly . . . and for you to actually like it . . .
“Are you alright?” he asked, slowing down his pace a little. He looked you in the eyes. “Do you feel good?”
You thought about lying, about crying out No, please stop!, but that wasn’t the truth, and in the end, your desires overcame you. “Y-yes. I want more.”
William relaxed, and his grip on you loosened. He placed one hand on your hip, the other by the side of your head.
“You’re beautiful,” he praised. “Every day I look at you and think of how grateful I am that I found you. Laying there in that field, little flowers around you. An angel. My angel.”
You wanted to tell him how grateful you were, too. That it was him who took you in and not someone else, but the words never came out, only sighs and moans, but he seemed to understand what you were trying to say.
Another kiss.
“You’re soaking me. You’re soaking the sheets.”
A little embarrassed, you turned your head. “M’sorry.”
William forced you to look back at him. “Don’t be sorry. I like knowing how eager you are for me.”
Another kiss, but this time he slipped his tongue in, sweeping against yours before he pulled away, a string of saliva breaking as he did.
“We’ll live here,” he continued, his thrusts becoming more erratic, “in this house. Together. I’ll take you to the movies, we’ll have picnics in the garden, and I’ll write you love songs on the piano. We’ll have children — a girl, I hope — and she’ll look just like you. It’ll be wonderful,” he promised. “I’ll make you so happy, and you’ll make me happy, too.”
You couldn’t help but ruin the moment. “If I did that I would never see my parents again.”
He frowned and didn’t say anything. Then, “I think you’re getting agitated. You need to come, that’s it. You need to come and then you’ll finally understand what it is you’ll be missing out on if you leave.”
“T-that’s not the point — ”
“ — I’m so close,” he murmured. “Fill you up, so damn tight. Ah, you’re perfect.”
When you realized what he meant your eyes widened and you shook your head adamantly. “You said you’d pull out!”
“That was before. I’ve changed my mind.”
You felt familiar pressure build up inside of you. You could imagine yourself, breasts big with milk, belly round and smooth, William reading children’s books to your unborn baby as if he could be heard. The thought alone made you sickly sweet, the idea that life between you and him could be so domestic.
But couldn’t he just wait for a moment?
“I’ll — ah — be with you — every step of the way,” he grunted. “I won’t leave you. So, don’t be scared.”
“William,” you said shakily. “Just listen — ”
But it was too late. Collapsing on top of you, William poured his hot seed inside your cunt, his whimper addicting, like it was something you could hear a thousand times over. A few seconds later, you fell victim to the same fate, and there you two lay, with each other, chests heaving, bodies sweaty and sticky, coming down from the heights of ecstasy.
You could feel his heart pound against yours. Thump, thump, thump. And you could feel yours as well. To think that this man had just gotten you pregnant. It all happened so quickly. It happened so quickly and you were completely fine with it.
“William,” you said after finally catching your breath, turning to face him. “You know I still have to go.”
It was his turn to cry. His tears watered up, glassy, his lower lip trembling, but you could tell he was doing his best to keep it in. “But I love you,” he whispered. “Am I not enough?”
It broke your heart to see him like this. So vulnerable in front of you. It was then you knew you were making the right choice, a hundred percent. You had finally found your match. And to think that you almost let him go . . .
“But I want you to come with me,” you said, hopeful. “Come with me, William. Come with me to the future.”
Taglist: @henrywintersdearestgirl @shroombloom-rry @meetmeatyourworst @mrkdvidal1989 @madnessandobsession @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @madeinuk
#william killick#william killick x reader#william killick x you#william killick x y/n#cillian murphy#fanfiction#the edge of love#pinguwrites
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How about this: After some especially rough missions, Ghost is on edge, his mental health hanging by a thread. Of course he doesn't admit it and powers through training and everything, but everyone knows he needs help, something to balance him out again.
Even the doctors are on their wits ends with him at this point, so they try a new approach and assign him to some animal assisted therapy. OF COURSE he hates the idea - waste of time and he is fine anyway...
So reader and their animal are invited to base to try and help him. (Or reader is the team mate, and the therapist an additional character - how ever, you know best.) I'll leave to you which animal it will be. ;-)
Ghost & Peppa (the dog)
Anon, hold my purse while I fill this with warnings:
Brief mentions of war
Mentions of physical & emotional trauma
This story is purely fictional and should not be considered an accurate representation of the practices and/or effects of Animal-Assisted Therapy
I did NOT cry while writing this. I’m fine.
——————————————————————
He’s fine. Of course, he is.
Nothing wrong with collecting mutilated bodies after a bomb explosion—It’s part of the job.
What about him getting shot? Ah well, it got him on his shoulder—that doesn’t count. It wasn’t life-threatening, according to him. He was fine.
He had to talk to someone. You all tried to pass the idea to him. Everyone except Gaz, who didn’t want to get involved since he, too, was going through some shit.
Soap told him straight away. “Mate, you need to talk to somebody”.
“I got nothing to say”, was his response.
Price was more subtle. Such a tactful guy, your captain. He tried to bring the subject up by sharing his own therapy experiences.
“Opening up and feeling vulnerable was difficult,” he said, “but I pushed through.”
But all he received was a shrug and a stern “glad it worked out for you. I’m fine.”
And you? You tried to cheer him up, calm him down, make him talk.
Nothing.
For the past two months, he has been training daily, hitting that punchbag and bench pressing like a maniac. He was pushing his physical limits, attempting to lift barbells equal to his weight, and you were looking at a person struggling to lift the weight of his conscience.
But he was fine.
Until Gaz came one day and pitched an idea to the captain: “Animal-assisted therapy” they called it. The doctors assigned it to him, and it helped. So, why not give it a try with Ghost?
The lieutenant hated the idea. Hated it. Why? Because “it was pointless and stupid” to him.
Plus, he was fine.
But Price placed his thumbs under his shoulder straps and told him it was an order. And nobody messed with the captain when he put his thumbs under his shoulder straps.
The therapist arrived the following week with Peppa, the dog.
“Peppa, like the pig?”
That was Ghost’s first question. And upon the therapist’s first nod, the follow-up question came.
“Why the fuck would you name the dog Peppa?”
The therapist explained that Peppa’s first patient was a little girl who struggled with anxiety. She named her Peppa after the cartoon character, and the name stuck.
Days turned into weeks, and although he initially protested against the therapy sessions, he was now willingly participating in them. Almost looking forward to them.
“Can’t come to training today; got a meeting with Peppa.” He would say.
Such compliance? From Ghost? How?
You all reached a conclusion because you needed an explanation that could make sense—Ghost wasn’t engaging with the therapist as much; he was opening up to the dog.
Peppa became his silent confidante.
He was playing with her and scolding her for eating too fast. Sometimes, he would ask her “why she was so sad” or “so devious” and why she was always drooling. In response, Peppa would just whine, wiggle her tail, or tilt her head, and Ghost would interpret her reactions as he pleased.
Although you could all see the improvement in his demeanour, you still worried about his well-being.
But whenever you asked him how he was, his response remained the same.
He was fine.
You tried to shift the focus and ask how the therapy was going instead. Yet, Ghost would still cling to his standard response.
Fine.
And then, the therapist advised to do something else instead.
“Ask him how Peppa is doing.”
And that simple question, about the dog’s well-being, unveiled the hidden side of his emotions. He would open up, and recount how Peppa was feeling a bit down one day, seemed too scared another day, or ate very little. He projected his own feelings and experiences onto the dog. He used her as a vessel to express his inner turmoil, revealing his struggles in a way that felt more comfortable and less vulnerable to him.
After all, it was the dog’s struggles, not his own.
He was fine.
“Do you think Peppa gets a payslip every month?” you joked one day as you looked at Peppa lying next to Ghost. “For having a job and all?”
“Peppa was a stray, you know; she always fought to survive.” he replied, kissing her head, “poor thing.”
“Poor thing,” you repeated, this time looking at him.
He knew he wasn’t fine. You all knew.
But Peppa didn’t pressure him to do or say anything.
She wouldn’t urge him to “talk to somebody” or “try meditation.”
She would insinuate, in her own way, that she was there for him.
Looking at him with her tongue out and a wide smile across her face.
Whining and demanding more pets.
Giving him the ball so they can play fetch.
Reminding him that caring for himself was just as important as those gentle scratches behind her ear.
“We’re in this together, human—you will be fine.”
——————————————————————
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#ghost cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost call of duty
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Maybe you celebrate Easter. Maybe you celebrate Trans Day of Visibility. Maybe you celebrate both, or neither. I am here to make those holidays infinitely worse or better, depending on how you look at this post. Special thanks to @squishyowl for giving me the parameters to calculate their (hard) schmeat sizes.
Without further adieu, Primarch cock descriptions. and also kind of how they fugg
LION EL'JONSON- 11 inches, 27 cm. Untrimmed and uncut. He shows a godly amount of restraint to you. Behind closed doors, he's much softer than he lets on. As far as girth goes, he's in the middle of the road... for a Primarch. He may not be the most experienced of his brothers, but he's going to do a thorough job anyways.
???- Dick fell off.
FULGRIM- 10 inches, 25 cm. Long and slender. You may expect a piercing, but he does not want to mar his natural appearance (at least before the Heresy.) Shaves religiously. He likes when his partner can't move, when they squirm underneath him, though he'll have a hard time admitting this.
PERTURABO- 7 inches, 18 cm. The smallest cock on the list, but he more than makes up for it while he is using it. He's got a bit of girth to him, but he can still fit in your mouth. Somewhat. His hands engulf your head as he pushes you down on him. Once he's out, tell him how good he feels.
JAGHATAI KHAN- 13 inches, 33 cm. The fastest one out of the Primarchs as far as each thrust goes. It curves up when erect, not unlike a scimitar. Veiny, but not strikingly so. Even though he's exceptionally fast, he likes being ridden. Especially on his bike.
LEMAN RUSS- 14 inches, 35 cm. He's uncut and hairy down there, he's never shaved his bush. He's also girthy. But what's most remarkable about him is his knot. This makes it hard for him not to breed his partners, where applicable. He'll hold you down and lock himself in on you, holding you down on him with his massive hands.
ROGAL DORN- 10 inches, 25 cm. He's circumcised and he keeps a clean shave. He's girthy, but not unbearably so. He enjoys tying up his partner and watching them melt as he goes down on them. Ever stoic, his expression rarely changes as he plows through you. Also a fan of doing it in his office.
KONRAD CURZE- 9 inches, 23 cm. Veiny, almost paper white, and uncut. He's not a gentle lover, especially considering his size. Usually there will be blood involved, and usually it is yours. He doesn't normally just use his cock; if he can reach you, he'll be biting you. And if not, he'll draw blood anyways.
SANGUINIUS- 8 inches, 20 cm. Surprisingly girthy, with low-hanging balls. He's uncut, but his bush is usually trimmed. He doesn't just use his cock, he bites where he can and envelopes you in his wings. He's gentle... for the first five minutes. He'll leave the most marks out of any of the Primarchs, prompting you to cover up the day after.
FERRUS MANUS- 17 inches, 43 cm. Lord have mercy. He is the most well-endowed Primarch, with balls to match. He'll hold you down with his cool silver hands as he pushes himself in. He's gentle, far more than he lets on, but he is still a Primarch. He's become quite the aftercare giver.
???- Penis serious, Penis delirious. Penis in the woods, call that penis mysterious
ANGRON- 9 inches, 23 cm. The arena had not been kind, as he is scarred in several places around it. Fortunately, no blade has ever found its way there. He isn't gentle, not one bit, even if he is chained down. The Nails eat at his head, screaming for bloodshed. He thrusts faster in a vain attempt to block out the agony in his head.
ROBOUTE GUILLIMAN- 8 inches, 20 cm, and girthy. Despite his size being closer to normal for a baseline human, it's harder to fit it in due to his circumference. With some lube and determination, though, you can make it work. He likes putting it in you and watching you try to keep your composure before you inevitably slip up.
MORTARION- 11 inches, 27 cm. It's long and gaunt on him, but it's still massive in your hand. He's one of the more sensitive Primarchs, but he'd prefer if that fact were kept under wraps. Gentle touch gets him going like nothing else. And once he gets going, you'll get to bear firsthand witness to the endurance he's known for.
MAGNUS THE RED- The bastard can change his dick size on a whim. He already knows what size would make you feel best, and he can open up more than one hole at once using the Warp. He doesn't even have to touch you to open you up, turning you into an incomprehensible mess in front of him.
HORUS LUPERCAL- 12 inches, 30 cm. The most striking thing about it is the Prince Albert that adorns it, a simple iron thing with a dull shine. Even if by some miracle you're on top, he'll always be the dominant partner, and if you have the ability you are most definitely bearing his children at some point.
LORGAR AURELIAN- 11 inches, 28 cm. You weren't expecting the second shortest Primarch to pack so much, were you? Golden tattoos come close to it, but he hadn't the will to cover himself there. You'll spend a lot of time with him; he'll use his tongue for hours on end before finally gratifying himself.
VULKAN- 10 inches, 26 cm. He's warm all over, and below the belt is no exception. In the cold reaches of space, he's a great comfort. Even if he's not the biggest of the Primarchs, he likes watching you struggle on him. He's girthy, and he likes to choke you with it too. Gives the best aftercare.
CORVUS CORAX- 11 inches, 27 cm. He's long, slender, and he keeps a close shave. He's a gentle lover when you're properly going at it and not hiding your risque behavior while in public. He'll hold your hands and whisper praises into your ear, even if he has to bend himself at an uncomfortable angle.
ALPHARIUS- 8 inches, 21 cm. He's hairless, circumcised, and his balls are almost unnaturally even. You've seen many an Alpha Legion cock, and they all look similar. He likes to finish in his partner, leaving no trace that he was there except for the slightly odd hobble you have the next day.
#warhammer 40k x reader#primarch x reader#lion el'jonson#fulgrim#perturabo#jaghatai khan#leman russ#rogal dorn#konrad curze#sanguinius#ferrus manus#angron#roboute guilliman#mortarion#magnus the red#horus lupercal#lorgar aurelian#vulkan#corvus corax#alpharius#warhammer lobotomy#i take criticism in venmo and paypal. btw
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I have a request my birthday is on March 3 so can you write something with the LDS boys?!?
Hi, thanks for the ask! I wasn't sure what you wanted me to write since I've already done a birthday post so I hope you don't mind what I chose instead! Happy birthday!!
(ps I also gave Caleb a shot as an extra treat I hope that's OK!)
LADS guys when you get injured
Rafayel:
Is furious but he’s not sure at who, you? The wanderer? Himself? He can’t believe it happened, it could have been so much worse, you could have died and what was he doing? Painting peacefully in his studio.
Is very clingy for the next few weeks, appearing at your door to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, and that’s after you had convinced him to not just sleep at your apartment.
When the doctor declares you fit to go back to work Rafayel refuses and makes you go for a second opinion, claiming the first is delusional, claiming you still had a slight limp and if you limped on the battlefield it could get you killed.
Claims he needs to nurse you back to health and he doesn’t tease you as much, he’s quite serious actually.
Tries to make you foods that are good for healing, three meals a day and thinks you don’t notice when he slips out to call the nutritionist he hired and collect the food from the chef.
Xavier:
Everything considered, he would give you the silent treatment while tenderly taking care of you, he’s supposed to be your partner at work and outside of work so why were you out there without him? If he had been there the wanderer wouldn’t have had even the slightest chance of hurting you like it did.
He’s constantly thinking about what could have happened and is more driven than ever to be there when you needed him.
When he did start talking to you again, he made sure to drill into your head how it made him feel for you to not even think of getting his help, that he understood you were strong and capable but that he was always available, he knows he could have made a difference and it’s never too safe to bring back up.
Makes sure you go to doctors’ appointments; he may not take proper care of himself, but everything be damned before he let you work yourself to death with this injury.
Tries to make you food but quickly learns if he wants you to be stationary and comfortable, he should not even approach the kitchen, opting to order the healthiest takeaways he can, sulking a bit you don’t trust him with the oven.
Zayne:
As your doctor he’s startled when you appear with a large injury, but he’s instantly more comfortable when he finds its mainly just superficial, doesn’t stop him from lecturing you about how you could let that happen.
Makes you go through every test he can justify you getting to check there’s no poison or corruption or anything that could risk your life in anyway and pays special attention to your heart.
He’s now more concerned for your safety, especially about if this is going to be more common and starts researching wanderers and whether they were getting stronger or smarter to cause this, start keeping up with any news on wanderer evolution.
Schedules a few more appointments for you than is really necessary but since its large he justifies it as a higher chance of infection because of its location, even though he’s busy he just extends his working hours to see you in a professional capacity or if he can’t do that because of working laws he’ll come see you as soon as his shifts are over to check on it.
When he’s sure you’re healed he reluctantly signs you fit for duty and gives you a stern lecture about avoiding those types of injuries in the future.
Caleb:
Doesn't hear about it for a while because he's occupied by his job, but the second he does he's desperately calling you and texting you, all while booking time off, a flight back and buying you get well soon gifts.
As soon as he's home, he's giving you a big hug asking how you are, what happened, "what does the other guy look like?" in a teasing tone.
Promises he's sticking around for at least a week, preferably until you're feeling better though, and makes you all your favourite food while he's there, insisting you stay at your grandma's while you recover so they can both dote on you.
Let's you talk his ear off, spends the whole time reminiscing with you and doing things you did together when you were younger, just being more careful with you of course.
When you eel better and before he leaves he makes you promise not to get hurt again any time soon, and makes sure you know he'll tease you like crazy if you do, ruffling your hair before he goes.
#Xavier#Xavier x mc#Xavier x reader#Xavier x you#Xavier love and deepspace#Love and deepspace#Rafayel#Rafayel x mc#Rafayel x reader#Rafayel x you#Rafayel love and deepspace#Zayne#Zayne x mc#Zayne x reader#Zayne x you#Zayne love and deepspace#Prompt#answered ask#ask answered#Caleb#Caleb x mc#Caleb x reader#Caleb x you#Caleb love and deepspace
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simon can't be with you anymore.
cw gn!reader , angst , hurt / no comfort, simon doesn't know what he's doing.
notes streets said that it's angstmas !! didn't know that it existed until recently. anyways, since i'm having the worst week of my life, i'm gonna ruin it for simon too.
maybe simon was being stupid.
he probably was. not that he could think of any other options besides leaving you.
his work was too dangerous, and the next deployment was probably going to be his last. especially after the recent briefing he went to where the captain spoke about the upcoming mission — a highly risky one. in fact, even the most skilled like ‘ghost’ was bound to either get severely injured or just die. probably the latter. especially since he wouldn’t be with the rest of the taskforce 141 in the fucking warzone.
just a sacrifice for the better of the world, yeah? even though a part of him didn’t want to. fuck the world. you meant so much more to him. but he had chosen this job right. he had agreed to the mission.
and after all, he never considered himself deserving of you, deserving of this relationship he had with you. he knew he was somewhat of a distant boyfriend — barely opening up about his own feelings or past. at least he had shown you his face. you didn’t deserve someone as dangerous as him, someone so… damaged.
he didn’t want to die knowing that you’d be waiting home, all sad and lonely. he didn’t want to leave you like that, but at the same time, he didn’t want to stay and just watch this sweet bubble you two were in shatter. in both ways, he had to leave you. he had to somehow make this less painful, to make it easier for you to move on.
god, he was an asshole. he knew he was. he spent the week just distancing himself from you, responding to your words with nods and grunts while barely reciprocating to your affectionate touches. his heart was breaking more and more everyday, noticing the pained look in your eyes.
he couldn’t keep doing this for much longer. eventually, he had to end this, and he did.
“we can’t be together.”
his words hit you like a brick. literally on a random friday evening. not so random now, it seemed.
“what do you mean, si…?” your voice got quieter with each word, uncertainty towards your own state of mind flooding inside you while a lump formed in your throat, restraining you from properly even speaking out. your eyes stared at him in pure confusion and heart, noticing how he was cladded in his uniform, how he wore that damn skull mask balaclava — building up those walls again that you had managed to break so easily with your love.
simon hated this. he didn’t want to see you so confused and defeated. he had to stop himself mentally from doing something irrational. he was doing this for you, for your own good. though hearing you call him ‘si’ seemed to somewhat crack his composure.
“look, we can’t be together. s’too dangerous. too risky for you. you never know when i might die.” soon, but he held himself from saying that. you didn’t need to know about his deployment, not at all.
“w-why so sudden?” your voice cracked as you tried to properly make sense of his words, emotions taking off your being while you tried to hold in the tears that had begun to sting your eyes.
too dangerous, too risky — maybe somewhere in your heart, you had known that a day like this would come. simon riley was too careful about safety, too dedicated to his work while simultaneously being madly in love. suddenly, all of his sudden distant behavior made sense, and you felt somewhat stupid. stupid for, well, everything.
he was the plague that had infected you, and now he needed to leave so you could heal.
but you never thought of him like that. he was your rock, the anchor that held you from slipping away into loneliness that had always somehow stuck with you throughout your life, a sting that only simon could soothe. it was simon who would craddle you in his arks every night, it was simon who would listen to your rambles. it was simon who your heart was so willing to give love to.
and now he was going to leave.
simon had expected you to scream, to somehow target your anger and frustrations at him. he wanted you to yell at him, he deserved it.
but you didn’t. you sniffled, beads of tears beginning to roll down your cheeks as you took a wobbly step back, too exhausted to fight back or anything.
you didn’t blame simon. how could you? even now, you couldn’t find a flaw in him. too in love? maybe.
as silence filled the living room of the apartment you used to share with him, he slowly picked up his duffel bag and sighed, trying to keep his brown eyes cold and unfeeling, to make it look like he didn’t feel remorseful, to hide his heart was threatening to tear out of his own skin.
“i’ll always love you, simon…”
you said after a few seconds, causing his head to turn over to look back at you — your eyes teary and puffy while your cheeks were streaked with tears, his hands aching to wipe them away. your voice was weak, reluctantly defeated. you know that there was no point in stopping him.
i’ll always love you too, he mentally thought, though never said.
"one final kiss...?" simon froze at your request, knowing that if he were to look at your face any longer, he'd actually stay. he sighed and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling away, brown eyes hardening up.
he gave you a final nod and exited the apartment from the front door, leaving you alone all over again, your heart torn in pieces as you fell down on your knees, shattering into pieces that no one was going to bother picking up now. only simon could, but he was gone.
simon riley had died three months after that, and you never found out. for you, ge had just disappeared, leaving no traces behind.
just a memory that you were afraid you’d forget eventually, forget his touch and his voice, forget his face — just a memory that was going to bury itself no matter how hard you may try.
#i don't know what i am doing#literally writing everything EXCEPT the simon oneshot i am actually supposed to be writing#evilly ruins simon's life.#teared up while writing this#WHO GETS THE REFERENCE HERE !!#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#call of duty#rurufic
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃
summary: after you hear about Lucy Gray's breakup, you wonder if you'll finally have a chance with her. Of course, your father, the head peacekeeper, can never know you like the 'troublemaker' from the Covey.
warning/s: none i don't think?
author's note: okay so after a million years i finally got this one written, an idea that came to me like a week ago and took forever to write because life lol. I hope you all like it anyway, it’s a three parter and was fun to write :)
something to note - Y/BF/N = your best friend's name and Y/D/N = your dad's name
two / three / masterlist / wattpad
"...and I told him that he shouldn't say stuff he doesn't mean, especially when it's just plain old rude, but of course he didn't care..."
I hummed, nodding along as my best friend, Y/BF/N, rambled about an encounter she'd had with one of her neighbours, but I was also glancing around the hallway casually. It was the end of the school day and I was waiting for Y/BF/N to collect her books from her locker so we could go, but she easily got distracted.
Apparently so did I though, as my eyes fell upon Lucy Gray Baird, a talented musician and outsider in my grade, part of a group called the Covey that everyone either tended to avoid or fell in love with for their musical charm. I always found her fascinating, beautiful, as many others did, but she had a boyfriend which pretty much meant there was no chance there. Still, it didn't hurt to admire her.
She was talking to another member of the Covey, Tam Amber, when she accidentally walked into none other than the mayor's daughter, Mayfair Lipp. It wouldn't have mattered so much if there wasn't a clear tension between both girls.
"If only you could open your eyes like you open your damn mouth," Mayfair snapped at her, making passers-by glance their way, listening in.
"Was an accident," was all Lucy Gray said, and she didn't seem very apologetic.
Mayfair scoffed. "'Course it was. A lot of things with you seem to be, don't they?"
Lucy Gray rolled her eyes as Tam Amber tugged her away, the two girls going their separate ways. Y/BF/N, who had stopped talking to observe the argument with everyone else, tried to stifle her laughter.
"Wow, their hatred for each other does not seem to be going away, does it?" she commented to me.
"Do you know why they don't like each other?" I asked, curious.
Y/BF/N shrugged, closing her locker. "Mayfair's jealous, I think. Dunno why, since she's literally the mayor's daughter and the Covey are just a bunch of weirdos singing for their supper."
"They aren't weird," I corrected her as we walked outside. "They're talented. A little different, is all."
"Same thing," Y/BF/N mumbled. "Don't go saying that to your dad. You know how he feels about them."
I tried not to laugh. "He feels like that about anything fun."
Y/BF/N cracked a smile, before chuckling. "Very true."
My father was the head peacekeeper of our district, a very strict man who was a little too overprotective for my liking. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful for the hard work he put in which meant I could live in the nice part of town and never struggle to have a meal on the table. That was something not everyone in District 12 could count on. But it also meant he hated anything that wasn't to his standard.
He had high hopes for me, hoping I'd land a rare but possible job in the Justice Building when I finished school. It wasn't too far fetched considering I was a straight A student. But he also thought I was a goody two shoes who followed the rules – oh, how that couldn't have been far from the truth. If he ever found out how I snuck out at night to visit the Hob and flirt with most of his unit, I was certain he'd have a heart attack.
Being the head peacekeeper's daughter meant that it was out of my hands when he had to attend something important and I, too, had to be present. For example, today was Mayfair's birthday and the mayor had thrown a formal affair in her honour, of which my family had been invited to.
I tolerated Mayfair, but despite our similar stance in society, we didn't share anything else in common. She was too snarky and easily irritated and always killed the mood, so I remained polite with her and that was it. Her party was as boring as she was, full of the mayor's friends, the odd Capitol resident from her dad's circle, and their kids whom I wasn't sure Mayfair even spoke to. If she had any real friends, they weren't here.
Her home was pretty big, for a District 12 house anyway, which made sense since the mayor was the richest in the district, though poor by any other Panem standard. I kept to myself during her celebrations, occasionally chatting with my mum and her friends or picking at the snacks table. That was until a special performance, dedicated solely to Mayfair from her father himself, was announced. An amused grin fell on my lips when I saw who it was.
The Covey.
"Ladies an' gentlemen, how are we feelin' this afternoon?!" Lucy Gray said into her mic at the front of the space cleared in the huge dining room.
Everybody began to clap as I saw the mayor tugging his daughter to the left of the makeshift stage. To say she was angry was an understatement. But if Lucy Gray had any qualms with the arrangement, she didn't let it show.
"This one's for the birthday girl," Lucy Gray continued, smiling widely at the glaring girl in question. "Happy birthday, dear Mayfair."
After the count of three, the Covey were plucking their strings, banging their drums and joining together in a melodious rendition of 'Happy Birthday', and I tried very hard not to laugh as Mayfair was forced to endure it all. To be fair, the Covey were great, and when they performed several songs after that, half the party were cheering them on, either drunk or genuinely amazed by their talent.
Once they'd finished performing for a moment and took a break, Mayfair stormed off with her father in tow, who was attempting not to draw attention to the mishap with his party guests. Again, I couldn't help but stifle my laughter at the turn of events.
Lucy Gray caught my eyes again though, as she was approaching the snacks table I was sat at the edge of, in search of something.
"You guys performed great out there," I said to her when she was close enough, and she glanced up at me, before recognition flashed across her face and she began to smile.
"Why thank you."
"Bet you loved the gig," I said lightheartedly, and it took her a moment to realise what I was implying when she began to laugh.
"It wasn't ideal," she said in a low yet amused voice, "but a job's a job. And technically Mayfair's daddy hired us, not her."
I chuckled to myself. "Hey, it was pretty funny to witness. I'm not complaining."
She shot me a disapproving look as she tossed a grape into her mouth, but a playful smile was breaking out on her lips.
"I didn't know you and Mayfair were so close," she said with intrigue, flipping the conversation to me.
"We're not," I corrected. "Kind of a package deal when my dad's invited to these things. But your performance certainly made this whole thing worth it."
She began to smile, cheeks turning pink slightly. "You've seen our performances enough times now. You ain't sick of me yet?"
I gasped sarcastically. "Lucy Gray, I could never be sick of you. What nonsense are you talkin' about?"
Her smile widened with amusement, before her eyes flickered behind me. "Your daddy's coming. I should go. Wouldn't want him to find out about your sneakin' out and blame it on me."
"As far as he knows, you're a stranger," I played along with a teasing wink, before straightening up and turning around to face my dad.
I heard Lucy Gray walking away behind me just in time for my dad to smile down at me.
"Y/N, how are you enjoying the party?" he asked.
I smiled innocently. "It's great, dad, thanks for bringing me."
He nodded. "Good, I'm glad."
I glanced over my shoulder as he began to talk about what the mayor was saying to him earlier, searching for the Covey girl. Then I spotted her, talking to her family across the room and also shooting me a glance, her cheeky smile on her lips, mirroring mine.
A little flirting didn't hurt anybody, right?
With my father's job came many responsibilities that meant he had a lot of late nights at their base camp, including the weekend when I sneaked out the house to meet Y/BF/N at the Hob and have some fun. It was difficult at first, making sure I timed it right so my mum would be asleep when I left and also generally sneaking downstairs and out the back door. But the more I did it, the easier it became, and soon enough it was second nature.
By the time I reached the Hob tonight, everything was in full swing. The Covey were performing as usual and everybody was up and dancing. I found Y/BF/N at a table, flirting with some boys from our grade. It didn't take long for me to join them, and between the two of us, we landed free drinks just because we played our cards right.
It was so freeing at the Hob, not having to worry about my dad breathing down my neck or about being such a goody two shoes in his eyes. No, here I could do whatever I wanted. The night was always young and nobody could stop me from having fun.
I found myself dancing around with a peacekeeper, Terrence, who had finished his shift for the day and always happened to be around when I did. He'd been flirting for a while and it was easy to play along, have a little fun.
"It's too bad I can't be lookin' for a wife," he said with a boyish grin as he spun me around. "You'd be my first choice."
I tried not to laugh as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Yeah, that's too bad for you."
"Your dad would kill me if he knew what I was doing," he said, leaning in close for a kiss.
But I tilted his head and pressed one to his cheek instead, before saying in his ear, "Good thing he won't ever find out, right?"
He snorted. "Right."
I smiled contently, before letting him spin me around some more. It was always so easy to do what I wanted here without the fear of it getting back to my father because either everyone was scared of him and what power he held, or they knew it was my word against theirs and my father would never believe them. Besides, I was doing no harm. Some people just wanted a dance and a little flirting, which was exactly what I gave them. What was the big deal?
After finishing my dance with Terrence, I joined Y/BF/N's side again, grabbing her hands and pulling her onto the dancefloor for one final dance for the evening. She laughed, letting me, and we began to chat as we swung about gently.
"How was your dance with Terrence?" she asked with amusement. "You still leadin' the poor boy on?"
"It's not leading him on if he knows it's just a dance," I reminded her. "Besides, it can never happen. He's in my dad's unit. And I don't even like him like that."
"You just flirt with him for fun," she said sarcastically, but I grinned anyway.
"Duh."
Laughing again, she let me spin her around, and then my eyes found sight of Lucy Gray beside the stage. She was talking to her boyfriend, Billy Taupe, the two of them looking awfully cosy with one another. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, knowing it was just an irrational jealousy, nothing more. I'd never even hinted that I'd liked her, and she'd been taken for a while now, but it was easy to wonder what if.
"You're staring," Y/BF/N noticed, before following my gaze. "Ooh, Y/N, you've gotta let that one go. She's trouble, I heard."
"I didn't even say anything," I defended myself.
"You don't need to," she said knowingly. "Your face says it all. And I'm warning you now. It's not worth it."
I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Yeah, yeah, just keep dancing, idiot."
She stifled a chuckle and we got back to it, but not without me stealing one last lingering glance at Lucy Gray.
Of course, after that evening, news of her and Billy Taupe travelled all around school. Rumour had it that he'd cheated on her with Mayfair and, as a result, they'd broken up. Of course it was horrible to hear, but admittedly, the first thing I wondered was did I finally have a chance?
Almost two weeks after hearing the news of Lucy Gray's breakup, I was at the Hob again. I'd been watching the Covey perform all evening, though this time without Billy Taupe who was permanently out of the band it seemed. I'd been waiting for Lucy Gray to be free so I could attempt to make a move.
And after what felt like forever, she finally took to the bar to have some water, and I sucked up a breath before approaching her with a skip in my step.
"Lucy Gray," I started with a smile, earning her attention. "You okay?"
She took a sip before nodding at me. "Yeah, just havin' a break."
"Just a break from singing, right?" I asked, making her quirk a brow. I continued, "Because I'd love to ask you to dance."
A smile grew on her lips, matching the sparkle in her eyes. "I've seen you around, Y/L/N. You probably ask everyone that, don't you?"
I resisted the urge to laugh. "Without sounding big headed, they ask me. So, no, not everyone. Just you. I'd like to dance with you, if you'll have me."
She pursed her lips, eyes flickering between mine considerately and in a way that purposely left me waiting, hoping she'd say yes. Finally, she sighed lightheartedly. "Well, I suppose if you'd like it, who am I to decline?"
My smile widened as I put out my hand and she gladly accepted. The rest of the Covey were playing a song slow enough to have us swaying to the melody, joining the other dancers on the floor.
"You're pretty good at this," Lucy Gray mumbled with amusement, hands wrapped around my shoulders and her head looking over it so I couldn't see her expression.
"Can't be stepping on your toes now, can I?" I said quietly, as to not interrupt the momentary peace that had washed over the Hob. "What sort of impression would that make?"
She snickered. "And why would you be tryin' to make any impression, darlin'? It's just a dance, ain't it?"
A smile crept on my lips. "That it is. But you never know."
She pulled back for a moment, honey-coloured eyes glancing between mine as if trying to decipher my words. I thought I was pretty straightforward, but she clearly didn't agree. Finally, her smile mirrored mine and she leaned her head on my shoulder as we swayed to the song.
It was only a few minutes long, of which, despite my apparent calmness, I was a little nervous to be dancing with such a beautiful girl. I hoped she couldn't feel my heart racing between us. It certainly didn't help when she began to hum lowly, clearly knowing the words to Maude Ivory's ballad, and the deep reverberation of her humming echoed in my ear.
When the song came to an end, everybody parted and applauded the band for their song. Meanwhile, Lucy Gray pulled apart, hands moving from my shoulders and to my hands, squeezing them gently.
"Thanks for the dance," I said to her with a suppressed smile.
"Thanks for askin'," she replied.
My smile was permanently fixed on my face as I watched her walk away, back to the stage for her next number. It wasn't until Y/BF/N appeared out of nowhere, patting me on the back, that I was pulled from my Lucy Gray-induced stupor.
"Someone's crushing," she teased, and I simply ignored her as I glanced back at the brunette onstage.
I was lucky she was giving me a chance at all.
After that initial dance, it became almost tradition to dance with her every time I could, and she always accepted, for some reason giving me the time of day. Visiting the Hob had a new, exciting meaning now, and not just to have some fun fooling around.
Getting to know her more, hearing her talk about her love of performing or something that happened to her that day, meant we were growing closer. Not quite friends, but not anything less either. We'd see each other around school and greet each other, or she'd walk past me in the markets and flash me a smile. Y/BF/N thought I was insane to like her, but I couldn't help it.
A few weeks after that initial dance, she was rambling about some frustrating things before her show, including her shoes not tying quite right, or the step on the stage being a little dodgy and making everyone trip up. One of her complaints was about her red lipstick, which had officially ran out and was her favourite one to wear for performing. Lipstick and makeup in general were rare finds, and she must have searched around a lot to get it, but now she couldn't replace it, not for a while anyway, and it was upsetting her more than she let on.
I couldn't help it, of course. I had to rectify the issue. So, I found a way to trade some meaningless things at the markets in exchange for a red lipstick, one that looked fresh from the Capitol and that I knew Lucy Gray would love. Later that evening, after sneaking out of my house, I headed straight for the garage behind the Hob that the Covey had claimed, where they prepared for their shows.
When I entered, everybody was doing different things, from tuning their instruments to fixing their hair.
"Lucy Gray, Y/N's here!" someone shouted in a teasing voice, and I didn't get chance to see who as Lucy Gray suddenly appeared, stealing my attention.
"Hey, darlin', what're you doing here?" she asked with a bright smile, looking as beautiful as ever.
"Just wanted to wish you luck," I told her, returning her smile. "And of course, bring you a little something."
Her dark brows knitted together above confused eyes, and I took the lipstick from my jacket pocket before holding it out to her.
"You were saying how you felt weird performing without it," I explained as she curiously took it to inspect it, "so I got you another one. Can't have the iconic Lucy Gray without her iconic red lipstick, can we?"
An amazed smile grew on her lips as she looked at the colour, and I couldn't stop looking at her.
"Y/N, this... how did you get this?" she asked with a laugh, meeting my gaze.
I shrugged, and she rolled her eyes before hugging me.
"Thank you so much," she said gratefully, pulling back to grin at me. "I... I don't know what to say."
"You don't need to say anything, just wear it," I said.
She laughed again before going up to the mirror hung on the wall, applying the lipstick as she always did before every show. And when she turned around, I knew I'd made the right choice. As always, she stole my breath away.
"You look beautiful," I told her truthfully. "But you always do."
The pink tingeing her cheeks was contrasted to the deep red of her lips, but she remained confident as she stepped towards me knowingly.
"There's only one way to truly test it," she said, and I didn't get chance to ask what she meant before she pressed a slow but firm kiss on my cheek.
I was dumbstruck, not expecting that at all, and she pulled back with a satisfied smile. Her hand ghosted my cheek, thumb rubbing gently on the inevitable lipstick stain on my face.
"I'll see you out there," she said, dropping her hand but not her smile. "Thanks again, Y/N."
Still reeling at the sensation of her lips on my cheek, I couldn't find the words to reply. She laughed before returning to the Covey, and somehow I found myself walking to the Hob to sit with Y/BF/N. As soon as she spotted the lipstick on my cheek, the laughing and teasing began, but it didn't mean much when Lucy Gray walked out onstage, her matching red-painted lips curved into a grin.
It was easy to fall quicker and harder for Lucy Gray after that, so much in fact that the only thing I wanted to do was kiss her for real.
No matter how much time we spent together, the shameless flirting and banter wasn't enough. I didn't want to be platonic, I wanted more, and I was sure she might have wanted it too.
One evening at the Hob, we were both sat at the bar chatting. Well, she was chatting and I was very much distracted by the sharp curve of her jaw and the curly ringlets of hair that kept spilling into her eyes and the way her mouth moved with each word she spoke and–
"You're not listenin', are you?" she asked lightheartedly, humoured smirk on her lips, matching the quirk of her brow.
That seemed to be the final straw for me, and I couldn't help but lean in, kissing her. Only as I did it did I realise the insanity of my actions, the carelessness, and I pulled away just as quickly. Before I could even scold myself for acting so recklessly, endless apologies on the tip of my tongue, something caught my eye from behind her.
My eyes widened when I recognised the person who had just walked into the Hob. It was my father, the head peacekeeper who hated coming in here because he believed it was a distraction and a bad influence. He was here, and he'd just walked in with some of his peacekeeper friends.
And I was sat in here, a little too close to a girl he also deemed a bad influence. Oh, shit.
"My dad," was all I could get out, before I forgot everything that had happened with Lucy Gray and immediately threw myself over the bar, hiding behind it.
"What are you doin'?!" Lucy Gray leaned over, looking down at me with a puzzled expression.
I couldn't have hunkered down anymore if I tried. "Dad. Doorway. Now!" I whisper-shouted, as if he'd suddenly hear me from all the way across the room.
She must have looked and recognised him as her shadow disappeared and she was no longer trying to talk to me. As I formulated a plan to escape, hoping the full house and loud music would be the perfect distraction, I heard a familiar voice nearing.
"Commander Y/L/N!" Lucy Gray exclaimed loudly, and my heart sank at the possibility of getting caught. "Hi!"
He hesitated, before responding, quite literally just above me. "Lucy Gray, right? The Covey. You performed at Mayfair's birthday a couple of months ago."
I could practically picture the grin on her face as she answered enthusiastically, "The one an' only!"
Sounding a little more laid back than usual, he said, "It was an excellent performance."
"Why, thank you, sir," she replied kindly.
It was quiet between them for a moment, as he ordered a drink with the bartender who thankfully seemed to understand why I was hiding right next to his feet, but he mustn't have left afterwards, as Lucy Gray spoke up.
"Oh, they'll bring your drinks to your table, sir."
"It's fine, I'll wait," he said dismissively, and Lucy Gray merely hummed in response, but I didn't hear her leave.
My heart was racing as I didn't dare move a muscle. My father was stood right next to me, only a bar between us, and I was sure he'd kill me if he knew I was here. Why the hell was he even here?! This was so unlike him!
But no, I couldn't think about that right now. I could only focus on leaving before he discovered my presence.
"So, are you performing here?" my dad asked Lucy Gray in an awkward attempt at filling the silence. He was never good at small talk.
"Uh-huh," she responded just as awkwardly, and I appreciated that, despite my previous mistake with her, she was still willing to keep my secret.
"Nice," was all he said. "I look forward to it. The officers say you're really good."
She didn't reply, must have smiled or nodded or something, because the conversation ended and I was back to hearing the blood rushing in my ears.
After what felt like forever, I heard the bartender serve my dad his drink, and then the latter wished Lucy Gray a good evening before leaving. I didn't dare move, not until I was certain, but Lucy Gray banged the top of the bar to get my attention.
"He's on the other side talking to some officers," she assured me.
"I need to leave out the back," I said, not showing my head just yet. "He'll kill me."
"Okay, just wait," she instructed, and I did just that until I realised she had rounded the bar and was holding her hand out to me. "Come on."
Accepting her hand, I let her keep a look out before she dragged me through the back and out the door, away from my father's prying eyes.
A sigh of relief escaped me as I was in the clear, and Lucy Gray was laughing at my expense.
"That was close," she said between laughter, glancing back as the door closed behind us.
Straightening up, I nodded in agreement. "It was. Thanks for the assist."
She settled on an amused smile before her eyes met mine and her expression softened. "You know, you were in the middle of somethin' back there."
And just like that, the mortifying realisation of kissing her returned to memory, and I was instantly about to apologise.
"Yeah, I–"
She cut me off with a kiss, just as abrupt as mine, but unlike me, she didn't pull away, and I was left to melt into her lips, savouring the warmth of her skin pressed to mine. Her hand cupped my cheek, fingertips pressing down gently, and I sighed into her lips as she began to pull away for air.
"That was... unexpected," I muttered, lips still tingling.
She tried not to laugh. "As unexpected as you kissin' me before?"
I exhaled, slightly embarassed, and she licked her lips before taking my hand and squeezing it gently.
"You should probably head home before your daddy finds you out here," she said, a hint of humour in her voice.
"Home, right," I agreed, before meeting her eyes. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?"
She grinned. "See you then."
I smiled softly before kissing her hand and leaving. It was safe to say I couldn't sleep the rest of the night, my only thoughts of the curly-haired Covey girl who'd stolen my heart.
#the hunger games imagine#the ballad of songbirds and snakes imagine#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#lucy gray baird imagine#lucy gray x reader#lucy gray baird x reader#lucy gray baird#rachel zegler
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hello !! idk if you’ll see this but for the 100 followers celebration, may i please request pm! chuuya + (17) wondering if they deserve you or not + (6) “just look at you, then look at me” ?? maybe it’s like he gets doubts and worries, especially when he sees reader getting interactions with others and considering his job and what it means for the reader? but… um, could it end with fluff, please? also, could it be a fanfic, pretty please? i do apologize if this is way too specific !!
once again, congratulations on 100 followers, you totally deserve it, your writing is absolute heaven !! have a nice day/night/afternoon !!
I love specific people and things no worries and thank you I adore your fanfics too!
✧˚ · . right by you - chuya nakahara
he doesn’t deserve you. not when you’re so good.
summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, unrequited love (supposedly), SFW → minor (barely any) angst with happy ending.
Chuuya Nakahara didn’t deserve you.
Nor the air you breathed, or the space you shared with him at the Port Mafia. He didn’t deserve any of that.
Chuuya had always considered himself an okay person. He killed people, but it was for the sake of Yokohama’s safety—subsequently, your safety. In the eyes of others, he’s a piece of shit through and through (that, he doesn’t deny). But in your eyes, he’s just a guy trying to do what’s best for his subordinates and city. In your eyes, he’s just Chuuya.
It’s a bit odd, honestly.
Having feelings for his subordinate.
It fucked with his mind too.
The Port Mafia was no place for love. Look at Higuchi pining over Akutagawa like a lovesick high schooler—that’s clearly going nowhere. So it’s not like he’d have a chance with you, anyway. Not when you’re so good, too. So, so much better than he ever could be.
Someone like you—who regularly brought cookies to the Mafia’s HQ to ‘boost morale’—didn’t deserve a fake human like him. One who was a vessel of a god. The fake Chuuya Nakahara. No matter how much evidence said he was the real one, he couldn’t believe it. Just look at him, then at you. No, you’re the real human.
And he’s a fucked up mess that also happens to be a murderer.
Great boyfriend material.
In the middle of his self-deprecation, a knock hit his door. Probably Tachihara, that smug bastard. Not like he was doing anything, anyways. Taking one last look at the ceiling of his office, Chuuya called out.
“Yeah yeah, door’s open. Come in.”
Instead of that redhead, it was you.
Shit.
He was sure your shift was over. It was what, eight at night now? You got off right around now, so you had no reason to see him. Yet his cheeks flushed up anyway as a pointless attempt at faking a cough was done to hide the obvious reddening. Mentally cursing himself for for being so childlike with his feelings, he sat up in his chair, pretending to write on a document.
“Need something?”
He’d do it. Just ask. Wait—that’s pathetic.
“No, but the others and I are going out to drink. You wanna come?”
Chuuya perked up immediately, already imagining the taste of red wine sliding down his throat and warming up his body. He loved drinking. Helped to get his mind off his problems—namely, you. His fingers drummed on the wood of his desk, a small hum drifting from his lips as he thought of the potential consequences.
He could get drunk and act stupid in front of you. Or accidentally harass you. Or end up blabbering his head off about Dazai again. Or-
Snapping out of his daze when he saw you awkwardly standing there waiting for his response, he shrugged.
Fuck it. It’d be fine.
“Sure. Usual bar?”
You nodded, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves. You always did that when you were nervous. A small wave of worry washed over him. Did he make you nervous? Shitshitshit. What’d he do?
Standing up, he quickly organized some papers—recent missions and current objectives—into piles on his desk, palms slightly sweaty from the fact that you were watching him. Chuuya didn’t like how he always was a wreck around you. It wasn’t gonna make him good in your eyes, is what he thought. Lord, he wished he knew what would make you like—no, love—him back.
“Let’s go now then, yeah? We can get a head start on the others. Don’t want Tachihara to brag his ass off about being first again.”
He offered a small attempt at a smile, cheeks rosy and all. It was nothing compared to when you smiled, though. Like an angel. His angel. Holy fuck. He’s really gotta stop daydreaming about you when you were in the damn room with him.
Leading the way, he carefully kept to your side throughout the long hallways of the Port Mafia’s HQ, occasionally stopping to discuss a quick matter or two with one of his assistants. When someone bumped into you, he hesitantly placed a hand on your back to keep you steady and remind the other grunts that you were under his protection.
Although that still didn’t stop the dreamy stares at you.
Or the jealousy that Chuuya felt after. He knew that he wasn’t good enough for you, and he respected that. But these guys didn’t. No, they thought they somehow had a chance with you—a living, breathing angel—and that irked him. Shouldn’t they be grateful for just getting to see you? He was, anyway. He’d take all that he could get.
Including this short walk.
Lasting for only three minutes or so, soon you two were out in the chilly night air of the parking lot. You shivered a bit, cheeks and nose turning red and numb from the coldness. Chuuya couldn’t help himself as he nudged you closer to his side to be a bit more warm. Kouyou always said he was a human oven, after all. Walking to his car—nothing too fancy, yet not quite cheap—, like a true gentleman, he opened the door for you to sit in the front passenger seat next to him.
He always drove you to the bars. You always drove him back.
A fair deal, in his opinion.
Starting up the engine, Chuuya sneaked a glance at your profile. Nose tinted with red, cheeks puffy from the cold and eyes staring back at him. Wait. Huh? His face went red. Again. Now the both of you were flushed, and not from the cold.
“Want my coat? You uh, seem pretty cold.”
Please don’t say no, please don’t say no, please don’t-
“Yeah. Please.”
Chuuya shrugged off his black coat, carefully laying it on top of you like a cozy blanket. His hands brushed against your arms as he snugly placed it on you. You looked good under it.
“We’ll warm up with the alcohol later. I know you don’t like whiskey, but a shot should warm you up.”
You made a face, sticking out your tongue and giggling slightly while he started up the car, slowly backing out of his parking spot.
“That’s shit’s nasty, Chuuya-kun. Just like your wine.”
If Chuuya had one complaint about you, it’s that you didn’t like red wine.
“It’s an acquired taste, you brat. If you’d try it out more often, you’d like it.”
His heart warmed up at the sight of your smile, making sure to keep up the banter between you two as he drove to the nearby bar. His fingers twitched, aching to hold yours. To warm you up, too. He didn’t want his coat hugging you. Chuuya wanted to hug you. Was that too creepy? Hopefully not.
Traffic was a shitshow. Both of you agreed that more and more idiots were on the road lately, cursing at the car in-front of you. Thankfully, it didn’t last too long. Ten minutes later and he was pulling into the familiar parking lot of the same bar you two had been going to for a while with the others. A nice small corner bar, retro and one that didn’t mind their eccentricity.
Chuuya didn’t take back his coat from you as you wore it inside.
Ushering you into their usual corner booth, he ordered you two a small drink to start—just a vodka soda. Nothing too much. Although it got him slightly buzzed, a warm feeling calming him down a bit as he sipped. It felt nice. Just the two of you. No rowdy Tachihara. No Higuchi simping over Akutagawa or Gin staring at everyone.
Just you two.
“So uh, when are the others getting here?”
How much time did he have with you alone is what he really meant.
“Oh- let me check real quick. Sorry.”
Chuuya watched as you reached into your purse, grabbing your phone and probably texting Higuchi. A small frown came upon your lips after a minute. Nuh-uh. He’d kill whatever made you frown.
“Eh? Why’re you frowning? We’re drinking, cheer up a bit.”
You looked back at him sheepishly, scooting a bit closer to him.
“Well, apparently Akutagawa got sick so now Gin is taking care of him and Higuchi is worrying so she doesn’t want to come and Tachihara suddenly got busy out of nowhere.”
Yes! Yes yes yes! Just him and you now.
“Sucks. But the two of us are here, right?”
Chuuya was currently praying to God that you’d stay.
“Guess so. Should we order stronger drinks, then? I don’t wanna be sober.”
He now believed in God.
And so you drank. Him with his signature red wine, and you with your preferred drink of choice. Chuuya obviously got drunk first, with the redhead showing signs of intoxication while he got clingy with you. You were equally drunk, and didn’t care that much. So he clung into your arm like a baby while you braided his hair poorly.
“God, your hair is so pretty, Chuuya.”
Ooohh. You called his hair pretty.
“Is the rest of me not pretty?”
He pouted, tugging at your sleeve and resting his head on your shoulder.
“Huh? I didn’t say that. You’re really pretty. Super pretty.”
Wow. He’s super pretty now.
“Well, I think you’re pretty too.”
His face flushed, suddenly realizing what he said as he buried his face in your shoulder, squeezing your arm for reassurance. Why did he say that? Why did he say that!? Stupid alcohol. It made him talk so dumb like this. He didn’t talk like this when the others were around to keep him in check. Shit. Maybe he should’ve have drunk so much.
“You do?”
You looked down at him, fingers momentarily stopping their crafting of his braid.
“Mhm.”
A small shy mumble was all he managed to utter.
“You’re so cute! This is why I like you, y’know.”
His head snapped up immediately. No way in fucking hell were you gonna leave him on a bombshell like that.
“You like me?”
For the second time today, Chuuya was praying to God that you liked him romantically.
“Yep.”
Not helpful.
“But…like a friend? Or uh- romantically.”
Well. He said it. Fuck him. No way you’d like him back.
“Uh.”
Some silence from you.
“I’m not saying.”
Oh yes, yes you fucking were gonna say.
“C’mon, tell me. Pleaseeee?”
Puppy eyed Chuuya. He used this to get out of trouble with Kouyou. Surely, it’d work on you?
“Fine. You’re a bitch, but jesus, I like you romantically.”
Chuuya Nakahara was sure he was at Heaven now. No way you—his angel—just confessed to him. Albeit drunk. But still a confession. One of his hands slowly crept onto yours, lacing your fingers together. He was in bliss, basking in your warmth and ignoring the other rowdy patrons of the bar. You just confessed to him. You like him back.
You like him back.
When he finally got back to his senses and opened his mouth to say that he liked—no, loved—you too, his ears picked up on a small snore from you. Did you seriously fall asleep? You had done it before during previous get togethers, but now? A small smile crept onto his face. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He’d tell you tomorrow.
He’d confess back, take you on a date and prove his worth to you.
Because maybe Chuuya Nakahara could learn how to love like you.
Just maybe.
taglist: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts
#bungou gay dogs#bungou stray dogs#aspiring writer#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#chuunai#fanfic#fem reader#bungo stray dogs chuuya#chuuya#chuuya supremacy#chuuyabsd#chuuya headcanons#chuuya x reader#bsd chuuya#bungou stray dogs chuuya#writing event#kinda shitty#ngl I hate this but it’s Chuuya
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“I wanted to tell you first” (good) (the demon brothers)
What do the demon brothers go to MC first for? What is it that they desire to share with MC before anyone else?
(the demon brothers x gn!MC)
(suggestive for some of the brothers: Lucifer, Asmo, Beel)
Lucifer
You are the first to know when Lucifer obtains a new cursed record. Diavolo used to be the first to know and was occasionally the one who obtained the record for Lucifer, but now (much to Diavolo’s disappointment), Lucifer goes to you first. Unless the record is dangerous for humans, he’s excited for you to listen to it with him before he shows anyone else. Sometimes this can mean calling you into his study late at night so he can cherish a few moments alone with you. Until Lucifer can have you all to himself, he keeps the information about his new record a secret. The anticipation is subtly visible in him when he has to wait to listen to it with you. Sometimes, that means just being more lenient with his brothers, and other days, it elicits more laughter from him and sweet grins when he thinks no one else is looking.
“You seem to be in a good mood today, Lucifer. Did something happen?”
“You’re quite observant. Meet me in my room tonight after dinner.”
Lucifer will pull out a bottle of Demonus for the occasion. If you want it, he’ll have a short lecture about the origins of that particular cursed record – including the potential side-effects in case you decide you don’t want to risk it. He feels it is a necessity that you are prepared to enjoy the listening experience with him, especially for records that have aphrodisiac-like curse symptoms. Lucifer is always a bit horny for you, but if there is a chance he might want to pounce on you later and not be able to control his urges well, he’d rather you opt out early on and not have to see him like that. If you agree to stay, he asks you to spend the night every time.
Even if Lucifer has the opportunity to listen before he shares the record with you, if it’s a song or album he has never heard before (unless he needs to determine what the potential effects on you would be), he’ll wait to listen to it with you. If you ask him, he may tell you that he waited to listen with you, but he’s too embarrassed to admit how much he cherishes being able to share those firsts with you – especially considering how old he is. He never imagined he could still have so many firsts until he met you.
Mammon
Mammon comes to you first with almost any good news, but especially with news about getting good grades and other personal successes. Did he just win big at a casino? You’re the first one he tells. Who else would he want to spend his winnings on, anyway? Did he pass his last Devildom history exam with a B+? He rushes to find you and show you his exam paper with the biggest grin on his face. Did he score a modeling gig with one of his favorite brands (or better yet, one of your favorite brands)? He tells you as soon as he’s notified.
Mammon tends to preface his good personal news with “you’ll never guess what the Great Mammon did.” If he wasn’t smiling like a carefree fool, you might worry that he had gotten in trouble again. Although a quiet part of him believes that you really wouldn’t be able to guess what he accomplished because he isn’t exactly known for his vast array of successes, he craves your faith in him with his entire being. Mammon wants to surprise you with how good he’s doing for himself, but he also wants to impress you so much that you’ll never be shocked by his success. When it boils down, Mammon wants to make you proud of him. As such, he takes all his accomplishments directly to you. Lucifer is a close second, but the praise from his beloved brother could never compete with how he feels when you smile at him and tell him what a good job he has done.
Although he doesn’t mean to, sometimes after Mammon gives you the good news, he lowers his head slightly, eyes fixed on the floor, as if he’s waiting for you to pet him. If all you do is congratulate him, he will perk up and brag a bit (“Well, you are talking to the Great Mammon, after all.”). If you take the hint, his face will heat up and he may protest, but he’ll melt under your touch so quickly that his actions will betray his words.
“Stop pettin’ me already!”
“Mammon, you’ve literally been sitting in my lap and nuzzling my hand on your own for the past minute. I haven’t even moved.”
“Shuddup and go back to saying nice stuff about me.”
Leviathan
Not only does Levi come to you when he has an otaku fail, he also comes to you first when he has an otaku win. Sometimes that means calling you to scream in your ear about obtaining Sucre Frenzy tickets or unboxing his new Ruri-chan merch with you, but more often than not, he comes to you first about his game wins – especially when he gets a good gacha pull or defeats a tough boss. He has a few reasons for coming to you first. For one, Levi is used to his brothers and friends ignoring him when he goes on about his games and anime. Sometimes, especially in the cases of Lucifer, Simeon, and Barbatos, they have no clue what Leviathan is even talking about. Being dismissed or even ridiculed will hurt his feelings and ruin his joy and excitement. However, Levi trusts you with his heart, and he’s willing to put his joy on the line every time with you.
Another reason why Levi comes to you first with his otaku wins is because you are precious to him, and he can’t imagine wanting to share his happiness with anyone more than you (except maybe Henry 2.0). He’s usually pretty moody or at least prone to negativity, so when he’s hit with bouts of joy, Levi is eager to showcase this positive side of himself for you. Maybe if you see that he can be more than a depressed, self-conscious, jealous otaku, you might love him even more.
Furthermore, Levi is self-conscious about how he expresses his joy. Levi strikes me as someone who happy stims, often by bouncing his heels, shaking one or both of his hands back and forth as if fanning himself, or shaking his head. He’s so afraid that someone will tell him he looks stupid and crush his joy completely, but he can’t help it. The more he holds himself back, the more restrained and diminished his happiness feels. But again, Levi trusts you so much. He knows (or at least wants to believe) that he can be free to express himself around you – if no one else.
Letting him be himself, loving him enough to listen, and sharing in his happiness are precious gestures that he appreciates more than he can say, which is why he comes to you first with these things. That earned trust has adorable rewards, such as Levi getting so excited that he hugs or kisses you of his own volition before getting flustered but asking to continue anyway.
Satan
You are the first to know when Satan has inside information about new events and shops that he receives from acquaintances. Even if the event is being scheduled on the low, he trusts you not to tell anyone before it’s appropriate (and he’ll tell you not to say a word when he needs to keep the information secret). He wants to show off his connections a bit, but moreover, he just wants to let you know because you might find something new to be interesting and may want to start making plans in advance. Furthermore, Satan likes being able to take advantage of his inside knowledge to ask you out before anyone else gets a chance. The less competition he has to contend with, the better.
“Ah, MC. I heard that there’s going to be a pop-up night market downtown the weekend after next,” Satan brought up casually.
“Oh? I didn’t hear anything about it yet, but that seems fun – if it won’t be too busy.”
“I know someone on the planning committee. She told me that they just finalized the date with Diavolo yesterday. They’re just preparing the marketing and advertising plan. Are you interested in going – with me, that is?”
Satan wants to ask you out first, but he’s also extremely excited to share interesting Devildom events and places with you. He’d hate for you to get bored with the Devildom (or with him), and new things are a great opportunity to ensure you enjoy your life there.
Typically, Satan tells you calmly and informally in-person once he can get you alone for a few minutes. However, when it’s an event or shop that he’s excited for (especially things like new cat cafés and pop-up book sales), he might call you instead of waiting. If he does wait, he’ll be visibly excited when he sees you, eagerly getting you alone so he can tell you. When he’s excited about the information, Satan will practically beg you to go out with him. If it’s something he cares about, he’s desperate to share that experience with you (in part because he knows he’ll enjoy it even more if you’re by his side, and partly because he knows he won’t enjoy it fully if he has to think about you being there with someone else).
Asmodeus
Asmo wants you to be the first to know when he designs new products or gets on magazine covers. It’s so important to him that you know when he’s accomplished something, and as much as loves sharing his sense of beauty with his adoring followers, that could never compare to his need to share that with you. You’re one of the most beautiful things to ever exist in Asmo's eyes; it only makes sense that he would have to share his gorgeous creations or even more lovely image with you – he just also happens to want to share them with you before he can share it with anyone else. Asmo is so serious about you needing to know first that he will reschedule announcements if he doesn’t have the chance to tell you before the announcement would go up. If you hear about if from anyone else, he will sulk all day – even if you praise him for a job well-done.
“Ugh, but I was supposed to tell you!”
“I’m still really proud of you, Asmo. This jewelry line is gorgeous. It really captures your essence, too. The pink star ruby encircled by the scorpion’s tail is lovely, and you were the perfect model.”
“Of course I was, but I worked so hard on that line and that photoshoot took hours. I wanted you to know before anyone else found out. It was supposed to be a big surprise.”
“It was still a surprise.”
“But I didn’t get to see the look on your face when you found out.”
Asmo will pout no matter what you say. The best course of action would be to offer him some sort of physical affection (a hug, cuddling, kisses, head, sex) until he feels better. He may be overdramatic, but that’s how much he values sharing parts of himself with you and you alone. It isn’t until after Asmo fails to inform you first that he realizes how much he cherishes the few hours or days when only you two know. For that short window of time, Asmo feels the spotlight over him shut off, and he finds your body in the dim Devildom starlight where the only visible thing is your sweet, adorable face. If he’s lucky, you won’t be able to turn your gaze away from him.
Beelzebub
When you aren’t able to show up and watch Beel at his sports games and competitions, the second thought in his head after he wins a game (after how hungry he is feeling) is how you’ll react when you find out that he won. Beel will get giddy over the idea of you hugging him or caressing his cheek and telling him that he did a good job. He won’t rush home – especially if he’s hungry and needs to get something to eat – but his mind will wander and imagine all the ways you might praise him or reward him for winning until he sees you again. Beel will start to smile for seemingly no reason after a game, but that’s just because he’s excited to tell you how well he (and his teammates) did. If Beel is feeling impatient, he will let you know via message. It isn’t the same as getting to see your face when he tells you, but he still holds out hope that you’ll praise him in-person.
Before, Lucifer and Belphie were the first to find out that Beel had won. It doesn’t register to Beel that he goes to you first, and he can’t remember when or exactly why he started to do that. All he knows is that he has never enjoyed being praised by anyone more than you, and that’s justification enough for him to keep doing it.
On the rare occasions that Belphegor is the only one who can attend Beel’s match, if Belphie falls asleep before the game ends, Beel will let his brother stay asleep afterward – even opting to carefully carry him home to avoid waking him up. Beelzebub does that because he’s nice and wants to let Belphie rest, but he also does it so he can tell you he won before Belphie wakes up.
Whenever Beel is in a slightly frisky mood or has been feeling lonely, he will ask you to kiss him as a reward for doing so well. When Beel is feeling pent up, he may be blunt and sexual: “MC, as a reward for winning, can I suck your dick/eat you out?” Even if you try to explain to him that it sounds more like a reward for you, he’ll tell you that he just asked for what he wanted.
Belphegor
Belphegor tells you immediately when he finds out about upcoming meteorological events and new plants in the botanical gardens. He didn’t used to care about telling anyone about anything like that before you came along. If he found out about a meteor shower or saw an impressive new plant the last time he ventured to the botanical gardens, he might have brought it up to his brothers casually in passing – often days or weeks after finding out. However, after you, he can’t seem resist the urge to let you know right away, typically through a message. Belphie might call if the event is occurring at that moment or will be happening shortly/soon enough that he can’t wait for you to read the text. He might also call if he wants you to meet him in the gardens as soon as possible for a date.
Belphie uses these updates as an excuse to ask you out. When he tells you, he typically follows that by asking you to check it out with him. He doesn’t feel that he needs to specify that he intends it as a date unless you bring up inviting anyone else. In that case, he will clarify his intentions, but he’ll pout and be upset that you didn’t seem content to go with him alone. The reason why Belphie gets upset that you invited someone else is because both updates are about things Belphegor cares about. The stars and the gardens are two of Belphie’s favorite things about the Devildom. By telling you about meteorological events and new plant specimens, he is inviting you to share in some of his interests. He craves a deeper connection with you and figures that bonding over something you both enjoy might help, so he tries to expose you to cool (by his standards) plants and meteorological events as often as possible to get you interested.
Even accidentally rejecting his plan for a date to enjoy his interests alone hurts his feelings – as if you were rejecting a part of him. Still, the occasional rejection isn’t bad enough to make Belphegor give up on dozens of date opportunities every year. He’ll stop pouting if you give him enough attention or if you just give him a day or two.
(the demon brothers, bad version)
#lucifer#mammon#leviathan#satan#asmodeus#beelzebub#belphegor#obey me demon brothers#gn!mc#obey me headcanons#obey me luficer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me
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hey, im a big fan of your writing. I am also a big fan of Javier Peña, Joel and Din lmao. So can I request a story about either one of those (mostly sfw mainly because im in my feelings) that is more of a hurt/comfort angst? Maybe bottled feelings are freed, a near death experience occurs after a heated confession that didn't go well...? idk I leave it up to you if you want to write it of course. Anyways, again, love love your stories, especially the way your portray Javier. Have a nice week <3
pairing | javier pena x fem!reader
content warning | mostly sfw, arguments over commitment/relationships, mention of violence (bombing), descriptions of minor injuries and emotional distress, just lots and lots of angst [2.6k]
author’s note | this screamed javi so hard so i couldn't pass up the opportunity to write some angst for him
↝ other fics | requests? | ao3
You’ve been at it for months now, waiting for Javier to finally give in and confess to you what he’s been holding back for so long—he’s so closed off it’s impossible, his back turned to you as he grips the chair shoved into the small dining table tucked in the corner of his apartment.
This was supposed to be a one off job, spend a couple months down in Bogotá with Steve—play alongside him in the hopes of catching Escobar, settling into a mix between the three of you, realizing fairly quickly that Peña wasn’t the type of nice guy you were used to.
He was brazen, straight-forward and a little bit—scratch that, a lot of an asshole, so full of himself that it oozed out. Still, that didn’t stop you from climbing into his bed a week into your stay, breaking the one rule you had.
Never fucking sleep with your co-workers.
Look where it got you; fighting an emotionless wall of stone.
He wants you, but he can’t have you. He doesn’t want to see you with other people, but he can’t stake his claim and call you his—but god forbid you so much as consider eyeing another person, someone interested in showing you the attention you wanted, that you deserved. His jealousy is unmatched, the curl in his lip when he sees you across the room around them, the short and fleeting touches they gave to your arm in passing—from your perspective, a simple gesture between friends, but to Javier, it's a threat.
And it wasn’t that he didn’t try to show you attention—Javier was more than that, all-consuming in a way, passionate to a fault. But, he was not a lover type guy.
Still, you were naive enough to think you could change that.
“I’m not doing this anymore,” You spoke strongly, watching the tilt of his head as looks down, burning a cigarette held between his fingers, “whatever this is—we can forget about it.”
“Yeah—I’m sure the others will have a fuckin’ field day when they catch wind,” Murphy let it slip once and it’s been the constant topic of conversation, playful teasing toward you but torture on Peña who likes to keep things private, always, “always eye fucking you across the room.”
“Who cares, Javi?” You ask, feeling like you were talking to a ghost as he refused to look at you. “You don’t give a shit what’s going on here, why should I?”
And it hurts because you do.
It was innocent at first, one hookup that should’ve ended that night. But, one turned into several and eventually you were spending most night at Javier’s apartment to the extent of grabbing dinner on the way there—or, for fucks sake, cooking for the man. You knew that he loved breakfast in the mornings despite his constant refusal to eat it, how he couldn’t focus without his first cup of coffee and why he kept his gun at his bedside and the spare under the mattress.
He’s got scars, faint but visible when you lay against his chest at night—some from childhood, some not, but you wouldn’t know had you not spent the time with him and watched the vulnerability he showed when it was just you, just him after a long, stressful day trying to catch a terrifying monster and the both of you itching to burn off steam.
“You can’t ask me on a date, can’t—jesus—you can’t even look at me, Javier.” He hears the break in your voice, how hard you’re struggling to keep things together.
And you’re fuming, furious, aiming to hit him where it really hurts. You want him to feel. Feel anything.
“You like to play house and let me cook you meals, act like I’m yours when it’s convenient for you.” He twitches at that, slamming the burnt end of the cigarette into the ashtray. It’s the only real sign of emotion he’s shown all morning. “That’s all you care about. Egoísta.” (Selfish)
He slams the ashtray down roughly, ashes flying over the table. You don’t jump or flinch, not at all fazed by his outburst. You saw it too often during work when things fucked up or didn’t go his way. When he did show emotion it was intense and full body.
“I told you,” He says slowly, turning toward you now, “I don’t do this,” He punctuates slowly, fingering wagging between the both of you, “I can’t do—this.”
Clearly.
“Can’t or won’t?”
The difference is staggering, truly. You wanted an answer.
“You tell me you never want me to leave your bed, your apartment, that you want to keep me here forever because there’s nothing that makes you feel this close to home—and you can’t do this?”
He speaks it against your lips almost every night when he’s pulling you into his chest, pressing those soft lips of his against your forehead and kissing you with a tenderness reserved only for you.
Javier never answers, gaze growing more intense by the second, bound to retreat from the situation before emotions boil over—but you beat him to it, grabbing your bag and storming out without a word.
He’s never had to beg you to stay and he doesn’t realize how desperately he’d wished to ask you until a few hours later, a phone call from Steve that has his heart dropping into his stomach, the equal worry in Murphy’s voice as he relays the information.
Steve mumbles your name—hurt, bomb, Escobar written all over it, dead, so many dead.
You’re lucky to still be standing—or rather alive, forced onto a gurney lined in the aisle of some rundown Bogota hospital where the workers were running rampant, clearly on edge and scrambling to save lives.
It was minor compared to what could have been. A small concussion, some lacerations to your face and a nasty gash on your side that required some stitching. It wasn’t anything some pain medication and bandages couldn’t fix, but in that commotion you had lost all of your belongings, undoubtedly damaged beyond repair. You had been in the shopping center ten minutes prior to the explosion and you were shaken, admittedly, wondering why your life had been spared over so many others.
And you always hear about your life flashing before your eyes during a near death experience, never really believing it until it happens—and selfishly, you couldn’t think about anything but Javi.
He was a nasty parasite, the kind that sucked the life and energy out of you, took everything and gave nothing in return. You knew how he was going into things, knew he wouldn’t budge or change his ways.
But still, there was a hope that maybe he would change.
The first thing you manage to do when you find a phone is call the embassy—anyone who would answer and let them know what happened, but they were miles ahead and already fifty feet deep into investigating.
Carillo is the first to ask if you’re okay, not that it matters—but then Murphy is scrambling for the phone, a soft commotion in the background as he argues with the man until he finally lets up and hands it over.
“God, we thought you were dead. Please tell me you’re alright?” Murphy pleads, sounding just as strained and worried as you’d expect, “All your limbs, nothing missing?”
You laugh softly into the phone, the first breath of life back into after what has been a terrible day. It’s already evening, the day has come and gone and the sun is setting without a trace of anyone coming to help.
Not that you expected it—Javier wasn’t the type to get over things easily.
“Yep. Head’s still attached and everything.” And Steve can appreciate your way of coping, adding a bit of lightheartedness to a dark situation. You release a shaky breath, squeezing the plastic tighter until cracks under your grip, “Is there—I mean, they just discharged me, but I don’t have a ride.”
“Javier didn’t pick you up?” Murphy asks, sounding confused. “I told him—he should’ve…”
He trails off, cursing away from the phone as he speaks to someone distantly, “Which hospital are you at?”
You look around for any indication, reading off an unfamiliar name to Steve as he repeats it, scribbling it down on a piece of paper.
“Shit—Javi’s probably clear on the other side of town from you.” Murphy runs a tired hand through his hair, over his face. “They told us they sent everyone to the one here close by the embassy.”
Everyone.
Families searching for their missing—you couldn’t even imagine it.
“He—does Javi think I’m—“
“Shit, I don’t know. He’s been on edge since he got here this morning, we’ve been trying to figure something out, anything—he left a few hours ago when we weren’t getting answers and I just—did something happen?”
“I think I pushed him too far this morning,” You say softly, huddling closer to the wall as the halls become more crowded, louder and suffocating in a way that has your curling around yourself slightly, mindful of the pain in your side, “fuck, maybe this is karma, Steve.”
“Hey, no—don’t say that shit,” He stops you in your tracks, “Javi is…Javi, you can’t predict anything he’s gonna do. Dude’s a fuckin’ brick wall half the time.”
There’s a long moment of silence.
“Steve, I don’t have my phone.” You tell him, “Can you just—call him? Let him know. I need to find a cab or someone willing to drive me back to Bogota if that’s even fucking possible. I don’t even have my wallet or badge with me.”
It’s almost like a divine intervention that you hear Javier on the other end, cutting through the flurry of other voices and busy telephones ringing. He’s wrenching the phone out of Steve’s hand before he can get a word in.
“Querida,” He says soft, voice quivering slightly, “Querida, is that you?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will yourself to remember how badly things ended earlier in the day, even if they didn’t feel as important now, they were still important to you.
Emotions were high now, but the fallout could be devastating.
“Yes, I’m—Javi, I’m okay. A little banged up and stuff but I’ll survive,” The silence grows as he absorbs the information, “Look, I need to go. I have to find a ride back to town.”
“Don’t move,” He says briskly, suddenly, “Fuck—I mean stay there, no te vayas. I’m coming for you.” (Do not go)
The line cuts before you have a chance to reply.
You love how well he sticks out in a crowd despite how he likes to blend in and not draw attention to himself, but he’s all tanned skin and shiny with a layer of sweat that tells you he probably ran a few blocks to get here.
You did wait, even if it was closer to a half hour before there was any sign of him, despite how upset you still were, you waited.
Of course you did.
His eyes dart around nervously before they land on you, tucked away in a corner as you cradle your side and he’s barreling toward you, scooping you up before you can protest. The small squeak you release has him pulling back like someone stabbed him with a hot brand, brows furrowed with worry.
“My side,” You mumble, shifting his hand away from the wound, watching as it falls helpless to his side again, his gaze lingering over your body, face, seeing the amount of damage you took, “hey—I’m fine, all things considered.”
Javier blinks slowly, rubbing around the side of your jaw, careful of the small bandage covering a nasty cut, that familiar pout growing on his lips. You saw it earlier, but the implication was different.
This wasn’t anger. It was worry.
“Mi amor,” He murmurs, oblivious to the commotion around you both as he looks at you, almost straight through you, “fuck—I’m so sorry.”
You breathe through your nose deeply, shaking your head as you grip his wrist for leverage, pulling him alongside you until you’re outside, away from the crowd of people and alone.
“No, I’m sorry.”
And for once, Javier is surprised.
He knows you always have a comeback poised on your tongue, the will to fight and work through any argument that surfaces, but this is defeat. It’s clear as day on your face in the way it falls, eyes softened to the point of near tears and your cheek covered in a dark bruise that makes his chest hurt.
“I don’t know why I’m forcing you to answer to something you don’t want,” That something in question was you, but it didn’t matter, “maybe we let things drag on too long. I was just—happy, I liked it. I shouldn’t have expected anything from you since you were clear from the beginning.”
Even with Javier being the first to cross the lines he drew himself, asking you to stay that one night and never going back, making mistake after mistake until it stopped feeling wrong and started to seem, well, normal. But, here you were, taking the blame like he had no wrongdoing in any of this.
“Bebita, no.” His voice is low, thumb rubbing a tender spot in the side of your neck, a soft touch that massages the ache in your muscles, head tilting into the touch as you look at him. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Oh, the irony.
“Now look at you,” He says, scanning over your face briefly, “consumes mi mente, nena.” (You consume my mind, baby)
“I can’t do halfway anymore, Javi.” It’s pure honesty, fingers finding his wrist as they wrap around delicate, using his touch as an anchor. “I need all of you.”
“Then have it,” Javier says mindlessly, without thinking and speaking instinct—it’s real, you can see it in the way his eyes widen and soften in the same instance, that pleasing look that entraps you, “tómalo.” (Take it)
The tears that sting your eyes don’t fall, but they rise, blinking rapidly to will them away and force yourself to keep composed despite hearing those words, knowing how deeply he meant them.
“Fuck, I’ll marry you if that proves anything to you, querida.” He’s being over-dramatic, but it has your insides fluttering like wildfire, “I should’ve never let you leave this morning.”
But, he was scared. Terrified of how deeply he felt for you.
“There’s so much you don’t know,” Javier explains, “so much I need to tell you but I don’t want to scare you away.”
As if he could.
“Javi, I’m with you.” You tell him steadily, “I always have been.”
Javier laughs through a sigh, breathing through his nose as he smiles for the first time that day.
“We can talk. We will.” Javier nods assuredly, “But, I want to get you home first.”
Home. He means his apartment, but it comes out that way without realizing.
He’s tender when he helps you shower, cleans your wounds up with what little first aid he has, but he manages, helping you dress in what has to be the most vulnerable moment you’ve had since meeting him.
Javier holds you for a long while after that, curled up in his lap on the sofa as he smokes away with his head leaned against the back of the cushion, rubbing a hand over your thigh softly.
“Hermosa?”
You’re nearly asleep by then, rousing with a small hum.
“After all of this,” He trails on, “when we put Escobar away and this shit is done,” He pauses, taking a short drag from the cigarette and blowing it out into the air, “I want you to come back with me.”
“To Texas?”
He nods, squeezing your leg for reassurance.
“I'm terrified of losing you here, but home—I would never let you out of my sight, I could keep you close.”
His trepidation will always be his downfall, but he knows he can’t let you go anymore. He needs you here, he’ll need you after.
“Anywhere you want, Javi. I’ll follow.”
He doesn’t have any reason not to believe you.
“Buena.” (Good.)
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena x y/n#javier pena#narcos x reader#narcos#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pas#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#my writing
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ok i've been taking a break for the past half hour and doing research on the pens locker room, trying to figure out how i wanted to design my own version of geno's 'stall' (is that what it's called?). i love the circular shape it feels very king arthur
first, there isn't a lot of internet documented history on the various eras of the locker room design??? which seems sad
don't get me wrong the latest iteration is pretty epic but as far is i can tell, it hasn't changed much since at least 2013? i do not envy whoever is cleaning this place. thats a lot of sweat over the years.
second, im enjoying seeing little details that i had no idea existed, being a new fan and all. like the puck wins count???? crazy. these guys have a visual representation of how they're doing in the season right up there on the wall glaring judgmentally at them? im so glad im not in sports. i would not survive.
especially when the HISTORY of these pucks is on the walls.....like damn. talk about pressure. anyway 2011-2012 thats one of geno's best seasons right? :)
this is what I wanted. mesh, hooks, I need to figure out how i want to make this look cool.
i find it really funny and endearing that the thing these guys do to relax in down time is a playful version of their own job....
also im not sure about this like:
are they assigned a razor??? you get traded to the penguins and suddenly you're not allowed to use your fancy expensive specialized razor? is this a normal thing in hockey????? do they have group shaves for special events like the playoffs? hockey players are fascinating.
i dont know why but i never considered that the pens have actual lockers in addition to the little seats in the main locker room. this makes total sense. i dont know where i thought their clothes and stuff went. just disappeared into the ether i guess.
anyway definitely a necessity, the hot tub. it looks a little sad and lonely in this photo. it needs a hockey player in it.
racks and racks of gear???? again this makes total sense but never occurred to me. also maybe helps explain why geno likes to switch up gloves, look at all them, damn. i do wonder about helmets still - geno's looks so unique and he's been using the same design since at least 2009.
ok im guessing this is an away locker room and i have only one question: do they bring a little 'logo' carpet to roll out every time they go on the road? thats amazing.
if you read all that, nice! here's a shot of geno with his jock out:
very important locker room research. bonus the earliest pens locker room photo of geno i could find:
shy beautiful boy ^_^ (also he looks so young and vulnerable its hard to believe that even back in 2008/2009 he already had so much responsibility with so many grown adults making demands on his entire career)(like he went through all that AND is still playing in the league with three cups under his belt? thats fucking awesome)
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summary: wonwoo knows a lot, especially how your thoughts get into your head. when he knows you had a bad week, he wants to shower you with the gentle love you always give him when his thoughts get into his head.
note: god its been ages since i posted but alas!! this was a request for a friend of mine, and it helped me get out of my writing slump. enjoy <3
pair: f!reader x jeon wonwoo
tags: soft bf!wonwoo, SMUT (minors dni), communication during sex, kink exploration, spit, slight choking, dirty talk, slight degradation, multiple positions (sorta), safe sex, oral (both m. and f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), orgasm denial, edging, pet names (wonwoo calls reader baby, sweetheart, good girl, princess), soft dom!wonwoo, reader goes into subspace, wonwoo takes care of reader, reader works at a clinic
word count: 6.9k
[ wonu : babe
wonu: how are you feeling? ]
like shit, you want to text him. i’m not ok. so much, too much, is happening all at once your brain doesn’t know what to process first. it’s been like this from monday morning: you were short-staffed because three co-workers got sick, people kept complaining about the wait times, what could you do, you just work here. tuesday to thursday was absolute hell: how does someone mess up inventory TWICE? your co-worker doesn’t know shit. how did she get hired anyway! you don’t want to even think about friday’s disaster. you called in sick today, because fuck the clinic, and made sure you swapped your closing shift at the bookstore with someone else. your head is in chaos, all while managing a terrible migraine.
from the tylenol, the long naps, to the drops of essential oil on your pillow– none of it isn’t even helping.
you haven’t spoken to your boyfriend for a few days, there’s the i love yous, occasional memes or cat pics he sends, but it’s been quiet. he’s been busy too, he got hired by a better design company, meaning better schedules and much well-deserved salary, and has been finishing up his last few shifts on his secondary job at a milk tea shop. but since he’s one of the long time workers at the shop, he’s been busy training newbies to replace him, hence why he’s been awake earlier than you, and comes home so late. you know he’s home when he quietly slips into bed after a shower, snuggling you from behind, holding your small frame. but you miss the cuddles when you play games together, the shared silence with him, looking at dumb cat videos. everything about him, really, you miss. even though you live with him now.
[wonu: are you at your bookstore job tonight?]
you first tell a truth: you called in sick for both of your jobs. then, you lie, saying your friend-slash-coworker is coming over to talk about stuff.
[wonu: don’t lie to me
wonu: babe
wonu: i know you had a bad week]
it was just busy, you respond. you’re busy, baby. you’re probably tired too. we can talk about this later.
[wonu: i’m not ever tired when it comes to you
wonu: i’m gonna leave work right now
wonu: idc]
you feel tears well up. you not replying back is all he needs to know.
wonwoo shows up in twenty minutes, holding a bag of takeout, bubbletea, and a cute stuffed animal. you wondered how on earth did he get here so fast, considering it takes him about thirty-five minutes to get to back home, but you’re too tired to say anything. all he does is give you a hug, plant a soft kiss on your head, and you try really hard not to cry. he does the thing where he scratches softly under your chin, like how he usually would greet a cat, while your head leans into his chest.
“hi baby,” wonwoo finally speaks, giving you a soft smile. it fades when his cold fingertips linger around your cheekbones, and stops below your dark circles. “long week?”
“mm.” you try to pretend everything is okay. he knows you aren’t. he places more gentle kisses between your eyes and on the bridge of your nose.
“was hoping you would tell me, actually.” wonwoo quietly locks the front door, takes off his shoes, and you quickly scramble to find him some house sandals that would fit him. “baby, it’s okay, I don’t need slippers. none of them fit me, remember?”
wonwoo doesn’t wear the house slippers because the five house pairs are all yours. you insist on getting him a pair, he always refuses. you cough out a laugh, and you hear wonwoo giggle.
“right, i forgot, sorry,” you mumble. “what food did you get?”
“i got you your favourite,” pho from the restaurant where you had your first date with him in. it’s his favourite, too, “i got us a matcha cake slice and a strawberry one to share, too.” cakes from the cafe on the third date.
you nod quietly, and you watch him leave the takeout on the table. he pulls out a container (which is most likely the cakes), and grabs the two plastic forks.
“wonwoo, i’m not…” hungry, you trail off, you weren’t in the mood to eat, but wonwoo looks over at you, with such tenderness. his black turtleneck hugs his torso nicely, square glasses makes him look like a nerd, when did he get a haircut? and he looks over at you, attentive and with endearment. sometimes you wonder how you deserved him. “i’m…”
wonwoo finishes putting the takeout on the table, and approaches you with quiet steps. he cocks his head to the side, a motion to tell you come here, love, and you take a few steps closer, fiddling with the sleeves of the navy oversized sweatshirt (which belongs to wonwoo).
“how can i be here for you, baby?” he pulls you closer, rubbing small circles on your scalp with his thumb. you don’t really respond, but all you do is plant your face straight to his chest, wrapping your arms around his frame. you feel a low chuckle erupt from his chest. “baby, i’m not sure how my chest is… supportive enough.”
“well, they’re bigger than mine! it’s comfy!” you whine quietly, and wonwoo laughs at your answer. he embraces you, slightly moving side to side.
“i do want an answer, if you’re able to tell me.”
“um,” you hum, looking up to him, while he still scratches your head. “i kind of just want to cuddle… tell me about your new hires, or show me dumb videos of mingyu and seungkwan being stupid again, i really don’t wanna think about what this shitty week has done to me.”
“okay, we can do that.” he hums, and scoops you up, holding you like a sack of rice.
“why are you holding me like this.”
“i wanna open the door.”
“i…” you suddenly remember the bowl of pho sitting on the table. “wait, wonwoo, the pho–”
“we have a microwave.”
“i can walk to put it away first!”
“i wanna spoil you, princess. you deserve something good. no need to think about anything.”
you feel your brain go sideways.
“… okay.” you mumble, kissing the side of his head, ignoring the heat flushing in your cheeks, and the faded pink tint in wonwoo’s ears.
wonwoo puts you on the bed, and wraps you in a blanket burrito after a little cute protest and some kisses, telling you to wait while he quickly freshens up. you feel like you’re gonna fall off the bed, why did your boyfriend put you by the edge of the bed? idiot. after showering, he changes to a comfortable black muscle tee (gifted by soonyoung) and gray sweatpants. when he returns to the bedroom, he turns on the lampshade before shutting off the main light in the bedroom. he goes back by the bed, and unrolls you out from the blanket burrito, giggling as you find yourself rolling towards the middle of the bed.
“wonwoo, what the fuck,” you find it so silly, you’re trying to contain your laughter but it’s not working. you feel wonwoo climb up on the bed, and wonwoo seems like he’s having fun removing (more like unrolling) you out of the blanket. wonwoo starts pressing a few of your pressure points gently, making you giggle even more. “what are you, FUCK, that tickles, STOP THAT!”
“noooo,” wonwoo sounds like a child, and pushes off the final part of the blanket off your body. you’re laughing loudly on the bed, as wonwoo carefully pulls you up but you feel limp from laughing. he helps you sit up in front of him, and you think he’s finished with his confusing act, but he grabs the blanket, wraps you both in it, proceeds to embrace you close, and accidentally manhandles you, him hitting the bed while you’re on top of him. “oh, this wasn’t what i planned to do.”
“what?” you ask him. “manhandle me?”
“yeah, i got too excited, i’m sorry, baby.”
“well, if it makes you feel better,” you trace shapes on his cheekbones with your finger. “i liked it. had no thought in my head, just vibes.”
“mm,” wonwoo just hums, lightly patting your butt. a hand rests behind his own head, inadvertently flexing, and you mindlessly trace the healed floral ink that wraps around his bicep. “one of the new hires likes fruits basket, it reminded me of you.”
“WHAAAAAT?” you look at him with excitement gleaming in your eyes. you slap his chest lightly. “tell me more, tell me more!”
“well, she has a tattoo of kyo’s bracelet and named her pet hamster after yuki.” wonwoo says, playing with your hair. wonwoo started watching the series for you, although he hasn’t finished yet. “although she likes kuroo?”
“oh! kureno.”
“is he a bad person?” he likes to know what’s he in for at times, so some spoilers are okay.
“he falls in love with a minor.”
“oh.”
“yeah, it’s gross,” you sigh as you feel wonwoo massage your scalp. “oh that’s nice, by the way, did your manager allow you to take the cat apron?”
“i can’t. jihoon sucks.”
“boooo! he sucks.”
“my baby can always embroider me one, right?”
“i crochet, not embroider!”
“same idea!”
“no its not!” you pinch his nose. his nose scrunches up, and he tries to playfully bite your fingers. you pinch him even harder, and you giggle over his over exaggerated expression of pain. “i should really finish making that cat hat for you.”
“take your time, baby,” he kisses the tip of your fingers. “don’t stress on it. oh, speaking of which, jihoon sent me footage of seungkwan and mingyu tripping during close yesterday. i don’t know why you find it amusing to see them struggle.”
“because they’re so funny together,” you laugh, as wonwoo uses a free hand to grab his phone on the nightstand. he opens it and scrolls, looking for the video. you turn your head, listening to his steady heartbeat. the scent of his lavender bodywash is faint. it lingers. “besides, mingyu complains about his antics with seungkwan to me at the clinic sometimes.”
“ah, not surprised.”
wonwoo opens the video, and since it is security footage, it’s muted. the quality is grainy. it’s a bit blurry. as wonwoo lightly taps a tune on the small of your back, you watch with curious eyes. seungkwan is mopping, while mingyu is seen refilling the containers with straws and wooden utensils. it doesn’t look much, but you see seungkwan tell mingyu something, but his footing is awkward, causing him to slip on the wet floor. seungkwan doesn’t fall on the ground, and mingyu is laughing at him, throwing his head back in amusement. mingyu suddenly slips backwards, falling on his side, and a bunch of straws fall on the floor. seungkwan looks like he’s gonna cry so much from laughing too hard. someone else (it looks like vernon) appears from the corner and stares at mingyu, whose still on the floor. he leaves. you and wonwoo snort loudly, you shutting your eyes hard because it’s too funny. he locks his phone and puts it back on the nightstand, stroking your head while you continue to laugh.
“god, they’re so stupid,” you shake your head. “how does jihoon deal with them?”
“he tries not to.” wonwoo halfly jokes, scrunching up his nose. you snicker. “at least they get the job done, and jihoon will be less stressed.”
“hopefully the new hires don’t fuck up.”
“i made sure they won’t.” wonwoo says, looking at you with endearment. you can’t help but move up, and kiss him. he smiles into the kiss, even taking a hold of your face as you pepper him with soft kisses. “you’re being more adorable today.”
“well, i feel like i miss you a lot more lately,” you lightly push his glasses up. “even though i see you everyday, i don’t know, it’s different this time.”
“how so?”
you still don’t want to think about the disaster the week has been. but you want your heart to be open. steady.
“sometimes, i forget i’m not alone,” you tell him. his attentive gaze never leaves your face. “and that i don’t have to… i don’t have to burden everything all at once. and i’m sorry if i feel like i’m not relying on you.”
“baby,” wonwoo cups your face and squishes your cheeks. you inadvertently let out a laugh. “don’t be sorry. please don’t ever be.”
“i know, but i…”
“you’re very important to me.” he strokes your cheekbone. “i am always here. i’m sorry if i appeared… distant lately. you don’t deserve that.”
“it’s okay, woo. i’m just overthinking.”
“it’s not…” he whispers, face softening. “you had a bad week, and me being busy isn’t an excuse to make sure my baby is okay. like i said, you’re very important to me, and the love you give me makes me so happy. i love you so much.”
“i love you so much too, wonwoo… how did i deserve you?” you feel your heart swell, and the urge to cry comes. “sometimes i wonder about that.”
“you deserve everything. and i’ll make sure i can give everything to you.”
“then…” you trail off, going quiet for a moment. wonwoo watches you, and you raise yourself up, adjusting yourself to almost straddle his lap. “can you…”
“hm?”
“can you take care of me?” you whisper, tugging the hem of his shirt. you swallow the embarrassment down, reminding yourself that it’s okay. “please?”
it seems like a desperation from you, but wonwoo knows you best. you know that he’ll always and will take care of you with utmost tenderness and gentle love. but sometimes, just barely, or just too often, you question yourself how (and why) you deserve him. you already thought the shared kiss under the stars a few years ago was something he’d forget easily. but the nerd he is, he’ll plant constellations upon constellations of kisses across your body, (as if you’re the universe herself), and ask you to guess which constellation it is. on your anniversary, he’ll always kiss the libra constellation on you because that’s the one you both saw under that fated starry night. (although, he loves kissing the pisces constellation on your body. a lot).
wonwoo gazes upon you, eyes brimming with gentleness, and he carefully sits up, motioning you to move closer to him. his hands rest on your hips, his right thumb stroking your hip. your arms reach out to him, as they wrap slowly around his neck.
“how would like me to take care of you?” he whispers so low, leaning in close, his lips brushing against yours, his right hand going up to play with your sweatshirt, sending a chill down your spine.
“however you want.”
wonwoo pulls you in for a kiss, holding the back of your neck, while his left hand slips under your shorts, lightly caressing the back of your thigh. his tongue teases the roof of your mouth, causing you to let out a small whine, as his left hand takes a hold of your ass, occasionally squishing it.
“do you want me to continue?” wonwoo breathlessly says in between wet kisses. while he fiddles with the hem of your sweatshirt, you nod in response. “words, baby.”
“yes, please.”
“what do you want?”
you and wonwoo are no stranger to sex, but compared to your friends, you and him are considerably on the more… calmer side of things. and thats okay, it’s normal! everyone is different. tonight, however, feels different. even with his constant reassurance, little kisses of i’m here for you, and delicate whispers, you want wonwoo to…
“if you could help me not overthink, that’ll be great,” you feel yourself flush red, looking down at the end of his shirt, fiddling with it. “if you, uh, know what i mean.”
“oh.” wonwoo sighs when your fingers slip under his shirt and ghost over his chest. he’s figured what you meant. “are you sure?”
“as long as you fuck me, make me feel good,” you mumble, feeling yourself grind against him, kissing him wetly. “i could care less how you do it.”
wonwoo hisses at the pressure, and stares at you, a glint of lust and admiration starting to shine through, all while playing with the band of your shorts. he brings up a hand near your face, and pulls you in for another kiss, tongue toying with yours, and when you whine, he sucks the tip of your tongue.
“remember our safe word, baby?”
“kohyangi,” you breathe out, thinking about the cute cat cafe you both went to last year, while wonwoo kisses red blooms on your neck.
“how far do you want me to…”
“how we usually are, but i wanna see you try,” you stop wonwoo from kissing your neck, and you bring him to your face, letting him kiss you more. “you can be a little rougher tonight.”
“fuck, you’re gonna be the end of me.” he gently flips you over, carefully laying you down on the bed, lips never leaving yours until he briefly parts to remove his glasses. putting them on the nightstand clumsily, he comes back for your lips, and you melt against him. through his relentless teasing and his tender touches against you make your head spin. he kisses a little harder, a little more desperate, hands starting to roam around your frame, arms caging you– an underlying message that he isn’t going anywhere, and that he belongs to you, you are his, and that you are deserving of everything. a curious hand slips under your shirt, feeling your bare chest. his other hand toys with the band of your shorts, mumbling if it’s okay to take them off, and he swiftly removes them when you give him a ‘yes’.
“oh, this is pretty,” wonwoo compliments your underwear. it’s a baby blue thong. he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. “they new?”
“um, uh, yes? they were on sale… good deal, too…” you suddenly feel yourself shrink, turning red. you stare at his toned muscles, and you see a satisfied smirk on wonwoo’s face, eyes turning lustful. he pushes the sweatshirt high enough for your chest to be exposed to the air, never breaking eye contact until he swoops down, and starts planting kisses, tongue teasing your nipple, and occasionally biting at some places. “i bought a bunch since… kinda wanted to try wearing these… for you.”
you see wonwoo’s ears turn pink, and feel yourself crawling into a hole.
“aw, cute, my princess wants to treat me.” your brain screams. wonwoo kisses over the healed ink near your hip.“they look great on you, makes your tattoo here even sexier.”
“are.. are you doing the andromeda constellation?” you breathe out, trying to divert his (horny) attention somewhere else. “or is it something else?”
“mmhmm, correct, that’s my good girl,” wonwoo teases and you feel yourself choke on your own spit. he starts toying with the band of your underwear, and bites a mark on the hip bone. you didn’t even realize he’s already settled in between your legs until you feel him breathe. he tongues over the bite mark, soothing it. damn, ain’t this one nice way to go out. “you’re learning so well.”
“shit,” you shyly say between your teeth.
“keep the sweatshirt on, i wanna fuck you in it.”
“good, that was the intention.” you try to counter wonwoo, and you feel yourself twitch when wonwoo presses his thumb over your clothed clit. “does it make you possessive?”
“baby, you have no idea.” he responds, hooking a finger in the band of your thong.“may i?”
you nod at him, and he slowly peels off your underwear. as you slightly raise your hips so he can easily pull them off, he’s awkward with it, making you remove it instead. wonwoo clicks his tongue in slight annoyance. all you do is just smile at him, slipping them off with ease. you sit up (just a bit) to toss them somewhere on the bed or floor, and you don’t realize wonwoo is incredibly close to your pussy until you adjust your positioning. your breath hitches when he breathes.
“hm?” he starts to tease, kissing around the area and the lower stomach, but doesn’t do anything. “you’re pretty down here.”
“babe, please,” you try to sound exasperated but he plants the softest kiss on your clit and you almost collapse your arms. “just nervous, that’s all, even though we’ve done this a lot…”
“it’s okay, baby, i don’t blame you, i get nervous too,”wonwoo murmurs, and he can’t help it but he finds himself licking his lips. “may i eat you out?”
“yes, please.”
he first lightly swipes his tongue from the entrance to the clit, and he does it again, and again, and again, as you let out a soft noise the more he does it. he kisses your clit, and licks it, tongue flicking it a few times, doing a circular motion, and you sigh out a moan, hand resting on the crown of his head. he briefly pauses to use his thumbs to spread you out a little more, and opens his mouth, letting drool drip down on your pussy, watching it drip down, and he goes back in with his tongue. he increases the pressure, and you whine, almost hitting your head against the headboard. he keeps up the pace, moaning against your folds whenever you do, tongue slipping inside you occasionally. he starts to get even more sloppy, messy– making wet noises the more he eats you out.
“my princess is being so so good, so wet,” he mumbles lowly against your folds, hearing how wet he made you, briefly pulling away to kiss your inner thighs. you whine how his finger is teasing your hole, and his lips come back to suck on your clit again. “so needy, all for me.”
“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine breathlessly, feeling wonwoo’s hand grip your thigh a little harder. he looks up, eyes never breaking away from yours, while his tongue slowly licks up from the entrance to your clit. he closes his eyes, relishing in the taste of you. you are sure your thigh is going to bruise, but his head is in between your legs, so it’ll be worth the bruising. “wonwoo, fuck, oh my god,”
“mm, fuck, so sweet,” he mumbles against your pussy. a finger slips inside you, slowly moving back and forth. the bed slightly shakes, and you see that he’s lightly grinding against the sheets, in desperation for some relief. you sigh at the sight, trying to stifle a moan as he puts more pressure with his tongue. “baby, go ahead, be louder.”
“its, fuck, embarrassing! holy shit,” you respond back a little louder, body arching when wonwoo adds another finger and grazes that sweet spot inside. you feel wonwoo pin down your hips with his other hand. “so, fuck, so, so good.”
“good,” wonwoo coos. “how bad do you wanna come?”
“so bad, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” your brain feels dizzy. “please wonwoo, please.”
wonwoo hums, continuing to suck your clit with wet noises and fingering you good. you find yourself mumbling incoherent sentences, and you find yourself feeling a wave of relief and pleasure overtake your body, trying to breathe. you clench around his fingers, hearing wonwoo coax you through your orgasm, leaving little kisses on you of you’re doing so well for me, and my baby, baby, all mine.
“can i spit in your mouth?” wonwoo removes his mouth from you, but his fingers have slowed their movement.
“yes.” you whine at the brief loss.
“open up.” he demands softly, a wet thumb pressing against your bottom lip. you oblige, and he leans in, letting drool drip down from his mouth into yours, his fingers busy with your hole, and uses his tongue to push it in your mouth. you shut your eyes, moaning while wonwoo’s tongue meets with yours.“good girl. was that okay?”
“y-yes,” you say in between wet kisses. another finger slips inside you, making it three, while you both make out, tasting yourself against his tongue. “it was good.”
“do you want me to do it again tonight?” wonwoo slightly rolls on his side, all while fingering you and peppering your neck with more kisses.
“it was really hot but,” you moan, trying to reach the band of his sweatpants. you can see how hard he is, and how much relief he desperately needs. “i don’t know if i wanna do it again. not again tonight, if that’s okay.”
“it’s always okay, baby, thank you,” wonwoo smiles against your neck, and you really wonder how you feel horny and soft all at once. he feels your fingers tease the band of his sweatpants, almost tracing the dent against it.“oh, baby, no need to worry about me.”
“but i want to make you feel good, too,” you say softly, breaths staggering while he fingers you long and slow. “don’t want—fuck— to be the only one.”
“well,” wonwoo gazes at you, eyes half-lidded with a slight fucked out look on his face. “does my girl want to make me feel good? words, baby, i need to hear them.”
“i want to make you feel good, please.”
“how badly?”
“s-so bad,” you whine when wonwoo removes his fingers from you. rolling on top of him, you press your body against his, your fingers holding the band of his sweats. “i want to suck you off.”
“wanna show me how with my fingers?” he brings up his fingers covered in your wetness close to your lips. “how will my baby suck me off?”
“only if you let me jerk you off, too.”
“i’d love that, fuuck,” wonwoo groans when you pull down his sweats and your hand wraps over his hard dick. he’s so fucking hard. your thumb teases the tip, playing with the precum and letting your hand coat itself in it. wonwoo’s fingers slowly go in your mouth, and you swirl your tongue around them. “baby, fuck, you’re such a slut.”
“y-you’re the bigger slut,” you shyly whisper against his fingers. you help wonwoo get out from his sweatpants, leaving him naked, and you start grinding your cunt against his bare thigh. he hisses, feeling how wet you are down there, and his free hand grabs a hold of your hip. “you made me like this.”
“you’re so wet, baby,” wonwoo sighs, pulling you in for a kiss, sighing when you jerk him off slowly. as you slightly pick up the pace, thumbing the slit, wonwoo’s hand reaches from behind to play with your hole. you quickly pull away to let a trail of spit go down his cock for some lubrication, and wonwoo throws his head back, groaning, when you jerk him off faster. “fuck, that’s my girl, go ahead, suck me off.”
“and you’re calling me the slut,” you mumble. you hear wonwoo laugh against your lips, until you feel his hand lightly slap your ass. you sigh at the pain, wonwoo rubbing the reddenning spot. “wow, kinky, are we?”
“you’re cute.”
“you like it.”
“you’re so– oh, fuck,” wonwoo feels his breathing stagger when you slide down, your tongue teasing the tip. you look up, trying hard to maintain eye contact, all while holding his thick cock with your hand (you forget how thick he is, you can barely wrap your hand around it completely) and giving it kittenish licks, before wrapping your lip around the tip. you make a few wet sucking noises, before spitting down on his cock for more lubrication. “fuck, baby, can you take all of me?”
“i haven’t even done anything yet,” you continue to trail your tongue along the veins and stroke him at the girth, and he moans— you feel yourself clench around nothing, wanting to hear more of it. “wanna tell me what should i do?”
“d-do as you please.” he groans out your name, cursing under his breath, and strokes your head as you continue to suck him off. not only does he love it when he ensures you’re vocal about what you want, he loves it when you ask him what he wants. being communicative is something he prioritizes so much (in general, obviously). and during times like these, communication is so so sexy.
you look at him, eyes signaling am i doing good for you?, and wonwoo bites his lip, enthralled by the sight. he really, really, can’t wait to ravish you.
“oh, holy fuck,” his thoughts get slightly interrupted when he feels his cock almost hit the back of your throat. feelings mixed with surprise and arousal that overwhelm him, he bites his lip to avoid a moan slipping out, wrapping his own hand around the base and presses it, edging himself. “oh, fuck, baby, you don’t have to take everything in.”
“b-but,” you remove your mouth from him, a slick pop sound coming out, as a trail of spit and come stick on your mouth. you still use your hands to jerk him off, looking at him with glossed eyes. “i wanna make you feel good.”
“you already are, baby,” wonwoo hitches his breath when you put your mouth back on his cock, a finger trailing your jaw. “but i’m the one who was suppose to fuck you til you can’t think, right? do you still want that, sweetheart?”
“uh-huh,” you mumble. “i-i do.”
“come here, then,” wonwoo encourages you to come up, licking your mouth. he runs a tongue on the roof of your mouth, as you moan while his hand plays with your hole again. “i taste good, don’t i?”
“mmhmm,” you reply against his lips, and wonwoo easily slips two fingers inside you again. he sucks on your bottom lip, fingering you faster, and you find yourself instinctively riding his fingers, moans getting more desperate as his other hand takes a hold of your hip and helps you ride his fingers. “fuck, fuck, fuck, i’m gonna cum again, oh my god, your fingers are so good, woo.”
“that’s it, baby,” wonwoo says, adding in a third finger. you feel his thumb press again your clit. “come for me again, sweetheart.”
you ride out your second orgasm of the night. although it’s not as intense as the first, it feels more of like a softer wave holding you close. wonwoo kisses your neck and collarbones, whispering you praises and love notes as he helps you finish.
“please fuck me already,” you whine into the kiss, and wonwoo starts playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. “wonwoo, please, i want you…”
“patience, baby,” wonwoo whisper in your ear, and you feel his hand go up and down your back. “i’ll take care of you as long as you like me to. can you go on your hands and knees for me, baby?”
“can we kiss first?”
“of course, baby.”
you’ll never get sick of kissing wonwoo, ever. you find how you melt into each other’s warmth, comfort, and love— and how he feels like home, the hugs on rainy days, the shared smiles— you adore how his kisses are reminders of i’m always here and love letters, how much he loves you- all of you—
wonwoo shifts when you move onto the position, him moving his hand down your back. he asks if its okay if he can lift up your hips a little higher, and says good girl when you follow his instruction.
“can i…?” wonwoo asks, raising your hips up, so your ass is sticking up in the air. “can i fuck you holding one of your arms behind your back?”
“holy fuck,” you whisper, looking at him, a part of your face squished by the pillow. you and wonwoo aren’t that experimental, but this… is something. “if that will help you fuck me so hard til i can’t think, then okay.”
wonwoo slows his movements, and stares at you.
oh.
oh.
oh, fuck, that’s hot.
“well, if you say so,” he leans over, tilts your head to give you a kiss, before opening the drawer to grab a condom. “you’re gonna kill me.”
“at least fuck me first.” you joke, and wonwoo chuckles at that, pushing up your sweatshirt to expose your back. he kisses down your spine, and you hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. wonwoo adjusts your body, and you almost feel like a cramp coming on, but it’s okay—
“ready, baby?” wonwoo asks lowly. you nod against the pillow. “words, sweetheart. may i have your hand?”
“mm, yeah, i’m ready, are you?” you put your hand around your back, and you feel wonwoo’s hand wrap around your wrist.
“yeah, i’m putting it in,” wonwoo says, and you feel the tip prod against your entrance, and you bite back a moan before he slowly inserts himself in. you squeeze your eyes shut, gasping against the pillow, remembering to take deep breaths. you need a moment to adjust, but the stretch alone feels wonderful. “you okay?”
“y-yes,” you exhale. “fuck, i feel all of you, so, so much.”
“fuck, you’re so tight.” wonwoo groans, slowly bottoming out. “need a moment?”
“yeah.” you let yourself adjust to his cock, as wonwoo rubs your back (his way of helping you relax). a minute passes, and you start to feel good, inadvertently moving your hips back to his. wonwoo moans, and it encourages you to move faster against him. “f-fuck, oh my god, please fuck me, you’re so big—”
wonwoo finds himself moving his hips fast, a hand gripping your hip, the other pinning your wrist behind your back, as you gasp on how loud, wet, and hard he’s going. as hard and fast-paced his thrusts are, it remains concise and controlled. you hear him groan the more he thrusts into you, and you briefly look back at him, seeing him fling his head back in pleasure. god, it feels so good, the sounds of skin slapping grow louder, breathing out of sync, you feel so full, so fucking full, your head is starting to get dizzy—
your senses come back when wonwoo slows his pace, and you whine, tightening around him as a means to get him to move.
“nuh-uh, don’t come just yet,” wonwoo tuts, shallowly thrusting in you. “i’m not done with you.”
“w-what, fuck! oh my god, please go harder,” you tell him, feeling drool come out from your mouth, and wonwoo lets go of your hand, gently placing it above your head.
“so, so, impatient,” wonwoo slaps your ass, watching you fuck yourself on him. he continues to let you fuck yourself on him, his frame swooping down so he can whisper. “so needy for my cock, hm? didn’t know my baby is such a needy, little slut. look at you fucking yourself on me. i haven’t even fucked you stupid yet, and look at you being so needy for me. my baby is such a cute little whore.”
“wonwoo, please move,” you breathe, looking at him with glossy eyes. wonwoo continues to stare at you with lust and endearment, all while shallowly fucking into you. “i want you so much, ahhhh fuck, please, please.”
“hm? what was that?” wonwoo coos, and you whine even more. you feel like crying. wonwoo rubs his hands down your side. “oh, baby, it’s okay, i’ll give you want you want. wanna tell me what you want?”
“y-you, please.”
“just me?”
“want you to fuck me til i can’t think.”
“that’s it?”
“wanna be y-your cute little whore for you.”
and that’s all it takes for wonwoo to remove himself out from you. you wince at the loss of him, as you feel tears in your eyes, but he steadily grabs you, flipping you on your back. he pumps himself, spitting on his fingers and they go down to your pussy, playing with your clit with his thumb and wraps your legs around his waist.
“keep your legs wrapped for me, okay?” he says, using his long fingers to play with you. “can you do that for me?”
“yes,” you nod, and wonwoo peppers soft kisses around your neck and face. “wonwoo?”
“mm, baby?”
“can you spit in my mouth again?”
“oh, fuck, yes,” it catches wonwoo off guard and you find it cute how flustered he got. “i can, yeah.”
“good,” you nudge his back with your leg, telling him to start moving.
“ready?”
“mmhm- ah, fuck!” you nod, but wonwoo slips inside easily, holding onto your hips hard, fucking you at a hard, controlled pace. “oh my god, fuuuck, fuck!”
wonwoo smiles, watching your expressions change accordingly. he takes in all of your noises, expressions, all of you, how you ask to go faster, how you’re trying to fuck back too, how you’re willing to make it good for both of you. wonwoo takes a hold of your hand, putting it above your head. he gets caught off guard when you put your other hand up, and wraps his hand around your wrists, pinning them against the sheets.
“fuck, baby, you’re so tight, your pretty pussy loves taking me in, hm?” wonwoo whispers, and his free hand creeps up on your neck, but doesn’t add pressure on it. “open up.”
you oblige, and you feel him twitch. you tighten in instinct, as he lets spit drip down from his mouth to yours, and sticks his tongue in your mouth to push it in again. you moan at that, eyes going shut, all while wonwoo fucks harder and harder and harder. you feel nothing running in your brain, it feels numbing, feels exhilarating, you just feel yourself get lost into the pleasure and the praise wonwoo kisses on your skin. you numbingly hear him say words and words of i love you, can’t believe you are all mine, fuck you’re too good for me, come for me, your senses get blurred out, like your feeling everything all at once, and you don’t know when but you feel yourself unravel, coming undone as wonwoo finishes too, hips stuttering.
“baby…” wonwoo sighs against your lips, hands cautiously rubbing your sides, while putting his body weight against yours. “come back to me.”
“mmrgh?” you make a weird noise, feeling warm and a little light-headed. you hear wonwoo telling you to take deep breaths, and you use your hands to hold onto his shoulders. kisses and kisses and kisses of you did so well scatter across your skin like a cluster of stars, as wonwoo strokes your head with a comforting touch. “wonwoo?”
“m’ here baby, i’m right here,” he says, carefully slipping out from inside you after he softens. “i’m here, are you here?”
“yeah, sorry,” you finally collect yourself together, staring at the ceiling. wonwoo shifts on the bed, rolling over next to you to discard the condom, and plops next to you, an arm wrapping around your waist. you look over at him, lost in his bright eyes, and fucked out glow. “you did it.”
“wha?”
“you fucked me stupid, i don’t remember thinking at all.” you laugh. wonwoo’s face turns more pink, and he grumbles into your neck, kissing a spot or two.
“was that all okay?” he asks, stroking your head with one hand, playing with your hands with the other. “we did a little experimenting tonight.”
“it was good, yes, thank you,” you tell him, stroking his cheek fondly. “kinda wanna do more of it, you know.”
“oh.”
“oh my god, don’t act like a shy boy when you fucked me with your big dick.”
“i’m…” wonwoo get even more shy, and you laugh, kissing his nose and his cheeks. “just wasn’t expecting that, that’s all.”
“is it a lot for you?”
“no, i’m glad you trust me, and that i’m able to trust you.” wonwoo says, rubbing your stomach. “we should clean up.”
“eh, i kinda wanna lay here.” you say, sort of sprawling out on the bed. you stretch your arm a little weird so it ends up across wonwoo’s body. “too tired.”
“baby, you work in healthcare. didn’t they teach you to pee after sex?”
“i work in an eye clinic!”
“well yeah! same idea! it’s still healthcare! i’m getting you to clean up.” wonwoo says, slipping out of bed and grab his sweatpants. he slips it on, and goes over to your side, but you start rolling away, not wanting to get out of bed. “baby, don’t do that.”
“i want to cuddle first,” you say, not bothering to fight back when wonwoo grabs your body to carry you to the bathroom. “i feel like jelly.”
“good, that’s what i intended,” wonwoo kisses your face when you wrap your arms around his neck. “we can cuddle after. what do you want for breakfast?”
“eggs. toast, if we have bread. do we have bread?” wonwoo shrugs . “uh, coffee? oh! and maybe fried rice.”
“you work tomorrow?” he asks. you shake your head. “good, we’ll sleep in, eat breakfast, you wanna go play stardew valley together?”
you grin, giving him a kiss.
god, you love him so fucking much.
#seventeen#seventeen imagines#wonwoo#wonwoo x reader#seventeen smut#svthub#svt x reader#zu writes#svt#seventeen fic#GOD IM BACKSJDJDJ
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You and Hanma have the habit of staying awake much past bedtime.
Or at least what can be called a bedtime in the chaotic life you lead. And maybe its the nature of his job that has him crawling to your bed late at night, where you're fixing your eyes on a Youtube video to keep them open and the strain makes them ache. But it's a regular occurance and you think maybe the small sacrifice of sleep is worth it when you consider how little you see of him. If it means snatching the hours with him then why not?
And really, he pretends like he might be exacerbated, making comments about how you "need your beauty sleep" but maybe he secretly likes it, small sacrifices to you that are worth ten times that to him.
'I thought I said you shouldn't have waited up for me,' he says, slipping down to next to nothing before sliding in next to you, as close as he possibly can be to steal the pockets of your warmth, strong arms that pull you entirely to his chest, curls of blond-brown hair that fall over his forehead when he leans down to nose at your neck.
'Mhm, wanted to though, you're always gone when I get up, I don't get to see you often enough sometimes,' you say. 'And it's just sleep, you know I'll be fine. Big girl remember?'
He pretends like it's only exacerbation that has him telling you, 'mhm you're getting too comfortable disboeying me aren't you sweetheart? I know you're my big girl but you still need to be sleeping.' But you sense the mirth underneath anyways, the soft undertone of sleep that leaves his voice a little raspy and rough and gravelly.( oh my fucking god help me im son in love fukvnnvgfkvkf )
You feign a tut under your breath and turn to move closer still, as if you could live inside his skin, and make a home inside his chest like that. 'Mhm yeah yeah, I know, whatever you say.' A little slower, a little more breathy and still fighting the sleep threatening to take you under and stifling a giggle all the same.
'"whatever you say?" You really do love giving me attitude don't you pretty girl?'
'Maybe. You love me too much to be annoyed at me though.'
He grumbles under his breath and you sense more than see him smiling from where his lips press to your hair, his glasses discarded on the side table drawer. And it's only when he doesn't respond that you turn to him to see the soft crinkle of his eyes now softening as he slips further into sleep just a moment away.
'You sleepy baby?' you say and your hand comes up to brush an eyelash from his cheek, watching the rest flutter and his throat slip and slide from where the thin gold chain sits neatly against his collarbones.
'mhm nah, just resting my eyes a bit,' he says and curls further against you, arms that pull flush against your stomach, big hands that press against your skin, all firmness and love and warmth. 'keep talking for me yeah? y'know I like the sound of your pretty voice.'
And when you do, menial details that never mean much, what you did today, where you went, what you ate, it never feels forced, never feels like you're overburdening him, never feels like anything but love especially when you feel his breath evening out against you, soft snores that lift the hairs on the nape of your neck, a warm sigh and tightening of his arms that never relents, that keeps you exactly where you love to be most. Right next to him.
Reblogs appreciated
(not proofread and yes left w all my artistic expression lol, my actual true feelings and comment s lmao enjoy)
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