⋆˚𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ who are you?
yan!househusband x fem reader
minors and ageless blogs dni!
authors note: first oc post let's goooo!! send me asks if u want :-)
tw: breaking and entering, stranger danger but he's hot, slightly suggestive
summary: you get home from work, to your- husband??
.☘︎ ݁˖ silliness under the cut!
There are way too many stairs to your apartment, and it's only this obvious after an especially hard day at work. The fact that there is an elevator in the building only rubs salt in your wounds, as it's pretty much never in operation, or someone's using it to move in or out of the building.
On top of the olympic sport of getting to your door on the 8th floor without falling on the concrete floor and dying on the spot, your keys are slippery like water, as you attempt to catch them on the bottom of your bag.
"Gotcha bitch." You dangle the keys in front of your face, glaring as if it'll scare them into not doing it again. With that, you open the door to your apartment, plain and boring, but yours.
Oh. The lights are on? Ugh, the electric bill is going to be a bitch… You cuss out the version of yourself that forgot to turn them off in the morning, and then stumble to get the black heels off of your feet. Unfortunately, they're part of the dressing code, much to the detriment of your pain tolerance. As you straighten back up with a sigh, you see a person in front of you, about a few meters away.
In your genius state of sleep deprivation, you nod with a small greeting, as if you're seeing an acquaintance on the street that you're too familiar with to ignore them.
"Hi sweetheart! Dinner's ready, I hope you like it!" The man seems cheerful, excited to welcome you to your own home, that you now start to slowly remember is shared by no one else but you and some dust bunnies. As he said though, a comforting scent of your favorite soup wafts through the air (that you didn't have the ingredients for, at least you think so.)
"Oh. Nice." This guy is really pretty though, the kind you and a million others would drool over if he was the main lead in some movie. And while it's nice to see such a hottie, hotties generally don't visit your fortress of solitude, especially when you don't even know their name. Neither of you move, and it seems like he's getting shy under your squinting eyes, trying to figure out why this dude is in your apartment. "Is something wrong?" A meek, no longer as excited voice asks, as he fiddles with the hem of his sweater.
"Not to be rude or anything, but who the fuck are you?" The brunette seems to glow with joy, smiling wide, announcing "Oh! I'm your husband, of course!" He steps a bit closer. "Oh, okay." You set your keys down. Wait a minute, you're not married!
Your head whips back to glare at him, the man who is now hugging his arms, causing his sweater to slip down a bit and revealing some cleavage. "So? What do you want first? Dinner, bath, or," He pulls the sweater down, almost revealing his nipples, "Me?"
