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astridthevalkyrie · 11 months

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honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

After Jumin marries you, slowly, his threads start to untangle.

a/n: my first and probably last long jumin fic. this has been in the works for months, literally what i've been stalling on superior for (pre keigo 😭) i hope you all enjoy! i love this man <3

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, some depressing thoughts, smut, oral (m and f receiving), penetrative sex, references to kinks that they both have, references/nightmares about abuse including sexual harassment, insecurity, jumin's comedy lol

word count: 13.2k (only a little less than the last superior chapter that is cray cray)

There is a knock on your door.

It makes you jump. Not that you’re nervous—it’s a hotel and several of your friends and family are here to see you get married, so naturally many of them know where your room is. The room itself is, of course, lavish, a paradise compared to most of your previous lodgings. Honestly, you miss the penthouse.

No, that’s not quite right. You just miss being curled up on the couch, tucked into Jumin’s chest with Elizabeth on your lap, wine on his lips and love in his eyes. You miss him, even though you saw him last this morning. You know he’s in the hotel lobby being forced to get wasted by Luciel, because the hacker in question has sent you dozens of videos of your fiancé. In one of them, when Zen reminds him he’s getting married tomorrow, a goofy smile breaks out on his face as he ducks his head.

Maybe the wedding wasn’t necessary. Maybe you two could have just signed the necessary papers without having to go a full day without seeing each other. How are you supposed to sleep tonight? You could call him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Sighing, you make your way to the door. If it’s one of your friends trying to convince you to let loose or a family member coming to check up on you, you’re not in the mood.

When you open the door, your fiancé is standing there.

“Jumin!”

All questions on the tip of your tongue disappear when he brings you into his arms, burying his face in your neck with a content sigh. There’s no urgency in it, just a quiet, sudden happiness, like he’s fully aware that in just a few hours he won’t have to worry about you being anywhere but in his arms again.

“Thank you.” His voice breaks the silence, muffled on your skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your eyes well up with tears. What an emotional bride you’re turning out to be. And what a wonderful groom you have, to somehow know exactly what you need even when he’s not completely sober.

Slowly, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in the scent of his shampoo as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

There has never been a lovelier sight than your smile, and Jumin hopes you know that.

If you don’t, he’ll just have to convince you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You’re sporting a grin for him—just for him—wearing nothing but one of his shirts with Elizabeth the Third scurrying out from between your feet when she sees him. There’s a pink bottle on the counter. Frosting, he thinks. “I hope you don’t mind, but having a chef cook for us for a month straight has ruined my palate for anything else. I had to cook for myself again before I got spoiled. I can call him to make you dinner if you don’t want to eat what I made, though!”

“Of course not.” The urge to embrace you is unbearable. A month after the wedding, and his first day back at work after the honeymoon, he still can’t seem to keep his hands off. “What did you make? I’ll eat anything.”

He leans down to take Elizabeth the Third in his arms, scratching the back of her head softly. “Alright! I made stew and baked some cupcakes, I hope you like it. But you should probably change first. Slip into something more comfortable.”

“Ironic, considering you and I are wearing the same thing.”

“Well…” You lean over the counter, making a show of ogling him. “If you really want to match, you can leave the shirt on and take off your pants.”

It’s impossible to even try and stop the smile growing on his face. “Would you like that?”

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

The nickname makes him flush pleasantly, but instead of taking you up on that extremely tempting offer, he simply walks up and presses a kiss to your forehead. You pout, and with the tact of knowing Elizabeth is still in his arms, you tug on his tie and kiss him properly. Jumin’s brain turns off, if only for a few seconds. As long as you kiss him and he kisses you back, the only thing he knows is you, you, you and nothing else.

Now, instead of changing, he’s holding his cat and kissing you in the kitchen. With just a minor breakaway and murmured apology, he’s no longer holding his cat. His hands slide around your back and pull you in, and your hands meet at the base of his neck. You. Only you.

“Ju-min,” you admonish breathlessly, the second he pulls away to trail hurried kisses down your neck. “Dinner first.”

“Mm. I’m not hungry.” Or he is, but not for dinner.

Your hands come to rest on his chest, but you don’t pull away, and Jumin is beyond grateful. He doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to sleep or shower or do anything else when he could be showing you just how much he’d missed you at work today.

Slightly pressed into the counter, you place your hands back and jump onto it, and he eagerly steps in between your legs to kiss you again. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands tangle in his hair—a habit of yours, he’s noticed, to mess his hair up. He doesn’t mind. Not if it makes you happy.

Finally, you pull away and before he can dive back in for yet another kiss, you dip your finger into the bowl next to you and offer it up to him. Without even considering it, he takes your finger in between his lips and licks the gravy off.

It’s only after he registers the taste does Jumin realize how intimate the action is. And of course, he knows that you’re married, that you and he have seen each other absolutely bare and open to one another, that he is literally making out with you in his—in your—in your shared kitchen. He knows that despite everyone thinking that the marriage was rushed and impulsive, this will be a long road, and he plans to stick by you for each and every single step. He knows that tasting something off your finger is hardly the most domestic thing you two will do.

But it doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies he feels in his stomach. It doesn’t stop him from thinking my wife is letting me taste what she made, because she’s perfect. That’s not to mention how wonderful the taste actually is.

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

“Incredible.” He takes your hand and dips your finger in the bowl, stealing another taste right after. “More than incredible. The best stew I’ve ever had.”

“I know you’re flattering me.” Leaning forward, you take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Softly, gently, like he’s something fragile that will break if you use any force. “But I’m not complaining. Keep going.”

“Food is always better when a beautiful woman is the one serving it.”

You beam. The butterflies in his stomach do a victory soar.

Jumin Han is in love.

///

Zen has a dream about you. That’s when the problem starts.

He tells it to the group in great detail—it’s not anything romantic or sexual, but Jumin doesn’t see a reason for you to be in his subconscious at all, even if you were just the supposed director for Zen’s dream movie. You’re not any sort of movie director, so the dream is ridiculous at any rate.

It doesn’t stop him from pouncing on you the second you two get back home. You don’t even get to take a seat before he’s pressing you against the door, ensuring it’s locked (the last thing he needs is for one of the security guards to see this and have dreams about you too) and kissing you possessively.

“Jumin—?” There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it cuts off into a delicious moan when he starts sucking and biting all the same spots he knows he left hickeys on during your honeymoon.

“Spend the day with me,” he whispers. “Just me, no one else.”

An amused giggle bubbles from your throat. “I was already gonna do that, honeybunny.”

Good. That’s plenty of time for him to mark up your neck (and other places) so that everyone knows you’re his, and other people can stop dreaming of you. Already his mind is filled with wicked thoughts, of how he can make you cry and beg and scream today. From the time you two spent on your honeymoon, he knows you can get quite loud if he puts his mind to it.

The only limit is his imagination.

“Jumin.” Your head tilts back against the door, eyes closed as his tongue soothes a bite mark he just made. “Ah, J-Jumin, are you jealous?”

“No.” He is.

“I know what possessiveness looks like.” You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to each fingertip. “You know that me being in Zen’s dream isn’t something in our or even his control?”

“Of course I know that.” He huffs, impatiently fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He kisses you again, and you hum in understanding, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. It’s amazing, no matter how many times he thinks everyone would dismiss him for being ridiculous over something like this, you are always there to prove that at least one person wouldn’t. And you taste. So. Damn. Good.

So why not taste you all over? Jumin hungrily slides his tongue over your teeth, seeking entrance. When your mouth parts for him, he tastes you intimately, swallowing your soft sighs.

“For the record,” you mumble, out of breath, “I only ever dream about you.”

“As do I, darling.” He pulls you closer still, thinking about how good you’ll taste when he has his mouth on your pussy. “As do I.”

///

This need to prove himself to you extends beyond the sexual—you laugh so much when you’re around Luciel and Yoosung. Actual laughter that is so different from the polite smiles and chuckles that are in response to his own words.

He hates it. He hates it so very much. He wants to make you laugh, full blown and unabashed. As much as he likes making you giggle, he wants to make you laugh so hard that there are tears pouring down your cheeks. And his experience has quite readily set him up for the expectation that if he wants something, he will have it.

And now, what he really, really wants is to see his wife lose her in laughter because of him.

That means it’s time to bring out the big guns.

Right now you’re under the covers, reading glasses on as you flip through a book. The book in question is something from his personal library (when he showed it to you, mentioning a scene from Beauty and the Beast, you had promptly told him that he was not a beast, but that you finally understood how the princess felt in that scene).

To an extent, Jumin feels bad when he distracts you from work or requests your attention. But he tries to remind himself that if you didn’t want it, you were more than capable of telling him as much. And your reaction to him crawling on top of you with his arms on either side would certainly not be to put the book aside and pull him down to lay on your chest with a kiss to the crown of his head.

For once in his life, Jumin is certain that he is loved.

“I have a joke,” he tells you matter-of-factly, and your brow raises.

“What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises himself up so he can take a good look at your face.

“Hit Seoul, hit Daejon, hit Daegu, hit Busan, hit it!”

There’s a long pause, and your surprised expression slowly morphs into a giggle, then at his grin, a chortle. Jumin laughs first, and then you do too, throwing your head back. It’s single-handedly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“W-what—“ You’re wheezing now, shoulders shaking. “What does that even mean?”

“I cast a spell on you. Those who laugh are no ordinary souls, for your information.”

“You are so perfect.” The praise catches him off guard, but your body is still shaking from laughter, and in your eyes he sees something like adoration. “How are you so perfect?”

That is definitely not a word he associates with his humor. His status, money, company, business acumen? Yes, perfect, as they were always meant to be. But the little flips in his stomach tell him that none of those things are what you’re referring to. The look in your eyes—he never sees you look at material objects or money that way. He has only ever seen it aimed towards him, and Jumin realizes with a start that there is no need to compete with Zen or Yoosung or Luciel—because really, there is no competition to begin with.

///

Being a workaholic comes with benefits. Everything always gets done. And he enjoys doing business, so there is no negative side effect…other than the lost time that could be spent with his wife. Typing away on the computer he has set up in his study, Jumin sighs, cracking his neck every half hour or so. He’s been at it for hours, but there’s still more left to do.

A soft knock makes him look up. You peek your head in, blinking sleepily and all wrapped up in a blanket. “Sorry to disturb,” in a whisper that barely reaches his ears, “can I sleep here, honey?”

Jumin beckons you in, looking around dubiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t think there’s any surface here you’d be comfortable on. I don’t want you to have an ache by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Your eyes keep blinking closed, as though you’re barely staying awake. All your words are hushed, but you still manage to clamber over to his side of the desk, blanket in tow, and fall onto his lap, burying your face in his chest.

With a start, he catches you, holding you close. “What is it, sweetheart? You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, getting even more comfortable. “The bed’s too cold.”

Something indescribable squeezes his chest. Above everything, the pleasure that you would rather seek warmth from him rather than get another blanket is all-consuming. Without another word, he stands with you in his arms and walks to the bed. The second he steps into the bedroom, your grip on him becomes a little tighter.

He huffs back a small laugh. “I’m not going anywhere. I’d just rather you sleep here.”

Pulling out a second blanket from the closet for good measure, he lays down on the bed with you, throwing both blankets over your bodies before wrapping you up in his arms. You sigh happily, legs mixing with his and face pressing in his chest once more.

“Sorry for distracting you.” Now your voice is barely audible. “Mm…you’re just…so much warmer…”

“Can I ask you a favor?” You hum softly in response. “Please never apologize for demanding my attention. I am yours, that includes my body, my soul, and my time. Should you ever need me to sleep and I am in the office, please call me and I’ll come home immediately. I’ll take the jet home if I have to. That doesn’t just stop at my time either. If there is anything, anything, you would like, then all you have to do is ask me. I’ll buy you anything. The world is at your disposal.”

There’s a pause and Jumin thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you break the silence, quietly asking, “Is it okay if I ask you for something, then?”

“Anything.”

Cute but glossy eyes peer up at him, and you blink rapidly. “A kiss?”

Jumin places his hands on your cheeks, catching the stray tear that falls. Then he leans in, and everything is right with the world.

///

Ice Prince.

Jumin has no idea where the title actually came from. He doesn’t see what’s wrong with someone having control of their emotions. Is he expected to cry or rage at every little thing? That’s a genuine question. Maybe he doesn’t show much emotion at all, and he should. He’s open to advice.

It shouldn’t even be on his mind. He’s watching a soap opera, and the most beautiful woman in the world is in his arms. He enjoys watching your reactions more than watching the show itself, whether you’re holding back an aww or wincing. Every so often, you look up and meet his eyes, giving him a sweet smile each and every time before placing your head back on his chest.

Still, he can’t get the article he read earlier out of his head. Has the Ice Prince really settled down? What kind of life does the new Mrs. Han lead? One can only imagine that she does not get many warm moments with Jumin Han. A speedy divorce would not be surprising.

Just the thought makes him tug you in closer, the idea of you leaving never failing to terrify him. He’s gotten better, he doesn’t freak out over you exiting the penthouse or hanging out with friends or working. He’d told himself harshly that he would not drive you away with his overt possessiveness.

But maybe he’s going to drive you away if he can’t learn to show you his emotions and instead continues to be…well, an ice prince, as much as he hates the term.

“Jumin.” You’re pressing a kiss to his throat, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you tired, honey? We can go to bed.”

When he looks down, you’re gazing concernedly up at him. He doesn’t feel like a villain when you look upon him like this. And holding you close is not the only privilege he has here. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you, and you melt in almost immediately. Jumin knows that you’re starting to get sleepy because you don’t make any move to straddle him further.

The man who knows you best—that is what the articles should be about. Doting husband. Family man. Your partner. How could anyone think he was cold or heartless to you?

“Juju,” you mumble softly, not bothering to break the kiss, “we should get to bed.”

Yes, you’re right. However…

“May I ask you a question?” His curiosity and slight anxiousness requires him to make sure. If he’s ever done anything to make you think he’s some kind of robot, he needs to get rid of such behavior immediately.

Your lips quirk like he’s said something funny. “You may.”

“Have I ever seemed…cold to you?” Almost as if to remind you before you answer, he holds your hand, squeezing gently, while the other hand remains on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Since we’ve been together, I mean. Have I ever acted anything like an…” Jumin cringes just saying it out loud. “Ice prince?”

The question seems to take you aback, and you blink a few times. Your eyes—warm, beautiful eyes—first stare at him with a certain confusion, then quickly become infused with a sudden anger.

“Did someone say that about you? Who was it?”

“No one,” he responds, then hastily amends, “there have always been articles calling me that. I just happened to see one today, so it was on my mind.”

Now, you really do straddle him, threading your fingers through his hair. The anger has dulled into a stubborn crossness. With a deep scowl, you kiss his forehead and say, “That is ridiculous. You have been nothing but warm to me, Jumin Han.”

The same warmth you’re talking about spreads across his cheeks, painting them pink, but you’re not done.

“Since when do you care about those articles anyway? They’ve always been inane. Remember when everyone was convinced that you would marry Sarah?” Here you huff, and he hates to admit that he loves seeing you jealous, even if over someone he never even considered getting to know. “And you had to set them straight for them to print anything accurate. Maybe I should give a press statement of my own. Ice Prince my ass.”

“Such language,” Jumin says lowly, already hiding his face in your neck. You’re still peeved, muttering things under your breath as you stroke his hair, angry kisses pressed to his skin in the middle of your rant.

Eventually, you tire yourself out, falling asleep right there on his chest, a common occurrence. He doesn’t mind it one bit, it’s actually really easy to carry you to bed. For some reason, Jumin feels much, much lighter.

///

His wife is a party planner. An event planner, technically, since you’ll take some requests for meetings as well, but it’s mostly parties. He knows that due to your marriage, there’s been an increase in the amount of clients wanting you to plan their events. Even before, you’d said your schedule had always been sporadic, revolving around whatever the current most pressing event was.

Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised, with how masterfully you pulled off the RFA party.

He’s more than proud of you, of course. He’s now attended quite a few of the events you put together, and it always leaves him impressed. You’ve confided in him about how you’d like to either switch to a company that exclusively does weddings or start your own, and despite your protests, he’s fully prepared to finance such an endeavor when the time comes.

The only issue about your job, and his job as well, is that your schedules can be sporadic. There are days where you can work without even leaving the penthouse, and then there are days where you are running around and don’t return until 2 AM. Jumin can hardly get upset when he’s taunted the clock with his record times at coming home as well.

Can’t get upset at you, that is. Being upset at the situation is perfectly reasonable. He wants to spend time with his wife, dammit. You’re his favorite person in the world, all the things he wants to do involve being with you.

So when he’s the one who’s arriving at 2 in the morning, he deflates to see that you’re fast asleep, a couple documents and your phone in the bed next to you. How many times has he told you he would set up a separate room for you to work in? Each time, you shake your head and say all you need is your phone and laptop, and you can work anywhere. That doesn’t take into account your health, though. The place you relax should not be associated with work, or it leads to a less relaxing sleep cycle. He once read a study about that.

It might be hypocritical, but Jumin misses you. He wants to talk to you so badly it pains him, and not just longing phone calls that always leave him wanting more.

Loosening his tie, he waits for a second before falling hard onto the bed.

Your eyes flutter open immediately, and in your daze you take in your still-dressed husband. With a sleepy smile, you push away all the papers next to you to snuggle into his arms. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” One arm secured around your back, he pulls you as close to him as you can. He sees you breathe in his lingering cologne, and it makes him downright giddy that his scent seems to bring you comfort. “Shouldn’t a loving wife be waiting up for her husband?”

You yawn, throwing one leg around him. “Not when the husband returns at an ungodly time and the wife has an early morning site inspection. Did you have dinner?”

“I did. Did you?”

“Mmh. Yeah. I refrigerated some in a container if you wanna take it to work tomorrow.”

This is one of his favorite domestic things you do—and he doesn’t even think you realize how much he appreciates it. If it’s between having something from a five star restaurant or having your cooking, the latter will win each and every time. Sometimes he wants to brag to the whole world, although the most he’ll do is slip how tasty his lunch was today to Assistant Kang (who will almost always respond with a dry, “Glad to hear that, Mr. Han.”).

“I will.” Jumin kisses your lips, smiling when he feels you respond with little effort. “I’ve missed you.”

Your arms snake around his waist as you tuck your head under his chin. Jumin sighs when he feels you kiss his collarbone. “I’ve missed you too.” All he needs is your breath on his skin, or your hands on his face, or your voice filling his ears. It relaxes him instantly. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“I’ll be in the office all day.” Already he groans, burying his face in your hair in the hopes that it will preemptively soothe the headache sure to form tomorrow. At first he didn’t understand why you insisted on using the same hair conditioner you always did instead of a much more expensive one he could buy for you, but the smell of your hair is so exquisite that now he wholly prefers it (although there is a special kind of tingling in his chest reserved for the moments you smell like him).

“Same. After my inspection, I’m going to be meeting four new clients, and I’m going to guess they all want priority.” You roll your eyes, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow is also Mr. Wang’s wedding, so I’ll be back late.”

At his wordless whine, you giggle, kissing his cheek. Then after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, a soft hum sounds from your throat.

“I have an idea.”

///

The click of Jaehee’s heels alerts him to her entrance, and Jumin straightens in his chair, accepting the papers that she hands him.

“Thank you. Have you eaten, Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee blinks at him once, then twice, like he’s grown an extra head. Then she slowly nods, the surprised expression melting back into her perfectly professional one once more. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“Not yet. I brought a container my wife packed for me.”

“Honey, I don’t think she really cares to know that.”

“I see. She is a pretty good cook if I recall correctly.”

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so sweet, it’s annoying. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Mr. Han, are you alright? You look a bit out of it—should I call for a doctor?”

“Do it.” He smiles at the papers in his hands. “I won’t stop you.”

“Call…call the doctor?”

“Will you kiss me back, in front of all your employees?”

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

“Right away, sir,” Jaehee responds in a sort of strangled voice, and it’s not until he hears the click of her heels again that he remembers she was there. In almost a flash, she leaves his office.

“What did she say?”

Jumin touches the tiny earpiece that’s been on all day, adjusting it only slightly. “I honestly have no idea.”

///

Jumin hates leaving. But he does, well, what is the phrase? Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave? Something along those lines, is what you’ve said to him. He’s not sure it applies here, since he is actually leaving to go abroad for a few days, and already he’s looking forward to his reunion with you, but he didn’t expect that both of you would be so needy for each other the night before the flight.

It starts with a few kisses, a pout on your lips that he thinks he can kiss away if he just tries hard enough. Telling you in hushed whispers that he’ll miss you an unfathomable amount. Your understanding on a pragmatic level, and your clinginess the second you both laid down. Both are appreciated more than he can say.

“What if I want to watch a movie with you?”

Kiss. “Just wait a week for me, my love.”

“What if the bed is too cold and I need you to warm me up?”

Kiss. “One week, I promise. No more than a week.”

“What if aliens invade the penthouse and I have no one to protect me?”

Kiss. “Tell them that your husband is going to kill them…in a week.”

For a few minutes, it goes on like this, with you proposing other scenarios and Jumin doing his best to both reassure you and make you laugh. He lays kiss upon kiss to your lips, and perhaps subconsciously, they become more ravenous, demanding. Seeking more. Seeking your conviction on just how much you will miss him.

“Jumin,” you breathe into his mouth. Jumin, Jumin. He loves how you say his name.

You’re seeking something as well, the warmth that you are so certain will disappear along with him. On one hand, he hates that his princess has to sleep without him at all, especially when she clearly doesn’t want to. And on the other hand, knowing that you’ll be here, missing him so desperately, makes his heart flutter. You’ll miss him. You’ll miss him.

Within moments, you’re on top of him, seated on his lap and unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. He’s responding in kind, leaving love bites on your neck as he slides your night robe off your shoulders.

“What if I get lonely?” you ask, more demure than you actually are. “What if I need you, and my fingers aren’t enough?”

His hands press into your hips, hard enough to bruise. You mewl at the slight pain, and he manages to hiss, “I never want your fingers to be enough. If you wait for me, princess, I’ll make you cum more times than you can handle when I get back.” Even if just the idea of you sending him a video or even calling him as you touch yourself was incredibly appealing. Maybe next time. This week, he would have you think of nothing but his own fingers, his tongue, his cock.

And what better way to do that than to remind you how they feel?

“I’ll be gone seven days exactly.” Spoken more to your breasts than you, but he does gaze up at you reverently as he kneads them in his hands. “Maybe tonight I can make you cum once for every day I won’t be here. Would you like that?”

He jerks his thigh up against your core before you can answer, so you nod frantically, mouth falling open. “Uh huh!”

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

The trip right before Valentine’s is the worst. It’s all Jumin can do to finish work before running like a madman through several different stores, picking up this and that. He insists on a different bag for each purchase, despite the clerks gently pointing out that he can put a lipstick tube in the same bag as a pair of heels and nothing will happen, but he doesn’t want to. He would like to see you open every item with a new spark of delight in your eyes.

Usually, he would return late at night, always opting to finish the day’s work and catch a flight right after instead of waiting for morning, because this way he would arrive home, gather you up in his arms as you slept soundly, and then bask in your surprise and delight when you woke the next morning.

And this time would have been no different if one of the departments had not messed up, forcing him to wake up on Valentine’s Day still out of the country. After five days’ worth of work forced into two hours, a shopping spree and a quick call with you, he nearly takes the wheel from the pilot himself before Jaehee begs him to just sit and try to enjoy the ride home. The rest of the trip, they are engaged in a glaring contest every time she looks up from the video she is watching on her laptop.

As soon as the door opens, he hears a surprised cry of his name, and then you’re barreling into him—all the bags in Jumin’s hands fall to the floor in favor of catching you and hefting you up in the air for a spin.

“I thought—“ Kiss. “That you—“ Kiss. “Weren’t coming back today!“ Deeper kiss.

“I couldn’t miss my first Valentine’s with you, my love.” The deepest kiss of all.

The two of you only stop because his bodyguards are coming into the room after him, with more bags. Your eyes widen as you take in all of them, and your sharp mind has already pieced together what’s going on. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course.” Jumin knows that the way you’re latching onto him with such a tight grip is a more priceless gift than anything in these bags. “Why don’t you open everything? I wish to see your reaction.”

And so you do. The makeup, the shoes, the clothes, the jewelry, the books, the decor, all of fine quality and all things well thought out with your interests in mind. With every single item, no matter how big or small, you gasp, or squeal, or simply smile ever so widely. And without fail, you kiss him right on the lips each time.

Jumin is dizzy only halfway into the opening process—he must start buying you gifts far more often if this is the reward he gets.

However, you see beyond just his outward appearance, and you place the next bag he hands you aside without so much as a glimpse at it before clambering onto his lap. Hands on his cheeks, your thumbs smooth over where he’s sure eyebags are forming. “My poor Juju,” you whisper, “you look really tired, honey.”

Honey, honey, honey. How joyful he feels when you call him honey. “As always, you see right through me. I can’t hide from you, can I?”

“I never want you to hide from me.” A sweet kiss pressed to his cheek makes his stomach jump, like he’s a teenage boy with a crush. “Let’s lay down, shall we? We can finish opening everything afterwards.”

Jumin concedes, rising hand in hand with you until you’re both on the bed, curled up in each other. “What a terrible Valentine’s this turned out to be. I’m sorry, my love.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, kissing him slow, soft and smooth. “What are you talking about? You’re here where I can hold you, we’re both off work, and you’ve gifted me more than anyone else ever has or will in my life.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied that he’s set a standard that no one else can ever match for you. “But is that…enough?”

“Enough?” Your tone is incredulous. “Jumin, just you being here is more than enough. I love you so, so much, and I—“ You cut yourself off, slightly backing up as though you’re trying not to overwhelm him (a ridiculous notion, he would love nothing more than for you to overwhelm his every sense). “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have married you.”

This time he kisses you, the idea of sleep slipping further and further away because really, why should he close his eyes when he can only see you when they’re open? Why should he rob himself of the privilege to gaze upon your lovely face and listen to your quiet, soothing voice? Why should he do anything else, eat or drink or work or play, when he could simply kiss you for the rest of his life?

“I love you,” he breathes, pulling you closer because you simply can never be close enough. “Happy Valentine’s, my precious wife.”

///

Of course, the first time your schedule allows you to accompany him on a business trip he’s ecstatic. Finally a week without the headache of returning to an empty hotel room, and instead what will feel like more of a vacation, especially once he completes the necessary work and the two of you can spend the rest of the days lazing by the beach.

Because of the honeymoon, Jumin had become well acquainted with your fear of flying, and had arranged your seats in his private jet to be close together. As the jet takes off, he holds your hand in his as you squeeze, eyes shut tightly for the takeoff. Reassuringly, he kisses your hand, rubbing the back of it while his other hand strokes Elizabeth the Third’s head through the carrier she’s in.

“Poor Elizabeth,” you manage to whimper, still looking quite pale even after the takeoff is done, “I hope she doesn’t get airsick.”

“She doesn’t,” Jumin reassures. Elizabeth is used to such flights, unlike you. He’d much rather you focus on your own health right now.

The stewardess for the flight comes through with the cart of food and drinks. “Anything for you, Mr. Han?”

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

“Oh, um…” You smile sheepishly up at her. “Would you happen to have apple juice?”

The woman blinks once, then, as though she’s fighting back a laugh, says, “Apple juice, ma’am?”

“Is that a problem?” Jumin cuts in sharply before you can answer, glaring daggers.

“No, no! O-of course I can give you apple juice, ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend—“

“No offense taken.” Even nauseous and teased, you smile kindly, eyes lighting up when you have your drink. If he remembers correctly, he used to drink apple juice when he would get airsick as a child as well.

When the stewardess leaves, you lean over and press an apple-tasting kiss to his lips, and he catches a few drops of the juice in his mouth. It tastes yummy, or maybe it’s just the taste of you that he likes.

Probably the latter. Either way, he’s eager to get this vacation started.

///

“I feel so good that you’re here. Thank you so much for coming. I…never want to let you go.”

…

“I’ve trapped you here, haven’t I?” he asks one night, after he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

You’re wide awake, though, and he feels your lips on his throat as you whisper, “I’ve never once felt trapped with you, Jumin.”

///

You’re a lightweight, and it’s the most adorable thing Jumin has ever seen. Including cat photos. Including Elizabeth the Third. And you don’t realize just how cute you are, which only makes you cuter.

“Juju,” you whine, when he starts to guide you to bed.

“You have to sleep, my dear.” Almost smugly, he places a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Sleep and allow me to take care of you in the morning.”

The protest you seemed to be ready to fire back morphs into a happy giggle as you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “I do like when you take care of me.”

“Likewise.”

For some reason, that sends you into more giggles as you press against him. “You talk so smart like. I love when you use big words.”

Biting back a smile, Jumin raises a brow. “Is likewise a big word?”

“Anything is a big word when you say it.” You kiss him softly, sliding your hands in his hair. You love messing up his hair, almost as much as he loves letting you do it. “You’re so smart. So clever. Your brain is like…” To exaggerate your point, you lean your head away, with his hands on your back to keep steady. “Soooo huge.”

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

“Jumin!” Laughing, you hit his shoulder, only for him to tug you in close, making you squeak. The only downside to how well you two know each other now is that he doesn’t get to see your beautifully embarrassed face, but he still gets some wins when he catches you off guard.

“I’m only kidding, my love.” Watching your lips part for him as he leans in, Jumin kisses you this time, gently sucking your lower lip between his teeth. Let no one say he wasn’t out and open with his oral fixation when it came to you. “I’m honored to know you find me intelligent.”

You beam, nearly blinding him with how brilliant your smile is. “Intelligent, and funny. So, so funny. I love your jokes.” Now you turn your cheek, placing sloppy kisses along his jaw. “And handsome. I have the most handsome husband in the world.”

Jumin, only now realizing the difference between being happy and being giddy and knowing he’s both, can only close his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ironic for you to say, considering no one with your beauty has ever existed before nor will exist again.”

The way your cheeks flush make him realize that he, too, must be quite tipsy. Surely his stomach does not flip so violently just to see how your eyes glow at his praise.

“I love you.” You swallow, and he watches the movement of your throat closely. “Do you know how much?”

He exhales, not having realized he inhaled before. “M-more than is reasonable, I presume.”

“A lot more than is reasonable,” you whisper before kissing him again. This one is different, he can tell. Something more desperate. More wanting. More likely to make him lose his mind.

How does he know? It’s because you’re not just kissing him, you’re also borderline riding the knee he’s slotting between your legs. With a whine, you tug on his collar, as though you want him closer. Need him closer.

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

“Sit on the couch.” The tone with which you beg makes his already hardening cock twitch. “Please, Jumin.”

He obeys—how could he not obey?—and just the sight of you dropping to your knees to unbuckle his pants has him throwing his head back with a lustful groan. How did he get here? How did he get so lucky?

You kiss the head of his cock, and Jumin is gone.

When you start bobbing your head, eagerly sucking with your eyes closed in concentration, it takes every inch of willpower he has ever had to not cum immediately, so that this can last. With every slow caress of your tongue, he can feel himself getting lost in his own base senses, every coherent thought fading away and leaving only an animalistic need.

“Princess,�� he moans, fingers in your hair. His words escape him in a slurred, barely coherent manner. “I, ahh, won’t last—shit—”

Coming inside your warm, wet mouth is not in the top five moments he remembers when he thinks of his favorite times with you, because he likes to think he’s classier than that, but regardless, he’s never going to forget this.

///

Growing up, the one trait that he was always told to avoid and to find disdainful in others was laziness. There is nothing worse than a person who is not efficient. People who waste time just doing simple tasks are not worth his time, he was told.

But surely, surely, that does not apply to you. (Or maybe it’s a silly lesson in the first place, another one to add the list he has started to garner since he married you.)

It does not apply when you have to get up early for work and you sadly try cuddling with him in the five minutes you have left to remain in bed. Most days Jumin leaves before you, pressing a kiss to the lips of the princess in bed before heading out. Your parted lips in sleep do such a number on him that he has to make sure not to linger too long.

Days where your job demands you wake with him are no less enjoyable, and perhaps even more so as he gets to witness your clinginess. Jumin tugs you to the bathroom, where you close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as both of you brush your teeth. When you finally make it to the kitchen, he seats you on the chair by the counter and amuses himself by watching your sleepy eyes follow him while he makes a quick breakfast.

“Maybe I could eat ‘n your lap?” you ask cutely, poking at your scrambled eggs with a fork.

“My dear,” Jumin answers, intertwining your fingers to kiss the back of your hand, “I would love nothing more, but you will fall asleep again.”

Not even an argument as you nod with a lazy smile, head falling forward on the counter. “I want to fall asleep again. How do you do this every day?”

“It’s what I’ve always done.” He’s finished with his eggs, so he stands, sweeping your hair aside to lean down and press a kiss to your nape. You squeal, squirming away as he catches you and tugs you to him, watching you immediately give up this play fight and snuggle into his chest to catch a bout of standing shut-eye. “Now come, Driver Kim is waiting to drop us both off.”

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

And he feels inordinately pleased with how fast you move after that.

///

The days that he knows you will be at the penthouse when he returns, there’s always an extra breath in his steps, as if the air itself knows he must return home immediately.

Tonight, for example. He has a whole night planned. The two of you would cook the next thing to try on that list of recipes you printed and excitedly taped up in the kitchen, then after dinner he plans to play some soft music and waltz you around the rather spacious living room, and then both of you could go for a swim in the pool, and the night would end with you dozing off in his arms.

A perfect night. The kind he dreams about, the kind that he never can quite believe are real.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t hear any call of his name nor is he tackled in a hug, which only makes his shoulders deflate slightly. Elizabeth the Third softly mrrows at him from where she’s sitting on the couch. Placing a kiss atop her head, he pokes in to check a few rooms, searching for his wife.

You’re nowhere to be found. The only place left to check is the bedroom. His sweetheart usually doesn’t fall asleep so early, though.

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

With a couple of candles lit up around the room, you sit on the bed, nothing on except the set of lingerie he ordered a few weeks ago at your request, black as the night sky (“because it reminds me of you”). A few pillows support you as you lean back, eyes trained on him. There’s a glass of wine in your hands, and another on the table next to you clearly reserved for him.

You take a small sip, and some drops purposefully miss your lips and slowly drip down your neck, down over the swell of your breasts.

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

None of his plans end up coming to fruition that night, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

///

(You’ve pointed out how the most random things turn him on—when you wear his clothes, but specifically his striped shirts, when you let him buy something ludicrously expensive for you, when you do simple things to take care of him, when you wait for him at home after work, cat ears—cat ears, cat ears, cat ears!—and the rare moments where he gets to see you pissed off.

But he’d only responded how the things you were into were equally as random—seeing him disheveled after a hard day’s work or a visit to the gym, the way he answered business calls simply by saying Jumin Han speaking, what do you need, and every time you’re naked on his lap while he’s fully clothed.

Shall I remind you how desperate you get, my dear? he growls into your ear. Your cheeks flush, and Jumin reaches for the ribbon in the drawer, even more impatient than you are.)

///

There are other times where Jumin will arrive home and if you aren’t leaping into his arms, kissing him full on the lips as he spins you around or pins you to the wall depending on the mood, you’re sitting on the couch, typing away on your laptop either for your job or for the RFA.

In those moments, he finds himself easily sliding his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, absolutely reveling in the subconscious way you rub his nape and kiss his hair.

Sometimes you both will exchange stories of your day, expanding on something a phone call simply couldn’t cover or something that perhaps you had wanted to say in person to fully soak in the reaction (you seem to particularly enjoy how he insults the difficult clients you tell him about). Other times, there is a serene silence, only broken by Elizabeth the Third’s purring and the clack of your keyboard keys.

You smell so good, all the time. He wonders if he should be capitalizing on the perfume you use so that no one else can buy it. That way this scent would solely be yours, just like he is. Something about that idea blooms a warmth in his chest.

The best part of the night comes when you finish, closing the laptop and setting it aside before wrapping your arms around him. “I love you,” you say, only for his ears, just like how your lips are only for his skin, just like how your scent is only for his nose, just like how Jumin is only here to be yours entirely.

///

In the past, when he’s fallen ill, he’s either ignored it or simply just taken the necessary amount of time to recover. The last time he was pampered like this was as a child by his nannies. And even their doting paled in comparison to yours (but then, didn’t everything, when it came to you).

Because this. This, is heavenly.

Every single ounce of your affection is solely for him. Your soup that you feed him, your fingers stroking his hair, your voice sweetly singing him to sleep. Your lips on his forehead, whispering, “How are you feeling, Juju?”

Granted, because he’s sick, he can’t fully appreciate it without the feeling that his body is turning against him. But it’s worth it, it’s easily worth it.

So, the day that he wakes up with a low temperature, feeling absolutely fine, he still manages to cough pitifully and throw out the word to Jaehee that he simply has to take another day off.

You have a knowing smile on your face, but when he slips his arms around your waist, with his face buried in your neck, you still hold him just as warmly, and Jumin is so, so, so in love with you. Nothing could possibly stand to be better than this. One hand absentmindedly strokes his hair while you type on your phone with the other hand, communicating with someone from work.

Your phone starts to ring; he only shifts minimally to get closer as you answer it. “Hey, what’s up?”

He can hear the person who called—it’s one of your friends. “Hey! Check your messages, I won that ukulele I told you I would win last time.”

The sound of your laugh is so melodious, he’d do anything to get drunk on it. “Win another one for me, I’ll hang it up in my closet.”

“Yeah, right.” Your friend snorts. “I wish you were able to come. It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”

“I know, but Jumin really doesn’t feel well. I couldn’t just leave him at home alone.” As though your friend can see, you plant a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll go another time, definitely.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Alright, I have to go. Give the husband all my love, I hope he feels better.”

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

With that, you hang up, resuming the scrolling through your phone and the stroking of his hair. Jumin is still, for good reason.

You had meant to go out with your friends today. And due to his not-actually-sick state, you had canceled on them.

Hadn’t he told you to put him second to your own self? But he can’t pin this on you, not when he was the one faking. A terrible feeling begins to rise in his chest, causing him to move away from you and stare at you with a guilty expression.

“Is your neck finally tired of…” You trail off when you look at him, furrowing your brows. “What happened?”

“You were meant to go out today.”

A small frown forms on your face. “Um…we made plans, yeah. But you were sick—“

“I wasn’t,” he confesses, ironically sick to his stomach. “I just wanted to take another day off and spend some time with you.”

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

The frown on your face is replaced by a tiny smile, as you tug gently to bring him back into your arms. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Yes I am.” He pouts, still upset but more calm now that you don’t seem disappointed.

“Honey, the one time I kissed your finger after you got a papercut, you somehow got a papercut on every finger the following week.”

Jumin blushes, but you’re not wrong—he just craves your attention. You simply make everything better.

“More importantly,” and now you pull him into your chest, settling back into the same comfortable position with a kiss on his forehead, “I’m faking just as much as you, because I love it when you do things like this. Why would I complain? I get to spend time with you.”

This is what it feels like, Jumin is certain, to be loved. To be cared for and adored so deeply that it leaves an ache in one’s chest. “The next time,” he murmurs, as your hand finds purchase in his hair once more, “The next time you would like to go out to an amusement park with your friends, please let me know. I can buy it out for the day.” A thoughtful pause. “Or forever.”

Another soft kiss, he’s tempted to keep going, to make more and more outrageous promises just to earn each and every press of your lips to his skin. “My friends will appreciate that. I think the park is already owned by C&R, actually.” You chuckle. “Some fast passes though? I wouldn’t say no.”

Fast passes? He’ll ask you what in the world those are just as soon as he finishes kissing you (something a fake sick person can, thankfully, afford to do).

///

A soft knock on the door.

“Mother?” He makes sure to keep his voice to a polite volume. “I’ve played with all my toys. May I please come out now?”

Silence.

Jumin clears his throat, trying his best not to look behind him, just three steps down. It’s dark down there, and he knows it is not logical to be afraid of the dark, but even the logic does little to quell the growing fear inside him.

“Mother? It…it has been a few hours now.” Fourteen hours, he counted on the tiny clock that ticks a little too loudly in the basement. “May I please be let out? I’m starting to get hungry.”

That’s a lie, but he doesn’t think she’ll know. The truth is he began to get hungry hours ago, and is now close to starving. As if on cue, his stomach growls.

Jumin knocks again, the dread he feels growing with every second. “Please, Mother, I’ll be good. I’ll play with my toys. I’ll be normal. Please let me out.”

None of it makes any sense to him. In all the books he reads, none of the mothers lock their sons up in the basement. But then maybe none of the sons are as strange and abnormal as he is. They didn’t need to be locked up like he did.

Still, even if he deserves this, the loneliness is starting to scare him.

“Please.” Childish tears start to prick at his eyes. “Mother? I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

The only response he gets is the silence, beckoning him to come back to the darkness where he belongs. With a trembling lip, he turns to face it once more.

The doorknob jiggles.

He whips his head back, not daring to believe it. Is this punishment finally over?

The first thing he’s going to do after he eats is call Jihyun, ask him if he’d like to go to the park nearby. Anything to go outside, in the light, with other people.

Except, to his horror, when the door finally opens, it’s not his mother standing at the top, but his stepmother.

“No,” Jumin whispers, stumbling back. He misses one step and trips, hands on the cement floor as he stares, terrified, at the woman. “Please, no. Where’s Mother?”

The woman at the top laughs, a sound that seems to make others happy but only serves to suffocate him further. He’ll choose to stay in the darkness for a hundred more hours before going upstairs to see her. “What’s this? Another woman in your life, Jumin? What a lady killer!”

He shakes his head desperately, as though to tell her that there’s no one, there’s no need for her to get possessive.

It doesn’t work.

“I’m your mother, Jumi.” He hates that nickname. “Shouldn’t you spend more time with me? You know I love our time together. I know you love it too.”

No, no, no, no, no. He’s on his feet in an instant, scrambling back away from her as fast as possible. His back hits the shelf, no longer a child but an adult, and yet still equally as pathetic.

“Your father doesn’t even pay attention to me anymore. You’re all I have, Jumi.” Her eyes turn cold. “But it looks like you’ve found someone else, haven’t you? You’ve replaced me so easily.”

Now her gaze is focused somewhere else. Jumin follows it, peers through the darkness, only to see…

You.

Relief floods his chest all at once. You are his solace, to hold close and worship. You are the only person to ever understand him, to love him without hurting him. You have accepted him no matter how much he’s shown you that he doesn’t deserve any of your care. As long as you are by his side, he can face anything.

“Jumin.” Even his name sounds so much nicer coming from you. Everything and everyone else seems to melt away.

He takes one step towards you.

You speak again, but it doesn’t sound the same this time.

“Jumin.” Now that he can see your face properly, you look…angry. “Don’t come any closer.”

Immediately, he stops, and that sharp fear grips his throat, squeezing.

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

The words spit out of you like a spear, hitting him right in the center.

It can’t be you talking. You don’t say things like that. You always tell him you love him, that you understand him, that you adore him.

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

Tears begin to spill from his eyes. You stand before him, his heart in your hands, and you look at him with such disgust that he hopes the darkness in here opens up and swallows him.

“I’m leaving,” you say firmly, “don’t follow me.”

“Please,” he gasps, shakily reaching a hand out. “Please don’t leave me here, my love.”

But you don’t listen. You step up the stairs, grip the door, and with one last look of vitriol, you slam it shut, damning him to the darkness forever.

Jumin wakes with a gasp that’s really a sob, head jerking up and slamming against yours.

“Ah!” You grip your forehead, wincing in pain from your position above him. “Ow ow ow, that hurt!”

Like he’s in auto mode, Jumin sits up, touching your cheek with a terrified expression. “I’m so sorry, my love, let me call the doctor. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You wince again, rubbing your forehead. “It’ll probably bruise later, but I can deal with it.”

He hurt you. He hurt you.

But you don’t have any of the hate that your dream counterpart did in her eyes. Instead, yours are filled with concern, and you cup his cheeks with such gentleness that he closes his eyes, immediately melting in your hands.

“Were you having a nightmare?” You kiss his forehead. “You were tossing and turning and mumbling in your sleep.”

As much as he wants to bask in your worry for centuries, it doesn’t stop the guilt that threatens to spill. “I apologize for waking you, my love. And for hitting you. I—I was having a nightmare, yes, but I’m alright now.”

“Jumin.”

“If you’d like, I can make some tea for you to help you go back to sleep—“

“Jumin.” Your lips are on his forehead again. “You’re crying, sweetheart.”

So he is. It’s strange he didn’t realize, but there are indeed tears wetting his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet your gaze, looking at him so sincerely and with such care that this time he actually feels the tears pour down.

“Oh,” you breathe, brows meeting in concern. Your thumbs wipe his tears away diligently, and your lips begin to kiss every spot you wipe. Jumin trembles under your touch, hating himself for being so pathetic in front of you and simultaneously considering crying forever so that you stay here forever too. “What is it, honey? Please tell me how I can help.”

He wants to. But all he can manage to do is grip the back of your shirt in his hands, bury his face in your shoulder, and sob.

Not even for a second do you let him go. He doesn’t know how long he stays in your arms, seconds, minutes or hours. He cries, and cries, and cries, until his eyes feel swollen. and all the while your hand strokes his hair, your lips kiss his cheek, and your voice comes out in soothing whispers.

It’s okay.

I’m right here, I’m here for you.

You have me forever.

We’re going to get through this.

I promise I’ll stay with you as long as you want.

Even though he hasn’t told you what his nightmare was about, you still somehow know exactly what to say.

Even when he finally tires himself out, Jumin can’t stand the thought of not being held by you. He’s never felt this safe, this protected, in his entire life. He continues to grip your shirt tightly, breathing in and out, chest heaving. Any second now, he thinks. Any second now, you’re going to pull away and see how awful he is when he clings to you again, like a child.

You do no such thing. Instead, you lean back against the headboard, gently guiding his head to rest on your chest. It’s not the most comfortable position, but he shifts so that he’s sitting curled into you and pulls you forward gently to place a pillow behind your back. This way, he can hear your heartbeat.

And it’s that steady rhythm that makes his eyes start to droop.

But if he falls asleep again, he risks having another nightmare.

“Sleep,” you murmur, kissing his temple. Jumin’s eyes close on instinct. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise knocks him right out.

///

When he wakes, you’ve kept your promise, and you’re in the same unfortunate position, head lulled to the side as you snooze.

An indescribable feeling settles upon him. It’s not just one feeling, in fact, but multiple. Guilt, because he forced you to sleep like this throughout the night. Gratitude, because he’s pretty sure he’s in the arms of an angel sent from above. And most importantly, he feels white hot love, because he has clearly married the only person in this world worth a damn.

And as much as he wants to stay like this, he knows that will surely not bode well for the chiropractor appointment he plans to schedule for you. So Jumin slips out of your embrace gently, taking good care to lay your head down on the pillow. With you picturesque in front of him, he places a kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Ju,” you mumble in your sleep. Your hand seems to reach for something, stopping when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

An angel, indeed.

Jumin gets up fully, taking the time to brush his teeth and freshen up before going into the kitchen to whip something up for breakfast. He wasn’t expected at the office until after lunch, so he had time to really make something nice. Chocolate chip pancakes, instead of his usual strawberry.

As he makes the batter, he thinks. Last night was…an anomaly. There should be no reason for him to dream of people that no longer matter anymore. His present is the most important, and his present is, thanks to you, leagues and leagues ahead of his past anyway. He wants to forget it all, forget his mother and stepmother and even Sarah Choi, who, while she hadn’t made an appearance last night, had been in his nightmares more than once, in a bleak alternate reality where he actually married her.

But he knows who he really married. It’s the person whose arms are sneaking around his waist right now. You.

“Morning.” Your voice is exceedingly pleasant, especially when it’s cooed in his ear. “You’re going in late, right?”

“Yes.” He places a kiss on the back of your hand, pressing his lips to each knuckle. “And you, my princess?”

“All from home today, my prince.”

Inwardly, he feels a quick twinge of irritation. “I wish I could spend the whole day with you. I should call out.”

“I’m never going to dissuade you of that.” You kiss him right on the nape of his neck; Jumin shudders. “But it’s up to you.”

“I’ll end up burning these pancakes if you keep distracting me.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Your laugh is so pretty, he thinks, and he didn’t think he could describe laughter as pretty before you. “Um, before I get too off topic…don’t you think we should talk, Jumin?”

He knew you weren’t going to simply forget the fact that he had cried himself back to sleep last night. Luckily, before you’d woken, he’d already prepared for such a scenario.

“I apologize for disrupting your sleep. I had a disturbing dream, but it will not happen again.”

For a second, he thinks it’s enough to stop you from asking any further questions, up until he feels your arms slide out from under him. The next thing he knows, you’re turning off the stove before he can start on the next batch of pancakes.

Then, you’re gently turning him so he’s facing you, looking at you right in the eye. Jumin has seen that look before. It’s way too determined for even his stubborn nature, and it always comes out when you’re about to do whatever you want (a rare delight, given your selfless nature, but one he enjoys every time).

Your hands loop around his neck, and you kiss his cheek. Jumin closes his eyes as you speak softly. “Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you, love?”

It’s amazing that you think anything could bother him when you’re this close, calling him that.

“Just a nightmare,” he says softly, but you clearly don’t buy it.

“I have nightmares too, it’s very rare that one of them affects me that much after I wake up.”

“A bad nightmare.”

The other version of you flashes in his head again. You’re fucked up, Jumin. But she’s not you, and even though he thinks for a terrible second that you’re going to shove him away, you pull him in for a hug instead, warm and welcoming and cozy. The scent of your nameless-brand shampoo fills his senses—it makes him desperately want to go back to bed.

“Please,” you breathe on his neck. “That’s what you were saying last night. Please, Mother. Please, no. Please, don’t leave me.”

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

“Please talk to me, Jumin,” you plead. “Please.”

Somehow, he has to keep from crying this time. How pathetic can one man be? But he also has to acquiesce to your request, because you’re you, and he cannot deny you no matter how hard he tries. If you want him bare, you shall have him bare. If you want him destroyed, he will destroy himself in an instant.

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

Not wanting the kitchen, where you and him cook together and laugh together (and a couple other things too), to become associated with these tainted memories, he guides you to the couch, hands holding yours. You promptly get into your favorite position, on his lap with your knees on each side. With a sigh, he rests his head on your shoulder, the fabric of your shirt seemingly smoothing out the creases in his forehead.

Your lips on his skin and your whispered words of encouragement give him a courage he wasn’t aware he possessed. Jumin talks.

“You have not met my mother yet. There is…good reason for that. A week before our wedding, she sent me the profile of a woman she wanted me to marry. I refused, of course. But that is the first time she has reached out to me in years.” He clears his throat. “She and I did not have a pleasant relationship. I think some part of me was very disappointing to her, because instead of giving her the true challenge of parenthood I molded to exactly what she wanted me to be. She recognized that I was…abnormal.”

In the span of a few seconds, your eyes have hardened more than he’s ever seen them harden before. This isn’t determined. This isn’t even pissed. This is raw anger.

“Abnormal?” There’s a bite to your words. “Is that her way of saying she was blessed with an intelligent, kind child?”

“You are kind,” Jumin whispers, cupping your chin to press a short kiss to your lips. “As a child, I was perhaps more robotic than I am now. I took to the world of business rather quickly.”

“You were brilliant, Jumin. Were and still are.”

If he kisses you after your every reassurance, the two of you will never leave this couch (not that he necessarily minds that idea). The more disturbing risk is that he will break down in front of you, if he starts elaborating, not to mention when he begins to talk about his stepmother as well.

But that’s a risk that Jumin can now accept. He understands now, that he hasn’t known love before you, and that there will be a great many times he will feel afraid, but he also knows that there is no one in the world he trusts more.

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

The face you make when you orgasm—eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream, head thrown back—is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life. He considers spending eternity with his head between your legs, recklessly licking you to completion again and again.

The sounds you make—God. They have him rolling his hips against the sheets, so close to finishing just from your taste. It’s an obsession now, one that’s been growing ever since you two were married. A stressful day or a bad meeting or even projects being set back for whatever reason, Jumin can get all that frustration out as long as you allow him to spread your legs and devour you. As long as you squeal on his tongue, make a mess of his face, cum on his lips once or twice or more. He only stops when you beg him to.

He could taste you forever.

But he reconsiders this commitment after he experiences the feeling of you coming on his cock once more.

A choked cry escapes him when he feels your walls clench around him. For a second, he can’t move, too lost in the way your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin. It’s the most pleasurable pain he’s ever had the fortune of experiencing.

“Ju-min,” you whine, legs clasping around his waist as he continues to thrust lazily, seeking his own release, “more, please.”

It really is always nice to know that he’s not the only one affected, enthralled and addicted to this madness.

///

Returning home to silence is still better than returning home to the sound of soft crying.

Jumin is on high alert in an instant, not bothering to take his suit or even his shoes off. You’re curled up on the couch, wiping your cheeks aggressively when you catch sight of him.

“J-Jumin, I didn’t hear you come in. Um…” You swallow, dried tears still obvious on your face. “I haven’t made anything, let me call the chef.”

He crosses the rug over to you almost blindly. There’s nothing else in his head, only you—your tears—you’re crying—you’re crying and he wasn’t here. His hands cup your face, wiping another fresh tear that rolls down your cheek as you look up at him, shaking.

“Who did it?” There’s a white-hot anger pulsing inside of him. He never sees you cry. “Tell me who I need to kill.”

A soft gasp escapes you, and you shake your head frantically as he sinks to his knees, taking your hands in his own and pressing reverent kisses to your knuckles. “N-no one did anything—I promise I’m fine, h-honey, please get up—“

Your laptop is set to the side, but the only thing on it is an email draft, giving him no clues at all. The last thing he desires is for you to have to recount that which distresses you, but he wants, needs, to ensure that you never get upset again.

“My love,” he swears, pressing his palms to yours, “please, tell me what happened. Was it something I did? One of the employees in the building?”

You whisper frantically, “No,” but even as you do another fresh wave of tears drip down your face.

Jumin wants to scream, wants to hurt someone, whoever is responsible, but he’s helpless, and so he lets intuition guide him, rising up until he’s next to you on the couch, and he’s pulling you in.

With a firm grip on his suit, you bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. In this moment, he recalls the predicament from that night, when the roles were reversed. How you’d simply let him cry, and held him all the while. Is he capable of…can he possibly bring you the same peace you bring him? Could you allow him to comfort you in the same way?

No matter what, he’s going to try. Anything for you.

Placing a kiss to your hair, he tightens his arms around you and murmurs sweet nothings, making sure you hear all of them. Everything from you’re the strongest person i know to i’m here for you, my love, i’ll be with you till the end of time.

“It’s just so much,” you finally hiccup, sniffing, “I’m busy all the time, they dump every project on me, I never get a chance to just take some time for myself and breathe! I’m always on some call, writing some email, visiting some area, I just want it all to stop. And you’re busier than me, and you do it so effortlessly, I can’t imagine how pathetic I must look compared to you.”

“You’re worth a hundred of me.” His voice is fierce, and he meets your eyes with his entire honest conviction. “Nothing about you is pathetic. You…you’re hardworking, you’re talented, you’re brave, and you’re the kindest person I know. I do not deserve you. I’ve never deserved you.”

“Please don’t say that,” you whimper, face still wet. He squeezes you tighter.

“I apologize. This isn’t about me. You need a break, sweetheart. Please, just request a week or at least a day off.”

“Jumin, I can’t—”

“I’ll request off too. Whenever you get a break, I’ll schedule one at the same time, and then I’ll take you wherever you desire, or we can simply spend it in the penthouse, and lay in bed all day. Or I could buy your company,” he half threatens, half jokes.

You let out a weak laugh, sinking into him, but he feels the tension in your shoulders release just slightly. Placing a kiss at the top of your head, he quickly texts for the chef to come by within the next hour, then tosses his phone aside to hold you better, which is when he catches sight of your own phone. On the screen is an image of the chatroom—a screenshot, he realizes, since his own messages are in it and he hasn’t been on the messenger today.

Your gaze follows his, and a slight smile finally forms on your face. “Messages from when we first met. Ah, the day I came to your apartment, I think.”

Oh, no. To put it lightly, those days were not a good time for him (although he’d never say such a thing, because he finds it cruel to say that some of the hardest days of his life included the one where he met the most wonderful woman in the world). Heaven knows what foolish things he’d said, he’s tried to block out most of the times that didn’t include the sight of you in front of him.

“They calm me down,” you admit softly, “the screenshots I have. I’m glad I took them, I have almost a hundred pictures that remind me of all the butterflies I would get when I talked to you. Knowing you’re my husband is the biggest calm of the storm.” Your cheeks are still stained with tears, but in your eyes is a newfound admiration as you and him look at each other, as though you have all the time in the world.

Jumin’s heart seizes.

“I’ll request a week off.” You reach up, a thumb on his cheek. “Thank you, Jumin.”

Surely, he thinks, being needed by you is the best experience of all.

///

“Thank you.” Your voice breaks the silence, muffled on his skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your husband kisses you, impatient as always, and you adore it.

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

#jumin x reader #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme x reader #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han smut #valkyrie stories

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cupid-styles · 7 months

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silk and rope 3

the final part of ddlg harry and little/submissive y/n!!!!

in which harry is a dummy, y/n gets a little too drunk, and thanksgiving is finally good for something.

word count: 8k

content warnings: daddy dom and little/submissive relationship, alcohol, a little bit of angst, SMUT!!! (anal play, squirting, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sub drop, public play if you squint, dumbification, tiny bit of pet play.. if I missed something pls lmk lol). as stated in the first two parts, I tried to make this as accurate as possible but there are likely some things that aren't correct!! im just a girl and im sorry if something isn't portrayed right!!!!!!

thank you for reading and loving these two, while this is the last formal part of their story I will definitely be writing check-ins and blurbs for them in the future!!! enjoy :)

masterlist | talk to me

part one | part two

. . .

It doesn't take Y/N very long to realize Harry's acting weird.

Well, maybe not weird, but different. He's acting differently than he has been for the past two months, and it's giving her a bit of whiplash. She notices that it started the day after she slipped when he dropped her off at home, when he latched a collar around her neck.

Her memory of that day is a little bit hazy; the events are more so glued together in blurry snapshots of pleasure and lust, but she does know that she had fallen into her little space while he was gone. He'd punished her for the whole butt plug incident, fucked her into oblivion, and then soaked in the tub with her before falling asleep next to her.

And really, it wasn't that different from their usual scenes. The dynamic was the same, as far as Y/N can remember, it may have just been a little bit more intense.

So why is Harry acting like this?

Instead of stopping by nearly every day to make sure she's eaten and rested, he'll just text her. If she hasn't eaten lunch or dinner yet, he'll order her food to her house instead of bringing her a homemade meal or stopping somewhere on the way. When he does come over, it seems like he's always in a hurry to leave — yesterday, he picked her up from a closing shift at the bakery and barely spoke to her in the car. He came inside, quickly cooked her a dinner, and left before she'd even finished eating, mumbling out some excuse about having to feed his sister's cat.

Worst of all, they haven't slept together in a week.

It's all overwhelming for Y/N, but this time, it's in the worst way possible. She feels incredibly down as the days go on, and she spirals and wonders what she did wrong to make him act this way. She can feel the breakup coming from a mile away, but she assumes that because it's Harry, he'll bake her a cake and buy her a kitten just because he doesn't want to be too mean about it.

She hates to admit it, but she's grown attached to Harry. And she really, really doesn't want to let him go.

It's what led her to asking Naomi to grab lunch on her day off. Naomi hasn't reached out too much lately so it's been awhile since they'd seen one another, but she's known Harry far longer than she has.

(And yeah, Y/N feels kind of shitty about making plans with Naomi only to ask about Harry, but she has a nagging feeling that she's only kept her around because she feels bad she doesn't have friends outside of them.)

"I'm sorry, you and Harry are what?"

(She supposes she should have expected this type of response.)

"We're sleeping together," Y/N answers in a pathetic attempt to sound casual, keeping her eyes glued to the turkey sandwich on her plate, "But he's been acting kind of off lately, and I wasn't sure if you guys knew something I didn't."

"Well no one knew that," Naomi mutters, stabbing her fork into her salad and stuffing some lettuce into her mouth. "But to address your concerns, no, I don't know anything. Harry's notoriously private about his love life."

She clears her throat and nods. "I think he's gonna end things soon."

"Hmm, yeah," Naomi hums through a mouthful of food, "I don't think he does the whole friends with benefits thing. Lea tried once and he rejected her, it was kind of a mess. She couldn't stand to be in a room with him for like, two months."

"We're not sleeping with other people," Y/N quickly adds. "It's sort of an exclusive arrangement."

Still, Naomi shrugs her shoulders, and it doesn't soothe any of Y/N's worries.

"He may have told you that, but I honestly doubt it, babe. I'm sorry he broke your heart. He can be kind of an asshole in that way."

If anything, Y/N feels even worse now. The gears in her brain are turning too fast and she's starting to feel nauseous, putting the puzzle pieces together and envisioning what her life will be like without Harry after she's gotten so used to him taking care of her.

"Anyway, Bria is having a party this weekend," Naomi says, breaking her out of his spiraling thoughts, "You should come. It'll get your mind off things and you can find someone new to fuck."

She winces at her crude terminology, not because she's offended by it but because she thinks what she and Harry are doing is more than just fucking.

Aren't they?

Forcing down a sip of her Diet Coke, Y/N nods. "Yeah, I'll be there."

. . .

From: H

Can I come over tonight?

Y/N bites her lip as she reads Harry's text for the fourth time. Since getting home from lunch with Naomi, she's been stewing in a series of emotions: First, sadness, followed by frustration and anger, then sadness again, then acceptance. She's managed to occupy herself with some re-runs of Jeopardy, even if it reminds her of him.

She doesn't know what the right thing to do is. What if he wants to come over because he's ready to end things? She supposes she's just putting off the inevitable, but she's been broken up with enough times and she knows how much more painful this one will be. She's not prepared for that, even if she wants to be.

Sighing, she finally makes a decision, tapping her thumbs quickly against the screen.

Y/N: hey sorry i can't do tonight. think im coming down w something, i don't feel that well

H: Do you need anything? I can bring soup and medicine, whatever you need.

Y/N: no im ok, thank you tho

H: Let me know if you think of anything.

H: Maybe later this week if you're feeling better?

Y/N: yea maybe

Tears are already clouding her vision as she locks her phone and tosses it across her couch. Desperately, she wonders why the guy she's fallen for just can't like her back.

. . .

Harry knows he's fucking up.

He wants to smack himself across the face and tell himself to pull it together, but he can't. Every single cell and bone in his body is begging him to go over to Y/N's house and make it all better, and instead, he just sits on the couch, replaying those words over in his brain. Her swollen parted lips and eyes fluttered closed, the way it sounded so effortless falling from her mouth. I love you.

He wanted to say it back. But that wasn't part of the arrangement.

She wanted someone to dominate her, to take care of her. Who would be if he took advantage of something she said after nearly two hours of play, when she'd been in her little space all day? It wasn't something he felt morally right about, but he knows he wasn't being any better. He couldn't hold himself to high standards when he was pushing her away.

It's why he's so down and out on Saturday night. Normally, he'd be snuggled up with Y/N, watching some movie or TV show, usually after or before an intense scene. Sometimes it served as a precursor to foreplay with the way he'd stroke over her thighs and play with her hair, watching as she became increasingly restless. Other times, it's what they did to unwind, a form of aftercare for both parties.

But tonight, he's not doing that. He's at home alone, confused, because Bria just texted him that she's having a party tonight and everyone's there — including Y/N.

He doesn't like that she singles her out like that. He knows that some of the girls in the group don't particularly like her because she's quiet and shy and rather reserved about her personal life. (He understands why she's that way now.) He doesn't even think Naomi is a good friend to her, but he would never go out of his way to tell her that — ultimately, she's capable of making her own decisions. However, she'd sent him some excuse about not being able to hang out a few days ago, claiming that she was sick and yet, tonight she was at a party?

Harry couldn't live with that.

So he fires off a text to Bria, telling her that he'll be there soon, dressing quickly and throwing himself together. When he's driving over to Bria's place, he makes a mental promise to himself, pledging that as long as Y/N doesn't hate him, he won't return home without her.

. . .

Y/N is drunk, and she hates being drunk.

The last time she consumed a fraction of this amount of alcohol was the night she spilled her guts to Harry. Tonight, she's downed every shot that's been passed her way. She's not sure what she's looking to achieve — she doesn't want to go home with anyway and the only person she really wants to be with is Harry — and it makes her sad. So, so helplessly sad.

Despite being deep underwater, Y/N is cognizant enough to know that no one at this party really cares for her wellbeing. They were eager to get her drunk, but once she started swaying on her feet with hazy eyes, they stopped caring. Games of beer pong and flip cup were ongoing as she sat in the kitchen, propped up on the counter with her head against the cabinets.

She feels so stupid, it makes her want to cry.

. . .

Harry attempts to play it cool when he arrives at Bria's house.

Everyone welcomes him, excited that he made it, but they have no idea that his presence has nothing to do with wanting to party. He's here for the girl who begs him to snap a collar around her neck and push a plug into her ass. The girl he happens to be very in love with.

Naomi bats her eyelashes at him and hands him a glass of wine; an attempt to schmooze him when she tells him she picked out this bottle just for him. He smiles politely.

"Have you seen Y/N? Bria mentioned she was here."

Naomi's eyebrows raise, a defensive look crossing onto her face. "Why are you looking for her?"

"We just need to talk about something," he replies dismissively, uninterested in revealing any details to her, "So, is she here? Or did she leave already?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "She got pretty fucked up when she got here. She's kind of a mess, y'know? I don't even know if she's here or not."

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, concern and worry bubbling in his stomach, "She doesn't like to drink."

"Well, she sure liked all the shots everyone was giving her."

He closes his hands into tight fists, stunned at how careless these people could be. He couldn't believe he considered them friends at a certain point.

"Where did you see her last?" he eventually questions, pushing past the anger growing in his chest.

Naomi thinks for a moment. "I think Ren may have passed her in the kitchen. Not sure, though."

She's apparently finished with this conversation, clearly annoyed that she didn't get what she wants (Harry knows she's been trying to recreate that one night they made out years ago, but he's never been especially interested). He huffs and pushes past everyone else standing around in the living room, ignoring anyone who tries to start a conversation. When he walks into the kitchen, his eyes immediately find her defeated posture, her shoulders slumped over with eyes half-shut.

"Y/N," he says, rushing over to her. He's not sure if she's even conscious, so he gently pats at her cheek. "Baby, are you alright?"

Her eyes flutter open, a look of confusion immediately taking over. "Harry?"

"Are you okay, Y/N? What happened?"

"Nothing," she mumbles through red-stained lips, "Why're you here?"

She's slurring her words and he swallows harshly, taking in her rough composure. She looks so tired and it breaks his heart to think that he could have caused this.

"Heard you were here and I wanted to make sure you were okay." he murmurs out, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, "Are you having a fun time?"

He already knows the answer when she shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed. "No. Hate being drunk."

"I know, baby," Harry coos, "Would you be okay with me taking you home? Get you all cozy in your bed?"

If she's angry with him, her level of drunkenness has made her forget about those feelings because she nods, making grabby hands at him. He chuckles and helps her down from the countertop, immediately wrapping a supportive arm around her waist.

"My car's just parked outside. Do you think you can make it there?"

"Mhm."

With a gentle smile on his lips, he tugs her out of the kitchen and guides her to the front door. He can feel eyes on them and he assumes Naomi is likely leading the pack, but he doesn't care. Frankly, he's fine if this is the last time he sees most of these people — he doesn't think he wants to continue friendships with anyone who'd want to hurt Y/N.

She's quiet as he helps her into the car, buckling her seatbelt for her and closing the passenger side door once she's safe. He's quick to do the same for himself, churning the ignition and flicking the heat on to shield her from the chilly autumn air.

"Do you feel sick at all?" Harry asks as he pulls out of his parking spot. She shakes her head. "Okay, lemme know if that changes, lovebug."

They don't exchange any more words on the way to Y/N's place. Once he's parked, he turns to look over, only to find her slumped in her seat with closed eyes, steady puffs of air coming from her nose. His heart twitches — he wishes they were coming home from a date or something romantic, but he's reminded quite quickly of her drunken state.

He leaves her in the car for a moment to use his spare key to unlock her front door. When he returns, he gently scoops her body up and out of the car. Her eyes flicker open and he hushes her, kicking the door closed.

"Can walk," she mutters out, and he nods, letting her down once they're safely in her home.

"I didn't wanna wake you up, that's all."

Y/N shrugs and kicks her shoes off, though she loses her balance and sways, Harry quickly coming to her side to steady her by the elbow.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

He looks down at the doe-eyed girl in front of him, sniffling as the words float from her lips. His stomach flutters with anxiety as he watches her eyes get watery, immediately using his thumb to wipe away the moisture from spilling over.

"Why would you ask that?" he murmurs, placing a hand to her hip.

"You don't like me," Y/N answers matter-of-factly. "And you've been avoiding me."

He sighs. He knows this isn't the right time to talk things through, especially because she's only saying these things given her swimming mindset. He hates that her mind even floated to such places, but if he's being honest, he isn't surprised — he thinks he would assume similarly if their roles were swapped.

"Can we talk about this in the morning?" Harry asks softly.

She shrugs her shoulders, letting her gaze fall to her feet. "You can just do it now. I don't wanna remember anything you have to say if that's the case."

"Y/N, stop it," he says with a shake of his head, attempting to guide her up the stairs. He's slightly impressed that despite her wobbly legs, she stays put. "I'm not ending things."

"Why wouldn't you?" she fires back, looking back up at him with a defiant look in her eyes, "You promised me you'd take care of me and— and for the past week or so, you've done anything but. You've just stressed me out and made me feel bad."

Harry swallows as guilt begins to crawl its way back up his spine. He knows she's right. She has every right to be upset.

"I know," he mumbles, nodding his head, "I know. I haven't been a good dominant. I'm sorry."

"That's a shit excuse. I've heard that so many times before from guys who didn't treat me right from the start. You're different, Harry."

"Y/N..." he's getting frustrated now, disgruntled by how stubborn she apparently gets when she's drunk, "You're right about everything, but this isn't the time to talk this through. I want to do it when you're sober."

She rolls her eyes and if things were normal, Harry knows he would've grabbed her by the hips and leaned her over the steps to spank her. Instead, he lets out a breath and nudges her in the direction of her bedroom.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Y/N's protests cease after that and Harry's secretly grateful for it. She's sobered up enough to take her makeup off and change into her pajamas as he fetches her a glass of water and some Advil to take. He places them on her nightstand as she crawls into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

"Your apartment's still freezing," he murmurs, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "I'll call a repair guy tomorrow."

"Are you staying then?" she asks softly, letting her eyes close the second she smushes her cheek into the pillow.

"I will if you'd like me to."

"Okay," she mumbles, "I hope you don't break up with me tomorrow."

He lets out what feels like the thousandth sigh that evening. "Stop saying that. I'm not going to."

Y/N simply shrugs.

. . .

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with a throbbing headache. Before she even opens her eyes, she can feel embarrassment warming every cell of her body, but she can't place a finger on why. She knows something happened last night but things get a little... blurry at a certain point; her last solid memory taking shots with Naomi and Lea. From there, she has a small inkling of what happened, mainly just recalling her sitting in the kitchen by herself when she started feeling woozy and tired.

When she finally blinks her mascara-crusted eyes open (she thought she took her makeup off last night, but maybe she did a shit job of it), she nearly jumps when she realizes there's someone laying next to her.

That someone being Harry.

He has his reading glasses on and he's scrolling on his phone. Through squinted eyes, she reads the words heat repair guy best ratings in his Google search. When he realizes that she's awake, he locks his phone and clears his throat.

"Hey," he says, licking his lips, "How are you feeling?"

"Confused," she croaks out, lifting her head slightly to look up at him, only to be met with a pounding ache in her temples.

"Here, be careful," he mumbles, leaning over to his side to grab something from the nightstand. He hands here two pieces of toast and two Advil. "You should eat this before you take anything. You were pretty wasted last night, I figured your hangover would be rough."

She hums in appreciation and takes a bite of the toast, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "What are you doing here?"

He's not surprised that the details are hazy for her, so he flips onto his side to face her. "Bria told me about the party and mentioned you were there. I wanted to see you so I went, but you were, um, drunk and... by yourself. I took you home, that's all."

"Hm," Y/N nods, "Yeah, I remember getting drunk with everyone. I don't remember you being there except for us arguing here."

"We didn't really argue. You were just being... stubborn."

"About what?"

Harry sighs. "You wanted to talk about the state of our relationship and were convinced I was going to break up with you."

A beat. And then, "Oh."

"That was never my plan, by the way," he replies, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, "I was never going to end things."

She shrugs her shoulders and places her empty plate on the floor, tossing back the Advil.

"I know I haven't been the best to you lately. I've been having a hard time trying to figure out how to approach things."

"Approach what?" she bites, laying back down. "I— all I know is that one day things were fine, and the next they weren't. You weren't being the same and I didn't know what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong," he shakes his head, "Just... you said something. When you were in your little space."

"I say a lot of things when I'm in my little space."

"Yeah, but this was... like, different."

"How, different?"

"More serious, I guess."

"Harry," she huffs, fisting the comforter in her hands, "I can't guess something I said when I wasn't being myself."

"You told you love me."

Y/N's head whips to the side and she immediately winces, shutting her eyes. He cringes and reaches out to touch her temples, gently applying a bit of pressure and rubbing them. It's silent for a moment as he massages her head.

"I'm sorry," she eventually mumbles, "You were probably freaked out. I'm sure I didn't mean to say it."

"Don't be sorry. I would never hold your emotions against you."

Still, she wants to hide her face in the blankets. She's embarrassed, that much is obvious. She doesn't even know if she actually loves Harry; a lot things come out when she's in her little space, some of which she means and some of which she doesn't. She supposes it's fair that he seems so freaked over it.

"I wish you told me sooner. I could've... explained myself. Maybe."

"Explained yourself?"

Y/N shrugs and lays back against the pillows. Harry follows her lead, tilting his neck so he can look at her.

"I can't say for certain that I love you or not, I've never been in love," she explains quietly, feeling her cheeks warm at the unexpected vulnerability spilling out of her, "Don't you think you could say things when you're dominating me that you don't necessarily mean? You degrade me sometimes and I know those things aren't true."

Harry thinks for a moment, pinching his lip between his fingers. "I guess, yeah."

"I would tell if you if I knew for sure, Harry. But I don't."

He nods and rolls onto his back. He doesn't know why but he feels... sad? Let down, maybe? He'd been under the impression that she loved him and, well... maybe he was okay with that.

"I'm sorry." she repeats softly. He shakes his head and reaches out for her hand, grasping it gently and giving it a small squeeze.

"Don't be. It was stupid. I overreacted."

"Thank you for rescuing me last night," Y/N murmurs, squeezing his hand back.

He pushes down the feelings of disappointment and forces a small smile on his lips.

"Anytime."

. . .

Harry tries to go back to normal after that.

He stops being so avoidant, which makes a big difference. He and Y/N are back to their near-daily hangouts, and it's easy to fall back into the routine they established before any of this happened. They're even having sex again, with Y/N readily falling into her little space every time he ties her to the bed, overstimulates her until she's crying, and fucks her open with his cock until he comes deep inside her. They never use condoms anymore, either, and the added layer of intimacy only contributes to what Harry realize shortly after that morning in Y/N's bed: he's in love with her.

He guesses he's known it for awhile, he just didn't want to admit it to himself. But when she explained why she said it, he felt so bummed that it only made sense. He'd wanted her to love him.

But Y/N is Y/N, shy and oblivious and rarely the first to bring up her feelings, so he leaves it at that. He can't think of a worse fate than them actually ending things for good this time, so he keeps his emotions to himself, locked up tight for no one to ever know.

This is a good method, he decides.

Until they're in Y/N's favorite bookshop, perusing through the section titled "BookTok" (he doesn't know what that means, but she clearly does since she has a stack of four books in her hand) and he sees it.

The familiar moony-eyed gaze, batted eyelashes, spit swollen lips. Tugging at his hand, latching onto his arm every second she can, when the word falls from her lips.

"Daddy."

He looks down with wide eyes. She never calls him that when they're in public, but now she's blinking owlishly, nibbling on the fingernails of the hand that isn't attached to Harry's arm.

"Are you alright, baby?" he asks quietly, brushing a piece of her hair out of her eyes.

"Mhm," she nods, grinning up at him, "Feeling little. 's that okay?"

He smiles gently, loving this side of her, but concerned that it's happening when they're out and about. He's never experienced a sudden sub drop before, but he knows that he doesn't want to make her feel unwanted, as if she's doing anything wrong.

"Of course, bunny," he murmurs. "Can daddy take you home, then?"

"Yes, please. Startin' to ache."

With raised eyebrows, he nods quickly, lightly tugging her head in the direction of the register. He buys her books for her, grateful that she's decided to occupy herself with the sticker display before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her to his car. He buckles her in to make sure she's safe, her books piled neatly in her lap, and gets in on the other side.

She's quiet as she flips through one of her new novels while Harry periodically glances over at her to make sure she's doing alright. It's only when she starts squirming in her seat that he puts a hand over her thigh, squeezing gently.

"We'll be home soon, baby. Just hang in there for me."

"Hurts," she pouts, and Harry's heart jumps, "Please— can I— will you?"

He swallows, quickly looking over as she wiggles around. In any other situation, he'd say no — they have a pretty firm no-touching-herself rule when he's not there, but he's never seen her drop into her little space so suddenly before. Hesitantly, he nods, stopped at a red light as he reaches up to pluck at the waistband of her leggings.

"Does my baby just need to cum?" he asks as she quickly shimmies the material down.

"Need you to touch me." she whines, hooking her thumbs under her panties and sliding them to the middle of her thighs.

"Okay, okay," he murmurs. The light turns green and he presses on the gas, moving his hand up to hover over her core. Even with the distance between them, he can see how much she's glistening. "Did you make a mess for daddy? Just walking around, having a nice day, and your little pussy got all wet for me?"

"Yes," she gasps, spreading her pussy lips with his fingers.

He begins to thumb at her clit, pressing small circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. She's already whimpering in her seat, eyes falling closed as she wraps her own hand around his wrist, pulling him closer.

"F-feels so good," Y/N mewls, grinding her hips down in time with his hand.

"Such a good girl for daddy," he tries to ignore the straining in his pants as her arousal readily coats his fingers just from a few swirls around her clit. "Cum for me whenever you're ready, bunny. Show me how good you are."

Thankfully, he's turning onto his street as the knot in her core unravels, breathy whimpers and broken calls of his honorific a clear indicator that she's reached her peak. He groans as he feels her pussy contracting, back arched against the leather of the seat.

"Fuck," he mutters, pulling into the driveway, "You're so fucking beautiful."

She barely has a second to breathe before he throws the car in park and unbuckles her seatbelt. He grabs her face between his hands and smushes their lips together, a surprised squeak sounding from her mouth.

"D-daddy," she gasps, her lips curling into a smile as he squeezes her hip.

"My good girl, yeah?" he grins, breaking apart to press their foreheads to one another. "You make daddy so happy."

Y/N giggles. She's still in her floaty headspace but with one orgasm in, it's less desperate and more bubbly. A reminder of how much she adores Harry, even with the rose-tinted glasses of her little space.

"Need more," Y/N breathes, leaning back in to peck his lips, "Please? Want your cock, want you to— to cum deep inside me."

"I know, bunny." he coos, ignoring the way his length twitches in his pants at her needy tone. He reaches up to press a kiss to her forehead. "C'mon, let's go inside. Wanna take you properly."

As soon as she nods, Harry clamors out of the car and winds around to the other side to open the door for her. With her pile of books in her hand and her flushed cheeks, evident of a recent orgasm, he intertwines their fingers together and helps her to the front door, quickly unlocking it.

Harry's no psychiatrist or expert on the manner, but one of the most interesting parts of Y/N being in her little space is that she doesn't even necessarily realize what she's doing. They've spoken about it before and she's revealed that there have times where she's been so deep under, she doesn't have all of her memories. It's a scary thought, but in a stroke of complete and utter honesty, she's explained to him that she trusts him implicitly — to take care of her when her brain is fuzzy, to never take advantage of her or push her beyond her limits.

Truthfully, Harry should've known then that he was in love with her.

And when she waltzes into his apartment, placing her books on the entryway table like she lives here, he's immediately wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, until her back is pressed up against his chest. She giggles out his honorific and it makes him smile into her hair — god, he loves her so much it might make him sick — before he mumbles out instructions to go upstairs to get undressed for him.

As always, she does as she's asked, ever keen on pleasing him. He gives her a moment as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep breath and running his hand over his face. He's never felt so gone over a girl before, and he's managed to keep it together with Y/N this far — but seeing the way she slipped today and knowing it's just another way of showcasing how deeply she trusts their relationship... it's almost too much.

When he does go upstairs, he's instantly reminded of how uncomfortably hard he is. His eyes wander over her naked body, sprawled out across his bed, her feet flat on the bedding with her legs arched at the knee. She's being good — there have been times where he's found her already toying with her clit or sinking the tip of her finger in, but her hands are at her sides today.

"Good girl," Harry murmurs out as he undoes his belt, the leather falling to the floor. "Tell daddy what you want."

She hums, likely unused to getting a say in the foreplay of their scenes. He realizes that she may not know how to answer, so he attempts to help her along.

"Do you wanna be plugged in your bum? Tied up? Edged?" he asks, clad only in his briefs as he places a knee on the bed and wraps a hand around her ankle. "Tell me why daddy's girl needs."

"Want a plug, please," she says softly, allowing him to stretch her legs out, "Just... just wanna be filled."

"Filled, hm?" he teases lightly, reaching under the bed to rifle through the small box of sex toys. She had a bit of a collection of plugs at home, so she'd brought over a few to keep at his place a month or so back (that had been an interesting day, when he thought she had books or extra clothes in her tote bag only to be met with toys). He pulls out the smallest one since, if he's being honest, the need to be inside her is overwhelming, and he doesn't know how long he can play with her ass before he loses his mind.

"Flip onto your tummy, angel girl." he instructs as he pulls his tee and sweatshirt off. She silently does as she's told, pressing her cheek into one of Harry's pillows. She's instantly flooded with scents of his shampoo and cologne, woody and musky and intensely comforting, and it makes her squeeze her thighs together.

Everything about him makes her warm and gooey inside, as if she's coming to the one place — or person — that always feels like home, no matter how awful of a day she's had. Akin to struggling through a snowstorm, the chill pinging through her body and down to her bones; when she's with Harry, it's like being served her favorite bowl of warm soup and being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket fresh out of the dryer.

Harry is her home.

She's floating through this revelation when he pushes her ass cheeks apart, a soft gasp sounding from her mouth when he runs a lubed fingertip around the ring of muscles.

"Such a pretty hole," he murmurs, and she whimpers when she feels him spit, the saliva landing on her asshole, "Love filling you up, you know that? Every last one of these gorgeous holes."

She moans when he fits his finger inside, pushing it all the way to the knuckle. He knows she's experienced with anal so he doesn't feel like he has to be as precious about the process, knowing that she adores the sensation.

"Too bad daddy'll never share you with anyone though. No one will ever get to see how your ass and pussy squeeze around me... that's just for daddy, isn't it?"

Y/N muffles through a moan and he tuts as he pushes a second finger in.

"That's not an answer, bunny. Try again."

She shutters out a sigh and slowly blinks her eyes open, trying her to best not to be overwhelmed by him stretching her out.

"'s just for you, daddy."

"What is, angel?"

"My holes, daddy."

"Good girl," he mumbles, withdrawing his fingers. His cock twitches as he watches her ass gape ever so slightly, the loss of anything inside instantly making her feel empty. It's quickly over, though, because he's rubbing the tip of the lubed plug over her hole. "Deep breath, sweetheart, you know the drill."

Despite doing this numerous times, the stretch never quite gets old for Y/N. (Admittedly, Harry never tires of the view, either.) When her muscles swallow up the thick of the plug, revealing the pink bejeweled end, he groans, tapping it lightly.

"Does that feel better, baby?"

"Uh-huh."

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, daddy."

He smirks and gently pats the backs of her thighs, a wordless gesture to flip back over. She does, her eyelashes fluttering at the feeling of the plug slightly wiggling inside of her, pressing deep against her walls.

She leans up onto her elbows, watching as he palms his length through the material of his underwear. With wide eyes, she looks up at him, trying to ignore the way she can feel her arousal dripping down the inside of her thighs, making a sticky mess.

"What, bunny? Why are you looking at me like you're expecting something?"

Y/N pouts and Harry has to try not to smirk down at her.

"Use your words, angel."

Her pout deepens. They both know what she wants — her pussy is all but screaming for attention — and it's embarrassing to have to admit it. She adores the way he knows her body, but he's clearly feeling just a little meaner tonight by making her verbalize all of the filthy things running through her brain.

"Want you here, daddy." She mumbles cutely, bucking her hips up slightly. He hums and uses a finger to stroke over her mound, down to her crease where her juices are steadily collecting.

"Here?" He asks mockingly, teasing her folds with light movements. It's not enough for her to receive any pleasure, instead just causing her to wiggle around as she attempts to guide him to her pulsating hole.

"Inside," she all but huffs, and he chuckles, removing his touch altogether.

"Ah, where'd my good girl go?" He smirks, "You know that's not how you ask. Plus, if you keep squirming around like this, I'll have to tie you up."

Her stomach clenches at the thought; he's always more keen on edging her until she's crying when he ties her up. She's not in the mood for that tonight — she already feels like he's been edging her by refusing to give into her — so she puffs out a breath, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"Want you in my pussy, please."

"That's all you had to say, baby," Harry murmurs. She wants to roll her eyes but she knows she'll only get spanked for it, so she nods, reveling in the sensation of his hands back on her as he separates her lips, a cooing sound forming from the back of his throat at his eyes gaze over her swollen pussy. "You have a filthy little pussy. Did you know that, bunny?"

She shakes her head.

"Don't lie to daddy," he utters, delivering a swift slap to her clit. It makes her gasp, the quick sting that's gone just as quickly as it came. "You wouldn't be begging for my cock all the time if you didn't."

Some form of an "uh huh" leaves her mouth and he chuckles. Slowly, his fingertip trails down her crease and to the place she needs him most, circling her hole once before pushing in. Her back arches and her eyes squeeze closed, immediately grateful to finally receive something.

"You'll take anything I give you, won't you?" Harry continues as he pumps his finger, "My fingers, my tongue. My cock, of course. Even my cum — made you daddy's little cumslut, didn't I?"

She moans loudly and nods her head, her hair forming messy knots at the friction.

"L-love it," she stutters, the knot in her stomach winding up tightly, "Love feeling your cum inside me, daddy."

"I know you do." He purrs, pushing another finger in. "Bet you'd let me get you all swollen with it if I wanted. Carrying my baby around like the little slut you are."

They're both too wound up to even realize what he's said. They've never breached this territory before, never even considered if a future was in the cards for them. But Y/N's already whining over it before Harry has a chance to second guess himself, her pussy squeezing his fingers rapidly; a telltale sign that her peak is but a few moments away.

"I would, I would," she chants as she pants loudly, "Fuck— fuck, I'm yours, daddy, I—"

Her words are cut off by the throaty moan that parts her lips, the rope in her core finally splitting. It's so much, so good, her muscles contracting around his fingers as he works her through it, never ceasing his praises.

"There's my girl."

"So fucking beautiful for me."

"God, I got so lucky with you. Fuck."

Her pussy is drooling over his hand now, leaking down to the plug still firmly inside of her. He bites his lip at the visual, her hole still throbbing in haphazard pulses as he frees his cock from the confides of his underwear, desperate to feel her.

With fluttering eyes, she blinks her eyelashes open as she watches him, her mind filled with fuzzy static. She doesn't even realize she's leaked spit out of her mouth until he smiles gently, using soft fingertips to wipe it away.

"Already cock dumb, sweetheart?"

She nods.

"Can you take more, or are you done? Squeeze my hand if you want to be done."

She doesn't — although her mind is bleary and struggling to string together coherent thoughts, the idea of not having Harry inside of her seems terrible. She can tell he looks concerned (his eyebrows are knit together ever so slightly as he strokes up and down her arm, waiting for her to say her safe word), but she has no plans of breaking now.

"More," her mouth finally forms around the syllables, pushing it out hoarsely, "Can do it."

"Yeah?" he asks through raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Again, she nods. Hesitantly, he shimmies up the length of her body, knees pressed into the comforter with his length hot and heavy in his palm.

"You know what to do if it's too much. Safe word or squeeze my hand three times."

And then finally — finally — after what seems like hours of teasing and edging (and, quite frankly, it could have been hours; Y/N's too foggy to know), he pushes his cock inside of her and everything feels right. So right, so good, so perfect.

Her jaw drops open and she leans her head against the crook of his neck, his own groans filling the otherwise quiet room. They're not typically this silent, especially when he first enters her — she's usually whimpering and he's teasing her, calling her a dog in heat or something along those lines — but it's just so... fulfilling, and satisfying, that she can't even put it into words.

When he builds up to a steady pace, mewls begin to break free from her throat, her eyes rolling back as she lays down against the pillows again. He leans back onto his heels and pushes her thighs up against her knees, looping his arms around them to keep her there. He's far deeper that way — they can both feel it — and he gets the prettiest views of her fucked out face and plugged up ass.

"Shit — you're so good, my fuckin' girl."

Too hazy to answer, she just nods, echoing his words. "Your girl."

"Yeah? Gonna take my cum, sweetheart? Want me to fuck it deep into you?"

"P-please," she babbles, reaching down between their bodies to play with her clit, "Want— want your babies, wanna be yours, please daddy."

"My sweet girl wants to be a mama?" he's clenching down his teeth so harshly he's nervous he may break something, "I'll give you anything, baby, pump my cum so deep in your womb you won't even remember your fuckin' name."

Chants of please, please, please are all that can leave her at this point, deft fingers rolling over her clit as she feels her third orgasm rapidly approaching. He knows it, too, and he groans at the sensation of her pussy clenching over his cock.

"Cum for me one more time and I'll do it. My fertile little pussy, hm? Pretty fucking girl gonna be the prettiest mama."

That's all it takes for her to explode around him, this time gushing out clear bursts of liquid. He groans and curses, the sight instantly sending him to his own edge. In the back of his mind, he knows that squirting all over his torso and legs will put her to the final brink of exhaustion, and he's internally grateful that he can let go and make good on his promise to her.

So, he does. He finishes deep inside her, pushing his hips all the way up against her bum as his balls throb and empty, fucking his cum as far as it'll go. They're a mess of liquids and sweat and they both know it's gross, but there's not a single place either one of them would rather be.

When her eyelashes flitter open and she looks up at him, an exhausted smile forming on her lips, he swears he's never seen anything more beautiful.

. . .

"What are your plans for the holidays?"

Harry raises his eyebrows as he spoons some more miso soup into his mouth. It's a gloomy Saturday evening, with the temperatures finally dropping down to appropriate autumnal climates. Y/N came over this morning to pick up a book he recommended for her, but — as if either one hadn't expected it — ended up staying all day, basking in the cozy glory of Harry's apartment. They snuggled up on the couch, watching Jeopardy reruns, taking turns napping and retrieving snacks and drinks for the other.

"Well," he clears his throat, "I'm not American so I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving. And Christmas is a bit far away, so I'm not sure. Why?"

She shrugs, pulling her knees up to her chest. "My sister was asking if I'm coming home for Thanksgiving."

"Ah. Are you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"Why? Isn't it coming up?"

She nods her head, occupying her fingers with a loose thread at the end of Harry's tee shirt that she had thrown over her body.

"Yeah. I just... I don't know if it's stupid, but I was curious about what you were doing. Before I made any decisions."

Harry's heart thumps in his chest, his entire body warming at her taking his plans into consideration.

"That's sweet of you, baby. Hadn't really thought about it, though."

Again, she nods, and he thinks that may be the end of the conversation. He doesn't want to impose, especially since he thinks he's been doing particularly well with the whole not-confessing-his-love thing, so he unmutes the TV and directs his attention back to the screen.

"Wait!" she blurts out, and he mutes it again through furrowed brows, "What if you... like, came with me?"

"For Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah," she bites her lip, nerves apparent on her face, "It's no pressure, my sister's hosting just 'cos she just bought a house with her girlfriend and they have two dogs that are really cute, and my dad might be there but he's not one of those weird hover-y dads that care about who I bring around, not that he wouldn't care but it would be weird to have to explain how we met, and my mom is probably spending it with my step-dad so it'll be pretty low-key, and—"

"Y/N." Harry cuts her off with a smirk before setting his bowl of soup down on the table. "Breathe. You're gonna pass out, I've never heard you talk so fast."

She takes a deep breath and he smiles, murmuring out a good as he turns to face her.

"I would love to come and celebrate Thanksgiving with you. That sounds really nice. Thank you for inviting me."

"Really?"

"Of course," he replies easily. "I love any time we spend together."

Her cheeks warm and she nods, as if she's convincing herself he's being truthful.

"Um... so, like, how should I introduce you?" she asks, and there are so many butterflies swarming Harry's stomach that he doesn't know if he can get any words out.

"Well... how would you like to introduce me?"

She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her lips into her mouth. "I mean, I don't know... maybe, like..."

And then she mumbles something, but it's so low that he can't hear a thing.

"I didn't hear that."

She repeats it, and Harry lets out a laugh when he still doesn't understand her.

"Baby, speak up. I can't hear you."

"WhatifIsaidyouweremyboyfriend."

"What?"

"WhatifIsaidyouweremyBOYFRIEND."

"Y/N, seriously, I don't know—"

"Boyfriend!" she exclaims, "What if I said you were my boyfriend?"

He can't fight the grin that breaks out onto his face, especially given her wide, exasperated eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever tire of teasing her.

"Is this you asking me to be your boyfriend?"

She groans and goes to rise from the couch, only to be quickly brought back down by Harry. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her towards him as his chest vibrates with laughter.

"Ask me properly."

She huffs, twisting in his lap. Swallowing nervously, she looks down, and he intertwines their fingers together.

"Harry... would you want to be my boyfriend?" she peers up at him through her eyelashes and he smiles that big, dimpled smile that she loves, and realizes she has nothing to worry about.

"I would love nothing more than to be your boyfriend."

He decides to save the I-love-you confession for another day, because he wants nothing more than to do things properly with her.

But when a matching toothy grin appears on her face, he mentally amends the one thing he got wrong about her: This is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

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bunniekittiee · 6 months

Text

Movie Night

I wanted to do headcanons for a movie night with some of the men from MK cause rn I wanna watch a movie and eat snacks and cry my feelings out lol. I just did gender neutral reader instead of fem.

A little nsfw but only at Kung Lao and Raiden’s part . Not detailed or anything, just hinted at.

Characters- Tomas, Kuai Liang, Bi-Han, Kung Lao, Raiden

Tomas-

He was probably the one to suggest movie night. He loves watching movies, as well as spending time with his s/o.

He will make sure to set aside time for movie nights so that he doesn’t miss it or get sidetracked with other things.

Tomas likes to watch comedy movies, but he will watch a good horror movie.

He doesn’t like action movies too much as he lives in the action. He doesn’t want to see what he does on a day-to-day basis on the tv screen.

He will watch Spiderman though (hehe). Thinks Spiderman is great. Peter Parker reminds him of himself (hmm I wonder why).

Tomas doesn’t get scared very easily when watching horror movies. He can expect the jump scares a lot of the time.

But he doesn’t mind if his s/o cuddles into him or grabs onto him if they’re scared. He thinks it’s cute.

He likes to tease them about it.

Tomas loves to have a lot of snacks available for him and his significant other. He will go shopping beforehand and get everything for movie night.

Will make crazy concoctions of his popcorn with M&M’s and chocolate syrup sometimes (I’ve had that before I will admit it and it was good so don’t even bully him)

He likes the saltiness and sweetness of his weird popcorn concoction.

Absolutely feels like crap after he eats a lot of bad snacks. He’s got a bloated tummy, and he feels a bit gross.

Will ask for a tummy rub during the movie.

Likes to wear matching pjs during movie nights.

Kuai Liang-

He looks forward to movie nights because that is when he gets time to relax and spend time with his lover.

He and his s/o will eat a meal while watching movies. He prefers it that way a little bit.

So he will have their kitchen cooks prepare what they want so it is ready for their movie time. Or sometimes Kuai Liang will make it himself.

He is a great cook, he is skilled at many things.

Loved cuddling while watching movies. He will increase his body temperature to be his s/o’s personal blanket.

Expect a lot of kisses from Kuai, he’s v affectionate, esp during movie time.

He will like to watch romance or rom-coms. He isn’t a horror fan, he will watch them but he isn’t into it really.

Kuai doesn’t get scared, he is just tired of seeing bloodshed. When it’s something he deals with everyday, he doesn’t want to see it at home when he’s relaxing.

But paranormal movies are a little different, he will watch those.

Sometimes gets a little paranoid but he won’t admit it.

Kuai dresses comfortably during movie night so he’s typically shirtless and in lounge pants or sweats. Maybe even his boxers, it just depends.

Liang will indulge in snacks though, even if he prefers meals. But nothing crazy. He’s not like Tomas where his sweet tooth is crazy big, but it’s still there.

Will fuck up a pack of cupcakes to himself. Licks the container clean.

Bi-Han-

He’s the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, why should he waste time watching Hollywood films?

You put on the Addams Family, and he’s glued to the screen. He finds it interesting.

It’s hard to sit and watch a movie with Bi-Han. He has to find the time to watch a movie, but also because he has a hard time sitting still.

Not in like an ADHD way, more like in a “there’s important work I need to do and I’m stressing about it” kind of way.

He will watch anything but Johnny Cage’s films. If his s/o put one of his movies on, Bi-Han is walking out and going back to his paperwork.

How dare they waste his time like that?

He does like fantasy films despite living in a fantasy world himself. He’s never seen a dragon, but wouldn’t that be cool to see?

He’s sure they exist in one of the realms. He just has to find it.

Doesn’t really snack on junk food, he’s more of a fruit salad kind of guy (fruit salad is good tho so i cant blame him).

Eats his vegetables. Ugh, why Bi-Han?

He will indulge in some sweets like dark chocolate, but that’s the farthest he will go. He’s just never been a fan of sweets or carbs I guess.

Party Pooper Bi-Han.

But he will buy his s/o all the snacks they want and what foods they want as well. He’ll even have the chefs cook something.

He wants his lover to be happy and content. Plus he doesn’t mind if they eat junk food. He thinks it’s cute.

Will make the temperature cold so his s/o cuddles with him closer. He pretends like he doesn’t do it on purpose.

Kinda prefers to watch TV in bed rather than sit in the living room or somewhere else.

He only feels that way because he can turn over on his side and go to bed if he’s tired enough. On a couch, he can’t do that.

Especially on the uncomfortable ass couches in the Lin Kuei palace that are not made for comfort. He would rather get his spine ripped out.

Kung Lao-

You have to have an entire four-course dinner catered to this man during movie time.

He’s a bottomless pit. He has to do a lot of shopping if he knows he and his s/o are having a movie night.

He will eat so many snacks it’s ridiculous.

He likes comedy movies, but he will sit down and watch a horror movie too.

Slasher films to be specific. Doesn’t like poltergeist movies, he’s afraid he will be haunted.

He won’t admit that though. But if he and his s/o watch a poltergeist movie he will do his best to seem like he’s not scared.

Is the type to overanalyze horror films and point on the flaws or how unrealistic it is.

Has choked laughing at a comedy film and it just about gave his s/o a heart attack.

If cuddling ensues, be prepared to have crumbs stuck to you. He makes a mess.

Kung Lao was also the one to probably suggest movie night similar to Tomas.

Will give his s/o small kisses during the movie but doesn’t do it too much. He knows he will get too horny, and there will be no point of return.

Sometimes there has been movie nights ‘ruined’ by his horniness. I say ruined lightly because it’s not really ruined yk.

He just gets distracted easily. He cant help it.

Does make up for it with another movie night and tries to control his horniness but don’t bet on it.

Raiden-

Big on cuddling, absolute cuddle bug.

Has a lot of blankets ready and will make the house cold so he and his s/o can cuddle close.

Likes watching family kind of movies or romance. Doesn’t like horror really.

He’s a mix of junk food and healthy food. He likes to keep his physique nice.

But he doesn’t care if his s/o eats junk food, he will buy them anything they want.

Raiden will give his s/o small kisses during the movies, and he will pull them closer to his body. He likes having them close to him.

He’s a big softie as everyone knows, so movie time is mainly just kissing and cuddling. He’s not outwardly sexual about it.

But he won’t turn his s/o down if they engage in it.

Tends to fall asleep during movies. He gets so comfortable esp around his s/o, so he feels sleepy.

Loves it when they play with his hair. It makes him feel even more drowsy.

He loves their fingers going through his locks and the sensations.

Doesn’t outwardly ask for a massage during movie time but he may hint at it.

BONUS!!!!!!!!

Liu Kang-

He’s excited for movie time!!

He does love some relaxation after a stressful day. He has a lot of stress in his life being Earthrealm’s Protector.

So he likes to unwind when he can. Liu Kang is never against taking mental health days.

He likes to watch peaceful movies. Something romantic but not heart wrenching.

Horror movies aren’t something he wants to watch. He’s seen much worse in his life.

They aren’t frightening to him, but he does like it when his s/o cuddles closer to him because they’re scared.

Makes him feel big and strong.

Showers his s/o in kisses. Kisses all over their face and body. He attacks them with kisses.

Smiles when they kiss him back.

Cuddles are great with him, he holds his s/o in his lap practically and he is just v comfortable to be around.

After watching sci-fi movies, he likes to discuss different theories both he and his s/o may have about the lore of the movie.

He likes to hear them talk about things that they’re questioning and what they’re interested to know.

Of course, he doesn’t have the answers, but he likes to theorize.

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bluecollarmcandtf · 6 months

Text

Hey babe! Now that I can jump into people's bodies, Im looking for someone you can play around with tn💙 How do u feel about this handsome guy? I found him at the mall

I feel so strong and dominant walking around in this cop! 👮 if you want I can drive his patrol car to your office and give you a police escort home? Or I could just wait 🙄 Id love using this officer's body to scare some sense into those annoying neighbors of ours...

Wow, babe!

You sure know how to turn my day around! My jerk-of-a-boss is making me stay late again! I'd love to rip the uniform off that cop as soon as I get home, but I might be here awhile.

Hmm...

Maybe this lil army boy will change your mind! I pulled him over while wearing that cop, and I literally drooled when I saw him 😜🫡 I ordered him to step out of the vehicle so I could pat him down, and he had to do it! Anyways, I left the cop somewhere on the highway. What do ya think of this new body? I definitely like wearing him...

Wow, babe, just wow! That is one stud of a soldier. I'd love to thank him for his service, but that doesn't change the fact that I've got to finish these files by Monday. Sorry.

Youre gonna work yourself to death babe! But fine 😭 I'll just have to entertain myself tonight. Wonder what that annoying neighbor of ours is up to...

Omg, babe! I just jumped into our neighbor, and he's at work🤯👷

Check out the massive gut on this man! He's such a pig! That wife of his must be a great cook when shes not nagging us about HOA violations! Should I call her as her hubbie and start some drama lol...

Definitely, do not do that!

He may be annoying, but you don't need to end his marriage, babe.

Fine, but can I at least embarrass him in front of his coworkers? This guy could use a real humility check

Do whatever you want with him, babe. I think he could be brought down a peg. Take your time, too! I've got a few more hours left at the office unfortunately.

Ugh! Lemme see if I can change that...

There 😤

I just found that boss of yours and jumped in his body! Now I order you to come up to his office and air all your frustrations with me...

Woah! I'm running!

While I'm up there we're filing some paperwork to give me a raise and more vacation days!

Oh he'll give you everything you want with a sweet little BJ to show his appreciation 🤑👅 just hurry. Your boss is on his knees waiting...

#gay possession #male body swap #male possession #bodyswapper #bodysuit #gay ai #ai man #body possession #body swap #body theft

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starkwlkr · 9 months

Note

one where charles gets jealous of uncle pierre because ruby talks all the time that she admires and loves him so much, i think you get the point lol

she love me she loves me not | charles leclerc

“Uncle Pierre can do more push ups!”

“Uncle Pierre knows how to cook pasta!”

“Uncle Pierre let me drive his car!”

Uncle Pierre. That’s all Charles heard whenever Ruby was around. Pierre this, Pierre that. There wasn’t a day that Pierre’s name wasn’t mentioned in the Leclerc household.

It was a normal night for the Leclerc’s. The family was together before Charles and Arthur had to go back to the race track. Mathéo and Ruby were jumping on the trampoline while the family made dinner in the kitchen.

“Did Ruby tell you she wants to go to the next race?” Y/n asked Charles as she took several plates from the cabinets.

“No she hasn’t. When did she tell you this?” Charles wondered.

“Uhh, I think two weeks ago? I was talking with Kika on the phone and Pierre was there too—”

There it was again. Pierre. He loves his friend, don’t get him wrong, but the constant mention of the frenchman definitely made Charles start thinking bad about himself. Even his own daughter talked more about Uncle Pierre than Papa Charles. Was there something wrong with him? There had to be if Ruby always talked about Pierre.

“Honey? Charles? Are you okay?” Y/n asked when she noticed that Charles wasn’t listening to her.

“Yeah, yeah, next race she’ll be there. I’ll tell Fred that Ruby’s coming.” Charles cleared his throat.

“Actually she told me she wants to go in the Alpine garage with Pierre. That’s why I was going to ask you if it was okay with you before you zoned out. . .”

Great.

“Is that what she wants? Is she sure? Maybe she should stay in the Ferrari garage, Joris is going to be there so she won’t be alone. And I take great care of her so why does she want to be in the Alpine garage? I’m her papa, she love me, right?” Charles rambled on as he aggressively chopped vegetables.

“Charles, look at me. And please put down the knife.” Y/n sighed.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Charles finally asked.

“What?”

“Am I doing something wrong? I mean Ruby always has something to say about Pierre . . How he cooks better than me, he tells better jokes, I just . . . I just get this feeling that Pierre is doing something that I’m not that Ruby is the only one who notices. It’s always Uncle Pierre.”

“Charles, she’s your daughter, of course she loves you.” Y/n assured him.

“But does she like me?” He asked.

“What?”

“Does Ruby like me? I just . . Maybe she doesn’t like me, maybe she likes Pierre better, maybe I’m not a good papa to her.” Charles went on.

“I know Ruby talks about Pierre a lot, but she also talks nonstop about her papa. I’ll talk to her tonight,” Y/n replied. “You’re a great father to our babies, Charles. Don’t ever doubt yourself. The kids and I love and like you.”

“She can go to the Alpine garage next race if that is what she wants. I don’t mind,”Charles sighed. Weeks ago, Pierre had told Charles that he missed Ruby and how he had some presents for her. “I’ll have Théo and you in my corner.”

“Sweetheart, you’re the best papa in the whole damn world. We’ll always be with you.”

#inbox <3 #anon #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #baby leclerc series #charles leclerc imagine

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phantom-0-writer · 8 months

Text

*standing menacingly at the door* i made u something

anyways lol. i had a lot of school work and was really busy freaking out and stress studying for a singular test that was 4 questions and would be over in like an hour and then i proceeded to cry about it in my car for various reasons.

but yk what that means!

time for our irregular and unscheduled update of

Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

this episode featuring a fan favorite: Duke Thomas (aka The Signal - but thats kind of irrelevant for this)

you were supposed to read that like it was from a '90s sitcom and the off screen crowd cheers rly loudly.

some house keeping updates: this scene happens in the beginning of the school year (going by the american system should be september) danny meets damian (and upsurges tim on the same day) around midterm which is around october and then the stuff with jason and damian's drawing happens around december. i kinda accidentally burned the irl timeline for anything dc first scene so now im just gonna do whatever i want.

anyways with out further ado:

table of contents

scene 04: after school activities for normal kids

Duke stood around the corner of the classroom awkwardly, wondering if he had made the right call. Sure the bats and the birds had a plethora of hands on deck any time, but most of them specialized as night time heros. Not to say that they were incompetent or anything, they were some of the most skilled and innovative people Duke had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Sure if anything happened, they could handle it, at least until Duke could slip away and show up as the Signal- Alfred and Bruce had assured him so much. But Duke couldn’t slip the guilt of busying away more of his time to after school activities when he could be patrolling or studying instead,

But Duke had wanted to do something outside of those things, which was specifically why he had made the difficult decision to join a few clubs and after school activities. He could use a break from being surrounded by people who worked the vigilante life-style just to remember how to be a normal civilian. Let himself take a break from constantly be consumed by one case or another, one disaster or another, not being able to do enough no matter how much he tried or how much time he spent patrolling.

Duke needed to feel grounded, like his feet were on the ground and he could press the brakes and smell the fragrance of life. Even if the fragrance was a forgotten pile of dog s-

“Alright,” The instructor for their culinary club started with a weird German accent that sounded really fake. “I am Herman. You can call me Chef or Chef Herman or just Chef. I will not bore you all with the boring introductions, and let's head right into the cooking, yes. On this paper here I made the partners for all of you to cook with for the rest of the year. If you have problem with it then quit.”

This Herman guy seemed like quite the character, and was definitely not helping any of Duke’s previous anxieties. Many of Duke’s clubmates seem to think so too, sending their friends various looks. But no one spoke out, and instead shuffled to the front to look at the singular sheet of paper that would assign them their partners. Duke finally made it to the front and saw that he was paired with a Daniel Fenton at Station 7.

Crossing his fingers that Daniel had at least only a half-rotten personality, Duke made his way over to station 7. The station was already prepped with an assortment of ingredients and cooking equipment. Duke had already set his stuff down claiming the seat closer to the exit (in case) when a lanky kid comes over, “Uh, your Duke Thomas?” He asks hesitantly looking back at the front counter the partner assignment sheet was.

It took Duke an awkward second longer to realize that this kid was probably his partner. “Oh yeah I am.” He laughed apologetically, “You must be Daniel.”

“Danny’s fine.” The boy smiled, absentmindedly brushing his messy black hair out of his face, his glacier blue looking at the equipment. Duke couldn’t help but feel like there was something off about Danny. Not in Gotham’s usual psycho-maniac-out-to-terrorizer-the-city-and-kill-innocent-people kind of off, more in a he’s not in sync with the rest of the world off. While Chef Herman explained the general structure of various types of kitchen and kitchen hierarchy that Duke was already familiar with, Duke tried to get a read on him.

Weird did not mean threat, after all many of the Justice League- heck even the local Wayne/Batclan were pretty weird- and they (usually) didn’t mean any harm. It wouldn’t be fair of Duke to jump the horse like that.

Deciding he should try to be friendly with him, Duke leaned over, “Is it just me or is Chef Herman’s accent totally fake?” he whispered.

“Oh, Ancients,” Anciets? “I thought I was just going insane.” Danny sighed in relief with a small chuckle. There was a moment of silence between the two of them where no one said anything for longer than socially acceptable and Duke debated using his powers to see if he could find a clue or something. That seemed kinda invasive, though.

When the Chef had started instructions on making today's recipe, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Danny helped Duke measure out the ingredients. “So,” Danny tried again, “What are you in for?”

“What am I…” Duke repeated confused,

Danny chuckled awkwardly, “Like why you joined the club.”

Duke seriously needed to get his head in the present; this was getting embarrassing. “Oh.” He nodded in understanding, “I’ve always liked cooking,” Duke shrugged, “When I was little my parents and I would always cook together, and it was always one of my favorite things to do. And I’ve kinda always liked it, but I fell off of it for a while with school and stuff,” emphasis on the stuff “I thought joining a club could help me get back into it and get away from… everything.” That was a little more candid than Duke had planned on being with someone he had met quite literally a few minutes ago, but it felt good to have that out of his chest. The pleasant memories of his parents swimming in his mind. Mixing the dry ingredients, “Sorry that was kind of a lot.” Duke laughed genuinely this time.

“Dude, no it’s actually so cool that you like to cook.” Danny said admiration was easy on his face, and Duke couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.

“What about you, then?”

“Ugh,” He groaned jokingly, “You can’t seriously be asking for my lame ass reason after you pulled out the flashbacks.” Danny whined, letting the oven preheat like Chef told them to.

“C’mon, it’s only fair.” Duke played along, already ahead of the other groups.

Danny sighed, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Okay, it can’t be that bad.” Duke could already feel the smile cracking on his face.

“It is.” Danny drawlled, “So I live in the dorms right, and I got to pull some strings and room with one of my friends from back home this year. And well, let’s just say my family has a bit of a reputation for causing problems, and the kitchen definitely wasn’t an exception. One time my dad tried to make some soup for my mom because she got sick.” Duke nodded approvingly, that was a sweet gesture, “It was all fun and games until the bomb squad had to show up and long story short we had to move.”

“You’re joking.” Duke gaped at the bizarre story, but at Danny’s solemn expression, Duke couldn’t help but be appalled, “A bomb squad over soup.”

“My parents were never really heavy on lab safety,” Danny added, as if that explained everything, “But I burn one pot of water and maybe make a few extra-crispy eggs, and suddenly its all ‘Danny you’re not allowed in the kitchen unless you start taking actual classes’ and ‘Danny that's a biohazard’.”

“You burned a pot of water.” Duke echoed, Danny nodded innocently, “Water doesn’t burn.”

“Well, maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.” Danny sneered, trying to crack an egg on the corner of the bowl only for all the shell to fall in the bowl and the yolk on the counter.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.” Duke said, taking the bowl from him and expertly cracking an egg single handedly. Danny looked on in awe. “You said you live in the dorms?” Duke asked easily.

“Oh yeah, all of the non-local scholarship kids have to.”

Before Duke could respond, a girl from the station in front of them whips her head around, “You said you’re here on a scholarship?” She asked almost oppressively.

Danny just as taken aback as Duke felt, “Uh, yeah.”

“Me, too. Have you heard anything about the Mentorship Program here? Apparently we all have to join.” The girl’s partner was looking between Duke and Danny confused, but returned to their cooking uninterested.

“Oh, yeah. They make us all join.” Danny nodded.

“I heard from some of the older kids, that no one actually gets picked for that. It’s just like a weird formality thing.” The girl spoke animatedly, “What department are you in?”

“Applied physics and engineering design.” The oven beeps that it was ready but no one moved.

The girl seemed to deflate that answer, “Oh, I’m doing culinary science.” And with that solid conclusionary statement, she turned around and got back to her work station.

Danny blinked, processing what just happened and slowly turning to look at Duke for proof that just happened. But the second the both of them met each other’s eyes, they burst into a fit of silent laughter.

Bent vunuralably over the table, trying to catch their breath, they were accosted by Chef Hermon. “The two of you are having a comedy club, not a cooking club.” Chef crossed his arms at the edge of the table. Duke was pretty sure he was trying to sold them, but the fake accent was making it hard to tell.

Danny cleared his throat and striated up, “Sorry, Sir.” He apologized quickly.

“Chef.” Hermon peered at them, his hat looking comically large and lopsided on his head now that Duke was getting a closer look.

“Sorry, Chef.” Duke amended, trying to keep his cool.

“Yes, finish cooking your cookies.” He nodded satisfied, leaving their station.

“Okay so,” Duke tried to recount what the last thing they did was, but one look at Danny trying desperately to hold in his laugh had ruined all of Duke’s efforts as well. Barely managing to get their cookies in the oven, over Chef’s fake german accent and floppy oversized chef’s hat.

“So scholarship for applied physics and engineering design, huh.” Duke recounted from earlier, impressed.

“Yeah…” Danny trailed off embarrassed, “It sounds kinda snotty.”

“Dude. That’s literally one of the hardest departments to get into, and the scholarship is no sneeze either. There’s no doubt you worked your butt off to get that.” Duke assured Danny as they sat in their stools waiting for the cookies to finish.

“Thanks,” Danny smiled sheepishly. They sat in a much more comfortable silence now before Danny spoke again, “What grade are you in by the way?”

“I’m in 10th. General studies for now, but I was thinking of doing medicine. You?”

“I could totally see you as a hot-shot doctor.” Danny nodded approvingly, “11th. Technically, I’m your upperclassman then.”

“Technically?” Duke asked.

“I mean, how old are you?”

“15.” Duke supplied confused.

“Me too. I skipped a grade in elementary school, so we’re actually the same age.” Danny explained, sheepishly.

“Dude, you're actually way smart.” Duke gaped in awe.

“Hey medicine isn’t a day walk either.” Danny nudged his arm playfully, “I’m glad the mentorship thing is just for show, though. Now that we’re upperclassmen, y’know. I would not want my hands full with some random rich kid.”

Duke laughed, “Yeah, that definitely sounds like a lot of work.”

Easily unfolding the conversation into various topics and interests Duke found that he didn’t mind that the cookies were burnt. Or that Danny was definitely weird. But in a good way. Duke was glad they met and would get to hang out and cook with their weird not-German Chef every week. And if Danny and Duke exchanged numbers and planned to hangout outside of club activities, then well who was going to stop them.

#a little fluff to make our day better #duke and danny #the world definitely needs more of them #they start off a little shaky but their bffs at the end #danny heard the chef's weird accent and thought it was bc of time travel shenanigans and decided it was just best not to comment on that #duke will def be rubbing his friendship with danny in the other bat's faces once he gets indoctrinated #jack blew up his house over chicken noodle soup and no one lets him live it down #Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program #dpxdc #dp x dc au #batpham #danny phantom #duke thomas #signal #phantom

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natalyarose · 26 days

Text

𝐵𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒾 𝓌𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃

🩷 My 'mother in law' is Ashwini Sun in Lahiri, but she always felt super Bharani to me- she had an extremely abusive father, and she just adores her kids and even me. She's a wonderful cook, and soo beautiful! When I first met her I thought she looked so young and vibrant to have a son my partner's age. She went through so much (had really intense childbirth too) and continues to be a nurturing powerhouse for the family, she's just a gem. She's Bharani in galactic center mid-mula ayanamsa 🌌

🩷 My own mama was similar, she was a Bharani Moon- harsh childhood and raised by nuns in an institution (I've noticed this being a theme with Moon in the 10th sometimes). She didn't get that fairytale childhood and she wanted to give that to her babies so much. She was also very beautiful & a great cook. The girls and I used to always say she should go on MasterChef lol. She had me at 42 & my youngest sister at 47- so Bharani, the theme of 'delayed gratification' and the slow moving nature of the elephant yoni 🐘 Sadly she had unhealed demons you could say and there was some darker stuff, but I always recognise how much she gave to us and devoted to us. She bared so much to bring us into this world, rip mum 🤍🩷

Both are also 'exotic' women considering where I'm from, and Venusian Nakshatras relate to rarity and exoticism.

🤍 - I also have a close friend who is Bharani ascendant- gorgeous, 'exotic' by standards of where she lives, adores cooking & her children immensely

🤍my ex roommate had a Bharani placement & willingly handled the cooking for the both of us. I never asked her to or anything, she just loved cooking and sharing her food. She also had a very abusive upbringing.

The feminine strength Bharani exudes astounds me every time I meet a native. They truly go through so much and then often go on to nurture others and go out of their way to give them what they didn't get as a kid.

I'm a D9 Bharani Moon and I do see these themes in myself- I'm not a cook however though lol. I suspect I will be when I'm older though, as D9 activates & unfolds more by means of maturity & self-realisation.

Note: I'm vey anti generalisations since every chart and human being is unique- not every Bharani native will be this way or have these exact experiences depending on other influences and in part free will, but it's definitely a theme that's just wonderful to get to observe

#nakshatras #astrology #vedic astrology #spirituality #vedic #vedic astro observations

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vettelsdarling · 10 months

Note

Could you please do a Charles x Schumacher!reader insta au? Where she’s a chef and they both do a soft launch. I don’t really have much of an idea but can you make it a bit long? Not like with text but just a lot of posts? I hope I’m requesting right lol

I really liked your Danny insta au

Crème De La Crème, Ma Chérie

Lissie note… I really like the idea of reader being a chef! Haven’t seen that before??? You’re giving me a lot of creative freedom and I could not be happier<3 Thanks for this!!!

Few things to note:

Reader is Mick’s twin sister, and Gina’s younger sister.

Reader is a Michelin star chef (one star)

Reader is famous (obviously)

This follows the 2022 season

Reader and Charles have been dating since the beginning of the 2021 season (1 year)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Chef!Reader

Warnings: Some cursing, gut wrenching fluff

Here's the playlist recommendations

y/nschumacher

Liked by charles_leclerc, mickschumacher, gina_schumacher and 836,236 others

y/nschumacher Movie date and a home-cooked meal for him❤️

View all comments

mickschumacher You should invite us over for dinner soon… miss your cooking🙏

gina_schumacher Yes pleaseee!!

francisca.cgomes AHHH it looks SO GOOD😩 Where’s my share?🤨

user1 great dinner but WHO IS THAT🫣🫣🫣

user2 She’s allowed to date yk

user1 no need to be rude. I was just wondering who it was…

user3 It’s clearly a boyfriend that she doesn’t wanna reveal or something

user4 A SOFT LAUNCH???😭

user5 MOTHER NOOO😭😭😭😭

user6 Byebye… to my parasocial relationship…

user7 I haven’t seen her like this before and idk if I like it😭

user8 He never has to pay for dinner again💀💀💀

charles_leclerc

Liked by pierregasly, y/nschumacher and 1,184,339 others

charles_leclerc Tough weekend so far but we’ll improve for the next weekend.

View all comments

y/nschumacher Good luck next week!

user1 Somebody save him😭❤️

user2 y/n in the comments?

user3 She switched from Haas to Ferrari💀 Wonder what Mick has to say about that

user2 omg💀💀💀

user4 Seems suspicious…

user3 I mean, I don’t think so? She’s great friends with everyone on the track.

user5 Not Ferrari again😭😭😭 WHYYY

user6 Atp I don’t even wanna watch the races anymore😭 It’s just depression on a screen😭😭😭

user7 Ferrari is making him delusional💀 No way they’re ever gonna improve…

user8 I’m still hopeful😞🫶

user9 Tbh I’ve given up

y/nschumacher

Liked by mickschumacher, charles_leclerc and 735,229 others

y/nschumacher November dump🌅🍂 He tried to challenge my cooking. Bold move, sir… bold move.

View all comments

mickschumacher I doubt it tasted good😒

y/nschumacher It was actually really good

mickschumacher Biased.

y/nschumacher 🙄

carlossainz55 It was nice having you in the Ferrari garage for a change

Liked by y/nschumacher

gina_schumacher I miss you :/

y/nschumacher I’m coming to visit soon🫶

gina_schumacher You better

maxverstappen1 Red Bull > Ferrari

y/nschumacher No.

user1 since when did she become a Ferrari girl—

user2 wtaf is going on😭

user3 why are there so many drivers in her comments all of a sudden💀

user4 she’s soft launching. Mother is soft launching.

user5 Please leave him for me❤️

user6 No she’s leaving him for me😒

user7 Um no. She’s obviously leaving him for me🙄

user8 You’re all wrong. It’s always been me.

user9 Okay but whoever she’s dating is so lucky. Home-cooked Michelin meals? That’s literally living my dream.

user10 Ugh it’s so unfair. This guy should be ashamed he stole a national treasure

user11 I second that statement

user12 What’s with the new insta era😭 Pls post more food pics😔

wagsoff1

56,297 likes

wagsoff1 You heard it here first…

View all comments

user1 EXCUSE ME???? THIS WAS A YEAR AGO???

user2 wtaf this came out of nowhere…

user3 but where’s the proof😭

user4 It’s probably fake since there’s no proof

user5 I bet all the 13 yr olds and their parasocial relationships are disintegrating rn

user6 yeah um I won’t believe it until I see it💀

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/nschumacher and 855,970 others

charles_leclerc Drank some wine and went out for dinner for the first time in a long time😘

View all comments maxverstappen1 Wine and oysters, but you didn’t invite me…

charles_leclerc Sorry mate. Next time!

pierregasly Thanks for the date idea mate

Liked by charles_leclerc

user1 ig @ wagsoff1 was right

user2 Why am I crying

user3 This is genuinely so cute🤍

user4 His gf is so lucky

user5 WHO IS ITTTT

user6 Honestly, we should just look out for her at the paddock.

user7 We gotta wait for the next season for that…

user6 I forgot😭 I don’t want to wait so long ughhh

user8 Well, there goes my husband.

user9 Does anyone know who it is?

user10 I have an idea it’s someone we all know…

user9 Who?

user10 Dms

francisca.cgomes

Liked by y/nschumacher and 84,293 others

Tagged: y/nschumacher

View all comments

francisca.cgomes Girls night🥂🪩

y/nschumacher Same time next week?

francisca.cgomes Obviously🤍

pierregasly You cancelled date night for this?

francisca.cgomes It’s. Girls. Night.

pierregasly Understandable, have a nice day.

user1 IN LOVE WITH THIS FRIENDSHIP

user2 Me and my bestie when exam season is over:

user3 Literally

user4 Since when did they start hanging out🫣

user5 They’ve been friends for a long time, actually💀

user4 Oh okay I didn’t know😭

user5 Two pretty best friends🫶

y/nschumacher

Liked by charles_leclerc, gina_schumacher, mickschumacher and 763,298 others

Tagged: gina_schumacher

y/nschumacher I should stick to cooking… fell off so many times. How do you do it???

View all comments

gina_schumacher You’ll get there with practice!

y/nschumacher If I mount another horse, I will die.

charles_leclerc I’m sure you did great❤️

y/nschumacher I didn’t, but thank you❤️

mickschumacher Watching you fall was great entertainment

y/nschumacher At least I didn’t refuse to get on the horse😒

user1 WHAT WHAT WHATTTTT CHARLES??? THE HEARTS????

user2 wtaf this is insane😭

user3 is this their idea of a soft launch wtf😭

user4 they really just act as if it’s known💀💀

user 3 Literally💀

user5 so basically, Charles and Y/n?

user6 That explains why Charles wrote that one caption

user5 what caption?

user6 The one where he said he hadn’t been out for dinner in a long time

user5 whaaaat you’re right

user7 How did we not see this coming…

user8 I mean, they might not be dating? They could just be close friends…

user9 Nah, there’s no way

user8 You don’t know that

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/nschumacher, pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 1,173,994 others

charles_leclerc She took me wine shopping…

View all comments y/nschumacher She looks like she knows what she’s doing

charles_leclerc I hope she knows..?

maxverstappen1 Mate, she’s a keeper.

charles_leclerc I know

user1 Charles pls😭 We all know that’s Y/n

user2 I’ve been living under a rock. What’s going on???

user3 Y/n Schumacher is a Michelin chef (and also Mick’s sister). Basically there are rumours that Charles is dating her. They haven’t confirmed it, but it’s pretty obvious by their soft launch…

user2 I was gone for a few months from social media and this is what I come back to?😭

user4 Charles has taste

user5 She’s literally a goddess

user6 Ugh he’s so lucky but she’s also lucky… idk who I want to be. Both???

user7 relatable.

charles_leclerc and y/nschumacher

Liked by mickschumacher, y/nschumacher, maxverstappen1 and 1,482,663 others

charles_leclerc I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve had so much fun with you this past year. Happy 2 years anniversary❤️ Tu es créme de la créme, ma chérie❤️

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y/nschumacher Mein Süßer❤️

Liked by charles_leclerc

mickschumacher Congrats guys!

francisca.cgomes This is so cute😭❤️

gina_schumacher So happy for you guys🤍

maxverstappen1 Congrats!

pierregasly When’s the wedding?

francisca.cgomes Don’t push them like that

pierregasly Sorry.

francisca.cgomes No, I actually also want to know @ y/nschumacher🤨

y/nschumacher Wedding??! Too early… but maybe we’ll start talking over a steak dinner…

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪��𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

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adnauseum11 · 3 months

Text

Mess Hall (John Price x Reader)

John explains his early departure from poker night to you.

1.8k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

second part of the two-part scene

feedback welcome! writing smut is hard (lol) if anyone has any tips I'm grateful for them. Always looking to get better so don't be shy :)

Dinner was not edible, to John’s lasting amusement. The veggies cooked at disparate times, some too mushy and some practically raw. The pasta had been fine, John’s contribution solid as always. The flavour of the sauce had been the real star, if one didn’t mind the shrapnel you had introduced to it. Both of you had decided after half a bowl each that it was more work than it was worth. Your real dinner ended up being the world’s saddest charcuterie board, but John assured you he’d made do with worse.

“Just happy to be eating.” He said, brushing off your concerns about him going hungry.

“We could go to the pub.” You pick at the salami, perched on one foot tucked under you on a chair at the table.

“I just want to be with you, not up for the pub if that’s alright, love.” John’s honesty takes you by surprise, you glance at him but he seems otherwise content, building cheese and pickle onto a cracker.

“Yeah, of course that’s alright. You want to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, not wanting to call back his bad mood but curious what brought him to your doorstep now that he seems a bit more even keeled. He stuffs the food into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, looking at you from under his lashes. It’s the most indecisive you’ve seen him in a long time and you wonder suddenly if you want to know at all. Then he sighs and pushes his plate away, seemingly deciding something.

“I was offered a contract. Walk on, ready to go.”

Your lungs freeze, and you forget how to breath for a moment. Your focus narrows onto the man beside you, who is closely watching for your reaction. The question must have been written across your face because he answers without it needing to be spoken aloud.

“I told them no, love.”

“Oh, thank god.” You say in a rush, your lungs sucking in a breath desperately. You can’t help the selfish sentiment, reflexive as blinking. Your hand lands on your chest as if trying to keep your heart contained. John watches you, a soft smugness pulling at his features.

“Good to know you want me around, darling.”

“I always want you around, John.” The bald truth is out before you can temper it with humour.

If anyone had told you a year ago that you would be dating your oldest friend and making heartfelt confessions in your kitchen over a crappy dinner, you would have thought them crazy. But here you are, a mere few months into this with your heart in your throat at the thought of him leaving for any length of time. What used to be routine seems devastating now.

“Is that…are you upset you said no?” You ask cautiously, breaking the intense eye contact to pick at your plate.

“What? No, they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can’t play cards being badgered like that. They ought to know better.”

Relief that you aren’t the root cause of the bad mood floods through your system, making you bolder.

“You are incredibly stubborn. One ‘no’ should be enough.” You agree, earning yourself a dark look. You smile sweetly at him and reach across the expanse between your seats to cup his cheek, leaning in to his space to press a soft kiss to his frown.

His big palm slides up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place when you would retreat. He deepens the kiss before you can move, his fingers sliding into your scalp with delicious pressure. When he finally releases you, instead of backing off you follow, slipping out of your seat and crawling onto John’s lap, his thick thighs spread wide. He accepts your weight without even blinking, shifting you into a more comfortable position before fisting his hand in your hair and kissing you again. The delectable rasp of his tongue against yours makes liquid heat pool in your lower belly. You’re suddenly desperate to feel his skin pressing against yours, your smaller hands grabbing at his sides and shoulders.

Your urgency seems to bleed into him, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it up your back, pausing only for you to lift your arms before he’s pulling it free from your body and throwing it on the floor. You mimic his actions, pushing his shirt up to reveal the thickness of his chest. He grabs the fabric and tugs and it joins a growing pile of clothing. The dark wiry hair of his body whispers against your delicate skin, sending lightning bolts of desire through you, eager to be pressed against his heat.

Without any warning John is shoving the plates out of the way, the clanking tableware startling you out of your lust driven haze. Before you can speak, he’s lifted you, depositing you on the cleared space of the table with a gentle tinkle as glass knocks together. You look up at him wide-eyed but his intense blue eyes are darkened with desire and locked on your bra, his fingers moving faster than your brain can catch up. The look in his eyes and the cool air has your nipples pebbling, biting your bottom lip as he leans into your space and kisses you again. You have a vague notion of him throwing the piece of clothing, in the next heartbeat both of his hands are on you, urging you to recline backwards.

John’s hot mouth trails over your collarbone and sternum as you recline, your fingers curling into his short sandy brown hair. The wet pull of his mouth on your nipple has you gasping, arching into him. His hands have dropped from your sides to your abdomen, flicking your jeans open with hurried movements. He pauses long enough to cup your mound, the heat of your body making him groan low in his throat.

“Fuckin’ hell love”

His voice has slipped down an octave, desire making his cheeks and chest flush under his dark hair. Your body has a pavlovian response to his, anticipation spiralling through your limbs. When his fingers curl in your jeans and panties, you lift up automatically, using his thighs to balance as he tugs the clothing free of your body.

He’s back on you as soon as the clothing leaves his hand, fingers tracing up your calves and thighs, making room for himself between them while his mouth blazes a trail over your ribs to the delicate underside of your breast. His whiskers dragging across your skin make you gasp and twitch, the tableware clinking together by your head with each sudden movement. When the wet heat of his mouth closes over your nipple again you moan, fingers pressing into the back of John’s neck to keep him in place. You can feel the backs of his fingers grazing against your low belly as he’s undoing his pants, twisting and pulling something out of his back pocket.

“John, let me.” You try to sit up but he won’t allow it, rasping his teeth over your nipple, making you suck in a breath and squirm underneath him. He releases your flesh with an obscene ‘pop’ and a smug smile slides across his face.

“Too late, next time.” His voice is a rumble, one hand fisted around the condom on the base of his hard cock and the other landing on your chest, keeping you pinned to the table and spread out for his viewing pleasure. The slow back and forth glide of the head of his cock over the seam of your pussy makes you groan and hook your heels into the back of John’s thighs. Your hands curl around his forearm, your nails biting into his flesh as he presses into you slowly, eyes locked on your face.

The heat of John’s palm on your sternum makes you aware of how fast your heart is beating against it. Your rattling moan spurs John on, the rocking thrusts of his hips making the dishes dance by your head. The obscene symphony sends shockwaves of sensation up and down your spine, making you squirm as you clutch at his arm.

John hisses a curse, followed by your name and you can feel the muscles of his arm fluttering under your grip. The world narrows to just the two of you, John rocking you and the contents of the table with his thrusts, gripping your hip to steady you under his body. You can feel your body start to pull taut, your orgasm building in pressure and a whine climbing the back of your throat as your senses start to overwhelm.

John slides his hand off your chest to hunch over you, putting his full weight behind his thrusts. He drops close enough to run his open mouth over your collarbone, panting hot breath against your skin. The increased pressure and change in angle make you clench around him, wrenching a low moan from his chest. The tableware crashes in time with your movements.

“John, please.” You’re begging mindlessly, wrapping your thighs high on his hips, your legs trembling.

“You make me crazy when you say my name like that.” John rumbles into your ear, giving you what you want and sliding his thumb over your clit in small circles. It only takes a handful more thrusts before you’re reaching your peak.

Your orgasm overtakes you and you claw at the back of his neck and shoulder with your nails, desperate to ground yourself. Your keening cry bounces off the walls of the kitchen as your body clamps down on his, bucking underneath him. The throbbing grip of your inner muscles is enough to drag John down with you, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he cums hard, his cock pulsing inside you. He groans deeply, his grip on your body bordering on bruising as you both slowly come down and try to regulate your breathing.

“Holy fuck John” You whimper, aftershocks making you tremble and grab at his arms as he leans back, easing out of your oversensitive flesh with a hiss. His palms are stroking over your body, cataloging the shape of you, soothing both of your nervous systems before stepping back. He disposes of the condom in the trash and is back between your legs, giving orders like he never left.

“Legs around my waist darling. Good girl. Up we go.” He’s gathered you against his chest and is hefting you off the table before you can process. Your brain finally catches up and you clamp your thighs around his waist tighter, your arms slung around his neck, hanging off of him like a burr. You trust him implicitly, doing as you're told, your brain still too gooey to do its own processing.

John checks the lock on your front door before carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. Both of you are too exhausted to give a shit about the state of the kitchen at the moment, curling together in your smaller bed. You try not to focus too hard on how suspiciously tight your chest feels when he spoons you, face buried in your hair with a contented sigh.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @syoddeye @cadotoast

#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #friends to lovers #this work has smut #smut #john price x f!reader #john price #captain price #safe sex #sex positive

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b1ttersuite · 3 months

Note

how would adam in eden treat his first wife reader

Was he an asshole before eve and lilith left him?

HOOOOLY CRAP GUYS. i went down the BIGGEST rabbit hole for this (perks of being sick and having free time)… first request!!!! (AND FEEL FREE TO LEAVE MORE :)) tysm!!! and with all the background research, i cooked !!! (proofread + i tried my best to make this accurate)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

how would adam in eden treat his first wife reader?

was he an asshole before eve and lilith left him?

(no warnings, no pronouns used, but suggested you are his wife ^_^)

— in my opinion, lucifer pretty much messed with his whole love life. i think he would be much more chill than he is now. but to try and match his character, he will be a little egoistic.

you were adam’s first wife, and to him, you meant a lot.

seriously, being the first man on earth he grew to be a bit egotistical. but, you helped tone that down from him.

you knew he thought higher of himself, but you tried to remind him that humans should all be equal.

life was wonderful in eden. after spending time in eden with him, you both realized you were falling deeply in love with each other.

“hey, i think i’m in love with you.”

adam says with a grin, and you can’t help but reply,

“me too.”

and your relationship bloomed from there. he thought you were the most wonderful woman he would ever meet.

and as a few years passed, you became adam’s wife.

he could hardly believe it, considering how dumb he was. you were like a goddess to him. beautiful in every way, even if you didn’t think so. he would always tell you how important you are to him.

you spent days upon days with him, and you would plan various things to do.

one of your favorite activities was spending a day in the warm sun, prancing in meadows and playing in creeks.

adam just adored you, sometimes he got a little embarrassed to participate because of his somewhat ‘manly’ ego, but if you asked him to do anything, no questions, he’d do it right away.

“babe, there’s a bunch of flowers in your hair.”

he says, gently leaning forward to pick some of the succulents out of your hair. you two sat in the meadow, as adam hummed while doing so.

“what happens when we die?”

you say curiously, and adam looks at you wide eyed.

“oh, sweetness, don’t worry ‘bout that, ‘kay?”

you silently nodded, curling close to him. the sun was starting to set.

you two shifted on your backs to look at the stars, and he listened intently as you mumbled about the different constellations.

and soon, he knew when your speech got slower, and your hands stopped pointing up at the sky, you had fallen to slumber. and he follows quickly.

͙͘͡★

and you remained close, in love for years to come.

when it came time for death, you both succumbed.

when you made it to heaven, you were there together.

he was so happy, happy he is able to spend the rest of eternity with you.

extra / if he left you for eve + lillith (angstyyy kinda?)

when you and adam got married, you knew this wouldn’t last forever. you love him, so so much, but you knew he didn’t love you fully.

and that’s just who he was, perhaps. he was always eyeing other women, thinking he was superior to you, and seemed to become a bit short tempered around you.

and that’s when you couldn’t take it anymore. you confronted him, tears in your eyes.

and he left.

left you for eve, left her for lillith.

you knew there was no end to it, but when you became an angel, you saw just how fucked up he was.

he was even worse now, somehow, and you knew it was all his wives fault.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

research/long blabber about adam’s backstory i looked up to understand him further even after rewatching hazbin 4 times… adam’s first wife lilith married lucifer,, lilith and adam fought (as of religious text) demons =sinners and freedom with a life in heaven =exterminations lilith = left and kinda evil? adam =first man earliest of man and kinda worst of man? (according to lol more religious text blah blah blah) uprise because lilliths singing which adam took advantage of? alastor’s master = lillith..(theory i think) OH GOD IM SO CONFUSED anyways. lilith hates subservience (willingness to obey others unquestionably) that’s why she left adam?? adam =toxic masculinity. eve left to eat the apple from lucifer ADAMS EX-wife set lillith up? or what. first human. after his wife’s? he’s EXTRENELY cocky and arrogant in charge of annual extermination of sinners (because of overpopulation) is mean because he thinks it’s hilarious, who’s gonna stop him? adam thinks no one can change, and thinks heaven and hell is a great system. basically abuses his power.. lucifer had a baby with adam’s ex-wife and is indirectly responsible for adam losing out on paradise. adam didn’t eat the fordbifden fruit which is why he acts the way he does? god complex cuz he’s firsy man. lillith was the first woman in hazbin, lilith left because adam thought higher of himself. EVE ATE THE FRUIT of knowledge! i tried to use my brain to the max to make this so I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #fanfiction #tvgirlcore #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x oc

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hotpinkstars · 4 months

Text

-> shenhes reaction to different love languages

synopsis -> how shenhe reacts to different love languages. pretty self-explanatory.

w/c -> 1.5k

-> quality time

as we all know, shenhe is certainly not one who knows love. so when you first introduced the topic of quality time to her, she just kind of cocked her head and looked at you. she was someone who quite literally needed assistance to keep her homicidal nature at bay, and you were someone who could barely harm a flee. why ever would you want quality time with her, she thought? although the both of you are a couple, she won’t ever understand all of that stuff that normal couples do.

it takes a minute or two (more like a couple futile attempts) to get her to open up to spending a lot of time like that with you, but once you get her to maybe get a bite to eat at a cuisine in the harbor, she warms up to the idea a little bit more. she still doesn’t understand why couples like to do this- she was put under the impression of relationships being kissing, hugging, and sleeping together.

soon enough, she’ll be the one to request to do some of these things that you showed her. depending on how much she wants it, you might have to take the hint, or she’ll just blandly tell you directly.

“i would like to grab a meal in liyue harbor like we did last week.”

“shenhe, it’s two in the morning… but as soon as the sun rises, sure!”

well, she’s sure got the spirit!!

-> words of affirmation

the first time you even said something as simple as “i love you so, so much,” this woman kind of just froze and asked you to repeat that.

she doesn’t get it. she probably asked you why people say that at first, and then she got it. she already kind of knew, she just wanted to be sure she heard you right. and that she did. a few minutes after you said that to her she could feel a nice warmth in her chest and a little grin coming onto her face.

even things such as “i love the way you did your braid today!” make her feel so grateful that she was able to date someone such as you. sometimes cloud retainer wonders what's got her in such a good mood these past few months, considering how sour she sometimes can be.

another one she tries to reciprocate once she gets used to it. (spoiler alert: she does it for all of these lol.) she’ll sometimes tell you that you look particularly nice that day. in her eyes, you look glamorous every day, but she saves that for when you two go to a fancy restaurant and you’re all dressed nice.

-> acts of service

acts of service for shenhe seem pointless in her eyes at first. she has learned to take care of herself, why should she need someone else to do the things she does for own good for her? she can make her own bed, she can put toothpaste on her own toothbrush, and she can cook her own meals. so, when she first saw that the bed was all made, the pillows were fluffed, and there was already toothpaste on her toothbrush from when you were last in there, she seemed a little.. shocked? it was very hard to tell what she felt, but she felt, once again, a warmth in her chest. she came out of the room to ask you about it, and saw you making breakfast.

“well, i just decided maybe you’d like it! if you don’t, i can stop…”

“well… i.. really like this.. act of kindness. but i do not know if i understand it yet.”

you laughed and motioned for her to sit down as you served two plates and decided to chat her up a little bit about what you were going to do that day. she ate her food with a small smile, and engaged in the conversation.

sometimes, she’d come home to find little samples of some foods she likes with a little note on the side of the plate saying something like “i made something i picked up on you liking. i hope you enjoy it!”

this was one she decided to take little steps to show. she’d do basics that she didn’t even realize she was doing before, like tidying up the room a little bit or putting the dishes away or folding the blankets. all she knew is that it made you happy to see the house so nice and clean, so she continued to do it whenever she was available to.

-> receiving gifts

talk about something she isn’t all that familiar with.

the first time you put a little trinket in her hands- for instance, a keychain, she just looked at you curiously.

“what is this?”

“oh, nothing really. i just thought it would be cute to dangle from your vision. see, it even matches your hair color!”

she handed it back to you and told you to hook it somewhere on her vision. she looked at it with a mirror and a kamera, smiling gratefully, even though she didn’t think it was all that necessary. she got used to your constant gift giving though, and, once again, didn’t understand what the occasion was, she still cherished them silently. the first time you gifted her something bigger, like maybe a pair of heels, she thought she missed something.

“y/n, what is this for? is there some occasion i am not aware of? it’s not your birthday, or my birthday, or our anniversary… is it maybe a holiday?”

“nope!” you replied. “just saw them on sale in liyue. i bought them because they looked like they matched your style!”

she took another good look at these and put them in the closet. you saw her wear them with her combat outfit a few days later, indirectly trying to show them off to you.

she’ll try and get you gifts too, but she’ll go to the traveler or cloud retainer for help. the traveler has met you a few times, so he/she probably knows what you like just based off of how much shenhe talks about you, and just by your bubbly personality.

paimons always the one bringing the gift idea up to shenhe. if she likes the idea, then the gift will be given to you as early as possible.

-> physical touch

if she’s gonna be starved of any of this, it’s gonna be physical touch. she’s gotten a few pats on the head or shoulder by cloud retainer or her fellow adepti companions whenever she’s done something well, but that’s the extent of it. she has never been tackled to the bed and cuddled before, she’s never really been hugged, and she certainly hasn’t slept in the same bed in a super touchy manner with anyone else before you.

the first time you rolled over to her side of the bed and latched onto her back, sliding your arms around her waist and propping your head on her shoulder, she was understandably stunned. at first, she tried to pull away, but you wouldn’t let her. so, she was stiffer than a board the rest of the night to be careful not to roll on top of you, and immediately brought it up to you in the morning. you told her it’s just what you do, and was always what you did since you were a child- you felt the need to constantly hug something in your sleep, and you decided to hug her. she just slightly nodded, still not understanding, and walked away for a little while to process what happened the night before.

she’ll eventually be much more open to the idea of allowing you to rest on top of her or hugging her, still being fairly stiff. but the first time you asked her to rest her head on your chest, she declined, saying she was “too strong and could potentially cut off your airways if she wasn’t careful.” you brushed that thought off and slightly begged her until she sighed and very slowly let her weight fall onto your body. she genuinely liked the way this made her feel, and continued to do it much more often- when she was sad, upset, stressed, or just felt the need to lay on your chest for a few minutes.

when it came to hand-holding or hugging, she wasn’t opposed. she just made a strict rule that there is no hugging or cuddling in public. you agreed, and only did those things when you both knew that there was privacy. the last thing the both of you wanted was to scare each other off. that would be crushing to both ends.

she was much more open to cuddling and hand holding and all that comes with it later into your relationship- you realized she was a woman who needed an indescribable amount of patience, and that you were willing to give.

#shenhe x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #shenhe #x reader #genshin #genshin x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Note

I have transcended here, so follow my vision:

Jungkook is always taunting the hybe staff that monitors his lives right? What about a fic where he does this because he kinda likes the pretty new IT intern 👉👈 and she is always stressed out working the night shift and wondering is he asleep yet should I end the live? oh no is he about to give a major spoiler, he would not do it right? workout sounds are kinda suspicious and low-key obscene should I "accidentally" end the live?

Hm... warning for like.. jungkook flirting? And suggestive themes lol

Your heart beats faster whenever you get the notification. But not because of the same reasons the fans pulses might race quicker.

No, you personally get palpitations because of him, personally.

You don't even know why he's bitten into you like a stubborn dog like this, not daring to let go, teeth buried deep in your skin. You don't think you're outstandingly pretty, you're not special, you're not even supposed to have any sort of friendly or private contact with him whatsoever. Your job is on the line every time he has his 'fun'. But every time you scold him with that fact, he's got the same answer.

'I've got enough money for both of us, baby.'

You're not sure how the hell the agency has not yet caught onto his games- teasing words never directed at the fans, but you on the other side monitoring- them hearing in on it simply collateral damage. He knows you watch him every time he goes live. Your angry emojis you send him every time he edges on getting inappropriate in front of millions worth it every time, as he has to imagine you angrily scolding him so cutely just like last time you did.

He wonders how long you'll let him toy around with you like this.

He remembers when you ended his live when he fell asleep, calling and ringing his doorbell in panic because of the still burning candle- but when he'd tried to lure you into his claws, offering to have you sleep over at his place since it was late and raining heavily, you'd declined- probably having sensed his actual hidden motive.

You're not easy. And he can't deny that he loves the chase.

At first, it was just fun. He thought if he played it cool and most of all smart enough, you'd eventually cave in- but by now, he's actually become much more personally interested in you. It's not just about what you might feel like all messed up under his hands with his dick balls deep inside you anymore- that's somewhat moved into the background, lust no longer the main reason for his interest.

It's the soft domesticity you offer him here and there, gentle care a man like him can do nothing but fall for.

You're nothing but IT staff, newly hired for your exceptional skills when it comes to recovering data from the most messed up hard drives, and your talent for making sure nothing leaks out where it's not supposed to. You take your job seriously, work with all your soul and energy, always try and do your best even in the most lost-cause-scenarios. But he remembers you restoring almost all of his files after his pc crashed, offering him gentle reassurance and some water to calm him down. And a few weeks later when his tablet was infected with a virus (most likely stemming from the.. not so family friendly he occasionally visits...), you'd simply giggled about it, not making a huge deal out of it, even sharing your homemade food with him in his office while you waited for the new firmware to install.

You cook really well. Not perfect- but perfectly imperfect, just like home cooking is supposed to be. And you're so sweet- it's giving him cavities just thinking of you.

And yeah- you're also called his 'babysitter' whenever he's live randomly at night, since you yourself can't sleep all that much. He wonders if it's insomnia, or another health issue. He wonders if he could do something to help you sleep at night.

He wonders if you'd hold onto him when asleep. He wonders if you like holding hands.

He's asked you these things privately often, at first just to tease, but these days he means those questions. He wants to know more about you, about who you are apart from your job, but you take your role in the company pretty seriously it seems like. You never break your contract, always remind him that you're not allowed to either answer his questions, or have any private contact at all.

And he hates it. He hates that you're so goddamn nice, never daring to break any rules.

"Hm? Ah yes, it's late.." he comments at the chat flowing with thousands of messages, not truly paying attention to them. "Its late, I can't sleep~" He hums, leaning back against his couch, sighing. "Maybe I should eat? I'm not on a diet right now.." he wonders to himself, picking at his new piercing. "..maybe. Would you eat with me?" He wonders, and on the other side of the live, in your office chair, you want to hit your head on your keyboard.

He knows exactly what he's doing. You want to punch that dumb smirk right off his face.

"Hm, would you.. I'll make some food, yes." He nods to himself, getting up to take the phone with him, setting it up in his kitchen. "Late night Ramyeon.. yes." He sings, dancing a little as he opens two bowls. "I'll eat two. I've got.. a big appetite." He says, having turned around to look at the chat again- or more so the camera. "And I'll put some sauce in it too. I like it hot, you know?" He giggles, and you on the other side wonder if it would cost you your job if you 'accidentally' cut the connection.

Instead, you send a red-faced angry emoji and a pointing finger as a warning.

And the moment he receives it he brightly grins laughing to himself. Are you watching him from your office at the company building? Or maybe you watch him from home? Possibly in bed? And if so, are you wearing anything? Images of you in nothing but underwear spark in his mind, making him space out as he leans on the kitchen counter, hand playing with his bottom lip. He'd bet half of his wealth you probably wear cute lacy underwear, with bows in the middle.

He could probably rip the frail fabric of your underwear off your pretty body with his bare hands. He knows he's got the strength for it.

"Hm, maybe I can't finish two though?" He wonders as he fills both bowls up with hot water. "But I'll try.." he sings to himself, not a care in the world while you watch, being tortured by the sight of his broad back. It would be a lie to say that he's not attractive- he knows it too, after all, and you're not blind. You're simply just not putting your job on the line for a simple affair- you won't be used like that.

You've been through that before. You can't do this again.

The rest of his live is uneventful, he doesn't actually eat any of his food, ends the live with the excuse that he's tired after all, and you're finally falling head first in your lap before your phone rings. Accepting it, you don't answer, but his voice on the other end does.

"If you come over now, it'll still be hot when you're here." He chuckles, and you know he refers to the instant food he'd made.

"Jungkook-ssi, I can't do that.!" You groan.

"Why not?" He wonders almost innocently. "Its not like people will know." He tells you.

"I'm not putting my job on the line for.. an affair." You decline. "You might have your fun, but I'll have to deal with the consequences later." You say, and for a moment, there's no sound, before he sighs.

"You know.." he starts, sitting down on a chair at his kitchen table. "..weeks prior I would've given up at this point. Would've told you 'alright, cool' and then let it go, you know?" He tells you, one hand supporting his head while his phone lays on the table. "But I honestly don't wanna just.. have an affair, as you call it."

"Oh?" You scoff. "Jungkook-ssi, I have to end this call. Please refrain from-"

"I want to get to know you." He rushes out. "I.. genuinely want to. I take all of the blame if things go south. I'll make sure you get the best job if Hybe kicks you out, promise." He offers, before he sighs yet again. "Just.. let's just eat ramyon at my place, no strings attached." He asks, and you laugh after a moment, making him grin too.

"Eat ramyeon at your place?" You giggle, and he clicks his tongue.

"You say 'wanna see my cat' these days." He says, and you get up into a sitting position.

"Well, I mean, you were aiming to see a cat, in a way." You attempt to flirt back, and its quiet. "Oh my God sorry, I really shouldn't-"

"No, no-" he laughs. "That was adorable, really." He grins to himself on the other end of the call. "So?"

"I can't." You decline. "I don't have anything else than this job. Please don't make me do this." You say, and he bites his lower lip.

"I meant it." He repeats. "No funny business. Dick stays inside my pants, and I really will make sure to get you a new even better job if someone finds out and gets you fired." He promises.

"How can I trust you?" You ask.

"Have I ever done something to get you into trouble?" He asks, and you think.

"I can think of a few times-" you start, before laughing when he groans out in agony. "The food is cold now anyway." You say.

"I can heat it up." He offers.

"I don't like spicy things." You respond.

"Nothing wrong with being vanilla." He jokes, and you roll your eyes on your side of the call.

"You're such a pervert. What would the fans think?" You scold playfully.

"They love it." He chuckles. "Just like you'll love me."

"Bold claim." You say.

"Just give me a chance." He offers. "One chance to make you fall for me."

"What if you won't fall for me?" You ask.

"Impossible." He hums, voice low as he watches the phone on his table. "Already did."

And you're quiet for a moment, before you sigh.

"I'll bite your hand off if you touch me inappropriately." You threaten, and he laughs.

"And I'll willingly accept my punishment, baby."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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bhaalbaaby · 5 months

Note

Can I absolutely ask about a breeding fic?

Title: Waves Rush Over (3059 words) Pairing: halsin/f!reader Warnings: breeding kink, slight size and scent kink, praise kink, daddy halsin, fluff and smut, pwp A/N: sorry for the delay 🥹 life keeps happening lol hope you like it

Read on AO3!

Halsin's hands are just one feature you like about him. They tell his stories in more ways than his words. There are callouses and scars, scratches, and are heavy as he rests his hand on your waist and thighs when you sit on his lap. His knuckles can be rougher than bark, especially during the cold. You keep a jar of soothing balm near you at all times to help his cracked skin. Halsin stoically smiles as you apply it, nagging him to take better care of his skin. The children also mimic it, some asking you for mini jars so they can give them to Daddy Halsin if they notice his dry skin.

Those hands hold many tiny ones at once throughout the day. When his charges are not playing with Thaniel and Oliver, they find Halsin when he's not busy. While his hands are wisened by his years, his features soften. You notice a month after arriving in the former Shadowlands.

If a child isn't adjusting well, Halsin can sense it. He doesn't make the child feel singled out. You catch it once with a young halfling. He kneels in front of them, speaking soft healing words. You can't imagine the trauma the child has seen as you hear the small sniffles escape the even smaller body. Halsin then engulfs them in a hug, cradling the child until they fall asleep. You don't interrupt as you watch, your heart skipping over itself.

Though you have many children who claim you as their new parent, you could see Halsin holding your baby just like this, just as soft. You sigh as you finally leave the sweet scene. If it doesn't happen right away, you'll be fine. There's always the act of making one.

Halsin knows your body on a molecular level. You wonder if he can read your thoughts when he brings you tea when you're tired, medicine for pain during that time of the month. You notice the times when your hormones are peak that he's friskier. Kisses in the storage closets, his hands exploring your body while you try to cook. Sex happens still but there's never enough time to enjoy it, to indulge like you could before returning to Reithwin. Halsin can feel your frustrations, his little gestures easing some of them.

As you're helping serve dinner, he rests his hand on your waist, distracting as ever. You stand up straighter, the bowl of sweet greens from the garden on your waist. "May I help you, Daddy Halsin?" You ask, feigning annoyance in front of the children who giggle.

The corners of Halsin's lips curl up slightly as he nods. "Let me take over, my heart. I have a special job for you." Your ears prick up, letting him take the bowl from your hands.

He leans closer than he needs to, whispering in your ear. "Go to the kitchen. I'll be there shortly." You do as you're told, mostly wanting to behave for whatever he has planned for you.

Luckily, your wait isn't long. Halsin puts the bowl on the counter, shaking his head. "These children are growing stronger every day. Good thing for us our harvests have been bountiful." He glances over at you through his dark lashes.

You look away, heat creeping around your collar as you nod. "Yes, the land has blessed us. I hope they never want for nothing."

Halsin steps closer, tilting your chin up to him. You forget how big he is sometimes, the way he towers over you. He presses his lips against yours, pulling away when one of the volunteers comes in to get another bowl of food for the children. They snicker as Halsin still holds you in his arms. "Perhaps we should go somewhere more private," Halsin suggests.

You tilt your head to the side, "Wait, you didn't tell me what my job would be." You interject, gripping his leathery tunic.

"Ah, that." He smirks as he glances towards the door. "In all honesty, there isn't any new charge for you. Well, not yet." He clears his throat. "You're in heat."

Your eyebrows shoot up to your forehead at his blunt statement. "In heat? I'm not like an animal, Halsin," You giggle, his hands sliding from your waist to your ass.

"Not the same intensity as a bear, but I can smell it. When you bent over..." He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. "Your smell is intoxicating. I can barely focus, Tav. All I can think of is taking your body and watching you swell." You feel hot prodding on your stomach, proof that Halsin is telling the truth. He can't go back out there in this state.

"Poor bear," You coo as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. He exhales, growling softly. "I need you, Tav. Now," He growls, pawing you closer. Pressure builds between your thighs as you start to ache for him. If he doesn't move you now, he'll be forced to take you to the kitchen. You hope the cooks don't mind the clattering of pots and pans.

Halsin picks you up with ease as he leads you into his private room on the main floor. He sleeps in here when bedtime stories go on forever and the stairs are daunting so he says. You don't mind it as he shuts and locks the door. He barely gives you time alone as he sweeps you up in a passionate kiss, your breathing becoming one. You smell the woodsy musk and mint on his breath as your tongues intertwine. He groans, his arms wrapping around your waist, keeping your body flush against his. You close your eyes as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to keep up as he sways, getting lost in the kiss. You pull away, searching for breath as his lips travel down your neck, his hands searching as if trying to pull you even closer, melt you into him. The kisses continue down your chest as you fumble with your top, trying to free your skin from his lips.

He ignores the attempts as he gets on his knees. He stares up at you, his breathing heavy. "You are beautiful, my love." You laugh softly as you pull your restraints from your body, finally topless. You can't think of anything to say back feeling dizzy.

Halsin buries his face between your thighs, inhaling your arousal. You hold your breath, his face and breath warm. Each inhale causes you to throb more as you swallow hard. He sits back on his knees, smirking as he spreads your legs. You've seeped through your pants, the mark is more obvious as he stares. Without a second thought, he leans forward, his tongue slowly swiping up. Your moan catches in your throat, trying to stay quiet. Halsin continues regardless, his tongue swirling on the darkening spot on your pants. Your legs tremble as he teases you, his hands slipping from your thighs to resting on your ass to keep you standing. You bite your lip, massaging your sensitive nipples. Each tweak makes your hips jolt away from his mouth causing a dissapproving growl from Halsin. He pulls away, his eyes between your pants and your flushed face.

"Do not hold yourself back, my love. You surely aren't down here," He whipsers, as he drags your ruined clothes down. You try your best to kick them off, but they get stuck on your heel. You're grateful Halsin is on his knees as he carefully slips the fabric over your feet, tossing them away. He chuckles, his hazel eyes darken as he drags his fingers over your thighs.

"The thought of you dripping with me is too much to bear." His breathing becomes more pronounced as he speaks, his mouth waters.

"I can't take much more waiting." You say, your senses awakening as your nose pricks.

He doesn't need more encouragement to give in to his temptations. You lean back into the wall as his tongue laps at your folds, his hands keeping your legs firmly apart. You finally audibly moan as you watch him feast, his tongue flicking at your clit. His lips wrap around it, suckling the nerves. Your toes curl as his tongue continues its lithe licks. The sensations are overwhelming as you reach for something other than his hair to grab onto.

He buries his tongue between your folds as you grip his broad shoulders, moaning out as he presses you against the wall. He bobs his head back and forth, his tongue thrusting in and out of your dripping sex. His hands massage your ass as you tremble, feeling so weak each time his tongue enters, swirling around. You can barely say his name, your mouth unable to form words, thoughts barely forming beside the pressure building in your stomach. He glances up at you, his tongue dragging up to your swollen clit.

You curse, your hips jutting against the druid's face. He presses your hips against his hungry mouth as he suckles your clit, groaning as you writhe, trying to move away from the immense pleasure. He removes his mouth, raising his eyebrow as you gaze down at his face, panting as you try to catch your breath in this moment of reprieve.

"You are sweeter than any honey, my heart. Please, sing to me." He says as he guides your hips back to him, his mouth quickly finding your swollen button and making acquaintances as he flicks and swirls his tongue around it.

"I can't take this much longer." You cry out as your legs rest on his shoulders, wrapping around his head. He moans in response, his head rocking up and down as his tongue guides up from your entrance to your clit and back down, his nose pressed against your clit.

You're on the verge of exploding when you feel his thick finger prod at your hole his tongue making its way back to your clit. You gasp as he thrusts in, your stomach tightening. You try to run away again, but his other hand is firm on your backside. His gorgeous eyes glance up at you watching the ecstasy paint your face as he quickens his pace.

He pulls away briefly, licking his lips. "The way you squeeze around my finger... I can only imagine how you'll feel around my cock, accepting my seed." You massage your breasts again, wincing as you rock your hips with his digit, feeling so close.

"Please," You beg, not wanting to come from his mouth and fingers. You crave his cock more than ever.

He smiles as he carefully removes your legs from his shoulders. His hand however doesn't leave between your thighs, his middle finger thrusting inside and claiming your hole for him. You try to squeeze your legs together to minimize the gushing noises that escape to no avail.

He chuckles as he looks down, "Dripping to the floor. You are quite the sight." You glance up at him, pouting that he hasn't fucked you yet. He leans down kissing you breathless. Your head swims as you gain autonomy of your hands, reaching for his breeches and tugging them down. His heavy cock springs out, searching for your heat. You wrap your hands around his girth while his tongue and yours dance. You love how you taste on him, the essence of your arousal only adding to his delicious taste.

He pulls away, growling. His eyes are shut tight. "I must have you now." You wonder if the wall would give if he wild shapes into a bear now, but the thought fades as he picks you up, guiding your hips up to his cock. You wrap your arms around his neck, peppering kisses on his jaw as his hands sink your hips on his thick member. You rest your damp forehead against his jaw as you moan, your breathing ragged. You try not to give into the pleasure right away, your hole quivering as he slowly thrusts inside.

"Oak Father bless me." He moans, his fingers digging into your soft skin as he picks up his pace. You rest back on the wall as you attempt to watch him. His leather tunic is still on, not like he cares. You drag your fingers down his chest, panting. "You're amazing," Halsin moans with a small breathless laugh. He leans closer using the wall as leverage as he picks up his pace, filling you the brim with each thrust. You can't keep your moans down, pleasurable cries escaping your body as your cunt weeps for him.

"Fill me up please, my love. Breed me." You moan, resting your forehead against his. He groans at the statement, smirking as he bounces your body on his cock. "Oh, my heart. I will. Your womb will only know my seed." His mouth sloppily kisses yours, the wet sounds each time his cock fills your hole music to both of your ears. You whimper feeling his balls smack against your ass, his cock pressing deep inside.

His hands wrap around your hips, the extra force of his grip sending pleasure pangs throughout your whole body. You both need this. Your hips seize up as you push his cock out, the knots in your lower stomach too much to bear. He rubs his cock against your slit and cock as you stiffen in his hands, and goosebumps rush from your head to your toes. He chuckles as the orgasm ripples through you. "Such a beautiful sight." He whispers before gathering you up.

He carries you to your bed, the frame sinking as he climbs on top of you, his legs pushing yours up. He runs his hand down your neck to your hips, keeping you still as he slowly thrusts inside. You reach behind your head for the pillow, mewling as his cock claims you. Your mind clouds with only thoughts of him as he continues with his previous pace, pounding you into the bed. The bed is less forgiving, the squeaking and headboard hits against the wall with each thrust. You don't mind the extra noise as your nails dig into the feather-down pillow, fingertips pricked by the calamus.

He leans down, his intoxicating kiss taking over your senses again as he presses against your c-spot. You can feel his cock pulsating with each thrust, his grunts more pronounced. "Ah, I'm so close, my heart."

You whimper as you kiss him in response, your teeth dragging on his bottom lip. "Claim me, my body is yours." You moan as you let go of the pillow. Your hands meet as he presses your wrists down against the bed. He leans up, the headboard erratic as his face contorts, his hips flush with yours as he explodes. The feeling of his emission inside drives you over the edge again, your eyes closed tight as you cry for him.

His nose is stuffy as he breathes through his nose, trying to calm down. He keeps his cock inside of you as he sits back, rubbing your clit. You close your thighs together, his other hand rubbing his shaft. "Every drop belongs to you," He whispers as you clench around his softening member. You sit up on your elbows, rocking your hips against his. He laughs softly, his hand leaving his cock on your waist.

"I'm not as young as I feel." He admits. You roll your eyes as he readjusts, letting you ride him.

"I want every drop," You purr, bouncing your ass against his thighs.

He practically tears his shirt off as he throws it on the floor. "You may have it," Halsin replies, spreading your ass as you ride. "The need to breed you..." He lies back against the bed, spreading his legs slightly to give himself more leverage. You can feel his shaft harden, ready for more as he hits your spot once more.

Your legs tremble as you rock your hips. "I want it. I want to be your breeding whore." You moan as he takes over your pace, thrusting hard into you, his arms wrapping around your torso to hold you down.

You can't handle the immense pleasure that erupts throughout your body, your moans turning into breathless screams. "That's it. Good girl..." Your nostrils flare at the nickname, driving you insane.

"Please, Halsin, fill me." You pant, before biting and sucking his neck.

His growl vibrates in your mouth as he holds his hips against yours for a moment before picking up his speed again. He curses under his breath as his thrusts are more reckless, the familiar pulsing filling your hole as you throb around him, so close to another orgasm. His hand leaves your waist, finding your hair, tugging your face to his. "I love you," He groans, holding your face in place before Mount Halsin erupts again, overwhelming your cunt as his thrusts slow to sharp and precise ones. His moans are better than any song you've ever heard as he coaxes you to orgasm making you join him in a hueless haze.

You roll off him, breathing heavily. He sits up slightly as your legs spread, his seed seeping out. "Such a delicious sight. Had I more energy, I'd pound it back into you. Not one drop wasted." He remarks, ignoring the heat that comes to your cheeks. He leans over, suckling your nipple.

"Halsin," You whimper, your body a live wire. He pulls away with a small pop.

"The night is still young... I will get us some food and we'll dine up in our room."

You raise your eyebrow at the implication. He smiles as he slips off the bed. "We'll need some energy if we are to continue."

"Continue?" You ask coyly as you roll to your side.

He nods. "You will be thoroughly bred tonight, Tav." He grabs his pants and his ripped shirt from the floor. He nods at the door next to the bed. "That door leads to a secret staircase to our bedroom. Do not put anything on. I want you as you are. Just as nature intended."

You giggle as you slowly get off the bed, your legs not quite ready. "Do not keep me waiting." You say with a wink before disappearing up the staircase, excited for what the night will bring.

taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @tragedybunny @astarionsbeloved @thedancingbun @razrogue @celestialomlette @rentheannihilator @rinmoon7

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #nsft #writing #writing requests #asks #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin bg3 #halsin #requests

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