Hello everyone! I'm Valentina, a 21 year old fanfiction writer, and I want to start taking commissions to earn some money on the side!
I started writing a few years ago, and overtime I've published quite a few fics across wattpad and AO3. My main account now is valwrites, where you can find a couple of my fics.
I'm into a lot of fandoms, but mainly South Park, Formula 1, Sonic the Hedgehog, My Little Pony, K-Pop (BTS and girl groups only), Super Mario, Arcane, Spiderverse, Harry Potter. However, I can definitely write for other fandoms that I'm less into, like FNAF or Steven Universe for example.
If you want me to write you a fic for a fandom I'm not familiar with, I only ask you to provide me with a bit of a background, but I will also do my own research.
What I write:
Fluff
Smut
Angst
Hurt/Comfort
Different tropes like slow-burn, enemies to lovers, you name it
Canon ships
Fanon ships
X reader fics
What I won't write:
Underage
Noncon
Incest
You can find my prices on my ko-fi, but prices are flexible! If you’re low on money but really want a fic, DM me and we’ll work something out.
You can either buy a commission on my ko-fi or text me privately here on Tumblr before making a purchase.
Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs are appreciated <3
Gunwook x Female reader, winter au, dominant gunwook soft reader, sweetheart gunwook, lover gunwook, reader is his girlfriend, reader is suffering in cold lol
Word Count: ~700 words
Author's Note: I tried my best with my exams going on.....i hope its good enough 😭😭
The cold bites at your cheeks as you trudge through the snow, your breath crystallizing in the frigid air. You've been out too long—foolishly long—and now your body is paying the price. Your fingers are numb inside your gloves, your legs heavy and unresponsive beneath layers of clothing that suddenly feel inadequate.
"Come here," Gunwook says softly, his voice cutting through the wind. He's already wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close against his chest. His body radiates heat, and you lean into him instinctively, seeking warmth like a plant seeks sunlight.
Back inside his apartment, he strips away your outer layers with careful hands, his dark eyes tracking your shivering form with concern. The heating is turned up high, but it's not enough. You're still trembling, your core temperature dangerously low.
"Bed," he murmurs, guiding you toward his bedroom. "We need to warm you up."
He wraps you both under the heavy comforter, his body pressed against yours. His skin is warm—almost hot—and you burrow into him, seeking every point of contact. His arms circle you, one hand splayed across your back, the other tangled in your hair. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and strong.
"Better?" he whispers into your hair.
You nod, but you're still shaking. Gunwook shifts, his leg sliding between yours, his thigh pressing against your core. The friction sends a spark of warmth through you that has nothing to do with the cold outside.
"Still cold," you murmur, and you feel him smile against your temple.
"Then let me help," he says, his voice dropping lower, rougher.
His hands begin to move—slowly, deliberately—mapping the landscape of your body. He peels away the last of your clothing, and instead of the shock of cold air, there's only his warmth. His lips find your neck, your collarbone, the soft curve where your shoulder meets your throat. He's gentle but insistent, his touch igniting something deep within you.
"Gunwook," you breathe, and he responds by pulling you closer, his body fitting against yours like they were made for this.
He moves over you, his weight settling between your thighs. His eyes search yours for permission, and when you nod, he enters you slowly, filling you completely. There's no rush—just the deliberate slide of his body into yours, the friction building heat from the inside out.
"You're still so cold," he murmurs, and he begins to move, each thrust generating warmth, each gasp you make echoing his own. His skin is slick with sweat now, his breathing ragged against your neck. Your hands dig into his shoulders, his back, pulling him deeper.
The cold is completely forgotten now. Your body is burning, alive, every nerve ending singing with sensation. Gunwook's pace quickens, his movements becoming less controlled, more urgent. He whispers your name against your skin like a prayer, like a promise.
"Warm now?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.
"Yes," you gasp, and it's true. You're burning from the inside out, consumed by him, by this, by the intensity of his touch and the way he looks at you like you're the only thing that matters.
He pushes deeper, and you meet him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The tension builds, coils tighter, until finally it snaps. You come undone beneath him, your body convulsing with pleasure, and he follows moments later, burying himself deep inside you as he finds his own release.
Afterward, you lie tangled together, his body still draped over yours, his breathing gradually slowing. Outside, the snow continues to fall, the wind howling against the windows. But here, wrapped in his arms, in the warmth of his body and the comfort of his presence, you're safe.
"Warm?" he asks again, this time with a soft smile.
You nod against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his skin. "Very warm."
He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you drift off to sleep in his arms, completely and utterly content.
This was inspired by the song Brag by The Home Team
You’d been his secret for months. Not because he didn’t want to tell anyone, but because Luke Hughes was… complicated. High-profile, always busy, always aware of who was watching. And somehow, you fit into his life perfectly, quietly, like you’d always belonged there—but only when no one else was looking.
Tonight, though, felt different.
He showed up at your door just as the city lights began to flicker on, the streets glowing with a soft, golden hum. His hair was tousled, sleeves rolled up, eyes dark and intense. There was a look in them that made your stomach twist—a mixture of nerves, determination, and something unspoken.
“Hey,” he said, voice low. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” you murmured, stepping aside. Your heart was thudding so loud you were sure he could hear it.
He closed the door behind him, lingering near the threshold. Hands in his pockets, jaw tight, he just… looked at you. And in that look, you could feel the weight of every moment he had kept you hidden, every touch and whisper you’d shared in private, every night spent curled together while the world outside remained oblivious.
“I… I don’t want to keep doing this,” he said finally. His voice was steady, but soft, almost vulnerable. “Keeping you a secret.”
Your chest tightened. “Luke…”
“No,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer, closing the distance between you. “I mean it. I’ve been trying to be careful, trying to protect us—but it’s driving me crazy. I don’t want anyone else’s opinions or judgments to stop me from… from showing everyone how much you mean to me.”
Your fingers reached up instinctively, brushing against his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” you whispered.
He exhaled, a small laugh breaking through the tension, shaking his head. “I was hoping you’d never get tired of waiting.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, warm and grounding. “I’ve been wanting this—wanting you—more than I thought was possible, but I kept thinking I needed to wait for the right time. The right moment. But there’s no right moment. There’s only now.”
You shivered, your chest tightening as his words wrapped around you. “Then… now it is,” you said softly, leaning into him.
Luke’s lips curved into a slow smile, dark and tender, before he pressed his forehead to yours. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Now.”
And then he kissed you.
Not a quick, testing kiss. Not a secretive one. But slow, deliberate, full of all the feelings he’d been holding back: longing, admiration, guilt, and desire. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the intensity in his touch, the careful way he wanted you close but still respected your space, like every motion was a promise.
When he finally pulled back, just enough for a breath, his eyes were soft but smoldering. “I’ve been selfish,” he admitted, voice rough. “Keeping you to myself. Hiding you. Making you feel like this… like it had to stay in the shadows. And I’m sorry. But I can’t anymore. I don’t want to anymore.”
You reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw. “You don’t have to apologize,” you whispered. “I understand why you did it. But… I don’t want to be hidden anymore either.”
His grin was slow, teasing, and utterly devastating. “Good,” he said, stepping closer until the space between you disappeared. “Because from now on… no secrets. No shadows. Only us.”
Your hands found his shoulders, gripping lightly as your bodies aligned. “Then… don’t hold back,” you whispered.
Luke leaned in again, lips tracing yours with soft insistence, slow and languid, a teasing, intimate exploration that left your knees weak. He pulled you close, fingers threading through your hair, holding you like he meant it. And in that quiet apartment, with the city buzzing faintly outside the window, it was just the two of you—no walls, no secrets, no distance.
When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, breath mingling with yours. “I want everyone to see you,” he murmured. “I want the world to know you’re mine, because you are. And I… I don’t care who knows it. I want to hold your hand in the street, kiss you in public, make no apologies for how I feel. I want it all.”
Your lips curved into a soft, tired smile, heart racing. “Then… let’s start now,” you said. “No more hiding.”
He chuckled, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “No more hiding,” he agreed, lips finding yours again in a tender, lingering kiss. “Only us. And I plan on making every second count.”
You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. The city outside continued its quiet hum, but inside, the world had shrunk to the two of you. You were no longer a secret. He was no longer holding back. And in that simple, perfect moment, everything felt… right.
Luke pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re mine,” he murmured, almost like a vow. “And I’m done hiding it.”
“And I’m yours,” you whispered back, smiling, knowing that this was only the beginning.
