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#familial love……….. who’s that i don’t know her
livwritesstuff · 2 days
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“Steve,” Eddie mutters, “Stop it, you’re staring.”
Steve is staring, eyes fixed on a family sitting in a cluster of seats two rows ahead of them on the commuter rail — a mom and dad with three kids, the oldest no older than ten, the youngest four or five. They’re not too much older than Steve and Eddie’s own kids (who are seven, five, and two), and by the looks of the princess dresses and mouse ears and branded souvenir bags they’re also on their way home from the afternoon Disney on Ice show at the TD Garden.
“That mom,” Steve says, addressing Eddie even though his gaze doesn’t shift away from the unsuspecting targets of his relentless judginess, “is upset because her kids are whining and misbehaving, but they asked for food and she said no, and they said they were bored and she ignored them.”
In Steve’s defense (not that Eddie would actually say any of this to him; he doesn’t need the egging on), his assessment isn’t exactly incorrect. All three of those kids are either colossally melting down or just on the verge of doing so, and both of their parents are mostly ignoring them.
“God, and they’re gonna grow up learning they can’t rely on their parents for help,” Steve continues, “I just...I just don’t get why we had to go through all those evals and interviews and home visits and shit before we were deemed suitable parents when any idiot straight couple can just have a kid with no regulation whatsoever.”
“Steve,” Eddie says through gritted teeth as he glances at their own daughters to make sure they aren’t eavesdropping (they’re not – Moe and Robbie are sitting by the window and playing with the toys they’d gotten to pick out during intermission, and Hazel is halfway to asleep in Steve’s lap), “My love — little pitchers.”
Steve only shrugs, but he does drop the subject for the rest of the train ride.
The universe must hate Eddie (or love Steve) because that family gets off at the same station as them. Hazel is completely sacked out by then, and Steve had taken her while Eddie manned the older two and they’re busy running ahead of him to the car so there’s literally nothing he can do when Steve detours away from them to follow a few yards behind the other family.
When he finally makes his way back over to them, it’s with a gleeful grin on his face.
“I knew it.” Steve says with a gleeful grin, “I knew they had to be shitty parents.”
Eddie eyebrows flew up, because – seriously, the fucking audacity on this guy.
“You know what I always say – you can either be a good parent or have a clean car, and that car was fucking spotless.”
“Steve Harrington.”
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littlestpersimmon · 4 hours
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Heya guys. Sorry for posting this for the billionth time. But maybe if you guys would like to give my posts about patreon a boost it would mean the world to me. I know I post this a lot and I don't take any help I receive for granted. I've only been able to make two new drawings since February. Bc every day I have been working almost 9 hours. I'm sick nearly every other week, my lymph nodes are swollen n I've been feeling incredibly depressed. I am from the global south, in the philippines, government help is near nonexistent. I am the sole caretaker of three disabled people. My mom can not do any housework, she is a full time wheelchair user, she needs care 24/7, insulin, adult diapers and kidneys that are under threat of failing if we don't watch her health, my dad has a chronic heart condition and my sister is autistic with a very low frustration threshold. Both my parents are diabetic, and I am the only person in my family who can work. I currently have three jobs, one in publishing, but I have a morality clause which means the publishing house can take back every single penny I make if I or the author fail to meet certain expectations. Anyway.. I have been working nonstop, my scoliosis is untreated and extremely painful, n for the past few four days I have been rationing a single can of spam and a few potatoes. Would mean the world to me if you guys could pick up a print, or subscribe to my patreon, or reblog any of my old art or send me a tip on ko-fi or anywhere else. Sorry and thank you again. I remake these a lot, but I sincerely don't take any of the help I receive for granted. Thank you again.
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purple-babygirl · 2 days
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don't call me daddy V
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader Word count: 4,660 Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails. Warnings: crying, age regression, fluff, a little angst A/N: i would like to give credits for this part and its idea to🦊nonnie because without her ask there might've not been a fifth part to this story. Having said that, i'm thinking this should be the last part of the story because i am out of scenario your girl is empty. but anyway, please enjoy this one and have a tight hug xx💜💜
~
When they arrived back at her house, she was asleep in the passenger seat.
Bucky didn’t want to wake her up. He knew she barely got any sleep last night because of the mean cough she was suffering from and so he carefully carried her inside without a word.
His heart kept speeding up every time he would remember what she called him after taking her shot as he slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks and tucked her in her bed.
He frankly had no idea what he would do if she was to wake up little and if he was ready to be a good daddy to her. What if he messed up again? He seemed to be a pro at that.
Luckily, when she woke up later that night, she was her big self again and didn’t seem to have any recollection of calling Bucky daddy, or if she did, she didn’t mention it.
Bucky gave her her cough syrup and the rest of the meds, helping her go back to sleep as he presumed his place on the floor by her bed.
In a way he couldn’t explain, even her coughs were more comfort than the silence at his house, and definitely more comfort than his nightmares.
It was 12 days of little sleep, a lot of crying, meds, movies and sleepovers until she was fully cured again, and even though Bucky hated that she was sick, those seemed to have been some of the best days he’s ever gotten to live since he’s come back to himself.
He got to laugh with someone, care for someone, comfort someone and enjoy the company of someone. And not just anyone; it was her.
But something was missing still.
Bucky wanted her to call him daddy. More than anything and from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to deserve that name, that role.
What Bucky had noticed in the days he’d stayed at her place was that she had no family pictures at all.
She had framed pictures of friends, of herself, of Corgi, but none of family members.
It didn’t come as a surprise because she’d mentioned it to him before, and he just knew that if he wanted to be her caregiver, her daddy, Bucky had to prove to her that he was nothing like those who’d hurt her. He had to prove himself worthy of taking care of her; set himself apart from them.
And to do that, he had to know more.
“I see no family pictures anywhere,” Bucky spoke as he helped her plant the new tulips she had in place.
“Yeah, we’re not close.” She shrugged, hand stuttering just the tiniest bit in their movements.
“Can I ask why?”
She sighed, “why?”
“I’m trying to learn from the mistakes of others.”
She laughed, “really?”
“Really.”
Oh, this wasn’t a joke?
“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” She couldn’t understand why he would want to try again when the report was handed and he was let off the hook.
“I want to. I really want to.” Bucky wished his gloved hands weren’t muddy as they were so he could touch her face.
He found himself craving physical contact around her more often than not.
“You finally believe in the power of the program?” She teased, keeping her focus on the flowers she was rooting.
“No, I couldn’t care less about the institution and its programs.”
“Not even Mrs. Morrison?” She joked again.
“I’m serious, doll.”
“Why then?” She dropped the bulbs, deciding to face Bucky.
“I want it because it’s you I’ll be daddy to.”
“They never loved me for who I was.” She answered his previous question and Bucky felt a pang at his chest.
He’s made her feel the same way.
He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her in fear that she might stop.
“I always had to be a certain way, say certain things, act a certain way. Do what we say and then we’ll see if we can love you.”
Bucky might’ve been speechless, but his eyes spoke a million words, begging hers for forgiveness for his ignorant mistakes.
“That’s why it hurt so much when you showed me you didn’t accept the little version of me.”
“I’m so sorry-”
She shook her head, stopping him.
“I’ve been rejected for too long, Bucky, too many times. It took me a good while to finally believe that I was worth loving despite my quirks, ugly parts and possible mistakes. Took too long to teach myself that it didn’t matter if I cried all the time, was too clingy or too talkative; I was still lovable.” She pointed to her chest as she finished her words.
Bucky took his gloves off, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop himself anymore. He had no words, only anger and remorse raging inside his chest.
“It takes you a while to unlearn stuff you’ve been taught your whole life by the people who were supposed to love you the most.” She whispered into his shirt.
“Doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back.
“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, “I appreciate you, Bucky, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to lose everything I’ve built inside me if you decide in the middle of it that you weren’t fully ready to take on such a responsibility. I forgive you. I promise. But I don’t trust you enough to give up full control of myself and my life to you again. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Bucky the option to walk away.
“Don’t be. I understand.” He remained in place.
“Are you gonna disappear now?” She wondered with a sad smile.
“No, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Bucky returned the smile, putting his gloves back on.
She smiled gratefully, “I don’t wanna lose you either. You’re such a great friend. And I owe you forever for taking care of me those past few days.”
“What if I prove myself to you though?” Bucky asked, dipping a tulip bulb in the soil.
“What?” She tilted her head in confusion.
“What if I show you how serious I am about this and prove myself worthy of you?”
“Bucky, you don’t have to do that. I know you have a life, responsibilities-”
“I want to do it. There’s nothing more important to me right now than this. And you.”
“If you’re doing this just because you can’t accept that you failed the program-”
“I swear on my ma’s soul, I want to do this. Because of you, doll. For you and with you.”
The words died on her tongue as she watched his sincere eyes implore hers.
“Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? Please?”
“Okay, Bucky.” She swallowed, “one chance.”
“That’s all I need.” Bucky smiled.
~ After their conversation in the garden, Bucky had to go home.
She was not sick anymore and he didn’t have a reason to stick around. He also didn’t want to push her on the matter of regressing, so, respectful of her boundaries, he left.
His heart was heavy when he entered his empty apartment to nothing and no one. Being alone in here wasn’t something he enjoyed anymore.
It has been 2 days of intense research that Bucky has conducted on age regression and partners in little space when she texted him that night.
“Mr. Barnes, can you please come over?”
He wasn’t particularly happy about the fact that he was Mr. Barnes again, but he certainly was happy that she thought to text him when little. This was an improvement and it counted to Bucky.
“Will be right there, doll.” He texted back, running to his motorcycle.
~
Bucky took in a deep breath before knocking at her door, ready to prove himself a suitable daddy.
She opened with teary eyes, making Bucky’s heart sink.
“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped inside.
“I can’t open the pickle jar and now my hands hurt,” she cried, showing him the insides of her palms and how red they were from trying so hard to twist the cap on the glass jar.
She was indeed a little worried that Bucky might find this stupid, that he might yell at her or get upset because she was crying over something minimal in his eyes.
But that wasn’t the case at all. The man was just thankful that she was alright.
“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed in relief, glad that she wasn’t actually hurt.
Until he remembered that this was a big deal to her. Her hands hurt and she was frustrated because the cap wouldn’t budge.
Moments like these definitely required a daddy.
“I thought Mr. Barnes could help,” she sniffled, her hand wiping under her nose, “metal arm.” She touched his gloved hand.
Bucky chuckled, taking the pickle jar out of her hand, “what if I can do it without the metal arm? What would you give me in return?”
“The biggest pickle?” She offered, wiping her tears away from her eyes, her crying stopping at once.
Bucky laughed at her innocence, “no, I want something else, doll.”
She tilted her head expectantly.
What could Mr. Barnes possibly want? Did he want the whole jar? Would he at least leave her one pickle? She was craving pickles-
“I want you to start calling me Bucky again. No more Mr. Barnes. Can you do that for me, doll?”
Oh, that was something she could do.
“Only if you can open the jar with your not metal hand,” she challenged, her little mind amazed by the idea because look at her hand! It had red marks all over when she tried opening that jar.
“You got it,” Bucky said, easily twisting the cap on the jar open, making her mouth open with it.
“Woah,” she whispered as Bucky handed her the jar with a laugh.
“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiled, watching her chew on a crunchy pickle.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She smiled back, offering him a big pickle.
Bucky’s nerves tingled, knowing he was one step closer to her and his desired title.
~
Moving forward, Bucky learned to distinguish between her big self and little self through texts.
Her little self would always talk about him and herself in third person.
Plus, her big self always needed help with bigger things like needing Bucky to fix her sink or look at her car, knowing he might burn down the city if she went back to asking Adam for help with those things.
Her little self, on the other hand, would need help with the lighter things, the sweeter things. She would call asking for help with Corgi, something too high on a shelf or even just wanting Bucky’s company.
Tonight was one of those nights.
It was thundering more than usual and Bucky had wanted to go and be with her, but he didn’t want to invade her privacy.
But then she called and her scared voice saying his name had Bucky moving even before she uttered the words.
He was proud that she now knew that he was just only one call away; that he would come running whenever she needed. She could finally count on him to be there for her and he couldn’t be more contented.
He knew that consistency was important in relationships, especially one where she was little.
“Hey, doll, it’s okay. It’s just a little thunder,” Bucky cooed, rubbing her back as she let him inside.
“I’m not scared anymore now that Bucky is here.” She smiled, her breathing visibly slowing down.
“Well, I’m staying the night so you have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, following her to the bedroom.
“Bucky covered his motorcycle?” she asked, worried his vehicle would get ruined.
“Leave that for now, we’ll hose it down together tomorrow when it’s sunny.”
“Corgi loves the hose,” she spoke out the first thought that came to her mind and Bucky loved it, laughing heartily at her comment.
The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name, jumping at Bucky’s feet as soon as he entered the bedroom, waiting for his share of pets.
He bent down to give the dog some love when he heard her sigh.
“Corgi loves Bucky too.” She smiled shyly, internally wishing her name was Corgi.
“Bucky loves Corgi right back,” Bucky whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.
She only smiled bigger, running to her bed and getting under the covers.
When Bucky got down to sleep on the floor that night, however, she slipped off her bed and right next to him.
“Doll, the floor is too cold for you. Sleep on your bed, come on.” Bucky sat up, wanting to help her up on the bed again but she wouldn’t move.
“Wanna be next to Bucky,” she said with a pout.
“But-”
“I know Bucky can’t sleep on beds. It’s okay. Doll will sleep here,” she told him, squeezing Wolfie in her arms.
Bucky’s heart fluttered and it made his mind light up with an idea only a true daddy would have.
“Do you wanna build a fort?” He suggested and her face instantly beamed with a smile as she nodded.
Of course she did!
That night as Bucky gathered all of her soft blankets to make her a floor mattress inside a fort full of fluffy pillows, he knew he was smitten.
This girl had him head over heels for her and there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do just to see her smile.
“Can Bucky please tell me a story?”
“Sure, doll. Do you have any books I can read to you from?”
“I have books that big me likes but I don’t want those.”
“What would you like then?”
“I want a story that is Bucky’s. Tell me a story you didn’t tell anyone at the institution.”
Oh, she was jealous. The thought made Bucky smile as he pulled the covers up to her neck to make sure she was warm down on the floor.
“Okay, you ready?” Bucky asked, dimming the lights in her room.
She made herself comfortable under the covers, big eyes watching Bucky’s handsome grin as the cozy atmosphere he’s created comforted her through the storm, “ready.”
“Once upon a time, there was a small idiot who picked up fights with boys much bigger than himself. His name was Steve…”
Bucky fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair, watching her soft breaths leave her chest that night without abruptly waking up in the middle of it for the first time in forever.
~
Bucky didn’t know what it was like to be her, but he was going to do his best to put himself in her shoes like she’d previously tried.
She deserved to be fully and entirely understood.
He witnessed a glimpse of her feelings towards the concept of family a couple of times when they would watch movies like The Lion King or Lilo and Stitch.
She didn’t seem to be affected by the death of Mufasa even though he knew her to be a very sensitive little. She was sad for Simba, of course, but not for Mufasa’s demise. Similarly with Lilo and Stitch, she didn’t care much about the concept of the family.
There was an actual barrier separating her from experiencing any positive feelings that came with the idea of family. Because she had none to associate with hers.
With some more research, Bucky managed to find a few animated movies that didn’t seem to revolve around the idea of family love and how family was everything and whatnot.
One of those movies was The Willoughbys. The movie depicted how neglecting some parents can be and that 2 people loving each other and getting married didn’t necessarily mean they would love their children too.
It was a very unique movie and Bucky was actually happy they could make such movies nowadays.
When the song I Choose You started playing in the movie, Bucky felt her small hand squeezing into a fist.
He silently wrapped his hand around hers, offering quiet comfort and support.
He looked down to see tears in her innocent eyes as she showed her feelings for the first time during one of their movie nights.
 “Bucky chooses me?” she croaked, lip trembling as she cried.
“Bucky chooses you, doll. Wholeheartedly.” Bucky reassured, bringing her knuckles to his lips.
“I choose Bucky, too.” She pulled him down by one cheek to leave a kiss on the other.
Bucky froze.
It was the first time she’s kissed him since he applied that cream on her burnt hand back at his house. She did it on her own, too.
“And I choose Corgi,” she said, running her fingers through the hair of the puppy sleeping soundly on her lap.
“That’s right, and Corgi chooses you. Family doesn’t have to be the ones you were born with, doll,” Bucky told her as he wiped her tears away, “you can choose the family you want for yourself”.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him tight, afraid he might not be real and that this moment is all made up.
“You’re welcome, doll.” Bucky kissed the side of her head as they pulled away.
“Can I choose Adam, too?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper as she gauged Bucky’s reaction.
She could actually hear his chest rumble with a low “argh” before he nodded despite himself, making her giggle.
“Don’t worry. I only have one Bucky.” She reassured, slinging her arm around Bucky’s metal one.
One daddy, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She was still scared.
~
Bucky knew that she needed her own independent time alone sometimes even when little, and he would allow her just that, texting throughout the day just to make sure she was okay, reminding her to drink water and take care of herself.
But there was one particularly hard weekend when she felt real down about some of her plants dying as the storm took them out of the ground.
When she opened the door she was clearly disheveled, hair all messy and looking like it hadn’t been brushed all week.
“Hey, doll,” Bucky spoke gently as he closed the door behind him.
She quickly ran into his arms, needing the comfort more than anything, “my plants are dead and Corgi peed on my new carpet and my hair doesn’t smell like shampoo anymore and I’m-”
Damn. She was spiraling. She just slipped out of his hug and on the floor. Oh no.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here now and I got you, okay?” Bucky tried his best to reassure her, getting on his knees before her to look into her eyes.
“Okay,” she hiccupped, nodding even though she wasn’t fully convinced.
“What happened to the plants?” Bucky wanted to handle her concerns one at a time.
“My apple trees were pulled out of place because of the storm,” she started sobbing again as she remembered what had happened to her hard word.
“Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll put them back in place, okay?”
“Really?” She sniffed.
“Really.” Bucky smiled kindly.
“Okay.” She nodded, trying to control her breathing.
“And we’ll throw the new carpet in the washing machine, and keep Corgi in his playpen with pee pads,” Bucky gave her the steps of how the day was going to go, leading her by the hand to where Corgi was.
“Okay.” She nodded again, her tears ceasing.
“And while the carpet is being washed, I’ll help you wash your hair. Does that sound okay?” Bucky asked her permission, wanting to make sure she was completely comfortable.
“Yes.” She was finally smiling again as well.
“Okay, let’s get you in here,” Bucky told the puppy before placing him inside his playpen.
He spread a few sheets on which the dog could pee if needed before collecting the affected mat.
“Let’s take this to the washing machine,” Bucky voiced his movements, wanting to put her at ease as he kept her hand in his and walked with her to the bathroom.
“In you go.” Bucky threw the rug inside the washing machine along with some detergent.
“Now what do we do?” He asked her, wanting to keep her out of her head.
“Wash doll’s hair?” She asked with half a smile.
“That’s right, get in there.” Bucky tilted his head towards the bathtub with a smile.
And for some reason, it was different this time. He didn’t feel all weird seeing her naked. Maybe it was because he knew her better this time and was familiar with her in more ways than one that such intimacy didn’t startle him. He wasn’t sure, but Bucky wasn’t complaining, only grateful as she closed her sweet eyes and trusted him to wash her hair for her.
~
“Alright, show me how it’s done,” Bucky encouraged, instructing her to whip her hair to the front so he could wrap the towel around it.
She did as told with a giggle, dangling her hair before her and letting Bucky wrap it up the best he could.
“Off to the couch.” Bucky chuckled as he watched her skip in her cashmere bathrobe to her couch.
Later after Bucky has brushed her hair for her, he helped her get dressed and they went outside together to replant the fallen apple saplings the wind had knocked down just like he promised.
The smile on her face was new and unmatched as she watched Bucky handle her plants with care.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him close, hardly wanting to let go as they stood in the middle of her garden.
Bucky was now rooted in her heart just like the plants in her gardens were in their soil.
She didn’t think she could be away from him anymore. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whispered timidly as they started walking back to the house.
“What do you want on your piz- what did you say?” Bucky stopped in his tracks.
“I’m hungry.” She bit her lip and looked away quickly, hesitant now that his eyes were on her.
“Before that, doll.” Bucky brought her eyes back to his by her chin.
“D-daddy?”
Bucky smiled a smile that reached his eyes as they lit up with gratitude. He couldn’t believe he was finally hearing that word.
“Daddy’s thinking pizza, doll. Sound okay?”
Her face glowed up with her own smile as she witnessed Bucky, with full commitment, refer to himself as daddy.
She nodded, knowing this was going to be the most delicious pizza she was ever going to eat.
~
“What is daddy thinking?” she asked when she noticed his eyes on her, slipping a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.
“Just thinking about all the things you make me feel, doll.” He smiled, turning his face to kiss her hand before it left his face.
Her face started heating up as she retracted her hand, tingles spreading all over her, “things like what?”
“You make me feel like there’s still good in this world. Like I’m worth patience and kindness and maybe even… love,” Bucky voiced his feelings, eyes dreamy as they watched her pretend to be focused on organizing her stuffies’ seats on the floor.
“You are, daddy,” she replied sincerely, hurting inside that Bucky might doubt this even a little.
“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you, doll.” Bucky’s sigh came out hot from his chest, holding so much regret.
“That’s in the past, daddy. Doll doesn’t think about it no more.” She smiled, her littler hand covering his own lovingly before giving a soothing squeeze.
“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Bucky held her hand up and gave the back of it a noisy kiss.
She laughed, face heating up more at the sweet attention, “no body’s perfect, remember?”
Bucky tried to continue laughing with her but he was still kicking himself for what he did to her during her visit to his house.
“How did you even tolerate me back then, doll? I was the worst.” Bucky covered his face with his hands as he threw his head back, laying on his back on the floor full of shame.
“That’s not true. You just misunderstood me and that happens!” She was quick to defend him, refusing the idea that he would even criticize himself, “daddy is the best.”
“I know, but it still gave me no right to treat you the way I did.” Bucky’s eyes teared up at the memories of his very mean words and actions, “I made you cry a lot.” He struggled to forgive himself for that one.
“Daddy, I forgave you, I swear,” she promised, her hands cradling his full cheeks.
She felt like her heart might stop from sadness if Bucky was to cry right now.
“I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were sincere, holding so much emotion in them that she felt her own begin to fill up with tears.
“Daddy, you don’t need to apologize no more,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back tears.
“You have made me the luckiest man on earth by accepting me as your caregiver, your daddy, and you’ve taught me so much, doll.” Bucky actually started crying, a lot of held-inside feelings coming out at once.
“Daddy.” Her thumb wiped under his eyes gently as she felt her own tears roll down, “don’t say stuff like that”.
“But I need to. Because you did. You taught me unconditional love and acceptance. You taught me what it means to live again. Doll, your patience with my terribleness has taught me that maybe I’m not a hopeless case after all, and that this shell of a man with a metal arm might be capable of things he thought have been wiped from his memory long ago.”
“Daddy, please stop crying,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his chin as her attempts at wiping his tears away have proven to be futile.
“I love you so much, doll. I love you with every old bit of me and if you’ll have me…”
“Daddy?” she raised her head, eyes on Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression.
Could Bucky really be asking what she thought he was asking?
“Doll, I want you to be my baby for more than just a few days. Would you give me that honor? Would you let me be your daddy for real?”
“Daddy, are you sure?” she nervously bit her lip.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything more.” Bucky promised.
She nodded frantically, afraid the offer might disappear if she took too long to respond, “yes.”
“Thank you, doll.” Bucky breathed as he pulled her to him, strong arms engulfing her in a protective hug.
“Daddy will not regret it later?” her eyes watched him, a small hint of doubt still tainting her trust.
“Do you like the moon, doll?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, not understanding the relation between her question and Bucky’s answer.
“You know how our sky only has one moon?”
She nodded.
“My heart is just like that. It can only have one doll no matter how much time passes.”
“Oh.” She sniffled, trying to hold the tears in.
“I love you, doll.” Bucky gave her hair a long kiss.
“I love you, daddy.” She kissed his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him as best as she could, never wanting to be away from him again.
And she wasn’t going to be. Bucky was an idiot who let her go once; never again was he going to make that mistake.
He was blessed with her now and he was going to spend every day of his life proving he was worthy of this blessing.
~
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vlrspace · 2 days
Text
there was never a time where the atmosphere was this thick with tension, gojo thinks, never with you at least.
his slender fingers dug tightly into the leather covered wheel, white brows meeting in the middle of his forehead as his cerulean eyes focus on the road ahead. how comical, of course it’s raining outside, accompanied with purple and white strikes appearing across the sky.
gojo gazes at you from the corner of his eyes, he’s desperately trying to ignore the churn of his heart at the sight of you. soft arms wrapped around your frame, fully embracing yourself and seeking comfort in a pair of arms that aren’t his. streaks of maskara coating the red apples of your cheeks, as you lean your head against the window.
he can’t decide what’s worse; the fact that you haven’t even spoke, let alone look at him ever since you two left or that he can’t find anyone else to blame, but himself.
truly, he hadn’t known about the invitation of his ex girlfriend by his parents. a vicious move on their end, just to taunt you with the thought that gojo could always do better than you.
his ex, who is a true golden girl, the definition of a perfect woman every parent desire their children to be with. however, she was far from the ideal partner, with her cunning and self absorbed nature. sure, she’s beautiful and comes from a wealthy family, like gojo, but she only ever cared about putting up a good show for the world. everything with her were non existent, unlike with you.
gojo is aware of how, unfortunately, his parents aren’t particularly fond of you and frankly, he doesn’t care.
the familiar silhouette of your home is visible in the distance and the white haired male tries to calm down his thoughts, to centralise them about making you stay with him. gojo thinks that it’s ridiculous how tied to you he really feels, how dependent he is on you and in such short time as well. six months were enough to make him obsessed with you, it’s utterly pathetic.
the buzzing of the engine comes to a stop and you get yourself ready to exit the car, but gojo locks the car before you even could reach the handle. the action makes you turn towards him, confused and nervous as you wait for him to talk.
“i’m so sorry” his sentence comes out shaky and breathless, his body wholly facing you, blue gaze never wavering away from yours. “i’m so fucking sorry” his shoulders are shaking, pools of tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.
with quiet sobs, he reaches for you, his hands carefully placing themselves on your waist, softly cradling you closer to him. the action makes your eyes widen, you’ve never seen gojo so vulnerable before. he threw his tie on the backseat the second you two entered the vehicle, along with his suit and his button up is halfway undone.
“you deserve so much better” his words are barely audible between the hiccups, his forehead gently pressing against yours as a hand comes up to wipe your tears away. “so much better than me”
gojo blames himself for the way his parents treated you at the dinner party, you realise, belittling you and throwing snarky remarks in front of everyone when his ex arrived. even though gojo stood up for you and got into an argument with his family, those words still hurt you.
“but i don’t ever want to let you go, you’re my everything. i didn’t know what home felt like till i met you, what love really was. i don’t have to pretend to be someone else when i’m with you and you make me feel whole” the desperation of his voice makes your heart break, you can feel his hold on you a little unsteady. “it’s you that i want, you make feel a better man and i love you so much it makes my heart hurt” he stutters out, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, before pulling away from you.
“i don’t care what they think, i belong with you” your breath hitches in your throat as his words hit you with full force. not only that, but there is no hesitation in his voice and his face is full of seriousness.
“satoru..” you whisper out finally and reach for your seatbelt. swiftly unlocking it, you throw yourself at him, lips pressing against each other feverishly.
your hands curl around his neck, fingers disappearing in his white hair and you feel him wrap around your waist and move you into his lap. gojo’s tongue pushes into your mouth, salvaging every inch he touches. one of his hands cradles your cheek, thumb gently stroking your soft skin and you feel his other hand slowly moving you against him.
you’re the first one to pull away, just barely a few inches between you, gojo’s hips thrusting upwards to meet yours in the middle. both of your breaths are heavy and the atmosphere is now filled with a different type of tension. the sound of rain sounds distant, you can’t seem to care about the on going storm outside anymore. all you care about is gojo, the love of your life.
“i love you so much” your words are whispered against his lips as he leans up to capture yours in a kiss again.
if gojo wasn’t so occupied with you right now, he would laugh at his parents’ poor attempt to break you two apart. he knows his parent finally realised, how much you mean to him and the growing fear within them taken over.
satoru would do anything for you, even if it meant abandoning the great gojo empire just to be with you.
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@/vrlspace, 2024
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sunny44 · 16 hours
Text
Meeting Hazel
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wife&mom!reader
Warnings: hospital, mentions of birth
Summary: Y/n and Charles welcome their second born.
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Finally, the hustle and bustle of the hospital had subsided. After hours of labor, I finally held our little Hazel in my arms. Her angelic face, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, seemed too perfect to be real. I looked at Charles, my husband, who smiled radiantly beside me, his eyes shining with pure admiration and love.
“You did an amazing job, amour.” he murmured, kissing my forehead tenderly. “She’s perfect.”
I smiled, tears of happiness streaming down my face.
“Thank you, Charles. I couldn’t have done it without you.” He smiled. “Literally couldn’t.”
“Very funny.” He gently brushed my forehead. “She’s perfect.”
“She is.” I smiled, looking at her. “But it’s the second time I get pregnant and the second time they look just like you.”
“What can I say, I’m very good at what I do.” He held my hand delicately, his fingers intertwining with mine.
“I’ll always be by your side, Y/n. And now we have our little family complete.”
As we got lost in the emotion of being parents again, a kind nurse gently reminded us that it was time for Charles to go home, take a shower, and rest a bit. He nodded, reluctant to leave our side, but knowing he needed a moment to recharge. But before leaving, he promised to bring Harvé, our three-year-old son, to meet his baby sister.
It was already night, and Charles waited for me to take a shower because I didn’t want to leave her with anyone else, so the nurses helped me in the shower, and after I got out, he said goodbye and left, promising that he and Harvé would be here first thing in the morning.
I went to breastfeed her and held Hazel in my arms, admiring every detail of her little face. She was so small and fragile, and she looked just like Charles.
I was almost certain that she would at least resemble me a little bit, but no, she was his spitting image, just like Harvé is.
Even their eye color was the same.
When Charles returned the next morning with Harvé, my heart filled with joy at seeing them walk through the door. Harve ran up to me, his eyes shining with excitement.
“Mommy! I came to meet Hazel!” he said, trying to climb onto the bed, and Charles lifted him and put him there.
“Be careful buddy. Don’t hug mommy too hard.” He agrees and lies down next to me and hugs me.
I hugged him affectionately, feeling tears welling up in my eyes again.
“She’s here, Harvé. Do you want to meet her?”
He nodded eagerly, his curious eyes fixed on little Hazel in my arms. Charles approached, smiling proudly.
“Harvé, this is your little sister, Hazel.”
he said, holding Harve in his lap so he could see better. “And Hazel, this is your big brother Harvé.”
Harvé looked at Hazel with admiration, his expression softening as he looked at her little face.
“She’s so tiny, daddy.” he observed, gently touching Hazel’s hand. “Does she knows k have Grand-père?”
“You can tell her later when se wakes up.” He nodded.
I smiled, watching the instant bond forming between them.
“Do you want to hold her, Harvé?” I asked, carefully offering Hazel to him.
He nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with excitement. Carefully, he held Hazel in his arms, his expression one of pure happiness. I obviously supported her weight, she was just lying in his arms.
“Hello, Hazel.” he said softly, stroking her face with his finger. “I’m your big brother, Harvé. I’ll always protect you.”
My heart melted at Harvé’s kind words. He was so sweet and gentle, so ready to love his little sister from the moment we told him I was pregnant. I knew they would have a special bond that would last forever.
As he held Hazel carefully, he suddenly remembered something and asked to get off the bed and ran out of the room. He returned shortly after, holding a small stuffed animal in his hands.
“I brought this for you, Hazel.” he said, handing the stuffed animal that Carlos gave him when he was born and he’s giving to his little sister. “It’s my favorite bear, uncle Carlos gave it to me. I hope you like it as much as I do.”
I smiled, touched by the look of pure happiness in Harvé’s eyes as he gifted Hazel.
“Oh sweetheart, thank you so much and I’m sure she’ll love it.” I said, holding his hand gratefully. “And I also gonna help her sleep like it did to you.”
Harvé smiled widely, his eyes shining with joy.
“I love you, mommy. I love you, daddy. I love you, Hazel.” he said, looking at each of us with love and tenderness.
We hugged him affectionately, feeling the love and gratitude flooding our hearts. I knew that from that moment on, our family would be united forever, facing life’s challenges together and celebrating its joys.
As I watched Charles hold Hazel in his arms, Harvé beside him with his stuffed bear, I felt complete. The journey to this point had been long and challenging, but now, with our little family by my side, I knew it had all been worth it. And as I held Charles’s hand and watched our children together, I knew I couldn’t ask for anything more in life.
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Bonus scene!
Y/nleclerc instagram post
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Liked by @charlesleclerc, @maxverstappen, @yourmom and others 293729
Y/nleclerc These past few months have been an emotional rollercoaster, Charles and I welcomed our daughter into the world and we couldn't be happier. Thank you to all our friends, family, and even fans who have given us so much support during this time.
Charles, myself, Harvé and little Hazel are incredibly grateful for everything.
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houserautha · 3 days
Text
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These Destined Ends
Part 2
Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?
Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: he steps on your hand, non-consensual kissing, slapping
A/N: In which you try to stand your ground against Feyd and it just makes him horny
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Palpable tension fills the room. You notice, not happily, the heavy presence of guards. As pale and unmoving as the walls, you wouldn’t have recognized them if not for the subtle hand signals from your mother. Jessica’s fingers twitched in the ancient Atreides language.
Stay on guard, she warns you. You don’t even have to look at her to know what she’s saying — you learned the secretive hand signals before you could even speak. Even just a quick flash of her fingers in your peripheral and you understand.
Will this day end in bloodshed?
The thought rags at you.
“Welcome,” the Baron finally bellows, voice thick and rasping as sand over the dunes of Arrakis. “It is truly an honor to receive you here today.”
Leto nods, ever the diplomat. You’re grateful for his lead and the prowess of his social navigational skills because, at the moment, you’re afraid that you won’t be able to speak. Not in the face of your destiny and certainly not under the severe scrutiny of your betrothed.
The Baron beckons you and your family closer and you swear that you notice Feyd-Rautha lean forward in interest.
“I trust your journey from Arrakis was well,” the Baron says.
Your skin prickles at the mention.
“Certainly. It was a smooth ride. I’m sure you’re familiar, since you’ve taken it recently,” Leto replies coolly.
The Baron snaps, “And will again soon.”
An insurmountable current of hostility perpetuates the room, not visible but impossible to not to notice. The Baron claps his hands together, the sound resonating. “But we aren’t here to discuss space travel, are we? Lady Y/N, step forward so that we may see you.”
The slightest nod of approval from Jessica. Her hand brushes yours as you pass by her.
It’s unknown to you how far you should go but you take several large steps away from your parents until you’re completely vulnerable. You hope no one is able to perceive your nervousness, or the slick state of your palms. You keep them hidden in the folds of your dress.
“Mm, lovely enough,” the Baron remarks. His repulsive gaze travels your form. Not in the way that one might appraise a mate but rather a livestock for purchase. “Excellent hips for birthing.”
You bite your tongue to stifle your retort.
From the shifting of garments behind you, you know the comment has unsettled your parents as well. Your mother warned you that the situation was delicate, that the Harkonnens would wait for the slightest aggression to attack. You do your best to maintain a comprise of neutrality, the cool indifference your mother manages to exude.
“Still an Atreides,” Rabban growls, low enough only for you, the Baron, and na-Baron to hear.
The Baron ignores this. “Well, nephew, won’t you greet your betrothed?”
A small exhale escapes you.
Feyd-Rautha lopes from his position beside the dais to stand before you. His proximity is overwhelming, the sheer size and force of his presence eclipsing all else; his lips have not loosed from their taunting smirk, an infuriating expression you wish to rid him of.
“Hello, betrothed,” he says. His voice, too, rasps against your ears, cool and unbothered.
“Hello,” is all you manage.
In a move that startles you, Feyd-Rautha unsheathes a dagger from his armored uniform. It glints dangerously in the low lighting. Although you can’t see her you hear Jessica cry out in surprise, in objection, and the guards at the perimeter of the throne room coil with anticipation. However, you keep still.
Feyd-Rautha presses the tip of the dagger lightly into your neck, below your ear. His dark gaze flickers down the column of your throat, following the trail of the blade. It’s a strangely sensual act, intimate in ways that disturb you, the fragile balance of trust and power it commands. Feyd-Rautha stops at the dip of your throat, where your heart is beating wildly, directly above the Atreides clasp.
He clicks his tongue. “You won’t be needing this.”
The Harkonnen slices at your cape faster than you can ever react — the garment flutters from your shoulders to the ground. It’s then that you realize he’s cut away the clasp and effectively stripped you of your Atreides title.
The clasp bounces against the polished floor.
Compelled by shock, by pure reflex, you bend down to grab it. Feyd-Rautha’s boot closes down on your hand before you can retrieve the clasp, slamming your palm down over it as he traps your hand against the floor. You gasp in surprise, and pain, the pressure of his booted foot clearly more demonstrative than punishing. For now.
“I told you that you won’t be needing that,” he says, exasperatedly informal. “Stand up.”
Teeth gritting, you squirm beneath his boot, trying desperately to reclaim your hand. “No!” You shout at him. “It is rightfully mine.”
He presses his boot down harder. You squeal.
“You are rightfully mine. And you will do as I say. A wife with a broken hand is still capable of fulfilling her duties.”
Shame burns your face and couples with the disgust taking root in your chest. Feyd-Rautha regards you coolly from above. If you thought you would survive the attempt, you’d snap his leg.
“Fine,” you spit out.
His smooth brow raises. “What?”
“Fine.”
“Louder,” he orders. “I want them all to hear you. Forfeit your Atreides loyalty.”
In the few seconds that you take to consider this, he pushes his entire weight down on your hand. The pain steals away all rational thought as stars appear in your vision. Your breath saws painfully in and out of your lungs. It takes all of your strength to grit out, “I forfeit my Atreides loyalty.”
A bout of protest explodes from Leto and Jessica, and the sound of their disbelief cuts you deep. You collapse onto the ground, clutching your injured hand and watch in horror as Feyd-Rautha stomps on the clasp and shatters it.
Pieces go flying.
There’s a terrible joy in the Baron’s voice: “Enough, nephew. I believe you’ve made your point.”
“That was completely unnecessary —” Leto begins. He quiets as a trio of Harkonnen guards gather not towards him, but you, weapons and lasguns trained on your crumpled form.
A memory emerges from your subconscious, an afternoon in which Leto mentioned that having a child is like having a lasgun pressed to your temple at all times.
His throat bobs with suppressed emotion.
Your parents won’t try anything if it puts you in peril. Even Jessica’s control of The Voice is useless.
“Lady Y/N is now a member of the House Harkonnen. Her husband will do with her what he sees fit,” the Baron declares. “Nephew, have you had quite enough?”
Feyd-Rautha faces his uncle. “For now.”
You tremble beside him. A heady mix of pain and anger boils beneath your skin. The Harkonnen soldiers fall back as the Baron waves a massive hand.
“Take her to her chambers. I’ve had enough.”
You protest, “No! I need to say goodbye to my family!”
A sickening smile spreads on the Baron’s face, and he holds out his arms. “We’re your family now.”
You don’t even get a final glimpse of your parents as the soldiers hoist you to your feet and corner you off from them. The roughness of the guards jostles your injured hand. “Get off me,” you growl, yanking yourself free from their grasps.
The soldiers move to contain you once more but Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Listen to your future Baronness.” You gape at him. The faint hint of a smirk returns on his face, and he steps toward you. “I’ll escort her.”
Then he grabs your injured hand as a tether.
The doors to the throne room slam shut.
Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hand is strong, undoubtedly a reminder of his control. It takes more than a few pulls to dispatch him and, once you do, he whirls on you with a curious, almost bewildered look.
You seethe, “What is wrong with you? How dare you destroy my family pin.”
“You cannot be my wife if you have loyalties elsewhere,” he says, as if the explanation is obvious. “Your loyalties are to me and the House Harkonnen.”
“I decided where my loyalties lay,” you tell him. “And they belong to no one but myself.”
Feyd-Rautha studies you, then huffs.
“I’m being serious,” you hiss.
“I know.” He steps casually toward you, though it’s anything but. Your body tenses. “So am I.”
An indescribable feeling crashes over you, sweeping you nearly off your feet. Everything you’ve heard about him vanishes. In a move that surprises even yourself, you advance on him, close enough to see the glint of glee in his dark eyes. He’s actually enjoying this.
“You have taken everything from me,” you sneer at him. “My home. My family. My name. My future.” You inhale shakily, fighting back a sob. “But you will not take away my allegiance.”
“Do you think that I wanted this?” Feyd-Rautha asks bitterly. “And don’t pretend as if you didn’t just forfeit that allegiance. To me. Have you already forgotten?” He touches your face, much to your chagrin. He crooks one finger under your chin and raises it. “Need I remind you?”
“You’re a monster.”
Feyd-Rautha’s handsome features arrange into what you can only describe as satisfaction. “Yes I am.”
You recoil as the Harkonnen then presses his lips to yours, holding your chin in place to keep you from shying away. It’s brief, almost perfunctory in nature. A passionless, predatory claim.
He pulls away, and the subsequent sound of your slap reverberates through the empty corridor.
Feyd-Rautha clenches his jaw. Your hand stings from the strike, and you hold it at your side in anticipation of a retaliating blow. He rolls his neck. An eternity passes before he turns his attention back to you, pale cheek still reddened by your hand. It pleases you to notice it.
“We’re even now. Wife.”
Feyd-Rautha snatches your hand, which until that moment the pain had been subdued by adrenaline. You wince. He kisses your already mottling knuckles, the sensitive skin of your wrist, never pulling his eyes from yours.
You refuse to react, to acknowledge the flicker of heat ignited low in your belly.
Feyd-Rautha drops your hand then and, as if nothing had happened, turns on his booted heel and starts down the opposite direction. “Come, wife. It’s time I show you our quarters.”
Part 3
Tags:
@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle
201 notes · View notes
beenbaanbuun · 2 days
Text
mothers w/ mingi
words - kind of short
genres - fluff
warnings - shaving, bad relationships with family, bad relationships with food, body issues, inherited insecurity, mingi is a precarious baby
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“do you think your ball trimmer will shave legs?” you turn and look at mingi who’s lay innocently on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. that is until your words sink in and his gaze shoots up to where you stand with the small contraption in hand.
“i guess so,” he shrugs as he turns his phone off and puts it straight down. you ignore the way his eyes furrow as you turn it on and inspect the blades close up. you don’t know how close the shave would be, but you guess in desperate times, that doesn’t really matter. at this point, any shave will do.
you switch it off again and nod to yourself, placing it on the dresser before going through your drawers to grab your other things ready for a shower. you pick up a plain blue pair of cotton panties that despite not being sexy at all, you’re sure mingi will find an excuse to rip off of you post shower. then you grab your comfiest sports bra that again has one too many holes to be considered sexy. finally you grab one of mingi’s shirts - an oversized one that seems to have taken permanent residence in your pyjama drawer - and begin to head to the bathroom with your boyfriend’s ball trimmer in hand too.
“hang on a second, baby,” he calls out after you, scrambling off the bed and rushing towards you until you’re close enough for him to swaddle in his grasp. arms wrap around your shoulders, pinning you to his chest, “what do you think you’re doing?”
you lean back against him, enjoying the impromptu hug more than you’d care to admit.
“shaving my legs,” you close your eyes as you inhale the familiar peppery smell of his cologne; it’s warm and invades your senses, just like him, “i lost my razor so i need to use this.”
“why are you shaving your legs?” he asks, not quite satisfied with your reply. probably because you’d stopped bothering with that sort of thing pretty soon into the relationship. it’s a lot of effort, and your hair seems to be the last thing on mingi’s mind when he saw your legs. mostly he just thinks about what’s between them and how he’s going to get to it. he hardly even pays notice to the prickly hairs that run up and down your skin.
“we’re going on holiday with my mother,” you grumble in reply, “i have to be prepared.”
ah yes; the monster-in-law…
she’s a lovely lady for the most part, inviting mingi into the family with open arms despite the fact that she obviously wasn’t expecting him when you said you were bringing a boyfriend home. its clear she doesn’t approve of the way he dresses, or the nail varnish that coats his fingertips, but that doesn’t stop her from treating him like her own son. he gets the biggest portions of her home cooked meals and the first pick of desert. she calls him handsome when she sees him wearing something she likes, and compliments his uniqueness whenever he’s wearing something that’s a little more outlandish for her old-fashioned taste. she thinks he’s brave when he colours his hair in an outlandish fashion, and gorgeous when he wears it black. all in all, she’s a pretty lovely woman once you get past the hard shell of her traditional values.
and, of course, if you ignore the way she treats you.
to be honest, mingi is impressed at how resilient you turned out after living with that woman for 18 years. constantly having your self esteem torn down can’t be good for someone’s mental health, and yet you made it out the other side with a relatively normal relationship with your body. you have a healthy relationship with food, if you don’t count the days when mingi has to coax you to eat just a little more, and the days where he’d find you scrutinising yourself in front of a mirror are, for the most part, long gone! sometimes you tell him it’s because of him you feel so comfortable in your body; he refuses to take any of the credit for your own inability to be broken.
in fact, it’s only moments like this that he begins to see cracks in those walls you’ve built up. moments when you know you’ll have to see your mum soon. it’s like alarm bells go off in your mind reminding you that you haven’t quite met her standards yet. eat less because ‘you’ve gained a bit weight recently; you ought to keep an eye on that’. shave your legs because ‘as a woman you shouldn’t have hair on your legs; it’s just not natural’. buy expensive skincare products because ‘acne? at your age? you really should take better care of yourself’. it’s these moments that mingi can see the damage done. that he really has to take care of you.
“you shouldn’t listen to your mum,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and gives you an extra tight squeeze with his gangly arms, “they’re your legs, not hers; you only ever have to do what you want to with your body.”
“i know,” you say, leaning your back into his sturdy chest. he’s so warm and cosy, so reliable and strong. the small smile that rises to your face as he holds you close is involuntary. you guess you’re just so in love that you can help it, “she’s just so hard to be around when i’m not absolutely perfect.”
“well then i don’t see the issue here,” he lets you go for just a few seconds, spinning you around until you’re facing him. once more he encloses you in his grasp, a loose grip around your waist just to keep you close, “you’re already perfect, baby.”
“you’re so cheesy,” you giggle. he laughs too. in that moment nothing matters to you but him.
“it’s not cheesy if it’s the truth,” he bends down and presses a firm kiss to your lips, “perfect, perfect, perfect baby.”
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Text
Good morning Miss Winnie.
Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader.
Rating: Gen.
Summary:
You've just given birth to Dean's baby and are a enjoying a quiet family moment in the days afterwards.
Notes: Non-canon, no time line. And I don't ever want kids. But I just became an aunt and I sort of need to get this out of my system! Short and I'm not promising that I won't continue this. Who knows really. Finally this was written after I'd taken my usual nightly gummy.
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The bunker was quiet first thing in the morning except for the usual hum of the circulation fans. You’d been there so long that they barely registered anymore, and you were extremely thankful that the consistent noise wasn’t a problem for the baby. That would have been a horror show. Trying to navigate parenthood with a baby awoken by the simplest of sounds. 
You shuddered at the thought. 
Life was always loud when you lived with Dean Winchester and his posse of colour characters. Between unexpected visitors and the brothers coming and going at odd hours, there was something new every day and often that new wasn’t good. 
But in that moment things were perfect. The monsters outside didn’t exist and you were a regular mom with a new baby and a husband who loved you. His bother Sam and best friend Castiel were an added bonus, the former serving as an unexpected asset when both you and Dean needed some rest.  
You crept carefully out of bed, your body still feeling weak, and quietly crossed to the crib by the wall. A set of hazel eyes stared up at you and your heart melted. 
“Good morning Miss Winnie.” You cooed, “Let’s get you up and at ‘em before you wake daddy.” 
You heard a small scoff followed by the shuffling of blankets. 
“Winnie?” Dean asked with a sleep-laden voice, “We ain’t calling her Winnie, sweetheart. I’ll accept those new-agey-hippy-names like Kendell and Kloe with a K before I’ll take Winnie.” 
“I’m just calling her that until we choose a name.” You laughed, lifting the little girl up into your arms, her head coming to rest on your chest, “And Winnie is short for Winchester in case you hadn’t pieced that together.” 
“I don’t care if it’s short for ‘daddy’s-little-angel’, it ain’t happening.” 
“I’ll cross that off my list then shall I?” You sat back on the bed, Dean coming up to nest beside you and his eyes immediately going to the baby in your arms. 
He smiled, creases forming at the corners of his eyes. 
“You’re not a Winnie, are ya’ princess?” In that voice he seemed to only have adapted five days ago after the birth of your daughter; that voice reserved for her. 
“Maybe not. What about Meghan?” You suggest. 
“Oh nope. No can do. Knew a Meg once. Demon.” 
You nodded knowingly. No one wanted to name their child after a monster. 
“Stevie?” Dean carried on, his eyes still fixed on the baby.
“Like Stevie Nicks?” You raised an eyebrow. 
“Yeah?” 
“I’m not seeing it. Samatha?”
“Already got one Sam in this bunker and that’s more than enough. Alice?”
“Can’t do it. All I’ll keep hearing is ‘who the fuck is Alice’, and I don’t want my kid to be subjected to that for the rest of their life.” 
You both laughed, interrupted only by the whine building in the little one’s chest. You quickly jumped to action and proceeded to the morning routine you’d been adjusting to since getting back home. Dean followed you, rubbing at his eyes. 
“I don’t think I’ve had hangovers that made me feel quite as bad as waking up five times at night.” He yawned. 
You handed him a dirty diaper and smiled as he grimaced. 
“You can go back to bed if you want. I can manage by myself.” 
“Sweetheart, you just damn near broke your pelvis giving birth to my kid a few days ago. I’m in this from start to finish, and if that means running on caffeine and a prayer, then I’m game. Even for the diapers.” 
Dean rummaged through the first drawer of their dresser and pulled out a small onesie covered in colourful dinosaurs. He held it up in front of him and smiled. 
“It’s hard to believe how small she is, huh?”
“She didn’t feel so small coming out of me.” You quipped, taking the clothing from him to finally cover the squirming child on the changer, “I’m pretty sure my vagina will never be the same.” 
“That’s blasphemy.” Dean gasped playfully, “But seriously, baby, the doctor said that it’ll take a few weeks before you start to feel normal.” 
“Normal is subjective when you’re postpartum.” 
Holding his baby tight to his chest, Dean lent down and kissed you softly on the lips. His green eyes fluttered up to meet yours. 
“Let’s face it, ain’t nothing normal about either of us in the first place.” 
148 notes · View notes
newtonsheffield · 2 days
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while I know all the Bridgersibs are ultimately happy for Anthony (esp now that he’s less of a hardass because he’s distracted by his beautiful wife LOL) I can’t wait to see the look of exasperation on their faces the 1000th time they’ve seen Kanthony giggle and kiss like lovesick teens on a random Tuesday afternoon. I know Eloise is the snarkiest about it at least 😆
Oh they’re super happy for Anthony. There’s such a difference in him after he tried to burn down the entire ton to be with Kate. He’s calmer, he’s more relaxed and they all love Kate. They loved her before it was certain that they’d be married. They love how she rolls her eyes and ignores Anthony. They love how she has no shame in taking a sly little dig at someone who expresses their concern and delight to find her still in England.
“Well, Lord Bridgerton and I have decided that our marriage might work best if I were to stay in England. A distant marriage isn’t suited for us I fear.”
Eloise and Francesca found themselves hiding their laughter behind their hands very poorly as the other woman gaped at Kate who seemed entirely unbothered as she sighed.
“Girls, your mother is expecting us for tea, we’d better be getting along.”
“I think you’re who I’d like to be when I grow up.” Eloise said still laughing as they made their way down the street. “You always seem to be able to get things exactly the way you want them. Anthony told me many times I couldn’t have a dog as he wouldn’t allow one in the house. I found Newton on the sofa the other day.”
Kate scoffed. “I find the trick to dealing with your brother is ignoring him and doing exactly as you mean to any way.”
They love Kate. They love that she gets so involved in their family games, they love her.
But the thing about Kate and Anthony is… they’re also Kate and Anthony.
They’re always tossing one another smiles and looks across the room and they sit after dinner with their heads bowed together giggling at something or other. Some private joke between the two of them.
It gets to be a bit much some time.
“Oh please!” Benedict groaned one night at the dinner table as Anthony grinned at his wife beside him. “No more I beg of you!”
“Yes!” Eloise hissed, “Some of us, are eating.”
“Some of us,” Anthony said easing his eyebrows, “Should be thankful that their brother hasn’t mentioned the articles I found tucked into a book calling for revolution.”
Eloise fell silent but Benedict only tutted, appealing to Kate. “Kate, I love you. You know I do. I would… fight a duel over you with Anthony if I thought you’d have me.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “I doubt that.”
Anthony looked affronted, “Don’t tempt me.”
“If you’ve ever cared for me,” Benedict carried on, “Please, please go and sit at the opposite end of the table.”
Anthony scoffed, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Who are you?!” Benedict hissed, “You used to care about propriety!”
Kate gave Benedict a slow smile, winking at Anthony. “No, darling. Benedict’s right, this isn’t proper.” She turned down the table still smirking. “Violet would you swap with me?”
Violet looked a little wary but stood and took Kate’s seat so Kate was sat at the opposite end of the table from her husband, the entire family between them. She cleared her throat, talking loudly enough that they all had to hear.
“As I was saying, Darling: You look very handsome tonight.”
Anthony grinned as his siblings groaned, “You’re right Benedict. I do prefer this.”
“Yes!” Kate called out, “This is much more proper!”
“Thank you, Benedict.” Eloise sighed, “Thank you for this.”
“This isn’t exactly what I meant, obviously.”
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janaispunk · 17 hours
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no one has to know what we do
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chapter 2 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.
word count: 4.4k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!
a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍
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The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.
It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.
Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.
It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.
You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.
But David — David is refreshing.
He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.
You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.
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He’s not expecting you to reach out.
Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.
Because all he can think about is seeing you again.
It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.
Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.
He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.
Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.
And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.
He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.
Seconds after the first, another text comes through:
[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone
Fuck. Fuck.
His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.
He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.
The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.
His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.
“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.
He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”
“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.
Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.
“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”
His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.
“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.
“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”
You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”
It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.
“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.
You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.
“You don’t like me?”
He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.
The call disconnects with a beep.
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You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.
His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.
“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.
“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”
Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.
“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.
“Probably not.”
You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.
When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.
Have fun last night?
From David, sent five minutes ago.
You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.
Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.
Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.
i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you
His reply comes almost instantly.
Who said you bothered me?
You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.
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Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.
It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.
When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.
You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.
He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.
Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.
You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.
He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.
You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.
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You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.
You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.
After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.
But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.
On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.
Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.
He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.
“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”
“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”
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It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.
He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.
He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.
The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?
“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”
He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.
“Yes. Come on.”
He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.
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He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.
So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.
You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.
He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.
He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.
You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.
“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.
“You want me to take care of you?”
You nod.
“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”
Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.
He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.
“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.
Slap.
“You love this, don’t you?”
“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.
Slap.
“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”
You gasp.
Slap.
“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”
It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.
He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.
He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.
You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.
No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.
He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.
He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.
When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.
“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”
He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.
You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.
One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.
“I thought I told you no begging.”
You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”
He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.
“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”
You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.
“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.
He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.
It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.
He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.
Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.
“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”
You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.
He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.
You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.
Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.
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He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.
“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”
He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.
You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.
“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.
Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.
The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.
When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.
It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.
He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.
Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.
[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.
Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.
It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.
Maybe just one more time.
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thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
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hotvintagepoll · 3 days
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Propaganda
Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!
Priscilla Lane (Arsenic and Old Lace, Saboteur, The Roaring Twenties)— I see Priscilla Lane in Arsenic and Old Lace every year during my Halloween rewatch, and I always love watching her. She had a rubber-face for comedy, while still looking adorable no matter what funny face she’s making. She seems to have had a slightly fuller mouth than was the thin-lipped vogue at the time, and every time she pouts at her forgetful new husband, she looks so gosh-darn kissable that you understand completely why Cary Grant is so wild to get her on the train to Niagra for crazy honeymoon sex. No wonder this movie nearly got Hayes coded for the newlyweds being too hot for each other.
This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]
Joan Crawford:
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I just love women that are very mean.
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she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.
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The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows
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of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles
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Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?
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(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.
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Priscilla Lane:
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empress-simps · 1 day
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for remus, maybe a fic where he has a crush on fem!slytherin reader, and maybe the rest of the gang disapproves (at least initially) because of the silly house rivalry between gryffindor and slytherin? hopefully they’ll warm up to her because she’s actually really sweet and likes remus back, and they see how good for him she is :)
Hi darlingg! Thank you for this request, this is so adorable, and it was so fun to write :) I somehow made it a bit angsty...sorry about that I got carried away. Hope you enjoy! Pictures are from pinterest, credits to the owner!
Beyond The Surface
Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Slytherin! Reader CW: Sirius being dramatic, Remus getting angry, and Language
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He never really planned to fall in love. Remus thinks it would be better if he just lives his life in solitude; away from the confusing and complicated world of romantic relationships.
He doesn’t think anyone should bear the responsibility of having a werewolf boyfriend. Remus wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he even touched a single hair on your body during that time, he desperately tries to convince himself that his friends and their future children will be enough to warm his heart who secretly yearns to have his own family.
‘It’s for the best, they wouldn’t suffer because of me.’ Remus thought, being the selfless person he was. Although, his plans that he so desperately tried to put up all came crumbling down when you came into the picture.
He didn’t think of it much at first. Remus thought it was just a simple crush that would go away in about three days or so. He was completely wrong.
“Remus Lupin, right? I’m Y/n Rosier, we’re assigned partners in potions.”
You sat beside him, beaming a smile that Remus was certain you were a gift for him from the Gods above. Merlin- you were simply breath taking. That was the first time he felt butterflies on his stomach, feeling his cheeks heat up as you offered a handshake.
“N-nice to meet you, Rosier.” He took your soft hands into his rough, and scarred ones. Shaking it as he desperately tries to ignore the sparks that seemed to go off inside him. Your face grimaced as your last name rolled off his tongue.
“Y/n is fine.” Remus nods, noticing your reaction. He was wondering how someone like you managed to survive other annoying Slytherins as your housemates.
“Alright then, Y/n. Call me Remus, yeah?”
That marks the beginning of an unlikely friendship of a Gryffindor half-blood with a Slytherin pure blood.
“Shall we begin?”
“Alright, but you lead. My skills are no good in potion making.” He jokes, making a small chuckle escape your throat. “I am quite aware.” She teases.
Being partnered with him for a Potions project meant that you would often meet up in the library, spending long hours sitting beside each other in silence, flipping page after page as Remus occasionally puts back books but returning with 5 more.
“Remmy, look here.” You pointed, not noticing how Remus blushed at his newfound nickname as he leaned to your seat, placing one arm on the back of your chair, his tall frame nearly engulfing you as he reads the contents of the page you found interesting.
He suddenly pales, his eyes transfixed on the title of the page. “Wolfsbane potion…” He whispers, eyes scanning the page quickly before looking at you. You hummed, flipping into another page to see how to make the said potion.
“Right, I figured we should make this for our project. What do you think? I think Polyjuice potion is a tad bit boring, hm?” She mused, seeking his opinion on the matter.
Remus parted his mouth to speak, yet the words seem to vanish at the back of his throat. You shot him a worried look, “Do you not like it? You could say so, don’t pretend nothing is wrong, Remmy.”
He blinks, trying to compose himself. “Ah, no-nothing’s wrong. It’s just that…”
You raised your eyebrows curiously, urging him to continue. “What? You know someone who’s a werewolf?” She jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere as she lightly elbows him.
“I do.” He chokes out, the confession was unexpected, even to him. Remus doesn’t even know why on Earth he’s about to tell you one of his darkest and deepest secrets. It was probably because of your warm and inviting aura. It’s like you wouldn’t judge anyone based on first impressions, appearance, and what you’ve heard about them until you can see for yourself.
Remus felt like he could trust you, and his instincts are almost never wrong.
“Well, maybe the potion we’ll brew can help them?” You offered a smile.
“It certainly would be of help to me.”
You stilled; your hand that was about to get your quill hovered as you looked at him in shock.
“You’re a werewolf?” You whispered quietly; eyes that were surprised stared into his nervous, amber ones. Remus could only nod, an inkling doubt and regret slowly crept up to him. Did he make the right decision? Was he wrong this time? Would you hold it against him?
Your face turned serious, clasping his hand on the table with yours, you looked at him in the eye. “Your secret is safe with me; I would never tell it to anyone. If it helps, I will even make an unbreakable vow, Remus.”
He widened his eyes, “N-no! It’s alright, I trust you, Y/n.” You visibly relaxed, smiling lightly, squeezing his hand, a soft look was sent his way.
“Thank you for trusting me, Remus. If you’d like, I’ll brew you a supply of wolfsbane from time to time.”
If Remus wasn’t in love before that, he certainly is now.
“Out of all the people you could’ve chose to like it was a Rosier?!” Sirius screeched, a horrified look on his face as he grabbed Remus’s shoulder and looked at him straight in the eyes. The said boy frowned “What about it?”
Sirius blanched, “Are you daft, Moons?” He threw his hands up in the air, looking at the rest of the marauders and Lily, wanting them to side with him. Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line; she does not quite agree with Sirius but there’s still a possibility. It doesn’t help the fact that she is a Slytherin; the house that reeks of cunning pure-blooded wizards.
Peter looked anywhere to just not meet the eyes of Remus, clearly uncomfortable. While James frowned, a troubled look on his face as he clasped Lily’s hand. “The Rosier family… they’re not exactly known for their…,” he started, but Sirius cut him off.
“Rosiers are evil! Slytherins! Pureblood Supremacists! Death Eaters!”
Remus frowns, reading the room and the reactions of his friends. The message was clear without words: none of them supported Remus’s interest in a Slytherin, a Rosier no less.
“Give her a chance, she’s different.” Remus tried to make his friends listen to him. Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes. James sighed, looking at Remus. “Moony, it’s just… We never thought you would fancy a Slytherin.” Remus pursed his lips, “Yeah, I never thought you and Lily would end up together but here we are.” James grimaced at his words.
“There’s tons of girls who fancy you, Moony.” Peter tells him. Remus frowned, feeling annoyance stir inside him. “They’re not her, Wormtail. All I’m saying is that Lily and you blokes should give her a chance before you make assumptions.” He spat, glaring at Sirius before leaving the room.
“Rem? Mon amour, what’s wrong?” She frowns, placing her book down as Remus entered the library, heading straight to her usual place but the window. Remus sighs, shaking his head. He couldn’t possibly tell you what happened, how Sirius thought you were just those pesky Slytherins they pull pranks on.
“They do not like me.” She stated, looking down with a frown as she fiddled with her thumbs.
“Honey, it’s not your fault.”
“I know, amour.”
Remus felt his lips press into a thin line, gently taking your hands in his, trying to stop your nervous habit. “They’re still wrapping their heads around it. They’ll come around, don’t worry about it love.” You sighed shakily, “I hope so.”
Remus traced shapes across the back of her hand, “Anything interesting happened today?”
“Evan and I got into a fight; said I was a blood traitor…” You trailed off, noticing how Remus’s jaw tightened and his stare hardened. “But it was alright, we made up. He just told me to be careful.” To say Remus was surprised was an understatement. “He couldn’t be angry at his twin sister for a long time.” She smiles.
“Black! What the fuck did you do?!” Remus roars, grabbing a fistful of the said boy’s shirt, pushing him against the wall as James tried to pull him off, “Come on, Moons-“
“Don’t bloody touch me, James!” He bellows, pushing off the Potter boy who stumbled away, shock evident in his features. Peter quickly got up from his bed, “Moony, why are you so angry? What did he do?” He drops shoves Sirius off as he stared at his friends.
“It was you guys who pulled a prank on her right? “Remus’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, pointedly looking at Sirius. “Well congratulations, she’s being treated by Madame Pomfrey right now.”
Sirius felt shame and guilt ate him up. The prank was never supposed to go that far.
“Ever wondered why I was suddenly so calm during the full moon? It’s all thanks to her. She makes me batches of wolfsbane potion every month, without fail.”
James choked, “You told her?”
“I did”
“What if she tells everyone?” Peter frowns, concerned for Remus.
“If she wanted to, then the whole school would’ve already known, she even suggested an unbreakable vow.” Remus uttered out, sitting at his bed, looking away from them “Some kind of friends you guys are. I care about her, and if you hurt her, you hurt me too.”
Sirius cautiously approached him, “Moons, I’m sorry.” He began. James placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know, we’re knobheads. Sorry, Moony.” Peter nods, “We messed up, it won’t happen again.”
“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to her.”
“We will, Moony.”
An hour has passed after you got treated by Madame Pomfrey, you wanted to leave as you already felt alright but she insisted you stay for an hour or two just so she could monitor you. Having no choice but to oblige.
“Love?” Your ears perked up, the sound of Remus’ voice calling out to you. You turned and smiled at his direction, although suddenly dropping it as you saw the rest of the Marauders and Lily following him.
Trying to alleviate the awkward atmosphere, Sirius pulls out a bouquet of flowers. “Remus told us you like Tulips…” You were about to take it but stopped, James seemed to notice this. “It’s not jinxed, or anything like that.” You bit your lip, silently looking at Remus as if asking was it safe, he nods. “I was there when they picked it out love.” You finally took the bouquet, nodding gratefully. “Thank you.”
“We wanted to say we were sorry.” James started; Lily nodded. “It was quite shameful that we made such accusations and judged you before even getting to know you.”
“I’m sorry, Y/n. We…we were just looking out for Moony.” Sirius sighed; shame visible in his features.
“I understand, I probably would have done the same. I’d also look out for the people I care about.” You softly replied. “It’s okay, I forgive all of you.” You looked at them.
James stepped forward, “We hope you can give us a chance to make it up to you.” Sirius cleared his throat, “And maybe, if you’re up for it, join us for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?” His attempt at a smile was hopeful.
Your lips curved into a genuine smile, your body slowly becoming relaxed. “I’d like that,”
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janeyseymour · 5 hours
Text
Love Thy Neighbor- pt 12
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11.
Summary: What happens after Melissa catches you kissing your ex-husband?
WC: 2.65k
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Melissa comes in just as Jared plants his lips on yours. You push him away weakly, your stomach absolutely killing you as you do so.
“What the fuck?” your girlfriend rages. There’s a fire in her eyes that you’ve only seen a few other times, and they’ve never been directed at you. It’s… terrifying to say the least. Jared just looks smug as he looks to her.
“What? Babe, did you not tell Melissa that the two of you were through and we were back together?” he asks, feigning confusion- although it’s very clear to both you and Melissa that he knows exactly what he’s saying and doing.
“Mel, it- it isn’t what it looks like,” you try to tell her, but you know it’s no use. She thinks she knows what she saw.
“Fuck you. Fuck both of you,” she points a finger at the two of you. She turns on her heel and storms out, slamming your front door as she goes. That startles Ellie out of her slumber, and you hear her cries from the living room. Ellie hates loud noises, and she always has- she can’t handle them when she’s just woken up. Across the hall, you can hear Melissa slam her own front door too. Somehow, it shakes your side of the hall again.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” you hiss at your ex-husband as you do your best to rush to your daughter’s side. You collapse on the couch next to her and pull her into your arms as much as you can, peppering kisses to her head in hopes of calming her down.
“Momma! Why did the house shake?!” your little girl whimpers into your chest. “Where’s Mel? I want Mel.”
Jared sets himself down on the couch next to you and has the audacity to try to twist what happened to your daughter. “Melissa isn’t happy that Momma and Daddy are getting back together. I doubt you’ll see much of her again.”
“Jared, I said to get the hell out,” you seethe as you continue to run your fingers through Ellie’s hair. “We are not getting back together, Ellie. And you will continue to see Mel, I promise.” You just hope that you can keep that promise. If you and Melissa are through, you can only hope that the redhead who has wormed her way into your daughter’s heart will continue to be there for Ellie.
“I’m trying to comfort my daughter,” he tells you and continues to gently rub the little girl’s back.
“Jared, if you are not out of this house within the next ten seconds, I swear to God,” you close your eyes and threaten him angrily. 
“What are you going to do, Y/N?” he tells you. “I’m not leaving.”
“Elizabeth, go over to Melissa’s, please,” you say seriously. “She’ll watch you while your father and I talk.”
You’ve never seen your little girl move so fast, and she’s always running around. She sprints out the front door, leaving it open and knocks frantically on your neighbor’s door.
“Mel, please! It’s Ellie!”
The door whips open, and at the tears and the fear in your daughter’s eyes, Melissa scoops up your little girl. She presses a soft kiss to Ellie’s head as your daughter hides her face in the crook of your neighbor’s neck. Melissa glares at you through the opening in your door before turning back into her own living space.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you shout at Jared. “You cheat on me, you leave our family and our life, and then when I’m finally happy again, you come in and ruin it all!”
“I came back to say I was sorry and that I wanted to get back together!” he yells right back at you.
“And I told you very clearly, that I wanted no parts of that! And then you drag our daughter into it?! Jesus Christ, Jared. If I had known that this was the-” you cut yourself off to gasp in pain at the terrible pain on the right side of your abdomen. “If I had know that this was what our lives would turn out to be…”
“Don’t you dare fucking say that,” he hisses at you. “We made Ellie together, and you cannot go and say that you would wish her away.”
“I would never wish my child away- like you did, and for what?! To go sleep with her babysitter!”
“And I realized that I fucked up!”
“No fucking shit!” you scream. “We had the perfect life! The perfect family! And you went and fucked it all up! And now, now that I have the perfect life here with my parents and my little girl and my girlfriend, you find your way back and manage to fuck all of that up too!” That gets the attention of Melissa and Ellie. The redhead hasn’t closed the door to her apartment, and she can hear and see the two of you perfectly from where she holds Ellie close to her on the couch.
“I didn’t fuck anything up! You fucked it all up by moving across the country and being gay!”
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with me loving who I love! What is wrong is that you decided to become a dirty, rotten-” He smacks you clean across the face. You cry out in pain as a hand flies up to your face. But you regain your composure again because the slap across the face pales in comparison to the absolutely searing pain in your stomach. “Get the fuck out of my apartment. And don’t think that I won’t be filing for-”
You get cut off again, but this time it’s by Ellie and Melissa. You hadn’t realized that the redhead had kept her door open and that yours was still ajar. Both of them had just witnessed your ex-husband lay his hands on you.
“Get the fuck away from her,” Melissa seethes. “Get the fuck away from her, or so help me, God.”
Jared stands from his place. “And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”
“Ellie,” you cut in. “Your room, now. Headphones on.”
Your child, for once, doesn’t follow your orders. Instead, she marches herself straight up to your ex-husband. “Don’t hit Momma!”
He, in a fit of rage, raises his hand. Before he can strike her though, Melissa rips him away from the couch. You pull your daughter as close to you as you can, terrified of what might happen. You know Melissa has a temper on her, and you also know that she isn’t one to back down from a bare knuckled fist fight, even against a man as fit as your ex-husband. Luckily, her adrenaline takes over and she’s able to throw him out the door before slamming it shut and locking him out.
She shouts through the door, knowing that he’ll hear her, “I wouldn’t try anything else, asshole!”
He continues to yell and scream about how she has no right to take his child and wife away from him before the redhead reaches for your phone and calls the police.
As Jared continues to shout at you through the door, Melissa turns her attention to you. Your cheek is bright red, and the outline of Jared’s hand is etched into your skin.
“Melissa, I-”
“Don’t,” is all she says before she walks into your kitchen and grabs an ice pack.
“But I-”
“Don’t worry about nothing,” Melissa tells you as she presses it to skin gently. She smirks. “He’s fucked. I got it all on video with my phone set up on the counter in my apartment.”
“Oh my god,” you whisper as you cling to Ellie.
Your little girl is hysterical as she clings to you just as much. “Momma, I didn’t- I didn’t like that. I didn’t- I hated that!”
“I know, I know,” you mumble into her hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Melissa does her best to help soothe your daughter, but nothing really works because watching her father strike her mother and then almost being hit herself has Ellie quite shaken- and with good reason.
Jared is still yelling at all three of you through the door about how this isn’t over- how he’s going to get you and Ellie back. Thankfully, Melissa has the sense to go into Ellie’s room and grab her headphones to help block out the noise. Still, your little girl is more shaken than you’ve seen her before. It feels like forever before the police show up at your door. They cart him away before knocking.
“You’re gonna fucking pay for this!” you hear Jared threaten as they pull him down the hall. You go to stand up to answer it, but your girlfriend gently pushes you back into the cushions with your daughter before going to open it.
“Schemmenti?” the officer asks. “Damn, I should’ve known.”
“I didn’t do nothin’ this time, Jerome,” the redhead smirks before sobering. “I called because that asshole was laying hands on my girlfriend.”
“You two know each other?” you look between the two of them curiously.
“I told you I know guys in almost every department, didn’t I?” Melissa turns to you before inviting the man in blue in. 
The officer take your statement, Melissa’s statement, and Ellie’s statement before they leave with a promise that a restraining order will go through for the three of you against your ex-husband. Ellie shocks everyone in the room by stating that she never wants to see her father again- that she didn’t like the mean side of him and doesn’t want him to hit her.
“I also got in touch with Marco about the child support,” Melissa tells her guy. He nods with a chuckle. The man in blue heads out not much later, leaving you with your girlfriend (you think she’s still your girlfriend) and your daughter.
“Melissa, I-”
“Not right now,” is all she says. “All that matters right now is getting Ellie to calm down, fed, and in bed, and then we can talk, okay?”
You nod. You know she’s right.
“Give me five minutes to go change into my pajamas and grab my phone, and I’ll be back.”
“Promise?”
She just kisses your temple in lieu of an answer before heading across the hall. And she is back in the promised five minutes- it actually only takes her about three to return back to you.
“You started on dinner?” she asks, not quite sure what else to say in the tense air.
“Nothin’s been cooked,” you sigh.
“Pizza it is,” the redhead tells you as she heads into the kitchen. She returns a few seconds later with the heating pad in hand and some Midol to help alleviate your pains. She pulls Ellie into her arms before gesturing for you to lay your head in her lap. You follow her instruction before she hands you the supplies. You smile at her gratefully.
By the time the pizza has come, you’ve fallen asleep and Ellie isn’t hysterical anymore. You wake up with your head on a pillow as opposed to your girlfriend’s lap, and the redhead and daughter are both quietly eating dinner when you look into the kitchen. When you really listen in, you can hear Melissa trying to soothe your daughter’s fears over what happened earlier today.
“Daddy said that he and Momma are getting back together, and that I won’t see you anymore though,” Ellie sighs sadly. “I don’t want you to go… I love you, Mel.”
“El, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I am not leaving you, or your momma, for you to believe me,” the redhead assures your daughter with yet another kiss to her head. “I love you both so much.”
“‘M just scared,” your little girl admits quietly. “I already losed Daddy, but he isn’t my favoritest anymore. I don’t want to lose you Mel. You’re my one of my favoritest people, and I know your Momma’s favoritest too. ”
“I think you take the title of your Momma’s favorite person in the world,” Melissa smiles at your daughter. Then she validates your child’s feelings. “And I understand that you’re scared, but I promise you that I am here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere if I can help it. I don’t wanna lose my two favorite people either.”
Your heart swells at that admission. She still loves you- Jared may not have ruined your relationship after all. You had thought that maybe she was just playing the part for Ellie, but it’s confirmed now in your mind that you aren’t losing Melissa in your life. Deciding now is a good time to make it known that you’re awake, you pull the blanket that had been draped around you with you into the kitchen and kiss both of their heads before settling in your chair. Almost immediately, Ellie is wiggling her way into your arms and holding onto you tightly.
Dinner is quiet and tense, and so is the hour that you all spend on the couch before putting your little girl to bed.
Melissa, as much as she just wants to get your daughter to bed, fully puts herself into character as she reads Ellie’s favorite bedtime story with all of the theatrics that she would usually use- and it feels so good to hear your little girl’s giggles against you, especially after the shit that hit the fan today. But when it comes time to leave Ellie in her room, she doesn’t want any of it.
“Momma, I’m scared,” she whispers as she clutches your shirt desperately. I want you and Mel.”
You can’t blame her for that. So you simply whisk her away and into your own bedroom. Melissa follows, of course she does.
It doesn’t take long for your daughter to fall asleep between you and the redhead, the day’s events exhausting her. And when she starts to snore softly, you know she’s out for the night.
You turn your head to look at Melissa. “Mel, can we talk?”
“Yeah, hun,” the redhead sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry I stormed out. I thought-”
“I know what you thought you saw,” you tell her softly. “And I-” 
“Can you let me get this out?” your girlfriend asks. “I need to get this off my chest.”
“I’m listening,” you promise.
“I’ve been cheated on before too, as you know,” she mumbles. Then she clears her throat. “I thought that you really were getting back with him and that you were just stringing me along… that the reason you didn’t tell me about meeting him at first was because you were planning on getting back with him. And I- Y/N, I’m so sorry. I- I should’ve known, but my emotions and fears got the best of me, and I reacted before I could be rational.”
You reach across your daughter curled up into you and squeeze your girlfriend’s hand gently.
“I understand,” is what you say. “I totally understand. But please… please know that I don’t want him. I only want you. I want to get past all of this drama with him and then just focus on us and the life that we’re building together.”
She smiles at you with warm eyes. “That’s all I want to do too.”
“We’re gonna get through this,” you promise her.
She pushes herself up on her elbows just slightly in order to kiss you gently. “We’re gonna get through this. We’ll get everything with him straightened out, I’ll make sure that you get the child support money, and we’ll start our lives together.”
The next morning, when you wake up with Ellie on top of you snoring softly and Melissa's arms wrapped around you, you know that maybe... just maybe, everything will be okay.
AND THAT FOLKS IS THE END OF THIS SERIES UNLESS SOMEONE GIVES ME REASON TO WRITE MORE :) 🤍
tags: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson
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She's Totally Flirting With You
Summary- Jack gets hit on by a waitress, though he thinks she's just being nice, Paisley and Olive come to your defense to convince Jack she's flirting with him.
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Jack had surprised you, Paisley, Olive, and Hayden with a family date, to a restaurant that the girls loved but was a little too fancy to take them to on a regular basis because even though they were pretty well-behaved, you didn’t want to accidentally become the family with misbehaving kids in a fancy restaurant.
You and Olive sat on one side of the booth, while Jack and Paisley sat on the other, Hayden sitting in a highchair on the side of the table. You could tell immediately that the waitress was flirting with Jack. 
“What can I get you to drink?” She asked Jack first, placing her hand on his shoulder. Jack placed his drink order before she turned her attention to the girls. “And what do you two princesses want?” 
“Daddy, can I get an orange soda?” Paisley asked, Jack nodded.
“Yeah, do you want the same thing Liv?” Jack asked.
“I want strawberry lemonade, please.” Olive said.
“And can we get water for both of them too?” Jack asked and she nodded. She took your drink order before turning her attention back to Jack.
“Anything else I can get you?”
“Can we go ahead and get a side of fries for the kids and let’s go ahead and get a second orange soda, she’ll want it as soon as she sees her sister have it,” Jack said and the waitress laughed.
“Of course, that’s so sweet that you’re thinking ahead,” She said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll be right back with all of that,” She let her hand linger on his shoulder as she walked away. The girls already going back to coloring.
“She’s totally flirting with you,” You said, and Jack laughed softly.
“No, she’s not, she’s just being nice.” Jack said, shrugging it off.
“If you want to call that just being nice, then okay,” You said sarcastically.
“She probably just knows who I am and doesn’t want to say something since I’m with family or something.”
She came back a few minutes later, placing all the drinks down, coming a minute later with the fries.
“I brought a couple extra plates, so they don’t have to share plates, I know I hated sharing when I was little, especially with my siblings,” She laughed softly. You and Jack split the fries between the girls, keeping a couple for Hayden, since he was eight months old you were letting him try different soft foods. “Neither of you look old enough to have three kids, are they all yours?” She asked, trying to make small talk.
“Yeah, they are all ours,” Jack answered, “We’ve been together for nine years, plenty of time to have a couple kids,” He joked.
“Do you guys know what you want to order?” She asked, her demeanor suddenly changing. You all placed your orders before she walked away again.
“Still going to tell me she’s not flirting with you?” You asked and Jack shrugged. “She literally has puppy dog eyes when she looks at you.”
“Well, maybe she’ll stop now that she knows we’re together.”
She came back a few minutes later to check on everything before checking on the table next to you.
“She needs to stop flirting with you Daddy.” Paisley said, loud enough for the waitress to hear. You smirked as you handed Hayden another fry.
“Do you even know what flirting is Paise?” Jack asked and she shook her head.
“No, but if Mommy doesn’t like it, then neither do I. You love Mommy not her,” She said.
“Well, you're right, I do love Mommy,” Jack said in agreement.
“She looks at you like Sadie does when you have food that she wants,” Olive said, taking a bite out of her fry. You and Jack couldn’t help but laugh at Olive’s comment.
“Where did you get that from?” You asked her.
“You say Sadie gives puppy dog eyes when Daddy has food, and you said that she’s giving Daddy puppy dog eyes,” Olive shrugged. Hayden started to get fussy in his highchair, so you took him out while you waited for your food.
“See, even the girls think she’s flirting.”
“Oh, they are just copying what they heard you say.”
“Maybe, but are you going to tell them she’s not and lie to them?” You teased and Jack fake gasped.
“Yeah Daddy, you can’t lie to us, that wouldn’t be nice,” Paisley said.
“Am I being ganged up on by my wife and daughters?” Jack said sarcastically.
“Maybe,” You smirked. “Even Hayden’s on my side, huh?” You asked Hayden and he giggled.
“Okay, okay, maybe I was wrong,” Jack said. “God, I’m screwed when they are teenagers, aren’t I?” 
“You’re the one who wanted eight daughters,” You teased.
Tag list @jackharloww @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @hoodharlow @itsyagirljaz @heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @awhore4moree @harlowslefttoe @twerkforambrose @jackmans-poison @ilovenudy @taniapri @killatravtramp @easternparkway @macey234 @toocriticalharlow @lightsoutstyles @rachxc13 @iknowdatsrightbih @idktbh101 @blossomluvv @middlechild404 @hufflewhore128 @christinabae
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sincerelyrki · 7 hours
Text
MINI SKIRT
↳ eleven : oh fuck
wc : 1759 [say the name?]
warnings : profanity. flirting.
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Your entire body cringed as the door to your apartment opened with an obnoxious creak, eyes closing in defeat as loud footsteps raced towards you.
“Where are you going?” Your mom was the most obvious person in the world, her challenging eyebrow-raising at you as she looked you up and down.
“I’m going to the store, we need more pecans!” You were quick to answer, nodding your head in approval as you silently gave yourself a pat on your back for not stammering.
Usually, your mom wouldn’t question your statement, your love for pecans being a known fact to your entire family. But that wasn’t the case right now, her doubtful mind coming up with her own ideas as she observed your outfit.
“Dressed like that?” You gasped in offence, your left hand coming up to rest on your chest as you stared at her with wide eyes. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” You both looked down at your clothes, you obviously saw nothing wrong with it and continued, “It’s so cute? It’s my favourite skirt too.”
Your mom tutted out loud, rolling her eyes at your innocent expression. “It is cute, but isn’t it too much for just the grocery store?” Relief replaced your blood as it flowed throughout your body, a breath leaving your lungs as your newfound self-doubt faded.
“Mom, I can never be overdressed. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet my soulmate.” You winked at her, a wide smile growing on your face as she giggled in response, nodding her head as she advanced towards you.
“I hope you do, I can’t stand Mrs. Shen always trying to set you up with her son.” She once again rolled her eyes, her delicate hands smoothing out your hair as she scowled at the remembrance of the constant proposals.
“My hair took so long to do, please don’t mess it up!” You whined, trying to hold down your smile as your mom clicked her tongue at you in a warning. “I’ll do what I want, I’m the mom here.”
You both shared one more parting smile before you left the apartment, head nodding at whatever your mom started shouting down the hall toward you. No matter how old you got, she never failed to remind you not to talk to strangers.
You walked with a small skip in your step, hair bouncing behind you as your feet travelled the familiar route. Your head nodded back and forth with the music blasting in your ears, your steps matching the beat.
After your parents' arrival, and a long conversation where you tried your best to convince them that you were, in fact, not imagining things, your mom convinced your dad to turn back on your card.
He was quick to listen to her, but of course, he only did so after making a deal with you. It wasn’t very hard for him to uphold his side, but it was nearly impossible for you.
Due to your busy schedule, which consisted of your classes and late nights spent in your fabric room, it was nearly impossible for you to get a job. You’ve had a few within the past few years, your high school years being filled with long shifts at your night job.
But ever since you’ve attended college, it seemed like an opportunity that was bound to fail. This is why when you agreed straight away, it came as a shock to both your parents.
Your father proposed that he would give you back all privileges of your card, as long as you got a job. He didn’t care what job, or which hours you worked, he didn’t care about anything other than the confirmation that you’d gotten a job.
In return, he’d allow you to choose your own career. Your entire life your parents tried keeping you out of the public’s eye, begging you to keep your face away from all social media outlets.
The students at your school were quick to learn about your association with them but you knew it’d never get further from there. The general public didn’t necessarily come searching for your parents' family, the boundaries being set from a very early age.
They disapproved of your dream from a young age, their desire to keep you safe overpowering any chance of support. Your love for fashion began before you could walk, your chubby hands grabbing whatever shiny thing was in your reach.
You’d spent hours locked in your room as you drew outfit after outfit, fingertips bleeding as the sharp needles poked you through the fabrics woven in your hands.
They knew of your dream long before you did, it was evident from the look in your eyes the second you saw your creations come to life with your creativity.
The spark in your eyes never faded, only brightening with age. Which explains the way your eyes glimmered as the Prada store came into view, pupils dilating as the sunlight reflected through the glass, the pretty purses barely viable.
As soon as you neared the door the headphones from on top of your head made its way around you neck, securing its spot.
The loud, but familiar, bell rang as you opened the door. The staff turned their heads towards you, expressionist lighting up as they recognized you. “Yn! I was surprised when you didn’t come yesterday, I was looking forward to seeing you.” One of the younger employees came running to you, a cute smile on his face.
“I can’t come every day, Sakuya” You teasingly scolded him, a fake pout replacing his smile as he glared at you. His anger didn’t last long as he seemed to remembered something, leaning onto his tippy toes as he mentioned for you to come closer.
“An idol is here!” He whispered excitedly in your ear, small giggles leaving his lips as he watched the way your jaw dropped. “Really?” You whispered back in the same volume, the amused boy in front of you nodding fast in response.
“He’s over by the glasses, he’s been standing there for like ten minutes! It’s like he’s waiting for someone?” You tried to look over the boy's shoulder, a loud sound of panic leaving his lips as he grabbed your shoulders to keep you still.
“Don’t look! What if he sees you and falls in love with you instead of the person he’s waiting to meet?” You laughed at his words, eyes softening as you gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “Then we fall in love!” You walked around him, ignoring the way he gasped at your shameless words.
“Wow, she really just…” The younger boy trailed off in shock, shaking his head as he realized that he should’ve known what you’d respond with. If someone made an article about confidence, Sakuya had no doubt that you’d be the cover.
Jake stood anxiously in front of the glasses, his eyes dancing between random pairs as his hope faded. He’d been here for about thirty minutes, arriving right after their afternoon practice in hopes of seeing you once again.
A quiet cough caused Jake to spin on his heels, his eyes meeting yours as he came face to face with you. “Hey, we seem to have a knack for meeting at the sunglasses, don’t we?” Jake stood silent as you initiated the conversation, your smooth voice melting into velvet as it reached his ears.
You bit your lip to contain yourself as you watched your affect reach Jake, his eyes once again stopping to stare at your skirt. You had purposely picked your favourite one, remembering the way he had reacted to a similar article at your last meeting.
Perhaps it was a bit delusional to assume you’d see him again. But it was a delusion that was proved right the second Sakuya mentioned an idol in their store, your plans falling right into place.
“Jake?” His head snapped up to yours, red blushing across the apples of his cheeks as he nimbly nodded at your words. “I think it’s fate that we met here again. You must know a lot about it, after all, you sing the song.” Jake gave you an amused smile as your words struck adoration deep in his heart, the knowledge of you knowing his music causing an unexpected reaction.
“I think it’s safe to say that I know it best” Jake felt his confidence rise as he saw the way you mirrored his behaviour, “after all, I came here at the same time as you. I must know something.” He held onto the final syllable for a few seconds as his flirtatious words played small violins in your ears, throwing your words back at you.
“I suppose you do, I wouldn’t want to meet anyone else but you.” Jake wasn’t the only one who knew how to flirt, though your experience has been much different than his.
“Oh really?” Jake mused, his shoulder pressing against the jacket rack as he leaned his body to the side, crossing his feet in front of him as his hands did the same at his chest.
“Mhm, even wore my prettiest skirt for you” You did a small courtesy, chest staying lowered as you looked up at him through your lashes. Jake grew shy at your words, his head turning away from yours as he glanced around the almost empty store.
“Really? I should’ve known, you truly do look stunning in it.” Jake stood up straight, his shoulders squaring as he looked down at you with a certain smile. “Let me buy you another to show my thanks”
“Your thanks?” You slyly quirked an eyebrow at him, lips gently gutting out as his words processed in your head.
Jake nodded, his hands tucking into his pockets as he began walking towards the bottom section, “to thank you for blessing me with the sight of the prettiest girl wearing the prettiest skirt.”
it was your cheeks that were now turning red, eyes staring at the taller man’s back as you followed him. Your heels quietly clicked against the ground as you neared him, hand brushing against his as you caught up. “Don’t I deserve more than a thank you? How about…” You trailed off, finger gently tapping against your lip as you pretended to think, “Your number?” you shamelessly smiled up at him, you awaited his response.
Maybe Sakyua was right, you truly did belong on the cover of the confidence magazine.
“I suppose you do deserve more, how about my number and a new skirt?”
“Deal”
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a/n : we have an influencer coming into my work today, i’m lowkey nervous because we have no idea who she is. i don’t think i could even name one canadian influencer?? i work 8hrs today so hopefully she comes during my shift bcuz i’m nosy lol ANYWAYSSS, who’s smoother? jake or yn?
SYNOPSIS ⮕ You know Jake Sim and you love Prada, it was already a perfect combination. You just happened to always be in the same place as him, at the same time. And that place just happened to be the Prada store. It’s not your fault that your Prada collection expands as your interactions grow. Especially not considering that Jake couldn’t stop himself from fawning over you (and your mini skirts).
taglist is OPEN ! send an ask or comment to be added xoxo
taglist one (1) : @vousty @iheartjayke @kgneptun @woninluv @memooooca @rosas-in-the-garden @thea-herondale @letters2won @certified-ni-ki-lover @addictedtohobi @wonpoem @eunbiland @hae-luvr @t00miee @bbangricz @tytrackfebreze @cafeyuns @aerivrs @seunnimg @enhytan @enhaz1 @neocockthotology @jiawji @miumiuestmoi @sophi-ee @cha0thicpisces @manooffline @glassesyunjin @rinahch @jaklvbucb @rikizm @ilyjxdz @mnxnii @n1k1mura @hhoonsbaby @xiaoderrrr @artstaeh @nikisuar @who-tf-soddhi @jakeslvt @hohohobo @natsukee @fakeuwus @ramenoil @aeminju @lanapaz @seunghancore @heartswonn @jakeyverse @l1lyanah @sunpov @ksgreve @jessicadacollest @h4918ymc @jeongintwt @oldjws @shaniandme | bold = can’t tag
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athforskz · 2 days
Text
Body Worship - Seo Changbin
Masterlist
Pairing: Changbin  x reader (afab) 
wc: ~2.7k
Type: Angst, smut, established relationship
Warnings: Insecurities (body image issues), cursing, mention of online bullying & death threats, crying, tons of kissing, love bites/ marking, sensory play (reader is blindfolded), unprotected piv, use of sex toys, prone bone, aftercare. Let me know if I missed any!
a/n: I don’t care who you are, but every single one of you is beautiful! You better believe it or I’ll send Changbin after you, myself! 😤
Enjoy lovelies!
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It had been weeks since you showed your face to the public or been out of the house for that matter. All you wanted to do was stay home in your cozy bed and sleep. To say you were insecure was an understatement. Your boyfriend, Changbin, hadn’t really minded your increasing tendencies to stay in bed. He figured you were just catching up on some much needed rest. However, when it was creeping up on the third week of you turning down his date ideas he started to get worried. 
“Bunny, you doing okay today?” 
“I’m fine, Binnie.” You sighed from underneath the pile of blankets. 
Changbin let out a frustrated groan. He knew you weren’t fine, but he couldn’t figure out why. He finally had vacation time and all he wanted to do was spend it with you. Take you out to all your favorite places and maybe make some new adventures. 
You, on the other hand, despised the thought of it. Not because you didn’t want to spend quality time with your beloved boyfriend, but because of what his fans and media might think. You and Changbin had started dating a little over two years ago. At first the relationship was kept a secret with only his group members, close friends, and family knowing of your status. But once you both had felt comfortable you guys decided to make your relationship public. For the most part, it went over well with Stays accepting your presence and news outlets making headlines about you dating the K-pop idol. 
Even though the majority of fans and media welcomed you, there were still toxic fans and tabloids that tried to tear you down. Normally, you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, but some of the things you read in news articles or comments fans made chipped away at your confidence bit by bit. It started off with an unflattering photo caught by paparazzi when you and Changbin were headed to the airport, then the comments began rolling in. 
‘Her face looks so uneven’
‘She dresses like a toddler’
‘Changbin could do so much better’
You wanted to ignore it all. Push all the hate aside and continue with the happiness you found in Changbin. But just when you were getting used to the mild negativity, the death threats came. Some crazy fans had found your personal accounts, threatening you to stay away from their Changbin. There had even been a trending tag on Twitter reading ‘Save Binnie from his scrooge girlfriend.’ 
That was your final straw, the final push that had sent you into recluse mode almost three weeks ago. You started nitpicking your looks and facial features. You became hyper aware of every scar and stretch mark on your body. You would stand in the mirror pinching the chub of your stomach or thighs. Everything made you feel disgusted with yourself and the only way to feel any kind of comfort was to hide away. 
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“Come on, you have to talk to me eventually.” Changbin wouldn’t leave you alone.
“Talk about what? There’s nothing wrong…” you lied through your teeth. 
Changbin pulled the duvet from your curled form. You whined trying to grab it back from him. 
“Binnieeee, please just leave me be right now.” 
“Not until you’re honest with me,” he retorted. 
You simply laid there feeling defeated, covering your face with your hands as tears welled at your lash line. He could hear the faint sniffles you were trying to keep quiet. Changbin became increasingly concerned and grabbed your wrists to move them away from your face. 
“Hey, hey baby, why are you crying? Please talk to me. I am begging you.” He was pleading with you. 
“Why are you still with me…?” You averted your eyes, not able to look your boyfriend in the face. 
“What are you talking about? I’m with you because I love you and you make me the happiest man on earth.”
“But I’m nothing more than an ugly fucking scrooge!” You had snapped, tears full on running down your cheeks as you completely turned your face away. 
Bin placed his hands on either side of your cheeks making you look at him. 
“Why are you saying this? Please don’t talk down about yourself, it breaks my heart to see you hurting.” 
“Social media and some of your fans have been saying rude things. But now I see that it’s all true.” You mumbled, halfway hoping he wouldn’t hear you, but he did. 
“None of it is true. You have to stop paying attention to those haters.” He said softly as he rubbed your cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. 
“You’re only saying that..” you tried to pull out of his hold but he kept you close.
“Baby, you are the most gorgeous thing to have ever walked this universe. People are always graced by your beauty when you walk into a room. I am beyond lucky to call you mine and I’ll personally fight anyone who thinks otherwise.” He declared to you.
“So you don’t think I look like the scrooge?” You sniffled.
He chuckled while shaking his head, “course not. You are my beautiful babes.” 
“I- I don’t believe it. I’m sorry.. I just feel so ugly and unworthy of you.” You sobbed again.
Changbin pulled you in close placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before getting off the bed. “Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you. Make you believe it.” He simply stated while walking around the shared bedroom gathering a few items and even lighting a couple of candles. 
For a minute you were confused. How was he going to achieve a seemingly impossible task? You had your mind made up and there was no changing it. Your insecurities were set in stone. 
After Bin had gathered what he was looking for he kneeled on the bed in front of where you were now sat up. 
“Close your eyes f’ me.” He said calmly.
“Bin, I don’t think-“ you tried to resist.
“That wasn’t a request, bunny.” 
You shut your mouth and followed his command, closing your eyes. You could feel some kind of thick silk being wrapped around your head, making sure you couldn’t see anything. 
“What are you doing?” You inquired.
“Shhh, I’m going to be the one asking questions. Understand?” 
“…yes,” you whispered. 
“That’s my girl,” he praised. Changbin ran his fingers through your hair, landing his palm on the crown of your head massaging just the way you liked it. You began to relax, your previous sobbing and sniffles coming to a stop. He then gripped onto the roots of your hair and maneuvered your head to the side so he had easy access to your neck. 
“Can’t believe you’d talk about yourself - my girl - in such a way. You have a wonderful mind and a beautiful body and I intend to worship all of it. Show you exactly what I see.” He placed a kiss on your neck, sucking and biting the flesh which will surely leave a mark. 
“You’re so pretty, so damn pretty.” He murmured with his lips still pressed under your jaw, moving to another spot to mark. Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue lick up the column of your neck. 
Needless to say, you and Bin hadn’t been the most intimate the last few weeks. So every kiss and every touch he gave you made you feel more sensitive. The way his hands caressed down your waist until he reached the hem of your shirt set your skin on fire. He pulled the clothing over your head and tossed it on the floor. You covered your chest with your arms out of reflex, but he stopped you. 
“Don’t hide this gorgeous body from me, sweetheart. I need to see you. I crave you.” He said in an almost animalistic tone. It sent shivers down your spine. Bin placed his hand between your breasts and lightly pushed you down to lay flat on your back. He then slid his hand to the side to cup and squeeze your right breast. “Such beautiful tits you have,” he leaned down to suck on the left. “So squishy and perfect,” he’d say between sucks and licks to your nipples.
You started letting out airy moans at his ministrations on your chest. Changbin came up to place another kiss on your lips before kissing down your sternum and down your stomach. The motions made you tense as you especially hated your abdomen. He sensed the change in your body language and rubbed your sides spending extra time there. His fingertips hooking into the hem of your sweatpants, pulling them down along with your panties. 
“Binnie.. don’t look please.” You started shaking from anxiety. 
“It’s okay, baby. It’s just me. Binnie’s got you, bunny.” He reassured you as he continued his kissing assault on your middle. 
“I especially love your soft tummy. One of my favorite parts of you and the best place to lay my head when we cuddle.” Changbin affirmed. You whined at his declaration, then you felt him go even lower, spreading your legs apart. You wanted to close them so badly but you know he’d just pull them open again. You couldn’t deny that you were dripping with arousal at this point. He landed a kiss on your wet core making you shudder. Then you heard him shuffling for something next to you. You kind of hated not being able to see anything but in a way it made you calmer. 
A few more seconds passed before you felt your boyfriend shift and a cold object was placed directly in your clit. Changbin clicked the device making it come to life. It was your vibrator. The sudden feeling making your body jolt and a whimper escape your lips. You couldn’t see it, but you could practically feel the smirk Bin would most certainly be sporting right now. 
“Now, you don’t get to cum until you admit how beautiful you are. Got it?” He established a rule that he wanted to make sure you understood. 
“Nng I- I can’t!” The vibrations were already drawing you close. 
“Oh you will, bunny.” He said matter of factly.
Changbin kept the little toy in place on your clit as his other hand along with his lips explored every other inch of your body. He chanted how beautiful, gorgeous, and stunning you were like a mantra. You tried to hold your orgasm back as long as you could but he knew you were on the edge by the way your hips bucked. 
“C’mon, say it. Lemme hear ya, honey.” 
Your brain went fuzzy and you just wanted to cum so bad. “M’ pretty! Fuck, s’ pretty!” You called out. 
“Good girl, that’s right baby. Good job,” he praised.
You were panting, trying to catch your breath as he let you calm down from your high. Changbin removed the vibrator from your soaked pussy, tossing it aside. 
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Once your boyfriend felt you were ready he maneuvered you so you were laying on your front, facing your body to the foot end of the bed. He then placed a pillow under your lower tummy to make sure you were comfortable. You could feel him situate himself between your legs behind you, his weight slowly pressing onto your back. You felt a light tug to the silk ribbon he had tied around your eyes some time ago. It fell away, allowing you to see again. You blinked a few times to adjust to the lighting. When your eyes focused you could see he had moved you so you could see yourself in the mirror that was placed at the opposite side of the room. You immediately hid your face in the mattress, not wanting to bear witness to the reflection in front of you.
“Don’t look away, bun. Wan’ you to see how absolutely ethereal you look when we fuck.” He nipped at your ear before reaching a hand around to the front of you to grab under your jaw and lift your head. In your haste to hideaway you hadn’t noticed that Changbin was naked on top of you. You wondered how you could feel his cock throbbing so clearly on your thigh. 
“Don’t wanna look,” you whined while locking eyes with him through the mirror. 
“But you just have to see what I see when you cum. You look so pretty when you cum, baby.” You knew there was no protesting, so you simply nodded. 
Changbin lifted his hips slightly so he could line his cock up with your entrance that was currently clenching around nothing. He sank into you slowly, allowing you to adjust. Bin’s cock was thick and the stretch always burned deliciously when he first entered. You let out a breathy moan as he started to grind his hips into your core. The sound of skin smacking as he bounced off your ass. 
He could see your eyes glaze over with lust as pleasure overtook you. You kept your gaze on the mirror as your boyfriend fucked into you mercilessly from behind. “Yeah, that’s it, babe. So fucking gorgeous, my girl- ah,” he landed a harsh slap to your rear making the skin ripple. You let out a squeak between the string of moans falling from your lips. 
Binnie leaned down placing kisses on your back and shoulders, occasionally biting to leave his mark. He’d look up every few thrusts to make sure you were still watching yourself and at one point he saw the position of your eyes shift. You had siren eyes and your moans became more throaty, indicating to him that you were definitely into it. Into checking yourself out which is exactly what he wanted. 
Suddenly, Changbin reached around to grip your neck and pull you up against his chest. Making you both kneel while his other arm wrapped across your waist. His cock reached deeper this way and hit that spot that drove you wild. The knot in your core threatened to snap with every harsh pump of his dick. 
“M’ gonna cum! B-bin please!” You screamed while looking up at the ceiling, your vision becoming blurry. 
Changbin redirected your gaze to the mirror again as he felt your body spasming from your release. 
“Mm fuck look how gorgeous y’ look cummin’ on my cock like that,” he said between grunts as his own high washed over him. His seed spurting into you in waves. 
“So.. gorgeous,” you repeated as your orgasm finished wracking your body. You couldn’t help but watch how your body glowed after your second release of the night. A thin sheen of sweat adorning your body, almost looking like you were sparkling. You looked positively hot, maybe you could see in yourself what your boyfriend saw. 
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You both stayed like that for a while, connected and calming down from the mind blowing sex. Changbin pulled out after a few more minutes then went to the bathroom to run a hot bath for the both of you. You laid on the bed feeling uncomfortably sticky from the sweat drying. Before you knew it your boyfriend had returned and picked you up bridal style in his strong arms and carried you to the bath. You giggled and kicked your feet at his display of strength. 
“Binnie! I can walk by myself ya know?” 
“I just fucked you senseless and you think you’d be able to walk straight?” He chuckled.
You huffed in response as he gently lowered you into the water. The warmth encapsulating your body. Changbin stepped in to sit behind you and pulled you back so you were laying on his broad chest. He kissed the side of your head and whispered sweet nothings in your ear while lightly tracing the love bites that were bruising on your skin. 
Somehow the marks made you feel even more confident. They were symbols of your loving boyfriend and that in itself was beautiful to you. 
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Likes, comments, and reblogs are always very much appreciated!
Taglist: @doitforbangchan / @jehhskz
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