luvelve

[luvelve]

mingyu and his many expressive ways of explaining things

bonus:

[luvelve]

he's so prettyyy and boyfriend coded <33

[luvelve]

mingyu is for the girlies who always settled for less, who always hid their goofy side, who don't have a good relationship with their mother, who never stop pretending tireless, who hate their birthday, who remember a lot, who want to live by the mountains alone, who always looks at their sufferings as embarrassments, who are living on strangers kindness, who are constantly attempting to escape, who don't want anybody to fall in love with them.

[luvelve]

wonwoo is for the girlies who grew themselves up, who developed themselves by themselves within themselves, who were never the chosen ones, who were always held back in school despite having massive amounts of talent, who are organized, who had a rushed childhood, who aren't the best-treated sibling, who is stoic, who have massive weights on the head with nowhere to put down, who are a quiet kid with suppressed bubbly side, who thinks they are hard to love, who are not easy to understand, who are combinations of contradictions.

[luvelve]

that audio from bladerunner that goes "hello handsome, what a day... you look lonely, i can fix that." yup yupp

[luvelve]

blooming love

pairing: kim mingyu x fairy!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 1.5k

summary: in which mingyu follows you around like a hopeless puppy in love, hoping that he'll work up the courage to talk to you one day.

warnings: reader does fall into a river

a/n: i'm in my magical era <3

Spring was Mingyu’s favourite time of the year. He adored the sweet aroma of flowers, the bright colours of the blossoms that would paint the landscape. There was something so magical about the season. Earth would awake from its peaceful slumber and burst into life. The lilac chrysanthemums and golden daffodils, blush pink tulips and violet bluebells. The playful chirping of birds, the buzzing of bees, and the rustling of leaves created a symphony of sounds. 

Mingyu loved to wander through the fields and gardens, breathing in the fresh, fragrant air and soaking up the vibrant colours. He loved to lay in the grass and stare up into the cotton like clouds as they floated by. The sun would beam down basking him in comforting warmth.

Yet the thing Mingyu loved most about Spring was you.

His beautiful fairy. 

Spring was the time that you shine your brightest. Your wings glittered in the sunlight, delicate and translucent, glittering with every colour of the rainbow. Sparkle and dust would be left with every magnificent beat as you flew and fluttered like a butterfly. Your skin glowed as if you had been blessed by moonlight and Mingyu could never forget the tinkling laugh that would grace his ears. It would echo through his mind constantly reminding him of you and your everlasting beauty.

Mingyu loved to watch as you chatted excitedly to the newborn animals and as you swept your hand through the small streams of water. He had always admired you from afar, staring as you eagerly helped others. He loved everything about you and though the two of you had never spoken he could feel himself falling more every day.

He just never knew that you felt the same.

// 

You had always known you were being followed by the human boy. You could always sense his presence near you, alway there quietly. There were a few times that he would step on a twig accidentally and you would hear the squeak of surprise from behind you as he hurriedly hid behind the tree. 

The two of you had never spoken before and though you knew of the human that trailed after you, you never made the move to call him out of his hiding spot. 

Over time you had caught glimpses of him. Dark wavy hair, big innocent eyes. He was cute, undeniably so. All your life you had been surrounded by beauty yet when your eyes lay on him you felt your world explode in new colour. The beauty you once knew was long forgotten and you found yourself away from the fairy realm more often than usual. Even if he didn’t speak, his mere presence was enough to light a fire in your heart.

Every week or so you would emerge and tend to nature, sing sweet melodies and engage in conversation with the animals and critters. All of this while you felt his eyes gazing at you. You could never work up the courage to ask the mysterious human for his name. Something stopped you every time you would try to approach him and you often found yourself too scared to confront him.

So you were content as it was. At least you tried to tell yourself so.

It was on one afternoon that you had simply been sitting on the grass near the river. You watched as the sunlight glimmered against the ripples of water as the fish swam past. The flowers against the banks of the water swayed gently to the breeze. You dipped your hand into the water feeling the coolness touch your skin. The fairy realm had always been beautiful but the mystery and intrigue of human’s had always tempted you. 

You sighed as you got ready to head back to your home. You dusted your hands against your dress, fluttering your wings at the motion. Suddenly, you felt a tug on your foot and everything tumbled into your view. You shrieked as you felt yourself fall and you tried desperately to react but it was no use. You felt your body plunge into the water and you squeezed your eyes shut, terrified of what was to come. Your wings felt heavy on your back and it was no use trying to use them when they were soaked. You reached out, arms desperately clawing at the surface of the water yet you found yourself sinking deeper and deeper.

Water invaded your senses and you felt your movements slow. A splash erupted through the river, and though your eyes were closed, you felt a strong arm circle around your waist. You felt yourself get pulled into someone’s grasp and you urged yourself to open your eyes. 

There he was. Your human.

He was even prettier up close. You gasped in shock at the sight. The man’s eyes widened in panic and you belatedly realised why as you felt the air leave your lungs at your stupid action. Before you can react his lips were on yours. You freeze. Even underwater his lips felt soft and plush. As lovely as the gesture was you couldn’t reciprocate as you felt your eyes flutter shut and the last breaths of air leave your body.

//

Mingyu was in absolute shambles. He hadn’t meant to just kiss you out of the blue, he really didn’t! It was just as soon as he saw the bubbles leave your mouth and he realised that you were lacking oxygen he thought of the only thing he could do. Give you some of his own. It wasn’t a very wise decision but then again Kim Mingyu wasn’t known for making many wise decisions.

He had heaved your limp body out of the river frantically trying to get you to wake up. You felt cold and your wings lay heavy on your back. Even unconscious you looked mesmerising. 

The second he had witnessed you tripping and falling into the river he had rushed out to help you, diving into the water with no hesitation. He saw the splashes as your fingertips grazed the surface of the water, a desperate cry for help. Saving you was the only thing on his mind at that moment in time.

“Stupid, stupid stupid.” Mingyu’s head was in his hands as he cursed himself yet again. “Why would you do that Kim Mingyu? You’ve really gone insane now. Oh no, what if she doesn’t wake up? Have I killed a fairy?”

“Mingyu. That’s a pretty name.” Your voice was croaky but nonetheless it caused the man’s head to whip around to your frail frame. His eyes widened as he watched as you lifted yourself off the ground he had laid you on. “I thought it was about time I learnt the name of the human who had been following me around.”

The smile you gave Mingyu made his heart swell and pound out of his chest. He felt his heartbeat pulse and each contraction made his blood spur with excitement. Your gaze felt like an enchantment and he couldn’t help but be enraptured at your stare. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” He felt himself turn red as the words left his mouth. “I swear I only wanted to provide you with some air, I would never kiss someone without consent!”

He held his hands up as if to surrender to you and you giggled at his action. Your wings were still wet yet they still had the iridescent glimmer that was simply just so magical.

“It’s okay, I understand. Thank you so much for saving me. There’s no need to apologise, I appreciate the thought, it was very sweet.” Mingyu watched as your cheeks flushed as well and you cleared your throat. “I quite enjoyed the kiss.”

“W-Wha…sorry - I’m sorry - did you just say that you…enjoyed it?”

“Yes.” You gripped your hands in your lap, nervousness suddenly overwhelming you. “I know you’ve been watching me for a while and I know I can’t complain because I didn’t approach you either but I was just waiting for you to come up to me. I’ve grown quite fond of you, you see, I guess that could be seen as weird because we’ve never actually ever spoken.”

“You’ve grown fond…of me?” Mingyu spluttered, unable to string a sentence when you nodded your head in agreement. The gorgeous fairy that he was so in love with was interested in him. Oh how lucky he was. 

“I hope that now we can actually meet each other and speak. I’ve been dying to get to know you.” 

Your smile felt as if heaven itself had opened its grand doors for Mingyu. He felt himself blush bright red at your words. He opened his mouth to respond but he was irrevocably tongue-tied in front of you. Your eyes twinkled and Mingyu felt his heart race as he tried to muster up the courage to say what he’s been wanting to say since the first day he met you.

“I’ve been dying to get to know you as well.”

[luvelve]

This Is Devotion | csc x f!reader

You've spent your whole life taking care of yourself. Seungcheol thinks it's time someone else took over.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.0k | Pairing: csc x f!reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: alcohol mention (they meet at a bar), daddy kink, sugar daddy vibes but he’s a bf first, fingering, praise kink, v light choking, condomless piv sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, breeding kink and impreg kink but mainly at the end, wants to wife you up fr

Reader Notes: eldest daughter, on birth control, gets carried by cheol

Seungcheol didn’t really expect to meet the love of his life at a bar on a regular Friday night, but as soon as he saw you, he knew you were something special. And as soon as he spoke to you, got to know you, he knew he wanted to learn more. 

The way you carried yourself didn’t make you seem the most receptive - you were closed off, seemingly disinterested, but when he started to back away, intending to let you enjoy your night without him as you appeared to want, you got this look in your eye like he was doing exactly the opposite of what you desired. 

So he stuck around, asked if he could buy you a drink, keeping a respectful distance between your body and his even though he felt like you were a celestial being with your own gravity pulling him in. He learned a lot about you that night - what you do for work, what you do for fun, whether you’d be open to him taking you out - but he didn’t learn what it was that made you so standoffish when he first approached you. 

That didn’t come until later, until the fourth date and the family talk. Over a dinner he spent hours preparing, you told him that you were the eldest of three children, and that you’d practically raised your younger siblings yourself. Your parents worked hard, too hard to spend much time or energy on you, so you raised yourself too. 

You took on two jobs to pay for college because most of your family’s money was spent on your younger siblings' extracurriculars, and you graduated with honors but with no one to cheer for you, to celebrate you. They were all too busy, apparently, though Seungcheol didn’t know what could possibly be more important than you reaping the reward of all the effort and stress you had put into your schooling. 

He tried to tell you that you deserved better, but you were adamant that you were used to taking care of yourself, to being alone. You said that the friends you made along the way were your new family and that they treated you better than you deserved. 

Seungcheol could have talked until he was blue in the face about just what it was he thought you deserved. 

He knew you wouldn’t hear it though, so he took it upon himself to show you instead. 

It wasn’t long after that date that he asked if he could be your boyfriend, and as soon as you said yes, he vowed to himself that as long as you kept him around, you would know what it was to be taken care of. 

He started slow. First, it was making sure your car always had gas and your oil changes were always up to date. You used to drive it almost to empty, and he knew that was bad for both your fuel pump and your stress levels, so he would pop into your work every so often to bring you your favorite little treat and grab your keys to fill it up. You always gave him your credit card and he always took it, but never once did he make use of it. 

Once you grew accustomed to that, he moved on to being your driver for girl’s night out. You would always text him while you were in the uber so he knew you were safe, but after one too many sleazy guys flirted with you and your friends, he stepped in. You had already shared locations with each other (again, for safety reasons), so when you texted him that you were gearing up to go, he told you to cancel the ride and look for his car instead. 

He drove every one of your friends home and saw them up to their door before taking you back to your apartment, lovingly removing your makeup, and getting you into pajamas. He tried to tuck you in and leave, but you caught his hand and tugged him into bed with you, snuggling up under his arm before promptly knocking out. Knowing that you felt safe enough to fall asleep with him was his favorite form of payment. 

You had one, maybe two outings a month, and Seungcheol was happy to keep those nights clear of plans so he could make sure you and all your friends got home safely. It was just a bonus that every one of those nights turned into a sleepover with you wrapped up in his arms, warm and soft against him.  

It wasn’t until a few months in that he started spending more money on you. He loved to buy you snacks and milk teas and lip gloss but he knew there were things you wanted that were simply out of your budget. He also knew you would never let him pay your rent so you could buy those things, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t buy them for you. So he would take you out shopping under the pretense of needing something new himself, keeping an eye on what your eye lingered on and making note of it in his mind. 

The first purchase was a necklace you loved so much, the sight of it made you gasp. He was getting his watch repaired and you had wandered off to look around, and when he heard that gasp he knew instantly that whatever it was, it would be yours. It took him all of two minutes to flag an employee down, ask them to package up the item you loved, and add it to his total. 

When he presented it to you, you tried to say it was too much, that you couldn’t accept such a gift. He pouted until you sighed and moved your hair out of the way, allowing him to put the necklace on you and smiling a small, pleased smile as you felt at the delicate chain and pendant. 

After that came dresses and shoes and cookware and other things you would never let yourself splurge on but you also wouldn’t want to say no to. You worried for his finances but Seungcheol was a smart spender before you, and he earned and saved enough that every gift for you barely made a dent. It was money he was happy to spend, especially when he got to see you wearing or using the things he bought you. 

You would joke and say he wasn’t just your boyfriend but your sugar daddy, and he laughed, at first. 

Then, he thought about it more, thought about how he lived to take care of you, to show you what you deserved, to make sure you were happy and healthy and safe, and he realized that maybe he was your sugar daddy, in a way. 

Hearing you call him daddy for the first time still almost sends him to an early grave, though. 

It happens when he’s balls deep inside of you. Your thighs are hitched up high on his waist and your arms are wrapped around his neck, holding him close enough he has to brace himself on his forearms and fold his knees on either side of your hips. It’s not like that’s a hardship, not when he can press his forehead to yours and breathe your air, staring into your eyes as he fucks in and out of you, your pussy perfectly formed around his aching cock. 

He loves feeling close to you like this, and the closeness is the only reason he hears it. 

“Daddy,” you sigh, in the smallest voice he’s ever heard from you. 

He stills immediately, his dick throbbing and leaking inside of you as he tries to hold off his orgasm, his heart thumping so hard in his chest, he’s fearful it’ll jump out of his ribcage and straight into yours. 

“What did you say?” He asks, because he’s sure there’s no way you called him that, independent and self-reliant as you are. 

“Nothing,” you respond much too quickly, and he wants to press further, but your voice is nervous and your face is tense, and he doesn’t want to push you if you’re not ready. 

So he keeps going, fucks you until you cum and then fills you up, dragging you into the shower after so he can rinse you clean and get you into some warm pajamas.

Seungcheol wakes before you the next day, uses the time to stare at you and think everything through. 

You’ve always had to take care of yourself, always had to fill other cups before your own, until he came along. Over the year and a half that he’s spent with you, he’s made every effort to take the load off, to tend to you in ways that you’ve never experienced before. You’ve softened up over time, gotten used to him protecting and nurturing you, and you’ve rewarded him with your trust and your love. 

It makes sense that you would call him daddy, and it makes sense that he would fucking adore it. 

So when you start to stir, he tucks you closer to him, your back aligned with his front and his hardening cock pressed into the plush of your ass. One arm is draped over your waist, his hand covering your breast, and his other arm is stretched out beneath your neck, bent at the elbow to band over your chest and hold your shoulder. You’re completely wrapped up in him, and as soon as you hum and tilt your hips back into his, he kisses up your neck and murmurs, “Let me take care of you, baby. Let daddy do the work, huh?” 

You gasp and wriggle in his hold, but he hugs you tighter and says, “That’s what you called me last night, right? I don’t mind, sweetheart.” 

“Are you sure it’s not… weird?” You whisper quietly, and he can picture the anxious expression you must be wearing. He gently sinks his teeth into your neck before responding, “It’s not weird to me, baby. You know I love taking care of you.”

You relax muscle by muscle, and by the time his hand wraps around your thigh and pulls it up and out, you’re boneless against him. “Can you hold that leg up for me, honey? I’m gonna touch you.”

“Okay, daddy,” you sigh sweetly as you take over for him, his entire body lighting up at the sound of you saying that word with such ease. 

You’re drenched when he slides his fingers between your legs, pushing aside your pajama shorts to touch you bare and groaning at the feeling of your soaking heat. His fingertips glide as he drags them from your entrance up to your clit, soft little sounds escaping you when he presses circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

He thinks this might be the wettest you’ve ever been for him, and he luxuriates in the feeling of having cracked your code, of knowing that you’ve never been more open or trusting with him before. It means he’ll have to treat you delicately, but Seungcheol is nothing if not devoted, dedicated, committed to being everything you could ever need.

He works you up just like this, with his fingertips soft on your clit and his lips gentle on your neck, mumbling little promises about how daddy will always make you feel good, always love you, always put you first. 

“I want you inside, daddy,” you cry, and he feels himself throb against you, leaking in his boxers and desiring you more than the air he breathes. 

“Cum for me first, baby, I know you can do it.”

To help you along, he slips two fingers inside of you, his thumb taking over on your clit, pressing insistently as his fingers curl, searching for the spot that always makes you gush. He finds it quickly, grinding with his fingertips as he wraps his other hand around the base of your neck, barely squeezing. A grin stretches his lips when you start to move with him, your walls clenching down on his digits as you get closer and closer to the edge. 

He knows you’re right there by the sounds escaping you, by the way your cunt is fluttering around his fingers, by the arousal seeping out with every dig into your sweet spot. It’s really just a matter of timing and luck that you break when he says, “You’re such a good girl for daddy, show me how good you are and cum.”

The whine you let out is enough to have him bucking into you, the sound so plaintive and vulnerable that he wants to wrap you up tight in his arms and never let you go. Your pussy weeps around his fingers, sucking them in deeper and squeezing in pulses, your walls gripping them strongly enough that he feels the phantom pressure around his cock. 

“So fucking perfect, so sweet and beautiful and wet for me, baby. Fuck, I love you,” Seungcheol pants into your throat, dotting the soft skin with kisses and little bites. 

“I love you. Will you fuck me now, daddy?” You try to turn your head to look at him and he breathes, “Yes, baby,” before freeing his fingers with a slick sound and sucking them into his mouth. He hums at the taste of you as he shifts away, giving you enough space to roll onto your back and kneeling between your legs when you spread them. 

He’s fucked you from behind before and he will again, but right now he wants to gaze into your eyes, watch your lips form around the word he didn’t know he’s been aching to hear. 

You’re too pretty for him to not look at you anyway, especially as he tugs one thigh up around his waist and pushes the other up to your belly. He loves getting you into position, loves the way you stare trustingly at him and let him move you, loves knowing that you believe he’ll never do anything but bring you pleasure. 

He tucks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and pushes them down, grinning bashfully and feeling his ears heat as your eyes immediately drop to his cock. He’s insanely hard for you, flushed and leaking and desperate, and he feels himself twitch when you whimper, “Daddy, please, I need you so bad.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll always give you what you need,” he promises, pushing your pajama shorts to the side again and taking hold of his dick to line himself up. 

He can’t resist gliding the head of his cock through your wet folds, grinding into your clit before sliding down and starting to sink inside. A groan escapes without his permission but he doesn’t try to swallow it, wants you to know what you do to him, how you make him feel. 

Being surrounded, enveloped by you is the best sensation in the world, the grip of your wet heat dizzying and comforting and more than enough to drive him crazy, no matter how many times he’s felt you before. 

Your cunt is heaven on earth, like nothing else he’s ever experienced, and he considers it his sacred duty to make sure you never forget that. 

“Perfect fucking pussy, baby, god,” he moans, barely halfway inside of you and already feeling the flames of pleasure licking at his spine. 

You flutter around him at his words, your arms rising to wrap around his neck and draw him in close, mirroring the exact position he had you in last night.

You must realize it too because your breath hitches before you tilt your head up and gently press your lips to his, mumbling, “Daddy,” into his mouth as he finally bottoms out. It makes him twitch inside of you, makes his hips roll into yours, makes his heart feel so full, it aches. 

He almost can’t bear to leave you but he knows he’ll have to if he wants to fuck you, so with only a little reluctance, he draws back, fighting a shiver when cold air hits the wetness on his cock. 

You dig your heel into his ass and urge him forward, your eyes needy and your gasp desperate as he bucks into you and fills you again. You used to need some time to adjust to him, but you take him often enough now that he can move within you smoothly, your generous arousal easing the way even as your walls cling to him. 

The rhythm he sets is slow, measured, but he slides in deep and hooks his hips up on the way out to drag over your sweet spot, your pussy just getting wetter and wetter around him. The sounds are obscene, the slap of his hips meeting your ass and the squelch of his cock reaching the end of you loud compared to the peaceful silence of the early morning. 

Every time he gets inside of you feels like the first but is somehow better than the last, and he knows that doesn’t make sense but he’s senseless when it comes to you anyway, his logic and reasoning replaced by tenderness and infatuation. It’s even worse now that there’s this added facet of caring, of responsibility, this knowledge that you’re entrusting him with a side of you he’s sure no one has ever seen before. 

“How is it, baby?” His voice is ragged, tight and rough with lust when he speaks, but his tone is as gentle and loving as his thrusts are. 

A minute passes before you can respond and he practically watches the words form in your head, his gaze heavy on you as you put them together letter by letter. 

“So good, daddy, you make me feel… whole,” you sigh blissfully, your fingers twirling the hair at the nape of his neck and your inner muscles clenching around him. 

He can’t hold back the shiver this time, not when your response floods him with greedy affection and a covetous sense of possession, one that goes both ways. He belongs to you as much as you belong to him, and he knows you belong together just like he knows that the sky is blue and the earth is round. 

It’s frightening, almost, to think that there’s nothing on this planet that he loves more than he loves you. But it’s worth the risk, worth the vulnerability, worth the fear to get to be the one who makes you feel whole. He can’t help but hope he’ll be the only one who does for the rest of your life. 

Which is a dangerous vein of thought considering the fact that he already has a 3 carat diamond ring hidden in his study, just waiting to be slid onto your left fourth finger. 

He’s inches from disentangling himself from you to go get it, but this is neither the time nor the place. 

Instead, he leans in and ardently locks his lips with yours, breathing into you all of his passion, all of his sincerity. You kiss him back like you can taste it, adjusting your leg around his waist so you can hold him closer, his movements in and out turning into a slow, dirty grind. 

“Love you so fucking much,” he murmurs into your mouth, his mouth stretching in a grin when you mumble back to him, “Love you more, Cheollie.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, baby,” he chuckles brokenly, pleasure starting to knot low in his belly, his cock growing harder and his balls tightening as he gets closer and closer. 

“Agree to disagree,” you laugh breathlessly, tugging his hair and gasping sharply when he snakes one hand between your bodies to rub at your swollen clit. 

You squeeze down around him, your pussy molding to his cock like he was made for you, made to fill you where you’re empty, and fuck, he’s sure he was. Every part of him was built for loving you, there’s no other explanation for how flawlessly you fit in his arms, his life, his heart. 

He can tell you’re nearing the edge, your walls spasming and your eyes glazing over, and he holds off his own release even as it spools in his stomach like molten twine. Breaking before you simply isn’t an option; breaking after you is, but he knows well that any nirvana he could reach is infinitely better when he reaches it with you. 

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? For daddy? I’ll fuck you full of my cum if you do,” he promises darkly, already envisioning himself spreading your legs and watching his seed seep out of your stretched pussy. 

“Yeah, daddy, I’m- I’m-” 

A weak cry cuts you off, your mouth stuck open as tears dampen your lashes and leak down your temples. Your cunt clamps down around him in pulses, so hot and wet and tight that it draws out his own orgasm, his heart pounding as his cock jerks and spurts cum deep inside of you, so deep he wonders if it’ll stick. You’re on birth control but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want to make you his wife then breed you full, get you pregnant, leave no room for doubt that he both loves you and fucks you like you deserve. 

The thought makes him hard enough to keep going, to grind into you and push his cum even deeper inside, his fingers still swirling circles around your sensitive clit. It’s not long before you’re digging your nails into his shoulders and keening for him, your thighs shaking and your back arching off the bed as you fall to pieces again. 

He slides his arm beneath your shoulders and hefts you up against him, burying his face in your neck and holding you close as he cums inside of you for the second time. This one leaves him a bit teary eyed too, thoughts and wishes and desires racing through his mind, visions of the life you could share making him swallow down a sob. 

You sense the shift in his emotions, your fingers carding through his hair and your voice soft as you tell him that you love him, that you always will, that you’ll spend all the rest of your life making sure he knows. 

Seungcheol feels like this is his job but the comfort you bring him is worth admitting that he can be just as needy as you. 

He stays tangled up with you for what feels like ages, long enough for the sweat on his back to dry and the arm underneath you to fall asleep, and when he emerges, he feels like a new man. 

A new man that still wants to lay between your thighs and watch his cum leak out of you. 

You’re not shy about it anymore, happy to let your legs fall open and drag your nails over his scalp as he rests his head on your soft inner thigh, his eyes locked on your glistening cunt. 

“Prettiest pussy in the whole wide world,” he mumbles dazedly before glancing up at your face and correcting himself, “Prettiest baby in the whole wide world.”

Minutes pass before you squirm in discomfort and he peels himself away, accepting that it’s time to get you in the bath. 

“C’mon, honey, up you go,” he says quietly, reaching for your hands and starting to pull you, his biceps tensing when you refuse to cooperate. 

“Carry me, Cheollie,” you beg rather adorably, and he doesn’t even have it in himself to roll his eyes as he leans in close enough for you to wrap your arms and legs around him before straightening up with you attached to his front. 

He hefts you up higher against his body, one arm around your back, the other under your ass, and says, “That’s daddy to you, baby,” as he lumbers to the bathroom, not so secretly pleased to be needed by you. 

AN: i didn't really ever see myself writing full blown daddy kink outside of kinktober but here we are and im not mad about it!!

inspired by discussions with my anons ily all i hope you like it

[luvelve]

he's soooooo husband ugh <333

[luvelve]

yeah what the actual fuck...????

[luvelve]

kim mingyu u are very much fueling the DILF agenda

[luvelve]

S.COUPS DAZED Photo Shoot Sketch

[luvelve]

WONWOO Maestro @ MuBank (240503)

[luvelve]

oh…. this is so beautiful. no words. just beautiful.

He feels like you’d be up for that, imagines photographing you in all kinds of positions and varying states of undress, safe in the knowledge that he can rent a darkroom and develop them himself. 

something about this line !!!! <333

oh good heavens, how you captured two lovers in paris so perfectly…

April Shower | jww x f!reader

Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~12.0k Pairing: jww x f!reader | Genre: romance, meet cute, smut, love at first sight

Story Warnings: alcohol and food mention

Smut Warnings: masturbation mention, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, bigdick!wonwoo, wonwoo’s cold hands, size kink, light thigh slapping, fingering, oral reader rec., overstimulation, slight dumbification, squirting, sexual health/safety talk, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cumming on tits

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, like half a foot shorter than wonwoo, wap, has a cycle to track

AN: written for my bestie @sluttywonwoo’s birthday! kaili, the light you bring to my life is immeasurable and i’m so lucky i’ve gotten to grow with you over the past 7 years 💖

Wonwoo draws in a deep, tremulous breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, wishing not for the first time that he was anywhere but the city of love. 

This is the second proposal he’s photographed today, the fifth this week, and while he’s always thought himself to be someone who doesn’t mind love, he’s starting to grow a bit… weary. 

His hotel room is obviously meant for two, as were many of the pastas and desserts he’s ordered so far. Everywhere he looks, there are people kissing or hugging or holding hands, their ages ranging from teens in puppy love to folks in their golden years shuffling down the street arm in arm, supporting each other as they have for decades. 

He’s been working as a travel writer for five years, been single just as long, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself feeling lonely. He’s usually restless, never wanting to settle in one place, and he’s almost always solo, reluctant to give himself to someone who might want to keep him. 

Lately, he’s felt a bit differently. Perhaps he’s getting old, outgrowing his bachelor lifestyle. He finds himself wanting to plant roots where before he was nearly offended by the notion of digging any deeper than surface level. 

There’s just something about Verona that begs to be shared, to be experienced with someone else. Maybe it’s the romantic music flowing from the restaurants he passes, maybe it’s the fact that he seems to be the sole single person in this city. Regardless of the cause, he actually feels alone, for the first time in years. 

It’s not a feeling he enjoys, or one he’s familiar with, and as he traverses the cobblestone streets, he almost wishes he was holding someone’s hand instead of the camera he’s carried for most of his life. 

Wonwoo swears out loud when he feels the first drop of rain. He checked the forecast twice this morning, knowing he would be exploring an area a few miles from his hotel and that he wouldn’t be able to return to grab or drop anything off. 

With the weather appearing to be clear and sunny all day, he left his umbrella in his room and headed out to catch his taxi. 

He more than regrets that now, the rain starting to pour and his white button down beginning to soak through. He at least brought his water resistant backpack so for now, his camera is safe, but spending the rest of the day in sodden clothes sounds like actual hell. 

He looks up and down the street frantically, finding only personal residences, not a single shop in sight. 

Until he looks closer and realizes the building at the end of the row has a sign. He can’t read it from this far away, even with his glasses, but the hope is enough to propel him forward. 

He darts down the street, splashing through puddles and swearing again as he feels water permeate his socks. The store comes into view, the sign becoming clearer and clearer the closer he gets. 

Storie d’Amore, it reads. Love stories, of course. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the city of love. 

“It’s open, thank fuck,” Wonwoo murmurs as he wrenches the door open and steps inside, his clothes dripping all over the hardwood floors. 

He feels terrible tracking rainwater into this store, but he had no other choice. His water resistant bag is only resistant for so long, and his camera is far too valuable to risk. 

He glances around the small room, looking for the owner so he can apologize and instead finding shelves upon shelves of books. He walks slowly, squelches following each step, and reads over the spines. 

He’s shocked to find novels in all kinds of languages, some he recognizes and speaks and some he doesn’t. He’s relatively fluent in five thanks to his years of language classes and traveling, and he has to resist picking up a book in each of the ones he knows. 

He reaches the end of the first shelf, gasping at the large paned window he finds and gasping even louder at the black, tailless cat lounging on the ledge. 

The cat pays him little to no mind, lazily peering at him over their shoulder before curling into a small ball. They blink their big peridot eyes a few times and let out a heavy sigh, settling into sleep faster than Wonwoo could ever hope to. 

Enchanted, he swings his bag around to his front, digging through and pulling out his camera as quietly as possible. 

Even with the mid-April shower, the light coming in through the window illuminates the subtle white notes in the cat’s fur, giving them a glow he begs his camera to capture. 

He crouches until he’s eye level with the cat, holding his breath as he brings the viewfinder up to his eye and presses down the shutter button. 

The cat doesn’t stir, too deep in slumber to register the quiet click. He takes a few more pictures, trying different angles and light settings until he feels he’s gotten every possible combination. 

Maybe it’s stupid, but Wonwoo is more excited to share these photos than nearly any others he’s ever taken. 

Which is why he balks and falls flat on his ass when he hears, “Anubis is a model, you’ll owe us royalties for those.” 

Eyes wide, he looks around wildly to find the source of the words. There’s no one in sight, the store seemingly empty except for him and Anubis. 

“Up here,” the voice calls out, drawing his eye and making his mouth drop open when he finally notices a spiral staircase leading up to a small loft. 

He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. He must have been too busy staring at the cat to really take in the rest of the store, and as you slowly step down, he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed. What he can tell is that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and that he suddenly wants to ask if you believe in love at first sight. 

“I can give you royalties! Please don’t make me delete them,” he pleads, far less embarrassed than he should be by the fact that he’s practically on his knees begging a pretty stranger to let him keep photos he took. 

You reach the landing and make your way toward him, your face unreadable. He’s surprised when you break into a sweet smile and hold your hand out to him. He hugs the camera close to his chest in response, making you roll your eyes and grab his free hand. 

The warmth of your touch is a shock to his system, but he holds back the shiver that wants to roll down his spine as you lean back and tug. Still confused, he lets you help him up, feeling self conscious in his damp clothes. 

He stands a little straighter when he realizes he’s over half a foot taller than you, the height difference giving him back some of his confidence. He’s not sure it should, especially with the unimpressed look you level at him when you set eyes on the trail he tracked through your store. 

“I’m so sorry, I can clean it up if you give me supplies,” he offers, fully serious and almost hoping you’ll say yes just so he can assuage his guilt. 

“These floors have seen worse,” you shrug, leaning down to pet Anubis, and Wonwoo has no idea what that means but he’s not about to ask. He introduces himself instead, shaking the hand still held by yours and repeating your name when you offer it. 

He’s only slightly jealous when you pull away and hook your hands under the cat’s body to draw him into your arms, though whom he’s jealous of, he doesn’t know. 

He would love to be holding the cat, but he has a sneaking suspicion he’d also love to be held by you. 

Your hand was so warm, and so soft, and the rest of you looks just as warm and soft, if not more. 

Anubis snuggles into your arms, his legs stretching and his toes spreading before he tucks them up against your forearm. His eyes go heavy lidded when you start to scratch his head, and now Wonwoo knows who he’s jealous of. 

He hates to admit it but it’s been years since he let someone touch him, and after just a minute or two of knowing you, he’s already hoping you’ll touch him more. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold Anubis so lovingly, so gently, or if it’s because you have this aura about you that soothes him, or if it’s even because he feels this attraction, this draw to you. Maybe it’s all three. 

All he knows is that something about you makes him want to stay until his clothes are dry and the sun is setting, and then stay a little longer after that. Like for months, or even years, perhaps. 

He’s relieved when you ask if he’d like some tea, directing him over to the small fireplace in the back of the store and nodding to one of the chairs. When he sits, you lean down and plop Anubis in his lap, surprise painting your face when he doesn’t immediately jump down. 

“He’s usually wary of new people,” you hum thoughtfully, watching as the cat gets comfortable on his thighs. He brings his hand up and runs it over his soft fur, beaming up at you when he feels Anubis’s little body start vibrating beneath his palm. 

“I love him,” Wonwoo admits, his voice grave and his eyes open and true behind his glasses. 

You just laugh and say, “Me too,” before disappearing behind a door, leaving him alone with your cat. 

Rain is still barraging the building, the steady sound lulling him into a trance as he pets the sweet being in his lap. The fire warms him quickly, making him realize just how cold he was before, a small shiver attempting to wrack his body again. He keeps it contained to his shoulders, wanting to avoid disturbing Anubis if possible. 

He tells himself it’s just because he wants him to stay, but if he’s being honest, he also hopes that if you see that your cat likes him, then you will too. 

Before long, you return with a tray of steaming mugs, one for him and one for you. You set it carefully on the side table between the chairs, telling him, “I would let it steep for two more minutes. There’s also biscotti, and some crostini if you’re allergic to nuts.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” he breathes, his eyes wide. He’s run into some very nice people on his travels, but it’s been a while since he was met with such hospitality. Here he is, sitting in front of a blazing fire with tea and snacks waiting for him, after dirtying your shop and taking unapproved pictures of your model cat. Cat model?

“So, how much do you expect in royalties?” He asks with trepidation, knowing the magazine he works for is pretty big but maybe not big enough to pay residuals for pictures of a cat. 

You stare at him for a few seconds, squinting your eyes and quirking your head before chuckling, “That was a joke. Bubby isn’t a model, I just think he’s handsome enough to be one.”

“Ohhhh.”

Wonwoo feels himself blush, his cheeks and ears flaring red before he forces out a laugh to try to cover his embarrassment. He’s not used to jokes, usually relying on sarcasm, puns, and situational humor, and he’s a bit ashamed he didn’t realize you weren’t being serious. He stares down at Anubis, petting him softly so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. 

“Tea should be ready,” you say brightly, picking up your mug with careful hands and kindly allowing him to recover without your gaze on him.

He follows suit, cupping his hands around the hot mug and bringing it to his lips so he can blow gently, huffing when steam fogs up his glasses. He pushes them up into his hair, thinking absentmindedly that he should get it cut soon as he takes his first sip. 

The flavors bloom on his tongue, mint, orange, cinnamon, honey, and something else he can’t put his finger on. It’s the most comforting tea he’s ever had, and he blinks over at you with misty, blurry eyes, sighing, “What is this? I need to buy four tons of it.”

“It’s called Evening Sorrento, it’s one of my favorites,” you smile indulgently, bringing your mug to your lips and drinking slowly before setting it down and reaching for the biscotti. 

He follows your lead, taking a biscuit and dipping it in his tea like you do. The first bite has him groaning in appreciation, dark chocolate, citrus, and almond blending together flawlessly, the taste only enhanced by the tea. 

“What’s the spiciness from?” He asks curiously, taking another sip to try to figure it out himself. 

“Ginger,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “I candied some and put it in the biscotti, too.”

“You made these?” He sounds astonished, he knows, but he almost can’t wrap his head around someone being able to create something so delicious when all he can do is fry an egg. He still burns it half the time, more scared of undercooking than he is of overcooking.

“Yeah, my best friend taught me how, she loves to bake,” you smile sweetly, seemingly pleased to see him enjoying the food you made. 

Anubis stirs, stretching out on Wonwoo’s lap before leaping onto the floor and up into your chair. You murmur, “Hi, baby,” and Wonwoo can’t help but grin as he watches your cat use your arm to pet himself. 

He asks how long you’ve had him, then for pictures when he learns you rescued him as a kitten, gasping softly at the tiny version of the cat as you swipe through photos. The conversation shifts to Wonwoo’s desire to adopt a cat before he explains why he can’t, and the way you look genuinely sad for him makes his heart swell. 

You ask more about his job, about the places he’s been and the things he’s seen, and in turn, he asks how you acquired all of the books in this store. It turns out you have contacts all over the world, friends who send you romance books when they come across them in exchange for a free one when they next come to visit. It seems like the perfect system, allowing you to collect novels in different languages and share them with the people you love. 

Talking to you is so easy that he doesn’t even notice how late it’s grown until you check your phone, a startled expression on your face as you say, “I should have closed half an hour ago.” 

He glances at his watch, blanching at the clock staring back at him. It’s been four hours since he burst into your shop looking for refuge from the downpour, and he doesn’t even know if it’s still raining. The sun has long since set, going down around six PM this time of year, which was over two and a half hours ago. 

He rises swiftly, nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in his slacks and thanking you for your generosity. You stand with him, hugging Anubis to your chest before offering the cat for one last snuggle. Wonwoo takes him carefully, bundling him up against his now dry shirt and smoothing a hand from his head all the way down to the nub at the end of his body. 

He starts purring immediately, the sound audible even over the crackling of the embers, making you smile softly and tell him, “Bubby likes you.”

“I like him,” Wonwoo beams, reluctantly handing the cat over when you stretch your arms out. 

“You love him,” you correct with mirth dancing in your eyes as you walk him to the door.

He peeks out, sighing in relief when he finds that the rain has stopped before turning to you. He almost doesn’t know what to say, goodbye feeling too final, too formal. He thanks you again instead, dragging his feet now that it’s time to leave. 

But he doesn’t want to be rude, or keep you any longer than he already has, so with one last wave and a scritch under Anubis’s chin, he leaves. 

You call out, “Come back soon!” and while he’s sure you say that to all your customers, he can’t help but feel like you mean it. 

Wonwoo has a plan for the day: take the train to Venice, splurge on a gondola ride, and capture as many of the historical buildings as he can while the boat is guided through the canals. 

So why he finds himself standing outside of Storie d’Amore again, he doesn’t know. 

He managed to stay away for two days, hiking all over Verona and taking enough pictures to fill an SD card. He would have made it three if he asked the cab driver to take him to the train station instead of your place of business, but here he is. 

Some part of him wants to rationalize it. He didn’t get any photos of the area because of the rain, just of your (not) model cat, so he’s simply making up for lost time. That still doesn’t explain why he’s staring through the paned glass window at the end of your shop, hoping for a glimpse of you or Anubis. 

Obviously, you’re both here, but he doesn’t see either of you, and he also wants to buy a few books to take home, so it only makes sense that he goes into your store. 

He’s dry this time, thankfully, though he wonders if that means you won’t offer him tea and biscotti again. He can see a few people milling about, pulling books off the shelves to read the summaries and either placing them into mismatched baskets or putting them back. 

He does the same, searching for novels in the languages he knows with the intent of buying one of each. He’s gathered Italian, French, and English when he feels something rub against his leg, looking down to find a black cat staring up at him. 

“Anubis!” Wonwoo grins, leaning down to set the basket to the side so he can pick up his little friend. Holding him to his chest, he feels his heart warm as the purring starts, not even a little mad about the black fur accumulating on his shirt. 

“Oh!” 

He hears you gasp and glances up, smiling shyly at you and shifting to hold Anubis with one arm so he can send you a wave that only feels a little awkward. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” you say, stepping closer to him and taking in the basket at his feet and backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You told me to,” he shrugs sheepishly, suddenly fearing that, “Come back soon,” is something you just say to everyone. 

“I didn’t think you actually would. I thought you’d be gone by now, on to the next destination.” 

He can’t tell if you’re happy to see him or not, but you haven’t kicked him out yet so he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. 

“The next destination can wait. I needed something to read on the plane anyway.” 

“Looks like you found more than just something,” you chuckle, peering closer to check out the titles he’s gathered so far. “All good choices,” you smile up at him, and he feels something unlock in his chest to make space for you. 

“Can I take you out on a date?” He blurts out, his eyes widening and his free hand flying up to cover his mouth. The words escaped without his permission, but he can’t say he wants to take them back. 

You tilt your head and look at him for a little while, like you’re searching for something, and you must find it because your smile grows before you nod and say, “I can close early tonight. Does seven work for you?” 

“It works perfectly,” he breathes after lowering his hand, his heart racing and his body feeling warm for once. 

A customer calls out your name, making you glance over before you turn back and say, “Leave your books at the register and meet me here later?” 

He can only nod, grinning too wide to manage any words. 

“Don’t take my cat, I love that little guy,” you warn him playfully (he thinks) and spin to find the source of the voice. He can hear you speaking in rapid French, easily translating it in his head without even meaning to. They’re asking for your help in choosing between two books, one a tragedy and one a comedy. 

You go over the pros and cons of each genre and offer your own personal opinions on the specific books, making Wonwoo wonder if you’ve read every novel in here. You seemed to recognize the books in his basket and you apparently know the ones this customer is talking about; maybe you read them as you receive them? 

But there are so many, there’s just no way, he thinks, letting Anubis wriggle out of his arms to follow you. He supposes that’s something he can ask you at dinner, the thought bringing a pleased little smile to his face. 

He selects his last two books and wanders over to the checkout counter, stashing his basket on the stool behind it before heading out to get pictures of the neighborhood while he can. 

He’ll be busy tonight, after all.

Wonwoo returns to your shop five minutes before the clock strikes seven. 

He slips in without your notice, making his way to his favorite window and sitting down on the ledge next to Anubis to scroll through the pictures he took while he was out. The cat just sprawls a bit more so his feet are touching Wonwoo’s thigh, the tiny points of connection warming him from the inside out. 

He captured another proposal today, but this one didn’t leave a hollow feeling in his chest like the others. Now that he’s thinking about it, neither did any of the couples he passed. He was able to truly appreciate all of them without that sense of bitter loneliness, and he can only attribute that to meeting you. 

An unbidden smile stretches his lips as he thinks about the time he spent sitting by that fire with you, talking about anything that came to mind. It’s been months since he spent four straight hours with someone, just talking. It’s been years since he wanted to. 

A tiny part of him fears he only feels this way because he’s been so lonely, but the rest of him knows he’d be enamored with you no matter what state he was in. 

This is only confirmed when you round the bookshelf and come to a stop in front of him, an emerald green dress swishing over your thighs and a smile brightening your face. You cleared the store in the time he spent reminiscing, leaving the room empty but for you, Wonwoo, and Anubis.

The air feels tense, heavy with something Wonwoo can’t quite identify. It’s only when he rises to his feet and finds himself closer to you than he meant to be that he realizes that something is potential. 

It’s the same rush of anticipation that fills his chest when he lines up a shot he knows will be incredible, when he finishes climbing a hill and sees the perfect sunset waiting for him, when he finally finds the words to describe the indescribably beautiful. The fact that he’s feeling it now, with you, tells him everything he needs to know. 

His previous fear of meeting someone who would want to keep him has become a dream, a wish that he can only hope will come true, because now Wonwoo knows he wants you to take hold of him and never let go. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so full of longing, it’s almost embarrassing. 

“Before the first date? The scandal!” You say dramatically, feigning offense and lightly tapping him on the chest. He gasps at the contact and covers your hand with his, pressing it flat to his pec so you can feel his speeding heart. 

You must realize how serious he is, how desperate, because the playful smile falls from your face, your gaze darting between his eyes and his lips. He feels himself flush under your attention, his ears and the back of his neck hot as you stare up at him. 

“Yes, Wonwoo. You can kiss me,” you breathe softly, your face tilting up and your eyelashes fluttering as he begins to lean down. This moment feels monumental for some reason, like something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, and as he cups your face and carefully presses his lips to yours, he figures out why. 

Everything about kissing you feels right, as if all of his jagged pieces have fallen into place, as if this is what he was destined for, as if the fates connected him to you with an invisible, unbreakable string. 

He wasn’t restless, he wasn’t a bachelor, he was just waiting for you. 

Suddenly his smile is too broad for him to keep kissing you, giddiness flowing through his veins as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. He leaves his hands on your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone before biting back his grin and kissing you one, two, three more times. 

He feels shy when he takes a step back, letting one hand fall to catch yours and squeezing like it’s a lifeline. 

“Was that… life-changing for you too?” Wonwoo asks quietly, scared to pop the bubble he’s found himself in with you. 

“Maybe,” you whisper, vulnerability evident in your voice though your face gives nothing away. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, yes, we should,” he lets you pull away even though it physically pains him, following when you tug him to the door with the hand he’s still holding. 

He doesn’t know what just happened, why you closed yourself off, but he’ll give you the space you seem to need, sure that if he pushes it will only make you freeze up more. For now, he’ll take you to that romantic riverfront restaurant he passed earlier and encourage you to order any and everything you like. 

You ease up a bit after a glass of wine and some shared appetizers, the smile on your face genuine again though your light still seems dimmer than it was before. You ask him a lot of questions but don’t offer up much information in return, keeping your responses short and to the point. 

It doesn’t disrupt the flow of conversation at all, thankfully; Wonwoo and you are compatible enough that it’s easy to bounce from one topic to another. There’s never a pause, never a moment where he doesn’t know what to say, and even with you being more withdrawn than expected, he still laughs himself to tears more than once. 

It’s late by the time he pays the bill and walks you home, which he’s learned is the building right above your shop. There aren’t many people out, and though he startled you when he took your hand in his, he continues to hold it the whole way back. You’ve gone quiet again, pensive, making him wonder if he’s done something wrong, or, worse, if you regret kissing him. 

You only started acting like this after he pressed his lips to yours, after he asked if it was life-changing for you like it was for him. 

He doesn’t know what else it could be, unless you figured out you just don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you. His heart drops into his stomach at the thought, his fingers subconsciously clenching around yours, making you glance up at him in concern. 

He stares forward resolutely, not ready to see confirmation of his fears in your gaze. 

By the time that big window and Anubis’s sleeping body come into view, Wonwoo has convinced himself that you feel nothing but friendship for him and simply don’t know how to say it. 

Still, he can’t help but try, one last time. 

“Do you think I could see you again before I go? I’ve got plenty of pictures and I fly out tomorrow night, so my day is clear.”

You take a second to think about it, your eyes shuttering as if you don’t want him to see the thoughts behind them, before you answer solemnly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, feeling like all the air has been pulled out of his lungs. “You don’t… think it’s a good idea. Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll just go, then.”

He can’t even make himself look at you, knowing that his mouth is pinched in the way it does when he’s trying not to cry. He squeezes your hand once more before disentangling his fingers from yours, taking a step back, and turning to walk away so you can’t see him lift up his glasses and rub at his burning eyes. 

He doesn’t get far before you call out his name. 

“Wonwoo! I… It’s because you’re leaving,” you sound as close to tears as he feels, your voice plaintive and fragile. 

He stops short and chews on his lip, swiping at his face with rough hands as your footsteps sound on the cobblestones. You let him stay where he is but he feels your fingers clench in the back of his shirt, like you’re afraid he’ll still walk away. 

That touch is enough for him to turn around, his hand catching yours as it falls and his heart stuttering at the sheen of tear tracks on your face. He brings his other hand up to brush his thumb under your eye, sweeping away a freshly fallen drop. 

“Is that why you said maybe, after I kissed you?” He asks in a gentle, low tone, less fearful of the answer now. 

“Yes. This has an expiration date, I don’t get to keep you. I couldn’t admit that just one kiss had me ready to sell my shop, buy a new cat carrier, and join you on the road,” you laugh softly in a self-deprecating way, avoiding his gaze again like you’re embarrassed. 

“Y/n, when I said it was life-changing for me, I meant it. As in, I would change my life for you. I can transfer to the Italian branch, go on shorter assignments, find a place here. You can keep me.”

“Wonwoo, I can’t ask you to do all that for me. I mean, we only met a few days ago, how do you know you won’t regret this?” You sound reluctant to accept his offer, but it seems to be coming from a place of worry for him instead of a lack of feeling, and he can work with that.

“I’ve been thinking about settling down anyway, I just needed a sign. Meeting you was that sign, and getting to know you like this has only made me more and more sure. Please, all you have to do is believe in me.”

Finally, you meet his eyes, searching them like you did when he asked you out, and once again, you find what you’re looking for. A watery smile stretches your lips as you step closer to him and up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your free arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug. 

His eyelids flutter shut, his arm vining around your waist and hauling you up against his body so you can feel his galloping heart. He presses his lips to the top of your head and breathes you in, finding your scent absolutely intoxicating. 

It’s fruity like pomegranate but sweet and floral too, reminding him of the lotus flowers he stumbled across in the southern Himalayas. There’s an underlying warmth, a natural musk that makes him wonder if you’re wearing perfume or if you just smell like this on your own. 

He doesn’t really care either way, not now that he has you so close, your joined hands coming up to rest against his shoulder and your body relaxing into his. You stay like that until his heart returns to a somewhat normal pace, before he pulls away just far enough to look down at you. He tugs his hand free so he can cup your face, whispering, “I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?” 

“Please do,” you whisper back, taking in a shuddering breath just before he locks his lips with yours. You sigh it out into his mouth and he swallows it like it’s a benediction, your tongue dragging against his as he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. 

He’s about to let out a groan when a wooden shutter bangs against the stone building above, a loud voice shouting, “Prendi una stanza!”

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” You break away to shout back, grinning at Wonwoo’s flaming cheeks. 

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” The shutter snaps closed again and Wonwoo bends over in a full body laugh, clutching his stomach as his abs flex with mirth. You’re not laughing like he is, but you are watching with affection and only the slightest bit of embarrassment. 

When he’s finally regained his composure, he straightens and wipes at his cheeks again, crying for a completely different reason than before. You smile up at him fondly, reaching out to fix his hair and asking, “Since you’re free tomorrow, do you want to come up for some coffee?”

Wonwoo doesn’t know if you’re really offering refreshments or if the coffee is a euphemism for something else, but either way, it’s an easy answer. 

“Of course I do.”

Anubis starts meowing as soon as you unlock the door to your shop, loping over on graceful paws and weaving between your feet. 

“You had your dinner, why are you shouting at me?” You ask as you crouch to pick him up, holding him like a baby and scratching at his stomach gently. 

“Maybe he missed you?”

You mull it over for a little bit, nodding your head in acceptance and admitting, “I don’t usually go out at night, so maybe he did.”

“Is that why your neighbor was fine with us making out as soon as he figured out it was you?” 

You lightly jab him in the stomach with your elbow and he pretends to be mortally wounded, stumbling and groaning dramatically as if he’d been hit with an arrow instead. 

He supposes he has been, but it was one of Cupid’s, not one of yours. 

Anubis twists out of your arms and you let him, locking the entrance to your store and leading Wonwoo to the back. You unlock one of the doors with a huff of exertion and a jiggle of the handle, turning to say, “Old building,” before pushing the door open and letting Anubis dart up the staircase in front of you. Wonwoo jerks the door closed and locks it with the key you hand him, following you up the stairs in near darkness. 

The room you lead him into is a bit smaller than your store, containing a compact kitchen and warm living room flanked by a wall with two doors. “Bathroom is on the right, if you need it.”

He slips off his shoes and excuses himself to freshen up, taking care of his business and washing his hands quickly. Chancing a look in the mirror, Wonwoo finds that he’s flushed, aglow with infatuation, his smile irrepressible and wider than ever. He almost can’t look himself in the eye, knowing that all he’d find is adoration for you, and perhaps a bit of nervousness. 

He doesn’t know what to expect now, doesn’t know if this is leading where he thinks it is or how to act in whatever case. But, not wanting to keep you waiting, he opens the door and shuts off the light, finding you sitting at your dining table with a full french press and two mugs in front of you. 

He wants to speed over but he strolls instead, trying to appear at least a little unaffected. That facade is broken when he stops a few feet from the table, suddenly unsure of whether he should sit next to you or opposite from you. 

Blessedly, you make the choice for him, sliding one mug across the table before smoothly depressing the plunger of the french press. 

The rich smell of coffee permeates the air as you gracefully pour, filling his cup with the steaming, dark liquid before filling yours. “Is black okay? I have sugar and oat milk, if you need them.”

“Black is great, thank you.”

He’s acclimated to the bitterness enough to appreciate the deeper notes, though it’s only because he was once too shy to ask for sugar. He sips carefully, wondering with a satisfied hum if this really is the best coffee he’s ever had or if he just thinks that because you made it for him. 

You fall into an easy chat, discussing pictures he took and customers you had while he was out and about, before you bite your lip and stare down into your coffee like it’ll give you strength. 

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something… personal?” 

Your eyes slowly return to his, and the heat in your gaze makes him want to pop open a few buttons on his shirt and fan himself.  

“Sure,” he says, with only a little trepidation. 

“What are you like in bed?”

Oh. 

Oh. You want to know what he’s like in bed. 

Have you thought about what he’s like in bed? Have you thought about being in bed with him? Have you thought about him and touched yours-

He should answer you before he lets himself get carried away.

“Um, I’m a little different, I suppose. I like to be more… dominant. Maybe a bit rougher than I may seem,” his voice is hushed, and he wants to look away from the intensity of your stare, but he finds he can’t. It’s like you’ve hypnotized him, entranced him with a single question. 

“Is there anything specific that you like?”

This conversation, he likes this conversation. A lot. He can feel his slacks tightening with it, his heart thumping far too hard to be healthy and his mind starting to offer up ideas so fast he can barely make sense of them. 

They’re mostly images, sensations, feelings, all modeled after you. 

“I like,” he begins slowly. “I like being in control. I think I’d like holding you down, making you take what I’m giving you. I like talking,” he chuckles wryly, before continuing.

“I like listening too. I wouldn’t want you to hold back, I’d want to hear every little noise I could pull out of you. And I think I’d really like using my hands first, making you cum until you cry. Or until you beg for my cock.”

You suck in a ragged breath and glance away before looking back at him. Finally, he can read you, desire obvious on your face and in the tight knuckled grip you have on your mug. 

You set it down cautiously, aware of the still scalding coffee inside, and push away from the table to stand. Wonwoo watches you walk around to his side, his gaze fighting to stay on your face and not on the way your dress moves over your thighs as you get closer and closer to him. 

You stop just a foot away, holding your hand out and waiting for him to take it with a slight air of impassioned impatience. He places his hand in yours and rises to his feet, valiantly ignoring the view of your breasts from this angle and following you when you turn and begin tugging him to the door on the left. 

“Are we done talking?” Wonwoo asks, exhilarated and aroused, his dick hardening so quickly it leaves him feeling dizzy. 

“Not even a little bit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and facing him again as you walk backwards towards your bed. 

He crosses the few steps between you, crowds you up to the edge of the bed and pushes you to lay down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. His hands won’t stay gentle for long, and he hopes you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me,” he whispers before leaning down and taking hold of your legs, pulling them apart and filling the space in between with his hips. 

“I will,” you gasp as he grinds against you, your dress pooled at the top of your thighs, just barely exposing your black panties. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.” 

I like everything you do. 

You don’t say it but he hears it anyway, the corner of his mouth lifting in a soft smirk before he braces his hands on either side of your head and moves in close. He doesn’t kiss you yet, just watches the way your eyelids flutter shut and your lips pout in preparation. You peek an eye open when he continues to hold himself away from you, your hand rising to cup his neck and attempt to tug him down to you. 

The second your fingers come into contact with him, he shifts his weight to one hand and grips your wrist with the other, pushing it down to the bed and holding it there. You bite back a smile, wriggle beneath him to get more comfortable, and drape your other hand above your head. 

That, he likes, and he rewards you by releasing your wrist and dragging his fingers up your inner thigh instead, digging them into the warm, soft flesh and groaning when he comes into contact with your panties. They’re soaking, so much wetter than he expected, and when he cups his big, cold hand over the seat of them, you shiver and buck up into his touch. 

“How long has it been for you?” Wonwoo asks, as if it hasn’t been literal years for him. 

“Um, a while, it’s been… a while,” you admit, seemingly shy for the first time. He should reassure you, but he likes the way you shrink beneath him, likes even more the thought of being your first in however long. He plans on being your last for the foreseeable future, so it’s only right he’s the one to break your dry spell. 

“Good,” he grins wickedly down at you, pulling your panties to the side and letting his fingers glide through your arousal. You’re soft, and sopping wet, and hot, so fucking hot, just for him, and already he’s wondering if he’ll be able to make good on his words.

If he’ll be able to hold himself back from you long enough to make you beg for it. 

He’ll do his best though, for you, and that starts with not grinding himself into your thigh. He needs to forget about his own pleasure, focus solely on yours, or he’ll be balls deep inside you before he’s even made you cum once. 

That won’t do, not when he wants you writhing on his fingers and pleading for his cock. 

So he pulls his hips away from you and tucks the tip of one digit into your entrance, sliding it in slowly enough that your face crumples in impatience, a low whine escaping you when he just leaves it there and drags his thumb over your clit. 

He wants to take his time, wants to learn you with his hands and his teeth and his tongue, wants to catalog your reactions and be able to take you apart diligently, passionately, like you deserve. 

This teaches him that you don’t like to be teased, and he decides to shelve the idea of edging for another day. He’ll go with overstimulation instead, he thinks, working another finger inside and rubbing more firmly with his thumb. Your face relaxes, your mouth opening on a sigh, and Wonwoo can’t resist leaning down to suck at your plump bottom lip as he curls his fingers inside of you, not yet searching for the spot that will make you gush for him. 

He’ll find it when he’s ready, when he feels like he’s built you up enough, and then he’ll use it to push you over the edge as many times as you can take. For now, he’ll savor the taste of your noises and start stretching out your perfect cunt. 

He pulls away from your mouth, fully aware that he could get lost in your kiss and intent on talking to you more before he lets that happen. 

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You know that, don’t you? You know how your cunt hugs them, sucks them in deeper and deeper, because you touch yourself, right?” 

You nod and Wonwoo allows it, won’t make you follow all of his rules until next time, until he’s sure you can handle it. 

“Did you touch yourself for me that night? After we met?” He asks softly, rewarding you with a tap right into your sweet spot when you cry out, “Yes!” 

“Did you say my name when you came?” His fingers pick up speed inside of you, fucking in and out to the beat of his own pounding heart. 

“Yes, Wonwoo,” you whimper, your hands twisting in the sheets above your head and your eyes squeezing shut before he pulls his fingers out and lands a wet smack on your inner thigh. You gasp and try to close your legs but Wonwoo is stronger than you, holds them open with both hands before leaning in close to kiss the stinging skin and say, “Keep your eyes on me.”

You nod tearily, holding his gaze as he sinks his fingers back inside of you and hovers close enough to your pussy that he’s sure you can feel his breath. He quirks his fingers up just as his tongue makes contact with your clit, and the way your lashes flutter but don’t fall brings a proud smirk to his face. 

“You’re a good listener, aren’t you?” He murmurs into your cunt. You start to answer but then he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and you shudder out a moan instead. The sound sends electricity zipping down his spine and straight into his cock, making it throb for you in his slacks. 

He ignores it, shifting to rest on his knees and sucking harder, grinding his fingertips up into your front wall so he can draw that same sound out of you again. He told you before that he wanted to hear every little noise he could pull from you, and he meant it, including noises that don’t come from your mouth. 

You’re getting so wet, he can hear it, his fingers squelching inside of you with every thrust, every curl. He doesn’t remember his past partners being so aroused, and he’s already obsessed, already dead set on making you fucking drench him. 

He knows all he needs to do is make you cum and you’ll give him exactly what he wants, so he taps into your g-spot with more force, fucking his fingers into you hard and fast until your cries reach a fever pitch and your back arches. He doesn’t stop, dragging you through your orgasm and pushing you further even as your cunt ripples and squeezes around his fingers, the sensation so intense he almost feels the phantom pulse of you around his dick, too. 

It makes him groan, a deep, dark sound muffled by your pussy, and that seems to be what sends you careening over the edge again, your thighs attempting to clamp shut around him. He lightly smacks one with his free hand, gripping the soft fat and pushing it up and out so he has enough room to work. The other settles on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind that, likes the weight of it, wants you to feel stable and secure as he takes you apart piece by piece. 

You’re writhing on his hand, just like he wanted, your gaze teary and nearly empty, like your beautiful brain is focused on him and him alone, and ohhhh, he likes that, he likes that a lot. He wants to wreck you, wants to leave you with nothing in your head but thoughts of him and when he’ll make you break again. 

He doesn’t know if you can, but he’s desperate to see you flood him, to make you squirt all over him, regardless of the fact that this shirt is dry clean only. He’ll scrub it out in the sink if he has to, doesn’t care what happens to the fibers if it means he can make you cum hard enough to ruin them. 

You’re getting close again, he thinks with lurid satisfaction, his hand a blur between your thighs. He pulls away to murmur, “Hold your leg for me,” waiting for understanding to spark in your eyes. You wrap your hand beneath your knee and manage a wobbly smile, and Wonwoo feels affection burst in his chest like a firework, his lips curving in response as he brings his now free hand to your cunt. 

His fingers push at the crest of your pussy, exposing your swollen clit for his thumb to cover, the pad of it pressing down and rubbing harsh circles. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes water, your mouth stuck open on a needy moan that grows louder with every tap of your g-spot. It’s a whine soon enough, one that hitches in your throat as he fucks you with his fingers, and when he grinds his fingertips deep into you, he sees alarm grow in your eyes. 

You try to warn him but you can’t seem to speak, only blubbers of his name gracing his ears, making him grin ferally and say, “Don’t worry, baby, I want it to happen. I want you to fucking soak me, now.”

He honestly didn’t expect that to work but apparently, you can cum on command, or, as he tells himself, on his command, because you suck in a deep breath and keen for him. Your cunt flutters wildly around his fingers, clenching down on them and sucking them in before tightening to the point that he can’t move them, his fingertips locked into your sweet spot as you fucking gush. 

He can feel it spraying out onto his face and dampening his button down, arousal flowing out of you like a rushing river, making him groan out, “Fuck yes, just like that.” 

His voice is gravelly and low, desire deepening its pitch, and you shiver above him, though that may have more to do with the thumb still strumming your clit and the fingers still plugging you up. 

He could go again but he doesn’t want to push you too far this first night, doesn’t know where your limits lay or if you’re ready for him to find out for himself, so when your walls finally release his fingers, he slowly pulls them out and gently cups your pussy to help you calm down. 

He’s surprised when you speak, and even more shocked that it’s enough to make him laugh out loud. 

“All that and you didn’t even take my dress off,” you mumble, letting go of your thigh and reaching down to drift a hand over his hair, petting him like he’s an animal you’ve domesticated. 

Maybe he is, and maybe you have. You’re the only one that’s ever made him want to stay, to plant roots, to be domestic. 

Fondly, he says, “I did that on purpose. Now whenever you wear it, you’ll think about me.”

“I don’t need the dress to think about you, Wonwoo, I promise you that,” you hum, letting your eyes slip closed and missing the way his gaze fills with infatuation as he rests his cheek on your thigh and wraps his hands around your ankles. 

His glasses are splattered with you and so is the rest of him, his cock is hard and aching and leaky, and his knees are all but decimated from kneeling on your wood floor for so long, but Wonwoo has never been happier in his life. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

His brows raise in disbelief, his fingers twitching on your legs, and he stands as quickly as he can manage, bracing one hand beside your head and taking hold of your chin with the other. You blink open your eyes to look at him, the haze in them just a bit clearer, though he’s sure your thoughts are still clouded with pleasure. 

“You still want me?” He asks in full seriousness, his dick pulsing at the thought of feeling your flawless cunt wrapped around it. 

“Yeah, you gonna make me beg?” You murmur, your gaze just a touch defiant. 

He wants to fuck that rebelliousness out of you. 

“I said I’d like to, didn’t I?” He responds slowly, greed simmering in his veins and surely obvious on his face. 

Your eyes narrow before you visibly collect yourself, finding that submissive side you seemed to lean into before. He watches as you let it take over, shrinking beneath him somehow, the expression on your face needy and compliant.

“Please Wonwoo, please give me your cock. I’ve thought about it since we met, since I noticed how built you were under that soaking white shirt. Your shoulders are so broad and your hands are so big and you’re so much taller than me. All I wanted was for you to pin me down and fuck me however you liked, and that’s still all I want.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, carefully concealing how fucking wild your words make him feel. He needs to maintain this illusion of control or you’ll gain the upper hand, and he can’t let that happen. He’s already going to give you exactly what you want, he’ll die before he lets you be smug about it too. 

It takes everything in him but he manages to pull away, releasing your chin and standing at his full height, a smirk rising at the way your hands leave their place above your head to cling to him. 

“Get up. Take your dress off,” he commands stoically, backing up and giving you space to push off the bed onto your feet. Your hands tremble as you reach for the hem, and in a brief moment of tenderness, he covers them with his and lifts it with you, laughing and helping you wrench it off when it gets stuck at the elbows. 

He stops laughing when you fling the dress onto the chair in the corner of your room and stare up at him, clad in just your skewed panties and a little bitten off grin. His eyes fall to your breasts, the shape and weight of them immaculate, just begging for his mouth. He fully plans on worshiping them at the next possible opportunity, but he’s got a different goal in mind now. His hands gravitate to your hips, fingertips tucking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down before returning to push you gently toward the bed. 

“Lay down for me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know why he’s being soft on you now. He’s still hard enough to cut glass but something in him just can’t be harsh when he feels like he does about you, especially after you already took what he gave you so well. Maybe it’s the vulnerable look in your eyes, maybe it’s the way his heart feels three sizes too big for his chest. 

But maybe it’s because when he looks back on your first time together, he doesn’t want it to look like his previous encounters. He wants it to look like a couple that loves each other, that knows they want to be together, that will make sacrifices for each other. 

Obviously, dominating you can still look like that, but right now his soul aches to be gentle with you. Emotionally, at least. 

He’s still going to fuck you into your mattress, he’ll just be kinder about it. 

You can tell that something has shifted in him and somehow it makes you even more pliant, your face open as you patiently wait for his next instruction. He doesn’t give one yet, reaching up to take his glasses off and wipe away the drying release with the edge of his button down before setting them on your night stand. 

He works on getting naked, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, carelessly letting it float down to the floor as he undoes his pants. He removes his socks next, pairing them up and dropping them to the side before pushing down his boxer briefs. 

It occurs to him that you haven’t talked about safety at all, and as he climbs over you, his thick, leaking dick dragging against your skin, he asks, “Do we need a condom?”

You swear under your breath and look down, biting your lip before whispering, “I’m not on birth control, and I have condoms but I honestly don’t think they’ll fit you. Do you have any?” 

He swears too, remembering the expired one in his wallet and sighing, “Not one that we could use. I get tested regularly and I’m negative for everything, but what do you wanna do?” 

“Um, well… I haven’t had sex since I last got tested and everything was clear, so what if you pull out? I track my cycle and I’m not ovulating right now.”

It’s risky, and sex without a condom isn’t something Wonwoo’s ever had, but he wants you more than anything, and he believes in his ability to honor your wishes and pull out when he needs to. 

“Let’s do that this one time, and I’ll get condoms for the future,” he agrees, smiling at the way your eyes get brighter when he says ‘future’. 

He settles back into his role seamlessly, though this time, he’s less domineering and more caring, to be sure. Your legs are already spread for him, but he slips his hands under your knees and tucks them up to your chest, resting your calves on his shoulders and setting one hand on the bed to hold himself up. 

The other reaches for his dick, and he fights back a shiver at the chill of his own touch, his perpetually cold hands freezing compared to his searing hot cock. He can’t help but lay it over your pussy, feeling his ears and the back of his neck tingle with a blush when he estimates where he’ll end inside of you. 

You squirm beneath him and he brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling his hips back enough to notch the head of his dick in your entrance before starting to push inside. You’re tight like this, all folded up, but your walls part to welcome him like he’s a missing piece of you, like he’s always been meant to fill you up when you’re empty. 

He moves slowly, not to tease you but to savor you, luxuriating in the feeling of your velvet heat, your perfect cunt as it forms around him. It could be minutes or hours before he bottoms out, but when he does, he almost can’t think, he’s so consumed by sensation. 

He closed his eyes without realizing it, and now he forces them open, only to find you already staring up at him, your gaze unwavering and your hands coming up to hold his where they push at your thighs. 

You seem breathless, and it’s probably partly due to the position but Wonwoo prefers to think it’s because you’re as overwhelmed as he is, so wrought with pleasure that it toes the line of pain. 

You’re still shorter than him, even like this, so he has to curve down to kiss you but it’s worth it because you bloom for him, moaning into his mouth and clenching around his cock when he glides his tongue against yours. With your lips still pressed to his, he draws his hips back a few inches, enough to feel air cling to the wetness on his cock, before thrusting inside sharply. His hips meet your ass with a loud smack, the only other noise in the room being your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his lips moving against yours. 

Again, he pulls out, almost to the tip this time, and sends his hips forward, grunting at the feeling of your cunt embracing him. It’s perfection, you’re perfection, and he resolves to be nothing but perfect for you too. 

He swallows your sounds and categorizes them; you whimper when he pulls out far and thrusts in deep, moan when he just grinds himself into you, yelp when he fucks you with sharp, fast bucks of his hips. He follows their lead like he’s untying a knot or working through a maze, methodically dismantling you down to your nuts and bolts. 

You’re barely kissing him back when he finally derives the best combination of pace and depth, your lips quivering against his as you whine continuously, the pitch rising every time he reaches the end of you. Your eyes are open but they’re glazed over, and he can’t tell if he’s fucked you dumb or fucked you to tears but either way, it makes his lips stretch in a vicious grin. 

He loves kissing you but that’s not what’s happening anymore, so he pulls away and puts more of his weight on your thighs, using the leverage to fuck into you harder. He doesn’t go faster, knowing that if he does, this will end far sooner than he wants it to. 

He’d like to draw at least one more orgasm from you before he cums, and he can’t do that if he’s got even more friction on his cock. He’s a little surprised there is any with how wet you are, but you’re perfectly matched to his size so your walls grasp him tight every time he pulls back, the drag of them flawless on his sensitive skin. 

Your sounds are louder now that he’s not muffling them with his mouth, melodic in his ears and something he knows he’ll reproduce in his mind again and again, whenever he’s away from you and feeling particularly lonely. 

He’ll have to cut down on his traveling now that he’s got you, but that doesn’t scare him like it used to. Instead, he’s excited to have someone who makes him want to stay and build a home, build a life. He kind of feels like this is the first step, making you his and giving himself to you in return, and it’s enough to make his cock twitch and leak just a little bit of precum inside of you. 

He takes that for the warning it is, consciously veering away from thoughts of domesticity and belonging before dedicating the whole of his body to making you cum. He pushes away from you to sit up on his knees and haul your ass into his lap, your calves still resting on his shoulders and his dick just barely inside of you. 

He angles his hips and thrusts back in shallowly, no longer hitting as deep but aiming the head of his cock at that innervated patch inside of you. Your eyes grow wide and you suck in a deep gasp, your fingers clenching around his where they hold your legs, your reaction letting him know he’s got you. 

He fucks into that spot relentlessly, wondering if he can make you cum with just his cock. He stimulated your clit before too but you feel like you’re getting close, and he doesn’t want to change something trying to help only to hinder you instead. 

He doesn’t have much time to think before you’re crying out his name urgently, your tone plaintive and your voice thin. It sounds like you’re right on the edge, looks like it too, your brows screwed up in pleasure and your eyes bright with bliss. He’s almost as close as you are, his orgasm spooled up at the base of his spine and ticking like a time bomb, just waiting for him to let himself go. 

“Cum, baby,” he pants, hoping beyond hope that you’ll listen and obey just one more time. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on, prays that he’ll be able to endure the euphoria your climax will bring, that he won’t have to ruin it by pulling out while you’re deep in its thrall. 

But you do listen, thank fuck, you do, your eyes rolling back and your cunt clamping down on him in a vise grip, the sheer heat and wetness of you enough to pull a strangled groan from deep in his throat. It takes everything in him not to cum with you, the feeling incredible and the sight just as glorious, the impact of both beyond the realm of imagination. 

He lasts just long enough to get you through your aftershocks, his chest heaving for air as he makes himself pull out of the eden of your cunt. Blood rushes in his ears and fluffy cotton candy fills his head, his thoughts no more than paper airplanes gliding on a warm breeze. He watches his cum cover your perfect tits in white stripes, feeling as if he’s out of his body and out of his mind. 

Your hands squeeze his and you breathe his name, slowly pulling him back to you, like he’s a balloon that’s floated away and you’ve miraculously caught his string. You’re blurry in his vision and he can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t have his glasses on or if he’s just crying, but either way he releases your legs and leans in close to see you better. 

You cup his cheeks and pull him into a soft kiss, the soothing, reassuring pressure bringing him back down to earth, back to you. He should be the one taking care of you right now, but he feels like he’s been cracked open, his soul and his heart bare, unprotected. 

“You’re okay,” you whisper, petting his cheekbones with your thumbs, and that’s what restarts him. 

He presses his lips to yours ardently, gathering up all of his feelings and pouring them into you, the intensity drawing a gentle sigh that travels from your mouth to his. He breathes it in before pulling away and focusing on you.

Lying down next to you, he pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky cum that smears on his chest when your breasts press against him. He holds you for a while, until his heartbeat feels close to normal and his head feels close to clear. He’s about to drift off when he remembers how dirty you both still are.

“Do you want to shower?” He asks in a low voice, grinning at the way your face scrunches in displeasure at the thought before you look up at him and respond, “Are we going to fuck again tonight?” 

He thinks on it for a moment, weighing options and offering his opinion, “I don’t want to tempt fate too many times, so I think we should just go to sleep for now and go out for condoms and Plan B tomorrow morning. Then I’ll fuck you all day, if you want.” 

You smile serenely and nod, your eyes already half lidded with exhaustion. 

“Does that mean you do want to shower, then?” He confirms, his fingers drumming on your bare back. 

“Yeah,” you pout, obviously reluctant to get up and get clean. 

“I’ll go start it and come get you when it’s warm. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do all the work,” he promises you, grinning when your pout stretches into a pleased little smile. 

He climbs out from under you and off the bed, walking on shaky knees to the bathroom, his soft cock hanging between his legs. He wonders if you have a washer, his shirt and boxers are not usable in their current state, but he can just use the sink if he needs to. He’ll have to go back to his hotel sometime tomorrow, to change and gather his things for his flight back home, and he’s already dreading the idea of it. 

It would be nice if he could get his film camera, maybe take a few pictures of you to tide him over until his transfer is finalized and he can find an apartment here. He feels like you’d be up for that, imagines photographing you in all kinds of positions and varying states of undress, safe in the knowledge that he can rent a darkroom and develop them himself. 

He struggles for a minute but figures out your shower eventually, turning it on and standing by until steam gathers on the mirror. He catches a glance at himself just before it fogs over, blushing at the image staring back at him. 

His lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed with exertion and joy, his eyes luminous for what feels like the first time in years. You’ve made your mark on him, tattooed him in gold, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same. 

That’s not something he minds. He even finds himself smiling at the idea of rearranging his pieces to fit with yours, of making space in his life for you and Anubis to fill. 

When he leaves the bathroom to get you, the cat is laying on the dining table, sprawled out with his eyes closed, and Wonwoo breathes a sigh of relief. If he’s being honest, he forgot entirely that there was another being in this apartment, and he’s glad your activities didn’t seem to disturb him. 

He wants to smooth a hand down Anubis’s side but doesn’t want to wake him, so he stares at the cat for just a second longer before turning to your bedroom and poking his head through the door frame. 

You’re starfishing on the bed, his cum mostly dry on your tits and your eyes gently shut, and he can’t contain the laugh that bubbles out of his chest. 

Like mother, like son.

Wonwoo draws in a deep, centering breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, grateful not for the first time that he’s in the city of love. 

This will be the first proposal he’s photographed today, the third this week, and for someone who’s always thought he didn’t mind love, he finds himself unbelievably excited. 

He calls your name, watches dust motes float through a shining sunbeam as you stir in the bed you share, your tired gaze finding him before it lands on the book beside you. Or, more accurately, on the ring sitting on the book beside you. 

You draw in a sharp gasp, your eyes flying to his, and he depresses the shutter button just as your face breaks into a beam bright enough to rival a supernova. 

He thinks this will be his favorite photograph yet. 

AN: And the book was titled April Shower and it contains your love story as written by your best friend, the end 💖

“Prendi una stanza!” - "Get a room!"

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” - "It's the city of love, Stefano, give us a break!"

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” - "Y/n? Carry on, dear!"

My Masterlist

[luvelve]

ODE TO A CONVERSATION (STUCK IN YOUR THROAT) - c.sc

Everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. Easier than with anyone else, anyway.  (and it hits me — i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do, like i do, like me. is it okay? that i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do.)

pairing; choi seungcheol x fem!reader.  genre; smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) with a little bit of plot. friends-ish to lovers to (healthy) exes to fwb to -- warnings; writing early parts of this felt low-key pretentious but it was kinda on purpose because i was trying something stylistic and outside my normal?? so??? but on a real: swearing. alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk at the time of having sex). reader is written to be wearing makeup. it's kinda just filth. proof read but all the words just melted together eventually (if i missed a typo, no i didn't <3) smut warnings under the cut! w/c; 6k. a/n; del water gap’s ode to a conversation stuck in your throat was my most listened to song last year. i now can’t listen to it without thinking about s.coups (i also just point blank can't stop thinking about s.coups) -- enjoy x

smut warnings: big! dick! seungcheol!, making out, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected p-in-v sex (make good choices), lil bit of edging if u squint, overstimulation if u tilt ur head like 82º to the left, manhandling, soft-ish dom!cheol, lotta praise, use of pet names (babe, baby good girl, my girl, sweetheart), kinda possessive!cheol, jealous!cheol, biting and marking (hickeys, digging nails in), light light light light light crying/dacryphilia (not really, like there are Some tears in eyes but just to be safe ig)

Everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. 

Easier than with anyone else, anyway. 

You’d known him in passing for a long time before anything happened. A friend of a friend — someone you always smiled at and chatted with at social events, because he was easy to smile at, and so very easy to chat to. You can’t even remember which birthday or New Year’s party or Halloween bash or Saturday night jamboree was the first: they’ve since all just dissolved into one pleasantly foggy memory, and every time you saw him thereafter he made you feel so comfortable, so at home that it felt like the hundredth.

And it continued that way for a few years. Pleasantries exchanged in friends' kitchens, conversations across beer-garden tables. Catching up on each other's lives in a hallway outside the bathroom for handfuls of minutes at a time before one of you inevitably got tugged away by the friend you were waiting for. You were comfortable with him, around him: he just had that kind of energy. So on a big group night out one evening, when you found yourself feeling a little uncomfortable being flirted with by someone you had never met, you instinctively flashed Seungcheol a look from across the bar. He came straight over and immediately to your rescue; with him slipping all too naturally into the fake role of your unimpressed significant other, you realised that it was easy to be whisked away under his arm, easy to let him buy you your next drink, easy to let him kiss you breathless just to really drive the pretend point home. 

Staring up at him after, feeling his drink-chilled hands cupping your cheeks, watching his gaze flicker between your lips and your eyes, you realised that igniting a spark had never felt so…

And it was easy to kiss him again later that night under the influence of a little too much wine and blanketed by a couple of lowered inhibitions. It was easy to giggle into the crook of his neck as he leaned against a stone wall, trailing his fingers up and down your arms, rambling about how he wanted to kiss you again and again and again and forever, maybe, because he thought your smile was beautiful and your lips were so soft and you tasted like cherries, and he liked cherries, and if you could kiss him every day he’d never have a reason to be unhappy ever again. It was so fucking easy to fumble in your purse for your phone, to let him put in his number, and when he asked you if he could take you out for dinner, when he messily typed a text message out begging the same question and sent it to you (‘so we both remember, tomorrow’), it was so, so easy to say yes. 

Then, the first date? It was beyond easy. You talked and talked and laughed and laughed, each of you having a few cocktails with your food, never running short of conversation, never not finding little ways to touch each other both under and over the table. Arranging the second, and then the third, and inviting him up for a coffee after date number five was easy, and falling into bed with him was easy. Holding him close, your sweat-slicked bodies moving as one entity in the dark: it was easy, and the pillow-talk after about what this growing thing between you was, came so damn…

So you introduced him to your parents, and your other friends, and in turn he did the same with you. Two and a half years breezed by, then, and even the hard parts… Even the arguing and time spent away from one-another, whether he was sleeping out on your couch following an emotionally charged spat or trips taken as part of his job demanded he spend weeks at a time without you. The hard parts? By comparison to everyone before him, they were easy. Anniversaries and birthdays and Valentine’s days: he spoiled you, and you doted on him, and being together was just so–…

Even the day you decided to end your romantic pursuit, while impassioned, wasn’t hard. In part, maybe it was because it was a long time coming: you still loved each other deeply but your lives were so chaotic and different, and it wasn’t fair to keep waiting around for each other when it just clearly wasn’t your time. And in part, because he was so calm in how he held your hand tightly in his (even when he dried your tears), how he kissed your forehead, in how he told you that you deserved more than the life he could give you. And at the end of it all, when he promised to always be there for you, naturally you promised the same back. 

Keeping that promise? Well. It was easy. 

So what if it took a few weeks for things to feel sort of normal? If you had to remember how to greet him without offering your lips for a kiss or your arms for a hug? If you had to get used to sleeping alone, and waking up alone, all over again? The thing that mattered was that he was still in your life, and you were still in his: your relationship wasn’t broken, it was just different, and once the little transition period was over, once you were both used to your new normal… Being ‘just friends’ was kind of easy. 

(Kind of, being the operative phrase.)

Six months post split, you mentioned to him in passing that you were going on a date the following day. As soon as you realised what you’d said, you regretted bringing it up, but without missing a beat Seungcheol lowered his drink and raised an eyebrow at you, excitedly asking you to tell him everything. The person’s name, what they were like, how you met them, where you were going. He didn’t feel like your ex-boyfriend, then and there: he felt like a best friend. So you told him every detail, and he listened intently, following up by requesting you text him when you got to the date and again when you got home so he knew you were safe. Of course, you said that you would. First, because it was sensible. Second, his requests were easy enough.  

And the date went okay, all things considered: the guy was nice, if a little bit awkward, and you had a good time bowling with him and playing some games in the old arcade, but there just wasn’t a spark. Everything felt difficult. Forced. So when he was the one to say to you after that he’d had a nice evening but felt that maybe you should just be friends, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. Letting out a breath and giving a genuine smile, you agreed, thanking him for his refreshing candour, before bidding him good night and making your way back to your car. 

You held your phone between your fingertips for a while as the engine ran and the heating started to kick in, slowly warming you from the outside, in. As you thawed, you bit the inside of your cheek absentmindedly, a potentially questionable decision planting itself in your mind. Your body didn’t mind how good of an idea your brain thought it was, though. Your fingers moved entirely of their own accord; finding and pressing Seungcheol’s contact name was so starkly different to everything else had been, all damn night. It was easy. His sleep-roughened voice drifting down the phone sounded so easy. Asking if he minded you swinging by his place for a coffee and a debrief felt easy.

Two hours later, writhing on his mattress, two orgasms deep with his head still buried between your thighs and one of his hands groping at your tit as if his life depended on it?

Fucking. Easy.

So then, started the pattern. Waking up the next morning absolutely swimming in one of his oversized t-shirts should’ve felt like guilt and a betrayal of all your self-growth, of your moving on, of your friendship. It should’ve felt uncomfortable and gross and maybe a little panic-inducing, but it never did. It was warm and cosy, it was familiar and comforting, and when he greeted you ‘good morning’ with a pillow to the face, you knew that nothing was ruined; rather, this was just another new difference to your ever-changing relationship with him. Waking up this way… Well, it felt—

Look, you’re only human. You both have needs. After spending two and a half years learning each other's bodies, being together in that way again came so, so… 

After every date gone wrong, after every stressful week at work, in the midst of every family drama and friendship breakdown, you found yourself seeking respite in his apartment, between his bedsheets. In his tongue lapping at your pussy; in the head of his cock bruising the back of your throat until he spilled his release into your mouth; in the slow, deep, precise thrusts of his hips as he buried himself inside you over and over and over and over, taking your mind off the stress and concentrating only on making you feel good, on helping you forget everyone and everything else–… 

And now?

Well, now, you’re on your way back from yet another miserable date.

About three months ago, you stopped even considering giving the taxi drivers directions to your own place. Now, when you slide into the backseat, you automatically reel off the address you always end up at after a night like this. When your dates only talk about themselves, or say something so wildly out of pocket that it makes your toes curl (and not in a good way), or exclusively go on and on and on about their ‘crazy’ ex partner, you’ve grown all too used to showing up pouting at your friend’s front door. 

What? 

Being greeted by his knowing smirk and him inviting you inside is familiar; stepping across the threshold and kicking off your shoes in the hallway feels just so… easy.

Flopping down on the couch is easy, and waiting for Seungcheol to come back into the living room with two gleaming glasses and a bottle of wine is easy. Shuffling closer until you have your head resting against his shoulder is easy. Sipping at a chilled glass of rosé with his arm around you, the tip of his finger rubbing tiny circles against the point of your shoulder, eyes fluttering at this perfectly normal, totally platonic, absolutely-not-leading-anywhere-this-time contact is…

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks a few seconds after you set your now half-empty glass down. Your lips curl a little into a grimace on one side and a soft laugh rumbles deep in his chest.

You swear you can feel it vibrate all the way down to your bones.

“What is there to even talk about?” you sigh. “He wouldn’t stop comparing me to his mother, strike one. Spent twenty minutes explaining the plot of my favourite movie back to me, strike two. And then, after all that, threw a tantrum when I swerved his kiss goodbye after he’d eaten basically a whole loaf of garlic bread. Strike three. You’re out.”

He laughs again, and you adjust your head to peer up at him but he isn’t looking at you. He’s staring off at the opposite wall, not even glancing down when his arm tightens to pull you even closer. On cue, you nuzzle your head down into the muscle beneath his t-shirt, and you sigh. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask. 

“Nothing,” he says breezily. “Just… You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“I don’t deliberately go out with people one screw short of a toolbox, Cheol,” you grumble, lightly slapping his chest. “They always seem fine when we start talking.”

“Mhm,” he hums. You feel him move slightly and then his lips are being pressed to the part of your hair. You’re sure it’s supposed to be a little condescending, but it kind of tingles instead. But that’s just because of the way his breaths play over your roots. Isn’t it? “I know.”

“Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to find someone who—”

“Hey, I know, y/n,” he says again, still softly but just a little firmer this time. “It’s not your fault all these guys are dicks. But-…”

He trails off, tongue pressed lightly against his top teeth, and decides that maybe finishing this sentence isn’t the smart way to proceed. You wait a few seconds, just in case he changes his mind, and poke at his chest again when he doesn’t. 

“But what?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It was a stupid joke. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me,” you whine. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

It’s his turn to sigh, now. “But…” he starts, pausing for a mixture of allowing his nerves to settle and for dramatic effect. “I’m not complaining: the worse your date goes, the better sex we have after.”

It momentarily stuns you into silence and you suck your teeth at the remark, shaking your head. But you don’t sit up, you don’t shove him away, you don’t argue the point he’s just made whether it was a joke or not. Because…

“I hate that you’re right.”

His hand slides down behind you until it’s wrapped around your waist, his bicep strong against your back and his fingers light as they fiddle with the fabric of your blouse. 

“No you don’t,” he tells you, lips tweaking up on one side. 

You sigh, burrowing closer into his chest. He’s wearing the cologne he knows you like most and it smells faint, worn, as if he’s had it on for hours, all despite being only dressed in basketball shorts and a white vest. His plans tonight started and ended with you, and showing up here wasn’t promised until you were on his doorstep. Something about knowing he wore it just in case triggers an all too familiar ache between your legs.

Giving in to it?

Ha. 

It’s too fucking easy.

“Shut up,” you grumble. Your hand uncurls and your fingers splay over his chest, confessing your agreement and laying the foundations for you even if you deny what you want out loud. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh?” He asks at the exact moment you can feel his nails graze at your skin beneath your shirt. “Do you really?”

“Yeah.” You shift slightly, searching for just a crumb of relief from the press of your thighs, but it never comes. 

“I see.” He flattens his palm against your side, the other hand tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes not quite meeting yours as they fixate on the strands already sliding back to their former place against your cheek. 

He gently clears his throat, tongue darting out over his lips for the most fleeting of moments, and when he speaks again, it’s lower, quieter, softer. “But if you hate it sooo much…” he ducks his head, close enough that his lips brush the corner of your mouth as he moves them. “Why are you here?”

He bumps the tip of his nose against your cheek, subtly turning your face so if you so much as shuffle, hiccup, breathe in too deeply, your smiles would meet. But they don’t. A hair’s breadth apart, you linger, eyes meeting his in a scorching challenge. One he doesn’t back down from. One he holds, and holds, and holds – waiting, for you, for his answer.

“Because,” you croak. Your throat feels dry, your eyelids suddenly heavy, lashes fluttering. 

“Because?” he taunts, his chuckled exhale tickling the tiny hairs all over your skin. 

You maintain his gaze still, and he chuckles, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. when you don’t speak for a few seconds more, he takes it upon himself to finish the sentence for you.

“Because you know,” he drawls, gravelly but still somehow heaven-sent and honey-sweet. “That no-one else does it for you the same way I do. Do they?”

You shake your head, the muscles in your neck tight as you wrestle with them not to surge forward and topple against him in a kiss. Seungcheol is an easily pleased man, but you know he loves a bit of a chase and it would be a little rude not to reward his hospitality by giving him one. 

“Say it,” he urges. You’re acutely aware of how his breaths stop fanning against your face once the words are out of his mouth, but you don’t give him anything yet. “Come on. You could have any one of those idiots if you wanted them, but you don’t.” A pause. “Do you?”

You swallow hard, cheeks growing hot. You shake your head again, “No.”

“Because…”

And after one, two, three, four, five thundering beats of your heart—

“Because I want you.”

Seungcheol smirks as he pulls your chin up, finally bringing his plush lips down against your own. It’s soft. almost tender. Barely moving — just a press, but it sends waves of energy through you anyway. 

“You’ve got me,” he says, pulling back an inch, studying your desperate eyes with his own. “Always gonna have me.”

And suddenly, it’s like his entire world might stop if he lets you go.

Both of his hands cup your cheeks as you shift up onto your knees, your own fingers grasping for dear life at his vest. He kisses you as if he could swallow you whole: hard and deep, breathing hot through his nose as his tongue works its way into your mouth and finds your own. You groan, and hearing the sound draws one out of him, too. There’s just something about kissing Seungcheol, and being kissed by him: you don’t even have to think. He just does. You just do. It’s easy.

His hands find the bottom of your shirt and he pulls upwards, separating from your lips to pull it over your head and toss it haphazardly towards the floor. He reconnects with you almost immediately, hands sliding down from your face to your exposed neck, to your shoulders, toying with the strap of your bra.

“You wear this for me, or him?” he asks, breathing heavily as he looks down at your covered tits, the red and white garment sitting pretty against your skin.

“Who d’you think?” you ask, equally fighting to gasp air into your lungs. 

“Better not have been for fuckin’... Captain mommy issues,” he mutters, kissing you hard one more time before his lips attach to the side of your neck. “Never liked the sound of that guy. Thought you were too good for him.”

“S’that right?” You ask, tilting your head back and stuttering out a sigh, lacing it with wisps of a laugh. “You never said so.”

He sucks your skin into his mouth and you swear you can feel every capillary beneath the surface burst one by one, your body-heat climbing to almost unbearable territory. “You were excited,” he says. “Just ‘cause I don't agree with your choices, doesn’t mean I’m gonna be an ass about it.”

And for someone trying their best to cover your throat in as many bruises as possible (no doubt so that if you bump into the asshole from HR who took you out tonight when you’re back at work on Monday, he’ll see that you had a plenty good time without him), it… feels kind of sweet that he’d hold himself back in the name of your theoretical happiness.

“Too good to me,” you chuckle. You’ve long since released your hold on his vest and are now threading your fingers through his hair. He kisses and sucks down over your collarbone, grinning against your skin all the while. 

“So?” he asks, tugging the top of your bra in between his teeth.

You glance down at him, biting your bottom lip at the sight. His pupils are blown-out, drowning his familiar warm, chocolatey eyes in black pools of desire. No lies, that’s always been your agreement. No lies. So you tell him the truth, pushing your chest up towards him and pressing his head down slightly so his top lip brushes against your tit. 

“Wore it for you, Cheol.”

“Mhm. That’s my girl.”

He sits up straight and pulls you down to him, smashing his lips against yours again as his hands slide around your back, fingertips making quick work of your bra clasp. He pulls the straps down your arms, grunting at the feeling of your breasts relaxing against his own chest; the bra joins your shirt on the floor, and soon after follows his vest, your hands clawing at it to get it off him as fast as you can.

“Up,” he says as your hands trail over his stomach, fingers dipping into every groove of muscle, feeling how they ripple as he reflexively tenses them under your touch. “Now.”

You oblige, climbing off the couch and standing upright. His hand finds the back of your shoulder and he guides you around to the side of the sofa, promptly pushing you down over the arm-rest so your face meets the cushions you were both just sitting on. He pulls your pants down your legs and helps you step out of them, dropping down to his knees and kneading at your thighs with a guttural moan.

“Gonna make you forget all about him, y/n,” he says. “Make you feel so good you won’t even remember his name.”

“Please,” you gasp, feeling his teeth sink into your ass. “So-... fucking good to me…”

He adjusts the position of your legs, bumping them apart until he can settle on his knees between them. His nose drags against the crease between the top of your thigh and the bottom of your ass, his lips trailing kisses all the way from the outside of your leg to where your pussy is throbbing for him. He skips over it, though, nipping and licking at the back of your other thigh, until you’re rocking your hips back to try and push him into your core.

“Be a good girl,” he chuckles, thumbing over the wet-patch in your panties. “I’m gonna look after you. I promise.”

His tongue meets your wetness just a moment after, dragging over the fabric and making you whimper. Your hands scramble to clutch onto something, one grabbing the edge of the seat cushion and the other balling into a fist. 

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss, feeling the heat from his mouth all over you. “Please – I need it. I need you.”

“Shh,” he says. You can feel his lips twist into a smile. God, you wish you could see him right now. “I’ve got you.”

When exactly his fingers tucked themselves under the waistband of your underwear, you’re not sure: all you know is that one minute, he’s breathing in your scent through the seat of your panties, and the next he’s yanking them down your legs and diving into your cunt like it’s his last meal on death-row. The sheer force of his hands gripping your thighs and his head burying itself between them makes you stumble forwards, the couch groaning as it shifts against the laminate flooring, and you cry out a wet sob of his name.

Who were you kidding, before, when you thought that this wasn’t going to go anywhere tonight?

The build-up to this started the second you told him about the date a week and a half ago.

But you can’t think about the mediocre pasta dish you ate this evening, or the moron who sat across from you at the table who kept checking his phone and glancing over your shoulder. You can’t think about how many times he went to the bathroom after receiving a text, or how he came back grinning cockily before he sat back down. 

All you can think about is how deep Seungcheol’s tongue fucks into you. How he fucking slurps all the wetness your pussy can give him, how he groans and moans and chuckles every time he shifts his head forward and flicks the muscle over your clit. Your head is spinning and your eyes begin smarting at the corners when his nails on one hand dig harshly into the fat at the top of your thigh. It stings, but it feels so fucking good. Your knees are weak, you’re about to bite clean through your lip in an attempt to be respectful to Seungcheol’s neighbours, and your knuckles are sore from the force with which your fist is clenched. 

Lord, he’s good.

“Don’t hold back,” he gasps, pulling away from you, a string of his own spit and your arousal still connecting him to your pussy. “C’mon, babe. I can feel you’re close.”

The loss of his mouth genuinely feels like the end of the world and you could buckle, in this moment. But he’s done this on purpose: he always does. He knows you. He knows the sounds you make and the way your body moves when you’re tantalisingly on the edge of your climax. His thumbs rub circles into your thighs and you just know he’s got the most obnoxious, insufferable grin on his face behind you while he does it: you can picture it, so perfectly. So easily. 

The orgasm you didn’t quite reach starts to ebb away from you and you give a grumble of frustration, pushing up onto your palms to turn around and look at him.

“You’re such a bastard, Cheol,” you hiss, and he grins back at you, his lips swollen and shiny as he licks over them.

“Get that pretty face back down, baby. I’m not done.”

It feels like a delightful punch in the gut, so you do. You drop back down onto your elbows, feeling him shift his position but you can’t see to what; his body heat never leaves yours even when his hands aren’t on you anymore, so you know he hasn’t stood up or gone far. It’s only when you clear your throat that you feel him again. Sat down with his back to the couch, between your thighs, nosing at your clit to get you worked up all over again: his fingers trail over your folds, collecting your arousal, spreading your lips and tonguing between them. You whine for him, keening and confused but overwhelmed at the stark shift from before. How he touches your pussy like it’s the first time, like it’s the last. 

He presses one long finger inside you, free hand pushing your hips into just the right position that he can suck your clit into his mouth. You feel yourself grinding down against his hand, begging him for more without having the words to ask for it, but Seungcheol doesn’t need to be asked. It’s intuitive to him. Eating you out could well be his day job. Another finger joins the first and he pumps them in and out of you at a pace you adore, his tongue flicking precisely over the bud in his mouth.

Your disappointingly lost orgasm from before starts to creep up on you again, and you know he knows it too. But this time, he doesn’t slow. This time, he doesn’t stop. He hums in the back of his throat: it’s permission, you realise, to come undone; burying your face further into the cushions, you let out a muffled series of expletives, sobs, moans of his name. You tumble over the edge with a broken cry, fingers curling into the couch cushions, and he only pulls away when your knees actually give out.

His strong frame is the only thing still holding you up by the time you’ve stopped twitching through the aftershocks, remembering how it feels to have full lungs and a working pair of eyes. You roll your head to the side as he slips out from beneath you, immediately sliding his arm around your waist and leaning over you to keep you steady. Through the material of his shorts, you can feel his hard-on poking at your ass: the fact that you’re this fucked and he hasn’t put his cock inside you yet makes your eyes water.

“Okay?” he asks, pressing tender kisses down the length of your spine. You just breathe, nodding with difficulty owed to your current position and the way all your muscles suddenly feel a hundred times heavier than normal. “Talk to me, sweetheart. You okay?”

“M’okay,” you say. “Just… gimme a sec…”

He keeps pressing his lips all over your back, hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips as you fully recover. You nod again when you’re a little more communicative, pushing up onto your elbows once more.

“Said I’d look after you,” he says. “And you were so good for me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, swallowing hard as you twist your spine uncomfortably to look back at him. Fuck it, maybe he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Is that some great secret? Is it such a crime?

“You always are, baby.”

He looks down at you again: at the shape of your body, bent so crudely over the arm of his couch. At your messed-up hair, your smeared makeup, your soft, dewy eyes. He bites his bottom lip, swallowing hard, running a finger from between your shoulder-blades all the way down towards your ass.

“Can I?” he asks, pushing his hips against you again, your still-soaked pussy smearing arousal all over the front of his shorts where it meets them. 

“Please,” you nod, shifting your legs slightly to try and get more comfortable. He drops his shorts in a matter of seconds, cock springing free from their confines. It’s thick and veiny, leaking in his palm as he strokes it, one hand coming back to rest on your hip.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighs. “You’re doing so good.”

The head feels delicious against your swollen cunt and you gasp at the pressure of him sliding through your folds, leisurely lubing himself up with your arousal. It glides over your clit and you can’t contain the slight hiss that escapes you. He starts to say something, his voice just audible to you where you’re propped, but for some reason he stops short, and you don’t quite hear him anyway. There’s not enough time to dwell on it though: your eyelashes flutter closed when he prods at your entrance, pushing into you with hardly any resistance at all, and his unstarted, unfinished sentence is forgotten.

It’s still a stretch to take him and he eases himself deeper until his hips are pressed fully against your ass. He rests there for a moment, letting you adjust, letting your body mould to the shape of his own, and it’s only when you reach back with one hand to gently nudge against his wrist to give an okay that he starts to move.

“Good girl,” he says, quieter this time. Like he’s distracted. Like he’s contemplating. But you don’t ask, because you don’t really want to know: every drag of his cock against your walls feels like fireworks bursting over every inch of your skin, like being engulfed in flame, and nothing could take you out of how electric you feel. “Taking me so, so well.”

His hips start to thrust against you quicker, snapping so his cock buries itself deep but mercilessly quickly into your pussy. It’s only a matter of minutes until you’re clenching around him and when you do, Seungcheol – who you noticed early on into your relationship was one of the most vocal men you’d ever had in the bedroom – stops holding back the sounds you think back to when it’s just you and your trusty vibrator against the world. You swear that half the reason your sexual chemistry with him is so unrivalled is because of how loud you can both get.

You don’t know how long he’s fucking you for, sweat beading over both of your bodies and leaving you slick all over. What you do know, though, is that when he bends down over you, supported by one hand bracing his weight against the cushion by our head, he’s close. 

He isn’t groaning and grunting anymore. He’s whining. So agonisingly hard and so painfully wound up that he could snap. His voice is little more than a whimper in your ear when his lips ghost over the shell of it, thrusts slowing as he tries to stave off his high just a little bit longer.

“Wanna drown in this pussy,” he says, eyes squeezed shut, jaw falling slack as you spasm around his length again. “Shit – I love y-... love this… love this so much-...”

And this time, you fucking notice.

This time, you hear him. You know what he said before, now. When you didn’t care, when you just wanted him to fill you up, when you just wanted to have him pound into you until your brain disconnected from failed romances and shitty dating apps and people who weren’t him. Because he started to say it then, too – started to say I love y–

And this time… you say it, back. 

“I love you too, Cheol.”

Jesus, fuck.

Loving Choi Seungcheol is the easiest thing in the world.

He freezes, buried inside you all the way to the hilt, a bead of sweat running down the bridge of his nose and hanging onto the tip for dear life. His eyes shoot open, his head turns, and you meet his gaze by turning your own. He’s feeling everything. All at once. So are you. Arousal and need and fear – God, so much fucking fear – but love. Adoration, affection, endearment, devotion – shit, he feels it all, and it’s written in every line of his face, and when his lips move into a smile, when the corners of his eyes crease, when he lets it wash over him, it feels better than any orgasm he’ll have for the rest of his life.

Even the one that explodes through him when you start to grind yourself back on his cock and he lets go, fingers scrabbling to hold your hand, lips finding home on the back of your shoulder. He paints your insides with his cum, fucks it into you for as long as he can physically withstand. You don’t even have it in you to chase another climax of your own, too blissed out in the relief of your own feelings to feel inclined to try. 

So, maybe there’s a reason you kept accepting dates with men you knew you weren’t compatible with. 

Maybe there’s a reason you didn’t give those other people a real chance.

Maybe there’s a reason you always found yourself looking forward to the end of every night having dinner with a stranger.

Because all the roads lead you here. Because it’s easy being here – it’s where you belong.

He stays sheathed inside you for a little while longer, pressing kisses everywhere his lips can reach before he has to pull his softening cock from its home between your legs. You lament at the feeling of emptiness, even as his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you upright for the first time in so long that your legs feel like jelly. It’s okay, though. He holds you against his chest, burying his head into your neck – there’s no way you’re going to fall.

(At least, no more than you already have.)

“I’ll give you everything,” he whispers to you, moving your hair out the way so he can press small, doting kisses to the line of your jaw. “I can give it to you. I was a fucking idiot before – I’ll give you everything I have. I don’t know if I can be perfect but anything you want–...”

“I just want you, Cheol,” you tell him. “Everything – screw all that. I just want you.”

“Be with me?” he asks. You nod, feeling him light up in a smile for the hundredth time tonight. Even though you can’t see it, you’re sure it’s as blindingly beautiful as the first smile he sent your way, all those years ago. (It was Joshua’s birthday. You remember that, now.) And the second. And every damn time since. “Forever, this time.”

“Forever, this time,” you agree.

Because spending forever with the man who lifts you into his arms and carries you towards his shower, so you can clean down and get ready for bed? Right now, it sounds so –

But everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. Easier than with anyone else.

thank u so much for reading! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always so appreciated<3

[luvelve]

love of my life <33

here to help you fight the monday blues 😁

[luvelve]

HEAVEN

PAIRING — jeon wonwoo x reader

WORD COUNT — 3.4k

SYNOPSIS — wonwoo has a reputation for being distant, quiet and a bit mysterious. once you get to know him better, though, you come to find the sweet, shy boy underneath the surface.

TAGS — established relationship, explicit sexual content, sub-ish virgin!wonwoo, fem!reader, lowkey corruption kink, i have a sickening crush on this man can you tell, not proofread :)

♪ — the nbhd - heaven,, hank lotion - k-sEx

NOTE — gam3 bo1 wonwoo and ep 1 nana tour wonwoo footage has been making me act UP and i think he’s just so cute <3 screw the hard dom wonu agenda i like to see my men a lil WEAK ‼️😁

like most people, you felt rather intimidated when you met jeon wonwoo for the first time.

stoic, quiet, intelligent. the strong and silent type. that was the clear image you had of him. and to top it all off, he had the criminally good looks too. a relatively rare kind of man to come across, in your opinion.

though you began to see him in a different light after bonding with him over your shared love for video games. since then, you’ve discovered he can actually be quite talkative, cracking silly puns or laughing at the corniest dad jokes. he’s well-spoken and is actually very open about his feelings, which you found refreshing.

and while developing a friendship with him, you realized how much of a big softie he actually is, which paints quite the contrast compared to his cold and quiet persona he unintentionally seems to put up towards those outside his circle of close friends and family.

it reminds you of the day he asked you out — that sweet, shy smile on his face with rosy cheeks, all flustered and stuttering that you really don’t have to say yes if you don’t feel like it and he’ll push it all to the side like nothing happened if that’s what you’d prefer—

you very easily interrupted him by agreeing to go on a date with him. you’d never seen him smile wider.

wonwoo is cute when he smiles.

and despite his nervousness in the beginning, he still made efforts to be as talkative as he could and show you his interest in you, which you found very sweet. you had a great time with him, and you noticed rather quickly how comfortable you felt around him.

a couple dates later, he asked you if you wanted to be his girlfriend, and you certainly didn’t refuse him.

he’s also turned out to be a gentleman in his own way — subtly saying he could do certain things for you to make your life easier in that monotone voice of his, eyes following you around whenever he’s with you.

the first time he slept over at your place was rather recently after you two made it official. it wasn’t planned, since he was supposed to go back to his place after your date, but due to issues with public transport, you offered him to stay with you instead.

with his face and chest bare, he got into bed next to you. of course you’d imagined what he looked like underneath his big hoodies, but actually having him by your side like this was different.

and wonwoo was putting every bit of effort into playing it cool, even though he was freaking out to be sleeping next to his first girlfriend, forcing himself to look away from your tank top that left very little to the imagination.

yet ironically, it was all he could fantasize about before drifting to sleep.

normally, you’d only let a guy into your bed to do things other than sleeping once you’ve been dating for quite a while. it’s never been something you like to initiate quickly — but wonwoo’s been making you question it. severely.

because he looks so hot when he’s out on the field with his football team, when he’s working out, when he’s gaming on his pc, even when he just fucking smiles at you. the worst thing of it all might be that he doesn’t even seem the slightest bit aware of how attractive he is, nor what effect it has on you.

maybe you should really just tell him you want to jump him like a tree.

but you don’t want to rush him. for all you know, he doesn’t feel like doing that at all with you yet, and for some reason you just didn’t know when or how to ask him about it. later, you thought to yourself.

though you will say you’ve been pushing his buttons a little over the course of time. ever since that night, you’ve subtly been putting yourself on display for him. low-cut shirts and dresses so he can take a peek at your cleavage, accidentally exposing a bit of the fabric of your lingerie, sitting in his lap and rubbing up on him — unintentionally, of course.

it took every ounce of self-control in your body not to smirk when you felt him stiffen up underneath you.

the progress of your relationship has been nothing but positive, really. but you’re aching for him to just touch you at this point.

the day you hit your breaking point isn’t much later. you were trying on some newly bought dresses in front of him, one more revealing than the other — sundresses always work magic on men for whatever reason — and you turned around to find him pathetically trying to hide his hard-on while seated on your bed.

and you just couldn’t find it in you to wait any longer.

so that’s how you ended up sitting in his lap, hands on the back of his neck as you’re grinding against him. his glasses are sitting lop-sided on his nose, black locks messy from your fingers threading through them, lips swollen from your kisses.

the moment he feels your fingers tugging at his hoodie, he feels the need to clear up what he’s been meaning to tell you for a while now.

“i need to tell you something. i’ve—” he cuts himself off when he accidentally lets out a whimper, “i’ve never had sex with anyone.”

he’s still heavily breathing, looking at you in anticipation, and you just can’t escape the buzzing feeling you get from the idea of taking his virginity.

“do you want to?” you ask him, and how could he say no when you’re holding his face like this, looking at him like you’re willing to give him the ride of his life?

“yeah, yeah, i just—i usually don’t last very long,” he sheepishly admits, then internally asking himself why the fuck he would say that, “sorry, i’m nervous.”

but you think it’s endearing. “i don’t mind. we can always go for a second round, right?”

all he can do is nod his head in agreement. “i, i um—i’m not sure what to do next. i’m sorry, this is embarrassing.”

“it’s not, really. it’s not some big performance you need to put up, it’s something fun and exciting and intimate. you can go ahead and relax, and tell me if you like or don’t like what i’m doing.” you reassure him so patiently, which puts him at ease.

jesus — if anything, he’s already a whimpering, stuttering mess and you’re hardly even touching him.

so you move your hand down into his boxers, fingers wrapping around him to test the waters. he gasps in surprise once he feels you touching him, heat rushing to his cheeks.

“just let me take care of you, ‘kay? we can stop anytime.” you tell him, and he trusts you enough to let you go on.

you press another kiss to his lips before moving backwards, fingers taking a hold of the waistband of both his sweatpants and boxers.

the cold on his skin makes him shiver, but he’s hardly given the time to feel exposed in front of you when you’ve already got your hands on him, pleasantly surprised by his size.

“you’re so big, wonu.” you tell him in a sweet voice, feeling like you’re about to drool at the sight of him.

“didn’t think i was big.” he mumbles more to himself than to you, staring at the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing.

you chuckle a little as you watch him. “you are. gonna have to work for it to make you fit into me.” the words make his eyes widen, images of you getting fucked by him flashing through his mind.

“fuck, really?”

“mhm. but you’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

wonwoo is absolutely crumbling underneath you here. the effect that your mere words have on him should be studied, because shit, he’s never felt this hot before. why is it so hot in here? is he sweating already? “yeah, i’ll—i’ll do anything you want me to.”

he’s such a sweetheart that it makes you want to ruin him.

for the sake of both his and your own pleasure, you decide not to tease any longer and touch his cock with your lips. he lets out a moan of surprise, the feeling being unfamiliar to him, but holy shit — this has got to be what heaven feels like.

his chest heaves as he tries to control his breathing once more, focusing on keeping his breathing by his stomach. your tongue darts out to lick his cock, and he whimpers, which makes you triumphantly smile a little.

you’re genuinely curious to see how long he can last, so you catch him by surprise by taking him into your mouth as far as possible, and his hand subconscously flies to the back of your head, and he doesn’t know whether he wants to push your head down or pull it back. he releases a choked moan, spurring you on to keep him lodged in your throat despite his efforts to pull you off him.

“fuck—please don’t make me cum already, baby, please—” he begs, loving the feeling of your mouth on him like that — he just doesn’t want to hit his peak that fast.

unfortunately for him, you do.

with your mouth currently no longer on him, you gently jerk him off instead, his hips automatically bucking into your grip. "what if i want you to?"

“you’ve barely—barely touched me. ‘s embarrassing.” he chokes out. the heat is still rushing to his cheeks. his hands are shaking.

of course he’s nervous. you’re his first time, his first girlfriend, it’s all new to him. he’s clearly afraid you might be turned off by him being all flustered like this.

so you make it your mission to show him it’s very much the opposite.

discarding your dress, you’re left in your tank top and underwear, nipples poking through the thin, white fabric. you move to tilt his face up with your glossy, acrylic nail, gently holding his chin, your face mere inches away from his.

“do you have any idea how wet i am? just from seeing you like this?” you ask, pulling his one hand down so he can feel the dampness of your panties. “bet you could slip right in.”

a broken whimper slips out of his mouth when he feels it. he didn’t know you were this turned on.

you push his head and upper body back against the pillows, making him lie down fully, and you’re just so eager to suck the life out of him.

the feeling of your warm mouth and tongue around him makes him experience a sensation he didn’t think was possible. christ, this must be what heaven feels like.

“oh my god—you’re so fucking good.” he’s arching his back with his eyes tightly shut from the pleasure you’re giving him. it’s only when you take him as far in your throat as possible that the first guttural groan is ripped from the depths of his chest. it’s a low, sexy sound that makes you clench around nothing.

he’s burning hot under you, causing his glasses to fog up a little. he carelessly throws the pair onto his nightstand, the grip on the back of your head becoming harsher and less gentle than before, because he’s that fucking close now.

it’s cute seeing wonwoo not knowing what to do with himself. keeping your mouth on his cock, gripping the sheets, throwing his head back before he casts his eyes back down to watch you suck him off — it’s like he’s being overstimulated in the best way possible.

it’s enough for you to sense he’s close, which makes you take your mouth off him to jerk him off instead, all so you can watch him chase his release. “that’s it, wonu, give it to me.”

there’s a sudden shiver that runs from his back and core all the way down to his toes. he tenses up, unintentionally grabbing your wrist to stop your movements as he trembles and his body gives in to his orgasm.

once he’s coming down from his high, he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“that was… holy shit.” he laughs a little to himself, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“i’m that good, huh?”

“yeah.”

“wanna keep going?”

“mhm.”

“okay. take off your shirt.”

wonwoo blinks for a moment. he practically forgot he was still wearing one, so he sits up and gets rid of the black shirt, throwing it beside your bed, now completely bare before you.

if he’s being honest, you did ease his nerves by letting him have his first orgasm already. the strange sense of shame he previously felt has disappeared into the air, with only nervous excitement left.

he feels good.

especially when he watches you move to sit on your knees on the bed, removing the tank top and slipping out of your underwear.

his eyes are glued to your naked body, hardly able to look away — that is, until you sit down in his lap, your dripping heat touching his hardening dick, making him twitch under you.

“where do you keep your condoms?”

the question forces him out of his constant staring at your body. “uh—nightstand.” he mutters, taking the initiative to reach and get it himself.

thankfully, he manages to get it on himself quickly. you urge him to lie back down again while you position yourself above him, shamelessly staring at his strong chest and broad shoulders.

his mouth is agape when you sink down on him, and fuck, he’s in so deep.

the stretch burns, especially because you didn’t get yourself ready, but you’re so dripping wet to the point you don’t care — you need him in you.

wonwoo notices you struggle despite your arousal. “you don’t have to take me all the way if it hurts.”

you hum, a half-smirk creeping onto your face. “but it hurts so good. so i will.”

once he’s sheathed fully inside you, he’s subconsciously holding his breath. the anticipation for you to move is killing him. the sensitivity of his dick makes him whimper, his lashes fluttering as his teeth sink into his lower lip in a failed attempt to hold it together.

you decide to tease him a little by clenching down on him. his hands fly to your hips, gripping the skin harder than intended from the sudden feeling, his breathing becoming erratic again. “hah—don’t do that, please, i don’t wanna cum yet baby—please.”

“why? you close?” you ask him with an innocent face, knowing damn well what you’re doing to him.

“yeah. need you so bad.” he answers truthfully, his ego and pride nowhere to be found anymore. whether he sounds pathetic or not, he doesn’t give a shit. all he knows is that you’re sitting on top of him and he needs you to make him feel what he’s been desperate to feel for so damn long.

so you tilt your head. “‘s okay, wonu. i’ll give it to you.”

he can hardly even make out a response before you lift your hips and proceed to sink back down on him, your hands on his chest. a filthy moan rolls past his lips — you think it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard in your damn life.

then you begin to roll your hips, and he sucks through his teeth from the feeling, a mix of overstimulation and pleasure rushing through him. once you let out your first dragged-out moan, his fingers twitch for a moment, digging deeper into your skin.

“have you thought about this? fucking me?”

despite the position he’s in right now, he still feels his face heat up when you ask him dirty things like that, even more so when he answers them.

“yeah, i did.”

“when? tell me. i wanna hear it.” you tell him, and when you’re so gorgeously riding him like this, how could he not oblige?

wonwoo swallows, stuttering as he focuses on recalling the memories while admiring you and the feeling you’re letting him experience. “when i saw you wearing that short skirt on our second date, and—and that time you came to watch me at the football game. couple of my teammates were drooling over you. so was i.”

his words turn you on, because you doubted whether you were sensing actual jealousy from him that night, and this confirms it.

“were you?” you ask, running your nails down his stomach. “what’d you do about it?”

he bites his lip. “i’ll sound like a pervert if i answer that.”

teasing him again, you push yourself down on him almost harshly, relishing in the way he gasps under you. wonwoo is wonderfully responsive in bed, and you’re having a fucking field trip with it.

“yeah? try me.”

“i touched myself after getting home, and i... thought about you. in that skirt.”

“i’ll wear it for you next time.” you smile, watching him close his eyes in pleasure when you leave your marks on his chest, putting a few hickeys on his neck and collarbone on purpose. “i touched myself thinking of you, too.”

that makes him twitch inside you, which is exactly what you wanted.

his hands dip to the curve of your ass, following your movement. “really?”

“mhm. i thought you looked so sexy in your football attire. you were wearing that tight compression shirt that you always wear when you go to the gym too — drove me nuts, wonu.” you confess, which seems to work as a brief shot of adrenaline for him.

he moves to sit up, bringing your bodies closer together by looping his arms around your waist, the slight change in position making you moan.

the drag of his cock inside you is slowly making you go insane. your face is hot and you’re dripping wet for him, sucking him in to the point you feel like you need to claw at the walls.

“god, feels so good.” he mutters, his mouth finding your breasts before he begins to suck on the skin like a man starved.

once he notices you’re both getting closer, but you’re getting tired from your position on top, he takes a breath and flips you over, now hovering above you.

burying his face in the crook of your neck, he holds onto your body and fucks you. his thrusts are harder than he intends them to, the control over his body lost in his relentless drive to make you both feel good.

he’s panting hard, doing everything in his power to make you cum first this time while indulging in his own pleasure as well. “am i doing good for my first time? does it feel good?”

god, you can only half-catch the words with the way he’s fucking you. it’s almost funny — such a sweetheart he is, asking you if he’s doing well while simultaneously fucking you into oblivion.

“you’re so good, wonu. so good—‘m so close.” you cry out, manicured nails digging into his back, making him groan.

“wanna feel you cum around me so bad.” the words almost sound like a plea, like he’s begging you for it.

then he kisses your neck, and he hits the perfect spot inside you over and over, and it’s enough to make you clench so hard around him that he can’t hold it any longer. your orgasm makes your legs shake, and he fucks you right through it, making you wonder why the hell it took the universe so long to let him into your life.

he moans and whines and shakes when he hits his climax, twitching inside you, filling up the condom. with heavy breaths, he lets his body rest on top of you, his head by your collarbone, a comfortable silence emerging as your heartbeats slow and breathing steadies.

surprisingly, it’s him who speaks up first.

“i’m gonna need a while for my legs to start working again.” he chuckles breathily, covering his face a little when he notices you poking fun at him.

“aw, baby, did i drain you that much?”

“i genuinely can’t even feel my limbs.”

you laugh at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he smiles so sweetly — as if he didn’t just fuck the living daylights out of you. “wanna go again?”

he blushes a bit, tilting his head as if he has to think about it, before sheepishly giving you his answer.

“... yeah.”

thanks for reading! let me know if u liked it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[luvelve]

happy birthday to possibly the prettiest man i know, husband of all husbands, my love, kim mingyu 🐶🎂🤍

MINGYU X Dior AW24, Paris Fashion Week